I’m 2,500 miles away from my family, yet I feel so at home.
I actually consider myself to be a book hoarder — I’ve never given away a book I’ve received, and my 20-year-strong collection is scattered throughout the places I’ve lived in the past.
Instead of trying to do and be better, I’ve decided to do less.
I start bullet journals without ever finishing them.
Economic depletion stifles the mobility of families caught in the cycle of Appalachian poverty. Confederate flags hang from the front porches of houses and private businesses that we drive past.
When it comes to my relationship, I am a bit territorial.
We tend to place more value in our natural talents because we dislike failing, but it’s rare to succeed when trying something new for the first time.
I’ve dabbled in the podcast world casually, but none of the murder mysteries, history lessons or politically relevant musings have ever held my attention for more than a couple installments.
If you wrote this season as a movie, Hollywood executives would dump the script in the garbage. It’s too perfect. The redemption arc is too clean.
Even though sometimes I like to revel in my sappy nostalgia and eat a sleeve of Oreos, underneath that I’m still OK with it.
For all you sports fans out there, I present to you my breakdown of U.Va. basketball from someone who has never watched a U.Va. basketball game.
Although we spent hours designing our common space, our best piece is tucked away in the back hallway where almost no one sees it.
I had yet to take my own unique “requirement” — the class I have promised my dad I would take for the past three years — Intro to Acting.
Ask anyone who has traveled by plane if they have a crazy airport story, and I’m willing to bet money that they do.
Ruben, if you’re out there, thank you for reminding me the importance of taking the scenic route, the beauty of a genuine laugh.
More often than not, gossip posts rub me the wrong way — particularly because they do not present women in the most flattering and fair light.
When you need it most, look for the neon green, and a scooter will be there waiting for you.
I’m sure for every person who stops and listens to my music, there are another two walking by who have to push in their headphones to be able to hear Drake over me — but that’s okay.
We all know that one barista — the one that makes coffee like it’s an art form – the one that sticks in your brain as you exit the cafe, latte in hand, wondering who exactly they are and what makes them tick.
Whether you and your friends just couldn’t decide between Cancun or the Bahamas or you spent too much money on Roots this year to scrape together enough travel funds, you’ve decided to go home — there’s no shame in that!
