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Children amble around, clad in costumes resembling pumpkins, angels and superheroes, lugging enormous pillowcases or orange plastic bins filled to the brim with candy. Elsewhere, older adolescents and adults host costume parties where they play spooky music and serve drinks called “The Vampire’s Kiss” and “Witch’s Brew.” Others watch movies like “Halloweentown” (1998) and “Harry Potter” while munching on candy corn.
It’s just after sunset as I walk down an alleyway in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, trying to make out the numbers on the buildings I pass. After double-checking my ticket for the right address, I join a group of people standing outside a building with a sign that reads “Deadwick’s Ethereal Emporium.” Glancing around, I’m getting a very touristy vibe from the group. I’m clearly the youngest, except for two pre-teen girls who stand with their mom clutching Starbucks cups between their mittened hands. I take a moment to wonder why I didn’t get Starbucks first. That was the move. With the sun down, it’s getting cold fast, and I’m wondering how much longer we’ll have to wait. I turn to a nice-looking elderly couple on my right.
Since the very first Halloween, people around the globe have always found ways to sexify everyday costumes — nurse, cat, witch, what have you. With a snip, snip here and a snip, snip there, that playful pumpkin becomes one steamy gourd. Others can’t help but shout, “Give me a load of that seed!” For the people and animals these sensual costumes imitate, however, Halloween can truly be a scary time. Here to talk about it are the costumes themselves.
Nine School Street is haunted. Many residents of the 19th-century mansion — today known as the Panarchy undergraduate society — firmly believe that spiritual presences both malevolent and benign haunt the building behind its massive columns.
For ’16s, this is the first time we’re all — more or less — on campus together since the 2012-2013 school year. My first night back this fall, fresh off the Dartmouth Coach and still lugging my duffels, I had dinner at Molly’s to celebrate a friend’s birthday. As a closet socially anxious person, this was the perfect way to start the term. I maybe not-so-secretly have the constant niggling worry that nobody likes me, and I should just go eat some worms. So having plans for a social gathering the minute I got here was comforting. After three years, I feel like I have networks — plural — of people to turn to and be with, and that’s a beautiful thing. Surprisingly, though, it’s not togetherness that’s fueled my happiness — it’s separation. It’s the D-Plan.
ABYSS SAM and SPIRIT SAM are walking in the graveyard.
Halloween has rolled around, and once again I am struggling to think of a good costume.
’Twas the night before Halloween, when all through the dorm
The social media hashtag “no new friends” has existed for quite some time now as a seemingly clever photo caption or as its own hashtag supplanting a witty Facebook status or tweet (for those of us who still tweet…). Like many trends, the phrase has lost much of its original pleasing power at the cost of its rising ubiquity. But perhaps there is a deeper truth here as well.
ACADEMIC SAM and ACAD-EH-MIC SAM are studying together.
I am probably the ultimate NARP. I’ve never seriously played on a sports team, and I tried to get away with only running 1.9 laps around the Homecoming bonfire. While many college-bound students write their Common Application essays about sports — a particularly rewarding win or upsetting loss, injury or serving as a leader on a team — I wrote mine about celebrities. Varsity athletes are arguably the closest people Dartmouth has to celebrities. On a campus where almost 25 percent of the student body is comprised of varsity athletes and overall more than 75 percent are in some way or another involved in athletics, my lack of athletic prowess is especially glaring.
In a school as culturally and academically diverse as Dartmouth, there’s bound to be immeasurable amounts of creativity and innovation. Coupled with a plethora of resources and opportunities at our disposal, the College often gives students full reign in developing their thoughts and passions. Resources such as the Dartmouth Entrepreneurial Network, Thayer School of Engineering, the Center for Service and the Neukom Digital Arts, Leadership and Innovation Lab give students the workplace to innovate.
As we approached the Dartmouth Outing Club House, we heard the faint sound of music buzzing in the air. We saw lights flashing, cars approaching and hoards of people standing outside on the patio. Before us laid the world of the unknown — we were about to crash a party full of students from the Geisel School of Medicine.
Combine your Favorite parts of every DDS location into one mega-dining hall and describe:
This time of year, television is filled with a colorful assortment of Halloween-themed flicks. You’ve got love-lorn witches and pesky pumpkins, but what about the other holidays? Have no fear loyal viewers, for when they’re not airing “Golden Girls” (1985) reruns or broadcasting the Puppy Bowl, nobody brings you holiday-themed films like the good ol’ Hallmark Channel. From their masterpiece, “A Boyfriend for Christmas” (2004) to their magnum opus, “The Good Witch’s Destiny” (2013), this cinematic giant never fails to elicit a hearty laugh or a heartfelt hug.
As overeager Mirror writers during their freshman spring, Maddie and Maggie always showed up to the weekly story assignment meetings with several article pitches. Most of these were shut down. Here is an ode to the stories never written.
Nestled among foliage-rich mountains, with its quaint Georgian architecture and innumerable friendly-faced students, Hanover seems little more than a quintessential, idyllic New England town. Nothing indicates that a history of violent crime lurks beneath its picturesque surface — and to imagine so seems virtually impossible.
In early December of 1895, relatives of the recently-deceased Joseph Murdock visited his grave in a Norwich cemetery. The Granite State Free Press reported that upon arrival, they discovered footprints in the snow and evidence that the grave had been disturbed. After further investigation, they discovered that Murdock’s body had been stolen and dragged across the snowy cemetery to the main road, where he was likely loaded into a cart and driven away. Less than a week later, two Dartmouth medical students were arrested for robbing Murdock’s grave.
15F. September. DHMC. I crossed my legs, my laptop precariously balancing on one knee as I frantically scrolled through the form with checkboxes ranging from “depression” to “paying bills.” I had to find the box for “anxiety” before the woman sitting next to me listed another symptom of dementia.
Sophomore fall, Maddie and Maggie, along with four other women, lived in North Fay 401 a.k.a. the Sextet a.k.a. the Sexytet (worst nickname ever — Maddie REALLY hates this name but was also the one who coined it). One of their roommates — we’ll call her Party Patricia — had quite the little hobby. She loved decorating the room. One night, Maddie and Maggie came home to find a new futon in their common room. What a wonderful surprise! Now they would have a sitting area for guests! Two weeks later, they found the most exquisite 3’ by 5’ painting of a few gentlemen toasting around a table.