Adjusting to a new name and new identity
By Madeline Seymour | December 20, 2017Until recently, I had never given much thought to the names I used.
Until recently, I had never given much thought to the names I used.
One of my favorite parts of the holiday season is definitely the food — especially the sweets.
Even if one eye may be focused on today, my other is always fixated on May.
Sure I’ve eaten more pizza slices in my life than spinach leaves, and I’ll never win the gym’s perfect attendance award, but serious health issues?
I’m now realizing that I’ll be experiencing reverse culture shock when I return to my small village in the countryside, after adapting to an American way of life.
I have compiled a guide explaining every person that you will find in the library, and how to make sure that this person is not you.
The internet doesn’t have nearly as much expertise as it seems. The locals still know best. Some hidden gems are still delightfully hidden.
I just learned the purpose of that little crescent moon icon on all iPhones.
This year, five University alumni made the Forbes 30 Under 30 lists.
The Alley Light has the quiet energy of an inside joke and walking inside is like joining an exclusive club.
Sofia and Chris met Nov. 10 at 4 p.m. and went for an early dinner at Bodo's Bagels.
The Bicentennial was kind of a big deal. I mean, it only comes around once every 200 years.
The atmosphere and crowd at Mellow Mushroom every Wednesday night has inspired other restaurants to host trivia.
I found four different types of chicken ramen noodle soup and set up a comparison on five different fronts: taste, price, cooking time, sodium content and calorie count.
I had faced the cold, hard reality of life at the age of six. “I want to be an accountant,” I announced.
You can pretty easily freestyle a love letter to just about anyone.
Mr. Pizza, if you’re reading this, just know that I’m going to swing by your place every day until I leave Siena, and I hope I hear you singing and smell your fresh baked dough.
If you’re from Southern California and have spent time away from it, you know that the Mexican food withdrawal is real.
The way I see it, I’ll only do this once.
When I came home from the University for Thanksgiving, I kicked my shoes off at the door, hugged my mom and dad and ran to the kitchen longing to smell the pungent stench of my mom’s kimchi stew.