In my opinion, junior year was by far the most challenging yet. The academic pressure, the strains on friendships, the crunch and reminder of time—everything just seemed a bit more intense than the two previous years, and I hope this was not an omen for next year. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am certain that the final year may just present itself as a circumnavigated route back to the first. Everything from freshmen year—the friends, the nostalgia, the fresh innocence—will reveal itself one last time.

When my freshmen began to move out of Yates I sent them a letter as somewhat of a farewell token, and I hope that each of them take the bits of advice to heart. Some of the letter is below:

And this is the important thing: no matter how troublesome the world around us seems, we have to find time for camaraderie and laughter. College is not just about getting good grades and joining organizations/clubs/fraternities. The relationships you build with those around you are much more lasting than a measly paper or quiz. Do not let the red tape of academia blind or bind you.

College is also about being a mess. It’s about getting the wind kicked out of your lungs, because, as Sarah Kay says, that’s the only way for our lungs to really know how much we enjoy air. So don’t be afraid to make mistakes, to cut your elbows and knees, to stray from the path and forge a trail (Ralph Waldo Emerson).

And let’s realize that shame is not the same as guilt. Shame is the painful feeling caused by the consciousness of wrong and right behavior. Those without shame are those without the capacity for emotion and empathy. I hope that each of you never restrain yourself from your goals and desires; face your fears. Dr. Brene Brown says that, “vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage.” There is nothing wrong with vulnerability. Yes, it’s uncomfortable and somewhat terrifying to expose ourselves before others or the fears that laugh. But is there nothing more fulfilling with the strengthened heart? Because that’s the only true gem of laughter, friendship, family.

When it was my turn to move out, I was going through all of my folders and drawers and I came across a few photos from my own freshman year. These photos of my then comrades and myself are bittersweet because some friendships have dissolved, some faces blurred, but I am thankful for the moments I shared with each of them. I am also hopeful that, yes, perhaps the final year will expose the first year for the better.

I think this is the scariest time of the year.

Finals week begins today and while I should be busy hiding in the corners of Swem or Tyler hall, I can’t help but looking back on the year and trying to tie all the remaining knots. As I mentioned in my last post, a lot of my friends are graduating in about two weeks, and while I am happy for their futures and the new pages they will write, I am only starkly reminded that time isn’t as vast as I thought. I’ll be a senior in August and that frightens me the most.

In a recent conversation with my pal who is abroad, I told him that I really think senior year is going to be nothing more than a cataclysmic recycle of freshmen year. I think of the ouroboros—the ancient symbol depicting the snake (or dragon) eating its tail—and imagine how we, like the snake, will have to devour all of the memories and mistakes from the years in order to survive. I can only imagine how the seniors are dealing with the end of their own tales now.

I feel as though this summer is the last chance I have to relax, explore, breathe. But there is all of this expectation to intern, get real world experience, touch the paint before I splatter myself. As much as I want to travel to New York and intern with a magazine, I am anxious to leave. I find myself tenaciously trying to find an excuse to stay. The other day while I was running past Adair, I caught a whiff of sunscreen I was immediately hit with a montage of memories and emotions, and images of the beach, of friends, of golden dusk—all of which have filled my summers. All of which I will miss.

My tentative plans involve staying for the first session of summer classes and then going up to New York for an internship. But financial aid has yet to send out any reward letters and I haven’t secured a place to stay in NY yet, so I’m constantly on nerve. We shall see.

So, I don’t know my summer plans; I’m not excited for senior year.

But I do miss my friends; I am still scared; and I am going to hide for finals.

Tribesmen,

I cannot believe that it’s the middle of March. It’s been a blur to say the least. This post, as many of my most recent, will be a collection of various thoughts about the last few months/weeks. Bare with me!

Spring classes are okay. My course load is English heavy, naturally, so I’m spending a lot of my time reading or writing. I’m taking a Non-Fiction Writing seminar class, which is one of the best classes I have ever taken. It really forces me as a writer and reader to face myself head on to take my complexities and give them articulation. Hemingway got it right when he said, “There is nothing to writing. You just sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” And the beloved Chelsey Johnson is such a gem. I’m thankful and honored to have had such a stellar guide throughout my entire year of writing both fiction and non. Many kudos.

