Photo by Truitt Clark

11:00 a.m.

I have finally eliminated all of the holds on my account, including my aggressively modest library fines, immunization record requirements and alleged accusations of minor treason.

I am ready to register for my courses at the Georgia Institute of Technology, and there is nothing that can stop me.

I was able to access Course Critique before its horrific crash, and my notebooks are filled with meticulous CRN flowcharts.

What could possibly go wrong?

11:15 a.m.

Oscar has informed me that despite my status as a Tech student and the time ticket that it assigned me, I “do not have permission to access the service.”

After reloading the page with Internet Explorer 6, I am finally able to see some of the page elements.

“I am ready to register for my courses at the Georgia Institute of Technology, and there is nothing that can stop me.”

This proves to be futile. Major restrictions prevent me from taking the intro to computer science course that is a prerequisite for every other class in my major.

12:30 p.m.

I have arrived at the registrar, prepared to work through my registration issues. I am determined to solve my major restriction issues in any way possible.

12:32 p.m.

I have changed my major to Computer Science. I have now registered for my first course. My energy renewed, I continue on.

1:30 p.m.

I still only have registered for one course, as my other classes have filled up quickly. I am watching the “spots remaining” column vigilantly, and I am sure that something will open up.

In the meantime, I am going to use my newly-found computer science privilege to reserve spots for my friends.

I decide to auction off the spot that I have in CS 1332 to the highest bidder in the library. Hopefully I can either exchange this spot for another class or use the money I earn to purchase another spot.

I stand on a library table, ruler of this dominion.

One student indignantly approaches me and says, “You can’t do that. You can’t just give someone a spot in that class because they’re your friend. I need a spot in that class.”

I look around as the other bidders start shuffling around uncomfortably. I decide that I need to reestablish my authority.

“I am determined to solve my major restriction issues in any way possible.”

“Well, if you were friends with me, you’d have that spot.”

All is well.

3:30 p.m.

I am at the Office of Student Integrity. I have still only registered for one introductory course, and I am beginning to think that visiting the registrar’s office wasn’t an effective use of my time.

I am finally allowed to leave with a warning, and I am ready and eager to try again.

I am suddenly aware that I need to register for at least 12 hours in order to be considered a full-time student.

As I register for three random courses, an error message pops up: “Courses meet at the same time or at overlapping times.”

6:00 p.m.

I am ready to register for my courses at the University of Georgia, and there is nothing that can stop me.