It was the morning of Friday, July 7, when fourUniversity graduates, living in four different states and charting four different courses with their lives, got the same chilling phone call.
Recently, I took a little jaunt from my refrigerator-box sized studio apartment in Manhattan to Charlottesville to celebrate my 21st birthday (an event which certainly did not result in me falling into the coin fountain at Coupes) and move into my new apartment.For every year I have been at the University, I have lived in a different location and finally, for the first time, I have made a move up the housing hierarchy.
TRIPOLI, LEBANON, JULY 20 -- It's been just over a week since I woke up to find myself stranded in a war zone.
Wikinews. Wikiquote. Wiktionary. Best of all, Wikipedia. In case you're one of the three remaining University students who hasn't heard of Wikipedia, then let me fill you in.
Thomas Jefferson believed that nobody could ever attain the rank of "senior" when it came to education, because the quest for knowledge was never complete.
"Gettimelam, Gettimelam!" With the much-awaited cue, the musicians played the traditional wedding tune, and my cousin took the kaluthooru (wedding necklace) and tied its sacred cord with three knots, officially making the bride my Anni (a term meaning "elder brother's wife"). The three knots are said to symbolize the following: the first knot is of relationship, the second knot gives the bride and groom rights over each other, and the third knot tells the world they are married. I stood there in my new purple sari, matching the ones my cousins wore, taking delight in all the special symbolic rituals that come along with a traditional South Indian wedding.
Last summer, I thought I had set an all-time record for "summer job least suited to my personal talents, interests and skills" by taking a ritzy babysitting job, during which I catered to the demands of four-year-old yuppies wearing miniature ascots (I have since decided that I will not reproduce, thanks) and their horrifying parents who demanded that their little brat only be given organic soy chocolate milk and kept indoors at all times. Please.
I like to cook. My friends like to cook. Yes, I have friends. Some have suggested that I have friends only because I cook well, but enough speculation for now. We like to cook in my apartment.
Summertime: A time when the shackles of education are thrown off and young people grab hold of the reigns to their lives.
Before I launch into a wealth of valuable advice (read: a couple of slightly humorous observtions) for the first-time office worker, I must say a word about something I realized today -- getting out of a mall at closing time is tantamount to escaping from Alcatraz ... at high tide ... in shark-infested waters.
As humans, and especially as students, we have this nagging voice that encourages us to want to find out more about things that are taboo.
Nothing spells summer like the letters "s," "u," "m," "m," "e" and "r." That's a fact. You can write it down if you want. But if you live in a country other than the United States, this summer can also be encapsulated by the curious compound word "football." Derived from the Greek for "incredibly dull," the word has been anglicized to refer to a game in which 22 men incidentally crash into one another and then act like fish out of water, flopping around in feigned agony until an older man threatens them with an almighty square of yellow or red construction paper.
While some University students travel the globe during their summers and others find time to tan at the beach, some many University students are hard at work as interns.
Put down your flute of champagne and get off the plush G5's seat. You have arrived, and it is time to get off the plane.
Maybe you're in your early 20s. Maybe you're just a teenager. It doesn't matter, you're old. You might not know it but, in many ways, your best years are already behind you.
It was a hot, sunny morning on May 4, the first day of finals. It was definitely not a day conducive to studying or taking exams.
Brendan: For many fourth years, this will be the last Life column they read as students. We want nothing more than to end their illustrious Cav Daily-reading careers on a high note, and really go out with a bang.
Sounding off ... to the Races! I wanted to begin my column with an apology to a very special reader, whose feelings I accidentally hurt two weeks ago.
Walking through the old wrought iron gates of the University Cemetery on a sunny afternoon in April, students are met with a peaceful calm.
Acouple of months ago, I started to get bothered by the concept of time. You see, I am a late bloomer when it comes down to it.
