He may not sleep but his Instagram is killing it.

On the off chance Momma Bwog hasn’t already thoroughly killed the Class of 2018’s buzz, we hereby finish out our presentation of staffer’s schedules with incoming Features Editor Alexander Pines’ typical Wednesday. In case we’ve got you too down, be sure to check out our PeopleHops or Senior Wisdoms.

8:55 am: First alarm goes off, blasting music embarrassing enough to encourage me to silence it before my suitemates hear.

10:06 am: Open eyes, realize I have four minutes to get to my 10:10 lecture. Panic. Throw on clothes. Proud of self for getting socks that vaguely match. Run out of Hartley.

10:11 am: Debate waiting for Hamilton elevator. Give up. Start sprinting up stairs.

10:13 am: Vow to wake up earlier to avoid stairs.

11:25 am: Realize I’m close to accidentally concentrating in Russian lit. Decide not to care as long as it furthers my master plan to get Liza Knapp to agree to be my mother/aunt. Buy sad bagel from Café 212. Feel healthy by choosing whole wheat. Negate by covering in speculoos and Nutella.

Noon: Blow off French homework, watch What Not To Wear in the lounge with my suitemates. Get into an argument about the validity of leopard print as a fashion statement. Think, are these the intellectual conversations I came here for? Realize I’d rather talk about the horrors of pleated anything over the horrors of a godless society or whatever Augustine was ranting about.

1:08 pm: Fuck, almost late to French.

2:03 pm: French/group therapy (my professor’s semester was probably more stressful than mine) gets out late, chill in front of Butler talking about how great those Awake chocolate bars are. Realize I still have three more classes. Buy three bars.

4:00 pm: Exit intellectual circle jerk about U.S. History and various esteemed Columbia faculty. Consider wearing more tweed.

4:15 pm: Why are my discussion section classmates defending Ayn Rand?

5:12 pm: Is that a dead mouse in my kitchen? Febreeze, ignore.

6:12 pm: Proud of myself for showing up to my last class. Take more notes on Professor Sassen’s diva asides than actual content. Consider going into architecture.

6:45 pm: Remember older brother’s student loan debt from architecture school. Decide to stick with current unemployable majors.

7:42 pm: Mac n cheese for dinner. Like last night. And the night before. And the night before that.

7:50 pm: Wonder if arteries have turned to cheese. Decide to eat yogurt as quickly as possible to negate. Get laughed at by my suitemates for mixing Oreo bits into the yogurt.

7:52 pm: Pull up student loan statement. “I’m a real adult, damn it!”

7:53 pm: Suitemates unimpressed.

8:30 pm: Start homework.

8:31 pm: Beyoncé.

9:30 pm: It’s not procrastinating if I’m doing dishes, right?

9:45 pm: Or cleaning my room?

10:30 pm: Go to Diana Center to actually do homework.

10:40 pm: Derailed by friends. Make plans for radical queer ’zine. Get into discussion about the hipster bullshit drag horror show we went to in Bushwick last weekend/Blue Is The Warmest Color/all of the Feelings about Pariah. End up classifying all of our friends by Pokemon type (original series, of course). I’m Gengar.

2:00 am: Diana closed. Shit.

2:05 am: Vow to go to bed.

2:10 am: End up in SIPA.

2:25 am: Actually start homework.

2:30 am: Shit, I have to do a Bwog post for tomorrow. It’s definitely not procrastinating, I’m a writing major!

2:50 am: Start writing fiction critiques. Wonder if sleep deprivation is a good excuse for being an asshole.

3:52 am: Lehman Library closes, move upstairs to keep working in the lobby.

4:10 am: I’m done!

4:12 am: Shit. CC reading.

4:15 am: This is some misogynistic bullshit.

4:50 am: Actually done!

5:00 am: Stumble home.

5:08 am: Try to fall asleep.

7:30 am: See sunlight, hear birds. Hate nature.

7:55 am: Fall asleep.

8:55 am: First alarm goes off. Fuck.

Campus via Alexander Pines.