Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Pizza

because pizza is happiness, obviously

Please Stop Asking Strangers if They Served Missions

Over the past few years, I’ve lived in 5 different places (from DC, to Logan, to SLC), had, like, 6 different jobs, and traveled in several different states. In other words, I’ve met a lot of people in a lot of places. One trend that I’ve noticed is that if I meet someone who is also LDS, the question of mission serving always comes up pretty fast. Which puts me in an exceptionally awkward position.

Here’s the thing: when you’re first meeting someone, you wouldn’t ask them for their political party or what religion they are. You wouldn’t ask them if they’re trying to have kids or if they got a college education or how much debt they have. If you find out they’re LDS, you wouldn’t ask them if they got sealed in the temple, or if they’re currently temple worthy. All of those things are personal and aren’t appropriate to ask an acquaintance. So why do we ask about missions? For some people, a mission is an amazing experience that they’re willing to share, for others it’s something they may have wanted to do and never been able to and being asked is a painful reminder, and some people may have returned early and don’t like to think about it.

Also, let me be clear: I’m not saying we should never talk about missions. If you served a mission, by all means, tell me about it! I love hearing the stories. But I want you, the one who has the stories and experiences, to freely offer them. I won’t ask to hear them. And I don’t want you to ask me.

When a stranger asks me if I served a mission, I basically have two options (and trust me, it’s pretty much just these two. I’ve been answering this question for a few years now): I can say yes, and then have to answer the follow up questions in which I get to tell complete and total strangers about my anxieties and depression and early return, stressing that it was honorable and clinical because I’m prideful and care what strangers think of me. Or I can (lie and) say no, which is easier, but also not true. I don’t like telling strangers about my depression. It’s not because I’m ashamed of it. I’m pretty open about it, honestly (hence why I’m mentioning it on my blog). But I don’t really like that being in the first interaction I have with somebody because my depression and early return don’t define me. I’ve got so many other things to offer (like, hey, I’ve read about a book a week for the past six months, and I’m trying to teach myself to like running, and I really love food and TV shows, and I’ve got a dog and a husband I adore, I studied Political Science but work in the tech industry, and I love to travel!) so why should that be what strangers are asking me? Why does a mission tell you who I am?

As another anecdote, Andrew didn’t serve a mission. When he is asked, he also has to make a decision about opening up about a painful time in his life where he wanted to go (had even opened up his paperwork) and got diagnosed with cancer. If he says no, he didn’t serve, with no follow up explanation, people tend to assume the worst. It’s not fair that strangers are putting him in a position where he either has to tell them about an illness or he gets to be judged unfairly and unduly.

In short, when you meet a new person, it’s best to stick to the small talk for a while before diving into more personal information. *gracefully steps down from soapbox*


My Not-So-Secret Love Affair with Food

Disclaimer: I hate diets. I love food. A lot. To both statements.

Andrew recently passed his two-year remission mark (yay!!). He had a check up with his oncologist where they discussed the best sorts of diet to stay in remission and not have a relapse. It was mostly pretty easy stuff: limit red meats, avoid cured meats, try not to each processed foods. And then, somewhere in the middle of that tame and normal conversation, the paleo diet came up. And then it was somehow agreed we would try paleo for a month to clear toxins and reset our bodies and blah blah blah.

So, we’ve been paleo for two weeks now. And a day. Only one week and six days left! I’ve learned a lot about myself and my relationship with food from this diet.

  1. When it comes to food, I literally think in terms of life or death. There were donuts at work the other day and they smelled so good and all I could think was that if I died in the next few weeks, I would have deprived myself of the last chance I had to eat donuts and what a shame that would be.
  2. The only thing that I like about salad is the ranch dressing. On paleo you can’t have ranch dressing. But you can have salad.
  3. I apparently REALLY love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and also buttered toast. Because I’ve (literally) been dreaming about those things for the past few nights.
  4. Eating too much fruit gives me canker sores, which has reduced my diet now to basically vegetables and meat for the next one week and six days, which is fiiiiine. That’s fiiiiine. Don’t worry about me.
  5. I’m literally eating dog food for lunch. Okay, well, not literally. But my dog’s food is sweet potatoes, chicken, and vegetables. Guess what I’ve eaten for lunch the past two weeks? Again, it’s fiiiine.

