Social spirituality
By Kristin Murtha | September 28, 2015Growing up, it was almost impossible for me to sit through Sunday services at St. Luke’s church without some kind of distraction.
Growing up, it was almost impossible for me to sit through Sunday services at St. Luke’s church without some kind of distraction.
My adolescent years were steeped in feelings towards resentfulness of 6 a.m. wakeup calls.
In case you missed it, the Department of Treasury is in the process of choosing a woman to be the new face of the $10 bill.
Well, after a weekend’s worth of festivities and full-blown procrastination, the inevitable Sunday morning panic has arrived.
My roommate hates interventions. I learned this last spring when I took on the role of mother and demanded she get some more sleep, for her own good.
The office was silent, save for the sound of clicking keyboards. I felt my coworkers’ presences looming all around me in our tight working space.
When I walked onto Grounds fall of my first year, I had a plan. I knew exactly what clubs I wanted to join.
Give these unconventional Charlottesville fall activities a try.
I came to college with the firm belief friendships are only worth growing if they have the potential to become exceptionally tight-knit.
Every morning on my way to class I pass by Acme Tattoo and Piercing on the Corner, and almost every morning, that little voice in the back of my head tells me to go in and get one.
The best ways save as a student in Charlottesville.
During this year’s MTV Video Music Video Awards, Kanye West accepted the award for Video Vanguard.
After returning to Grounds and seeing friends for the first time in months, I find myself frequently saying, “Want to get coffee?” or “We should grab lunch!” I’ve enjoyed the coffee dates I’ve had so far — and look forward to more in the future — but I’ve started to wonder why these encounters always involve some sort of food or beverage. What does our need for food in social settings say about our relationships?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve told myself everything happens for a reason.
A graveyard of retired planners sits in the drawer of my bedroom nightstand.
I have a 16-year-old sister, so I think I’m fairly “up with the times” — a phrase some self-proclaimed “cool mom” probably says at least twice a week.
I remember the fourth years I met during my first year of college.
Recently, children all across the U.S. flocked to local card stores, desperately searching for the perfect Hallmark-concocted one-liner to say, “I love you, Dad.” The trouble with entering that isle of brightly colored rhymes and bedazzled hearts, I realized, is that Hallmark charges up to eight bucks per card, and this year I had to buy two.
There’s a life hack I like to call the “theater of life." It provides entertainment and insight during boring classes, long car rides and awkward family dinners.
Sundays on a college campus are a rare specimen of ratchet. Delaying the onset of homework and a heavy hangover, students unapologetically stuff themselves with brunch and bawdy tales of debauchery from the weekend’s late nights.