The contents of my mailbox tend to be immediately discarded. I don’t read the flyers or the announcements that often have nothing to do with me.
A few nights ago, as my CavAdvantage 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 dreadfully romanticized the college laundry room.
In my college journey thus far, I’ve learned that we tend to think of things in the moment rather than view the master plan. We think one bad grade is the end of the world, or if we’re unhappy where we are, we can’t change it.
The women of Nyakitabire, Uganda share secrets between swirls of smoke.
When I studied abroad this summer, I experienced a six-week period when sleep was my last priority.
Forget D-Day. Forget July fourth. Forget Valentine’s Day. The most epic day in history comes upon us in t-minus 10 days. Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls: my 21st birthday is nearly here.
I’ve said “boys suck” more times than I can count. Whether trying to ease the situation of a friend or making myself feel better, sighing and moaning the phrase always seems to do the trick.
Thus, all things considered, are those who fear romantic commitment really to be blamed for their apprehension? Or are we just reacting naturally to the objectively daunting circumstances monogamy presents?
I noticed so many little things in that short walk that I probably would have ignored on any other day. Most of the time when I walk home I try to multitask, reading emails, responding to texts or checking Facebook as I dodge the people walking by me. But by taking the time to look around and listen to the things happening beside me I was able to remember how many beautiful things there are going on at any given moment.
Over fall break, I, like many of my classmates, took to my favorite relaxing activities in the comfort of my own home.
Sometimes a deep anthropological idea will hit me in the most unlikely places. Is “deep anthropological idea” a huge exaggeration?
Few people acknowledge the lethal potential of ice cubes.
I was walking past the dumpling cart, freaking out about housing next year and how people sign leases fresh out of the womb, when I overheard a genius man ask a genius question: why isn’t there a burrito cart?Imagine, the joy of lining up in front of the almighty burrito truck, reveling in the glory that is a shiny, metal box.
“Oh, my gosh! We need to have a sleepover!”The dreaded suggestion elicited an inward cry of despair as everyone nodded in agreement.
I woke up on a beach in Haifa, Israel to the mildest lifeguard rebuke I’d ever heard.
A few weeks ago, I was once more meandering through the depths of Buzzfeed when I happened upon a quiz entitled “What’s the Sexiest Thing About You?” Given that Victoria’s Secret sponsored this quiz, I had my hesitations about clicking the thumbnail link.I am nowhere remotely close to a Victoria’s Secret model.
From infancy, I was raised as a Cardinals fan. The early days of baseball were uncomplicated. The Baltimore Orioles were the closest team in proximity ? the only team for which it was actually possible to attend games ? but I was an exclusive Cardinals devotee, as St.
Earlier today, I was listening to my 90’s playlist on Spotify – no shame.
It’s 5 a.m. and a man as wide as he is tall is yelling Spanish curses in my ear. I’m tired, sore, soaked to the bone and more than anything else humiliated by the fact that I apparently have no idea how to use a lawn mower.
What I wouldn’t do for a good Danish ? an incredible marriage of butter, sugar, yeast, eggs and cheese.
