I spent the night before my final first day of class reading the handful of postcards my dad sent me before we moved to North Carolina. One featured the Charlotte skyline. Another proclaimed it to be “The Tar Heel State,” complete with little footprints Dad labeled to belong to each member of my family.
I don’t want to take off my Carolina Blue-colored glasses.
Up until just a few weeks ago, I’d never traveled outside the United States. The farthest I’d traveled is Austin, Texas, which is essentially a satellite colony of Carrboro and therefore doesn’t count.
In July of 2016, I started on an endless and impossible quest to compile every song that mentions North Carolina.
In three months, someone else will be living in my apartment.
I am very tired. I got jaw surgery one week ago and then slept for eight hours, which was a real feat for me.
Kiana Cole (human woman) and Alison Krug (the anthropomorphization of human shrieking) are the writers of UNC’s premier (only!) satirical advice column. Results may vary.
“The newspaper is no place for someone who likes it soft.”
Iam considering purchasing Spotify Premium so I can choose the soundtrack to my own inevitable murder.
On Nov. 9, I didn’t know what to do. My usual soul-rejuvenating activities (cross stitching, catching and releasing spiders from The Daily Tar Heel bathroom, stress cooking) didn’t seem like enough.
