As a longtime loather of all reality shows, I have become obsessed with "Love Island."
I will testify that fourth year is not very chill at all. Let me be the first to tell you — it’s not all wineries and McKinsey interviews.
Because of my long-term commitment to learning English and applying it to my academics, I had nearly forgotten about a part of what makes me who I am.
Even though "The Bachelor" might not have as much substance as a documentary, you can still pick up some helpful tips about life just from watching the show.
I may be considered a beat behind because I don't have anything completely planned for my future yet, but it is perfectly fine to take a minute to figure it all out.
I had never pumped my own gas before.
All semester long, I wrote columns for The Cavalier Daily on being sick. Even when I tried branching out, I felt compelled to stick in at least one sentence from Sick Girl.
My fear of the unknown and my fear of unfamiliar situations combined to produce less-than-stellar results.
I’m 2,500 miles away from my family, yet I feel so at home.
I actually consider myself to be a book hoarder — I’ve never given away a book I’ve received, and my 20-year-strong collection is scattered throughout the places I’ve lived in the past.
Instead of trying to do and be better, I’ve decided to do less.
I start bullet journals without ever finishing them.
Economic depletion stifles the mobility of families caught in the cycle of Appalachian poverty. Confederate flags hang from the front porches of houses and private businesses that we drive past.
When it comes to my relationship, I am a bit territorial.
We tend to place more value in our natural talents because we dislike failing, but it’s rare to succeed when trying something new for the first time.
I’ve dabbled in the podcast world casually, but none of the murder mysteries, history lessons or politically relevant musings have ever held my attention for more than a couple installments.
If you wrote this season as a movie, Hollywood executives would dump the script in the garbage. It’s too perfect. The redemption arc is too clean.
Even though sometimes I like to revel in my sappy nostalgia and eat a sleeve of Oreos, underneath that I’m still OK with it.
For all you sports fans out there, I present to you my breakdown of U.Va. basketball from someone who has never watched a U.Va. basketball game.
Although we spent hours designing our common space, our best piece is tucked away in the back hallway where almost no one sees it.
