Citizen Burger Bar, tucked away downtown across from the Paramount Theater, provides a burger that would make our founding fathers proud to be an American.
Sometimes I wonder if the world spins merely due to human energy. Are just we a bunch of Forrest Gumps, just running and running to generate rotation?
This just in: while the late March snowfall would have you think otherwise, the semester’s coming to a close.
I don’t have the luxury of getting to see my extended family very often since we are spread over a vast swath of the U.S.
Right now I’m writing on my bed, typing rather, unable to release myself from the comfortable grip of lounging around horizontally.
Last summer, I spent a lot of time walking. At the close of each business day, I would set off on my journey home, bypass the smelly, tourist-ridden Times Square subway stop and head straight down Broadway.
Signing up for classes gives me a strange sort of thrill.
One of the hardest transitions to college from high school is our newfound responsibility to make decisions for ourselves.
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.
