While college is full of ups and downs, our community has experienced the worst down — eternal goodbye — far too often this past year.
When I first arrived at the University, I was immediately struck by the hyper-involvement of my peers.
I am thankful the lights are incredibly dim in Boylan; the darkness hides my crimson-flushed face after I was royally called out for being a know-it-all. I was catching up with friends on my first night back at the University, when the conversation turned to the Barnes Art Collection in Philadelphia and a class my friend took on Dutch Masters.
This past week was tough for old and new sorority members alike. Whether you were one of the 1,000 girls going through recruitment or one of the 2,000 on the other side, you are undoubtedly exhausted and emotionally drained.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a Hollywood film director. My adventures in show business began at age nine, when my sister and I used a handheld camera to recreate the greatest movie we had ever seen.
Many people oversleep, but few pursue it with any real thought. I’ve decided that oversleeping is like war; the sleeping self must conquer the alarm clock.
Rush is weird. Having gone through recruitment four times now—once as a “rushee” and three times as a sorority woman—I can knowingly say it does not get much better. Each year, I approached the process differently.
I had never known exactly what Boxing Day was until my Canadian cousin explained it to me during winter break—it’s a holiday of mostly historical value, observed in celebrating countries by closing nearly all businesses and banks.We in the States, however, typically do just the opposite this time of year—come December 26, malls become just about as crowded as they were barely a month ago, on the infamous Black Friday. On the morning after Christmas, Americans tend to pivot and head back to the mall to exchange the gifts we received for what we really wanted.
Coming back from winter break, I got in to Charlottesville around 2 p.m. I only had one errand to run that day and, naturally, I didn’t get around to it until 9 p.m.
“College has changed you,” my friend said with disgust. Upon hearing these words, I was immediately ashamed.
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 the remnants of postpartum final exam malaise.
I began 2015 with neither a New Year’s resolution, nor a way back to school.
The top 10 things you missed about Charlottesvile while you were home for Winter Break.
In Stephen King’s memoir On Writing, King compares the process of crafting long works of fiction to “crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub.” Easy for him to say, considering his bathtub is equipped with a high-performance engine.
With the release of Taylor Swift’s most recent album, most of my free time not spent writing essays has been devoted to watching her music videos on repeat until the wee hours of the morning.
I spent most of my senior year burdened by the weight of making the “right” college choice — as if there was one gilded school that ensured me four blissful years of happiness.
Anyone who’s kept up with my columns this semester will have detected two general themes: etymology and shopping.
I confess: I am 20 years old and my favorite part of the weekend is going to church on Sunday mornings.
It was a frigid Friday night and Littlejohn’s was the only thing on my mind between 2 and 3 a.m.
While this semester has been a trying one—one that has made me question many things—I am leaving it behind with a real appreciation for the fortitude of our student body. We are not passive. We are all connected by a desire to make a difference, to do what is right and to support our fellow Hoos.
