Carroll: Welcoming Winter Quarter

Everyone knows the best part of a new quarter is the game where you try to guess which girls in your class are hot from looking at the backs of their heads. Although actually, that statement kind of assumes "everyone" is just like me, and given the existence of daytime television, drawings that don't look like stick figures and menopause, that seems wrong. Let me start over with a subject we can all agree on.

Everyone knows the worst part of a new quarter is buying books. Not only do they skirt the edge of a price range typically reserved for small cars, but they have a remarkable ability to sap life force just by their mere existence. I'm not sure life force is technically even a thing, but I am sure textbooks can suck it out of you like a six-year-old with a juice box.

The worst part is some fiendish professors have decided standard-issue books aren't enough to quell any thoughts of free time. In fact, only a lucky few can procure all their prescribed educational materials with a trip to the campus bookstore. For the rest of us, there's an additional visit to Quartet Copies for a game of course packet roulette.

Of course, I use roulette only as a very loose metaphor; in a real casino, your odds of winning are significantly better. Course packet roulette only determines losers and bigger losers. If the counter clerk pulls out a thin, magazine-sized volume (and by magazine I mean "Highlights" or "Ranger Rick," not one of those wedding magazines that are inexplicably 800 pages long), then you're a loser. If instead, when he drops your course packets on the counter, a massive seismic wave emanates from the site of impact, shattering the windows and sending onlookers sprawling, then you're the biggest loser. In recognition of your esteemed position, you win a lighter wallet and smug looks from the other customers, who, once back on their feet, feel confident they won't get screwed nearly as badly as you.

In the course of my time at Northwestern, I've developed (in addition to ADHD and a severe burrito dependency) an effective way of dealing with textbooks and course packets: Take all your reading materials and stack them alphabetically by subject in the southeast corner of your desk. Now burn your desk. This will solve several problems simultaneously, including where to find the space to put a TV in your room. It also lightens your bookbag considerably, not to mention your study schedule.

For those of you out there who are dubious about the effectiveness of this plan, let me assure you it has resulted in an enjoyable quarter all 17 out of 17 times I've tried it. I'm spending a fortune at IKEA, though.

Weinberg senior Nate Carroll can be reached at ntc238@u.northwestern.edu.