Fridays With Marian
Can I just replace this week’s column with former Rep. Todd Akin’s speech following his 2012 loss for some position I don’t remember? So much weirder and more entertaining than I’ll ever be.
Can I just replace this week’s column with former Rep. Todd Akin’s speech following his 2012 loss for some position I don’t remember? So much weirder and more entertaining than I’ll ever be.
In my second year at the Delaware Advanced Institute for Unreality Studies, the Blockor Memorial Art and Artifice Speculum, where I worked as a work-study student attendant, hosted a special exhibition entitled “Space Astonishes!” — an exploration by several musicians and visual artists of the aesthetic category of the sublime.
Big Green grads did big things on Tuesday.
As the first hints of a Southern autumn began to creep onto the glimpses of burnt oranges and overcast grays, Emory University saw its campus flourish in a sea of blue. When the university’s student government executive board urged individuals to wear blue on Oct. 6, the initiative blossomed throughout campus. Blue bed sheets hung from windows, and several Emory students passed out free shirts they had spent the previous night stenciling by hand. Greek organizations soon took the charge — several fraternities covered their windows in blue crepe paper, and sororities painted their windows blue, with messages of support across them. “We stand together,” read one window, its blue and white color scheme accentuating the Star of David in the center of a heart.
When you came to Dartmouth, you probably brought your backpack, notebooks and pillow. Did you know you also brought your tool kit?
’15 #1: “Did you get my dick pic last night?’15 #2: “No?”’15 #1: “Oh, thank god.” ’16: “My national rep leaves tomorrow at 8 a.m.
Born and raised in Houston, Texas, coming to Dartmouth was a big step for me. Most of the people in my neighborhood did not have the slightest clue that this college even existed. I had never done anything related to the outdoors, and I felt silly for not knowing the purpose of half the equipment I had just taken from the Robo basement. By the end of it all, however, I fell in love with the Lodge.
A letter is circulating among faculty members advocating for the abolishment of the Greek system. This isn’t the first time faculty have taken a stance — we examined previous votes faculty have taken on the matter as well as other letters and petitions they have distributed. Faculty may call a vote on the issue at the upcoming faculty meeting on Nov. 3. History may indeed be repeating itself.
If there’s one lesson “Mean Girls” taught me, it’s how to do Halloween like a champ — just add animal ears. This rule of thumb has brought me consistent success (recent hits include “sexy cat” and “sexy Mickey Mouse from ‘Fantasia’”) but my overwhelming lack of creativity just doesn’t do it for everyone, and I get that. On Halloween, we dress to scare, amuse and impress, sometimes all at once, and the rules that dictate our daily attire disappear.
A sixth grader told me Thursday morning, “You should be someone from the ’80s because of your hair.”
An important woman in my life once told me that “minor distinctions make the man” — a token aphorism whereby she justified her ceaseless vituperation of others, often me, for transgressing upon “Good Style” so criminally as to put prepositions at the ends of sentences (something up with which she simply could not put). “Fitzgerald said that,” she said, after saying it herself two or three times. “He always had his suits tailored at Brooks Brothers, you know.”
In the past few weeks, it’s been hard not to question some of those aspects of my identity that I used to consider givens.
How much would you pay for a one-night stay in the Upper Valley? $67 or $400? What about for a saucepan? $20 or $180? Beyond the confines of campus, the realities of economic differences between Hanover and the Upper Valley become abundantly clear.
The warm hues of the falling leaves and the tolling bells of gleaming Baker tower make me feel like I’m in a blessed enclave of academic inquisitiveness. I’ve just arrived at Dartmouth, and already find myself settling in to a cozy chair in Sanborn, content. But all is not well.
This fall marks the 10th time I’ve moved during my Dartmouth career. It’s the 10th time I’ve loaded my life into neat, portable containers and the 10th time I’ve carted those containers up stairwells, through unfamiliar hallways, into new rooms.
We sat down with government professor Sonu Bedi, who has studied the intersection between sex, gender and the law, to discuss women’s colleges in the 21st century.
’17 on a Thursday morning: “I need sleep, water and an IV.” ’12: “Okay, here’s the Homecoming plan.
You are probably asking yourself, “What does Marian think the federal government should do to prevent Ebola from spreading through the U.S. population?”
“Sarah!” I’d cry, “Bradford! How would you like to join me out on the fire escape? We can smoke clove cigarettes and read Camus to one another!”