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(04/30/18 5:23am)
It was Saturday evening, and I was buried in the stacks of Alderman Library. I wasn’t looking for a book; to be honest, I’ve never actually checked a book out of the library. Instead, I was hunched over a study carrel — pouring my heart and soul into a research paper on the inequities of deaf education. I had planned to stay in that little crevice of Alderman until the library closed, but my stomach was aching for food. So, against my better judgment, I abandoned the carrel and left my paper unfinished. That left a disappointed pit in my stomach, sure, but it was nothing compared to the actual aching I’d feel seconds later when I fell down the stairs at Alderman Library.
(04/17/18 5:10am)
Picture this — it’s springtime and a typical Thursday afternoon, if you will. There’s a light breeze in the air that tickles your cheeks and the sun’s beams soak into your skin for the first time in months. Through your $10 pair of earbuds, your favorite playlist is playing, and for just a moment, everything is right with the world. Now, imagine that there is an urgent tap on your shoulder. It is so unexpected that you jump out of your skin, dramatically and embarrassingly. But the worst part is when we remove our earphones, and a classmate utters, “What are you so annoyed about?”
(04/03/18 5:15am)
A little over two miles from our University, tucked away in the far-reaches of Charlottesville, stands a warehouse. It’s massive and home to an array of products. Those hefty shelves are stocked with countless different kinds of bread, three-packs of lint-rollers and a field of free-for-all food samples. Yep, I’m talking about Costco.
(03/19/18 3:44am)
For as long as I can remember, my father has worn a Yankees cap — around the house, during bouts of yard work, whenever he’s out-and-about in the real world. Wherever he goes, the baseball cap goes too. It’s a strange dynamic, but that baseball cap is inarguably an extension of his identity. The real kicker? My father has never once watched a baseball game. He doesn’t know any statistics and doesn’t keep up with any players. Football? Sure. Hockey? Constantly. Baseball? Never.
(03/05/18 3:54am)
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about psycholinguistics.
(02/19/18 2:34am)
Our lives are hard — at least, right now, our lives are hard. It’s hard to be a student nowadays, especially at the University. It’s hard to juggle 15-plus credits at a time, along with social events and personal emergencies and extracurricular obligations. We’ve got a lot on our plate — late nights, non-stop days, etc. We’ve all been in the position of having 48 hours to complete 80 pages of reading, a response paper, prepare a short presentation and even study for that exam we knew was coming. I definitely am not in the business of pity; in fact, college students deserve no pity. After all, we have the great opportunity to attend college — the University, no less — and receive a degree. We have the opportunity and privilege to lead a busy, rollercoaster-esque kind of life right now.
(02/05/18 4:49am)
As a third-year transfer student, I have never been in a class with more than 50 people. The small school I attended before the University didn’t have “big lectures” and classes in the Curry School tend to run on the smaller side. In fact, any class with over 40 students was rare and seemed intimidating. How was I supposed to stand out to my professor? How was I supposed meet my fellow classmates? How were we supposed to collaborate or have discussions? As I soon found out, the most generalized answer to all of those questions were … you don’t.
(01/22/18 5:40am)
The beginning of another semester can be hard to swallow. Not only does it mark the beginning of classes, but also all those consequential realities that go along with them — stress, sleep deprivation, long days and long lists of seemingly endless assignments. For me, at least, the first week of classes is always met with a kind of denial where I can’t help but avoid all things homework. Let me tell you, that charade lasts about five seconds before I become encompassed in assigned readings and response papers. I’m not complaining — after all, I’m a student of higher education and it comes with the territory. I’m only making an observation — albeit, an obvious one — that the first few days of a new semester are rocky.
(01/12/18 3:03am)
For someone that has spent nearly 90 percent of her life walking upright, I have yet to truly master the skill. For whatever reason, my coordination and agility has always been lacking — this means that I am incredibly injury prone. Part of me likes to argue, “Well, who isn’t prone to the occasional, physical blunder?” But I far-surpass “occasional.” The word “frequent” is much more accurate.
(12/20/17 5:12am)
Here at the University, I go by many names. While professors and faculty refer to me as a strict and arguably-foreign “Madeline,” those who see me as a friend know me as a short, simple and sweet “Maddie.” Throughout my life, I have noticed this strange balance between my alternate titles and how it seems to be the one reliable constant that influences my day-to-day life.
