Going going, back back to Cali Cali
I’m unbelievably excited for winter break. It’s been years—and yes, I mean years—since I’ve been on a legit vacation. But wait, there’s more—I’m going to one of the happiest places on Earth: Southern California.
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I’m unbelievably excited for winter break. It’s been years—and yes, I mean years—since I’ve been on a legit vacation. But wait, there’s more—I’m going to one of the happiest places on Earth: Southern California.
Here comes December—a month that (I think unanimously) evokes memories and emotions about one thing in particular: the holidays.
If you’ve never been to The Delaware House before, there’s a good reason: It’s a random house on Doty Street. But last Saturday night it also served as a venue for Soul Low, The Delphines, Alta and Young Holidays, all bands from Milwaukee, and Brighter Arrows, from Chicago.
I’m just not sure what I want to do with myself. Maybe right now I can get by on 12-packs of Fresca and frozen pizza, but my time is gonna come.
I’ve put off writing this particular article for a while now. There’s something about it that I’m just so afraid everyone is going to hate.
In the 1970s, a man named Brian Eno surfaced on the music scene with radical new ideas on how to write and listen to music. Over a long and illustrious career, Eno has produced and inspired some of the world’s top musical talent—David Bowie, Coldplay, The Talking Heads—and the list is undeniably impressive.
This week holds a special significance for most of the students at the UW-Madison. I am no exception. For many of us, Tuesday will be the first time we can vote in a presidential election.
I’m sure many of you took part in the Halloween shenanigans around Madison this past weekend. Whether it’s getting freaky on State Street or simply putting on a costume and drinking until morning, Halloween brings frightening stories every year.
There are plenty of beneficial aspects of being a freshman. The first year in college you meet a bunch of new people, partying takes on an entirely different meaning and maybe best of all, nobody is monitoring your every move anymore.
It’s officially midterms, the second busiest part of the semester. The extra hours of studying have been wearing me down so much, I’ve neglected one of my most sacred October traditions: I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to be for Halloween this year.
The past few years have been a learning experience for me musically. I’ve let dust collect on the Megadeth and Dream Theater CDs that I listened to almost religiously at full blast in high school and have started thinking about my musical preferences holistically. Instead of being obsessed with a few similar genres, I’ve branched out into styles and sounds that I could have never imagined myself enjoying.
The more I think about it, the more I want to become a biker when I’m older. There’s something about cruising down open country roads at whatever speed seems right, in a pack of thirty other people riding loud, two-wheeled death-traps, that strikes me as, well, romantic.
The concept of being a grown-up terrifies me. I’m not too concerned about moving out of my parents’ house or having to work 40 (okay, probably more than 40) hours per week. It’s a fear of heightened expectations—knowing my actions can’t be cushioned forever.
Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about how little I really know. The only thing I believe to be absolutely true these days is that nobody understands what the fuck is going on.
This past weekend I traveled to see David Byrne and St. Vincent in concert at Riverside Theater in Milwaukee. As a fan of both artists, I had an inkling this performance was going to be special, and it definitely was. But the sheer talent on stage wasn’t the only thing that made seeing these two together exciting: their audiences bridged separate generations.
There’s something about the first few weeks of school that I dread coming back to every year. No, it isn’t the fact that I have to sit inside doing work instead of enjoying the finally moderate weather (although this does kind of suck). Going back to my freshman year, it seems like without fail, by the end of the second week of classes I catch some kind of sickness.
Last Thursday MTV hosted the 2012 Video Music Awards. If there is anything that can be taken away from the VMAs it’s that popular musicians in the U.S. don’t even need to try anymore.
Spending my last few weeks of summer at home in the grotesquely inefficient, sprawl-ridden locale of north suburban Chicago (where your options are to drive or go nowhere) helped in muddling memories of one of my biggest pet-peeves. It unfortunately took only a few days of living in Madison for those suppressed feelings to come flooding back.
Well, the literally sophomoric time of year, mid-august, when a cluster fuck of U-Hauls, flat-beds, creeper vans, and concerned (albeit sardonic) parents descend upon our eclectic city to simultaneously move thousands of students is finally behind us. Anyone involved knows it was no cakewalk.
The U.S. Department of Energy awarded UW-Madison grants Tuesday totaling more than a $22 million for the Morgridge Institute for Research and for nuclear engineering research.