We're All Connected, Unfortunately
I find it only my duty to inform the American General Public that I have not been feeling well lately.
I find it only my duty to inform the American General Public that I have not been feeling well lately.
Am I happy at Dartmouth? That's a question I found myself asking a lot last year as a freshman. I was a clueless, nave individual who hadn't really seen much of the world but was now committed to spending the next four years tucked away in some little, obscure, verdant corner of it.
Julia Louise-Dreyfus, the goddess of primetime television and creative essence behind the great Elaine Benes, never made it through college.
To the Editor: In yesterday's lead article about fraternity rush ("IFC to discuss new rush option") there were a few very important points missing that deserve attention. First, this is the first time that statistics concerning how many men rushed and how many men received bids have ever been gathered and evaluated. Second, when we began this process no one knew what sort of results to expect.
When considering topics for my column this week, I found myself wavering back-and-forth between a celebratory tribute to Bruce Springsteen on the one hand, and a discussion on the artistic merits of our new black-lit Green on the other.
Pushing through the back doors of Collis towards Robo and Thayer, a wispy gust greets me. As I descend the steps, my eyes adjust to the darkness of the cold winter evening and the orange glow from the flake filled night sky.
To the Editor: As a prospective student (a mere seven months ago), the aspects of Dartmouth that impressed me were that it was not trying to impress its students with new and modern materialistic allures.
The Dartmouth's October 5 article, "Students plan for 2000 New Year's," suggested that many Dartmouth students are opting out of a big gala affair for new year's eve, and instead are planning a celebration on a smaller scale.
There is a traitor among us, dear friends. Something watches passively from a shadow where the wall meets the ceiling and slithers its way into our bedrooms, our stomachs, our minds, and our Visa statements (I don't think it takes American Express). It buys property and forces us to eat DDS, all the while supplementing our meager (besides the Cordon Bleu) but costly (cranberry juice has gone up thirty cents since I was a freshman) Hop rations with intermittent Steak Bombs, Original Bricks, Egg and Cheese Subs, ramen noodles, Easy Cheese, and other less healthy dining experiments.
On the morning of September 9, 1999, I woke up at 3 a.m. after incessant poking on the part of my parents, stumbled blindly into the back seat of our rented van and forced my uncooperative eyelids to stay open so I could get just one last glimpse of my house. As the van backed out of the driveway where I spent hundreds of hours unsuccessfully honing my basketball skills, I could not help but thinking about all the things I was leaving behind: mom's delicious meals, my ancient 1988 Toyota Camry (hey, it got me from point A to point B), my private room, my dear PC computer (and the world of PCs), my friends (actually, they all left me gradually earlier in the month) and most importantly the sense of familiarity that I felt within my town.
According to the Bible, in the beginning God brought every living creature to Adam and whatever Adam called it, "that was the name thereof." Apparently, God gave this power to the Trustees too. Last winter when the new Residential Life initiative was announced there was a lot of name calling on both sides, but one of the names flung repeatedly from the Trustee side was "exclusive." Ironically, it was only after they called the Greek system exclusive that it became dramatically so. This year's sorority rush is over and although most girls who wanted to join a house are now members; over 50 are not.
To the Editor: In light of the thorough nature of your interviewing and coverage of the campaigns of Senators Bradley and McCain, I was both surprised and disheartened by the cursory and second-hand commentary you tried to pass off as news about the Democratic front-runner, Vice President Al Gore ("Candidates prepare for visit to College." October 4, 1999). You printed statistics about how many times Bradley and McCain have visited New Hampshire, as well as how many students Governor Bush has signed up in the past week.
I'm a senior now. In theory, I guess that makes me the one who should have the wisdom, the words of advice that I am able to impart on the younger members of the Dartmouth community.
Sometimes I really feel like I am still an adolescent, and not just because I routinely show the maturity level of fabric softener.
By now, every member of the Dartmouth community should have received a letter from me regarding the upcoming town meetings with the presidential candidates on October 27 and 28, 1999.
I simply cannot get over the fact that I'm a student at Dartmouth College. I've been here for over a year now, but I still get chills when I hear the Alma Mater played on the Baker bells at 6 p.m.
Well, as this right-wing, 12th century, fascist columnist -- that is, according to one of his most ardent fans -- was ruminating on the topic of his next column a little flap in NY arose which he could hardly resist commenting upon.
I really didn't want to start this year off with another column about the Trustees or their Initiative since it seems like that was all I wrote about for much of last year and there's only so many jokes you can make before getting hit with a libel suit.
Al Gore, the incumbent Vice President and Democratic presidential candidate, is running from his home in D.C.
This past week was one of those weeks. You probably all know the kind of week I'm talking about. A week of highs and lows, unforgettable and extremely forgettable moments, boredom, exhilaration, etc.