When I woke up early this Sunday morning, tired from the previous night’s Halloween festivities, I was in store for a rough day ahead. I had a column to write, a major headache and, to top it all off, it was beginning to snow. Oh, and I still had to wash fake blood off of myself.

I suppose that we’ve reached that critical point in the year when many Cornellians might begin to doubt their love for our university — right when the first snow threatens to fall, the prelims and papers begin to pile up and multiple layers of clothing must be worn at all times. It is at this point when freshmen might question if they did in fact pick the right college, and upperclassmen might begin to pray that winter break comes quickly.

As a senior, however, I have the right to be a bit sentimental every once awhile (kindly forgive any mushiness that might emerge in the next few columns), and to offer advice to getting through any slightly lackluster times. So I shall pass on a few words of wisdom from a most unlikely source: my former gymnastics coach, José.

José, the same man who would do a samba while we stretched on the floor, had a magic little catchphrase that took the pain out of any fall, the sting out of any rip. As a gymnast would stand up from her fourth consecutive crash from atop a balance beam to the mats below, all in the vain attempt at adding another skill to her repertoire, José would smile and shake his head. “Ah, gymnastics,” he would sigh, “It’s a beautiful thing.”

He would utter those same four little words at the end of any motivational speech he would make and any conversation he would have, its regularity making it a comical, anticipated comment.

José’s four-word phrase, though completely tongue-in-cheek, reminded us that nothing is ever perfect, but if you have a sense of humor, you’ll have fun the whole way through. The phrase is simply not as trite as looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, and besides, rose-colored glasses were not a trend this year. It’s a mantra that I would utter to any Cornellian who finds themselves a little too down in the dumps over small matters.

When you sit in your 700 plus person class, packed so tightly in Statler auditorium or Bailey Hall that you can smell the previous night’s alcohol fermenting on the breath of your snoozing neighbor, think to yourself: “It’s a beautiful thing.” For although these are the classes that drop our precious U.S. News ranking year after year, what numbers are you really going to remember about Cornell? The number a measly board of analysts ranked our university, or the twenty-odd friends who you sat, joked, listened and learned with in your largest lecture?

If you find yourself depressed over the lack of stores, bars or people that come hand-in-hand with a large city, take a long, hard look at the farmland that surrounds us, and convince yourself: “It’s a beautiful thing.” Although we might not have the busy bustle and internship opportunities of a city (a fact that has often pained me to no end), while BU students are participating in Red Sox riots and NYU students are crowding on a subway to get to class, we’re taking full advantage of our remote yet beautiful surroundings. We can ski or sail on Fridays and purchase fresh food (without ever needing to question how fresh it really is) at the Farmer’s Market on the weekend.

If your friends at other Ivies ever insinuate that Cornell is lesser in status, retaliate by taking them to dinner and handing them the wine list. Watch, with a hidden smile on your face, while they fumble over the pronunciations of the various wines. Then take the wine list back, drop some of the vocabulary you’ve learned in Wines and watch words like “tannin” and “halbtrocken” fly right over their heads. Yeah, that’s right, how do you like them pinot noirs, huh? While we might not have the endowment of Harvard or the rich and famous students of Columbia, at least we can get hands-on training at educating ourselves by taking cooking courses, wines and visiting vineyards.

Who hasn’t found themselves somewhat irritated when the 500th person approaches them with a quarter card on Ho Plaza? Instead of angrily punching the poor soul, give yourself and other Cornellians a little pat on the back for being such great marketers. Although your hands might overflow with colored scraps of paper by the time you finally make your way to the Arts Quad, at least you now have a plethora of possible events to attend and clubs to enjoy. Or toilet paper. You know. In case you run out. Similarly, the marketing genius who’s shoving paper at you on the plaza might also be responsible for some of the best distractions from typical academic life: he could very well be the guy dressed up in a gorilla suit who barges into your big lecture to advertise an upcoming party, or one of the monks who proceed down the hallways of Kennedy chanting about an upcoming a capella concert.

Stressed out about housing leases for the upcoming year or current landlord woes? Take a cue from my roommates and I, and simply trust that it will all work out in the end. After all, when your landlord tells you that “the toilet’s not broken, it’s working fine, I superglued it over the summer,” what else could you possibly do but laugh? (And promptly begin printing “Subletter Wanted” fliers).

And so, when we’re finally in the midst of finals week this December, when it’s five degrees out and the snow has been falling for what seems like an eternity, hopefully, instead of cursing the heavens above, you’ll laugh and think to yourself: “Yes, it really is a beautiful thing.” Then put on as many layers as humanely possible — I’m not going to sugarcoat this one for you, kids: it’s cold outside.

Carrie Bodner is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at cjb56@cornell.edu. In My (Kate Spade) Shoes appears alternate Mondays.