All in all, I led a very blessed childhood. This can probably be attributed to my family, which is functional to the point of strangeness.
Alas, the holiday season has officially ended and with it my excuses to eat and drink as I’d like.
I often ponder the big questions of life—things like whether the universe is infinite, if time travel is possible and why dentists and hair stylists feel the need to talk to you during every second of your appointment.
I recently witnessed a social networking blunder of the most mortifying caliber: the cringe-worthy accidental Facebook poke.
Picture an athlete bounding down a field while grasping a ball tightly, ready to score. Players about a foot taller than this athlete attempt to strip the ball away with brutal tackles, while two other players trail behind, armed with dodgeballs.
A little age difference and a lot of connection
While students pack the sidewalks during their normal Thursday walk to classes, Challah for Hunger volunteers gather behind their table on the Lawn and sell Challah to students in a variety of flavors that range from pumpkin chocolate chip to s’mores.
“Hey, bitch, give me your number,” one yelled. “I lost my number. I think I need yours,” another called. I wanted to turn around and give them all the middle finger, to tell them why their actions were wrong, why their words hurt not just me, but themselves too.
To return to Grounds after a month-long recess is to return to the town of Charlottesville, classes and most importantly, your friends at U.Va.
It’s that time of the year. Well, it just was. I, along with 1,000 of my compatriots, sacrificed three days of shower pressure and milk that does not come out of bags to move back in early and participate in what is certainly one of the weirdest experiences of my life.
I am not traditionally one to call myself superstitious, but my reflections have been making me suspicious as I consider that 2013 was perhaps the crappiest — for lack of a more appropriate term — year of my life to date.
To borrow a phrase from my second favorite critically-acclaimed musical talent, A-Teens, my life is currently “upside down, bouncing off the ceilings.” If you are cut from a more high-modernist cloth, the words of T.S. Eliot surmise my sentiments quite nicely: “things fall apart.”
It’s always funny how the smallest things can make lasting lifelong impressions on you — a certain song, a commercial on TV, or just a phrase from a book.
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.
Whether it’s falling off the monkey bars at recess or desperately scrambling to find a homecoming date, growing up can be tough. But for kids whose parents have or had cancer, the process is that much more difficult. That’s where Camp Kesem steps in.
Many students may not be aware of the dedicated group of individuals who work to create the atmosphere that permeates throughout John Paul Jones arena on a home basketball game night.
Students in the Society for Awakening Souls do everything from read tarot cards to perform the Chinese meditation and martial arts practice chi gung when they come together for their weekly meetings. The group, founded in the fall by fourth-year Commerce Student Nick Lasky, aims to serve as a spiritual outlet and resource on Grounds.
Third year and grad student rate their date on the Corner 7, 8.5
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.
