Her words hit me like a shovel. I was so taken aback. I had never heard the season of summer be used as a verb.
Looking out over the quieted Upper Campus below and the humblingly beautiful sky above him, it’s sunsets like this that he knows he’ll miss next semester.
It’s a Saturday night at Boston College, and the freshman returns to his dorm, triumphantly still a little bit drunk from the off-campus party he attended for all of 19 minutes. Upon entering his building, however, he is caught in the middle of a smokescreen.
Sometimes, the cliché narrative of popular musicians selling the soul of their artistry to rise to the top of the charts becomes far too evident to ignore.
At around 7:57 p.m. (although the website says 8:00), BC dining closes its doors in Mac. The sliding doors come together prematurely and suddenly, and hungry students hoping to sneak in at the last minute and eat a dinner not consisting of fried foods often have their spirits crushed at the sight of the gray barrier in front of them.
Two years in a row, the Eagles have played North Carolina down to the wire. Both seasons, the Tar Heels have ended up in the national final. Are BC’s moral victories within the ACC legitimate, or are they meaningless?
In the shadow of Fenway Park, there is a venue that offers an escape from the rest of the world. Young people can take refuge from their busy college lives and enter a chamber of carefree spirit and fantastic acoustics.
Truly, they were coming up, and they were going to get this party started.
It’s hard to not be caught up in everything that takes place in the present. It’s what everyone is doing, so it has to be the only thing that matters, right?
Recently, Boston College has lived in the cellar of the ACC, as losing has become more of a norm. Blowouts, close losses, you name it. BC has seen it all.