Last Friday was quite possibly one of the ugliest days of the year. Amidst the down pour, the wind and the negligible sun, I had the great fortune of showing around a family friend who had flown 2,000 miles across the country to come see Cornell in its springtime beauty. But who are we kidding … spring in Ithaca? After the warm, sunny, flip-flop weather I had just experienced the day before, I found myself in a relentless struggle to convince this prospective student that it’s not always like this. “If you were only here yesterday,” I told him, “you would fall in love with this place, I promise ... trust me ... please?” The more and more I talked in circles, the more I realized I wasn’t really trying to convince him. I was trying to convince myself. But why? Who said clear skies and 75 degree weather are necessary for a great college experience?

As a first-year Cornell student, I’m still getting acquainted with the seasons and the weather, and what that really means here in Ithaca. I left for spring break, proud and thrilled that I — the girl who once wore Uggs as soon as the temperature dropped below 65 — had survived my first winter. Little did I know, though, that winter was far from over.

From my minimal experience with spring in Ithaca, I have come to realize that spring is really just a sugar-coated term for temperamental weather. Predicting the weather here is like playing roulette. It’s a pure shot in the dark. You can put your money on sleet, snow, rain, hail and, if you’re feeling extra lucky, sun, but whatever you bet, the odds aren’t in your favor.

Everyday I wake up and check the weather before class and attempt to dress appropriately. However, whatever I seem to put on, I am usually overheated and sweating — or shivering. I particularly remember one recent day in Ithaca that began with pouring rain, miraculously transformed into beach weather for the afternoon, and then wah-lah! — snow at night. I found myself screaming to the weather gods, “Just make up your mind!”

The biggest irony of all is that Cornell, like most universities on the semester system, regards its two terms as fall and spring, neglecting the winter all together. In the name of honesty though, Cornell’s semesters should really be called Winter I and Winter II. For instance, this year, we had our first snow before Halloween — a holiday I typically associate with the fall — and who knows when our last snow will be. As I ignorantly put away my snow gear last week, I was haunted by rumors of snowstorm Slope Days and even occasional whiteout graduations. Snow in May? Who knew?!

The thing about going to school in a place with generally gloomy weather is that those rare days of sunshine are that much greater. This “spring,” the weather gods have granted us a few special days of sun thus far. On these rare, rare days, the sun seems to be everything and nothing else matters. It’s as if school and life for that matter is put on hold: The Arts Quad becomes inhabited by Frisbee-throwing, hacky sack-playing, working-on-their-tan college students; CTB is transformed from a bagel shop into an outdoor pub, as students gather around picnic tables, drinking pitchers of beer and sangria under the sun. In this utopian paradise, prelims, class and the recession seem to be worlds away.

Last Thursday was one of these days, but I unfortunately had class — all day long. Walking through the sea of smiling, laughing, lounging students, I ran into a friend who presumably tried to convince me not to go class. To skip or not-to-skip? To skip or not-to-skip? If only sun came in a “to-go” form, I thought. If only I could bottle up that sacred sunshine and vitamin D and save it for later — for after class. But no, a spray tan and vitamin supplements were the closest I could get to the real deal for now.

After dragging myself to class, I was immediately comforted by my equally distraught classmates who like me, wanted nothing more than to be outdoors. Someone even had the ingenious idea to ask my professor how he felt about holding class outdoors for the day. What could be better? Sun and learning! A two-for-one special, on sale now for an extremely limited time only. Yet, much to my dismay, my professor rejected the idea in favor of our small, dark, one-window classroom in the basement of White Hall. Oh, paradise.

After forgiving my professor for denying me two, precious sun-filled hours, I came up with an ingenious idea — Sun-days. Who needs school off for a snow-day when its snowing everyday anyway? If only this was a reality.

For most of us, our primary occupation at this time in our lives is to be a student. Thus, our full-time job is to go to class, study and learn as much as we possibly can. If you have a real job though, you can’t just say, “I’m over the cubicle for today, its sunny out, let’s have work outside.” So how can we?

We all know the answer to this question. College isn’t a job, but an experience. In fact, it’s the freedom to make our own choices — however short-sided and self-destructive these decisions may be — that distinguishes college from a real job.

As my first year at Cornell is quickly coming to an end, I’ve been thinking about what makes a college experience great. And for me, it’s not the weather. At the end of the day, as much as I love the sun, I can survive without it — or without that much of it anyway. Because if you’re busy enough and having the time of your life, who really cares what the temperature is outside? I know I don’t.