Half of my friends are studying abroad this semester, as I’ve mentioned before, and the other half is nervous and scared about graduation, about their future. Though I’ve managed to meet a bunch of great people who I know will become essential appendages to my well being (you know who you are), my heart still goes out to all of my comrades. I actually had made legitimate plans to visit my good friend in Scotland for spring break, but due to frustrating flight changes the trip would have cost more money than ideal for merely a week’s visit. It was sad, yes, that chat about dissolving our reunion. But I’ll see him sometime soon—expect a post about that indeed.

I will definitely be spending my summer interning in Manhattan this summer, but I’m not sure with which publication yet. So far I’ve been offered an internship with BULLETT magazine, an interview with Lucky, and I have heard from ELLE. I’m waiting to hear back from both the Conde Nast and ASME (American Society of Magazine Editors) programs. Their responses should drop anytime soon, so I’m eager for the news. Finding somewhere to live in the New York area will prove difficult, though. I’ve learned this semester that if you don’t have ample supply of both time and money then you’re screwed. In this case I’m somewhat without the latter of the two, but I’m still exploring options. I’ll keep you posted.

Spring semester always proves the most irritating for me. The weather is sublime, yet how can I read or do anything productive when the Sunken Garden looks like a beach? The entire campus is littered with sun tanners, field players, and other troupes of free spirits frolicking about. Can’t the spring academia just be filled with outside oral presentations or nebulous discourse?

And I feel so rushed in the spring, too, with all of this exchange of housing and registration. I just finished my first rounds of midterms (one of which went extremely well in a class that I’m taking pass/fail and it irritates me that the Registrar will not let me flip my choice so I can actually receive a grade and GPA boost) and now I’m expected to configure my home and schedule for next year? Classes look fine besides the fact that I’ll be a senior. But W&M, you do too much.

As my supervisor mentioned in our staff training, friendships are tested during this time of year. Whether it’s a lack of communication or just opposing communication, there’s somewhat of a palpable tension about next year’s housing situation. I’m gracious that I’m squared away, but there’s something I can tell anyone who’s having problems (thefreshmenwhoIinteractwith) it’s two words: chill out. Friendships will last beyond whomever you choose or end up living with next year. Sometimes we spend our time over thinking everything until we forget the real meaning of what’s important to us, and other times we’re desperately avoiding those who we actually need to be friends with. So chill out and let friendship flow. Embrace change now or you’ll suffer later (believe me).

That seems to be all on my mind right now. I’ll post more, I promise. I’ll reconnect.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying the sun.

While staying the night in Atlanta a few days ago, I received the e-mail from the 2013 class president asking for nominations for the 2013 commencement speaker.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the three names I will nominate, but it’s really difficult to narrow down my list. Below, you will find a collage of my top eight choices that I made while listening to Florence + The Machine’s ‘Shake It Out’. I find each of these individuals admirable and inspiring; they have each made contributions to our world that have sparked discussion, provoked thought, and, in a sense, furthered our joie de vivre.

And though the Board of Visitors may disagree with any candidate who isn’t an old political figure, I can still dream.

Speaker, I’ll see you there.

Can you believe it’s actually 2012?

My winter break has been filled with nothing but travel. First I took a visit to Charlottesville/Keswick to visit a good friend and her family. Now, if you’re as much of a reality-television buff as I am, you know that upon meeting new people some of them just deserve their own television series. I need the Bravo Network to fly over the Appalachians and start filming. Two words: good times.

Anyway, I had never been to Charlottesville. It feels and looks a lot like Hagerstown and Funkstown Maryland (where some of my extended family live). There’s this bagel place called Bodos that would obliterate the College’s measly Einstein Bros. We need one here—in Williamsburg—now. And in the Downtown Mall area, there’s this place called Daedalus Books. Calling all English majors: road trip! This place made me feel like I was in Daedalus’ legendary labyrinth. I only found one out of three books I was looking for, but an old copy of Dante’s Purgatorio made the adventure all worthwhile.

