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(04/23/14 3:30pm)
I’ve taken on this insane habit lately of waking up at 7:30 in the morning. This is nothing of my own accord — at least not entirely. No alarm is set for this absurd time of day when the nocturnal collegiate normally slumbers, but lately I have found myself awoken by the sun. My primal instincts respond in full-force to the glory of springtime sun after a vitamin C deficiency persisting since November, when the longest winter to date began. And most shocking of all, when I roll over to stare that sunrise right in the face, I realize that — much to my chagrin — I actually feel ready to wake up.
(04/09/14 3:39pm)
I find myself picking up on the atmosphere we create more and more these days as I struggle to pull myself out of a strange whirlpool of stress. It’s a stress which churns incessantly in these Wahoo waters as a product of our culture of competition.
(03/26/14 6:32pm)
Every Saturday morning for all of autumn of 1999, with peepers in my eyes and a white cotton turtleneck under my jersey, I arrived at the elementary school gymnasium to run the wrong way down the carpeted court and touch the kiddie-sized basketball once all season. With a gusto that could be called respectable but not impressive, I supported my team with my shiny white Keds and my impeccable, parentally-enforced attendance record.
(03/05/14 4:50pm)
Somewhere, sometime, in the back corner of my brain, I made the promise to myself I was only ever going to drop the word “home” in reference to one place. There’s a white house with a gravel drive and quasi-green grass on a corner lot in Richmond. That dandelion speckled plot, my friends, is hallowed ground. That’s home.
(02/19/14 4:44pm)
There comes a point in every girl’s life when she realizes she is no longer current. For many women, this point comes when their children begin to pepper conversation with unfamiliar acronyms. For others, it comes when they realize they spout out certain phrases with the exact intonation as their mothers.
(01/22/14 11:46pm)
I am not normally one to call myself superstitious, but my reflections have been making me suspicious as I consider that 2013 was perhaps the crappiest — for lack of a more appropriate term — year of my life to date.
(11/20/13 9:46pm)
To quote our nation’s most revered nightrider (pun intended): “The turkeys are coming!”
(11/08/13 4:47am)
Ah yes, U.Va. — where we have our cake and eat it too. We work hard AND we play hard. Sleep is for the weary, which we are not. We are number one, my friends, just remember that.
(10/24/13 1:39pm)
Every morning, my mom swishes her slippers across the floor, wearing the flannel bathrobe that is half of a matching set, given to her and my father as a wedding gift. Today marks its 25th year of use. The sleeves are soft. They wrap up her petite figure as she pours her first of too many cups of coffee. Her cropped, wayward bedhead is endearing, as is her sleepy voice. Her soul is as soft as her outward morning appearance.
(10/09/13 7:20pm)
This time last year, I was in a complete first-year slump. I spent my first round of midterms treading in deep water, straining to keep my chin above the surface. The entire week before fall break I was in a constant state of countdown for my mom to come in her minivan chariot and save me from the overrated, overwhelming hellhole known as college.
(09/25/13 4:32pm)
I am completely guilty of being a first class offense people watcher. By this, I mean I unfortunately enjoy offering my quick two-cents to people I observe doing silly things.
(09/11/13 9:09pm)
8 a.m.: Paper, column, breakfast (maybe), coffee (definitely), research proposal, shower, stress.
(09/04/13 3:22am)
Being the inquisitive collegiate intellectual that I am, I often seek retrospection, reflection and procrastination via assorted online quizzes. Throughout this process of self-discovery I have learned such fruitful knowledge as my celebrity doppelganger, my projected lifespan and most recently, the personality I would most likely portray in the series “Gilmore Girls.” Needless to say, I’ve pretty much got myself all figured out now.
(08/28/13 10:59pm)
Waking up ready and alive is a skill I can’t seem to master. My morning routine includes:
(04/24/13 9:36pm)
Spring always evokes a bit of nostalgia for me. Be it the time of year for prom dresses, or the ever-intimidating mortarboards, the timeframe between March and May reinvigorates a sharp nostalgic twinge from within. This season seems to me a more powerful transitory period than New Years, especially considering how just about none of my self-promised ‘new beginnings’ of January 1 ever take root.
(04/12/13 1:17am)
A host of block parties, bands and speakers will sweep the Downtown Mall this weekend as part of the second annual Tom Tom Founders Festival.
(04/11/13 11:26pm)
It’s a shame that clichés are, well, exactly that. Trite mantras that become diluted with overuse and come to be associated with finger-wagging mothers. That might actually only be a personal association — growing up in my household trained my Jiminy-Cricket-conscience to cluck, “two wrongs don’t make a right” and “a bird in hand’s worth two in the bush” in a sweet Dixie twang — but I digress.
(03/30/13 1:24am)
Sometimes I wonder if the world spins merely due to human energy. Are just we a bunch of Forrest Gumps, just running and running to generate rotation? Is that the answer to it all?
(03/07/13 10:07pm)
Sleep upstages food, water and shelter among my primal needs. This business of calling 2 a.m. an “early bedtime” is absurd. I aim to land in my bed somewhere between 11 p.m. and midnight — and by 11 I actually mean 10:15 p.m.
(02/22/13 1:50am)
The strongest guidance I ever received came to me at the ripe age of 11 in a VHS recording of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” While my initial appreciation for this cinematic tour de force was the result of the ingenious and humorous scheming of the male lead, I later recognized that when it comes to defining a successful life, even the ideals of Confucius appear insignificant next to the world according to Ferris.