Until two weeks ago, I had been a vegetarian for about six years. Beyond that, I had never eaten seafood — not even before I became a vegetarian. If you had asked me last year, I would have told you that I didn’t have any plans of quitting vegetarianism, thank you very much.
“Whelp, just another case of the Mondays,” my sister calls to me, coughing and hacking, plagued by some yet to be diagnosed case of hypochondria.
Anyone can turn on the radio and hear Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know,” but it’s rare to find an a cappella version with cats’ meows replacing the lyrics.
I knew it was going to happen. I spent the summer in New York City hanging out with Commerce School students who were working at banks.
Sorry to about three-fourths of my readership if I am being insensitive, but being 21 really is the best thing ever.
In recent years I’ve solidified my response to the question: “Do you speak French?” I respond: “Sure, I speak conversationally, but I probably couldn’t talk confidently about (insert extremely political or historical fact here),” for example, seventh-century Babylonian advances in astronomy. Although it’s questionable I could even have that particular conversation in English, the point is that my French vocabulary does not exceed that of a fourth-grader.
Dear Edgar, I’m a third year in the Commerce School. It’s everything I hoped it would be except for one big problem.
Early this summer, the beloved restaurant and bar on Elliewood Avenue, The Backyard, closed its doors without an explanation.
I walk into my sister’s room on a Sunday morning. She’s left for work in her Redskins t-shirt and baseball cap, jeans and blue tennis shoes.
In many ways, a 21st birthday is a rite of passage into a new world. You can get a horizontal license, you can show the bouncer your actual I.D.
If you entered OpenGrounds last Friday, you would have found a master class of musicians sitting around a table assisting a young composer with her new piece.
There are some things they don’t tell you about dorm life. They tell you you’ll have to adjust to living with someone unlike you.
For some people, fourth year is their chance to show off. That’s cool, guys. I get it. You don’t have anything else to worry about, you’re coasting, you have time to pick out what you want to wear.
Being back this fall has led me to realize I have a case of Peter Pan syndrome. If there were a Neverland for college students I — along with every frat boy — would definitely be there.
Date: Saturday, Sept. 8 Time: 7 p.m. Place: Café Europa Name: Taylor Year: Fourth School: Engineering Major: Chemical Engineering University involvements: Volunteer firefighting, AICHE Alumni and Corporate Relations Chair, Sailing Club, honorably discharged UTS bus driver, Hereford Student Senate Hobbies: I spend a lot of time at the fire station.
New Corner dining option Ginkgo had an official opening ceremony last week, treating their guests to authentic Sichuan food.
Growing up, I considered myself a regular tomboy. Looking back, I suppose this was mostly attributable to the one miserable afternoon I spent watching NASCAR with my dad and the plethora of worn jerseys passed down from my cousin. With this warped self-image came a lot of false confidence in areas that I cannot claim to have any real knowledge.
I have a nickname from childhood, coined and used solely by my immediate family. I’ve probably mentioned it before: Maisie.
Cavalier Daily: Tell me about yourself. Professor Balogh: I was born in Coral Gables, Florida. I still root for the Miami Hurricanes, and I also root for U.Va., even when they play the Miami Hurricanes.
To continue the trend of masking my own life crises as journalistic endeavors, I decided to write about my experiences attending a wedding this weekend.
