The DM Manual of Style
Fashion is a tricky business. As Mark Twain once said, "The clothes make the man," and no one wants to be caught in something hideously outdated.
Fashion is a tricky business. As Mark Twain once said, "The clothes make the man," and no one wants to be caught in something hideously outdated.
/ The Dartmouth Staff / The Dartmouth Staff The Mirror is back for 10X!
"Wait, so you're not going to be home this summer?" "No, I'm going to be at Dartmouth." "Summer school?
I have been penning this technology column for a long time since my freshman Fall in fact. There have been times when I have hated it for monopolizing my time and also times when I have loved it for the benefits it could get me.
Last weekend was pretty much the quintessential Dartmouth weekend. A cocaine scandal erupted in the pages of The D on Friday, with felony charges raining upon our friends, acquaintances.
It's been fun, seniors. I appreciate the example you set for me, as I viewed many of you as my role models or at least as a wake-up call to get my act together.
I distinctly remember that bare-throated feeling of seeing my brother Jack's empty room the day after he left for college, that sense of losing my protector, my built-in companion, the one who always forged all the new paths a year before I did and then came home from kindergarten and taught me how to spell "dog" and "fish" before all the other four year olds. I have a soft spot in my heart for the '10s because they're graduating with him, because again the thought of the seniors moving on to the so-called "real world" makes me feel vulnerable, like I've just been placed in an open field and the last line of defense has fallen. I don't want to get too sentimental here, but if I have to reminisce about graduation, these are the thoughts that come to mind.
The first time I said I was "a '10" I was 15, hungover and at my dad's 25th reunion, at a session on "How to Get into Dartmouth," more precisely.
"She is a New Orleans girl and New Orleans girls never live anywhere else and even if they do, they always come back.
'10: That's why you write a thesis, so you can make shit up. '11 Guy: The results were wrong or something because of the, uh...placenta effect. '11Guy to '11 Girl: Let's go back to single sex education...(thinks)...actually I probably wouldn't have come here.
I'll be gone in two weeks. I'm not quite sure what's next for me, but I guess my Dartmouth career is a story of uncertainties.
Since it's the senior issue and everyone is writing a reflection on their college career, here's my own self-serving trip down memory lane: I wasn't real sad about the '08s graduating as a freshmen I was too caught up in the thought of spending a summer with my friends from home to really care.
Dear Cherie, You've only entered high school this year, so throughout my four years at Dartmouth, you've always been a bit too young for me to be 100 percent honest with you about College with a capital C.
Dear Miss Muffin Top, What are you doing after Graduation? Everyone F*ck you, who cares?
If I let this opportunity to make a pun about using this story for The MIRROR as an opportunity to REFLECT slip through my fingers I will never forgive myself.
I'm about to give my last few tours of this campus which means that there are precious few opportunities for someone to fulfill my dream and pull off the next Drinking-Time-level prank with my tour group as the unsuspecting audience (June 2nd, 11:15 a.m.
Every person has that one random summer job he or she is constantly trying to forget about. You know what I'm talking about that time when you gave Duck Tours alongside a group of elderly women, cleaned animal feces out of the cages of your city zoo or served as a branch manager for a local McDonald's (Yes Danny, I saw the pictures). In other words, you'd just rather not talk about it.
You are not special. You do not leave a big hole. They dig a hole and put you in it. Those words, spoken impossibly elegantly by Garrison Keillor ushered me into my senior year at Dartmouth.
We sat in the rocking chairs on the Casque and Gauntlet porch waiting for Amita Kulkarni '10. We heard her before we saw her.
So today I experienced a perfect succession of blitzes in my inbox. The first was from my mother, informing me that she wanted to send some of my columns TO MY GRANDMA and inquiring if this week's installment would be "appropriate" to include in the collection.