Just three weeks into the semester, and it’s happening already. Despite my feeble attempts to resist, I’m slipping into the abyss of college ignorance. I’m not talking about stupidity.
Case closed; Biggie murdered Pac. One of the most well-respected newspapers in the world alleged Friday that the true culprit in the killing of rap phenom Tupac Shakur was his lyrical foe, the Notorious B.I.G.
Tomorrow is Sept. 11, but I will not be joining the blathering voices flooding the media with calculated sentimentality.
This may be too ambiguous a societal facet to judge, but I wonder what happened to the value of having manners - or at least caring about other people. It just seems like a many of people are rude and impolite. Maybe I’m not the only one who feels courtesy and decorum are becoming a bunch of old-fashioned “rules” taking a back seat to modern modes and indecency. I’m not contending I’m the world’s most civilized person.
Be prepared. In this column, I am going to give props to sport-utility vehicles, factories and people who litter. SUVs are so cool.
Most days are a blur of motion and activity, beginning with the buzz of an alarm at 7 a.m. and not stopping until I collapse in bed at about 1 a.m.
Hi. I‘m Juliana. And I‘m an American-Idololic. I always will be, but I was recently forced into detox.
Ever since my days as a high-school opinion columnist, I have avoided writing about abortion. It’s an emotionally charged, polarizing issue on which the idea of compromise is usually lost.
Dear reader, last week, while the undergraduate population recovered from hangovers and began classes, I went on vacation with my family to the Bahamas.
Fall semester is gearing up and we are all ready for a fantastic adventure in education. I thought it might be an apropos time to make a statement to all you new and seasoned students.
With a dumbfounded look on my face, I tried to repeat in my head what this foolish salesman was suggesting I do. “OK, so you want me to learn to play guitar right-handed?” “Yes,” he said. “Even though I’m left-handed?” “It might work better for you,” he said. This whole time I’m trying to take this music store salesman seriously, but I am having trouble understanding his suggestion. He gives me some lame excuse that because I’m left handed, my fingers will be able to better occupy the frets on the neck of the guitar, and I can hit the notes more effectively.
I’ll admit it. I was excited to move back into the dorms. I had reason to be - I was moving into Shaw Hall, which with its newly renovated features was to be like a four-star hotel compared to my previous situation. But I’m not one of those who bashes the Brody Complex - as an ex-Butterfielder I can say that if I hadn’t made my roommate wait in line for six hours (thank you, Carmen) to get a room for us in Shaw, I might have been happy to stay in Brody another year.
From the MSU dorms to the far reaches of the globe, people of all ages are singing along to the words of fresh new faces.
People often say music makes the world go ’round. I tend to agree with that, but I’m afraid it might be spinning out of control. Music is a connecting force for people of every background across the planet.
I was seriously considering bleaching my hair and buying tall boots, or wearing short skirts and carrying a cell phone. I was ready to do pretty much anything that would help me fit in with the other girls in my freshman class.
I tried to leave, I really did. I wanted to find a job, now that I’m done with school, but it hasn’t worked out.
Show of hands: How many of you are deathly afraid of the real world? I’m not talking about the seven-strangers-picked-to-live-in-a-loft kind, I’m talking about the one after graduation. To be honest, I don’t think the real world is all that much harder than college life, especially if you’ve had some experience living off campus and worked while in school. In the real world, at least, you don’t have to juggle classes, jobs and maintain a somewhat decent social life - all while trying to scrape by with enough cash to pay the bills. It’s not the possible difficulty of post-college life that scares me - I can handle that part just fine.
In my brief life, I’ve been called many, many things: stupid, uncouth, boorish, squalid, fat and bothersome to name a few.
Three weeks ago, I had the honor of entering my friend’s new off-campus house, which he had moved into with about nine other guys.
I hope you won’t have to see my face in this spot for the rest of the semester. You see, this spot is usually reserved for letters to the editor.