Alice Wang '15 lists what grinds her gears and the little things we do that define us, for better or worse.

The commotion around the Commons yesterday was not a last-minute rush to mail tax returns. Instead, the small crowd of activists that assembled on the corner of E. State Street and Seneca Street had gathered to protest federal government taxation policies that, according to the organizer’s event invitations, constitute “willful, deliberate and recklessly irresponsible fiscal behavior.”

1:30 PM, 4:30 PM, 6:30 PM, 9:30 PM. I dig through my bottomless pit of a snack drawer and yank out a small bag filled with super powers. I pull out a mug with a picture of my puppy plastered on its side and fill it to the brim with steaming hot water. When I drop the little bag into the mug, a burst of bright green diffuses throughout. A small drizzle of honey and I'm good to go.

With prelim season upon us — and the cruel February winds driving our minds to Cancun and our bodies into the surrogate warmth of Libe Café — it is the time to remember our humanoid ancestor who first harnessed fire. We would certainly be stuck from a culinary standpoint without such a breakthrough, since many of the tastiest foods are cooked. While we may be able to get by on apples and tree bark for a little while, life without hamburgers and apple pie would be just plain un-American. And so, this article goes out to our ambiguously gendered ancestor Og, for without him (her?) we would be without a couple of hot (and historic) beverages.