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You should really finish up that problem set, but you should also show up to that social event you planned. You should turn in that internship and job application ASAP, but you should also be sleeping more to manage your health. The pressure creeping over your shoulder. To work? Or to play? Are your 20s and 30s your “prime years?” Work now, play later? Work hard, play harder?
Self-care at Dartmouth is hard. Your roommate has sexiled you three times during the past weekend, and you’re not excited for Valentine’s Day. Midterm grades are rolling in, and now you’re reflecting upon your life choices (why didn’t you put an NRO on that class again? Oh yeah, because apparently you can’t NRO more than one course). Remember that person you swore you were going to grab a meal with when you saw them in KAF line Week 2? How’s that going? It’s so cold that you get brain freeze just from walking between Collis and the Hop. EVERYONE IS SICK.
Valentine’s Day is either an excuse to go on a romantic date with a significant other, a time to gather a group of gal-pals and watch sappy rom-coms, or a reason to treat yourself to that overpriced box of assorted chocolate truffles. Whatever you are planning for Valentine’s Day, I just want to remind you that it is also a time when we can show ourselves a little extra love. Here is a list of my top seven self-love anthems that you can jam out to on any day of the year.
Before Robert Trundle ’91 arrived on campus, he already had high expectations for Winter Carnival.
These days, we do a lot of documenting without a lot of remembering. Pictures are taken, social media helps to preserve moments in time, but we rarely look back and think of how far we’ve come. With Dartmouth’s 250th year upon us, we’re now asked to reflect and remember — but remember what exactly?
“Winter Carnival” was a low-budget Hollywood production set at Dartmouth that was released in the summer of 1939. It was an escapist romance movie that included a fleeing heiress, a heartthrob professor, plenty B-reels of ski jumps, ice sculptures and historically accurate newspaper headlines that exclaim “SMOOTH BABES INVADE CAMPUS.”
“From Gurgl and Obergurgl to New Hampshire comes Dr. Wolfgang Schlitz. Touring the White Mountains, he sees Mount Washington, famous for high winds, terrific storms, many climbing tragedies.”
We have different ways of dealing with stress. Some will write down everything they need to get done in the next 24 hours and go down the list, chipping away at a seemingly large mountain of to-dos and don’t-forgets. Others will push off what they need to get done — “Hey, I haven’t cleaned my room in a while, let me rearrange my shelves instead of starting this paper due on Friday.” But it’s almost universally understood that being told to “chill out” is, in most cases, unhelpful. No, taking a chill pill won’t help me ace this test or interview tomorrow. Wow, does it sound like we need to calm down? Excuse you, it’s week six, the part of the term when things aren’t fun anymore. If you’re like us and are in desperate need of a break, explore this week’s issue and chill out with us.
I first heard about Comparative Literature 42.01, “Prada, Chanel, Ferrari: History and Literature” during the tail end of this past fall term. Long enough into the term that I’d begun to feel that itch: the one that you feel when you have just finished midterms and major projects, but have yet to begin finals. The calm before the storm, a lull right before things get crazy, prompts me to start looking at the course timetable for next term. Fantasizing about classes that I didn’t currently have to worry about, the escapism trickled into conversations with friends. Soon, our mumbled grievances during rushed meals turned into almost giddy, romanticized exploration of courses we didn’t have to do work for yet. Somewhere along the way, appearing almost out of nowhere, the mythos of “Prada” was created, and it was felt everywhere on campus. As soon as course selection period began, the class filled up instantaneously, perhaps based on the assumption that it was graded entirely on attendance and four pop quizzes. The class limit was increased from 30 to 60, then again to 200. On the first day of winter term, not accounting for unregistered attendees hoping to get off the waitlist, the class numbered somewhere around 230 people.