My name is Samantha Wagner, and I’m suffering from senioritis.

You couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for me to write this column — or maybe you could. There’s a chance that you, too, may have this condition.

It’s a pretty sad existence. Symptoms include diminished drive, little inspiration and a general lack of concern for commitments or

consequences.

If you’re suffering from senioritis, you can often be found staring blankly at a wall, the result of being too lazy to even procrastinate. Or, you might be watching one of the many Kardashian spin-offs or the Food Network, since they require about the same amount of brain activity.

Things you used to take on with conviction and dedication have now become enormous tasks of concentration and effort, both of which are nowhere to be found — no matter how far into the depths of self you search.

You would rather re-watch the last six Illini football games in one heartbreaking sitting than do a group project.

You would rather do 50 “laps” at Station with George Lopez strapped to your back (at midnight, on a Thursday) than study for a test.

You would rather do anything — anything at all — than write a research paper.

Every assignment seems totally unbearable.

The only things that temporarily relieve symptoms are alcohol, sleep and the wide array of available prescription, frowned-upon and illegal drugs. But again, that’s only temporary.

You would become desperate for a cure, but you simply don’t care enough to even spell desperation, let alone have the feeling and seek a solution.

When consulting my mom about my condition, she first told me she’d cut my arms off if I chose not to graduate after coming this far. And then she told me the only way to make something go away is to just deal with it — not ignore it.

So, listen to Julie, and deal. Just get your stuff done. But remember, done doesn’t necessarily mean done right.

At this point, it’s not really about putting your best foot forward — it’s about crossing the finish line. And if you do so by sprinting, skipping, crawling or backstroking through a pool of blue guys and Kam’s floor juice, it’s all the same.

All you have to do is pass and it’s over (cue flashback freshman year move-in day, followed by a montage of best and worst moments and a single tear gliding down your cheek).

Sweet Jesus. It’s actually almost over.

Maybe that’s what makes us so reluctant to do any sort of work whatsoever. It’s not that we’re burnt out on tests, papers and BS last-minute group projects (thanks again, Meyer), it’s that we are reluctant to admit the end is finally near.

The longer we can draw it out, the better. The more we fill our days with diddly-squat, the slower they go by. We want to make it last, and we accomplish this by accomplishing next to nothing.

See what I’m getting at here? The best way to cope is by doing what you need to do, while also doing as little as possible.

So, fellow sufferers of senioritis, stay strong and have a stiff drink (or five). Hold your glass up high and say it with me:

“Here’s to doing the bare minimum.”

_Samantha is a senior in Media and plans on crossing the finish line this winter, reeking of booze, pizza and shame._