A new year. A fresh start. Recycled bags all the way from China and quirky little license plate T-shirts distinguish a whole new class of freshmen.

As the cranky old people we are, we’d like to ramble about the old days. As sophomores about two days into our second year of college, the only thing that has really changed for us is housing. But has that ever made the difference?

We used to live in Ravine-Narvik hall, a dorm usually slighted due to its less-than-ideal location in the middle of the woods.

On a hill.

On the other side of a ravine.

But this never actually bothered us. While Caflisch and College Court would seemingly be better due to their closer location to things like the Mucho Great Eats of The Cantina, the main appeal of Ravine is the windows.

Windows are extremely important in the soon to be ESPN-8-The-Ocho sport of Creeping. Creeping is, unfortunately, a dying art. We’d like to blame this on Facebook and other similar Internet mediums that allow endless and risk-free stalking.

Facebook stalking, a term soon to be entered in the dictionary due to its globally understod meaning, is the equivalent of looking for bromance at a Phi Psi party- There’s just no talent involved.

It is even acceptable for comments such as “Ohh yeah, I saw (that you liked this band, that you went to this party, that you hooked up with four guys and a goat last night) on Facebook this morning” to be part of a normal conversation.

The problem with this is that for the most part, people are conscious of what they post on Facebook, whereas they are much less edited when one overhears them while casually squatting behind a bush near their house.

One can always untag an unflattering picture, but the guys sobbing outside of College Court a few nights ago about their undying love for each other (until, presumably, one went a little too far, causing the first bro to storm off while shouting “Fuck you man! It’s over!”) will never know about the thirty people listening in and laughing.

In Ravine, our windows opened up to views of people’s houses and lots and lots of trees.

Because of this, we were able to closely watch the every movement of squirrels and the occasional group of giggling students that were no doubt disappearing into the woods to play a wholesome game of Monopoly.

Our new living arrangements, however, open up an ever–changing array of new scenes. The windows of College Court nicely frame the Phi Psi volleyball court, which has taught us a lot about the game.

For example, we always assumed that teams could be distinguished by who was on what side of the net.

However, the brothers of Phi Kappa Psi have devised the ingenious method of splitting up teams into skins vs. people not wearing a shirt, which is only confusing when trying to distinguish the volleyball players from the guys playfully wrestling each other on the lawn.

Caflisch, located right in the center of campus, especially allows for constant creepage. Although the current construction of a new parking lot unfortunately prevents many drunken renditions of “Eye of the Tiger” from floating harmoniously through the bathroom window, a common room with two expansive windows allows for the true glory of the Gators to be seen.

While Brian and his roommates spend many tense nights ensuring the United States wins the World Cup via deft button–mashing, the real entertainment of the evening begins with the ending of festivities elsewhere. The blaring horns of pickup trucks cause residents to gather quickly at the window, and announce sights such as a bold, iPod–wearing nubile striding casually across the road.

Many students wake up at the crack of noon, brush their teeth, put on some clothes, realize that they’re in the wrong room and then amble with purpose over to their own rooms, where they scroll through their newsfeed for gossip of the night before. They don’t know what they’re missing.

As a new day fills the room with sunlight, the rush to the window to see classmates slip out of rooms with triumphant or hunted looks is a much more breathtaking view.

Casual statuses implying that various Internet friends are really cool and funny because “lol wat a crazy night! Call me if u find my phone anyone!” have nothing on the true beauty of someone wearing a single shoe while telling his or her mother on the phone that he or she is very tired from doing homework all night.

On that note, we digress, but we can only hope that ours will not be remembered as the generation that lost the ability to creep.

Some of you may decide to fall on easier methods of lurking, but as for us? Maybe you should check under your bed.