As I read through Eric Del Pozo's "Some Words on Words ..." [The Dartmouth, August 8, 1997] I couldn't help but feel proud as he intoned the emotional power of language, of the myriad complexities it presents to us.
Theme music.Voice-overdisclaimer: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. The situations and people portrayed in them are real.
This term, in addition to fumbling through columns for this newspaper, I've been working on writing short stories for English 82, the fiction course.
I started my Tuesday morning fresh with column ideas, all of which seemed to vanish the moment I picked up The Dartmouth and read through Justin Carrino's comment on "Love, Dartmouth Style" [July 1, 1997]. (Let's face it: he's right about the preponderance of talk about love and romance among college students.) I, too, see the "common-law marriages" and the one-night stands taking place.
I was wandering around campus this week-end in search of a campus dining establishment that was open for business when I happened to overhear a conversation.
I've heard the low, echoed, fatuous moans of freshmen blending with the collective tearing of envelopes, punctuated by heavy sighs as their hazed eyes swerve to the words "Hinman" or "McLane" stamped seemingly in blood upon their fall housing assignments.
This past Sunday I chowed a $1 Whopper meal with three friends, courtesy of the East Wheelock Cluster.
As the weather continues to warm up and students studying on the Green continue to strip down (some more so than others), your eyes probably wander to the same place that mine do -- the mountains beyond.
Everyone's said it at one time or another: "I wish I had some time ALONE!" During the week before the start of Spring term I was traveling through Austria solo, in search of this elusive state of contented solitude we all seem to chase and cherish.
"I let you know in the last letter about a little mixup with Father Floozie," my mother writes. "I promised you a hot scandal -- so sit down, relax, and read -- this news is smoking!" During my Winter term in Germany, my mother had gotten into the habit of writing entertaining letters to me, but this particular one was particularly record-setting.