I’m Going to Stop Using the Word Jealous, and You Should Too

We all do it. As soon as we see a friend who announces an engagement/announces a pregnancy/moves to a cool place/gets a cute pet/graduates college/goes on an amazing looking vacation/gets tickets to see HAMILTON/studies abroad/gets an internship/a whole plethora of things that we wish we had but don’t, we quickly type out, ‘So jealous!’ Maybe we even say it to their face, “Ugh. I’m jealous!” And then our friends just kind of laugh, because it’s not really a compliment and it’s not really an insult, and there’s not really an appropriate way to respond to it.

I recently realized how rude it is of me to say this to my friends and I’ve been trying hard to eradicate jealous from my vocabulary. I didn’t realize how pervasive this sneaky little word is. In fact, I just recently sent JEALOUS in all caps to Andrew because his office ordered pizza from The Pie and, well, I haven’t had pizza in weeks (I miss it).

As usual, here’s a list to provide you all with my much sought-after logic, this time on the topic of jealousy.

  1. When I say I’m jealous of someone, it takes away from their accomplishment and happiness and turns it around to me. For example, if a friend posts a picture of their new car and I say “I’m jealous!” I take away from their hard work to get the car, the accomplishment of finally achieving it, and the happiness therein and turn it around to me, and my lack of a new car. It diminishes the hard work my friend probably undertook to earn that car. It ignores their accomplishment.
  2. Jealousy makes inherent comparisons. “They have a new car. I do not have a new car. I want that car.” All of the sudden instead of being happy with your perfectly adequate car that does its job in getting you from Point A to Point B, you are wishing you had your friend’s new car. Comparison tends to breed unhappiness because you’re only looking at the things other people have that you lack.
  3. Jealously assumes that someone didn’t struggle or have to work hard to obtain what they have. We can never know how other people struggle. They may have anxiety or depression that makes every day a challenge, they may be in debt, or have infertility issues, or family problems, or martial strife, or really anything. There’s a lot beneath the surface of everyone we know. When I say I’m jealous, I could be ignoring the trial they surmounted in order to be where they are now.
  4. Saying you’re jealous is not a compliment. It’s just not.

It’s been hard to try and get rid of this word. It really is one of my gut reactions to be jealous of someone when they have something I don’t. But I’ve been training myself to be genuinely happy for people when they achieve something or make a great addition to their life.

So, in summation, join me in saying ‘Congratulations’ next time instead of ‘Wow! I’m so jealous!’

What I Learned from my Political Science Degree

Hey folks! It’s been a while (about two months – I know you’ve been watching the weeks pass by wondering when you would hear from me again). It’s been a crazy couple of months! Andrew and I went to Orlando and New York City, found an apartment to move to in Salt Lake City, started the tedious moving process, and I graduated from Utah State University!

As my undergraduate degree neared its end, I began to have a bit of an existential crisis. I’ve been a student for 16 years and I think I’m pretty good at it. Anyways, I started reflecting on my time as a Political Science student and the most important things I learned. I think a lot of this is really applicable to the current political climate, which is why I’m sharing this in a public forum.

  1. Arguing on a moral basis will never, ever, ever, ever, ever get you anywhere. Morality is kind of a tricky thing because everyone’s moral compass has a slightly different ‘North.’ There are different priorities for everyone. Merriam-Webster defines morality as “beliefs about what is right behavior and what is wrong behavior.” When something is a belief it is not as black and white as you would think. The person you’re arguing with may have the complete opposite belief as you and they’re not wrong because it’s a belief. It’s not a fact. It’s not even an opinion. It’s a belief.
  2. The best way to analyze policies is based on justice. This lesson took a long time for me to learn. It essentially took me dissecting a hefty load of Supreme Court cases for me to realize that what I think is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ doesn’t matter at all, and that’s actually a really, really good thing. What matters is whether every individual is treated justly in the eyes of the law.
  3. The “big” social issues that the American public is concerned about are basically non-issues for the vast majority of us political science scholars. I’m talking about abortion and gay marriage here specifically. It would officially take a constitutional amendment (which is a notoriously difficult task to undertake) to override these decisions. They’re as permanent as something can be in our government. Politicians only talk about these issues because they know the public is still up-in-arms about all of it. They know the truth, too – it’s all a done deal.
  4. The Constitution is not a divine document. This isn’t to say it wasn’t divinely inspired – it very well could have been. What I’m trying to say here is that the Constitution doesn’t cover everything and that it’s okay to change it. Obviously it wasn’t perfect – we’ve changed it 27 times. Yet people treat it like it’s the tablets handed to Moses on Mount Sinai themselves. As such, it’s incredibly difficult to getting an amendment through. If you take out the Bill of Rights (the first 10 amendments) that were added on as a compromise, then there’s been one amendment every 13.5 years on average. It’s so difficult, that women still haven’t been constitutionally declared equal. It’s done through a backdoor clause of the 14th amendment.
  5. The American public is change-averse. And it kind of makes things really crappy for everyone. Americans hate admitting that there’s a problem (see point number 4), and it takes decades of mistreatment and discontent before they decide to do something about it. I have seen chart after chart and more graphs than I care to share about how America is falling behind other first world countries in areas like public education, higher education, infrastructure, social mobility, and healthcare. But instead of admitting that things may need to be fixed, taxes may need to be raised, and programs may need to be cut, everyone acts like it’s still the 1980’s here and ignoring the reality that 2016 is not quite as kind to America.

