In many ways I am a typical University student. I have always overscheduled myself, and just when I think I am at my limit, I add something else to my plate and manage to make it work. Last semester, though, I believe I finally hit the ceiling for the amount of things I was able to do.
Under my bed in Balz-Dobie is a small shoebox filled to capacity with notes, photographs and nostalgia.
As the impending semester loomed over my last few days of winter break, I found myself in a most uncommon predicament: evading the romantic proposition of a man at 10 p.m.
A beacon of renewal and rededication for many, New Years will always hold a special place in my heart as my least favorite pseudo-holiday.
Rest in peace, small forest. If only I could reverse the papermaking process. I could probably restore anywhere from 30 to 75 trees from the printed mementos in my childhood room alone.
A holiday letter to my future friends and frenemies.
Well folks, it’s that time of year again: “Juan-uary” is upon us. Yes, ABC’s “The Bachelor” is back, and this season promises drama, heartbreak and many more entertaining, excessive dates.
When it came to preparing for my semester abroad which will be occurring this spring, there seemed to be 300 steps before any of it began to make sense or seem real.
The entire concept of being a “slut” is trivial and outdated. Dating back to roughly 15th century English, the grotesque term has made its way from ink on a scroll of parchment to the 140 characters Twitter permits us to use as we seek to dazzle our friends and family with our insight and wit. And, unfortunately, the whole “slut” thing is still plaguing society in the very same ways it always has.
Sure, there’s something to be said about a mother’s home cooking and some alone time with your dog. But, between having to tell every single person I speak to that I’m not a sophomore (I’m a second-year!) and that a well-timed cheeseburger with a fried egg on top can in fact change your life, it’s hard not to miss the people who embrace these things with pride.
I am the type of person that picks up her phone to call someone the moment I am left alone on my way to class or in my car.
It’s the Sunday after fall break, and I’m exhausted, hungry, and have a ton of work left that I procrastinated doing over the weekend.
Last week, feeling it was one of our last chances of the semester to be social, my friends and I decided to go out for one final hurrah. After performing the hour’s worth of rituals associated with getting ready to go out, we left our hall.
Almost as soon as I woke up Sunday morning to catch my flight back to Charlottesville, I felt the waves of a homework-induced headache descend over me.
Last Friday, my friend Sarah and I briefly retired from the traditional first-year nightlife routine of frequenting frat parties.
I have a strange love for road trips and plane rides. I hope anyone going home for the holidays will ultimately be able to understand this sentiment — though I know it may take some explanation first. You see, while there are certainly downsides to traveling — having to wait in massive security lines, having your flight cancelled or, in the case of a road trip, being stuck in terrible traffic —overall, I tend to see the experience as an enjoyable one. First, there is the people-watching.
1. When asked about your love life If you don’t have one, make one up. There’s no avoiding the 12 million questions which, coming from any and all parties, concerning your romantic interests — a topic apparently of utmost relevance to anyone who shares even a drop of your bloodline.
First semester of fourth year is coming to a close, but my conversations are beginning to resemble those of a high school senior.
At the University, music is omnipresent. Walking through dorms, you can hear an eclectic mix of songs permeating through the walls.
Finding God An agnostic’s church experiences by: Grace Muth The congregation had come before the altar, before the pulpit and stage, and we crept through the back entrance, hands lifted in song lyrics projected onto the white walls.
