Political Pulse: The Grand Ol' Party Comes to Hanover
Fall term at Dartmouth always means several things: leaf peepers, a new worst class ever and pledge term entertainment.
Fall term at Dartmouth always means several things: leaf peepers, a new worst class ever and pledge term entertainment.
When the football team plays the University of Pennsylvania on Oct. 1 at home under the lights, will you go?
'12 Zete: Sinking halves and respecting women that's what Dartmouth is all about! '13 Psi U: Do you know what Drawing I is like?
If you're half as confused as most folks are about Twitter, or concerned your otherwise chirping social life could use a tweet or two, fear not.
Dartmouth is a relatively small school. Thus, as is wont to happen at liberal arts colleges in the middle of nowhere, you tend to walk around campus with the feeling that you are seeing the same people over and over again.
Facetime is like sex: everybody wants it, but nobody wants to talk about it at least in polite company.
I had my first encounter with Bored@Baker this past Winter term when I pledged a sorority. My friend informed me that she had discovered a post that mentioned my name, and I worried for a quick second that someone had found my poorly advised ARK Music Factory video and it had gone viral (just kidding, obviously I had already sold the rights to a huge record label). Unfortunately, I had not found YouTube stardom instead, the post went something along the lines of, "I can't believe [sorority A] let [sorority B] steal one of their Yangs!" Aside from that time that my friend took pictures of me doing a line of coke off of a hooker's torso in central Argentina and posted them on Facebook (hi future employers, I hope you've picked up on my humor by this point), this was probably the first time that I felt like I had received unwanted facetime. And I didn't do anything to deserve it, other than pledge the sorority where I felt most comfortable.
Remember when Facebook used to count the number of posts on your wall? Don't pretend I know you remember.
'13 Girl at Tails: I think I'm liking guys less and less by the minute. '13 Boy: Girls' masters is so much more fun than guys'.'13 Girl: Yeah, that's because no one boots on their dicks. '13 Girl 1: Some guy in 9th grade asked me if I only gain weight in my boobs.'13 Girl 2: That's, like, the nicest compliment ever. '11 Misogynist: You know how they have Pelt-a-Delta?
Reese Ramponi / The Dartmouth Hello, and welcome to the final Compact Mirror of 11X!
At a school where study spaces in the library double as social spaces and the aisle in our late central dining spot is described as a "runway," Dartmouth students are well accustomed to the concept of seeing and being seen, otherwise known as the both beloved and dreaded facetime. Certainly, the small size, relative isolation and unique social scene at Dartmouth all promote the significance that facetime plays on this campus.
A lot of people say that thinking about your last supper is morbid. I, on the other hand, find it really interesting.
When Jay assigned stories for this issue, I protested that I was not the best person to write about facetime.
I did my first walk of shame' this summer. I walked out of a frat house at 7 a.m. on a Thursday morning wearing a neon dress and a even brighter neon helmet (bring your childhood dress-up bins, '15s, because you will use everything in them for flair) and made the 15-minute trek across campus to my off-campus house.
Geography lesson: Dartmouth sits in the quaint town of Hanover in the small but fierce state of New Hampshire, fondly referred to as "the middle of nowhere." Yes, you have agreed to spend the next four years of your life nestled in between the White Mountains and the Connecticut River at the crossroads of liberal arts and the Appalachian Trail.
Learning to "speak Dartmouth" is a challenge. Drawing on both Latin and Germanic influences, our lingo endures despite a complete turnover in its native speakers every four to five years.
Catherine Treyz / The Dartmouth Senior Staff It's hard to imagine, but many moons ago, the two of us used to be in the very same place you are we know you are awkwardly sitting at home, on the cusp of reading the astoundingly wise and insightful words that these pages of The Mirror contain, as all your high school friends have already dispersed to their various colleges weeks ago and you're starting to become attached to your living room couch.
As you know, Dartmouth's 10-week terms allow students to take three classes at a time. What the folks in the admissions office don't advertise is that professors can (and will!) schedule midterms any time from Week 2 to Week 8, which means that you will have to take some time out of your ragey schedule to sit in the library and get your learning on.
Dear '15s, you all hail from a whopping 49 states and 54 countries all with different cultures and ways of life (trust me, I Googled it). However, whether you are a sweater-vest-wearing polo player from Connecticut or a kangaroo-loving Sheila (that means girl, right?) from Australia, there is one common bond that you and your classmates will all share during your time at the College: you will all eat in a Dartmouth dining hall. Eating your first meals in college can be daunting no one wants to be stuck in the classic Cady-Herron-Mean-Girls scenario in which you end up eating on a toilet because you couldn't decide between the burnouts and plastics tables.
In a few short weeks you will have been initiated into our unique college culture where the church is the basement, the holy sacrament is Keystone Light and 2 a.m.