You remember Wizard’s Chess. It was the game of strategy and wits that Harry and Ron played in lieu of getting high off of pure veritaserum extract with the other kids in the potions basement. What I propose to you, dear reader, is that each of us is playing a game of Wizard’s Chess against the powerful winds of nature and fate.
If your understanding of science is limited to what information the web has to provide on the formation of geodes (gas bubbles within volcanic rocks are filled over time with dissolved minerals, a process which can take thousands or even millions of years) then you’re going to have to find another way to sound smart.
If you’re feeling really ambitious, use your laptop to impress the people sitting behind you. Fill out a prestigious online internship application. Browse the international section of Le Monde and pretend to read about Egypt in French. Look at pictures of dogs. Use virtual gardening software to design your own vegetable garden.
Some people say love of fighting isn’t real, that it’s just a chemical reaction in the brain to ensure the continuation of our species. The scientific explanation for something doesn’t make it any less beautiful. When I look at this boy’s face, I think God himself designed it for me to hit it with a two-by-four.
To surreptitiously gain access to a Lawn room, some manuals may instruct you to make a wax copy of the key you purloined from the resident’s robe as they showered. Others say to send them on a quest for an example of student self-governance, or something equally fictional.
With each mindful sip you will experience waves of inner peace and tranquility wash over your body and essence, cleansing your scattered thoughts and leaving you feeling confident and beautiful. Experience breathtaking vistas of universal emptiness, with luminous visions of webs of Buddhas extending from complex cosmological visions of purelands and galaxies, to inner Buddha natures within life.
And it’s fine to be sad on Valentine’s Day. If you joke that you’re just gonna eat pizza and chocolate and watch Netflix, then absolutely do those things. That sounds awesome. Who wants some dude poking you with his boner halfway through “The Pelican Brief?” Not me. Take a night off.
The text, which came from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous, left me with two questions. Number one: why the hell would anyone care enough about what I had to say to write another article about it on this gay news website?
I’ll be spending the day as I always do — hiding in the corner of an upscale French restaurant and slipping engagement rings into champagne glasses for my research project.
The number of unread emails was embarrassing. But at that point it was beyond my control. They just kept coming. There was no way out.
Walking into the AT&T store felt like every time I’ve ever drank beer: everyone else is doing it, and even though it tastes bitter, at least people will stop trying to chide you into accepting their well-meaning but hopelessly misplaced offers.
Being in a gift shop called “REALLY SCOTTISH!” is slightly more embarrassing than being in the giftshop for The Museum of Sex.
That’s right kids, I am clean and sober, on the wagon, and going to AA. No more stumbling outside of parties, throwing up and returning with the excuse that I was “praying.”
It’s 4 a.m. and your eyes hurt. Your hands look like fleshy spiders full of tiny bones. Hands are so weird.
Shout out to geodes. If someone were carrying rock and were okay with the rock but then they dropped the rock and it turned out to be a geode on the inside, there is no way that they would not be pumped about that turn of events.
So, finals. I won’t get into stress management because I’ve already written a column about that, and as anyone who has seen my famous eye twitch can assure you, my tips were all incredibly effective. Instead, I thought you could all use a little more specific advice on what you may expect in your final exams, by subject.
Apart her proclivity to have friends over when I want to make ugly sob noises, my roommate is pretty ideal.
“My Wednesdays are basically a wash ‘cause I have to go out Tuesdays in order to handle all this stress,” fourth-year psychology major Ryan Molhauen pointed out. “And don’t even get me started on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays,” he added. “ I can’t get anything done four out of the seven days of the week because I have so much stress. Something is wrong here.”
19 things only true 90s kids will understand…
