Learning how to spell
(01/21/15 1:31pm)
Back in elementary school, I once argued with my parents over the spelling of the word “farm.”
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Back in elementary school, I once argued with my parents over the spelling of the word “farm.”
The beginning of spring semester is an interesting time of the year—countless tents are pitched in K-ville in anticipation for the UNC game, the lot of once starved freshmen finally have food points again and, last but not least, rush begins.
I remember crying on the night of December 12, 2012.
I’m a sucker for romantic comedies. The rom-com is my go-to genre on Netflix and, for me, a solid rom-com beats a night at Shooter’s any day. On my list of guilty pleasures, watching rom-coms places in the top five, somewhere between indulging in Panda Express more than once a week and spending a shameful amount of time book bagging the second courses are released.
I’ve always found sports culture remarkably peculiar.
“So, what’d you get?”
I’ve come to a rather unsettling realization—I have no idea what I am doing.
With an eclectic assortment of vegetables sprawled out in front of us, we were told: write. The rough edges of the ginger snapped at some while others were fascinated by the sheer size of the turnip, later to be dubbed a cliché alliteration of the name Timmy the Turnip. All the while, I sat in this creative writing class of a mere ten students, staring at a blank page inundated with possibilities, reveling in the lost art of imagination.
My first moments at Duke are documented by a blurry photo of the Keohane fire lane. Taken on impulse as an oh-so-eager freshman looking to preserve his first memories of Duke, the photo is dated August 4, 2013, marking when I came to participate in the pre-orientation program Project Search. Although seemingly mundane, it is a memento of the transformation Duke has brought into my life in just this past year.
The student-led retreat program Common Ground facilitates discussions of core aspects that forge students’ identities.