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A Lesson from a Hat

I remember Meg Ryan’s character in one of my all time favorite movies, You’ve Got Mail, saying of a wayward butterfly, “I believe he was going to Bloomingdale’s to buy a hat, which will turn out to be a mistake, as nearly all hats are.” I recently learned from a particularly unique hat that this is…
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My College Christmas List

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Unless you’re in college. Still, though, Christmas serves as the light at the end of the dark tunnel of finals and juries. While the adult world is out shopping for gifts at the mall, we are on our laptops ordering them through Amazon during lectures. If you…
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The Same Sun

“There is nothing quite like the moment when an idea strikes and you can whip out your notebook and favorite pen and scrawl away for an hour. I’ve been going nonstop for weeks now and was overjoyed to have time to write something other than my 30 page political manifesto. (*cries from post-paper-writing trauma*) Anyway,…
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Italian Lessons

Okay, so the title of this post is a bit misleading. To clarify, I have not taken lessons in speaking Italian and, if I’m being completely honest, my Italian speaking abilities consists of basic greetings, “grazie”, and apologetically smiling and batting my eyes. Oh, and I got pretty good at ordering coffee and gelato. But…
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Untuned
My heart is a violin With strings played to the breaking, And wound so tight I have no breath Since the hour of waking. Still sings my soul, though grown thin So lost among a score, And yearning for familiar rest I failed to love before.
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Affirming Ourselves to Death
Selfishness is nothing new, but it has grown to such enormous proportions that this generation is actually known as the “Entitlement Generation.” The saddest part is that we, the members of this generation, have been deceived into believing that there is nothing wrong with this and even seem to have redefined morality as personal happiness. From birth, we have been spoon-fed on praise,…
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Writing is Hard: A Lament
Writing is hard and I’ll tell you why: I am not the Bard and that makes me cry. Red pens are bloodstains on my poor first draft Despite prep-school refrains about the English “RAFT.” Well, dear school teachers, I must ask you now: Though you seemed to be preachers, I do not know how To find out my…
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