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(05/27/11 2:00am)
On May 21 at 6 p.m., people around the world celebrated when the Rapture did not occur. I was not one of them. Sure, life would go on longer than predicted, but I knew the expiration date was nigh. For I, Emily Hirshey, can see what is coming: On June 12, 2011, the world will end. G-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named is rapidly approaching, and there's nothing we can do to stop it.
(05/13/11 2:00am)
I went through my first two years of Dartmouth adorably ignorant of any Monday night scene that extended beyond Tri-Kap Freeze. My knowledge of secret societies consisted solely of identifying the building next to AD as the Sphinx, which I assumed to be a tomb containing the embalmed remains of an actual sphinx. I thought Casque & Gauntlet was an affiliate of Dungeons & Dragons enthusiasts. And although C&G is not even "secret," I refused to ask further questions the fact that they had a formal was, in my imagination, the most ironically hip thing ever. I mean, I'd already seen "The Skulls" an age-old classic with Joshua Jackson and that really hot blonde guy who is mildly illiterate but is apparently quite Fast and, one might wager, 2 Furious so I wasn't totally clueless. I obviously knew that somewhere on campus, people (men) were clandestinely handed yellow convertibles and prostitutes. I just didn't see it.
(05/06/11 2:00am)
So I have a huge problem with the theme of this week's issue. Basically, I've been begging for this to happen since I joined The Mirror staff freshman Fall and had given up all hope that the "Harry Potter Issue" would ever come to be. So I wrote about my beloved HP for an early column and even agreed to be photographed as the biggest tool The D's seen since that time there was an article on uncharacteristically large tools. (I have faith there was once such an article.)
(04/29/11 2:00am)
Once upon a time, I was an athlete. Swear it. My nickname on my soccer team was "crusher" and I was a ruthless, blood-thirsty machine. Opposing teams would tremble when I walked onto the field. My teammates would bow down in my presence, knowing that I was the almighty force that would bring them victory time and time again. I was their shin-guarded savior, a goddess among mortals.
(04/22/11 2:00am)
Franklin Delano Roosevelt famously said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." False. And stupid. There are plenty of things to fear snakes (on or around planes), clowns, animals dressed as humans, '15s the world's a scary place. However, the one thing I never expected to fear were words. I'm referring to seven discrete words used in a given sequence, specifically
(04/15/11 2:00am)
Dartmouth students are really overzealous about warm weather. Like, I get that you're excited that the sun's out. But 40 degrees is not shorts weather. And it's rude that you're making me feel bad about wearing a fleece. Because unless you're secretly a werewolf from Forks, I know you're f*cking cold. So stop playing frisbee and put on some closed-toe shoes.
(04/08/11 2:00am)
So, you guys
(04/01/11 2:00am)
When I walked into my house for the first time after spending a week in Costa Rica, my mother was beaming at me. Had she simply missed me more than words can say? Was she just relieved that I was safe, given the "horribly realistic" dream she'd had about a rebel uprising of howler monkeys attacking me in my sleep? Nope. Instead, she joyously proclaimed:
(03/04/11 4:00am)
Reader? Hey. How was your week? The best ever? False. Why? Because the Oscars are over and thus awards season draws to a close. Therefore, I imagine your week was a dark spiral of despair that no panini or cancelled class could fix. You must have been diagnosed with a mild form of post-(Vanity Fair) part(y)um depression by now. No? These words literally mean nothing to you? Well, scram we don't need your kind here. Because unless you've been trapped under something very heavy for 128 hours, you have no excuse for missing the Oscars. You are dead to me.
(02/25/11 4:00am)
I usually have no problem shirking the Mirror theme any given week, but ignoring the "Real Talk" theme made me anxious. I didn't want to be the only idiot with nothing to say. Although I usually yearn to provide the comic relief, my fear of irrelevance among all the "real talk" articles just made me want to exorcise the smiley face from my header's clock tower. So I tossed aside all initial ideas for this week's column, ranging from "Gleeber" (Bieber-themed Glee this week like having birthday sex at Disney World) to the overlooked plight of the cowl neck, because they're clearly silly and superfluous.
(02/18/11 4:00am)
Fact: There are 4,248* undergraduates at Dartmouth.
(02/04/11 4:00am)
As you've probably noticed by now, this week's Mirror is about heart-ing Dartmouth. Obviously I back this. However, given that my column's premise is that I have quite fond feelings for Dartmouth, I felt that I should bow out from this week's theme and give the other writers a shot at the topic. Or at least that's what I told my editor.
