’Twas the night before Halloween, when all through the dorm
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’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.
Judith: We haven’t received a text from Binky in the last hour. We should drive up to Dartmouth to see if he’s alright.
It’s 8:35 on a Monday morning and you’ve stopped at Collis Café on the way to your 9L. You push through the students crowded around the smoothie station and reach for a “best ever bran muffin.” When you go to pay, you realize that 12 students have beaten you to the front of the line. Not having a minute to spare, you shove the muffin into your backpack, slip out the back door and sprint to the Life Sciences Center.
MASTERS SAM and DISASTERS SAM are playing pong together.
I remember my first Homecoming like it was yesterday.
Halfway through fall 2015, Connie ’18 was immersed in her first exam period at Dartmouth and was finding it difficult to live up to her own academic standards.
A cursory glance around any area on campus — Baker Lobby, Collis’s pasta line, the Green — will reveal an idyllic, picturesque scene. Smiling, chatty students eagerly discuss weekend plans and love life drama or offhandedly joke about how unprepared they are for an upcoming midterm, but deeper anxieties or troubles are rarely revealed. You may never know that the put-together, confident girl describing her busy social calendar over King Arthur Flourhad trouble getting out of bed this morning.
After enough swings, a baseball bat becomes an extension of the clean-up hitter’s arm. Skates define the way a defenseman relates to winter. Jerseys become identities franchise players wear day and night. The game the athlete plays becomes a fundamental part of who he is, and in many cases, that’s a good thing.