Skepticism and doubt can be just as healthy as optimism. Never was this been more apparent to me than last summer, when I received a phone call from the National Alopecia Areata Foundation (NAAF) saying a cure for alopecia was close at hand.
Tinder: It’s eerily reminiscent of your grandma wagging her finger back and forth at you, telling you, “We weren’t so superficial in my age!” — back and forth — swipe right, swipe left.
I’ve just crossed the border into an unfamiliar territory — being single on Valentine’s Day. Should I start planning for the apocalypse now or when I’m drinking my sorrows away on Saturday? If you cannot tell, the break up happened recently.
Call me my father’s daughter, but I’ll be damned if I don’t love nachos. Yet never had I thought my love of chips and cheese would be correlated with the success of my, erm, love life.
Before the date, both students said they were intimidated by the intensity of the questions. They said many of the questions resembled ones they would ask a close friend — not a first date.
It’s been indescribably painful to be without you for this long. Since you’ve been gone, I‘ve had to follow random Instagram accounts in order to make up for my incredibly dull feed.
Recently, there was an article in The Cavalier Daily describing how fellow student Attiya Latif brought World Hijab Day to Grounds. While it was a well-written article, something about it bothered me — the hurtful comments.
While several people are panicking over the unforgivable sacrilege of being single on Valentine’s Day, I am panicking over turning 21 shortly thereafter.
Valentine’s Day in elementary school is blissfully simple. You spend one afternoon covering a shoebox you brought from home with lopsided red and pink construction paper hearts, then circle around the classroom stuffing one Peanut’s themed slip of paper — with a Hershey’s Kiss taped to the bottom if your mom was feeling really generous — into each classmate’s box, no questions asked.
Meeting someone new before graduation
At the beginning of spring semester, fourth-year College student Jeremy Hurley started a project — Cans to Cans — with the goal of increasing sustainability on Grounds and supporting local homeless shelters.
Nothing reminds me there’s still evil in the world quite like the Duke game. This year’s lineup, in particular, embodied everything despicable about Duke.
Last week I embarked on a grand adventure to the land where dreams become reality — no, not the Corner following midterms — Walt Disney World.
Last Thursday night, 150 Charlottesville community members and I attended a panel on race relations and community development, held in reaction to the events in Ferguson, Missouri.
To this day, “Drops of Jupiter” remains the most meaningful song in my life. It’s the first song I play when I come home from college to a dusty piano.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when I began to singlehandedly dismantle my own self-confidence. Beginning somewhere near the beginning of fall semester, I fell into a debilitating routine of insecurity and systematic self-doubt—triggered by no one specific event, I somehow convinced myself I was failing as a student, as a friend, as a writer and person. It’s strange how no one really talks how transitioning into your second year at the University can be hard.
As an English and Religious Studies double major, I frequently enjoy the privilege of navigating the “what on earth are you going to do with that degree?” question.
University Career Services concluded its first Second Year Week — a new initiative to provide second-year students with professional opportunities — this past Friday.
In her short time here at the University, first-year College student Attiya Latif has immersed herself in clubs and organizations related to promotion of diversity, tolerance and acceptance of students of various backgrounds.
Last February, after receiving an email from his brother with the simple message, “so good” and the song “I Wanna Get Better” by the Bleachers attached, fourth-year Commerce student Collin Waldoch had an idea.