I am a Feminist. And that Needs to be Okay.

I recently saw a link to a blog post entitled ‘I am Not a Feminist and That’s Okay.’ The way my heart twisted and stomach sank because of the blatant misunderstandings about what feminism actually means let me know that I would soon be adding my voice to the dozens of other bloggers who are standing up against the misinformation propagated by this post. So, dear reader, sit down and buckle up because here. we. go.

(Also, a fair warning, I respond to frustration [i.e., twisted heart and sunk stomach] with [potentially poor] attempts at humor to lighten the [my own] mood.)

Amanda Jayne Sankey, the author of aforementioned blog post, begins  by stating “I am not a feminist.” Which, I think is fine. It’s crushing to be a feminist. It’s a brutal way to analyze the society we live in. It is truly painful to realize how unequal things are for women in our society, from politics to the movie industry to the pay gap (the latter of which is the only thing that Amanda mentions and is only a teeny, tiny fraction of the feminist issue). And that’s not even branching into the gendercides that occur globally, or female genital mutilation, rape culture, or the atrocious abuses endured by women all over the world. It’s also not branching into the idea of gender equality across the board, allowing men to be emotionally equal with women or acknowledging the abuses and assaults that men suffer as well.

I truly wish it were as simple as Amanda paints the picture. I honest-to-goodness wish that feminism was about the pay gap. I think at that point, I, too, would feel comfortable hanging up my feminist hat and claiming that ‘It’s okay not to be a feminist.’ I wish that once the 19th Amendment was added, the feminist movement could be over because suffrage for a group in America is synonymous with equality and safety.

Amanda then brushes over ‘fourth wave feminism’ and seems to imply that first wave feminism was enough, without providing any insight into what waves one, two, three, or four are about. So, get ready for some serious fresh knowledge pouring forth from these furious feminist fingers. (also, some simplified knowledge because I’m no historian.)

First wave: Suffrage, in a word. Literally. The first wave was just the very beginning of analyzing the situation and gaining voting rights, which are, you know, our constitutional right OFFICIALLY, boo-yah. Second wave: Reproductive rights (like the right to birth control, because that was seriously illegal for the longest time ever, and remember, women didn’t even get to vote until 1920, so these laws weren’t put in place by women). The second wave was probably the most radical, and is where feminism gets a bit of a bad name because women-only groups were formed and protests were rampant. Third wave: Guys, women can be whatever they want to be.  Maybe we don’t even need feminism anymore.  Fourth wave: Yeah, that third movement was wrong cause things still aren’t equal, thank you very much. Let’s talk about some real problems, like rape culture, the notorious pay gap, slut-shaming, abortion and reproductive rights, media propaganda of unrealistic body types, maternity leave, gender equality in general, and all of those other problems I mentioned earlier because they’re still very much here despite the fact that we can vote.

Now that the history lesson is over, we can move on in analyzing Amanda’s misguided post. The next line reads “I don’t want the things these feminists are fighting for.” Cool. I’ve got some serious mad respect for Amanda for asserting her rights to refuse the things we’re fighting for. WE WANT YOU TO BE ABLE TO REFUSE THEM. THAT’S THE POINT. We want YOU, Amanda, to choose what YOU want to do. If you want to be a stay-at-home mom and nurture the crap out of your kids, that is so awesome and I respect you for that, just like I respect a mother who wants to work full-time at her career or a women who doesn’t want kids. I respect all y’alls choices. Now, the more serious side of the issue that Amanda doesn’t address in her post… I’m also fighting against rape, assault, abuse, genital mutilation, slut-shaming, etc. These are serious and dangerous issues. By giving a blanket statement of “I don’t want what you work for” Amanda is negating the very real and gritty side of feminism that deals with some terrible goings-on.

