Almost as soon as I woke up Sunday morning to catch my flight back to Charlottesville, I felt the waves of a homework-induced headache descend over me.
While many University students left early last week to return home, not everyone can say they actually left Charlottesville’s city limits this Thanksgiving break.
For third-year College student Daniel Rosenfeld and third-year College student Sky Miller, working on research for the State Department counts as normal after-class activity.
At age 6, most children are counting to 30, learning to read or maximizing tag time before dinner.
Last Friday, my friend Sarah and I briefly retired from the traditional first-year nightlife routine of frequenting frat parties.
I have a strange love for road trips and plane rides. I hope anyone going home for the holidays will ultimately be able to understand this sentiment — though I know it may take some explanation first. You see, while there are certainly downsides to traveling — having to wait in massive security lines, having your flight cancelled or, in the case of a road trip, being stuck in terrible traffic —overall, I tend to see the experience as an enjoyable one. First, there is the people-watching.
Great ideas, stimulating speeches and burgers — what more could you want from a weekday night at Boylan?
“I am a cheesy house full of romances, happiness and humor.”
Last Friday, O Records — a student-run record label — put on a charity concert at O’Hill forum, showcasing its diverse and talented musicians in a casual but meaningful manner.
It’s no secret reaching an optimal level of pre-competition energy is a key to athletic success. Put more simply: the age-old “pump up” routine proves what happens outside competition can be almost as important as what transpires during it.
1. When asked about your love life If you don’t have one, make one up. There’s no avoiding the 12 million questions which, coming from any and all parties, concerning your romantic interests — a topic apparently of utmost relevance to anyone who shares even a drop of your bloodline.
First semester of fourth year is coming to a close, but my conversations are beginning to resemble those of a high school senior.
At the University, music is omnipresent. Walking through dorms, you can hear an eclectic mix of songs permeating through the walls.
Finding God An agnostic’s church experiences by: Grace Muth The congregation had come before the altar, before the pulpit and stage, and we crept through the back entrance, hands lifted in song lyrics projected onto the white walls.
Kim Brooks Mata lives by one philosophy: dance is a reflection of life, while life is a reflection of dance.
To quote our nation’s most revered nightrider (pun intended): “The turkeys are coming!” Well, no, those may not have been Paul’s words verbatim.
I have never been more excited or ready for Thanksgiving break than I am this year. I can say this with full certainty as I sit on the fourth floor of Alderman, my eyes feeling dry as I stare at my computer screen for another solid hour and the little white squares on my iCal taunting me with the days left between me and going home. “Going home” used to be an expression casually tossed around as I climbed into my car after a day of high school or left my friend’s house after a night spent out, but now, as a fourth year in college who has spent the past 3 1/2 years living by myself, it means something more, something different. “Going home” now means packing up a small parcel of my life here at the University and taking it back to the place that constituted my life for 18 years.
One feature every University student has in common is this: we were the high school students who had the stellar GPAs and test scores, and spent our days running from practices to club meetings to tutoring and back again.
A few days ago, I opened my Facebook to 47 notifications. Needless to say, I was thrilled people were finally recognizing the caliber of my Facebook profile, which includes biannual statuses about some life-changing event and stunning tagged pictures of me at my best. My high hopes and dreams were quickly shattered when I realized what the reality entailed.
My best friends are fiercely loyal and come with no strings attached. They know my phone always dies at least three times during the day, that I have a mild Rue La La addiction — or, in their words, a severe addiction to online shopping — and that my alter ego is a cat that tends to come out when I hit a point of deliriousness.
