1. Complain about the cold: Now that January is behind us and spring has an official start date, it’s okay to complain about how cold it is.
With the greenhouse-turned-dining-hall N2 no longer obscuring Peabody Hall, a mass exodus back into the second floor of Newcomb Hall has begun.
I’m making a calendar today. A calendar of events, in which I map out my remaining months, weeks, days and hours — time I will spend at the coffee shop or the library or the small wicker desk pushed up against the wall in my oblong bedroom. I almost had a miniature panic attack last night as I lay in bed thinking about what my calendar would look like, but then I remembered that panic attacks wouldn’t fit into my weekly event lineup, so I quelled the urge to scream.
I’ve come to terms with having a complete mental breakdown roughly three times a semester. It’s practically a ritual now, where everything suddenly piles up and engulfs me, dragging me to the bottom of a lake of self-pity. To the general annoyance of my friends and neighbors, I find myself holed up in my room, eating tubs of raw cookie dough and watching reruns of television shows, attempting to convince myself that by not doing anything, I am, in fact, helping myself.
During syllabus week of a psychology class first year, the professor said something that has since implanted itself in my regular thoughts.
This past Saturday was my last Boys’ Bid Night. On one hand, it was sad to reminded of how fleeting my opportunities to wear neon workout clothes and run all over Rugby Road while buzzed off cheap liquor are.
As fourth-years get closer and closer to D-Day — or Final Exercises, whichever you prefer — figuring out what you’re going after May 20 becomes increasingly daunting.
Taking only 12 credits this semester — only one of which has mandatory attendance — means that I have more free time than ever.
Laura Year: First Hometown: Toronto, Canada University Involvement: Women’s Rowing, Intramural Lacrosse, Sustainability U.Va., Monroe Society and Environmental Sciences Organization Ideal date (person): Tall, good smile, fun loving, adventurous and charming. Ideal date (activity): An evening bonfire outside where we cook our own food and joke around.
1. Going to the gym: Walking into the AFC the first week of school may as well have been a party on Rugby.
I walked into El Jaripeo for a causal Sunday dinner with my roommate this weekend, and I suddenly found myself at what appeared to be headquarters for sorority life.
I love lists. I have lists for my lists. I don’t think I could navigate a day if I didn’t lay out my plans for it.
When we returned from winter break to find there was a new taco joint in town, we were elated. Especially when we realized it had replaced Big Dawgz, as we both hate hot dogs and thought of the yellow sign as more of an eyesore than an enticement.
In a blitz of mixed emotions this weekend, my roommates convinced me to get my ears pierced. If I’m being honest, it was inspired more than a little bit by the “Fourth year don’t care” mentality permeating every aspect of my life as I sit on the cusp of “growing up” – because let’s face it, I’m still dependent on my parents for more than just tax forms.
Edible Blue Ridge Magazine brought students and Charlottesville residents free cupcakes and the chance to purchase fresh foods from local vendors last Tuesday at the Artisan Food Fair and Cupcake Walk.
Sometimes when I sit down to write a column, I have so much to say that the words just flow onto the page as smooth as butter.
I really wish I could think of something non-Greek to write about. I can feel myself slowly becoming Cady Heron from “Mean Girls” — except instead of constantly word-vomiting about how if Regina George cut off her hair she’d look like a British man, I can’t shut up about how I don’t need to cut off all my hair because my new sisters introduced me to “hot curlers” and it’s going to change my entire frizzy life.
Like many of us, I was so ready to leave my hometown when I graduated high school. I couldn’t wait to go somewhere where nobody knew me and take the opportunity to start over completely.
Dear Mr. Poe, I enjoyed the single life my first semester at college, but now I think I’m ready to settle down.
1. Second-, third- and fourth-year sorority sisters can have their lives back — Jokes! It’s bid week, biddies!
