I can still remember the day my little brother was born—January 1st, 1994. There was a picture taken of me talking to my mother as she lays in the hospital bed, wearing my bright blue “I’m a sister!” sweatshirt and remaining blissfully unaware of the small, sleeping baby in the background.
If there’s one thing college has taught me, it’s that it is impossible to have everything figured out all the time.
Fourth grade was my golden year. I know telling you this is to publicly declare I am totally lame, but I have to say — those were the days. I mean, my middle part / gaucho pant combo was super trendy, and I had my multiplication tables memorized like nobody’s business. One could even say I was killing it.
A breakdown of Olympic (and non-Olypmic) endeavors for interested viewers.
Different strokes for different folks
Students piled into OpenGrounds Thursday for a Valentine’s-themed poetry slam sponsored by University Programs Council and the Collegiate Speech Team. Amid the smell of coffee and the ambiance created by a fireplace on a large TV screen, 14 poets read and performed original five-minute slam poetry pieces.
More than 35 million people in the world are living with HIV, including 1.1 million in the United States and 23.8 million in Africa.
January has been a good month for Virginia Basketball fans. While some might fixate on obvious achievements—Mike Scott’s blossoming NBA career, blow-outs against seven of our first eight ACC opponents and the label of best team in the country according to ESPN’s BPI ranking—there have also been some subtler developments. The first of these is finally overcoming the Canes Challenge.
“Name, year, major, hometown … oh, and what’s the most datable building on Grounds?” It’s my icebreaker of choice.
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.
