John Luckoski

It’s that time of year again. By now I’m guessing those of you who make New Year’s resolutions have also kept the time-honored tradition of ditching them. Classes and schedules are new and events come flying left and right in a rapid-fire routine that catches us all off guard. Books have been grudgingly purchased and after stocking up on printer ink, I have decided it would be cheaper to use crude oil in the black cartridges. Some snow is still on the ground, in small guerilla embankments that always seem to stick around in a brackish clump until reinforcements come parachuting down. Murmurs of “How’s this for global warming” can be heard throughout the campus. All of this is going on, yet the second we stop to consider the mind-boggling phenomena of girls wearing short-shorts with Ugg boots, most of us will be late for our next class.

Oh right. Classes. The reason we’re actually attending Miami.

After gathering up the syllabi and thanking the stars that MLK Jr. Day was this last weekend, we finally get down to work. Some of us will quickly learn trying to get that 21st credit hour just might not be worth it, while others may be looking to add a third elective just to get a solid 15 credits. It’s sort of crazy when you think about the fact we’re all attending the same school.

So schedules are nuts, people are stressed and it’s all one giant hodgepodge for the next week or two. Once we’re all settled in, we’ll have our schedule down and our meetings organized, then finally we can start counting down until spring break. Until then, to deal with the overwhelming rush of the new year, I will let you in on a secret technique that may get you through the next few weeks. Ready?

Just take a deep breath and try to slow things down.

Put down the paper for a second and breathe. Not some quick sniff; give yourself a good five seconds of inhalation action and then let it out. Put the paper down and do it. I mean it. I’ll be here when you get back, I promise.

Better? I hope you’re feeling a little less stressed. After all, constant information bombardment has become our chief means of communication. If it’s not messages and instant message windows or e-mails and homework assignments, it’s the men on the street asking for donations or the appeals for a few more volunteers in a stranger’s psychology questionnaire. These, of course, are things we all have to pay attention to, on top of our classes and extracurriculars. Why, exactly, we’re supposed to pay attention to them has never really been fully explained to me, but I’m sure it’s a very important reason. Why else would people bother inundating us with all this craziness?

So sometime between chatting up friends online, politely saying “sorry” to the men outside Shriver (or “You’re welcome,” if you happen to be feeling generous), clearing out your inbox, explaining to the psychology student that you preferably study in your residence hall room and finishing your homework, remember to just breathe.