Finals are upon us, ladies. You know what that means: just about everyone you know is either crying, dying, or already dead. I firmly believe that this week from hell is not meant to test our knowledge, but rather, our mental limits. How our professors expect us to apply all of our attention to a semester’s worth of crap right before we’re supposed to spend two months laying by the pool and pretending to love the boy next door is beyond me. I don’t know about you guys, but I consider this time of year to be even worse than recruitment. And that’s saying something.
But, like recruitment, it’s comforting to realize that we’re all in this together. You, me, thousands of other barely functioning college women across the country, and (apparently) an entire 1964 Delta Gamma composite.
Likely constructed by an angel sent to liberate us all from our scholastic chains, this series is probably one of the funniest depictions of finals week that I’ve ever seen. There’s no way you won’t relate to all of it, excluding the god awful mid-60s hairstyles. Apart from the pre-revolution ‘dos, this chapter nailed all of your feelings on finals week, for example, the initial shock of your upcoming academic obligations:
And on your impending panic:
On your potential solution:
On failed ideas/self-hatred:
And, the inevitable:
And of course, your happy(ish) ending:
Check out the full album here.
Godspeed, my scholarly grasshoppers. Just keep telling yourself that you are totally capable of nailing this week and getting that 100% you’ve been working your ass off for. And if that doesn’t pan out, it’s important to remember that C’s most definitely get degrees. .