Last year, after a serendipitous encounter with University President John T. Casteen, III at Alderman Café, I was compelled to research this marvelous human specimen and document a brief list of my discoveries about the man.
So you're here. Whether you're a new student or a fourth year, you've crammed all your belongings in a dorm or an apartment or a house, and the only thing left to await -- other than the parties those few nights before classes start -- is the first day of class. During the first week of classes, many students actually show up to class and maybe even do a little homework.
Thanks to all the excitement that a new school year brings onto Grounds, some of the essential elements of college -- namely classes, majors, area requirements and all that "stuff" -- can be forgotten.
We're back. School is ready to start. Gone are the blissfully long summer days and nights, filled with nothing but pure and unbridled glee.
What do course registration, reading assignments and Facebook all have in common? Each depends on a working computer that can use the University network. "Each of us really needs to have access to be able to function 100 percent in the U.Va.
Perched on Massie Road, the new 336,000-square-foot John Paul Jones Arenatowers above its surroundings.
For some reason when I started thinking about first year, the theme song from "The Jeffersons" popped into my mind.
Orientation Leader (OL) -- (n.) a crazy, extroverted, University-enthusiast who can make any interaction an ice breaker, course advise into the wee hours of the morning and perform an 18-step dance routine to LFO's "Summer Girl" in style. Day 1 8 a.m.: Check In Me: "Good morning.
Ever since I can remember, I have had a thing for British stuff. I can only attribute this tomy early appreciation of British literature which commenced with my reading "Jane Eyre" at the age of eight.
I'm still in Asia, and I've realized that there's actually very little difference between my adventures abroad and my adventures at home.
It was the morning of Friday, July 7, when fourUniversity graduates, living in four different states and charting four different courses with their lives, got the same chilling phone call.
Recently, I took a little jaunt from my refrigerator-box sized studio apartment in Manhattan to Charlottesville to celebrate my 21st birthday (an event which certainly did not result in me falling into the coin fountain at Coupes) and move into my new apartment.For every year I have been at the University, I have lived in a different location and finally, for the first time, I have made a move up the housing hierarchy.
TRIPOLI, LEBANON, JULY 20 -- It's been just over a week since I woke up to find myself stranded in a war zone.
Wikinews. Wikiquote. Wiktionary. Best of all, Wikipedia. In case you're one of the three remaining University students who hasn't heard of Wikipedia, then let me fill you in.
Thomas Jefferson believed that nobody could ever attain the rank of "senior" when it came to education, because the quest for knowledge was never complete.
"Gettimelam, Gettimelam!" With the much-awaited cue, the musicians played the traditional wedding tune, and my cousin took the kaluthooru (wedding necklace) and tied its sacred cord with three knots, officially making the bride my Anni (a term meaning "elder brother's wife"). The three knots are said to symbolize the following: the first knot is of relationship, the second knot gives the bride and groom rights over each other, and the third knot tells the world they are married. I stood there in my new purple sari, matching the ones my cousins wore, taking delight in all the special symbolic rituals that come along with a traditional South Indian wedding.
Last summer, I thought I had set an all-time record for "summer job least suited to my personal talents, interests and skills" by taking a ritzy babysitting job, during which I catered to the demands of four-year-old yuppies wearing miniature ascots (I have since decided that I will not reproduce, thanks) and their horrifying parents who demanded that their little brat only be given organic soy chocolate milk and kept indoors at all times. Please.
I like to cook. My friends like to cook. Yes, I have friends. Some have suggested that I have friends only because I cook well, but enough speculation for now. We like to cook in my apartment.
Summertime: A time when the shackles of education are thrown off and young people grab hold of the reigns to their lives.
Before I launch into a wealth of valuable advice (read: a couple of slightly humorous observtions) for the first-time office worker, I must say a word about something I realized today -- getting out of a mall at closing time is tantamount to escaping from Alcatraz ... at high tide ... in shark-infested waters.
