“I am incredibly excited to meet the person that I have become tomorrow because I assume that person will be happy, not stressed, and friendly to be around.”

Here we are: judgment day. In just a few hours, this will all be over. You will hand in nine or ten or twelve months’ worth of work, you will imbibe alcohol or whatever on the steps of Olin, you will head to the ice rink to rock out to Matisyahu (wait—what?), and you will slowly begin the process of reintegrating yourself into society. It’s sort of like emerging from prison. Right, Cara? Cara?
Once again, I pushed my way through the nooks and crannies Olin (as well as ST Lab), anxious to feel what it’s like to be a cracked out thesis-writer with the clock ticking in the last few days before the deadline. What I found, in a few writers, was a strong sense of being totally incapable of coherent human communication with anyone who isn’t writing a thesis. I interviewed a few homeless (read: carrel-less) writers as well this time—and discovered in ST Lab a vibrant late-night community of overcaffeinated, undernourished crazies challenging today’s deadline. Turns out there are a lot of caffeinated beverages you can accumulate when you’re working right by Pi.
Additional thanks is due A-Batte, Syed, pyrotechnics, and BZOD for this feature—not to mention every cagey senior thesis-writer who put up with our harassment. Thanks, guys. You really shouldn’t be reading this right now. Happy Thesis Day!
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