I would give so much to be able to share one more brownie sundae, to steal one more handful of French fries from someone else’s plate, to split one more chocolate chip cookie in half.
We don’t need business-as-usual Duke—we need more flexibility, more grace, more reminders that our academic productivity isn’t more important than our ability to survive.
I fear that Zoom will be added to the list of problems historically caused by overzealous administrative reform. I may as well attempt to send a signal of resistance now, rather than after the changes become part of some plan.
How do you mourn for a moment, a memory?
There’s a quote that I like from Luke Farrell’s Department Of Interview last year. Department Of asks him, “Fill in the blank: You know you’re a Duke student if...” He responds, “Uh, um, you pretend to be an extrovert.”
Sure, there were fleeting moments of personal gratification, but in the Duke environment I was fixated on external indicators of success. I wasn’t asking myself if what I was doing made me fulfilled.
I’ve always craved glory. My dream is to become a meme, or, better, to have someone make a hologram of me performing a duet with someone unspeakably famous. Like Tupac.
I’ve found myself feeling unfulfilled due to the fact that I no longer have anything concrete in the near future to look forward to. Now, I’m left to analyze how we, as a generation, think about the future.
It is easy to treat Duke as a brand, as a soulless entity devoid of any personal touch. But if this crisis has proven anything to us, it is that Duke is made up of individuals–wonderful, supportive, and caring people.
Contrary to popular belief, eating disorders aren’t about vanity—they’re coping mechanisms. And this crisis has stripped us of much of the control we’re used to having.
I think that no matter where you come from or are currently quarantined, there is benefit from more love, grace and acceptance. More active recognition of how small we are in an interconnected, beautifully broken world.
One minute we oppose a sexual predator, and the next moment we’re all supposed to direct our Twitter accounts and outrage against a private research university in Durham, North Carolina?
It is pretty hard to have sex with someone who's at least six feet away from you.
I haven’t watched her interview, but I know what she said. I believe Tara Reade.
It feels like the coronavirus is something that we ordinary people can’t do much to impact besides washing our hands diligently and staying home. Passing the days by in quarantine can make us feel like passive, if not powerless, observers—or perhaps hostages.
Last week, for the first time in my life, my parents warned me that my identity might put me in danger and urged me to be careful in public.
Do not forget each other, do not let the bonds of comradery and familiarity wane, do not allow our campus culture to be shattered by this virus.
So you’ve regressed into a vegetative state watching TikTok in bed as you pretend not to hear your mother calling.
At first I thought I might use this time to get in shape, maybe pick up running. But it is currently 30 degrees in Vermont and there is still snow on the ground, so that might have to wait a couple weeks.
It’s easy for Duke students to believe that our lives are exceptions from the rest of the population and that our time is the most valuable thing on Earth. But maybe it isn’t.
