Whenever someone gets an early present, a bystander usually makes some offhand comment about “Christmas coming early.” As ridiculous as the phrase is---Christmas is December 25 regardless of when you get your presents--I must admit that I, along with numerous other students, have fallen victim to “finals coming early.”

You would think that finals are stressful enough with an exam for your 2 on Saturday at 8 am and your 2A exam falling during ungodly hours on Monday morning, but it seems this time that isn’t enough. This winter, just as the weather has been relatively unpredictable, so it has been with creating additional work to take all the fun out of our lives. Take the guy sitting on a futon staring into space, his eyes bloodshot, on Wednesday night with only a week left before reading period.

“You sick?”
“No, I just had an exam.”
“Oh, well you should go get some rest.”
“Can’t. I’ve got an exam tomorrow.”
“Oh, that sucks. Well, do you have finals in these classes too?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry dude.”

And off he goes, to continue pouring over numerous texts on a variety of topics, disappearing from our floor for the night as though he were dead. Indeed, this poor boy had to suffer because exams came early this year.

The midterms that are really pre-final exams have been popping up here and there, but almost as bad are the anything-but-final final projects. A friend found himself locked in his room writing a paper for almost a solid 24 hours that he barely managed to finish before the due date. The resulting 18 page “mini-thesis”, as he affectionately called it, was only a precursor to what would provide him with even more stress: studying for his final a week later Another victim falls to finals coming early this year.

Things got so ridiculous that the UGA on my floor decided to provide stress-relief tips from a Dick’s House representative at our weekly meeting, yet only a small fraction managed to make it because of schoolwork. As the lights turned off for the relaxation techniques, and the sounds of the ocean echoed over a small set of iPod speakers, I found that I couldn’t stay awake--the week of sleep-deprivation due to “pre-finals” finally catching up to me. Just as I drifted off into a fantasyland of beach relaxation--the sun pounding my body, exposing me to all kind of skin cancers and other maladies that would speed me towards my demise--I was rudely kicked by a fellow floor-mate. Apparently the floor meeting was over, and it was time to wake up those who had fallen asleep. Thus I was ripped from the stress-free, warm beaches, returning to the harsh realities of pre-finals, my rude awakening bringing me back to the impending papers and projects I still had yet to finish.

Whereas Christmas may have come early for some, causing them happiness and joy, finals coming early is nothing but immeasurable pain. The Tower Room not only becomes a best friend, it also starts to resemble a kind of crypt where you could find yourself buried if you don’t survive finals. Once the library closes, I can but sit late into the night basking in the glow of my computer, the warm light courteously provided by my Dell, wishing that someone would kick me and wake me up from my dream, or rather nightmare of “pre-finals.” To no avail.