Cut it out
The current three most important facts of my life are:
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The current three most important facts of my life are:
Almost as soon as I woke up Sunday morning to catch my flight back to Charlottesville, I felt the waves of a homework-induced headache descend over me. In the shower, a few faint but clear dry coughs escaped me — signs of the season’s first cold. And despite a week of sleeping 11-plus hours per night, I opened my eyes only a handful of times during my entire eight-hour journey back to Grounds.
At this point in my life, the number of single female friends I have is dwindling. Luckily, this fact generally has zero relevance in my day-to-day existence — besides the constant danger of walking in on ungodly displays of spooning.
After a year of literal sweat, tears and a few drops of paper-cut-induced blood, I am relinquishing my central U.Va. leadership position and handing it off to the next victim.
This column serves as your friendly reminder that we have officially entered the two-week pre-Halloween period. I have personally had a mental countdown going since early September, when Yandy — the web’s greatest repository for “Mean Girls”-approved costumes — began advertising its prime selection of sexy bumblebee, naughty witch and dirty Dorothy costumes on my Pandora radio stations.
When I first started writing for the Life section a little more than a year ago, I was assigned to write a biweekly “how to” column. The idea stemmed from a lingering tween obsession with “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days” and a fantasy in which I magically morphed into Kate Hudson, or, more specifically, Andie Anderson: How to Girl.
Fact of life: the Freshman 15 is a myth. I actually do not believe it’s humanly possible to gain weight while eating at the dining hall unless you live on fries alone. I became a brief vegetarian and essentially went on the raw diet due to a refusal to eat anything warmed by a heat lamp.
From the beginning, the University has had a bit of a problem with sex. Like everything great about this beautiful school, the story begins with our old pal TJ. Let’s face it, if he couldn’t keep it in his pants the rest of us mere mortals were doomed from the start.
After two years of college, four years of high school and 11 years of grade school, let me say: I am just about done with exams. APs? Check. SAT? You bet. Finals? Way too many to count — and many more to come.
At the moment I’m writing this — Sunday, April 14 at 3:22 p.m. — we have exactly 12 days of classes left. By the time this column prints, we will be well on our way to a mere 10. Looking back on this time last year, as we packed up brown boxes full of clothes, threw out nine months worth of trash and headed off to the sometimes-horrifying Myrtle Beach to toast to the school year’s end, I think it’s safe to say we had no idea what we were in for the next fall.
If you ever have a conversation with me that lasts for more than two minutes, you will know the four basic facts of Anne-Marie Albracht.
We spend our entire lifetime trying to figure out how to live. As college students, we pull all-nighters to make better grades to get better jobs to make more money to improve our quality of life and “live better.” Your train of thought may not exactly follow those lines, but in general, that’s pretty much how it goes.
This may be the week all of Grounds goes insane. Between elections, midterms and the millions of applications that are due between now and spring break, there is way too much to do and essentially five minutes to get it all done. I can already feel the stress-induced pre-exam panic attacks sneaking up on me and the week has barely started. Awesome.
It’s safe to say this has been a politically charged year at the University. Before we even set foot on Grounds, students and faculty alike took up arms to defend the name and position of University President Teresa Sullivan. We were praised across the nation as defenders of justice and democracy as we protested the un-Jeffersonian nature of the entire ordeal in newspapers, in our every day discourse and here in Charlottesville. And here we are, again in hot water, calling into question not the decision of an easily demonized Board member, but rather the very foundation of the university we call home: the honor system.
Sometimes when I sit down to write a column, I have so much to say that the words just flow onto the page as smooth as butter. More often, I stare at a blank document for an hour, slowly work my way through an entire can of sour cream and onion Pringles, and proceed to stare at the page for another hour while contemplating whether or not I need to declare a state of emergency and pull out the Cheetos.
Dear potential new members, this week’s column goes out to you. Keep on rushin’ on.
Grace Brown is a self-professed introvert. Calm and contemplative, she prefers to keep her thoughts to herself and to digest the world from behind her camera’s thick lens. Through her looking glass, she quietly snaps shots of men and women, girls and boys, young and old and rich and poor. She silently captures intimate images of hurt and heartbreak, sadness and betrayal and hope and empowerment, all in the same frame. She doesn’t push, pry or ask questions. She doesn’t need to — her pictures say it all.
Here we are again. Despite the countless promises I made to myself before Thanksgiving, I opted for blissful ignorance above proactive preparedness this break. And I have to tell you: I don’t regret it one bit. As far as I’m concerned, time spent with family is time best spent. Sitting around my Thanksgiving dinner table, listening a little harder than usual — read: talking a lot less — it struck me that the voices I was hearing wouldn’t always be the same. New ones will come and old ones will go, and my question to myself was: What have I done to show each person in my life that I’m thankful for his or her presence? So this year I’m making a Thanksgiving resolution. I don’t really know how to tell you how to do this — I’m no paragon of thankfulness — but I can tell you how I’m going to try.
Alderman Road Dorms Phase III and IV
Thanksgiving is so close I can almost smell my mom’s garlic mashed potatoes and gravy steaming on the stove. I just got so hungry I’m having trouble focusing now. I am seven days and one teeny tiny eight-page paper away from the feast of the year, snuggle time with my little sister and, of course, five glorious nights in my dreamy, spacious queen-sized bed. And if the withering, sleep-deprived students sulking around Grounds are any indication, you all are as ready as I am. But with the literal cornucopia of deliciousness and much-needed respite comes the stimulating family conversation we’re all — or should be — bracing ourselves for. Here are my top topics you should avoid at all costs to keep the peace around your turkey this year.