I don’t feel bad for having spent most of last week curled up with a book in my air-conditioned bedroom, blissfully ignoring the weather’s pleas to venture out into the uncannily summerlike NOVA temperatures.
There are nearly 16,000 undergraduates at U.Va. and a large portion go somewhere tropical for spring break — you’re bound to run into a few fellow Wahoos in places like Punta Cana or Cancun.
To me, it was like any other trolley ride back to grounds from downtown. Until the old lady wearing a long floral skirt and a straw sun hat got on with her various grocery bags from the food drive.
“You’re just too romantically intense,” my friend said as we circled the Lawn.
As my cast mates and I took our bows after our opening night of "The Triumph of Love," the only thing I could think about was how I almost didn’t audition for this show.
In that moment, I felt utterly content with my surroundings. I knew I had found a place where I fit in — a group where people don’t find it crazy to love running, or to eat protein bars like candy.
I decided to see if I could stomach one week without my favorite food group (besides bread).
Hanging on the wall is a chalkboard where my roommates and I made a fourth-year bucket list, including everything from “bring back UGGs” to “go wine tasting.”
After coming from a series of small private schools, it was jarring to begin my academic experience at U.Va. not face-to-face with a beloved teacher.
On a two-day, 1600-mile jaunt up and down the southern east coast this past weekend, I passed the exit on I-95 for a small Georgia island where I always spend holidays visiting family.
I was taken aback when rather than greeting me with a “hello,” my mom's immediate response was “is everything ok?”
The end of my senior year of high school did not cure me of my senioritis. Nor did the start of college.
I recently learned Facebook allows you to unfollow your friends’ posts so you don’t have to see them on your News Feed.
The thought struck me as I entered a medical clinic this weekend, praying for a doctor to cure me after a period of prolonged illness. Suddenly it occurred to me — I am still on my parents’ insurance plan.
Not so subtly hidden within the word, though, is a smaller one — success. But no one ever asks about a succession plan for “failure.”
The phrase, “that should work” has become a common part of my vocabulary. But what are the implications of this tendency?
I’ve noticed my television addiction has started to take priority over other parts of my life, parts which are more valuable for my social, academic and physical wellness.
Over fall break, a group of friends and I road-tripped to southern Georgia, exploring nearby coastlines and crashing at my aunt and uncle’s house each night.
Last week, I spent a thrilling Saturday night making a LinkedIn profile under the guidance of a friend of mine who maintained an “Expert Level” profile since High School.
