Washington, D.C. is the most powerful city in the world. For two hundred years it has been a destination for those who want to make a difference in the world. The history you read about in textbooks, the debates you watch on the news – it all happens here.
Last year, I was approached by Dr. Islam, the chair of our English department with an opportunity to help out at our Academic Support Center (ASC) as a writing tutor. At the time, I was a student in her Advanced Fiction Writing Workshop, stressing out somewhat over the lengthy draft of the short story I owed her, extremely honored that she thought I would be a good fit.
This week, I made the tearful decision that me and my Netflix account needed to take a break (he was getting waaaaaayyyyy too clingy). Finding myself suddenly without my go-to entertainment venue, I needed to branch out. I decided to embrace my inner high-society aristocrat and partake in one of life’s richer, finer activities. I dressed in my finest shawls, packed my comically sized binoculars, and asked the driver to saddle up my best horse, for I, ladies and gentlemen, was off to the theatre.
Last year, as a lowly freshman, I found myself on a Friday night sitting around a table in the caf with my floor. Searching around for something to do one girl mentioned a “Hippie Fair” in Boise. So we decided to go. It turned out to be the Hyde Park Street Fair, and we all had a great time eating ice cream and getting airbrush tattoos.
I had never heard about the concept of the "Freshman Fifteen" until about a week before I arrived to C of I as an actual freshman. All you ever really hear about before you get to school are the positive things, like how many new friends you're going to make, or how awesome that degree will look framed on your wall. I can't think of any promotional material I read before entering college that explained this phenomenon of how most freshmen will gain at least 15 pounds of weight their first year at school.
When time travel finally becomes real, the very first thing I am going to do is prevent twerking from becoming a thing. But, the second thing I am absolutely going to do is run in on the day of my birth, right before my parents hold me up to the viewing public (Lion King style) and announce my name, to tell them that the name they just came up with for their baby girl is bad and that they should feel bad. And ashamed.
Did you see a lot of black-clothed people – some with glow sticks, some without – running around campus on Saturday night? Do you, perhaps live in Anderson and had some of those same black-clothed people pound on your door? If so, you witnessed Fugitive, an awesome experience that the Campus Ministries puts on. Fugitive is a game where there are cops and fugitives, and the fugitives had to get from point A to point B without getting caught by the cops.