There is something distinctly surreal about Daylight Saving Time in the spring. In some ways, this bizarre ritual represents the pinnacle of human arrogance; the ultimate proof of our foolish belief that we can, in fact, manipulate the world around us to suit our purposes.

Oddly enough, its counterpart--known affectionately as "Fall back"-- doesn't seem so off-kilter. Why second-guess the power of the government to create an hour out of thin air with the flick of a switch? That's an extra sixty minutes of sleep, partying and flexing those procrastination muscles on a paper which is still due at noon--although suddenly it's only one o'clock in the morning and not two.

In fact, the biggest question we may have asked on those fall Saturday nights is whether or not the Puritans believed in Daylight Saving--that is, are the bars in this town open an extra hour or not?

But to have three thousand six hundred seconds dissipate into thin air--well, things start to get a little suspicious. As we went to change our clocks this past weekend, it became necessary to ask ourselves the tough questions: Is it not unjust to deny precious seconds to a student demographic whose schedule-juggling is already a feat of Herculean proportions? Why does no one think to factor in the additional ten minutes that we lose in our attempts to readjust our watches? Why does it always seem to fall right after spring break, when we need that extra hour of detox more desperately than ever?

Quite frankly, there is no good reason why we should subscribe to the rhetoric of the Uniform Time Act passed by some conservation-happy Representatives back in 1966 who were eager, as I am, to avoid debate on any issue of actual national importance. As such, I propose that Harvard University join Hawaii, Arizona and parts of eastern Indiana in resisting the despotism that is Daylight Saving by creating our own Harvard Time Zone (HTZ).

Stretching from the athletic fields in the south to the quad in the north, and as far east as Mather House and the Peabody Terrace apartments, the HTZ would undoubtedly resemble a badly-gerrymandered legislative district and cause some inconsequential degree of confusion for shoppers who want to visit the Square from other parts of Boston. We would follow the proposal of a man named Richard Holmes, who suggests that we continue to set our clocks back one hour in the fall, but that "spring forward" should be changed to setting clocks back 23 hours--gaining ourselves a much-needed day of rest. Every leap year, we would subtract three days instead of adding one; Holmes' personal vote is those three days be a Monday, a Tuesday and a Wednesday (which sounds good to me).

If readers think this is a crackpot notion to fill my column with fluff the day after spring break, they're partially correct. However, I would like to offer evidence to prove that such a time zone, in fact, already exists.

In the first place, academics at Harvard already operate a full seven minutes behind the rest of the Eastern Seaboard. As any undergraduate knows, a lecture, seminar or section which is billed to begin at three o'clock really kicks off at three-oh-seven. TFs and professors ignorant of the seven-minute phenomenon (more people who insist on living within their own time zones) succeed only in speaking to empty seats and causing embarrassment to those students who are actually in sync with the rhythms of their school. And because most Harvard students seem to be naturally late, the rule extends on principle to any and all extracurricular meetings, productions, events, etc.

Then there is the issue that Harvard is currently two weeks out of step with such theoretical dimensions as the State College Time Zone and the Normal University Time Zone. We insist on distinguishing ourselves by starting classes in late September, having finals after winter break, and graduating in early June, without even the excuse of being on some sort of 'alternative' trimester system. The only other school who comes close to our wacked schedule is Princeton, and even they haven't yet grasped the importance of having a spring recess as late as possible.

Most importantly, creating a HTZ would legitimize our existing counter-reality. We speak our own language of concentrations and proctors and Houses, wear black-tie attire whenever possible, grow dependent on the administration for food thanks to an expensive comprehensive meal plan and are obsessed, for better or worse, with all things Harvard. My mother has affectionately dubbed my experience here as a trip to 'fantasyland'--I get the "you know that's not how things work in the real world, don't you?" speech on a regular basis. Why not embrace our idiosyncrasies and make it official?

So as the sunlight glares insistently through your window this morning an hour earlier than usual, be sure to grab your coffee and give the HTZ some serious thought.

Alixandra E. Smith '02 is a government concentrator in Kirkland House. Her column appears on alternate Mondays.