On any given day, you can find me in my bedroom, living room, Nau hall, Newcomb, the AFC, Alderman, the Corner’s restaurants and Clem.
This semester, as a part of a project for one of my classes, I have been reading and transcribing letters my Grandparents wrote to each other during World War II.
“Say what you mean, and mean what you say,” is the overused and cliché way to explain this. “Be deliberate,” at least in my mind, has a more attractive ring to it.
I’m becoming increasingly convinced I may be one of the few remaining non-Fitbit owners left as I walk around on Grounds and see the recognizable bands on nearly everyone’s wrists.
“Tonight, let’s go to Clem.” “Ew, why? Let’s go to Alderman.” This conversation comes up often when my friends and I decide on a place to study.
This past semester, I have heard dozens of professors tell tales of numerous major changes and multiple gap years before deciding to get into research or pursuing advanced degrees.
Something bizarre happened to me the other day: I received personalized career advice from not one, but two of my instructors.
While the feeling of being alone in a crowd seems cliché, there are times when it is very much a reality.
My morning crankiness left me hoping with every fiber of my being that this man wouldn’t turn around to address me.
It may have started as a joke, but there was nothing funny about President Teresa Sullivan walking through the door of our apartment.
April holds a special place in my heart, as these first few days mark the start of six months full of triumph, challenge, heartbreak and victory.
“Gooch-Dillard? What is that?” I exclaimed, having just received my first-year housing assignment.
I’ve always felt qualms after enjoying a barbeque sandwich or a hamburger, but managed to suppress that guilt because of the pure joy I experienced each time I ate one.
As we were sitting at Easter brunch, a friend of mine recounted how her family had recently grilled her about her future. Given that she has had a job since the beginning of the school year, this surprised me.
I must be watching too many movies. Or reading too many books. You listen to enough stories, and after a while you start to think life works similarly to the stories you’ve been listening to.
I am awkward. So, when I approached Madison in the Newcomb dining hall, I was horribly awkward. “Hi, can I sit with you?” I asked.
I can’t forget the simultaneous power and frustration I felt over my stockpiles of Plus Dollars, resulting in a continual catch-22 of needing to get rid of them but not wanting to consume the extra gummy worms.
We all have a few favorite fictional worlds. While I prefer to repeatedly stroll the streets of Star’s Hollow with Lorelai and Rory, my mother would rather follow the students of Hogwarts around the corridors of the castle.
Here’s to hoping a therapist can answer why we must put in so much effort to find work for little-to-no pay during a time that is supposed to be our break.
