Without a doubt, the thing I miss the least about college is the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling afflicting me every finals season as I sat in Clemons circa three a.m.
At the end of the day, you can go home knowing that you completed a project that day, from start to finish, which is something most organizations can’t offer.
In high school, I don’t think it would have ever occurred to me to feel grateful for my spot in a classroom.
I have no way of confirming this, but I think this week was a little off for everyone. I can’t remember the last time there were two snow days in a row at the University. Surprisingly, though, last weekend was beyond perfect, and I don’t think anybody — besides a couple of professors with their panties in a bunch — would have had it any other way. We got our own taste of Sochi.
Today, it was brought to my attention my peers log into Tinder with a wide array of intentions. Basically, it perplexed me my friend actually slept with someone she met using the app. My personal philosophy is this: use it sparingly, don’t respond when someone messages you and never meet in person.
First semester of fourth year is coming to a close, but my conversations are beginning to resemble those of a high school senior.
I find myself somewhat rubbed the wrong way when people give too much weight to the undergraduate major someone else is pursuing.
People are too nice, and I’m tired of hearing too much of the same thing. I’m tired of hearing my TA say, “Yeah, that’s a really good point!” when I didn’t even do the reading.
It all started when I was young ― when I was in the “why is the sky blue?” stage of my development, my curious nature seeking its food for thought.
As a Life columnist – I’ve got a little more leeway with my language, my assumptions, and my stories, because all views are only mine.
