As a graduating senior, I can think of nothing worse than discussing my life with elder acquaintances who inevitably bestow the following words of wisdom upon me: “I hope you’ve had fun because the college years will be the best ones of your life.”
At Lulu’s Club Mardi Gras in downtown Washington, D.C. last Saturday morning, approximately 700 people waited for hours in the spring sunshine in the hopes of securing a place on the 17th season of MTV’s “The Real World.”
t the shallowest level, body image obsession can be attributed to boredom and self-centeredness. The worrying is not really about how you look physically, it’s about how you feel about yourself.
When you were issued a bad report card in elementary school, you had to bring it back to the teacher with your parents’ signature. That way, you couldn’t hide it from them. But if you’re the President of the United States, hiding your evaluations is apparently just fine.
For just under 10 minutes, I had read aloud an inflammatory valedictory address that berated my high school in front of a gathering of hundreds, with a line of administrators staring at my back.
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