Mr. Jefferson designed our University around a circle of sorts. The Rotunda, a half-scale model of the Roman Pantheon, stands as a series of oval rooms within a greater sphere.
As a member of the press, I will be the first to tell you — the press is not your friend. This is especially true if you attend the University of Virginia, where the story of President Teresa Sullivan’s botched ouster, handled with all the grace of Janet Jackson’s historic Super Bowl dance, haunts our hallowed Grounds even a year later.
After spending six months in Houston, Texas last year, I was really craving a great Charlottesville cupcake.
This spring break I spent eight days in Brazil with the Seeds of Hope trip, a much-needed departure from my life in Charlottesville and the anxieties and fixations that accompany it.
As the pain of the fractures from my biking accident eased throughout the spring semester of my first year, I retained a healthy fear of moving vehicles.
There’s something oddly comforting about studying in a cubicle. Perhaps these are just the crazed ramblings of someone who has been inside looking at book pages for too long, but I haven’t been able to shake this thought for a few weeks now. What once was a sad, drudging plod to Clemons has become a ritual.
It’s the beginning of March and in a few days I will be boarding a plane headed to Key West, Fl. It’s my first “college spring break;” the first time my final destination has been somewhere other than home in Gloucester.
Whenever I play the classic “random fact” icebreaker game, I always manage to surprise people with one fact.
When my sister Jennifer was born nearly 20 years ago, I didn’t quite understand the concept of having a sister.
It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen my parents, but this past weekend they came to visit me.
Every phase of my life has come and gone with certain eating woes I only later learned to appreciate. Once upon a time, all I had to do was sit in my high chair and watch people act like idiots to get me to open my mouth.
Without any way to circumvent the point, I’ll go ahead and write bluntly. An old friend died this weekend.
I used to be entirely indifferent toward U.Va. basketball. It wasn’t personal; I’m actually indifferent about most sports.
I’ll be honest: I didn’t receive any chocolates, roses or plush toys this most recent Valentine’s Day due to the absence of a significant other.
I have lived through 21 Virginia winters. For 21 years I have known, for the most part, what my December, January and February will look like.
This may be the week all of Grounds goes insane. Between elections, midterms and the millions of applications that are due between now and spring break, there is way too much to do and essentially five minutes to get it all done.
My first experience with a bowl of the Vietnamese master class soup pho — pronounced “fuh” — was at my first serious girlfriend’s house.
There’s always a point in the middle of February, in the midst of the grey skies, cold mornings and early nightfall that I begin to feel like I can’t really keep up anymore.
The strongest guidance I ever received came to me at the ripe age of 11 in a VHS recording of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” While my initial appreciation for this cinematic tour de force was the result of the ingenious and humorous scheming of the male lead, I later recognized that when it comes to defining a successful life, even the ideals of Confucius appear insignificant next to the world according to Ferris.
It would be fantastic to be able to start off a column by saying, “Three years ago today, I wrote my first column for the Cavalier Daily.” Coincidences and anniversaries are always good ways to start anew.
