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(02/24/16 1:57am)
Last week I left a meeting with the professor in charge of my psychology lab with a piece of really good news: she was submitting a request for permission from the International Review Board to begin a study I helped design. I was overwhelmed with excitement — it was the kind of moment I wanted to share with someone immediately. However, the strangers passing by Garrett Hall at 4 p.m. weren’t exactly the people I had in mind. So I called my mom.
(02/10/16 1:41am)
Last week, I spent a thrilling Saturday night making a LinkedIn profile under the guidance of a friend of mine who has maintained an “Expert Level” profile since high school. My mother, who begged me to make a profile for most of this academic year, was thrilled when I told her I finally caved. But long after I added my last credential to the page, I was left feeling confused.
(01/27/16 3:38am)
Over winter break I caught up with a friend from home over a cup of strong diner coffee and towering stack of French toast. She and I had been close during high school, and made a solid effort during our first years to keep each other in the loop through constant streams of text messages and FaceTime dates. However, in the whirlwind that was the beginning of my second year, our communication dwindled.
(11/10/15 1:08am)
My parents met during their first year of college. They weren’t students at the same university — my father went to school in New Hampshire, and my mother attended an all girls’ school a few hours away in Massachusetts. My dad tagged along with a fraternity brother who was dating a friend of my mother’s, and let her steal sips from the strawberry daiquiris he bought all night because she mentioned she liked them and was still too young to order them for herself.
(10/27/15 5:48am)
An impromptu trip home to New Jersey last weekend found me seated comfortably in my living room with two friends, flames roaring in the fireplace and all our eyes glued to various screens. It was one my friends who first pointed it out: I was on my laptop studying for an exam, our other friend was texting her boyfriend to make plans for Saturday night and she herself was searching for an online article she wanted to show us. She lamented our reliance on technology, and blamed our divided attention for the “half-conversations” we were having with each other. I sheepishly closed my laptop, and my friend tucked her phone into her pocket.
(10/13/15 12:56am)
Despite the explicit warning my psychology professor gave at the beginning of the year, I found myself sitting in class the other day with the overwhelming feeling his presentation was a personal diagnosis. As he described ruminative coping styles — a tendency, found most frequently in women, to constantly and chronically over-think causes or consequences of psychological distress — I was struck by how familiar the mechanism sounded.
(09/29/15 1:24am)
Growing up, it was almost impossible for me to sit through Sunday services at St. Luke’s Church without some kind of distraction. I loved the children’s bulletins that the Altar Guild provided, which featured Christian crossword puzzles or little mazes in which I could track Jesus’ route to his lost sheep at the other end. My sister and I devised a secret code when we were a bit older, which entailed underlining letters in our hymnals to spell out messages for each other.
(09/14/15 11:24pm)
Every morning on my way to class I pass by Acme Tattoo and Piercing on the Corner, and almost every morning, that little voice in the back of my head tells me to go in and get one. It doesn’t seem to matter what time of day, who I’m with or if I’m in the middle of a conversation — something in my subconscious tells me I should go in and get inked.
(08/31/15 8:56pm)
For as long as I can remember, I’ve told myself everything happens for a reason. I don’t get that internship I wanted, the guy who asked for my number at the bar doesn’t use it, I never get off the waitlist for a class I might be interested in — it all must not have been meant to be.
(04/27/15 10:04pm)
“It’s been a challenging semester.” That was my answer whenever anyone asked me how school was going during fall semester. I didn’t want to talk about them — the tragedies that plagued our Grounds and the scandals that rocked our community. I didn’t want to discuss things I didn’t like about the University, but I felt just as uncomfortable attempting to emphasize the semester’s high points in the face of so much pain. It was simply easier to not go into it.
(04/14/15 12:30am)
During a recent phone call, one of my old friends mentioned his pledge brothers had taken to calling him by his initials. Despite his fondness for his new title, I informed him I would not, under any circumstance, refer to him as anything other than the name I had called him for the last 15 years we’ve known each other.
(03/31/15 4:03am)
A few days ago, I knocked on my friend’s door in the middle of the afternoon to use her printer. She answered wearing a shiny silver morph suit, complete with a hood and tight elastic around the hole where her face fit.
(03/17/15 2:55am)
I average four to five cups of coffee a day. I drink it with almost every meal, and I can usually be found in line at Starbucks — or Greenberry’s, if I’m really pressed for time — at least once a day. And it’s all on account of the fact that brewing a cup of coffee takes up less time than getting a normal amount of sleep does. It’s a trend that’s been influencing my behavior considerably recently — I’ll do anything for a bit of free time.
(02/24/15 12:27am)
I am proud to announce since my arrival on Grounds, I’ve become bilingual. And while I would never want to detract from the strength of the language program here at the University, I feel like I should clarify that this development has nothing to do with my enrollment in Accelerated Introductory French this semester.
(02/09/15 10:26pm)
Valentine’s Day in elementary school is blissfully simple. You spend one afternoon covering a shoebox you brought from home with lopsided red and pink construction paper hearts, then circle around the classroom stuffing one Peanut’s themed slip of paper — with a Hershey’s Kiss taped to the bottom if your mom was feeling really generous — into each classmate’s box, no questions asked.
(01/27/15 4:26am)
I don’t read for pleasure nearly as much as I should. Last semester, most of my time was spent leafing through textbooks, course packets or required classics, so I could argue that I simply didn’t have the time. But if I’m being perfectly honest, the reason I stopped reading is because it wasn’t providing the escape I craved anymore. All the contemporary fiction I read detailed one trauma after another. Even worse, they all seemed to be based on true stories.
(01/13/15 2:20am)
I began 2015 with neither a New Year’s resolution nor a way back to school.
(11/25/14 6:43am)
I have lived my life nurtured by a variety of incredibly tight-knit communities.
(11/11/14 3:19am)
While I did not enjoy much about the college road trips which peppered the last two years of my high school experience, at least I was sure of one thing: every time I folded myself into the back seat of my parent’s car and took off toward another campus tour, I would be return with a new item of college paraphernalia.
(10/28/14 2:12am)
A few nights ago, as my Cav Advantage card was denied for the third time and my brights bled into each other in the dryer, I finally admitted to myself that before arriving on Grounds, I had highly romanticized the college laundry room.