As a senior with graduation fast approaching, every moment inevitably becomes a “last” or a “close to last.” A little less than a month ago, I celebrated my last “First Day of Classes”—FDOC for those in the know.
My experience with newspapers started back in 2007, when my classmates and I produced a weekly four-page Word document and shamelessly distributed it to all 62 people in our grade.
When I was 4 years old, my pre-school teacher told the all the kids in my class to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Recruitment and rush have always been my favorite and least favorite time of year on campus. Like most days at Duke, every day during recruitment feels like a year, since everyone’s rushing off from one flurry of social events to the next.
The people I communicate the most with via text are the ones with whom I trade the fewest sensical words.
With every editor’s note, I struggle. I struggle with coming up with a topic. I struggle with finding the time to write it.
I first read James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in my twelfth grade AP Literature course.
Arguably the most popular boy band on the planet, One Direction released their most recent album “Made in the A.M.”, last Friday on November 13th.
I got out of work on Monday at about 4:30 p.m., just as the day was on the cusp of turning dark. It was not quite raining, but dripping, and warm.
If you ever see me around campus, more than likely, I’ll be wearing headphones. Whether I’m studying, making my way to classes or working in my lab, I promise you that I will have two, worn buds jammed into my ears at all times.
In art, the best endings usually leave some things unsaid.
It’s a little early in the year for nostalgic senior columns, and yet my last year of college has already brought nostalgia with nearly every experience.
Follow your dreams, kids. You want to be an expert on Canada? There’s a minor for that. Part your hair on the left side for a change?
When I was four years old, television was my best friend. As sad as that sounds retrospectively, my younger self found an esoteric solace from the small, flickering screen tucked away in the living room of our two-bedroom apartment. Throughout the early years of my childhood, my parents exhausted themselves trying to build their careers to a point where financial stability would not be an issue so that they could forge some form of the American Dream for our family.
Sometimes I am baffled by how much importance we place in opinion. Specifically in art, where nowadays most of us agree that there exists a special value in each one of our subjective opinions, it seems that people spend too much time arguing over the validity of a certain point of view.
Sometimes you just need to listen to something retro. A track that doesn’t feature Fetty Wap or Ellie Goulding.
There’s a remarkable diversity of relationships you can find and make in this place. There are your superpower soul sisters who know you so well that you speak in your own private tongue.
Stepping onto Duke’s campus as a newly-minted freshman three years ago, the arts were the furthest thing from my mind.
It all rolls in like a long-term houseguest who leaves fresh flowers on your bedside table.
