It’s that time of year again. No, it’s not time to go apple picking, carve a pumpkin, or even be thankful for our friends and family. In many ways, we’ve skipped past that. Instead, Boston College students went straight to spending our time talking about housing plans for next year.
The other day, my friends and I brainstormed the next big thing. The next Sillybandz, the next Fruit Ninja, the next hoverboard or Flappy Bird or air fryer. To no one’s surprise, though, we couldn’t think of anything. “Everything already exists,” we said.
I have always found conversation—both the meaningful and mundane—fascinating. I think there is beauty in it and an art form to it, even in small talk.
There is no harm in just simply saying hi. You actually never know if it just might make somebody’s day. So, start greeting people this semester.
I have always been an extremist. In my opinions, beliefs, and actions, I have long thought that it’s all or nothing. I can’t semi-like brussels sprouts. I either like to eat them or I don’t.
As the school year comes to a close, I think it is time to finally share some of the Boston College hot takes that have accumulated in the back of my mind over the past two years.
When we act as deipnosophists, we understand the importance of talking during a meal. We take what is already great about food—both the comforting and symbolic aspects—and make it better by adding meaning to the otherwise casual, surface-level conversation.
It’s a principle we can apply to anything, including studying. Just because it is an economics principle doesn’t mean it is exclusive to economics. Eventually, there comes a point where we lose focus—where there is nothing more we can possibly do.
What happens when you take the smartest and most privileged kids from around the world and put them under one roof? World peace? No, actually it’s almost exactly the opposite—you get competition.
The flashing card game on my screen would teach me lessons the unit circle never could: solitaire taught me to accept failure.