(01/28/11 4:00am)
Disclaimer: This column has nothing to do with this week's theme. It's also not in my usual list format. I'm only assuming you care because, if you're reading this, you're probably somehow related to me and thus expect me to justify myself in exchange for paying my tuition. So, sorry, love ya, moving on
(01/21/11 4:00am)
So, I decided that I would write something relevant for once and address this week's theme in my column. ARE YOU OVERWHELMED BY EXCITEMENT?! Duh. Who doesn't love majors?! Me. Right. I hate majors. I realize that's a very bizarre category to harbor animosity towards, but a liberal arts curriculum will get ya that way. As much as I love Dartmouth (or at least every term but the Winter), the school has taught me very little that is translatable to real life. Yeah, okay, I can recite a Baudelaire poem in French (kickin' it highbrow right quick), but to learn the really important things I have to turn to outside sources and, like, the newspaper is REALLY BIG. Have you held it? Super heavy. I simply don't understand why I can't get course credit for watching "I Love the 80s." Seriously, that show has taught me everything I know about the 80s and how to love it. And if VH1 presented "I Love the Hapsburgs," I'd probably feel the same way.
(01/14/11 4:00am)
Readers, hi. You need to know that I cannot coddle you this term. The "OMG HAY!" of yesteryear was from a different me, a warmer me, a me that proclaimed "Dartmouth's my favorite!" with sickening sincerity. Well, that smile on the clock tower is taking an off-term in Hawaii with Malia and Sasha and is hereby replaced with sarcasm and disdain. You see, the winter brings out the Grinch in me. (While I'm specifically referring to his "mean, mean" ways, know that, as a Jew, if I could steal Christmas for myself, I would.) I thought I could fight winter's overwhelming powers of soul-destruction (see last week's column), but it took about three days for my cold heart to turn to black and my cold/flu to turn me into the Puffs mascot. And while "a nose in need deserves Puffs indeed," this demonic weather deserves bitchery and harsh judgment.
(01/07/11 4:00am)
Hey, so, um, it's Winter. I mean SNOWMYGOD 11W, GUYS!! No, that feels wrong. I'm just not sure I'm quite ready for exclamation points. SAD face. (Preshmen, this is very different from "sad face." The Stall Street Journal will explain it all soon.) Temperatures in the single digits and the lack of circulation in my extremities are robbing me of that sunshine-and-sparkles feeling that usually comes at the beginning of a new term. But that's no reason not to have goals or dare I say resolutions?
(11/19/10 4:00am)
I have something to admit. I feel like now that we've been together for a while I can open up to you a little more. It's time for me to be honest. While I'm exceedingly nervous to reach this step in our relationship, I pray that this moment will not affect your feelings for me and that it may, in fact, bring us even closer.
(11/12/10 4:00am)
Last week, someone asked me why my column was so consistently ignorant of The Mirror's weekly theme.
(11/05/10 3:00am)
This week's Mirror is about Forums (capital "F" because WE MEAN IT). This seems serious. If I make fun of it, I'll probably be the cause of the next discussion. However, I like that Forums make us reassess our behavior. Well, so does Homecoming. Thus, I offer you a quiz to discover your Big-Weekend-Emotional-Age (duh). I felt it was time for a quiz because, a week later, you're still trying to remember how to read/process-non-alcoholic-beverages and also because the Sorting Hat Facebook quiz is dominating my Mini-Feed.
(10/22/10 2:00am)
So, this past Saturday, I was doing homework in the library. (Sorry for being awesome.) Now, sometimes I listen to music while I study. And many-a-time this music is a playlist of various Now! and Jock Jamz hits. However, to enjoy these (once) happenin' tunes, they really need to be self-inflicted; if these symphonies are forced upon you when you're not in the correct state of mind, results can be devastating. The last thing I ever wanted was to resent the song "Space Jam." But on Saturday morning at noon, the unthinkable happened. Music came blaring through the walls of third floor Berry and raucous merriment aggressively emanated from Sigma Alpha Epsilon. Trying to study and focus on brooding, I suddenly felt accosted by fervent pleas to "slam." Excuse me. I did not asked to be "welcomed to the Jam." And, furthermore, I stand by my right as an American citizen to dislike to "move it, move it." You can't make me be happy, jolly or have a sense of general satisfaction while I'm in the library. On a Saturday. All basic contentment needs to be kept as private as possible anywhere within a five-pong-table radius of this place. I don't want any pep rallied near my oasis of despair. Thus, SAE has violated the first rule on my prescribed etiquette of what should be kept private versus public. (These two words are incorporated in the theme of this Mirror issue. So it's topical.)