So here you are, you made it through three years of university and you have no idea how the f*ck you did it. How you survived your first “slosh the frosh”, how you made it back out after those mid-day-Homecoming-power-naps, or those 7 day benders when you could only tell what day of the week it was based off of what the specials were at the bar. Who knows how you got home after that time you creamed a bottle of Alfie’s wine in under six minutes, or how you got your shit together after those post-Stages-after-parties, wondering when the sun got so god damn bright. You managed to fit school in there somehow too, having built a solid relationship with the world of online lecture notes and resting your hangover on the comfort of your keyboard. Hell, you can actually say that you’ve learned a thing or two from your time and $10,000 debt. You learned creativity with all those over-the-top themed party costumes, you practiced self-defense after getting kicked out of Ale Hau5 for trying to get your grind on with that bouncer on the speakers, and you’re pretty much a food connoisseur ‘cause you can drunkenly consume countless poutines/donairs without hurling even once.
Take a minute to reflect on your accomplishments. You, my friend, are one fly ass mother f*cker. Now you’re in fourth year – and your body. is. ready.
When I was a wee frosh, some kid told me that the ‘parties, b*tches and booze’ came to a halt once you hit the final stretch of the road. Fourth year is too intense he sighed at me there’s no time for going out anymore. Having graduated and taken my first teeny tiny steps in to the big fat real world, I can tell you that’s all bull. The best nights of my life that I don’t remember were in Fourth Year. It’s in Fourth Year that I met the most interesting characters, some of who I now call my closest friends, while forever dicking around with the good old ones. It’s in Fourth Year that I did the stupidest shit, the funniest shit, and sacrificed hours of sleep to make sure I still had a shot at that coveted GPA and Degree, which I guess we’re all here for in the first place. Having recently been caught up in the 9-5 grind, I found myself fondly looking back at the hazy memories, wanting a change to relive every stupid, ridiculous and awesome decision.
I guess that’s what brings me here now, burning my midnight oil while tapping away at this bloody ancient MacBook. I’ve always wanted to write an article for Muse, but struggled to find something relevant to say. Sports? Naw, who am I kidding, I could only write about being sorta-not-bad at Flip Cup. Beauty? Um, spray yourself with enough perfume and no one knows you haven’t showered since Tumbleweed Tuesday. And then a light bulb turned on like a frosh at all-ages. I’ve realized the thing I’m most passionate about is people: enjoying the time you have with those around you and living each moment like it’s last call. The ‘parties, b*tches and booze’ might come to an end some day, but lucky for you, that day’s still a few months away. So here’s me, giving you my two-cents on what shit to take advantage of, and how to cause a ruckus while still getting your butt over that graduation finish line. I reached out to some other recent-graduates and asked them what advice they’d want to give the class of 2013, and this is what we came up with…
Please see the next article, THE BUCKET LIST, for the second part of Z’s amazing advice!
DISCLAIMER: This article is semi-satire, semi-fiction, semi-non-fiction, and does not reflect the Queen’s student body. Some of this shit is based off of experience, some of it is made up, some of it sounds like the writer is a pretentious dickhead – but I swear I’m not that bad, its just really fun to write like this. Stay in school kids.
Photo by Alex Mansourati