Or, to use the local lingo, it’s fucking brick.

Folks, it’s once again that time of the year. Really I thought it would never come: I recall wearing shorts in mid-November, which to my Ohioan legs is strange and unnatural. But no, folks, it came.

It’s fucking cold. 

It is time to milk the Butler Breeze for all it’s worth, waddle from class to class like a caffeinated penguin, and contemplate death while standing in line for Hungarian. Cuddle up with your Augustine or your Adam Smith, violently moisturize, and dry your hair adequately. (Learn from my mistakes! My face is peeling and my ends are split!)

Some observations:

• That omnipresent Columbia creature, the Butler cigarette smoker, is still braving the elements to light up a Marlboro Light and yammer in rapid French about God-knows-what.
• Unlike in your middle school, where the kids who wore shorts in winter seemed to be seeking attention or in some other sense touched by an angel, the bare-fleshèd among us look like relatively normal members of the university community. Some of them are even athletes, suggesting they’re capable of functioning in some kind of social structure. I don’t understand this and I have a strong feeling that these people will not be seeing Heaven.
• I don’t know if this is common (as a freshman and thus someone who is above criticism, you wouldn’t punch a little guy???? I’m a little guy and it’s my birthday), but some combination of the subzero temperatures and the chemicals they use on the lawns has made a layer of ice form over all the snow. This is useful as a projectile weapon in an emergency: for example, when they let Millie the Dancing Bear out of her cage.
• My shower is always cold, a wonderful example of the university’s commitment to connecting students to the world outside of campus.
• Everyone has those coats with the little circle on the sleeve. You know the ones. I feel like I’m expected to know what brand that is, and if it’s nouveau-riche pap or Genuine Phillips Andover Apparel, to which question see above that I am from Ohio.

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

…I don’t fucking know.

Artist’s rendering of Butler Lawn via Wikimedia Commons