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A Eulogy for Sylly Week

After crossing paths unsuccessfully with this archetype seven times before, I finally made a true connection in this, my final semester at ND, with that college classic, Syllabus Week. I started the week  (not kidding; this is what I did on Sunday) in DisneyWorld; I ended the week asleep on my dorm room floor with all of my clothes still on; I took Sylly Week by the horns and made the most of every moment. Or something like that. But, as with all good things, my time with Sylly Week came to an end today. As we launch into week two of the semester, I’d like to take a moment to reflect on the week that started us off. Journalistically/metaphorically and maybe literally, my friends, let’s pour one out for Syllabus Week: Spring 2014.

Sylly Week this term was bound to be a good one as it started with what seemed like Mother Nature’s apology for that whole polar vortex thing that we’d all dealt with over break. “If you’re crazy enough to go to the bars on a Sunday night,” Mother Gaia seemed to say, “I’m going to at least make sure the temperature barely falls below freezing.” Sylly Week Days One and Two provided a great gradual cool down for those of us returning from warmer climes, and by the time temperatures reached the teens on Tuesday, it felt like South Bend was wishing us a kind-hearted “welcome home.”

It was on this chilly Tuesday when my love affair with Sylly Week began. Across campus and beyond, students celebrated the first day of classes by attempting to drink themselves into a willful ignorance that the day’s classes had ever occurred. Corby’s played the Idina Menzel power ballad from Disney’s blockbuster hit, Frozen. O’Rourke’s, reliably, had that weird karaoke thing that it has. Domers of the “slightly too interested in musical theatre” persuasion, in other words, had a really great night on Tuesday.

Wednesday brought the senior class back into relationship with that favorite watering hole that no one quite knows how to spell, Finnys/Finny’s/The Blarney Stone. Dollar beers flowed like fountains of youth. Frozen music played once more. Upon my exit from the establishment, I made my first post-going out Reckers run of the semester – or, now that I think of it, ever – and discovered that, even in our final semester when we should be bored of this tradition, seniors flock to that place in droves to get their fix of 3 AM buffalo chicken pizzas.

The Irish populace came down with a lively Fever on Thursday night, which is great for those of you who like nightclubs overrun with freshmen and a nagging feeling that making physical contact with the walls is probably giving you hepatitis. As for me, I stuck to Brothers for this Sylly Thursday, where I somehow managed to pay for nothing all night but the giant bag of Five Guys french fries I irreparably burned my mouth on “ate” post-bar. You may have killed several hundred of my taste buds, Syllabus Week, but I love you anyway.

Friday, after all, brought for me and my friends a surprise party filled with actual, genuine joy (when was the last time you saw that in the same setting as alcohol?), hall staff members dancing on tables, and me spilling drinks all over myself. Our time together was brief but silly indeed, Syllabus Week Spring 2014. I’ll always remember (about 90% of) you.  

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Sarah is a senior at the University of Notre Dame pursuing majors in English and American Studies. After graduation, she hopes to somehow finagle her way into a career in journalism. She enjoys whistling and Stanley Tucci and hates all forms of bees.
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