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In one of my classes the teacher asked us to come up with a slogan that represented our generation. The room fell silent until someone half jokingly said something about ignorance. People contributed a smattering of other ideas but the first really stuck out to me, and suddenly I started to realize: It's the sad truth.
10. The delicious pork. I don't know about you, but that straight-off-the-skewer taste is something I crave all year. You'd think a professional cook was flown in to roast that pig to a tender perfection, and with the crispy Brioche rolls to go along with it (actually, they might be hamburger buns, but those things sure taste straight out of an expensive French bakery) the meal is worthy of a four-star restaurant. Oh, and I can't forget the baked bean dessert to top things off. My mouth is already watering.
Alright, so let's clear things up here: I'm no longer an employee of The Collegian. I loved my time on staff, but during my last four weeks of college, I'm excited to be able to spill my opinions and reflections without having any of the constraints of a Collegian staffer or editor. As such, I will be brutally honest, occasionally self-serving and probably controversial in my columns during the next few weeks, so I hope you read, relate to and respond to them.
As I sat at the head of a long table tucked away in the corner of Mom's Siam Thai restaurant, I looked at the young, happy people at my table and couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly drunk. I had not had any alcohol at this point; rather, I was completely and utterly love drunk. I was surrounded by my closest friends at this school and couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for all of them. I also couldn't help but laugh because more than half of them were Collegian staff.
Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamt that I was standing at the edge of a cliff called academia. As I stood, overlooking the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below, I heard a large crowd approaching from behind.
There is a force in life that propels us. It persuades us with clear and convincing evidence. It twists our arms until we cry uncle. It's scary. It's mysterious. It's a huge motivator for why we do what we do at any given moment.
On one of my most recent visits to the iTunes website, I was surprised to see that every country listed had the same No. 1 song: Lady Gaga's latest single, "Born This Way."
According to last week's police report in The Collegian, an unknown offender stole two textbooks, valued at $432, from the bookstore. After reading the report, two thoughts instantly came to mind.
Some of the most irritating experiences that can occur in a classroom setting, in my experience, happen because of class participation policies.
In a world of opposites -- hellos and goodbyes, cause and effect, life and death -- there is one pair of opposites that I think deserves special attention: you and everybody who isn't you.
I predicted my holiday would be fairly uneventful this year considering I had nothing to do for a month except apply for jobs.
Considered by the New York Times to be "a comedy empire," Second City is one of America's leading sketch-comedy and improvisational groups to date.
Thanksgiving is almost upon us and with that, so is the pressure to perform. Not in the sense of when Aunt Carol, who likes to hit the sauce a little hard on holidays (and I'm not talking gravy), asks you to play the piano even though you only took lessons for a year when you were 10, but rather the other tradition that comes along with the territory of Thanksgiving: the act of giving thanks.
This weekend I was caught doing something I never do: cleaning. I straightened up my room, Swiffered the floor and even reluctantly cleaned out the refrigerator.
It's that time of year again. The leaves are turning crimson and gold, the air retains a strong scent of burning leaves and all the soccer moms at Martin's have started wearing their finest black cat and googly-eyed spider sweaters. That can only mean one thing: Halloween weekend is upon us.
My freshman-year roommates used to joke that I dressed like a middle-aged woman. I agree that I often looked like I had been raped by a Talbots kids magazine and frankly, it wasn't pretty.
I normally don't make bets.
Teresa Lewis, the first woman to be executed in Virginia since 1912, was put to death by lethal injection last Thursday.
With Parents Weekend quickly approaching I've got two things on my mind. One of which may or may not include hiring Merry Maids to come and salvage what's left of my apartment. "Mom, I swear it came this dirty!"
They say 60 percent of married couples meet in college. But don't fret; if you don't meet someone in college, 50 percent of them are getting a divorce anyway. Oh well. Here goes nothin':