I agree with Amanda when she writes, “it is completely okay to choose to stay home and be a mother because that is the hardest job in the world. It is okay to like cooking. It is okay to take care of your husband and children. It is okay to want your boyfriend to ask for your father’s blessing before proposing to you. It is okay to take his last name.” And gosh darn it, Amanda, Feminists will have you believe these things. It is okay to do with your life what you want to do with it. Stay at home, work with kids, don’t have kids (I sound like a broken record player, please, please, please, please understand that feminism is not about ultra-powerful women, I don’t know how many different ways I can repeat myself).

I hesitate to even venture into the next few paragraph’s of Amanda’s post because I find them incredibly depressing…

In short, I will say this: if you do not want to submit to your husband… don’t. I’m honestly not even sure what this means. Like, is it advocating spousal rape? Because that’s definitely illegal. But, also, marriage is about partnership and you may need to on occasion submit to your husband’s wishes, just like he may, on occasion, need to submit to yours. Work it out amongst yourselves. I’m sure you’re all reasonable people with realistic expectations of your partner.

Have you gotten it yet? Like, you, reading this with your beautiful eyes? Feminists have taken this crushing, brutal, painful, pressure on because we care about all of you, even when you don’t care yourself. We want people to have the right to choose what to do with their life, whether’s that’s embracing the whole shebang or refusing it entirely. We want men and women to be safe, physically and emotionally, to have equal rights, and to be equally represented.


Here’s a link to Amanda’s blog post:

And the article I summarized in my brief history of feminism:


Why I Chose to Keep My Last Name

I’ve been thinking about writing this post for a while (actually, like, for a year, which is longer than this blog has even existed), but was worried about coming across too inflammatory. I  wanted to explain my reasoning for not changing my last name when I married Andrew. I’ve gotten lots of questions about it and I wanted to answer them in writing, because I’m better at communicating that way.

First of all, I totally respect the decision to take your husband’s last name/hyphenate/make up a new last name/whatever solution you come up with. I think that it’s important to do what you feel comfortable doing and that your spouse is comfortable with it, too. Second of all, I don’t care if you call me Mrs. Waibel or send our mail to Andrew and Mallory Waibel. I don’t have a specific reason for not caring, but I think that it’s a battle not worth fighting 🙂

Andrew and I started talking about what to do about the last name situation almost right after we got engaged. I realized that I didn’t really want to follow the tradition. At first, I think he was a little surprised, but he quickly became very supportive (especially after I asked him if he would want to change his name to Rogers). We talked about hyphenating, but that can get complicated and often the first name of the hyphenation gets dropped (much like making your maiden name your middle name). I also wasn’t sure I wanted our kids to have hyphenated last names. Andrew offered to hyphenate his name, too. That was our plan for a while, but I think it didn’t sit totally right with us. Neither of us wanted to change our identities. In fact, it wasn’t until October 15 (the day before our wedding) that I officially decided I wasn’t going to change my name. It just didn’t feel right to me.

  1. I really, really love my family heritage. Of course, by changing my name, I wouldn’t be giving it up. But I’m so proud to say I’m a Rogers: we’re a stubborn, religious, loyal, devoted clan. From John Rogers who died at the stake because he believed that the bible should be able to be read by everyone, not just priests, to David Rogers who was so stubborn that when his toe got cut off, sewn back on, and healed crookedly, he cut it back off to sew it on straight himself (I mean, that’s awesomely boss).
  2. I love the identity I’ve created for myself. I’ve worked really hard in school and at work so that my name, Mallory Rogers, is known in my department. On my name alone, I was offered three different TA positions this semester by three separate professors, and a grading position last semester by a totally different professor. I like to think that my name is recognizable and I didn’t want to lose that by changing it towards the end of my college career. I’ve spent 20 years being Mallory Rogers and I really like her. I didn’t want my identity to change because I decided to get married.
  3. I’m not entirely fond of the initial cause of the tradition of taking your husband’s last name. I know that no one believes wives are property of their husbands anymore. And I honestly don’t think any less of people who take their husband’s last name: I think it’s really great!  But personally, I had a really hard time getting over the origin and some of the results of wives being considered property (such as spousal rape, which was legal in some states until as late as 1993). Women were transferred from their fathers to their husbands and the last-name changing was symbolic of that transfer of property.
  4. It’s complicated to change your last name! This is a little bit of a lame reason, but I just didn’t want to deal with it! There’s no time-frame, but I didn’t want to get a new Social Security card, a new Driver’s License, a new checkbook, deal with the bureaucracy of the University, doctor’s offices, banks, and jobs. Life is crazy enough, if you ask me.

