People are too nice, and I’m tired of hearing too much of the same thing. I’m tired of hearing my TA say, “Yeah, that’s a really good point!” when I didn’t even do the reading.
Before arriving at the University for the first time this fall, I was “lucky” enough to receive advice from every single person who had already experienced a freshman college year.
It’s 12:04 a.m., and I cling to life with “Breaking Bad.” Brains and blood and buckets of ketchup textured blood coat my screen and I feel more.
“I’ve been sexually assaulted.” Hearing those words from someone you care about can be devastating, and it can be difficult knowing how to react or what to do to help.
We all have that special bite that stands out in our memory. Whether you were four or 23, some meals are so good you can almost still taste them.
This time last year, I was in a complete first-year slump. I spent my first round of midterms treading in deep water, straining to keep my chin above the surface.
When I first started writing for the Life section a little over a year ago, I was assigned to write a biweekly “how to” column.
I love seeing people I know on my way to classes. I love that warm, fuzzy feeling I get which says that yeah, I’m cool because I have people I can wave to more obnoxiously than a clingy mother.
Two lovebirds banter over dumplings and sense a tinge of love, and then he asked Cavalier Daily Love Guru out.
A project already three years in the making finally made its appearance on Grounds last week at the Lower Arts Lawn.
Tucked beside the looming O’Hill is a quaint garden, bursting with vegetables and towering sunflowers — unseen to all too many first-year eyes.
Calling home never sounded so good.
This week’s Cavalier Daily Housing Issue has prompted me to take stock of my new living accommodations.
Sometime during the first seven days of my first year last fall, when I was still trying to figure out the location of Gibson Hall and attempting to incorporate dining hall food into my regular diet, I received a grounding message in my snazzy new U.Va.
Halfway through his performance with fellow members of Carbon Jam, first-year Engineering student Carter Hall had a sudden thought: the sax rift from Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop” would go perfectly with the band’s current song.
I was sitting in my apartment with a group of friends when the United States government shut down. We responded to the news as follows. _Friend 1: “Do you think I’ll still have my midterm tomorrow?” Friend 2: “This is huge, guys.
Alcohol has a mysterious way of transforming the bubbling beauty you sit with in chemistry into an undesirable, non-mythical, sometimes-animalistic drunkard.
It seems everyone around me is eternally exhausted. Think about it: when was the last time you slept in confidently, without the stress of homework swallowing you the moment you open your eyelids?
Considerably unique in comparison to its less complex counterpart — flat-out rejection — it seems friend-zoning is a fine art that requires keen logic and preemptive instinct to be carried out properly.
The concept of karma has always interested me, but I’ve never actually thought it existed. Sure, bad things are bound to happen sooner or later if you are a terrible person or constantly in a bad mood, but that’s hardly a law of religion — much less a scientific one.
