My colleagues at the Tribune, who are able to write a column on a weekly basis instead of sporadically, as space needs to be filled, have talked a lot about legacy lately.

Brian Harper had dinner with University President the Rev. Robert A. Wild, and proposed bringing back fanny packs and mullets. Katelyn Baker outlined her game plan to emulate Brian. And

Bridget Gamble gave me the inspiration to boil my life’s memoir down to six words.

I have my legacy, ladies and gentlemen, and maybe this will help me earn a regular paycheck when I graduate in less than a month.

I have a cure for senioritis.

Much like restless leg syndrome and seasonal affective disorder — two things that affect more people than you realize, and have given pharmaceutical companies both a marketing tool and an excuse to make a drug to cure these “ailments” — senioritis is the most common undiagnosed ailment plaguing Marquette students.

Although this hits seniors the hardest, it can affect everyone. A junior or two have told me they already feel the onset.

Consider the warning signs:
If you have ever waited until the night before a paper was due to A: start research, B: start writing, and C: weave a tapestry of verbage into a cohesive five or more pages with the words just flowing from your fingertips, you may be a victim of senioritis.

If you have whined, moaned and groaned at the prospect of another group project with people you’ll stalk on Facebook just to know what they look like, you may have symptoms of senioritis.

If, at times, you see absolutely no point to the daily grind of school when far more important items arise — such as going to Brewers-Cubs games, hanging out with the same crowd at Caffrey’s Pub or Murphy’s Irish Pub, and hunting for internships, jobs and an  apartment — you could be a spokesperson for senioritis.

Would you be surprised if I told you that I actually thought of the idea for this column while procrastinating on a paper? Of course not.

Here is a possible solution:
Since the pharmaceutical companies are well-stocked with both financial reserves and free pens marketing their products, it stands to reason they would have enough money to develop a magic pill to cure senioritis.

This pill, taken with a glass of water, or more appropriately a Leinie’s Summer Shandy, would eliminate senioritis.

It would give you enough energy to get through papers, enough sanity to get through group projects and enough strength to get through exams.

I even have a name — Senioritis Negation And Prevention — or as it will be known in ads from this point forward, SNAP. Those who do marketing and advertising should be able to come up with a bevy of taglines and slogans.

Possible side effects may include a reliance on SNAP to get non-school-related things done, along with headaches, insomnia and nausea. If you have a paper due in four hours you haven’t started, you should seek immediate medical attention. SNAP can’t help in every case.

So there it is, Marquette. You may be at the heart of the cutting edge technology that could change the lacking and lamentable study habits of seniors for generations to come.

The only catch is, I’m coming up with this hypothetical pill as a graduating senior … and thus will never be able to use it myself. I hope someone can.