I have no class. No, not in the “I wear rayon, leopard print thongs, am oblivious to my orange skin, and enjoy bl*wing a new fraternity brother every weekend” sort of way.
I’ve just dropped all of my classes, but deflect all blame for my classless tendencies. Just like someone from New Jersey would. If I fancied similes, I’d say pre-registration looked like a robust tree in my backyard; it is now winter and each class has fallen like a rotten crab apple — stubbornly, one by one.
To be melodramatic: it’s the second week of classes, and I’m cold, starving, and distraught. As Christina Domenico pointed out in a DP column last week, other top universities (e.g. Harvard, Yale, Stanford) try to combat first-week apocalypses. They have what is known as a “shopping period.” It is similar to our add/drop period, yet a a consumer-friendly title adorns students’ transition.
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