I could easily imagine coming here with a large group and sharing several of the appetizers.
You saw some of those hopes come to life, but you also saw some of your dreams wither away.
The past two weeks have solidified what I always thought might be true: I am quite good at relaxing.
Two years is longer than you’d think — I’m glad I’m halfway started.
I trace back the strings of decisions and events that have lead me to particular outcomes.
When it comes to the prospect of going home for three months, it seems many of us are caught between excitement and dread.
Living in a community, however large or small, is a gift.
The psychological influence you can have simply based on the way you walk is astounding.
Students are always surprised when I tell them I’m a transfer student, like I'm not-a-true-wahoo or something.
As this is my last column of the year, it seems inevitable to write a cliché “What I’ve Learned from First Year” column.
Nestled between comparatively behemoth, red-brick academic buildings, on Grounds just north of Jefferson Park Avenue, there sits a collection of four, distinctly older houses.
Trump’s win over Clinton: I think it’s safe to say that none of us saw this coming.
After working for 23 years and 21 years, respectively, Lane and Frey will be retiring after this academic year.
Walker and Erin met in front of Poe’s room at 6 p.m. April 19 and then went out to dinner at Fig Bistro.
I just want to talk about trust falls without any deeper meaning attached to it. That is all.
The worst is when there are awkward one hour gaps between classes.
There’s no quicker way to share smiles than simply giving one yourself.
Many activities lack the thrill I once felt as a first-year, but next semester does not have to be routine.
You become me, and we’re different people. And no offense, but I like me more.
The merging of music and social media brings back a lot of what I loved about the art of making a mixtape.