I took a trip up to Herndon next, where the majority of my time was spent dropping dollars on clothes, movies, and exotic Thai and Korean foods. My last night in NoVa, a group of friends and I went out to this club called Fur, which did not have fierce animals, but an intense European DJ instead. The dance floor was more tightly packed than one of Lambo’s eurotrash parties, and though our first attempt to ascend to the second floor balconies was barred, our second attempt put us in the upstairs VIP lounge. Yeah. There were leather couches, with tall, thin glasses, buckets of ice and champagne and servers pushing through the dancers to run to and from the bar. Confused, yet excited, we tossed the ice around and had a thrilling night indeed.

me enjoying a peppermint cookie after making pizzas

For new years I went back to Keswick. There were about nine of us total, and we all celebrated clumsily, but blissfully. We made pizzas, which included two Italian pizzas (made by yours truly), two Thai, a Mexican, and a Pear/Gorgonzola pizza; played Apples to Apples and this game called Bodies to Bodies, which involves turning off all of the lights and running from a killer until you either stumble upon a dead body or die yourself; bellowed the Alma Mater after the ball dropped; and then shot off fireworks from the nearby helipad, while continuing to swing the champagne and sing tunes from Adele, Queen, Kanye West, and Gaga. Probably the best new years celebration I’ve ever had.

There’s nothing more magical I have learned in College than how momentous it is carving memories and adventures with friends. That’s exactly how I wanted to spend this break; so, now I’m off to Alabama before continued RA training begins!

It’s literally been months since my last post, but I haven’t forgotten about you.

At the moment I’m in the middle of studying passages for an English final tomorrow, and I can’t believe the semester is nearly over. It feels like just yesterday Hurricane Irene was impending upon the College and the freshmen in Yates were squabbling amuck. But because we’ve been departed for quite some time, allow me to recap the gaps:

October: I traveled with a delegation from RHA to the SAACURH conference at Georgia State University. It was my first time in Georgia outside of the bleak Atlanta airport walls. It was enjoyable, but ultimately filled with procrastination, which is the nature of any trip away from the College, unfortunately.

When we arrived in Atlanta, I had a conference call with the Publication Council about ROCKET’s proposal for permanent seat amongst the Council, and after a few days it was official that ROCKET magazine was granted full membership.

Halloween was blurry. Date party after date party, costume after Greek costume, and so much dancing. I was the Greek god Hermes (or his Roman equivalent, Mercury) for every occasion, and my array of dates throughout the weekend included both Daphne and Megara.

November: The week October transitioned into November was filled with anxiety and stress (much like the current finals week). The root of that irritating pressure rests within one word: Registration. Oh, the Furies. Now a junior, I actually managed to triumphantly trounce Banner and slide into my desired classes.

Right now I’m signed up for three seemingly fantastic English classes, a GER 4B, and an aloof class that I’ll most likely discard for another. I still spend time procrastinating on Banner, of course, clicking and scrolling through the pages of classes for something different, something better than what I already have—the perfect schedule, that’s the overarching dream.

And the Potlucks, Pre-Thanksgiving break dinners—the mouth, belly, and eye can only handle so much, but spending time with friends while sharing a meal is always special.

Before break, I attended my first Publication Council meeting and won the position as Chair for next semester. I’m thrilled. Publishing is my passion—it’s legitimately what I want to pursue as a career, and I expect this experience to only further my understanding and love.

Also, the fall issue of ROCKET hits campus this week. I cannot thank the team enough for its ceaseless devotion, and I am excited for you to see the issue.  Here’s a peek at the cover:

Make sure you check it out!

Now: December already, really? Classes are already over, Grand Illumination (not elimination) spectacularly commenced finals week, and the semester is in its final chapter. I don’t like this. I can’t believe I’m nearly 1.5 years away from graduation, away from being plucked from the College and shooed off into the rigid real world.

It’s also a rough time outside of academia because it’s time to start thinking about reapplying to Residence Life, as well as thinking about housing in general. Additionally—and more sentimentally important—a lot of my closest comrades are studying abroad next semester. But trust: any down time, including dull weekends and spring break, will be spent on a plane and in a foreign country. From Scotland, to Spain, and even South Africa, my heart goes out to each of them.

You’ll hear more from me soon, I promise.

