Seven in the morning, Friday: I'm wide awake and furious; I've been robbed of precious sleep. Six days a week, I'm up at the crack of dawn because construction workers rumble in to build the new part of Redifer Dining Commons -- immediately outside my window. The intense beeping, the crashing of dirt and rocks, and the rumbling of the engines is painfully loud.

I thought living in South as a freshman would be great. Better food, nicer rooms, closer to classes; but no, I hate it. The construction is nullifying any positive characteristics I once thought belonged to South. We live in a battlefield of relentless dirt and dust, sprawled tools and materials, grubby construction men, and a shrunken dining hall and commons office. That's just inside. Outside is a sea of orange plastic fencing, enormous construction vehicles and demolished walkways. Did I mention the incessant noise?

I can't even sleep or do work in my room anymore. So, why am I paying $6,000 to this university for a room I don't spend any time in? I can't continue to sit here in -- well, I was going to say silence, but that's a joke -- a state of tolerance. And the worst part is that I might be tossed back in South next year.

So, President Graham Spanier, I invite you to come sleep in South Halls for a night. I want you to experience what we students have to deal with. How long could you put up with it? Because I've reached my limit.