Seniors are still trying to do it all. During these past few weeks, our overachieving Harvard mentality has prevented us from leaving stones unturned, chores unfinished and goals unfulfilled. Students are "bumping into" potential senators in "random" places, eager to cement "lasting friendships." Shopping carts filled with food from the Kahiki Cafe zoom out of Loker as the last cents of Crimson Cash disappear. The Widener stacks reek of bodily fluids. Several sorry individuals are still trying out for Crimson Key. And John Harvard is more pissed than usual.

We, however, have done none of the above. As others scurried through the Yard to pay their fines, we idly sat by, raising our eyes only to mock them with piercing stares. We refused to pack, do laundry or shower. One day, while wallowing in our own filth, we had a bit of an epiphany. We stank. Rather than climbing the tree of knowledge offered by our school, we followed the path of sloth.

As we wiped the scum from our bodies, we vowed to make a change. During the final hours of our undergraduate careers, we would like to salute some of the classmates we never got to meet. They are emblematic of dreams unrealized. With the drive of worker bees, we look into our hearts and write.

Lyndsi Ronnell Alysia Crowder: A la William Carlos Williams

This is just to say

I wish I had met you

At the Last Chance Dance.

Perhaps you were ill

Or have a boyfriend.

My loss

Is so sweet and so cold.

Chad Daniel Nielsen: A Limerick

A fine yearbook picture of Chad,

A many-activities lad--

UNITE!, IOP,