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Off-campus dining: Collis and FoCo are really getting old.
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Off-campus dining: Collis and FoCo are really getting old.
I think we were all convinced that the summer was meant to be ripe with these carpe-diem moments, in which we would constantly embark on adventures and escapades that would go down in history. But as the days grow shorter and the summer air crisper, I wish I could assert with confidence I made a significant dent in my bucket list. Unfortunately I can't, but that's okay. Rather than bore you with a catalog of lessons I've gleaned from the summer, I instead encourage you to take a moment and pause. Consider who you have become in the past two years and how you wish to grow before you leave the College on the hill. At least that's what I'm trying to do, instead of hoping to become the superwoman I had envisioned.
You may judge me for saying this, but my spirit animal is a fly. Yes, that's exactly what I said. A fly. For all of you scoffing at my choice, condescendingly shaking your heads for my failure to align myself with a more noble and majestic creature, you must understand the power of a fly on a wall.
The earliest iterations of the spring break tradition in the United States came in 1936, when the Colgate University swim coach brought his team down to Fort Lauderdale to practice at the Casino Pool. The experiment proved a worthwhile economic opportunity for Fort Lauderdale, which hosted the first College Coaches Swim Forum at the Casino Pool in 1938. The Elbo Room, a dive bar in the Seabreeze Hotel, opened that same year, pushing large numbers of college students, the beach and alcohol into coexistence. The stage was set for the spring break we know today. Fort Lauderdale snagged the clever moniker "Fort Liquordale," and in 1958, 20,000 students traveled to the city, a number that grew to 370,000 in 1985. In 1986, MTV launched its first spring break special from Daytona Beach, whose images reinforced the vacation's reputation for alcoholic and sexual excess. Spring break was firmly entrenched in college culture, and international destinations became more attractive for a younger crowd looking to places with lower drinking ages.
Waking up groggily from my typical mid-day nap in my newly fabulous king-sized bed (did anyone know that two twin XL beds mashed together magically creates a king-sized sleeping heaven?), I am forced to contemplate the age-old question we have all been asking since it was cool to watch "The Land Before Time" to nap or not to nap?
Dartmouth students are notoriously overbooked. A 10 p.m. group project meeting is the norm and our iCals are visually pleasing just based on the sheer number of color-coded activities. It's like one of those cherry-flavored candy canes that always pop up around Christmas, even though it's really just a written representation of all the things that keep us running from one end of campus to another, day after day, term after term. But just because our schedules are relatively frantic doesn't mean the way we handle them has to be. Theoretically, our approach to scheduling and extracurriculars should fall into two categories: the oft-repeated Type A or Type B.
I walked into the bathroom ass-naked in my dorm while my friend was filming me at like four in the morning, and all of my best guy friends walked out of the elevator and saw me. Stark Naked Scarlett '15
The deranged individuals at CNN Money that rated Hanover as the sixth best place to live in America were obviously off of their collective rockers have you seen how unsafe this town is? These people failed to realize that plaguing the clean streets, the manicured Green and the stately buildings are college students who act as if they are roaming around a playground that simply never closes.
Twins have fascinated me ever since I discovered that they were real. How could it possibly happen, I would wonder, that a fortunate assortment of individuals got to exist in doubles? Luckily, there is a plethora of these pairs around Dartmouth, all of whom have interesting insights to share about twinhood. While there are some who purposefully came to school with their siblings, there are others who ended up here by coincidence, and still others whose twin attends a different university.
I have always assumed that I understood what "dead" languages were. At Dartmouth, I have several friends who smugly informed me that they chose to take Latin or Greek in order to take two terms of language instead of the typically required three while simultaneously escaping oh-so-dreaded drill. While I shot these friends of mine the thumbs-up for discovering this ingenious plan, I was content with my own decision to take Spanish, which people actually speak in the real world. However, after attending Classics Club one Monday afternoon due to the pleas of one of my closest amigas, my perception of these languages completely morphed. I came to the realization that for a specific groups of individuals at this college, these languages were, in fact, very much alive.
When I was younger, a sleepover with a friend always felt like a blessing from the gods. To prepare, I would begin to eagerly concoct plans in anticipation. Despite my excitement, I always faced this magical night of fun and games with a certain sense of trepidation and anxiety what if I wet the bed? Unknowingly confess my deepest, darkest secret during a random bout of sleep talking? Had some freaky-deaky nightmare? While the length of possible sleepover mishaps was extensive, the nights usually went fine, mainly due to the fact that sleepovers were not too frequent. Living with someone at college, however, is the exact opposite of occasional. It is constant, it is intense and it can very suddenly escalate from great to horrendous.
It is almost always an exciting, joyous and eagerly anticipated event when vacation from Dartmouth rolls around. However, a small number of students in the Dartmouth community must divide their time away from school between two different homes when they leave campus. These students have divorced parents.
It is no new phenomenon that athletes tend to stick together like glue. Of course, it makes sense with their demanding schedules, intense discipline and mutual understanding of what it means to be on a team. We see sporty couples who migrate together in their matching varsity athletic attire, as well as girls sitting in FoCo amidst a herd of super ripped rowers. For players of certain sports, these interactions may become romantic dating is notoriously common among players on particular teams. But on the other hand, there are many teams that have minimal interaction with the opposite gender.
For most of us, Dartmouth seems too safe and sheltered for true crime to be a threat after all, we don't go to school in New Haven or something. As a result, many students simply leave their bikes unlocked, practically inviting thieves. The bicycle registration section of Dartmouth's Safety and Security website encourages owners to "reduce your chance of being a victim by locking your bike to an immovable object with a good lock." Kinne said that students often fail to heed this advice, leaving many bicycles unlocked all around campus.
WASP. One syllable encapsulates how a lot of people on the outside view Dartmouth. The 1950s and 1960s were the reign of the "Old Boys Club" at Dartmouth, and one might suppose that "White Anglo-Saxon Protestantism" was even more dominant prior to coeducation.
Cindy Pierce a mother, innkeeper and comic takes a humorous approach toward conversations about hook-ups, one-night stands and the lack of education about pleasure on college campuses. A graduate of both Hanover High School and the University of New Hampshire, Pierce is the co-author of "Finding the Doorbell: Sexual Satisfaction in the Longhaul" (2008). Pierce promotes openness about sexuality through stand-up performances and discussions at venues across the country, including many college campuses. Her dialogue facilitates conversations spanning healthy sexual decision making, birth control, body image, internet porn and the influences of alcohol on social life.
At a school where it's easy to constantly perceive perfection, admitting failure is difficult. No one cares to share that disappointing moment, and few wish to recall the feeling that erupted when success was unattainable. Filled with individuals who have excelled for years, Dartmouth consists of those who have always prided themselves on their achievements. What is not discussed, however, are those times when we struggled, even crashed and burned. In theory, we justify failure if it results from exploration and leads to personal growth but what constitutes failure here?