Hey! You did it (basically). Whether this was your first finals week, or your second to last, it’s almost over because today is Thursday, and tomorrow is Friday, and then it’s Saturday, and then you’re not allowed to be in your residence hall past noon, so at that point you have to leave or else something bad happens probably. This week has seen more free donuts, Keurig hot chocolate, ice, and tears than any other week this school year, and it’s drawing to a highly anticipated close. Maybe you used your time efficiently, and developed a late-night, flirtatious rapport with Olin. Maybe you’ve never procrastinated more, and on your way back to your dorm, you passed Ransom Hall, and thought of the admissions staff within. You smiled smugly because, by evidence of you being here, they thought you could handle a collegiate level workload with ease, and they were wrong. Either way, it’s all okay and none of it matters. For example, last Friday, I handed in a paper on The Autobiography of Malcolm X that was so bad, and so rushed that I wouldn’t want any member of his lineage to know it had been written…but at least I turned in something. Thats kind of finals week stick–to–itiveness you should be proud of. I know I am.

Now, text your parents and tell them you think your last exam went well. Burn your syllabi. Gaze at John Stewart Mill’s old white face on the cover of your copy of On Liberty one last goddamn time. Try to find your debit card before you leave for the airport. Kiss your roommate.

You’re impressive and did a really good job this week and I’m proud of you. Everything is fine. You’re alive and smart and hot.