Within the past forty-eight hours I’ve probably slept about eight or nine of them. I wouldn’t say I necessarily procrastinated to write a paper that was due earlier today at noon, because I wrote a brainstorming sheet (I take a blank piece of computer paper and then just scribble, map, and plan out all of my thoughts) two days previous, and I let the ideas and thoughts ferment in the back of my mind. But I just didn’t end up actually writing the paper until around nine o’clock the night before. Well it’s done now, right?

It’s been a while since my last post, but I’m finding that this year seems to shaping into the most challenging yet. All of my classes fall within three days of each other, so while it may seem that I have a marvelous four-day weekend that’s not the case. I spend those days trying to find the strength to pack and haul my backpack to Swem, but I find myself just lollygagging around the hall, messing/pranking/scaring/hanging with the freshmen and playing games. Not until I walk into Swem do I really realize how much work I have, and it’s finding that balance—between work and want—that’s bothering me.

As far as classes are concerned, I enjoy them all. The mean of my satisfaction is somewhere in the B-B+ range. The majority of my classes discuss the same topic, the Classics, so all day long I’m listening to different interpretations on battles, heroes, monsters, and the human condition therein. The only problem is that I have not yet adjusted to back-to-back lectures all day long. I don’t remember it being so straining and fatiguing in high school.

I’m taking a fiction writing class that meets on Wednesdays. I really enjoy the intimate class size and the contemporary literature we’re reading; however, the writing assignments always make me anxious. Writing outside of the realm of academia is a passion of mine (hello blogosphere!), but sometimes I feel pressured and constricted by the “write this” assignments. I completely understand the need to hone my creative thought process—and the urgency to develop a polished writing prowess—but it’s just that sometimes I find myself staring at the assignment as if it were a vile insect. The class is creatively challenging, yet I have produced some of my most raw and true pieces yet. I favor it.

Also, there’s an undergoing trend at the College that I noticed freshmen year but didn’t really understand its true dynamic until last week. Even though it’s the beginning of October, people and organizations already have their eyes on the summer and next fall. Why? Why can’t we all just enjoy the now. I attended an interest meeting for the W&M DC Institute and though the New Media branch sounds phenomenal, I was just in shock at how the application for your summer life is so early. And I have friends applying and interviewing for orientation aid director positions, and also a few considering to study abroad, and when I sit down and think of it I’m just in shock that our minds are constantly in the future. But I guess we’re in the age of Aquarius, right?

Tonight is Busch Gardens day, which means tickets for W&M students are ridiculously low. I am not attending these festivities because I’m on duty tonight and I’m also recovering from sleep deprivation. The campus is quiet. And I think it’s a good start to the weekend.

Until next time!

The past week or so has been phenomenal and I apologize for the inconsistent paragraphs that may follow. I have not had a full amount of good time to jot down all of my thoughts lately.
I moved in a week prior to freshmen move-in day to begin Residence Assistance training, which was an awesome experience in itself. The days were long and the policy was punctilious, but the time spent with the other members on my staff was golden. Our icebreakers and team bonding exercises genuinely brought everyone closer, and our trust, respect, and compassion for one another was palpable at the end of training.

One night before the freshmen moved in, a fellow Randolph-Yates staff member and I were jammin’ out to some tunes while she was sitting duty in the Randolph office. Connecting with someone else on a musical level is always stunning—Phantogram’s ‘Mouthful of Diamonds,’ SBTRKT’s ‘Wildfire,’ and Casiokids’ ‘Finn bikkjen!’ are only just some of the songs that thrashed Tazewell.

I cannot speak for everyone, but the night before the freshmen move-in I did not sleep too much. In fact, I found myself eager to meet all of the guys on my hall—eager to help them adjust to their new homes. The eve of my own freshmen move-in was spent listening to Little Dragon’s ‘Feather,’ as I flipped through my high school senior book; however, I wondered as I tried falling asleep in an empty hall where each of the residents were at that moment. Were they in the Hospitality House with their family, or were they cozily asleep in their own beds at home?

I even wondered what my fellow peers were doing, too. When would they arrive? What classes do I share with each of them? Everyone is at the point of narrowing their vision solely on their majors, fishing deeper into the depths of his own study. Junior year, I believe, is definitely going to stand as the year of change, whether I enjoy it or not. And truthfully, I hope the bonds I have made over the past two years can only harden.

