Goodbyes are always hard, something I was reminded of when some this week’s writers, namely the seniors on The Mirror staff, kept Blitzing me with their writer’s block woes. Of course, my original idea was to publish a roast of the Class of 2008 — all of the graphics would have been in flames, and it would have been beautiful. Ideas of conceptual art were brainstormed: We could tell you to make the issue into an effigy of that senior boy who never Blitzed you back and burn it, and maybe, in a gesture of fond farewell, scatter its ashes over the Green — the symbolic death of college. But despite its lack of avant garde brilliance, ultimately it was decided that giving our seniors a platform to bid the campus adieu would be more appropriate.
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Jennifer Garfinkel
When our editor told us that the last Mirror spread of the year would be dedicated to the ruminations of our graduating contributors, she also told us that she wanted to avoid us all being overly sentimental. I gladly took up the challenge by heading straight for bitter and cynical instead. As a wise and all-knowing senior, I now present to you the top 10 things I won’t miss about college. In no particular order, they are:
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So there I was, at a complete loss as to what to write about for my last Mirror column ever. I could have made it emotional and nostalgic, but that would be useless. Since no one ever reads my columns anyway, no one is nostalgic but me (and I was too frustrated by writer’s block to be very nostalgic at the moment). I could have tried to write about my favorite “Mirror moments,” but I’m afraid that wouldn’t fill up two paragraphs. I could make a post-modernist statement, saying everything by writing nothing, but my editor would kill me.
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About two weeks ago, the telltale signs started pouring in from my friends at other schools: Facebook status updates, phone calls, e-mails, all conveying the same message. Across the country, the Class of 2008 is graduating.
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Well friends, I’m not very good with the whole “later, ‘tater” talk. I get all up in the mushiness like the sappy heroine of a Danielle Steele novel (the non-sexy sections). Or I brace myself against all emotion, devolving into awkward morning-after Blitz lingo: “So, um, that was fun. Can I get my belt back?”
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If love is a battlefield, then there is no better war zone than our beloved Green Key. This past Sunday, the warpath could be seen across campus, in trails of broken glass, crumpled beer cans and condom wrappers. The casualty count is high: a cell phone drowned in gorf, a D-card submerged under a mountain of breadsticks and EBAs marinara sauce, fallen soldiers littering fraternity couches and rugs. Around 2 p.m., the few straggling survivors trudge back to the home front, the defeated march of a Greek army still shamefully donning togas from three nights prior.
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By Amy Davis
I am against blind dates for formals. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why not take the risk? Why be so cautious, so boring? But the thing is, I’m not against blind dates for formals because they might go poorly. I’m against them because they might go well.
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Notice the ties and heels running through campus at around 4 p.m. lately? How about the school buses departing around 5:30 p.m. with clientele decidedly older than the usual seven to 11 year-old range? Formal season is upon us, and Bates is bringing in big bucks thanks to the fine fraternities and sororities of Dartmouth College.
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I know it’s early to start thinking about this, but since it’s May and the seniors are on the last leg of their Divas Live 2004-esque farewell tour, I have started to feel like an old man. Before I know it, it’s going to be the end of the summer and a few weeks before my senior year. Because of all of the nostalgia running through my brain these days, I have begun to think about what I would do differently if I were given another shot at college. I have very few regrets, but if a few things had gone differently I think my time here at Dartmouth would have gone from “great” to “unbelievable.”
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Yes, video killed the radio star, but the Internet killed copyright infringement laws and artist royalties.
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The days are growing longer, and the trees are growing fuller. Fenced lawns covered with that blue, chunky hydro-seed gunk are gradually welcoming grass. Green Key has passed by. All of this means that Dartmouth students are on the brink of summer. Though friends from home are done with class, we’re still up here in Hanover gearing up for finals. Torturous.
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Ian Tapu ‘08 was selected to lead his class at Commencement as one of eight 2008 class marshals. And given his outlook and involvement (we would list all of his extracurriculars here, but we don’t have enough ink), it’s easy to see why. This multitalented campus leader attributes more than his multiracial background to his family: Ian credits his mother for his success and unique perspective.
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‘11 Boy [at the Hop]: I want to get Schroedinger’s Equation tattooed on my back.
‘11 Friend: For what? Hydrogen?
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