When I left California for Rhode Island, I said a permanent goodbye to a world where the people I held dear were amassed in one place. My relationships to them began to take root more in memory than in the present. Meanwhile, my love found new footholds with a sparkling web of college friends, whom ...
On March 9, exactly seven months ago as I started writing this, I opened a Google Doc, titled it “post- lifestyle article (IK),” and began writing something which came to be called “Notes on the Possibility of Home.” The piece walked through ideas I’d collected on what it means to fit into ...
In typical unfortunate October fashion, I’m inundated with due dates and midterms and fighting to keep my head above water. Recently, I washed up on the third floor of List after midnight, sleepily typing out an email to my professor—the studio door was locked, dashing hopes of meeting yet another ...
The word “homesick” implies an illness—the disease of a constant longing to go home. However, this creeping feeling is more reminiscent of a sore muscle. Only when I am especially tired do I feel the tenderness and aches of trying to cling to my life back home.
I was bouncing home along the cobblestones of this beautifully-old college town of ours, Seven Stars baguette in my tote, with just the implication of fall in the cooling air and the first curled leaves underfoot. It was a lovely night. I was ready to happily spend it alone, making garlic bread and ...
Nobody likes to be blissfully enjoying a weekend Ratty lunch only to be met with the sight of someone with whom they have less than pleasant memories. More times than I’m willing to admit, I’ve cursed this school for being too small and side-eyed my friend when we passed a few select people. The ...
At what point do you take a look at your new friend (the one you met in class just a couple of weeks ago) and say: “Want to grab a meal?”
Tick tock, tick tock, make your bed, go to class, click-clack on the keyboard, dinner. Stop, take a breath. See a friend? Hug, catch up, chitchat, chat shit, shit, it’s late and I did no work, click-clack, click-clack click-clack click-clack—there’s laughter outside and I have to chase it!—and ...
TW: sexual harassment
TW: sexual harassment
Being an English and Literary Arts concentrator makes up about 40 percent of my personality. But as soon as classes start, I suddenly forget how to read. Very rarely do I find the time or motivation to pick up a book for leisure.
What sound do your shoes make when they hit the pavement?
Tending to the lawn is a source of pride for some and a burden for others. My younger brother, for one, holds the former sentiment. As the eldest daughter of my family, I managed to escape the duties of mowing the lawn; that honor was bestowed on the son. Classic. When my brother first took on the responsibility, ...
Solutions by The State News
