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 end of October is a flurry of excitement. Midterms are coming to a close, fall is (almost) in full swing, and Halloween is just around the corner. With the holiday falling on a Thursday this year, one pressing question has been circulating campus: when is Hallo-weekend?
Anywhere from 20,000 to 150,000 people have been killed. No one knows for sure because it’s impossible to get enough reliable data. Over 7,500,000 people have been displaced—on top of the 2,800,000 in the country that were already displaced before this war.
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.
The Bretton Woods Agreement, which followed the Allies’ victory over the Nazis, established new international monetary systems, placing the U.S. dollar as the world’s reserve currency.
“What are your hobbies?” For pretty much my entire life, my answer to the classic icebreaker has been reading. It’s been one of my only reliable means of relaxation for as long as I can remember—the collection of books spilling off my shelves can attest as much.
At the top of the page in big black lettering read “Hardey Hall Room 316.” Hands shaking, I plugged Hardey Hall into Google and was met with the result that no incoming freshman wants: Newton Campus. Cue the devastation.
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.
