A day in the life for many students at SBU. (STATESMAN STOCK PHOTO)
From overpriced food to inconsiderate roommates and brain-melting classes, the life of a Seawolf is anything but easy. (STATESMAN STOCK PHOTO)

“Ring ring!” Off goes my infuriating alarm on my phone. Jesus, it is only seven in the morning and all I can wish for is to prolong my slumber on this foreign, school-provided bed padded with a sheet of foam.

I know I have to get up. I have to comply with what I signed up for. And sometimes I question, “Why?” Well anyway, time to brush these germs from my gums.

Five minutes later I am in the bathroom. Great! Two sinks already occupied.

But this arrangement, though?! These morons cannot be respected. Not only are their brains inverted, but also look at the obscenity of the hygienic disorder they have caused.

For the next ten minutes of brushing and combing, I really do enjoy glancing at the aerosoled pus on the mirror and the mucus of yellow and green shades on the drains.

Back in my room, I have little time to spare to decide what to put on.

This is the most complicated part of the day. No, not the clothes. It is sleeping beauty on the other side of the room.

I need to be extra careful with my motion, be as inaudible as possible to avoid further conflict and plunging into another invidious dispute like last night.

At last I take my stuff and find myself at West Side Dining at the Corner Café purchasing a small cappuccino and a chocolate chip cookie. Total: $6.32. Ahem, definitely a reasonable price for this superlative quality and amount I am getting.

Well, that leaves me with another eight dollars to spend throughout the day with this gold plan.

On the way to Frey Hall, I munch and force myself to luxuriate my nutritional investments.

It is always quiet and full in this organic chemistry lecture. This room is filled with studious students, most with a headstrong desire to become doctors. They all want to “help people.”

My friend Jillian joins me before lecture starts. We exchange in rants about our roommates and have a moment of laughter that makes this early lecture bearable.

Lecture begins and my cognition ends. Good thing I have Jillian to take notes on these irrelevant Diels-Alder reactions. What can I do with my time? Ah, let me check Instagram.

I mean I really do care about the thin-crusted pizza that George got last night.

It is finally nine. I am gleeful to exit this building. My next and last class is at four. Now I have the perfect opportunity to catch up on some sleep.

I’m back in this prison-like complex of a dormitory and rapt to witness my sullen roommate awake. He is currently on his significant career conquest, trying to invade the enemy turrets on “League of Legends.”

His enraged mouse clicking gave me second thoughts on sleep. I proceed to browse Netflix for the next five and a half hours.

Admittedly, my choice of sitcom is no different than yours. I laugh whenever the show decides to play those chortle soundboards.

Darn! Five and a half hours thrown directly into the trash. Time is a metaphysical reality.

It had no plans to stop while I was dwelling into “Everybody Loves Raymond.”
Now I’m rushing to the very important DEC poetry class that Jim recommended, convincing me that it was easy. Never again will I fall into that trap.

Listening to this brash professor lecture makes me sick. This is a discussionary class where you have no opinion because your opinion is wrong, and the only fact in this class is the professor’s opinion.

Even if you think you understand the material in this class, the hammer always comes down on your head during the midterm. Well, at least I am a victim.

Eventually it is 5:30, and again I am elated to leave another class. I meet up with my friend, Steven, at the SAC.

My meal consisting of mozzarella sticks and fries was valued at only about $9, but enough of the same story. Anyway, Steven and I planned for tonight.

We decide to invite a couple of close friends to his suite in Kelly Quad. I mean it is not like the same, or similar, thing happens every night.

We are here to build bonds with friends and have fun for the four years that we are here down in the Brook.

What better way to do that than smoking some claimed-to-be green crack weed and getting trashed with Svedka?

This is an escape from real life. There are no regrets for this hour of the day. Nor will there be by day’s end.

Do you recognize yourself within this character?

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