Why am I already thinking about summer? Gloves are still a nearly everyday accessory for me, but what I'll be doing during the muggy months ahead is already weighing on my mind.
Winter's in the air and on the ground at University of Richmond, but snow isn't the only white stuff coating campus these days.
Sometimes it can be a little bit of a downer to return to school after a long, hot four months of working at that same summer job you've had since high school, traveling, name-dropping your fancy summer internship, spending time catching up with old friends and family, or whatever other activity you were engaged in that didn't involve homework or cafeteria food (sorry D-Hall, you're really tasty and DARN do you know how to make a panini, but you're still a cafeteria). Sure, it's exciting to see everyone's new haircut and set up your room.
Does your internet seem slower than ever? Do you find yourself crying at the smallest provocation?
It's the night before the SATs, and hundreds of high school juniors are sharpening pencils, replacing batteries in calculators and looking over flash cards one last time. In an ideal world, the only factor that would set certain students apart from others would be dedication to studying. Unfortunately, life isn't so simple anymore.
So, friends, the time is almost upon us again. The one day every year when sundresses, lodges and cooked meat coexist (semi) peacefully.
Brendan Rhatican recently wrote an interesting opinion piece on the rights of an unborn child to life.
This letter is addressed primarily to my friends in the graduating class of 2012, many of whom I have known since they were freshmen; however, I suspect the current juniors, sophomores and freshmen might be able to take something away from it as well. No doubt at this point many of you are staring down the last week of classes, excited about graduation, but still unsure of what comes next. For those of you who are going to grad school, have already landed jobs or are commissioning into the regular Army, the path is already somewhat obvious, so you can feel free to stop reading now if you'd like. For the rest of you, however, I'd like to share my part of post-graduation experience as someone who has just undergone the same transitional period into which you are about to enter. I hope to be able to perhaps alleviate some of the fear, anxiety and misconceptions that are all too real for a second semester college senior who has no concrete plans after walking across the stage in May. The first thing I would like to get out of the way is that the vast majority of employers do not care about your major. Don't believe me?
I would like to reply to both of your writers, Ben Panko and Elliot Walden, about this topic. As a faculty member, I may bring a perspective to the debate over guns that few students or colleagues share.
Alas, it is the final edition of The Collegian before school ends and everyone goes his or her own way for the summer (but not before going out with a final metaphorical and literal bang at beach week). So, my question for everyone: What do you have to lose? Richmond is such a small campus that if you do something outrageously mean, slutty, ballsy, fashionably unacceptable or socially shocking in any way, shape or form, the chances of this deviation from the norm following you around via the Richmond gossip mill are pretty high. But as every celebrity who has ever had a sex tape leaked can tell you, time heals all and everything will blow over -- so why not consider summer as this blow-over period? Seriously, this is the last time that you are going to be on the Richmond campus with all your friends, enemies, lovers, crushes and dream boys for the next three months, so why not take this opportunity to do something that you've been wanting to do all year? If you're a senior, you are practically unstoppable.
I wrote what was supposed to be my last article last week. Upon reflection, yes, there are a lot more things that I could and should have written about, and I feel sincere regret for being unable to do so.
Halloween. As kids, it was the chance to stockpile more candy than a small country consumes in a year.
