For once, St. Patrick's Day revelry has been surpassed in the headlines.

This year will go down as a record-breaker, but not for the usual tales of alcohol abuse and overall college incontinence. Instead, it will be remembered for much more somber reasons -- the unusual scope of tragedies that the Penn State community has recently experienced.

This semester alone, stories of sexual assaults, severe injuries and student deaths have overshadowed all positive news. We are all mourning the losses of fellow students Allison Caimi, Michael Donahue, Bill Marciniak, Brian Medford, John Nelson, Youngcheol Park and Xiaohui Xia.

Though I did not personally know all of the victims, the fatalities hit home with a number of my close friends. And yet, my response to the news was the similar, almost predictable reaction invoked by many when faced with issues of mortality that extend beyond contemplating major preferences and what to eat for lunch; I started reflecting.

Whether it be a homicide or an accident, death will never be easy to comprehend. But when faced with it, it is only all too human to try.

For one thing, it is rarely the end. What follows is a trail of grieving friends and relatives and a lot of unanswered questions: Why did this happen? Can anything be done to prevent this in the future? And the most important question of all -- how do you deal? Do you mourn the loss of a friend through quiet reflection and sober prayer, or do you celebrate his or her life with a dance party and his or her favorite drinks?

Of course for everyone, the answer will be different because each individual was different. It is impossible to "lump" these deaths together based on similar criteria, for some were accidents while others were homicides. Regardless of the cause of death, they were all senseless.

But as I read and reread their stories, one thing, as cliche as it may be, seems clear: Life is way too damn short.

Imagine waking up in an empty apartment and facing the reality that your roommate is gone forever. He will never come home again from the bars wearing his signature cowboy hat and making his signature late-night Easy Mac. Suddenly, the fact that you overslept for your 9 a.m. class seems trivial. You realize he will never have the luxury of oversleeping again.

Some have reacted in a more practical manner, like Penn State spokesman Bill Mahon, who responded publicly to Donahue's death by blaming alcohol and trying to encourage students to limit its consumption. Perhaps the news will encourage some students to be more careful and abstain from excessive partying.

On the other hand, because some of the deaths did not involve alcohol or drugs and were out of the blue, these disasters could invoke a completely opposite, armageddon-like reaction, such as spending all your cash before the meteor hits. Who knows when your next lecture may be your last?

It is hard to realize what we have lost and simultaneously appreciate what we still have. Life is a miracle that we ignore daily, and the experience of attending Penn State is a miracle in itself. As each new fatality is brought to light, this reality becomes clearer and clearer.

My aim is not to belittle those who have died, but rather to examine and obtain some sort of meaning behind or lesson from these tragedies. We're barely adults, yet we have come face to face with a certainty that had seemed so far away in the future.

The Penn State community is faced with the task of respectfully preserving their memories while somehow resuming daily routines of work and study. As hard as it is, life does go on. Thus, I hope that these tragedies will reinforce the same ideals that a great evening out will, the mantra of the college student: to seize both the day and night, to spend what we don't have, to eat and drink what we shouldn't and to live it up while we can.