There has been a great deal of justifiable outcry from graduating students with regard to the University of Michigan’s decision to replace a traditional commencement address with a multimedia presentation that stitches together past speeches.
My friends know me to be an inconsistent texter at best, and I readily admit that it’s not my forte. The optimal way to reach me is as simple as it is surprisingly intimate: call.
I’ve always loved phone calls. When I was younger, I memorized my home number — along with those of my grandparents and my great-grandmother (Gammy). Every night, I’d sit in our small breakfast nook, pick up the landline and chat with Gammy. It was meaningful time.
I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately about what I’m going to do after I graduate. At this point, my response is like a reflex: “I’m not sure where I’m working yet, but I’m applying to entry-level production jobs at broadcast news networks in New York City.” If I had a nickel for every time I said some rough iteration of that sentence, I’d have a lot of unused nickels lying around my house. (Why are nickels still a currency?)
Suggestion: listen to Gilbert O’Sullivan’s “Alone Again (Naturally)” as you read for full effect.
A “secret admirer” recently left me a red teddy bear holding a plush heart inscribed with the word “kiss,” along with a note that says they can’t stop thinking about me. True story. I still have no clue who it is. I’m touched (and a bit scared). I hope one of my friends isn’t just screwing with me. I think one of my friends is just screwing with me.
When asked why Sean Spicer, the newly-christened White House Press Secretary, outright lied about the size of the crowd at President Donald Trump’s inauguration, Kellyanne Conway, Counselor to the President, provided a … different perspective.
New Year’s resolutions tend to be notoriously vague and breakable. According to Nielsen, some of the top resolutions include staying fit and healthy, losing weight, enjoying life to the fullest, getting organized and traveling more.
Well folks, I’m a fan of specificity, and in the spirit of this, here is a list of New Year’s resolutions that I hope you’ll find both unambiguous and feasible.
I registered for the final classes of my undergraduate career Wednesday morning, and only as I wrote this sentence did it hit me how odd that is.
Class registration is routine — a twice-a-year activity that, in its mechanical regularity, has become a subtle source of comfort. Class registration means that I’m returning to Ann Arbor, and all that doing so entails. After next semester, my routine will change. That’s jarring.
It’s not just the courses I’ve taken, the papers I’ve written or the all-nighters I’ve pulled.
There have been many “not mys” this week. “Not my campus.” “Not my president.” “Not my country.” You’re all right — these things are not yours. They are ours. We should be concerned by how polarized things seem, and perhaps by how we may be complicit in amplifying that polarization.
My grandmother recently had the opportunity to upgrade her phone. She’s had the same flip phone for years, and during a recent trip to the Verizon store with my father and me, a salesman recommended that she upgrade to an iPhone. She turned to me and asked, “Why would I need this?” My dad chimed in that she could have access to her email account, and the salesman mentioned she’d have far superior texting functionality.
This is the most special time of year in Ann Arbor. The leaves, some of which have begun to fall, are turning the most vibrant shades of autumn. The air is brisk, but not yet to the point where faces feel frozen without hiding beneath tightly wrapped scarves. The sun cuts through it all, delivering waves of warmth that complement and temper the crisp atmosphere. I’m surprised anyone goes to class.