The independent news organization of Duke University
That was when I got it. I still remember the visceral excitement I felt when writing about what I saw, the vicarious emotion that bled through my recording of the postgame interview.
For hours and hours as I drove north on I-95, I desperately grasped for memories like a child catching fireflies, trying to chase and hold onto as many as possible.
To my Chronicle, thank you for allowing me to cover the Duke community and find one within it, too. Thank you for giving me a home.
While I am technically saying goodbye to The Chronicle, this is not the end.
In the main field of Duke Gardens, where the gargantuan stick sculpture used to make its home, there’s a grassy slope under the shade of a magnolia tree.
How many young Duke fans get the chance to grow up and sit courtside at a Duke basketball game in Cameron, and then go into the locker room to interview Grayson Allen or Zion Williamson?
I hate endings. Whether or not the good times have outweighed the bad, something about the finality of last moments will always make me cry.
After only writing about other people for years, it’s not super comfortable to write about myself, much less about me crying. Here we go.
It was my pleasure to participate in this game of telephone for four brief years. So ring ring, V. 116—it’s your time to pick up.
The next time the Class of 2020 is on campus, we won’t be students anymore.
Quarantine has forced me to reflect on my Duke experience too much, too soon. That includes reading back on many of my old columns—one of the few constants of my time here.
When you put up defenses against the discomfort of a broken world, you also cheat yourself out of the opportunity to see its beauty.
It’s crushing that we’ll miss those final moments. No Myrtle Beach. No final glances at the Chapel’s towering spires.
As an expert reporter for The Chronicle, I’ve been assigned to hand in my pen, but I’m not ready to do that.
As an expert reporter for the Chronicle, I was assigned to write this stupid ass puff piece for my last satirical article as Monday Monday.
Now that our worlds are undergoing seismic shifts, we should reevaluate how we have been living life up to this point. What is working and what is not?
Whether you are in person or online, at home or outside, consent remains a basic human right that is necessary for every sexual activity from all parties involved.
I intend to start with a mimosa precisely at 9:00 a.m. so I have time for a full day of despondent moping before crying myself to sleep looking at photos from previous LDOCs.
I wouldn’t tell myself a year ago that it would be the hardest year of her life. But I would tell her this: one day, you will wake up and go for a run, and it will feel like a miracle.
The primary issue with this situation is a lack of open discussion about recreational drug use on our campus.
