If you were my high school gym teacher, I guess it's fine if you read this.
I have something else to share this morning. I'm only admitting this because I trust all of you and also because my statute of limitations is up.
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I have something else to share this morning. I'm only admitting this because I trust all of you and also because my statute of limitations is up.
This weekend, the women's basketball team lost to Oregon. I scoured my mind for ways I could possibly relate to sportsball, and then it hit me: I, too, have suffered great losses at the hands of Oregon.
Part of me couldn't think of an anecdote today. The other part wanted to ~mix things up~
Today's newsletter, if I'm being honest, is a little grim.
If I can say anything not libelous about my experience with Counseling and Psychological Services at UNC, it'd just be: "They try."
I know every UNC student, Nicholas Sparks character and their mothers claim to have come from a small town in North Carolina. It's such a cliche, and I hate hearing it. Except when I say it because when I say it, it's true.
I'm going to talk more about high school this morning. Flash back four years to AP Human Geography (ZING, betcha thought made-up classes only started once you got to UNC!), and a classmate of mine is talking to his friend about his recent rejection letter from Carolina.
My first semester at UNC was pretty stressful. I didn't get a single class I wanted during registration. I had no idea how to get to know professors. I had no idea how people did it. But by the start of second semester, I discovered life's greatest secret: groveling emails. From getting into classes that are already closed to being recommended for internship positions to landing seats at networking events — I'm literally certain I could get a kidney on the black market if I sent a respectful email to the right person.
So I recently found out from the Coker Arboretum that lighting is, apparently, a pretty big deal in the plant world. I say "apparently" because my experience in botany peaked with growing peas in my third-grade science class. Keeping this in mind, when I visited Los Angeles earlier this year, a very persuasive street vendor convinced me I really needed to buy a plastic terrarium sphere thing.
Over the vast expanse of my life, I've only ever had one irrational fear: Bigfoot, or like, the Yeti, or Orang Pendek, or Sweetums from the Muppets. It was a fear nursed over many years by a gorilla suit my family had and many hours I spent watching late-night Nat Geo specials on cryptozoology.
I'm going to admit something to you, and I hope to keep it just between the 2,800 of us. I never liked Halloween. I found it tacky and time consuming and commercialized, and not even in the fun way like Christmas is.
At one point in my life — one dark, dark time in my life — I was a vegetarian. For over a year. I did it out of some unholy fusion of angst and love of animals. Sometimes, I was even one of those angry vegetarians that was kind of in-your-face about it. But then one day, something changed. I decided to 1) let myself feel happiness, and 2) grow up and be a militant atheist like every other white boy in the ninth grade.
Halloween on Franklin Street is like two things: 1) a blurry, sloppy, apocalyptic Exodus from South Campus, and 2) a box of chocolates. You never really know what you're going to get out there. Which is probably why UNC takes preparation so seriously, like this year's new measure to require registration of dorm guests on Oct. 31. And I can't say I blame them, based on my experiences the past two years.
We live in a state in which homeschool students have outnumbered private schoolers for two years now. With that in mind, I think it's time we start getting used to homeschoolers. Especially because I was once a homeschooler. So it's my obligation to shatter your stereotypes.
In recent years, it's become a cool thing to debate whether or not to vaccinate your kids. And with flu season just around the corner, I'm here to urge you to please get your flu shots.
If 12 hours ago you told me my parents had a lot in common with Larry Fedora, I'd have called you a liar. Sure, they're all registered Republicans and cheer for the Cowboys (probably). But they also have similar disciplinary strategies.
News recently broke that the place in Illinois that supplies most of the world's pumpkins is experiencing a shortage due to inclement weather this season. Which left me with two thoughts. First, what do you even call a business that ships out pumpkins? Second, and more alarming, Chicago isn't the state?
This week marks the beginning of two things: Humans vs. Zombies and horrid flashbacks from playing Humans vs. Zombies as a first-year. I remember the first stupid night I showed up to play that stupid game. I came packing my NERF bow and arrows, which someone promptly told me I "couldn't use" because I'd "hurt people." I let him know I wouldn't be hurting people; I'd be hurting zombies. I still wasn't allowed to use it.
A local writer, Aruna Gurumurthy, recently published "DIYA: A Megawatt Approach to Change," a self-care book based off roughly 300 Facebook posts. It documents her life realizations and advice from adolescence to adulthood.
It might come as a surprise to you to hear that UNC's public relations team has become a powerhouse in recent years. For student journalists, that statement evokes no surprise. It evokes a 1,000-yard stare and/or promises of, "No, I'm not crying."