For the past two decades, U.Va. has had a consistent suicide rate of 0.5 per year, or one suicide every two years. This number has drastically increased for the 2014-2015 school year, however, with three likely suicides having occurred during the fall 2014 semester.
I did this to myself. Let’s weigh my options.
Winter must be one of two things — warm or apocalyptically snowy. This one has been neither.
Selling 100 million copies worldwide and bringing in more than 81 million dollars during its first weekend in theaters, “Fifty Shades of Grey” has certainly enraptured its audiences.
I skipped four classes last week. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Three of these were planned — I was going out of town for the weekend, and my trip was definitely worth it.
No Valentine’s kiss, but paper roses do the trick
Emma DiNapoli, a 2014 graduate of the College, did not initially see herself joining the Peace Corps after graduation.
Without a doubt, the thing I miss the least about college is the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling afflicting me every finals season as I sat in Clemons circa three a.m.
My fourth-year apartment housed four girls. Two were Commerce students whose summer internships had landed them jobs for the upcoming year. The third, on the pre-med track, was studying for the MCAT while submitting applications to medical schools. Then there was me — no job secured, no grad school in sight.
University Career Services traditionally focuses on career fairs and resume workshops to prepare students for post-graduate life. However, Everette Fortner, Associate Vice President of Career and Professional Development, has a new goal: instill confidence in students pursuing liberal arts degrees.
Skepticism and doubt can be just as healthy as optimism. Never was this been more apparent to me than last summer, when I received a phone call from the National Alopecia Areata Foundation (NAAF) saying a cure for alopecia was close at hand.
Tinder: It’s eerily reminiscent of your grandma wagging her finger back and forth at you, telling you, “We weren’t so superficial in my age!” — back and forth — swipe right, swipe left.
I’ve just crossed the border into an unfamiliar territory — being single on Valentine’s Day. Should I start planning for the apocalypse now or when I’m drinking my sorrows away on Saturday? If you cannot tell, the break up happened recently.
Call me my father’s daughter, but I’ll be damned if I don’t love nachos. Yet never had I thought my love of chips and cheese would be correlated with the success of my, erm, love life.
Before the date, both students said they were intimidated by the intensity of the questions. They said many of the questions resembled ones they would ask a close friend — not a first date.
It’s been indescribably painful to be without you for this long. Since you’ve been gone, I‘ve had to follow random Instagram accounts in order to make up for my incredibly dull feed.
Recently, there was an article in The Cavalier Daily describing how fellow student Attiya Latif brought World Hijab Day to Grounds. While it was a well-written article, something about it bothered me — the hurtful comments.
While several people are panicking over the unforgivable sacrilege of being single on Valentine’s Day, I am panicking over turning 21 shortly thereafter.
Valentine’s Day in elementary school is blissfully simple. You spend one afternoon covering a shoebox you brought from home with lopsided red and pink construction paper hearts, then circle around the classroom stuffing one Peanut’s themed slip of paper — with a Hershey’s Kiss taped to the bottom if your mom was feeling really generous — into each classmate’s box, no questions asked.
Meeting someone new before graduation
