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I remember one time during my senior year in high school when I was playing pickup basketball with some friends. I pulled off a fancy cross-over move and made a layup to win the game. During the ensuing celebration, one guy on the opposing team came up to me and said, "Dude, that move was sick."
During my most recent attack of fear about life after graduation, I decided to check out the Career Center web site and stumbled upon the resume section.
I'm just going to put it out there: I love the History Channel. As I write, it's 3:30 a.m. and I'm still in front of the television watching a story on British engineering in the nineteenth century. I would be hard pressed to find a topic that sounded more boring, but I'm completely hooked.
A Chinese woman came up to me at the bus stop the other day and said, "I look big art building." After a long silence, I told her I didn't understand.
One of my favorite distractions from doing homework is intricately planning the next few years of my life. Since freshman year, I've spent countless hours on ACES writing down every class that I want to take during my entire career at Duke. I've explored majors, minors, certificates, independent studies, leaves of absence, transferring, dropping out of school entirely and staying in Durham for a fifth year, all in the course of one night when I had a midterm paper due the next day.
I went out to Los Angeles to visit my sister for Fall Break. I made sure to bring all of my good clothes and a nice pair of shoes so I would blend in easily. It didn't take me long to realize, however, that by wearing a polo shirt tucked into a pair of khakis, I wasn't fitting in at all.
I was running around East last week and I saw a woman fall flat on her face. Her glasses went flying and she skidded a good five feet across the pavement. I was unable to control myself and I burst out laughing. She stood up, looked around, dusted herself off and continued on her way. I don't think she even knew I saw her.
A few days ago, I got on the bus exhausted from a hard day of classes. Luckily, I stumbled upon the last remaining seat and collapsed into it. I looked up and noticed a girl walking down the aisle, scanning for an open place to sit.
On the first day of the semester, I arrived five minutes early to my poetry class and found that two individuals were already waiting in the room. I was eager to prove to them how friendly I could be, so I immediately struck up a conversation. Both informed me that they were fellow English majors, which gave me an immediate sense of relief.