(12/05/17 5:03am)
As a young person in the year 2017, this confession may sound bizarre — but I have never been good with technology. I still have yet to learn how to connect my phone to Cavalier wifi, downloading any form of software or computer program is a constant struggle, and — in all seriousness — I once saved a Word document to an unrecoverable, non-existent corner of my crowded desktop, never to be seen again. I have never understood the deep and confounding intricacies of technology, but it is certainly an untapped resource for students.
(10/24/17 3:24am)
“Maddie, we can hear some kind of animal in our AC unit. Can you come here?”
(09/24/17 7:53pm)
At the last few strides of my mile-and-a-half journey home, I felt something damp against the back of my left thigh — my backpack. Initially, I was struck with raw confusion — it wasn’t raining outside, that was for certain, and the material of my backpack was supposedly waterproof. The realization hit me like a bucket of frigid water, leaving me stunned, horrified and incapable of rational thought.
(09/11/17 2:41am)
All my life, I have been the quiet girl that stands at the side of a crowded room. All my life, I have been the awkward girl who doesn’t know what to say or how to say it or when to say it. It doesn't matter if the setting is a lecture hall or a pounding pre-game — it’s just the kind of person that I am. In any new social situation, my voice always wavers — slightly, an unnoticeable amount if you weren’t looking for it, but it’s a blaring flag for me. It’s a reminder that I am and always will be an introvert.
(08/28/17 3:16am)
As I write this, I sit in the passenger seat of my father’s 11-year-old Honda Accord. My feet are propped up, resting on the dashboard, and my computer is resting on my lap — Wi-Fi-less, to my despair. My father is flipping through the radio channels, bored, and checking Waze every few minutes for an update on the road conditions. I should be bored too — after all, I’ve done this drive countless times. It should be bland at this point, but it’s not. My attention seems to naturally drift towards the Virginian countryside — the yellow cornfields, the rolling hills speckled with livestock, the bluish mountains in the distance. It is a beautiful drive.
(06/09/17 3:38am)
With a green apron wrapped around my waist and a pitcher of steamed soy milk in my hand, I glance above my store’s espresso machine and at the endless line of people. All customers. All in line for a latte or iced tea or some wildly mutated version of an otherwise common coffeehouse drink. As I look, there’s a lot to take in — the businesswoman with impatient eyes, the couple on a casual coffee date, the child that keeps pointing at our selection of cake pops. All this, however, and the one thing that stands out to me is the quiet 60-or-so-year-old in the back of the line. What about him caught my eye? His ragged baseball cap. Printed across the front was our Cavalier logo.
(05/03/17 2:31am)
We did it, Wahoos. We made it. Our academic year is nearing the end, and we have overcome the many ups-and-downs of this semester. Sure, the nightmare that is finals has only just begun, but that imminent stress should not detract from our biannual accomplishment. After all, we worked extraordinarily hard. That is something that should be celebrated. Now, don’t get me wrong — wait two weeks or so before that celebration! Finish finals and tie all those wayward loose ends into a neat bow.
(04/18/17 5:25am)
Recently, I’ve become obsessed with Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “Hamilton” soundtrack. That’s not a very cool thing to confess — I know — but it’s true nonetheless. I’ve listened through the entire soundtrack, all at once, more times than I can count. There are a lot of songs in the musical — enough that the songs don’t get old and there’s a song to match my many moods. For someone that listens to a lot of music and has a tendency to overplay, this collection of 56 songs really hits home.
(04/05/17 4:09am)
It’s that time of the semester again. Lou’s List is updated. Advisors have sent out emails for advising session sign-ups. We’re six short weeks until the end. Naturally, rather than being focused on our current classes, our attention shifts to classes we aren’t even in! Semi-ironic, huh? Personally, this is one of the most stressful times during the semester; not only does it remind me of the impending future, but one oversight and I’m off-track to graduate.
(03/22/17 5:50am)
I have no great fondness for the cold. I don’t like when the air pricks my nose. I don’t like when my toes start to numb inside my shoes. I don’t like when my fingers turn bright red, even if they are tucked inside the folds of my pockets. Being from upstate New York, this aversion is ironic and a bit ill-placed, but still there. Now — there is one exception to this otherwise rock-hard philosophy: snow.