Sometimes I dim my computer screen and meander down the streets of my hometown via the panoramic lens of Google Street View. This is a pathetic confession, I know, but also an unexpected remedy for the occasional pangs of nostalgia.
Every Monday we would crack the spine of our “Handwriting Without Tears” workbooks, an artifact of early 2000s elementary school curriculum, a time when public schools could still afford such luxuries. While these cursive primers generally honored their promise of dry eyes, the exercise of tracing dotted lines instead of keystrokes was contentious.
A few days ago, I saw a man rollerblading while pushing a stroller with a golden retriever trailing behind on a leash. The spectacle looked like an American Ninja Warrior audition. As I watched the feat from across the street, I considered the skill of this man completing his Saturday morning to-do list while balancing on eight wheels.
For a population that bears the seemingly perpetual stress of finding a place to live near campus, it is curious how college students have such wanderlust for the world beyond. The evidence is glaring: World map tapestries draped across dorm room walls, screens of people lustfully googling flights during lectures and laptop stickers with cliché adventure quotes.
File away those fun facts. Time to forget your “two truths and a lie.” And cherish the fact you won’t have to participate in another team building exercise involving a hula hoop. We have officially survived peak icebreaker period. Breathe.
I know I am not supposed to say this, but most of the books I have bought recently have not been finished. My nightstand has become a graveyard for abandoned literature.
I read a few chapters of “The Idiot” because I fell in love with the millennial pink jacket cover. After watching Amy Cuddy’s TED Talk I found myself downloading her book “Presence.” And I even tried reading “An American Marriage” because Oprah Winfrey said I should.
There are certain places I tend to avoid when I return to my hometown after a year away at college. The notorious town watering holes: June graduation parties, the grocery store on Sunday evenings, Starbucks. These three places can all be classified by their likelihood of neighborhood small talk, typically conversations that often prompt questions concerning my own college experience.
Through internal means, fraternities and sororities at the University of Michigan have been attempting to address issues of diversity, equity and inclusion, but face an obstacle in obtaining buy-in from across all four Greek life councils.
It is Wednesday, and there will be at least three University of Michigan graduates wearing pink. Ashley Park, Taylor Louderman and Erika Henningsen, all graduates from the School of Music, Theatre & Dance, are starring in the Broadway musical adaptation of the hit 2004 teenage comedy “Mean Girls.”
Visual and written art expressions created by about 45 University of Michigan students and faculty were displayed in Rackham Graduate School Friday evening for the Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Center’s art exhibition “rEVOLUTION: Making Art for Change.”
The event was founded by a former SAPAC volunteer in 2006 as part of her senior honors thesis. Years later, SAPAC’s Survivor Empowerment and Ally Support Program continues to organize the art show as a platform for the University community to address issues including sexual violence, gender and sexism.