Dear Editor, I am writing in response to today's feature article entitled, "New Business Program for Men Upsets Some Women." There is a new first-year Living and Learning community designed for males only, with an interest in business.
I know that "lodging" is a celebrated tradition here at the University of Richmond -- it is an unexplainable phenomenon that shows nothing if not the class, grace, integrity and general respect for personal space that every Richmonder possesses as a general condition of his/her being.
I am procrastinating studying for my Spanish quiz tomorrow morning. So the logical thing to do is to stay up until 2 a.m.
Why are people on this campus so afraid of being alone? And I'm not talking about fearing for their lives while walking through the woods at night.
I was driving off campus last semester when I stopped at a traffic light adjacent to a panhandler.
An anonymous University of Richmond student -- who could have been either male or female -- started a posting thread on College ACB with a description of tasks that men pledging a campus fraternity were required to do before being initiated.
Members of the Interfraternity Council met last week to discuss the repercussions brought about by the gossip website CollegeACB.com. They agreed upon and drafted a resolution to pledge that no member of Greek life would condone such a community of gossip and hate. The College Anonymous Confession Board website is a place where college students can anonymously post anything and everything.
OK, I know that I wrote about Ring Dance for last week's wonderful edition of The Collegian, but to be honest, Ring Dance and Ring Dance-associated activities took up my entire weekend, so I'm going to just write about it again since I haven't been able to explore any other hot topic social questions like, where do all those missing socks and hair ties end up? And since we are taking a little ride on the honesty express, I'm going to admit I lack time.
As seniors, my friends and I were upset that we faced the prospect of paying $2,295 a month between four people to live in an apartment that would have serious problems passing modern building codes.
We laugh at Snooki and her Jersey Shore posse as they dump three pounds of bronzer on their faces every time they go out.
If you are like me, perhaps you are plotting that perfect spring break getaway to an exotic locale for some sun, fun and relaxation.
"Dexter" is an amazing show. It's engaging, interesting, well shot, and Michael C. Hall is perfect as the title character, Dexter Morgan. There is, however, one flaw that has irritated me endlessly throughout the series: Debra Morgan doesn't know how to curse and it is the worst thing that ever happened, ever. Her character thinks that she can string together any of George Carlin's seven dirty words and use them in any situation, regardless of what grammatical function they are fulfilling! In the wise words of Walter Sobchak, "this is not 'Nam, there are rules." If you make a grammatical error, you might sound slightly uneducated. But, if don't curse correctly, you sound like a goddamn idiot! As much as I want to, I can't give any examples of Deb's cursing here, but if you watch the show you should know what I mean. Beyond her ineptitude in the field of cursing, Deb might be the most selfish character in the show, even more so than Dexter. When confronted with any situation, Deb twists it until it becomes about her.
Growing up, I didn't miss doctor's appointments. My mother made sure that I had a yearly physical with my pediatrician, that I saw a dentist every six months and anything strange or symptomatic was immediately looked into. Though I may have complained, I had no doubts about my health. Come college, I can't say the same.
I can feel the heat on my skin; a refreshing breeze is blowing all around me; the faint smell of coconut lingers as I soak up some rays. You might be jealous that I'm at the beach right now, but don't worry, I'm just chillin' in a tanning booth, slowly but certainly asking to die of skin cancer. Yes, I'm lying here in my cancer coffin wishing I were at the beach but knowing that in eight more minutes I'll awkwardly have to crawl/slide out of this weirdly shaped bed and back into my frumpy tanning clothes. This is about the fourth time my friend and I have gone tanning in the past week. There is nothing we hate more than being pasty, especially because our dresses are going to be white and nothing looks worse than white on white (well maybe gray on gray is worse, if white on white is a crime, gray on gray is a felony.
I know what I want to do with my life because of Earth Lodge. I joined Earth Lodge my sophomore year and learned more from it than all the other classes I had that semester combined. My interests have swiftly grown from a limited curiosity about environmental policy to a dedicated student of green philosophy, which I plan to study further through a Ph.D.
This new month signals a time for evaluation. It's a time to work on areas of weakness in preparation for an enhanced performance and product. In light of a new month, check in on your progress with resolutions or goals you may have for the long term and short term. At this point, before Ring Dance, spring break in the Bahamas and the long summer break, check in with your fitness pursuits.
As sophomores, many of my friends were upset last year because they received high lottery numbers and thus were forced to live on the Richmond ("freshman") side of campus this year. I, however, living on the Westhampton side now, have come to realize just how lucky they actually were. Here are the top nine reasons why it's better to live on the Richmond side of campus: 1.
In one of my classes this semester, the teacher showed us a PowerPoint that included a quotation containing the word "Negro." After she read it, she turned to the one black person in our class and said, "Sorry, (his name)." There was a brief but palpable silence, and then several people in the class, myself included, couldn't help but laugh awkwardly. Personally, I couldn't believe she had done what I think every teacher at Richmond tries to avoid: making any reference to race at all that could possibly be interpreted as offensive. When I talked about it after class with the classmate who'd been called out, he said he wasn't bothered by it at all, and that he knew she meant well.
On Jan. 9, 19 people were shot in Tucson, Ariz. Six people were killed, one of whom was federal Justice John Roll and one of whom was a nine-year-old girl named Christina Taylor. Thirteen more were injured, one of whom was Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (representative of the 8th District of Arizona), who was shot point-blank in the head by 22-year-old Jared Loughner and somehow, miraculously, survived. I was required to read as many articles as possible on this issue for a class I am currently taking. It was the first time in a while that I have gone to the trouble of gaining a well-rounded perspective on an issue. I knew that a single media source rarely is a reliable account when trusted by itself, but my hesitant attitude toward doing unrequired research stopped me from putting in the effort I should have. I read a variety of articles on the Arizona shooting.
I love myself and I hate myself, but my diet starts tomorrow. I am perpetually hungry. Literally, there isn't really a time I can remember when I was too stuffed to eat more. I mean, I may have said I couldn't take another bite, but that was a matter of tricking myself into thinking for a moment that I could maybe practice some vague self-control to avoid the actual physical discomfort of a full belly. There's something about college that makes me eat like I'm one of those starving third-world country kids on the commercials who, by some strange twist of fate, found herself in a supermarket with Oprah's AMEX. When I'm at home, I eat a very "normal" amount of food (note: I mean normal for a chick who has a butt big enough to cause some Richter scale movement when she hops out of bed), but I pretty much eat my three meals and call it a day. On the other hand, when I'm at school I eat breakfast, a snack, lunch, dessert, a snack, dinner, a snack, second dinner, and then, let's be real, probably another snack if I'm staying up late. It's not like I burn more calories at school; it's not like my meals are any smaller; it's not like I'm eating for two.
