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Today, I made a new friend. His name is Perry, and he is a little inchworm I found traversing one of the tables outside of the Divinity School Refectory. I decided I would join him for the duration of my lunchtime indulgence. He didn’t much like the mesh landscape of the table, but preferred the solid perimeter instead—hence the name Perry.
When one considers the brevity of humanity’s existence within the Earth’s lifespan, it really hasn’t been very long since we discovered fire and used leaves as toilet paper. There is an old saying that goes, “We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand,” but when we take into account how life was like in the old days, we are at such an unbelievable advantage today it’s unreal.
If there ever was a time that I would consider myself a full-time student, it would be this semester. And, by full-time, I mean all the time. Unfortunately, starting next week, my course load will be getting a bit lighter. I must say, though, that it’s a relief to finally be making a pit stop from the struggle bus.
For those of you who have had the pleasure of knowing me, you might agree that I’m not the most excitable person on the planet. When I caught wind of the fact that Chance the Rapper would be performing at P-Checks, however, I became exuberant. The air was filled with obscenities, my monotone voice achieved variable tonality and staying seated no longer became a viable option. Indeed, the hype was real.
Last Friday was a day I spent loving to hate my life—pretty ironic for a Valentine’s Day.
To quote Albert Einstein: “Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.” But Einstein was indeed a self-motivated man, driven by his thirst for knowledge and desire to invent. Self-motivation is a fundamental aspect of Duke students, and it is an essential skill in achieving success in such a competitive environment. But by the same token, maintaining healthy relationships with others is just as important, in nearly all aspects of life.
Following my last meal at The Loop, I had a debilitating case of the tummy rumblies. Not at all the best way to kick off the semester, but it happens to the best of us, I suppose. It’s pretty scary to think that one poorly crafted meal can ruin your whole day. But it’s even scarier to think that each one of our life choices holds tremendous weight on our future.
While this semester may very well be the hardest I’ve worked in my life, my current grades can hardly speak on my behalf. Regardless of the effort I put in, it all seems so worthless. And even when I did my problem sets and weekly assignments, my grip on the material seemed to fade away just in time for the next midterm. What was I doing wrong?
On Sept. 20, 1994, baby Bryan burst onto the scene into the world of consciousness and earthly delights. Turns out, baby Bryan was as white as snow, both to my surprise and perhaps yours.
Duke is hard. Like, really hard. And as my pre-med aspirations grow closer to extinction, I’m still fighting to keep the dream alive. But lately I’ve been at my wit’s end; my limitations grow more tangible with each passing day, and my willpower is running dry. And the more I become engrossed in my studies, the less I seem to be content with the way everything is going. Most regrettably, I have been turning a blind eye to the things I enjoy most. So I’m changing my priorities this semester—I’m prioritizing happiness.
This semester, by far, has been the most taxing semester I have had at Duke to date. But, contrary to what you may be thinking, it’s not because of the rigorous workload. The real reason is because I have no idea what I want to do with my life.
During my first year at Duke, I ripped through my food points faster than Spongebob did his trousers. But as we all well know, our dining options have been rather lackluster as of late. And while The Marketplace may have left a bad taste in my mouth, our viable food choices may soon turn sour.
For the latter half of my life, I had denied the existence of an otherworldly power. For over a decade, this has been my reality—yet, as of this summer, I came to the decision to let Him back into my life. For a long time, I convinced myself that I would never explore my spirituality. Ever. But I did a lot of thinking over the summer, and in time I developed a rapidly growing interest in Islam. I discovered a beauty in Islam that simply cannot be quantified; I admire the message of love that it teaches a great deal, and I am newly awe-stricken by stories both past and present. Yet the surrounding culture seemed so distant to me, and I hadn’t a clue where to begin in truly understanding it all.
Oh, Aristocrat. Dearest Aristocrat! How you have wetted the throats of dozens upon dozens of Dukies on nights aplenty! When the clock thrusts both hands northward, we heed thy call. Yes—for even the most strong-willed of bachelors—it is, indeed, hard to resist the Crat’s meow. I, however, am a man of principle. The Crat will not consume me, nor will I consume it. For me, there is another beverage I find far more intoxicating: tea.
As a high school junior just two years ago, I had barely scraped the surface of understanding the college admissions process. My naiveté was my own doing, of course, and soon enough I would be flipping through the newest edition of the “Fiske Guide to Colleges” hoping to get an idea of what was out there. Among the four colleges I hand-picked from the book happened to be good ole Duke, and all received thorough examinations through College Prowler, among various other online sources. From what I gathered, I was able to conclude that Duke was a pretty good school in many respects. But whenever I thought about Duke, there would be this phrase that struck me time and again: hook-up culture.