I don’t know what we’ll do yet when we start having kids. We might hyphenate. They might just take Waibel as their last name. They might just take Rogers. We might given them both, like the Spanish do. It’s at least a few years off, so we’re not really worrying about it yet.


This is Andrew and I on the day I stayed Mallory Rogers!


Where are these Donald Trump Supporters…?

I ask this because I’m not sure I’ve met a single one of these apparently abundant specimen. Every time the infamous Trump comes up in discussion (whether that be in class, with friends, or at a family dinner), people (myself included) lament the sad state of the presidential race and the Republican Party. So either these supporters are magical creatures who only appear during polling and primaries, or people I know are lying to my face. I mean, statistically, of the hundred or so people whose opinions I’ve heard, about 37 of them should support him over any other Republican candidate… right?

As Sherlock Holmes states, “Once you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” (Why, yes – my Elementary binge watching has taken over my life recently; why do you ask?). So, the magical creature scenario is out the window and I’m left with the conclusion that people must be lying.

This frustrates me for two reasons: first, if you’re willing to put the man in charge of The United States, but you’re not willing to tell your friends, family members, and classmates, should you really be voting for him?  and second, if the man somehow, no matter how inconceivable it is to us more moderate factions of the Republican Party and the entirety of the Democratic Party, makes it to the Presidency we’re going to need to know which of our friends and family members to blame for the foreign policy catastrophes that are nearly certain to ensue.

Below is a screenshot of the polling for the Republican Party. When Trump announced his candidacy, I think the majority of us thought it was a joke. But within a few weeks, his numbers were soaring above everyone else. My professors kept assuring us that there was no way he would make it until Christmas. Then they assured us that as soon as the actual primaries started, we’d see the real numbers. Now they’re getting nervous because it looks  like there’s a chance he’s the nominee for the Republican Party (unless they find someway to get him to run as a third party and then the whole thing will be behind us because a third party candidate hasn’t won since 1860 and I hardly think Trump is anything like Abraham Lincoln and he certainly cannot pull the nation together in the same way). Even if he is the nominee though, there’s no way he can win the general election.


In other words, I’m saying we moderates shouldn’t be too nervous. The likelihood of Trump for president is next to null. Below are the numbers for both a Trump v. Clinton general election and a Trump v. Sanders general election (and since the polls have proved so devastatingly accurate in the primaries, I assume they’ll continue to shine in the general election). I mean, what’s really fascinating is that even at a 95% confidence interval, there is literally no overlap in either prediction.


Meanwhile, I’ll be over here deliberating between voting for Bush or Clinton, two fairly moderate candidates who do not hate women or minorities and who have executive experience, which is vitally important for the ultimate executive position.

If you’re interested, I pulled these charts from – they have even more that are consistently updated and you can really impress your co-workers and family members by spewing off numbers, as I’m sure you’re impressed by this blog post.

Probably my favorite chart is this one concerning congressional approval (the red line is disapproval, in case you were confused – that’s right. We 71.8% disapprove of Congress and yet we always vote back in our incumbents, because that’s logical):


But that’s for another soapbox on another day 😉


We Got a Dog

For those of you who don’t know me intimately, this fact is actually quite shocking. I spent a good portion of the formative years of my life being terrified of each and every dog I encountered, to the extreme point that I wouldn’t go to a house with a dog in it, or I would request that the dog be put away. I hated going to a house I’d never been to before because I was anxious about whether or not they owned a dog. Despite all this, we adopted a dog of our very own last week!

On the day we adopted Charles!

