Before I recently dropped out, I was in the Distinguished Majors Program for English. This was surprising for everyone, as I am majoring in physics and the longest word I can spell correctly is 'Jell-O.' This lack of writing skills is tough on my editors, who keep threatening to fire me unless I start using capital letters and/or English characters.
As I was sipping Swiss Miss Marshmallow Lovers from my favorite fish mug with the tail for the handle and recalling a recent phone conversation with a best friend, I began thinking about advice.
Birthday parties are anything but out of the ordinary -- unless you're celebrating your 2,634th birthday, give or take a few hundred years.
It was a worst-case scenario. The Sudoku was far easier than anticipated for the mid-week, leaving me with a solid 40 minutes of remaining class time.
If you're like me, your parents have come to visit you at least once during your time at U.Va. U.Va.
What's the difference between the Big Apple and the Windy City? Is Red Sox fandom all it's cracked up to be?
Been spendin' most our lives livin' in the gangsta's paradise." I remember hearing Coolio croon these profound lines as an 8-year-old in the preview for "Dangerous Minds." This fine little clip contained scenes from a movie I was not permitted to watch, along with snippets of a song I wasn't allowed to listen to.
They're stronger than all animals smaller than dogs. They're able to leap multiple people in Uggs in a single bound.
With Election Day upon us and a mere 12 months until we cast votes in the 2008 presidential election, political activism on Grounds is in full swing.
Student: Sam Bulasky Class: SPAN 101 "Family Matters" character: What? Attentiveness: 1 Enthusiasm: 1 Hotness: I don't think it would be appropriate for me to comment on a student's physical appearance, but if I had to, I would say 1. Overall score: 1 Professor's Comments: When he wasn't snoozing in class, Sam pretended to take notes on his laptop.
The dark labyrinth of the bottom floor of Culbreth Theatre winds past a wall of long, flowing, black curtains and past a set of double doors, ending in a dimly lit narrow corridor that stops abruptly at yet another set of doors through which it all begins.
This Halloween weekend, rather than dressing in an absolutely scary costume like Frankenstein or Richard Nixon, I was a condom fairy, which meant I donned wings and handed out free condoms to partiers.
The dream is over. My final collegiate Halloween has come and gone. My fantasies of outlandish costumes have gone out the window faster than Michael Jackson's children.
C alendars, clocks, watches or cell phones are not needed to tell what day of the week it is. One only needs to pay attention to the casual chatter heard around Grounds: By recognizing the cookie-cutter conversation pieces, one can easily pick out what day of the week it is.
I knew something was wrong with me when I realized I had gone emo. I don't recall how it happened, but I found myself lying on the floor, spread-eagle and in the dark, listening to (gasp!
Sasheer Moore, a fourth-year College student, said she never gave much thought to theater before college. "In high school, I never really did theater," Moore said.
Doctors and nurses are in and out of the room, white coats and ID badges whizzing by. Machines whir as those in the room glance worriedly at the displayed graph.
I realize I wrote my fall fashion column at the end of September, full of delightful combinations of trendy tights and boots.
Eventually, you have to leave. Graduate, I mean. People tell you this, occasionally, as though it helps.
