One of the University’s most notable recent accomplishments, in my mind, is the push for environmental sustainability on Grounds.
I am seriously obsessed with fantasy series. One of my earliest memories is of reading children’s books brimming with unicorns and fairies.
Walking outside this week was like walking into a sauna. The air was sticky, but in a way pleasantly humid after the endless months I spent inside this winter.
I don’t have the luxury of getting to see my extended family very often since we are spread over a vast swath of the U.S.
There’s something oddly comforting about studying in a cubicle. Perhaps these are just the crazed ramblings of someone who has been inside looking at book pages for too long, but I haven’t been able to shake this thought for a few weeks now. What once was a sad, drudging plod to Clemons has become a ritual.
Every once in a while I like to delude myself into thinking that I’m classy. In my imagination, I’m the type that wakes up early, takes a cup of coffee to the porch to read the paper while petting my cat.
I’ve come to terms with having a complete mental breakdown roughly three times a semester. It’s practically a ritual now, where everything suddenly piles up and engulfs me, dragging me to the bottom of a lake of self-pity. To the general annoyance of my friends and neighbors, I find myself holed up in my room, eating tubs of raw cookie dough and watching reruns of television shows, attempting to convince myself that by not doing anything, I am, in fact, helping myself.
I recently read a quote by the intrepid explorer Richard Francis Burton that struck me: “One of the gladdest moments of human life, methinks, is the departure upon a distant journey into unknown lands.
Ah, that faint smell in the air. That hard edge on the corner of your mind. That growing feeling pushing down on you when you sit.
I’ve never really been a birthday person. In the past, the event has been riddled with enough anxiety to make it generally unpleasant.
