I'm honored to have the opportunity to write on behalf of my classmates -- a diverse group of individuals hailing from across the country and around the world, and excelling at... well, pretty much everything.
In fact, the Class of 2012 is so dream-like in its diversity that there are few things we all have in common. But if there is something we all share besides our time spent in New Haven, it's this:
After four wonderful, challenging, exciting, fast-paced years at Yale -- we're exhausted.
I mean that we are physically, hit-the-snooze-button-five-times, drink-three-cups-of-coffee-and-still-fall-asleep-in-lecture, haven't-slept-properly-in-four-years tired.
Yes: We, the Class of 2012, are mega-sleep deprived.
Therefore, I want to take this opportunity to strongly suggest that Yale institutionalize naptime.
We need a course called Eyes Wide Shut: Exploring the Limits of Consciousness, a.k.a. "Napping for Credit." Two-thirty p.m. in a dark lecture hall. Speakers invited for their particularly soothing voices. Monotonous PowerPoint presentations.
Without this course, we've had to rely on caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.
You see, the only reason I can write coherent sentences is that I drank a triple espresso an hour ago, and am now downing a Venti two-pump with-whip vanilla latte. So I appoligize for ny ttypos.
On behalf of the Class of 2012, thank you to the good people at Starbucks, Book Trader, Blue State on Wall Street, and Blue State on York Street for creating tasty and potable varieties of liquid drugs for my classmates and me to imbibe over the years.
In high school I had experimented once or twice with frappuccinos, but nothing more serious than that. By fall midterms freshman year, the occasional frappuccino had become a gateway drug. Before I knew it, I was chasing espresso shots with black coffee.
By junior year, my friends and I started getting into Diet Coke, Red Bull, and even 5-hour Energy.
One thing we've learned is the first step is admitting you have a problem, and I admit it: I leave Yale a full-fledged caffeine addict.
But what, exactly, is the problem? Why are we so tired?
Senior essays on the economics of transgendered plants, or the physics of sex, and nights of cramming for Nemerov's art history midterms and our Hoaxes finals.
And we're tired from not working.
We're tired from dancing and partying all night and then streaming Downton Abbey on Instant Netflix until dawn.
We're tired from midnight trips to the buttery and 2 a.m. Wenzels and 3 a.m. Insomnia Cookies.
We're tired from playing IM football in the rain and arguing about Lana del Rey and Facebook-stalking our crushes.
From watching the sunrise from wobbly fire escapes.
From sliding naked across the Women's Table.
From breaking down the set of Wise Blood: The Musical.
From having breakdowns.
And most of all, we're tired from nights of talking to and learning from and laughing with our friends.
So forgive us, professors and family members, if we're both exhausted and pretty jumpy.
But looking back on the days and yes -- the nights -- we have spent together, I know I wouldn't trade in one waking hour at Yale.
So yes, I stayed up all night writing this essay -- and I'm a little jittery -- but when it comes to all-nighters, I think Aerosmith says it best:
I don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, Yale
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
In conclusion, there is no group of people I'd rather not sleep with than the members of the Class of 2012.
Thank you, and congratulations.
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