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I am oscillating along the lines of a near-quarter life crisis and it can all be traced back to an admitted defeat and final termination of a finicky relationship with lactose.
Last week, in the days leading up to President Obama’s visit, Library Mall played host to a group of traveling protesters known as The Genocide Awareness Project. With their colossal, sickening images of aborted fetuses, their stay was marked not so much by controversy (at least in my circles) as by umbrage, disgust and deep loathing. In this article I don’t want to address the message behind this display (that abortion is unethical). Instead I want to pick apart their shock tactic and elaborate my gut feelings of contempt for these people.
Presidential campaign workers were forced to improvise a re-election campaign rally music playlist in less than 24 hours after a whirlwind trip from the presidential debate in Denver, Colo., to President Barack Obama’s Thursday afternoon rally in Madison.
In a town like Madison, we do a lot of moving. Once we get tired of one place (or run out of rent money, let’s be honest), we’re off to the next shitty hole-in-the-wall apartment our parents kind of want to cry about when they visit. Considering how mobile we, as a student body, are, you’d think that we’d be used to it by now. I’ve found this is certainly not the case.
Apparently my last column may have perhaps contained “too many” references to “old” television shows (i.e. “Roseanne,” “The Golden Girls”) and it may have made some of you question whether or not I was actually a student here or even born in your decade or something. Well, it may upset you to know that yes, I am a 20 going on 21-year-old woman AND I know the whole plot line of “Cheers” and “Frasier” AND I know that one is a spin-off of the other. Scared yet?
The night after the Packers won the Super Bowl in 2011 my palm was burning from all the high-fives I got during and after the game. State Street was awash in Green and Gold fans celebrating in the temperate winter conditions. I remember watching the Wisconsin vs. Ohio State game where J.J. Watt and company steamrolled the No. 1 ranked Buckeyes. The city erupted, students and visitors crammed the bars and the streets until the early morning.
As summer winds down and us kids get back into the swing of school and independence (a.k.a. eating cereal for dinner), let us look forward to the emotional rollercoaster that is visiting home. Whether you’re from the valleys of Utah and are the 27th love child of a man named Josiah or the grad from Laguna High who never made it to the screen of MTV’s Laguna Beach (even though you totally hooked up with Jason—what gives?), going home is a real, well, special trip.
There are some things in life you cannot un-see… or un-feel, for that matter. But I think you’ll need a little more background information before I reveal to you the gritty details of my scarring summer experience and the events that led me to reform my views on hygiene, drugs (almost) and society’s capacity to maintain some semblance of human decency.
After decades of students walking all the way down University only to be told they needed to go to the other Bob’s Copy Shop on the other side of campus, Bob and Bob have reached a agreement where they will have separate names.
When I attended my Student Orientation and Registration (SOAR) session three years ago I was told the requirements to form a student organization on this campus were minimal. The University only demanded that the organization be composed of at least three students, and I don’t even remember hearing that an adviser was needed. Because I have held “leadership” positions in two organizations, I can tell you first hand that the requirements to form and register an organization have expanded dramatically. This is my complaint letter.
I was in a unique position with regards to Pondamonium. Besides having an interest in going, I also had a job with the Madison Mallards i.e. the organization hosting the event. So, yes, Madison hipsters and grunge fans, I got paid to see Garbage and the Flaming Lips. It meant sacrificing a chance to stand on the field while Wayne Conye launched balloons and confetti into the crowd, of course, but it gave me a different perspective for this review.
10. Be friends with your HF
A few days ago, Maurice Sendak passed away at the age of 83. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, maybe this will: he was the author and illustrator of “Where The Wild Things Are.” So suddenly this is a big deal, right? Monumental even.
I started writing the sex column first at the Badger Herald and then at The Daily Cardinal. I was an undergrad. It was 2008. I started writing because I thought I had a lot of training and knowledge I could share on subjects about which training and knowledge weren’t always readily accessible. I wasn’t sure how well the column would be received, and I certainly didn’t expect to be writing for several years. The reason I did is because of you. Students wrote in with their own questions and issues. Some weeks, I had more e-mails than I had time to answer. I made referrals, sent private e-mails and published some columns for the paper. I like to think I made a difference, and I like to think people learned from me.
So I’m sitting here on Sunday afternoon, trying to rehydrate after a night spent with generous and thirsty alumni from my favorite student organization, eating Spongebob Mac n’ Cheese and watching “Eat, Pray, Love.” Typical.
In the sea of Daily Cardinal alumni who gathered in Madison for the newspaper’s 120th anniversary last weekend, a small group of two dozen, reconnected by hope, comforted each other in a time of tragedy.
Whether we intended to or not, many of us celebrated Earth Day this past Sunday by simply spending some time outdoors in the fresh spring air. Perhaps you looked at a tree and thought, rather introspectively, “I appreciate you.” Others of you might have cried a tear for polar bears that no longer have ice to hang out on. I celebrated Earth Day by taking a walk through the University of Wisconsin’s Arboretum and exploring nature. I underwent this adventure with my patient boyfriend who fortunately had a nature observation to write for his biology class (#collegehomework?). The following is our encounter with the real world:
The Multicultural Student Coalition's budget appeal was given new life by Interim Chancellor David Ward last week. MCSC's actions and Ward's decision damage campus in two different ways: Ward has unfairly stuck his thumb in the pie of segregated fees, and MCSC continues to hurt this campus' overall conversation on diversity through its general ineptitude.
Over the weekend, the editorial staff of this fine publication did something it is known to do: party. We Cardinalistas live by two codes. The first you will find printed at the bottom of each edition’s front page (I'll wait while you check the PDF). The second is one inscribed within our hearts, a mantra we were all born believing: Work hard, play hard.
Solutions by The State News
