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(10/22/18 2:11am)
An important part of moving away from home for me was embarrassingly realizing how many things I do not know about something as simple as living in an apartment. We all come to the University to learn, but that idea typically bears the image of sitting in a classroom, squinting at illegible scribbled words on the blackboard and red corrective marks on returned essays and exams. Outside of the classroom, however, learning rarely looks like this.
(09/11/18 10:33pm)
Sunday 6:30 a.m., the blue dawn hovered like a whisper over Charlottesville. The city looked blurry through my unfocused, sleepy eyes, as if someone had smudged my vision across my pupils. As I think back to that morning, I don’t remember much of it. There were shadowed buildings and a snoring train below the bridge that was humming Charlottesville out of its slumber, a few morning joggers huffing their way up the hill and some dogs walking around with tired tails.
(08/30/18 2:12am)
I fall in love with places far too easily — it’s a weakness of mine. When people start dating, their imaginations run into ideas of what their wedding, family and lives would be like together. When students graduate college, they begin to see visions of where they want to work and what they want their careers to be. When I visit a new city, I piece together scraps of my observations and create a mirage of a life I want to live.
(05/31/18 2:01am)
There is an old saying in some book somewhere that we always want what we do not have. It has been regarded as a known fact in my childhood household, my mother shouting it at me whenever she walked in on me standing in front of the bathroom mirror incessantly running my fingers through my knotted, curly hair in a vain attempt to straighten it. It’s what I would silently think to myself when all of my shorter friends tell me about how they wish they were taller and when all of my taller friends talk about wanting to be shorter. It’s what I think whenever people begin a sentence with “If only” and end it with a dreamy sigh as they imagine what their altered and improved lives would be like in another world.
(03/21/18 6:58am)
One afternoon during my Women and Gender Studies class, we were instructed to go around the room stating our names and what we were passionate about. Many people said they were passionate about traveling, others said basketball, but few said anything even remotely related to their majors. The girl sitting next to me turned to me and asked, “I’m a fourth year, but am I supposed to know what I’m passionate about?”
(02/19/18 5:45am)
To think back to my first few weeks on Grounds is to remember it in a very different way than I see it now. I still have the scribbles in my planner from first semester that identified Bryan Hall as “the building behind the walkway with columns” and Maury Hall as “behind Bryan overlooking the stairs.” My days rigidly consisted of walking from class to class to the dining hall and back to my dorm. A while after I got the hang of my schedule, I started venturing out to the Corner and farther away to the Downtown Mall. However, my evolving vision of the University was not only due to my expanding horizons.
(02/12/18 5:19am)
The buckles of my black combat boots clink against each other as I trudge up the incline towards Clark. A couple of tall men whose faces are masked in the shade of their baseball caps are heavily immersed in a conversation as they march in a horizontal defense line towards me — edging me off the sidewalk and into the street. I step down from the umber red bricks onto the grey concrete and circle around them.
(01/22/18 5:39am)
Home is a fickle thing. The thought of it conjures a web of different ideas in everyone’s minds, anywhere from the smell of their favorite home-cooked meal to dinner table arguments with their family. Retro postcards warp the idea of home into an image of a brightly-painted kitchen with a woman sporting an updo, apron and heels as she slides a pot roast out of the oven or a man with his hair gelled back, briefcase in his right hand and doorknob in his left, walking into his house, shouting, “Honey, I’m home” — the couple’s pearly white smiles twinkling underneath the thin veneer of preserving gloss.
(11/20/17 5:08am)
It was 8:05 p.m. Sunday when I found myself staring at shelves of neatly stacked instant Kraft Easy Mac Triple Cheese, Cheddar Broccoli Rice-a-Roni and spicy Mongolian noodle bowls by Simply Asia at Crossroads. With a grumbling stomach, I grudgingly grabbed the macaroni and cheese cup and a chocolate-chip granola bar on my way to the cash register.
(11/07/17 4:22am)
It’s finally November, which means pulling out your dusty monochrome sweaters from underneath your bed, admiring the leaves sprinkling down from thin tree limbs as you walk to class and, of course, seeing your family during Family Weekend. Except, what if you’re one of the seemingly few who didn’t have the chance to see their family?
(10/25/17 3:43am)
As I sit on the dewy grass of Klöckner Stadium, watching the women’s soccer game, my eyes wander to the groups of kids lining the fence. A group of young girls twists their frizzy hair around the tips of their fingers as they whisper in each other’s ears, and groups of young boys run up the hill and throw themselves down the face of it, tumbling into the fence.
(10/10/17 2:43am)
I sat down to my second game of Scrabble at the Senior Center. My eyes were drawn to the word “BALLER” running down the middle of the board. I looked from person to person and speculated about who was the hippest grandparent at the table.
(09/24/17 7:53pm)
Coming to the University as a native New Yorker, I was expecting to be hurled into a culture shock. Ever since I accepted my offer, Virginia seemed like a distant, mystical land that — instead of growing clearer as the move-in date quickly approached — grew foggier and more muddled in my mind.