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.
Kim Brooks Mata lives by one philosophy: dance is a reflection of life, while life is a reflection of dance.
To quote our nation’s most revered nightrider (pun intended): “The turkeys are coming!” Well, no, those may not have been Paul’s words verbatim.
I have never been more excited or ready for Thanksgiving break than I am this year. I can say this with full certainty as I sit on the fourth floor of Alderman, my eyes feeling dry as I stare at my computer screen for another solid hour and the little white squares on my iCal taunting me with the days left between me and going home. “Going home” used to be an expression casually tossed around as I climbed into my car after a day of high school or left my friend’s house after a night spent out, but now, as a fourth year in college who has spent the past 3 1/2 years living by myself, it means something more, something different. “Going home” now means packing up a small parcel of my life here at the University and taking it back to the place that constituted my life for 18 years.
One feature every University student has in common is this: we were the high school students who had the stellar GPAs and test scores, and spent our days running from practices to club meetings to tutoring and back again.
A few days ago, I opened my Facebook to 47 notifications. Needless to say, I was thrilled people were finally recognizing the caliber of my Facebook profile, which includes biannual statuses about some life-changing event and stunning tagged pictures of me at my best. My high hopes and dreams were quickly shattered when I realized what the reality entailed.
My best friends are fiercely loyal and come with no strings attached. They know my phone always dies at least three times during the day, that I have a mild Rue La La addiction — or, in their words, a severe addiction to online shopping — and that my alter ego is a cat that tends to come out when I hit a point of deliriousness.
On Friday, student group Crafting for Conservation and Student Council’s Sustainability Committee gathered in the Garden Room on the Range to present the first Sustainable Art Gallery and to celebrate “America Recycles Day,” which also took place on Friday.
Stepping up to the podium, fourth-year College student Arni Mapili turns to face a crowd of about 70.
What says “college” more than working at the college radio station? Not much. Enter WTJX, the new student-run station hoping to re-energize the student-led music scene.
A plethora of statuses have dotted my Facebook newsfeed in recent weeks criticizing the early onslaught of reminders heralding — Hark!
At the beginning of the semester when I had just joined The Cavalier Daily, my fellow Life columnists released a flurry of writings on something which is apparently on everyone’s mind: sex.
I’ve recently been looking into some addiction therapy programs, and I’ve read some literature on their 12-step recovery processes.
In the 19th year of my life, I did two things that were profoundly stupid. For two entire days, I made Facebook my homepage – a decision which single-handedly compromised my already dwindling ability to simultaneously do homework, check Twitter and keep up with the Kardashians.
Girl runs. Girl falls in mud. Boy witnesses fall. Boy helps girl. Boy offers Band-Aid. Girl blushes.
The Committee to Pave the Lawn — gasp as you will — is a real thing. Fortunately, there is no need to worry — the committee does not have real intentions of paving over Thomas Jefferson’s Lawn.
From the moment we are pushed out of our mother’s vagina, ugly and crying, we are taught the value of the birthday.
I am the product of a technology boom. It defines my generation and by association, I am now scared it defines me.
People often complain about the overuse of the word “love” and how this leads to the loss of the weight it’s supposed to carry – and this is probably true.
