As the first hints of a Southern autumn began to creep onto the glimpses of burnt oranges and overcast grays, Emory University saw its campus flourish in a sea of blue. When the university’s student government executive board urged individuals to wear blue on Oct. 6, the initiative blossomed throughout campus. Blue bed sheets hung from windows, and several Emory students passed out free shirts they had spent the previous night stenciling by hand. Greek organizations soon took the charge — several fraternities covered their windows in blue crepe paper, and sororities painted their windows blue, with messages of support across them. “We stand together,” read one window, its blue and white color scheme accentuating the Star of David in the center of a heart.
A letter is circulating among faculty members advocating for the abolishment of the Greek system. This isn’t the first time faculty have taken a stance — we examined previous votes faculty have taken on the matter as well as other letters and petitions they have distributed. Faculty may call a vote on the issue at the upcoming faculty meeting on Nov. 3. History may indeed be repeating itself.
When you came to Dartmouth, you probably brought your backpack, notebooks and pillow. Did you know you also brought your tool kit?
Born and raised in Houston, Texas, coming to Dartmouth was a big step for me. Most of the people in my neighborhood did not have the slightest clue that this college even existed. I had never done anything related to the outdoors, and I felt silly for not knowing the purpose of half the equipment I had just taken from the Robo basement. By the end of it all, however, I fell in love with the Lodge.
If there’s one lesson “Mean Girls” taught me, it’s how to do Halloween like a champ — just add animal ears. This rule of thumb has brought me consistent success (recent hits include “sexy cat” and “sexy Mickey Mouse from ‘Fantasia’”) but my overwhelming lack of creativity just doesn’t do it for everyone, and I get that. On Halloween, we dress to scare, amuse and impress, sometimes all at once, and the rules that dictate our daily attire disappear.
An important woman in my life once told me that “minor distinctions make the man” — a token aphorism whereby she justified her ceaseless vituperation of others, often me, for transgressing upon “Good Style” so criminally as to put prepositions at the ends of sentences (something up with which she simply could not put). “Fitzgerald said that,” she said, after saying it herself two or three times. “He always had his suits tailored at Brooks Brothers, you know.”