By the time spring break finally rolled around, I was in desperate need of an escape from school.
As this week ushered in the official commencement of spring on Monday, I’ve begun to keep a close eye on the landscape of the Lawn and the surrounding gardens.
A few Mondays ago I received flowers for the first time. Well, slight correction — I was given a single purple flower, and it was actually a weed.
“What do you do?” he asked at some point. “Like, back home. How do you spend your time? What do you do?”
Unlike a large portion of the student population, I decided to stay in Charlottesville over spring break.
I’ve never been to Trinity Irish Pub, but I think my experience will go like this ...
This past Friday, after a long week of assignments crammed into a rigid schedule, my roommates and I decided it was time to let loose.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been a planner. For every play date and birthday party I had, there was a corresponding itinerary of activities with carefully allocated time slots.
The power of a small-scale interaction was incredible and diffused feelings of alienation.
I was talking to a friend about the logistics of said fish market — why hold it all, especially if it’s for free?
It wasn’t until recently that I realized silence is sometimes more powerful than loudness.
This morning, I got a haircut at the first place that showed up on Google when I typed in “haircut.” When I took off my beanie at the salon to reveal unwashed locks, in all of their split-ended glory, the hair stylist furrowed her perfectly-shaped brows.
This University is a big pool filled with people from several corners of the world. Each person you meet is like a snowflake: unique, yes, but also composed primarily of water.
Between Black Friday and Cyber Monday, the couple days have been a never-ending cycle of sales going on “today only!” and “limited time!” offers.
The National Sleep Foundation recommends 8-10 hours of sleep per night for teenagers and young adults, but a study by the University of Cincinnati reported that 55% of participating college students sleep for fewer than seven hours a night.
At the ends of the emails she sends students in response to tragedy, University President Teresa Sullivan typically emphasizes how we must “come together as a community.” Though this advice seems appropriate in theory, in practice it is difficult for people to cultivate an environment in which they share complex emotions without fear of judgment or imposition.
Asking someone how he or she is doing is a pretty standard part of any conversation. Whether it comes as an effort to catch up with a distant friend over coffee, or thrown casually over a shoulder to an acquaintance passing by on the Corner, it’s a question I ask dozens of times a day.
As we wind down the fall semester and temperatures begin to drop, students everywhere begin to accept the harsh reality of the changing seasons.
For many reasons, I am not comfortable with the idea that reducing the stigma behind mental health starts with equating mental illness with physical illness.
The phrase “we, the people” implies a populants of a society are inherently interconnected. Coined by our forefathers, the words link the people of a nation using one commonality: our shared humanity. I find myself keeping these words in mind as I begrudgingly approach the end of my college career.
