What You Googled This Week: Green Key Edition
You’ve been hearing those two special words from the moment you stepped on campus: Green. Key.
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You’ve been hearing those two special words from the moment you stepped on campus: Green. Key.
As the prospies swarmed our campus last month, I wondered if they actually were getting anything meaningful from these tours that continued to block my path through Baker-Berry Library. While hustling out of the grim Novack Café scene one day, I #overheard "This is Novack, the inspirational and collaborative hub on campus," and I almost spit out my beyond bland coffee and choked on my over-priced fruit snacks. That statement was almost as accurate as Dick’s House telling a friend she was pregnant because she came in looking for cough drops. So, for all those prospies looking for a ~real~ tour of Dartmouth, here you go:
Although each and every ’21 is wonderfully unique enough to be accepted to Dartmouth, it often seems like the same sets of stock prospies are admitted in every class. Rain or shine, some archetypal prospies are always present at every Dimensions weekend. As you walk around campus the next couple of weeks, keep an eye out for these guys — and consider if you ever were or are one of them.
As you can probably attest to, New England winters can be tough – even for those students who grew up in and around the Northeast. However, sometimes we fail to consider what the cold and snowy winter means for Dartmouth students from the South, who spent years and years getting days off for less than an inch or two of snow. In fact, your very own southern friend just might be finding it extremely hard to cope with the pain and suffering that 17W has brought, despite the lack of actual cold and prodigal amounts of snow. But don’t fret, my friends, for there are ways in which you can ease their winter woes and help them adjust to the concept of a real winter season.
Winter can be a tough time for everyone – it’s questionably too cold to go out (but everyone does it anyways), definitely too cold to be productive and just cold enough that the ice sticks around and makes all of campus a hazard for treacherous falls. But don’t fret – there are so many ways to put your winter woes behind you and learn to truly ~thrive~ and not just survive 17W!
For freshmen experiencing their first New England winter or people who’ve spent most of their lives somewhere that isn’t the inside of a freezer, adjusting to the Hanover tundra can be challenging without the right equipment. However, contrary to popular belief, it is indeed possible to stay warm without blowing a thousand dollars on a Canada Goose jacket (all of which could be used to purchase approximately 80.1 large EBA’s single-topping pizzas). Here’s what you’ll really need to brave the cold:
When I found this song, it had 3 views on YouTube, and I have probably (unashamedly) contributed more than half of the current views it now has. It was written by the NH Love Song Warriors, a group that sings of the lovely ladies of Hanover, as well as the women of various New Hampshire and Massachusetts towns and cities.
"It’s so funny how everyone’s totally comfortable telling people they have food poisoning, and everyone pretty much knows what they’re talking about, but no one can ever just say they have diarrhea." This observation came around week two of the term, when roughly two-thirds of our group had fallen at the hands (fins? hooves?) of meat purchased from open-air markets. (Europe, you invented refrigeration. Use it.) However, as the term went on, I found it became a particularly apt metaphor for my experience abroad as a whole. Stick with me.
"Lauren's mood swings are like a box of chocolates—a gift that you didn’t ask for that will sometimes reward you sweetly but will mostly disappoint you and leave a bad taste in your mouth," most of my friends and close family members said, probably.
Dear Diary: Wow, what a day! Today I went to the beach and frolicked in my cute new bikini and put my toes in the Mediterranean and made my awesome new friend take super adorable pictures of me the whole time! The sky was blue and the sand was warm and I was almost able to forget that I had spent the entire night prior sobbing uncontrollably, nauseous from the thought of going to class the next day and frantically texting my mother (because no one else would listen to me) using WiFi I had to pay for.
After a stressful and jam-packed winter term, most Dartmouth students look forward to relaxing and spending quality time with friends and family over spring break. But in practice, we spend two weeks doing the exact opposite. How can you relax when there are pictures to be posted and general #FOMO to be spread? Don’t you feel so much ~*WaNdErLuSt*~ looking at your Facebook friends’ 16SprangBreak photos? Unfortunately, not all of us can take fabulous vacations like Sevelyn Gat. So this spring break, I decided to take Dartbeat readers with me on my trip to the world’s most cliché beautiful travel destinations:
Week nine in New York was shaped largely by “Hamilton” (2015) – the Broadway musical that you’ve heard of by now if you haven’t been living under a rock that has also crushed you into a paste – and was a major highlight of my off-term thus far. “Hamilton” was every bit as good (if not soundly better) than its reputation suggested. Almost a week after my trip to the Richard Rodgers Theatre, I can still hear bits of the soundtrack echoing around my head, the music living on by its own initiative, without singer or orchestra.
Brown University: Two rugby players, Uzo Okoro and Kiki Morgan, were among 49 players named in a list of potential United States National Team members for 2016, The Brown Daily Herald reported. Okoro and Morgan will have a chance to compete with the national team during the Women’s Rugby World Cup in 2017, following a series of camps and international competitions this summer. This year, Brown’s women’s rugby team held a 5-2 record in the regular season, but fell to Dartmouth in the Ivy League Championship game.
When ordering takeout, it’s the protocol for the employee to ask the customer’s name for their order. The employee that picked up the phone for Ziggy's Pizza knew the rules, but when I told him my name, a surprising amount of confusion ensued:
Wandering into the Sinclairian jungle that is New York after a life in the rural reality of Yankee New England — a place where each house is still known by the names of families that moved away decades ago — can only be called a mammoth experience. This time in the city reminded me of a stanza in John Milton's “Paradise Lost” (1667):
On the morning of Super Bowl 50, knowing I would soon be feasting my eyes on and stuffing my face with everything that makes this country great, I made my way to White River Junction for something a little different. My destination: Tuckerbox Café, a Middle-Eastern restaurant/coffee shop hybrid.
Okay, so obviously there isn’t actually a new pope. That was a stupid joke combining my name with “hope.” This article has nothing to do with the Catholic Church, its leadership or any allegories written by Oxford dons lambasting its values and practices (Although did you hear they’re making a miniseries of the “His Dark Materials” trilogy? Isn’t that wildly exciting? No? Just me? Okay). So here’s what this post is actually about: Living in New York City—the City That Never Apples, The Big Sleep—has given me a different perspective on life at Dartmouth. Now that I am “beyond the bubble,” things up at school just don’t seem quite as, well, important.
I woke up a little late on Sunday. Okay, more than a little late. I woke up and it was lunchtime, the later end of lunchtime. But I woke up with a smile on my face because I knew I was about to order takeout from Big Fatty's BBQ. Ten minutes later I was on the phone, and I said something I thought I would never hear myself say: "I’d like a Fatty Daddy to go, please." Aside from my fear that someone overheard me asking for something called a Fatty Daddy, I knew it was going to be a good afternoon.
As TV’s Alison Brie once bitingly said, "Well, well, well, Harvey Keitel." Entering my second month in the city, I find that I’m missing Hanover more and more. My homesickness was massively exacerbated by the Geisel-authored snowball fight blitz (It’s hard to have a snowball fight when all the snow is entirely liquid, to use the Bristol stool chart’s terminology).
It was a slow day at Sunrise Buffet in Lebanon. How slow? Only one other table was occupied, and sitting there was a single employee cutting the ends off green beans. I didn't mind, though. The lack of patrons gave me free reign over the buffet. I felt like a king.