It’s my last semester at the University of Wisconsin. Before I go, I’m giving one last try to an admittedly clich? endeavor – my UW bucket list.

Of course, there are quintessential items that would make anyone’s list: hanging out at the Terrace, going to the outdoor farmers’ market, tray sledding, nursing a hangover at Mickies Dairy Bar.

But with this column I’m hoping to expand your bucket list horizons a bit with firsthand accounts of things you should do before you graduate. Items I’ll be covering throughout the semester might range from ice fishing to performing at an open mic to checking out dinosaurs at the UW Geology Museum. Suggestions are welcome.

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BUCKET LIST ITEM #1: A SUCCESSFUL ALL-NIGHTER + TERRACE SUNRISE

It should go without saying – every Badger needs to experience at least one beautiful sunset over Lake Mendota at the Terrace, with or without a pitcher of Wisconsin’s best beer.

But in the spirit of “Fiddler on the Roof,” I’m equally interested in sunrises. Any dedicated student with a full courseload, part-time job and extracurriculars might share my need for an occasional all-nighter – anyone who hasn’t, send me your secrets and/or Hermione Granger’s time-traveling device – and the best way to do it is to spend the night with Helen C. White, campus’ 24-hour library, with room for a break to watch the day begin over the lake.

I’ve lost count of how many all-nighters I’ve pulled as a UW student. And since the amount of caffeine in energy drinks for me quickly transforms from actual energy into nausea, regret and general self-disdain, I now only consume a mental cocktail to keep me awake: three parts procrastination, two parts fear of failure and a shot of approaching-deadline adrenaline with a serving of Reddit and Facebook on top.

Enter the fairest maiden on campus, one with whom most of us have had either a brief or full-on affair: Helen C. White. We’ve spent countless nights together, and not the stereotypical undergrad “going on a date with Helen C.” kind, either. But since it’s not yet Facebook official, I’ll leave the intimate details out of it.

One all-nighter last spring began how my all my all-nighters typically do: making a horrifying list of the things I needed to accomplish that night and setting up camp. Armed with candy, Powerade and a backpack with a weight that approached my own, I claimed one of the coveted Open Book Caf? booths at 8:30 p.m. to start and finish an 8-10 page paper on a 1960s newspaper merger due the next afternoon. I sometimes do my best work on a strict and upcoming deadline. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Stage 1 of an All-Nighter: Dread. Staring at a blank Word document might be one of the most intimidating First World problems there is. The impatient blinking of the cursor, the silent shouts of one’s brain to the fingers to: Just. Type. Something.

Stages 2 and 3: Preparation and Progress. Before I knew it, it was 1 a.m. I had five pages of notes and an eight-page transcript of an interview. No actual paper yet, but a satisfying start that warranted a well-deserved break. Creative juices usually flow at this point for a few hours.

Stage 4: Temptation. The hardest part of an all-nighter is between 3 and 4 a.m. when sleep is unbearably tempting. Fortunately, here’s where the library staff comes in handy, riding valiantly on giant vacuum cleaners and moving tables around to the point where only those in a mild coma would be able to get some shut-eye. That night, I wasn’t able to completely fall asleep, but I did hallucinate a man riding the vacuum cleaner to be a penguin driving a Zamboni.

Having three pages left to go and hours to kill while slowly losing my sanity and sense of self-awareness, I tried to pay more attention to my one-third depleted stash of unhealthy foods and social media sites that I had been checking every 15 minutes anyway.

Stage 5: Success. An hour or two later, the paper finally reached done-but-I-don’t-know-if-it-sucks-and-won’t-know-for-hours status. Still quite early in the morning, I decided to make a half-asleep escape to the nearby Terrace as exterior light protruded into Helen C.’s first floor.

Stage 6: Epiphany. There was something profound about seeing the sun rise in a place I’d spent too many drunken sunsets. The solitude and peace of the moment was empowering – although every member of the YouTube generation gets told they can do anything, I gloriously felt like it was true as the sun peeked over the horizon.

With a new, validated sense of self, I walked to my first class of the day, silently judging all the sleepy-eyed students who’d just woken up. They’d rolled out of bed minutes before while I’d already written a 10-page paper that day.

But aspiring procrastinators beware: The post-all-nighter high can have a violent crash. Feelings of superiority and accomplishment are usually and quickly replaced by being embarrassingly jolted awake in class and general malaise.

Before that occasional depressing and inevitable realization that the cycle will recommence in a matter of days or weeks, though, a peaceful morning after a hectic night alone is sometimes all it takes to recharge your batteries.

While Katie won’t be writing about walking across frozen Lake Mendota or drinking a Wando’s fishbowl alone this semester, she’d love to hear what’s on your list. Send suggestions to [email protected].