Andrew and I had talked about getting a dog for a while for the companionship, but we kept putting it off because it just didn’t seem convenient: we’re moving soon, we’re still in school, and the rent gets more expensive if you have a pet, plus, you know, the extra responsibility of caring for another life seemed extra overwhelming. Last Thursday, Andrew told me to put my shoes on because we were going to The Humane Society tolook atthe dogs (I’ve been told repeatedly since by multiple people that you can’t go and expect not to adopt one).

Charles loves hanging out in the sun!

We were walking around the dog section and looking at them and then, at the very last kennel, was this perfect little Chihuahua Terrier who was staring up at us calmly. No barking, no jumping, just patiently waiting for us to pet him. We fell in love and before we knew it, we were taking him home and calling him Charles the Chihuahua (because isn’t that freaking adorable??). Later I added Sherlock Fitzgerald to the back end of the name, because I’m pretentious. Andrew wrote on his kennel 221B and we named his toy Watson to fit along with the Sherlock theme.


He fit right in to our little apartment, curled up in between us while we watched Netflix. He loves army crawling on the carpet to us and then rolling over on his back so we’ll finish scratching his belly. He falls asleep if he’s cuddled. He doesn’t bark, he loves attention, and he’s a huge goofball, but only if he thinks no one is watching him. He will pat your hand with his paw repeatedly until you pet him.

Snuggles with Andrew!

It’s been an adventure so far! He’s already run away once (I’ve never run around my neighborhood in my pajamas crying before, and I hope I never will again), he has a crazy sleeping schedule (up every night at about 4), but he gives some of the best snuggles and sweetest little pats.

Finals Week Survival Guide

Finals week is quickly approaching and the panic of unpreparedness is setting in. I thought I’d share my insights into how to survive finals week, because as seen from the picture above (circa finals week Fall 2014), I’m a seasoned professional. I’ll refer back to this picture for specific tips and tricks on surviving the most stressful weeks of the semester.

You’ll notice on my nightstand two items of importance. First, the box of tissues. Carry tissues with you at all times, every where. This is important for two reasons. One, with all the stress and lack of sleep, you’re far more likely to catch a cold and you don’t want to be the annoying kid during a test that can’t stop sniffing and is unprepared for such a tragedy. Two, if you’re not the chronic-sniffer, there’s going to be at least one in your class during the test. Chances are, they’re going to choose to sit right behind you and then sniff loudly every three seconds and you won’t be able to FREAKING CONCENTRATE ON THE TEST THAT IS 50% OF YOUR GRADE. Politely pull out your tissues (because you’re always prepared) and offer one to them kindly. If they refuse, insist. A lot. Repeatedly. Because you deserve to be able to focus on your test.

Second, there’s the bottle NyQuil. NyQuil can be your best friend. It will help you when that inevitable stress cold sets in. It will also help you be able to fall asleep easier without having waking nightmares about getting the time of one of your finals wrong, or forgetting about a paper, or if the professor includes that thing that you didn’t think was important enough to study.

Beside my bed is a garbage can, making it possible to never leave my bed. There is also a can of cashews on top of my bed. You can eat, study, and sleep without even having to get out of bed, if you play your cards right. This maximizes potential study time by ensuring you don’t have to waste time and energy on silly things like nutrition and exercise.

You may notice my frumpy, frizzy ponytail. This is status quo. Don’t even try to do your hair. It’s not worth it. You’ll already have a lack of sleep from cramming late at night, or pulling an all-nighter to finish that 10 page research paper, so why would you punish yourself by getting up 30 minutes early to perfect your hair? Give into the laziness and get that extra sleep. You’ll thank yourself later (unless your boyfriend takes a picture or you walk by a mirror).

You may also notice that I’m wearing a too-small Disney sweater from high school. I typically don’t do laundry in the final weeks of the semester. I have enough on my plate, why should hygiene and fashion be first and foremost? Plus, laundry is time-consuming, especially if you don’t have the machines in your apartment. So, I opt for old sweaters.

My sweats are also from high school (the years 2012-2013 are actually clearly written out beside ‘Xela,’ by my sweats are askew, so you can’t see that). Wear sweats all day, everyday. Pajamas are permissible, too. Again, why bother with fashion when you’ve got study groups going into the late night? Let your clothes speak for you so you don’t even have to open your mouth to say, ‘I’ve given up.’

Those are my expert (and kind of sort of but maybe not entirely sarcastic) tips.

May the odds be ever in your favor this finals week, fellow students!

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