Student Experience Blog: all

I am Grateful for...

One afternoon last week, I decided to tackle some homework. I made my way to the upstairs of KAIC and bunkered down for a few hours or so. In midst of balancing chemical equations I was suddenly hit in the face with a flying object. The pain inflicted on my forehead was by...a Reese's peanut butter cup? I was irritated. I was confused. I was…hungry? I glanced around and my eyes fell on a woman who I had never seen before.

Let's Taco Bout It

I’ve never reached enlightenment. At least, I’m not sure I have. One time, I realized the machine that returns bowling balls blows air so you can dry the sweat off your hands, giving you a better grip when you roll that gutter ball. But, when I went to share this finding, everyone seemed to already know.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t even close to being an enlightened moment. Like I said, I’ve never reached it.

That is, until I ate an Imelda’s taco.

Haunted Ghost Stories of C of I

Warning: I am attempting to write in a spooky fashion. It will either be incredibly frightening--in which case, keep the lights on--or just another thing you read while waiting for another page to load. Like Netflix or something. Either way, thanks for reading.

In the spirit of Halloween, I would like to tell you about some spirits (it is okay if you were not prepared for that joke. It’s kind of a work in progress). Gather round your computer screen, unknown reader, because I’ve got some scary ghost stories.

All About Atmosphere

Imagine this: It’s a Friday afternoon. Soft gray clouds are calmly floating along, taking a brief intermission between answering rain dances. You’re a fledgling workaholic, trying to stay afloat in a semester of chasing transient moments of serenity that sleep between deadlines, and you’re feeling that you need another fix; that the weekend is coming a bit too soon.

Let me say one thing: The Bird Stop.

Election Season in D.C.

Last spring, one of my good friends who was once a political economy major told me that Washington D.C. is the equivalent of Hollywood for people in our area of study. I imagine that in similar ways to Hollywood, D.C. is mostly a mythology. There are many ways that Washington D.C. is different from how I expected it to be, despite the time I've spent studying about the area.

Freshman Mid Term Survival Guide

Depending on when this is published, it is almost that time of year again. It’s time to consume a staggering amount of caffeine, sleep a clinically indefensible amount, and test the bounds of your immune system as a thick, sweaty wave of stress and despair floods over the campus.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

I entered college with a couple goals. Amongst them was gaining a mentor. Many of my first classes consisted of silent judgement toward professors, deciding whether or not they were mentor material. One fated day, I made my decision in the form of a classy journalist: Alan Minskoff.

Not so Naked, but (a little) Afraid

Two weeks ago 11 daring students (myself included) were dropped off in the remote and rugged lands of Stanley, Idaho. Carrying nothing but selfie sticks and high spirits, the scantily clad pack of undergraduates forged miles into the depths of the forest. Tears were shed. Tensions were had. It was man versus wild. For the few that made it out alive, these are their stories:

Welcome to the Jungle

After spending a portion of summer in Southeast Asia, a typical Idahoan would opt for a less busy and less humid fall setting. Not wanting to be accused of being a typical Idahoan, I volunteered to don a suit in the swamps of the District of Columbia and jam myself into sweaty, crowded public transport during the first semester of my senior year. 

Advice You Never Asked For

The first and only feeling I had when I stepped onto campus my freshmen year was fear.

Not only was the college a completely new place, but I also was moving into a stranger-filled dorm from another state. Every situation was unfamiliar, from sharing a room with somebody to sleeping on a twin sized bed (I’m a privileged white girl, I sleep on a queen).

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