Boston College track and field has been on a generational run. But somehow, nobody knows about it. On a campus with a fan culture dominated by revenue sports like football, basketball, and hockey, it’s unsurprising that track and field has been excluded from the hype.
It’s hard not to feel cynical in 2024, as digital alerts about climate change and wars and migrants and mental illness all pump into our brains like water against an unstable dam. Amid this doom and gloom, we ought to acknowledge we do not live in the “the Darkest Timeline,” as joked about by the cult classic NBC sitcom Community.
I have read The Hobbit so many times that I lost count of the rereads sometime around eighth grade. Even though I never use this as my fun-fact icebreaker (for fear of coming off a bit too nerdy a bit too soon), it is without a doubt my favorite truth about myself.
On the other hand, I merely wanted a weekend away from campus and an excuse not to study. I didn’t see the point in discussing personal issues with people I’d just met and seeing how the saddest moments in my life stacked up against others’.
3 p.m. on a Monday marked my first ever class at Boston College, and as it turns out, the same went for professor Maria Bejan. She stood before nearly 300 eager students in her smart pants, boots, and statement necklace, introduced herself with a smile, and dove headfirst into her Principles of Economics course. Huddled in my second-row seat, I felt a wave of admiration and sympathy for my new teacher.
I have always thought of myself as a decent student. While I was certainly never the girl with color-coded notes, assignment spreadsheets, or pre-planned study schedules, I knew how to work hard. I was intimately familiar with my own capabilities, and I knew that I could walk away with a grade that I was happy with if I applied enough effort when necessary. And for all intents and purposes, this system worked well … for high-school me.
Yesterday a friend said, “I have to become ‘adult me.’ I’ll never be this way again.” I rushed to say, “You’re still you though!” If we see graduating and whatever comes after that as the end of who we are, we do ourselves a disservice. I would hate to see my life peak at 21 years old. Wouldn’t you?
The mid-semester rut is upon us, from midterm season to the frigid air enveloping our surroundings. You can feel the panic, anxiety, and stress that comes with the seemingly never-ending “midpoint of the semester.” The unavoidable chaos it brings can make it hard to take a deep breath.
As Boston College students, we possess an unyielding mentality to do things that we might not want to do because everyone else is doing them. Our mob mentality makes us social climbers rather than true friends.
I used to think closure could only be achieved through deep conversations and attempts to understand one another, like the dramatic scenes you see in movies. Admittedly, I have seen too many of these examples and may need to touch grass more often. My experiences never go down in the typical Hollywood fashion.
