Don’t get me wrong, I adore our campus, worship its magnificent architecture, and feel at home in its welcoming community. But sitting in the same chair at O’Neill Library for the umpteenth time, walking down the path that toes the line between familiar and repetitive, I find myself seeking something new.
There is something deeply soothing about uncomfortability.
Through challenging my insecurities head-on, I’ve grown to derive more fun from the things that I used to hold myself back from in fear. Seeing each interaction as “for the bit” makes life so much more interesting.
Despite their shiny, high-tech exterior, the pervasion of checkout kiosks throughout several of Boston College’s on-campus eateries is creating congestion, discouraging human connection, and damaging these key communal spaces.
In the modern, superficial, forever-online world that always wants to sell you something, nostalgic tech is a rare breed: it is offline, it is permanent, and it is plain. Nostalgic devices are not simply reliable machines or shiny baubles in the consumer rat race.
Upon returning to the Heights earlier this semester, students near and far were left in shock when they realized that the beloved chicken parm presser had been removed from Eagles Nest.
For Harris, the Sept. 10 debate was more like an audition. It was the first time many American voters had seen her in an unscripted setting since the 2020 vice-presidential debate, aside from several poorly received interviews during her time as vice president.
Whether you’re a Christian, a member of a different religion, or skeptical of faith as a whole, you have to actively and intentionally engage with the unique Jesuit, Catholic spiritual tradition that defines our school to fully grasp the Boston College experience.
“And how would you like that prepared?” I ask with a gleaming smile. She pauses, shutters, and lets out an impatient yet staunch, “Cooked please.” I fight the urge to crumble as my stomach drops.
“Is that a Canada Goose?”
“Um, no, it’s not.”
“Oh good! I don’t know if I could speak to you again if it were.”
Freshman year, it felt almost impossible not to compare everything about my college life to the college lives of my friends at other schools. From classes to dining halls and dorm decor to social life, I found myself constantly comparing and contrasting my experiences with the experiences of others, trying to anxiously convince myself that I lived a life just as fun and fulfilling as my friends’.
