I was in my favorite thrift store right before I left for college, and while I normally love shopping, I could only convince myself to buy one thing.
I still remember the night my freshman fall when someone vomited all over my favorite jacket.
Imagine yourself cultivating with a shopping cart or hunting in the woods with a coupon booklet.
A decade ago, in a land of talking animals and mobile transforming homes, lived a man that captured my animal-loving heart.
My sister is a dumpster diver. I don’t think it’s possible for her to go anywhere without veering into a trashcan.
Do I consider myself an environmentalist – yes! Do I eat Oreos and fly in airplanes– yes! Am I hypocritical – maybe.
Ask a Carl, “What are your traditions?” You will probably hear a detached recounting of what makes Carleton known outside its own community, as if tradition means a trite section of the campus tour script.
If you pay close attention, you can definitely tell the signs of changes that go up while the leaves fall today, and like the leaves this year, these signs are showing more conspicuously than before.
I always thought movies like “Animal House” were very amusing, but also completely made up.
It happens every term. Suddenly, everything is done: all the readings on the syllabi, all the essays, all the violin juries, all the scribbled notes.
When John Kerry announced the resumption of Israeli-Palestinian peace talks last July, my office took the afternoon off and threw a party.
A year ago, I never thought I would become Co-Editor-in-Chief of the paper with J.M. We were both copy-editors who enjoyed coming to The Carletonian office on Thursday nights to “find errors” (read: mess around and listen to music).