Well, it’s that time of year. The time when snow starts to fall, finals come and go, and my girlfriend just seems to go: the end of Fall Quarter. And what do you know! I made the Dean’s List. But little does he know, he’s on mine too.

I’m going to get that son of a bitch.

Nearly 100 days have passed since I started off on this campus. I was a bright, fresh, enthusiastic freshman who couldn’t wait to see what bounties of knowledge this school had for me in my first quarter. Now when I look in the mirror, all I see is an emaciated skeleton with two nearly empty sockets for eyes and bags that could carry a crusty little white dog. I look like I just came back from Detroit.

100 mornings of checking my emails. 100 days of fast walking from Tech to Kresge. 100 nights of listening to Anthony upstairs play jackrabbit with that girl from my PA group I thought I had a connection with.

What kind of university is this? What kind of school makes you give and give and give until you can’t remember how to hold a human conversation. I didn’t sign up for Nerdwestern. I applied because my tour guide said we had a great student-to-faculty ratio, and for the Schapiro suites. I got Bobb.

But hey, I made the Dean’s List. That’s got to be worth something? Surely when Blackrock sees I made the Dean’s List at a top 6 university I’ll get that summer internship over Bartholomew Carnegie Morgan Vanderbilt Rockefeller Rothschild V from Wharton – right?

I’m not counting on it. I might have made the Dean’s List this quarter, but I also made something a lot more important, a goddamn spine. And I’m getting back that soul the Dean took from me, robbed from me, STOLE from me. Next time, he’s going to have to buy me dinner before I stay up all night for him.

If I wanted to work, I would’ve applied to UChicago.