It never crossed my mind that my apartment's hamster and I might have much in common until now. Our precious Rafi, whose formal name is "Rafiki," is a little part of Charlottesville that we Northern Virginians gladly tote home each and every break with us.
How many times have you seen a girl playing basketball on the AFC courts? Zero, one, maybe two times.
With its neon colors, hanging dice, surround sound and flat-screen TVs, the Wahooptie certainly isn't your average cab.
My best friend visited Saturday night. She is tall and beautiful. She is hilarious and politically incorrect.
Recently, I have come to terms with one thing: My teammates and I love food. Usually I chalk this up to playing an intense sport, one that involves a lot of banging into each other as hard as we possibly can for two to three hours a day, running until we feel light headed (then continuing to run) and shooting the same shot until our arms feel like rubber.
When Charlottesville's newest fire station opens on Fontaine Avenue, it will contain more than just equipment.
I still sleep with my baby blanket. This is a fact I do not even mention to my closest friends, let alone the entire Cavalier Daily readership.
I was looking for my old journal today. No, it's not leather-bound or dog-eared. It does not have tear-stained pages or exclamation points cheering on my daily achievements.
Because of the struggling economy, students are working to make the most of their limited budgets while attending the University.
As a second year in my second semester, time is ticking for me to declare a major. Sure, I have plenty of options, but somehow they don't seem like enough.
You know those graphic T-shirts that used to be popular, the ones saying things such as "sweet girl", or "brat?" Well, I have a confession to make: If I was the type of person inclined to wear stupid articles of clothing declaring facets of my personality, I would have to get the one that said "a little bit dramatic." This has been true ever since birth.
Dion Lewis, assistant dean in the Office of African-American Affairs and director of the Luther P.
First of all, I want to address the fact that I know my love and dating column is running on Valentine's Day for the first time in the three years that I've been writing it, but I also know that, for the first time, I want to write about something other than Valentine's Day.
College is a time of discovery, and in addition to worrying about classes and hanging out with friends, many students spend their four years of study contemplating what principles should govern their future lives.
With the second semester of the second year of premed underway, the time has come to think ahead. Really, really ahead.
My love affair with Panera started in high school. One of my good friends had an overprotective mother, so to hang out, we had to do so right after school.
Last weekend, citizens across the country paid tribute to Ronald Reagan for his 100th birthday. As celebrations took place, the former president's legacy took on new meaning for three University students.
I'll admit I am completely guilty of tuning out my parents the second they open their mouths to give me any kind of advice.
I cannot tell a lie. Trust me, I have tried many times. They were never big lies or dangerous lies or lies that could truly get me into trouble.
There is nothing like an overcrowded bookstore and several hundred dollars spent on textbooks to dull the excitement of a new semester.
