Freak of the Week: Knight or Gnome?
Dear Freak of the Week,
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Dear Freak of the Week,
As my mom and I cruised along Interstate 91, our car stuffed to the brim with my mattress topper, electric tea kettle and entire wardrobe, the highway breeze smacked me with intense déjà vu. This is the same route I took 11 months and one week earlier — the day I moved into my freshman dorm. I struggle to believe it’s already been a year since I began my time at Dartmouth.
After living at home for the past three months, I miss Foco. Not the slow-moving stir-fry line or the scramble for a table at peak meal hours, but the ease of grabbing dinner with friends after a long day in the library or with random classmates. As the only dining hall on campus, Foco guarantees chance encounters. It’s a place for eating, sure, but it’s also a place for unexpected conversations and connections.
On August 30, 2023, I entered my freshman dorm room for the first time, accompanied by my suitcases and parents. The next day, I attempted my first walk around Occom Pond. I got lost at some point. The day after that, I made my first visit to the poster store in town with someone I met during lunch. A small poster of a 1912 oil painting called “The Bicycle Race” caught my eye, and I bought it for my dorm.
This article is featured in the 2025 Freshman Special Issue.
This article is featured in the 2025 Freshman Special Issue.
This article is featured in the 2025 Freshman Special Issue.
This article is featured in the 2025 Freshman Special Issue.
This article is featured in the 2025 Freshman Special Issue.
The end of every term at Dartmouth feels like a reckoning. Finals bring chaos: panicked cramming, desperate office hours, the startling Vox Daily notification reminding you that you’ve overstayed your welcome on 3FB and should really go to bed. The quick pace of these weeks always sparks big questions for me: What am I doing? Will I pass my classes? What do I even want from my life? The finale of sophomore summer, of this momentous chapter of Dartmouth life, only intensifies those feelings. With half my college experience behind me, the pressure to feel certain about who I am, what I want, where I’m going presses heavier on my chest, my lungs, my arms. I’m pinned to the ground. I’ve never been especially religious, but studying for my organic chemistry final has me sending up prayers.
A memory: My roommate and I collapse into our seats across from each other at the dining table of our apartment in Prague — home for the next 10 weeks. Between us are bowls of couscous, roast chicken thighs, grilled eggplant and roasted carrots. As we begin to eat, our conversation drifts from excitement about being abroad, to weird cake ideas, to concerns about pigeons in the apartment. Warm sunset light bathes our meal. Like my study-abroad friends often said, this must be the point.
Dear Freak of the Week,
Dear Freak of the Week,
Dearest fine readers of Mirror,
I’ve always loved going places. Whether it’s a quick Target run in West Lebanon, a weekend getaway to Wisconsin for a Coldplay concert or a trip to Europe with my family, the joy of possibility has always drowned out any anxiety.
I’ve been journaling a lot this summer. Not every day, and not with the intention of writing anything particularly poetic or put-together, but a lot. It’s mostly scattered thoughts — half-finished sentences, lists of things I’m trying to process, weirdly specific moments I don’t want to forget. It’s like the feeling of driving with the windows down after a long day, or hearing something someone said that hit a little too close. I journal in the times of the day when things slow down: late at night before bed, sitting in my parked car after a long drive or in the 20 minutes between class and Collis lunch when I need to get out of my head.
Dear Freak of the Week,
To be honest, I never put much thought into my sophomore summer living situation. I lived with one of my best friends during my sophomore year, so there was never a doubt in my mind that I would continue to live with her for sophomore summer, especially since our junior year D-Plans do not line up in the slightest. We knew that our dorm would be nice, and we were fairly content with our ways of life, so we never looked far beyond the College’s housing options.
Dear Freak of The Week,
Dearest fine readers of Mirror,