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Among the unending items we fact-check, spell-check, grammar-check and style-check at the mighty copy desk are the names of University of Michigan officials, guest speakers, Ann Arbor residents and students. Names are easy.

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Hot air wafts from the oven in the kitchen of Linder Cooperative House, which looks semi-industrial with steel gray appliances. A hooded stove and two picnic benches tucked under a wooden table back into the far right corner of a chipping, bright orange wall.

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I was never much of a teenager. It’s not as if I wasn’t a student; it was that I was absent so much — literally away from Northbrook, at debate tournaments once or twice a month, over the weekends — that I never felt as if I was really a member of my community.

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Recently, a panicky feeling has been lingering in the back of my mind. I’m entering the last semester of my undergraduate education, and I don't know what I want to do when that's over.

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“Why even drink coffee if you’re gonna just have decaf?” I could probably buy my own coffee shop if I had a dollar for the number of times someone has asked me this.

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For 84 years, a football game arguably more exciting than the NCAA game it precedes has brought excitement to tailgaters and alumni on homecoming weekend.

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At a May meeting of the Ypsilanti City Council, Amy Xue Foster — a Chinese-born, Troy-based businesswoman — proposed an ambitious project to construct a glittering high-end apartment complex on a patch of dilapidated industrial land.

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When I was 14, it felt as if someone suddenly hung a strobe light over me. It refused to budge and followed me everywhere, the light piercing. I felt I was constantly glanced at, scrutinized and judged by everyone. I was wrong, but I didn’t know it back then.

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I did this to myself. I have no one else to blame but yours truly.

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