The actual day of move-in was energizing and exuberant. Meeting all of the residents and their parents in between shuffling radio hits and dancing to ‘Friday’ with one of the Orientation Aids made up for lack of sleep and the number of staples I used all throughout training. Everything seems a blur now, with all of the ice breakers and bonding games, but the day could not have been more finely topped off than with the traditional ‘secret’ serenade of the President’s house.

In fact, I have enjoyed Orientation and the events therein every single year at the College, and this year was no exception. Kudos to everyone on board with Orientation, especially whomever assigns OAs to their halls because I do not know what I—or anyone on the entire floor—would have done without the support of our two amiable aids. Cheers to them, indeed!

And the chance to serve as a mentor and aid to some of the newest—and finest—members of the Tribe is more than an honor. I cannot express the pure gratitude and raw humility I have for this chance at extending guidance and friendship.

This year will be electric.

Welcome home.

“Whether you come back by film or page, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home” – JK Rowling.  This is the quote that ignited my tears.

As an English major, my passion is rooted deeply within literature.  I can remember picking up The Sorcerer’s Stone in fifth grade and falling under the enchantment of Mrs. Rowling, and the majesty of words.  Appetite churned to hunger, and soon I was filling myself to the rim with books.  Whether it is the story and drama of characters or the allurement of fictional worlds, the Harry Potter series sparked a flame that grew to consume my interest indefinitely.  There was nothing more I wanted than to be a writer when I was younger, and that vehemence continues to pulse even today.

Literature is a divine instrument.  It is delightful, intimidating, transfixing, tormenting, inspiriting, disastrous, and crucial.  Literature is the mirror revealing our tie is askew, the life raft in our hour of desertion.  It is the wind for our kites, and the night sky for our stars.  Call me an illogical baffling fool, but this is what I believe.

The Harry Potter series is the horcrux in which my childhood thrives.  Nevertheless, Hogwarts, much like William & Mary itself, and any castle, or beach, or terrace I have visited on my odyssey through literature, will always be my home.

So, yes, Daniel Radcliffe, the stories we love best do live in us forever.

I have been keeping this under the radar, but I think I’ll just announce it now. A few weeks ago I was perusing through the magazine stand at Barnes & Noble and came across Bullett magazine. It’s a fairly new zine primarily focused on art, fashion, and culture, and something that I had not seen before. When I got home, I visited their website and just fell in love with everything I saw.

So, naturally, I sent the magazine an e-mail asking about internship possibilities. Now, someone in my position—that of a student who intermittently casts e-mails to magazines in hopes of even receiving a response— doesn’t really expect a response at all. In fact, the act of sending the e-mail merely serves as a false hope. However, the next day, I acquired a reply from Juliet Thompson, the Content Director.

After sending my cover letter and resume, I received another e-mail from Jen Kessler, the Editorial Director, who asked if I could come to their office in Manhattan for an interview. I panicked.

I was beyond excitement that I was actually communicating with people in the exact media I want to break into, but I was also apprehensive because I had never been to the city before. I talked to a few friends about the situation and, after much consideration, I decided to fly to New York spend the day in Manhattan to meet some of the editors of Bullett magazine.

One word: phenomenal.

The editors are all in their early twenties, like myself, so it was more of a conversation than an actual interview. The amiability was palpable and it was outstanding how easily we all clicked. When the internship portion of the conversation came up, I told them I cannot live in the city because I am still in school and, frankly, have nowhere to stay. It really pains me that I will not be able to come into the office everyday and actually do hands on projects with everyone else, but they completely understand.

I did pitch another idea, however. I already have plans to travel throughout Europe this summer, so I decided to pitch the idea of producing a city travel guide, which they all loved. From Rome to Venice, a bit of Greece, and maybe some of London and Paris, I will journal and photograph everywhere I shop, eat, sightsee, and party.

During the goodbyes and promises to visit again, Juliet noticed my W&M string bag, which I had brought for the day, and she immediately told me she is a Richmond native. Another member of the team, Megan Wolfe, noticed my bag, too, and said W&M was always her dream school. It was stunning to connect even deeper on the simple words William and Mary.

I am still stupefied by that entire day, and in awe that W&M is resounding in Manhattan. The feeling is indescribable.