Mental illness no laughing matter
I received a disturbing text message earlier this week. It read: “Hey, dude, will u sell my friend an Adderall?”
I received a disturbing text message earlier this week. It read: “Hey, dude, will u sell my friend an Adderall?”
On a recent early Saturday afternoon, my friends and I were leaving our apartment complex to fulfill our appetites with some traditional Hispanic cuisine when suddenly, a man on a bicycle halted in front of us.
The city of Ann Arbor is simply hated by most Spartans because of the passionate rivalry between MSU and the University of Michigan. However, Ann Arbor also is known as home for this Spartan, which has created a unique transition into college for me.
K-I-F, kif. With those three letters, weeks of trust were broken forever.
By now, everyone has heard the sensationalized story of the MSU professor who had a nervous breakdown in class this week. Pictures have been circulated, comments made and stories written. If you have started reading this one, I sincerely hope you read it all the way to the end. I won’t keep you long.
As we all know, Michigan State is an extremely large place. Our campus is filled with more than 45,000 students, and many of those students are involved in extracurricular activities or one of the more than 500 student organizations on campus.
Soon after Republican nominee Mitt Romney made his infamous “47 percent” comment, my younger brother reached out to me asking for help regarding an extra-credit assignment for his high school government class. Although I risk the accusation that I am doing my brother’s homework (and that this article is late to the party), here’s my take on Romney’s “47 percent.
Apple’s done it again. Based on where you stand with Apple products, this statement could start up two completely different discussions.
For many of us, aromatic baked breads and scrumptiously prepared pastries are comforting delights. Yet for those who possess an autoimmune disorder called celiac disease, the consumption of these foods can trigger a wide range of unpleasant symptoms, including diarrhea, abdominal pain and bloating.
I have a terrible Michigan accent. Whenever I travel outside of the Midwest to visit family or friends, they make it well known how nasally my accent can sound, especially when pronouncing such words as “mom,” “class” and even my first name, Alex.
Four years ago, when I first arrived at Michigan State, I was not the same person I am today. Just as I’m sure the majority of college students have seen themselves transform over their college careers — hopefully in positive ways — I like to think I’ve shared in that experience as well.
I wish I could say I don’t care who you vote for — I do, deeply. But for the purposes of this column, I’m refraining from divulging my political beliefs for the promotion of a greater cause: the act of voting overall.
You won’t be offered the job if you do it. You’re only going to give people the impression that you’re trashy. Your kids are going to be embarrassed of you.
Last week, I watched a typical, boring lecture for my anthropology class on my computer. I sat at my desk, drowsily and inattentively, in the comfort of my green, plaid pajama pants and Michigan State-detailed Snuggie, staring blankly at the screen.
I believe in significant moments. They can last only a few seconds, but when they happen, every insignificant detail is ingrained into your memory.
When President Clinton exited the White House in 2001, he left the United States with about a $130 billion surplus. At the present time, we have more than a $15 trillion deficit. Aha, caught you! You think this opinion piece is going to be just another attack on the president and the Democrats. Sorry about that, but you have it a bit wrong.
When President Clinton exited the White House in 2001, he left the United States with about a $130 billion surplus. At the present time, we have more than a $15 trillion deficit. Aha, caught you! You think this opinion piece is going to be just another attack on the president and the Democrats. Sorry about that, but you have it a bit wrong.
After reading an editorial regarding freshmen being relegated into transitional housing, I thought I’d give my opinion on dorm life and the treatment of students. As a freshman, it did not take me long before I realized I was not a fan of the dorms.
If you ever have had a class in Wells Hall, chances are you’ve seen them. And if you were fortunate enough not to have seen them, then you had to have at least suffered the misfortune of hearing them.
My friends and parents probably are sick of hearing me tell them about my philosophy on grades. When trying to convince someone to skip studying to do something social, I’ll tell them, “Grades don’t matter. What will you remember in 20 years: a grade you received on a test in college or a bike ride to the park?”