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(04/26/16 12:15am)
I feel compelled to spill out everything I’ve ever wanted to say in this column, seeing as it’s my very last one. For all I know, this might be the last time anyone ever reads my writing without my having to beg them. But at the same time, I know I can’t just turn my brain upside down and empty out all of its contents — in part because of word constraints, and in part because the fullest depths of my thoughts are still abysmally unexplored.
(04/11/16 10:33pm)
Something bizarre happened to me the other day: I received personalized career advice from not one, but two of my instructors. For the first time in my four years of studying here, I felt like my strengths had been wholly and thoughtfully validated.
(03/29/16 3:29am)
Many of my distant first-year memories revolve around dining halls, from darting into Runk after hours with my suitemates in our pajamas for some midnight French fries to meeting swarms of people, most of whom I never ended up seeing again, over lunch at the now-defunct N2. I can’t forget the simultaneous power and frustration I felt over my stockpiles of Plus Dollars, resulting in a continual catch-22 of needing to get rid of them but not wanting to consume the extra gummy worms, dumplings or Ben & Jerry’s as a consequence. Though I liked the freedom and convenience of having a meal plan, my health — unbeknownst to me — suffered for it.
(03/14/16 11:55pm)
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. I only feel bad that the richness of my experience can’t easily be conveyed through a 30 second pitch on how my spring break went. I don’t want to feel pitied for having consciously chosen to lay low and recharge rather than cruise to a beach or volunteer abroad.
(02/23/16 12:08am)
The end of my senior year of high school did not cure me of my senioritis. Nor did the start of college. If anything, my years at U.Va. only exacerbated my predicament by constantly reminding me of my extraordinary averageness.
(02/09/16 12:30am)
I decided to enroll in a swimming class this semester because it seemed like the optimal alternative to more torturous forms of cardiovascular exercise — particularly running. I swam often as a kid and I’d gotten to be pretty good at it too, but over the years my aversion to physical activity (and my intense fear of waterborne illnesses) pushed me out of the pool long enough to nullify all my previously mastered skills.
(11/24/15 1:34am)
At the ends of the emails she sends students in response to tragedy, University President Teresa Sullivan typically emphasizes how we must “come together as a community.” Though this advice seems appropriate in theory, in practice it is difficult for people to cultivate an environment in which they share complex emotions without fear of judgment or imposition. It is easy to engage in social activities that circumvent the pain of tragedy, but it is not so easy to collectively confront this pain with informal dialogue.
(11/20/15 1:47am)
For many reasons, I am not comfortable with the idea that reducing the stigma behind mental health starts with equating mental illness with physical illness.
(10/13/15 4:17am)
From time to time, I come across days laden in abnormal circumstances.
(09/29/15 12:46am)
My adolescent years were steeped in feelings of resentfulness towards 6 a.m. wakeup calls.
(09/14/15 11:44pm)
I came to college with the firm belief that friendships are only worth growing if they have the potential to become exceptionally tight-knit. As judgmental and naïve as it sounds, I would shy away from people who rubbed me the wrong way during our first interactions. Personalities ranging from overwhelmingly exuberant to uncomfortably politene alienated me. Essentially, if I didn’t instantly click with someone, I would rule out the possibility of us ever establishing a worthwhile connection.
(08/31/15 8:42pm)
A graveyard of retired planners sits in the drawer of my bedroom nightstand. It boasts all types, ranging from the generic, spiral-bound variety plastered in leopard-print duct tape to the cream-colored pages of a limited-edition Moleskine. With some time to kill over the last weeks of summer, I took a few minutes to flip through some of them.
(04/27/15 10:55pm)
As my third year at the University draws to a close, I feel understand more than ever how absurd it is to expect teenagers to have decided on their desired career path before high school graduation.
(04/14/15 12:31am)
As an Asian-American, I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be followed around by store employees, have my intelligence underestimated or be unjustly attacked by law enforcement officers because of my skin color. But through research and attention, I have learned how to empathize with friends and classmates who face these kinds of problems on a regular basis. As a result, I’m fairly confident in asserting I have an informed understanding of the right and wrong ways to talk about race.
(03/30/15 8:34pm)
After years of being immersed in this seemingly bottomless pool of awe-inspiring brilliance that is the University, I've developed a tendency to romanticize strangers whom I find fascinating.
(03/17/15 2:53am)
I’d always thought that the truest sign of intellect was to understand references to renowned films or pieces of literature — to be able to bask in the glory of saying “I’ve seen that” or “I’ve read that” when faced with a literary allusion. After watching “Birdman” over spring break, I was convinced I’d finally reached this point of peak scholarship.
(02/23/15 11:40pm)
As much as I’ve matured since beginning my journey at the University — especially in recognizing my own worth — I still struggle to forgive myself for the times I’ve hopelessly failed.
(02/09/15 10:29pm)
While many are panicking over the unforgivable sacrilege of being single on Valentine’s Day, I am panicking over turning 21 shortly thereafter. Luckily for me, my lack of self-awareness renders me incapable of perceiving my nonexistent significant other as a problem — which makes sense, considering I generally feel like a small child trapped in a young adult’s body.
(01/26/15 11:53pm)
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever received from a professor consisted of just three words: “always ask why.”
(01/13/15 2:25am)
I’ve come to associate the start of spring semester with the onset of chronic lethargy. Winter Break works its best at licking the wounds of fall semester, but four weeks of traveling or binge-watching never seem long enough to extinguish postpartum final exam malaise.