Finding home
Going home feels kind of weird.
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Going home feels kind of weird.
“Nor shall any man's entreaty prevail upon me to administer poison to anyone; neither will I counsel any man to do so.”
Gone are the days of glamorous Hollywood starlets and their suave leading men. Modern film and television shy away from tired, old clichés and archetypal characters. As society becomes more aware—more conscious—we see these attitudes reflected in our media. Today’s narratives have evolved to be increasingly down-to-earth, depicting raw struggles and inciting thoughtful reflection. Even our fantasy and superhero movies now adopt a more genuine style, with relatable heroes, witty conversational banter, and hyper-realistic special effects filling in gaps in legitimacy. We praise authenticity. We crave real stories.
I’ve been asking myself this question a lot lately. As exams pass, semesters roll by and internship applications open and close, the light at the end of the undergraduate tunnel gets closer and closer. And along with it, so does the scary reality of the future beyond Duke.
To all coffee shop baristas, late-night food deliverers and boys in loud, grimy clubs— I’ve been lying to you.
Lately I’ve been wondering if I’m getting dumber.
Boobs. Jennifer Lawrence. Kate Upton.
Welcome to campus, new and returning Devils. The beginning of a new semester is a fresh start—a time to set unrealistic goals about procrastination, food point budgeting and alcohol intake. Above all, it’s a time to look forward to your upcoming year at Duke.
I always tell my dad he should write a book. You know those people who take mundane tasks, like grocery shopping, and turn them into opportunities for preaching life lessons? That’s my dad. He’s full of advice and—lucky me—I’m usually the recipient.
I was sold on my first visit to Duke. I fell in love with the scenic campus and the magnificent Gothic architecture.
When I think of summer, I think of sandy hair, shaved ice, tan lines and home.