In Japan, there is a famous saying: “Mottainai,” which effectively means “don’t be wasteful.” It is used in a variety of settings, but largely in terms of garbage and food, in a spirit comparable to the “go green” movement in America.
On Monday I arrived in Dublin, Ireland—my home for the next two months. As my flight was landing, I looked out the window to see countless blades of very green grass as the Irish lady sitting next to me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Welcome to Ireland.” In many ways, Ireland is a lot like the United States.
As a philosophy major, East Asian Studies minor and resident of the Japanese floor of the Shea House, I have dedicated a good amount of time to studying Japan and its culture.
The other day, I was sitting at a restaurant with someone else — who for the sake of this article I will call Bob — and our waitress came over to greet us.
My parents often remind me of an annoying stage I went through as a child — one I think is common to all children just beginning to explore the world.
If I had the opportunity to converse with the girl I was at beginning of my first year, I’d be sure to mention the following.
1. Refer to every grassy area as Grounds: I think I’m allergic to the word “campus.” I’m not one of those people who will overtly correct you if you happen to utter it, but know that I’m scowling on the inside and any chance at marriage with me you thought you had will forever be just a dream.
My friend sat down across from me in a corner of Newcomb, hair unbrushed, belt forgotten. It was late March and tendrils of spring had began to sneak into our routine walks from Watson-Webb to the Chem building.
Recently, University students received the opportunity to vote on their choice of three proposals offered for the 2015 – and potentially 2016 – graduation ceremonies.
One of my French professors — whose name is Pierre, naturally — routinely enters the classroom after our 15-minute repose carrying a wave of cigarette smoke with him.
I’ve taken on this insane habit lately of waking up at 7:30 in the mornings. This is nothing of my own accord, at least not entirely.
As an English major, I invariably deal with a lot of words. Poems, essays, short stories—whatever form they’re in, I’ve experienced them.
Living exclusively among young adults, our perspective within the microcosm that is the University can at times be myopic.
As I drifted in and out of sleep one Sunday morning, I had a nightmare in which I accidentally slept through all my classes the day a term paper was due.
1. Lily Pulitzer Try to resist it, but you can’t. No, it is not your Aristocrat-influenced eyes that are playing tricks on you- there really are six girls within ten-foot radius that are wearing the same dress.
Last week, my excessively blunt friend commented on one of my recent Facebook posts saying, “You have a talent for making life look perfect.” The post she was referring to as “perfect” was a video I made of my recent spring break trip – created with professional software and set to overly sentimental music.
As my second year concludes, I find myself entering the final half of college and coming closer to the looming “real world.” Some find the leap from high school to college and the newfound freedom to be particularly jarring.
I am going into battle against my own university. Reason: two 10-minute presentations, three eight-page-plus papers and two upcoming final exams.
If I’ve learned anything from the two short decades I’ve spent on this planet, it’s not to trust nice people.
You know that nice, triangular grassy patch where everyone picnics across the street from Bodo’s? Where Brooks Hall is?* It needs a name. The fact that I just had to use so many words to describe a place we go all the time is, if you ask any writer, English major or literary inclined person, an utter linguistic travesty.
