ONE@UVA is a college chapter of the larger international non-profit ONE, which is headquartered in Washington D.C.. ONE aims to bring about social change by working with politicians and legislators.
Sparks fly in one direction as Engineering duo goes to MIchael's Bistro, Berry Berry and a Garden.
1. The Fluent Italian StudentThey’re the ones who don’t gain weight from eating pasta everyday and know how to order said pasta with a convincing accent.
I was going to submit an article about something lighthearted this week.
We walk quietly together, the lights and warmth of the Lawn behind us, through the construction and past the deepened slopes of Mad Bowl to our homes.
A couple of weeks ago in class, I seriously thought I might have to tackle someone. It happened in an “Unforgettable Lectures” class — and it was unforgettable, though not entirely for the reasons advertised.
Some may claim my sluggish behavior is a sign of senioritis — a virus difficult to diagnose. Contrary to popular belief and student-perpetuated myth, senioritis does not affect only those students on the cusp of graduation. I would hypothesize we are all born with a small dose of this poison and, unfortunately, there is no cure. No amount of illegal study drugs will save us.
I was having dinner with my friend the other night when she casually mentioned a childhood friend of hers had committed suicide recently.
Second-year College student Makayla Palazzo is studying economics thousands of miles away from her home in Japan.
Musicians on Call - a volunteer-based CIO at the University – allows students the weekly opportunity to put aside the frenzy of student life in order to provide solace to patients at the U.Va. hospital through musical performance.
When they first arrived at the University, roommates Alexis Chaet and Claire Constance knew they wanted to get involved with the Center for Global Health.
A date at The Virginian resembles prom with a good friend
Sitting in a folding chair next to neat piles of saffron, cumin and sumaq, a portly man with an unbuttoned linen shirt looked me over as I lingered to take a photo of his vibrant spices.
It is 10:11 p.m. and I am running. The sun set hours ago and my eyes are already beginning to droop from exhaustion, yet I move as quickly as my feet will take me.
The idea behind writing the honor pledge is fairly simple; it both affirms the student has not somehow failed to notice the concept of honor during his time at the University and requires the student to explicitly give his word. To me, however, the pledge is a ceremonial act.
In the past three months, I have started blushing. You’ve probably heard of it — it’s that thing stuffy old women did during the 17th century, except back then they could just faint to hide their shame, have their manservant Gregory bring over their smelling salts and blame it on their weak feminine constitution.
New York may be far from Virginia, but it’s not a “thirteen hours” kind of far. Over the summer, I drove my 1995 white Ford Taurus – a pretty little car with a turning radius comparable to that of a tugboat – from Charlottesville to Long Island for my brother’s high school graduation.
Coming to college, I had no idea how much I would miss being around real people. Now, we are all, of course, very real and I don’t mean to depreciate our value as University students, but I mean real people as in mothers and fathers, babies and grandparents, little sisters and big brothers.
There are several narratives of my experiences I could use to preface a column that attempts to explain my feelings about the rampant presence of sexual objectification on U.Va.
The smorgasbord of scribbled notes on the walls of any given cubicle give lonely, tired souls a sense of solidarity — and, of course, a source of entertainment when they just can’t focus any longer.
