It’s been a long, strange year for Weiss-A-Roni. The fact that I even started this column at all was a fluke, beginning with a series of horrible, painful mistakes that one could either pinpoint to when I started editorial compet at the Sun, my unfortunate agreement to accept admission at Cornell University or the moment that the sperm and the egg came together to form what would turn out to be the fetus and later baby Weiss-A-Roni. There are any number of potential starting points for this series of rants you’ve been dutifully reading for the past year. Let’s explore.

SUNBURNED

Cum Laude. Latin translation: with honor. The epitome of scholarly distinction. The acme of a superbly-executed undergraduate career.

With this semester winding down, a select group of seniors are laboring over final theses, fine-tuning lab reports and opening the doors to culminating performances — all with the hopes of securing those two striking Latin words (three if they are lucky: Magna Cum Laude, “with great honor,” or Summa Cum Laude, “with highest honor.”)

Others are sitting tight with the knowledge that, with their 3.5 GPA, they have already nailed it — and that they have done so without having bothered with any of that tiresome thesis / lab / performance work.

How much is an honors distinction worth at Cornell?

I have had a particularly difficult time writing this, my final article. I wish that I could say that the difficulty is derived from the pressure of capping off two years of fine work, but the truth is that I happen to be brain dead after a night of drinking. I suppose that is not a valid excuse; after all, Hemingway was always drunk and what he managed to produce was halfway decent. As I reflect on the debauchery that was last night and whether this headache was truly worth it, I cannot help but contemplate life after graduation and how different it may be.

From the looks of it, you’d think the devil was invited to speak at the University of Notre Dame’s graduation commencement ceremony. Then again, maybe some people believe he is, though I bet even Rush Limbaugh would find this a bit extreme. For commencement and graduation, most universities invite a distinguished individual to address the graduating seniors in order to provide them with words of wisdom and advice for the future. Who better for the task than the President of the United States? I am therefore bewildered that President Obama’s scheduled speech has been met with such defiance and outcry.

We are drowning. And not just in credit card bills and tuition payments. We are drowning in false choices.

We are told that we must choose between making money and making a difference — that it is not possible to harness our strengths, embrace our passions and have a career at the same time. We've been misled, misinformed and we’re now anxious about the future. But crisis — both economic and planetary — creates opportunity.

Whatever you think about your career during this economic maelstrom — think the opposite.

Graduating a semester or even a year early, while not the norm, is becoming an attractive option for many undergrads across the country and at Cornell as well.

The cost of attending a university has dramatically increased nationwide in recent years. Many parents and students alike are feeling the impact of increasing tuition and room and board costs. For the 2009-2010 academic year, Cornell’s undergraduate tuition in endowed colleges will increase by four percent, which is less than the increase in previous years. But tuition will also rise by 7.2 percent in statutory colleges.

I frequently look forward to long breaks between semesters because it gives me an opportunity to escape Ithaca and get back in touch with reality. To unwind, I try really hard to stay away from Facebook, Gmail and Cornell’s homepage.

I try, but I usually fail after about a day or two.

Something draws me back to this place. Something makes me start counting the days until I brave the four-hour drive from Northern New Jersey to Upstate New York. I find myself looking ahead to another great semester filled with stories and learning experiences.

Though the snow piled high on Saturday afternoon, blanketing the campus in white, 859 students inside Barton Hall bled Carnelian red as they walked across the stage during the Recognition Ceremony for January Graduates. Friends and family cheered them on as the students — many of whom finished their degrees early, late or from graduate school — received recognition for their milestones.

Of the graduates, 40 percent were earning graduate degrees and 19 percent of students came from outside the United States. All undergraduate and graduate schools were represented at the ceremony, with each school’s graduates wearing different colored tassels.

Maybe it was the gooey saliva and snot bubbling from every facial orifice. Maybe it was the way she precariously hung over her tiny mother’s shoulder. Or maybe it was the fact that she had less regard for social boundaries than a Risley resident, and had been staring at me, reaching at my face for the entire subway ride. Whatever the reason, I was not about to lose a staring contest to someone who had nil control over her bowels. This was a pride thing.

My nemesis was dangling by one leg now, her diaper crunching as she inched closer to me, held from a 5-foot death fall by her mother’s haphazard grip on her baby cankle. I wondered if I could — or even would — catch her in time.