Building a snowman that represents finals week stress.
BUILDING A SNOWMAN THAT REPRESENTS FINALS WEEK STRESS.
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The winter chill often arrives hand-in-hand with finals week, a truly fitting backdrop for the unique blend of dread and determination that settles over our campuses. Remember those nights? The library glowing like a beacon, the scent of stale coffee, and that peculiar hush only broken by the frantic tapping of keyboards. Amidst the academic storm, a peculiar, often unstated tradition emerges: the stress snowman.
It wasn't just any snowman. It was a physical manifestation of our collective anxiety. Piled high with snow representing pages yet to read, its eyes perhaps two espresso shot lids, its arms maybe reaching desperately for a textbook. We built them in hurried moments of release, bundled up against the biting cold, a brief escape from the intensity. A silent testament to the long hours, the late nights, the existential crises unfolding across all disciplines.
For current students, these snowmen are a familiar, if slightly grim, symbol of solidarity. You see one, you know. You’re not alone in the grind. For alumni, they're a vivid, almost visceral memory. A chuckle of recognition, perhaps a shudder. We loved – or perhaps loved to hate – these small, ephemeral monuments to academic pressure. They were part of the tapestry, a quirky, weather-based ritual that inadvertently brought us together, if only for a few shared moments of frozen rebellion against the weight of expectations. It's a tradition that, despite the stress it embodies, somehow warms the heart in retrospect.