As a 2011 Westhampton College graduate now working as a religion reporter and news editor, I would like to take this opportunity to respond to Qasim Rashid's Nov.
Dear Editor, I agree with Mr. Ahmed that journalists must report the truth, but his November 2 Opinion Editorial "Sickness of Balance" presents a double standard. Previously, Mr. Ahmed concluded his news coverage of an October 20 Shariah Law event that the UR Muslim Law Student Association (MLSA) hosted with an opinionated assertion that "Islam, like all religions, has no basis in science." In his Nov.
I agree with the diagnosis, oft-cited by Cenk Uygur of The Young Turks, that establishment media is losing its way because of its insistence on balance for balance's sake.
I have discovered a newfound weekend hobby: being sober in a room full of sloppily drunken people.
1.What does Shariah mean? "Shariah" is the law of the Qur'an and literally means, "A path to life giving water." In fact, the word "Yarrah" (i.e.
"Why doesn't that girl wear shoes?" I wish I could say that it was a campaign to raise money and awareness for impoverished, shoeless children, but as noble as this may sound it is far from the truth.
When I was traipsing around Scotland during my semester abroad, I noticed that the plastic bags at Tesco, the mainstream supermarket, were streaked with the slogan: "Every little helps." For the life of me, I could not figure out what the missing noun was. Back in America, President Obama's newest slogan seems to be: "Every little dollar helps." For students, that is.
The Libyan revolution came to an unexpected climax this past week when news broke that the deposed dictator, Muammar Gadhafi, had been slain at the hands of the rebel forces.
Sorry to anyone who thought I was creepy on Tuesday night while walking across campus in the dark with an enormous smile spanning the dimensions of my face. You know those moments when you walk away from something and feel like you can change the world?
It seems that not all of my assumptions about growing up are true. Part of the reason I was particularly excited to turn 21 and move away from the lodge culture was simply that I could start investing in nicer going-out clothes. Back during my lodge days, I wouldn't spend more than $15.95 at Forever 21 on a going-out shirt because I knew for certain that by the time I got back to my room, it would be soaked in beer, sweat, tears and shame. I had to be practical and overlook so many nice shirts and dresses simply because I didn't want to buy something I knew I would ruin later that weekend.
Ever since my roommate burned a copy of a Dispatch CD for me, roadtrips have turned into private, alternative rock concerts that rattle my rearview mirror in its frame. The other day, I was trying in vain to tune my voice to the lyrics: "Say what you want, say what you mean, question yourself -- are you really what you seem?" I latched onto the existential sense that, at the college age, we are meant to learn to be more transparent and to be comfortable enough to project to others exactly the kinds of people we are. This movement toward transparency conditions us for comfort.
The infamous "work hard, play harder" lifestyle here at Richmond is not an easy one to keep up with.
On the evening of Sept. 15, I, along with another member of Spiders for Life, put up flyers in the women's bathrooms in Boatwright Library, Jepson and the International Center.
So last Saturday I was kind of in one of those moods where you just wanna be a sloth all day, lie in bed, not respond to your texts and listen to sad music about how men will break your heart over and over and over again. However, my roommates have long dealt with my Saturday blues and they know from experience that the one thing that will get me out of bed and into pants with a non-elastic waistband is food, so we decided to go out for a roommate dinner. There is nothing lovelier than sitting around with your roommates and discussing boys, food, friends, clothes, politics and the latest Supreme Court cases over a pail of Sticky Rice tater tots.
The slow-motion suicide of Pakistan in the decade since 9/11 is a story that has seemed to lay at a low boil for most Americans, only to periodically rocket (if you'll pardon the expression) into our headlines with spectacular Today Show-friendly events: The video-taped beheading of Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl in 2002, the return and murder of Benazir Bhutto in 2007 and finally, the Navy SEALs' dispatch of Osama bin Laden in the Pakistani military cantonment of Abbottabad earlier this year. The past three weeks have added fresh milestones on the road to an alarmingly possible (and alarmingly nuclear) Armageddon. First, Adm.
I have found myself becoming increasingly sucked into the environmentalist movement since coming to the University of Richmond. Despite the exponentially growing amount of time and effort being consumed, I cannot stop throwing myself only further into activism. As a Washington state native, my sustainable energy, endless forests and community's general environmental awareness has long been taken for granted. But upon coming to Virginia, I have realized that most of our country is still unaware of where its energy comes from, the destruction that this process is causing and how very relevant it is to their own lives. This past weekend I found myself at Virginia Powershift; an entirely student-run, state-wide conference that educates and builds leaders in the Virginian environmentalist movement. The conference was composed of various educational sessions, ranging from media relations workshops and wind energy educational courses to outright philosophy discussions.
The Occupy Wall Street protests are something that should concern even the most politically withdrawn members of the University of Richmond.
I have this vision of myself this time next year. I am bumming around in the darkness of my parents' basement wallowing in my inability to latch onto some noble, writerly pursuit. Meanwhile, I imagine my sibling floating through medical school on a cloud that will one day shower him with public admiration, respect and financial stability. I have panicked about my post-college potential to a friend more than once.
So, I know that I recently wrote an article about how I am no longer the lodge star that I once was, but even I, retired lodger, would like the chance to revisit my old sophomore/junior roots every once in a while just to make sure that nothing has changed. Though it's not necessarily my scene anymore, I can fall asleep in peace on Friday and Saturday knowing that people are still making out recklessly in embarrassingly tight clothing covered in sweat with eye liner and mascara running down their drunken faces. However, it seems like my peaceful weekend sleeps may be interrupted by this whole "let's try to make the lodges classier movement." Even if I wanted to go to the lodges, just for kicks, (literally, like if I wanted to get kicked in the shins all night), I probably couldn't make it past the new "let's not have any more fun" police, who for some reason feel like three people per brother is an appropriate way to stop people from getting too crazy. I mean the way I look at it, at least if everyone's drunk at lodges they're all together in one collective location.
This past weekend, I was at the 7th UR African Film Weekend hosted in the Ukrop Auditorium of the Robins School of Business.
