Voices

Voices is the Op-Ed and personal essay section of The Georgetown Voice. It features the real narratives of diverse students from nearly every corner on campus, seeking to tell some of the incredibly important and yet oft-unheard stories that affect life in and out of Georgetown.

Voices

There’s no place like it

To my surprise, I discovered that I don’t wake up happy very often anymore.

By the September 30, 2004

Voices

When I was a hostage

I could see exactly what the hired guns planned to do with me when they opened the rear hatch of the Jeep.

By the September 23, 2004

Voices

The show goes on

One of the first opportunities my relocation afforded me was a chance to open for a magician-friend of mine for six shows in Bermuda.

By the September 23, 2004

Voices

Georgetown reacts to the Beslan massacre

The crowd of students and parents, shocked and dehydrated, huddled in the gymnasium as the terrorists draped wires around the room, connecting a series of bombs. This horrible image was only one of many to come out of Beslan, Russia this month.

By the September 23, 2004

Voices

Makes me want to Ralph

Why a vote for Nader is a vote for nonsense

By the September 16, 2004

Voices

Reservoir hot dog

A man with a hot dog suit. And a gun.

By the September 16, 2004

Voices

A practical guide for hurricane season

Forget the duct tape, grab the wine!

By the September 16, 2004

Voices

This has all been wonderful, but now I’m on my way

A phish-head learns to accept change and move on

By the September 9, 2004

Voices

My year a-bored

I was burned out with school, burned out on drugs and needed time to find my chi.

By the September 9, 2004

Voices

Carrying On: What’s wrong with being a little childish?

The author reverts to childhood while abroad

By the September 9, 2004

Voices

Watch out for the ether bunny

Hi everyone! It’s Joan Rivers here at the Apocalypse, where it’s not just a parade of the damned, but of the damned good looking! I can’t even tell you how hard it is to get in these gates, but luckily we’re inside where I’ll be keeping my wrinkled, corpse-like finger on the pulse of what’s hot and what’s not.

By the September 2, 2004

Voices

Republicans Welcome: Where to Stay at the RNC

Would you like clean sheets with that?

By the September 2, 2004

Voices

Carrying On: The plums I carried in Uzbekistan

While planning my trip to Uzbekistan, I imagined many possible scenarios for what this country would be like. Most of them involved camels, naan, irrigation and Soviet-induced ecological catastrophe. Somehow, the predicament of being compelled to pick fruit while wearing a polka-dotted skirt and strappy sandals was not one of the images I had in mind.

By the September 2, 2004

Voices

Understanding the two faces of Chile

Can a torture camp ever really become a “Park of Peace”?

By the August 26, 2004

Voices

First-years: Listen to us, you fools

Climb down the Exorcist steps. Take a romantic stroll around the monuments by moonlight. Climb the John Carroll statue. Eat a Chicken Madness. If you don’t, you may be a terrorist.

By the August 26, 2004

Voices

I only get the negatives: confessions of a bitter break up

Like the headline says, confessions of a bitter break up

By the August 26, 2004

Voices

Sunshine boy goes to hell

Sounds of giggling and squealing are leaking through the hall as the couple next door play around with the vibrating, coin-operated bed. I’m sitting in my room at the Hotel 69 doing homework, automatically making me the biggest loser in the building. It doesn’t matter that everyone else in the building is porking an aging hooker, it still has to be more fun than memorizing characters from a textbook by the dim lamplight.

By the April 29, 2004

Voices

Missing the veteran

Massive blocks of concrete are toppled into a giant heap, thick wires stick out at strange angles and bright blue Port-a-Potties outline the ruins. The site is entirely unrecognizable. The debris of Veteran’s Stadium, piled several hundred feet high on the asphalt, amounts to an estimated 70,000 cubic yards of material.

By the April 29, 2004

Voices

Spearhead with Mommy

“No thank you,” my mother said politely declining the joint a scrappy twenty-something stoner offered her. To some, it might seem bizarre to have complete strangers offer your parents drugs. By this point in the evening, though, nothing could faze me.

If someone had predicted this situation a mere week earlier, I would have bet my very life against them.

By the April 29, 2004

Voices

Enslaved by Zara

I see it. I am on a path toward it. Nothing will deter me now. With arms shaking under a load of acrylics and wool knits, I look straight ahead and imagine myself there-at the red and orange clothing rack across the room. The obstacles ahead present a challenge: meandering customers with wandering eyes, glancing at the shiny white walls in search of the perfect evening ensemble, a smart suit or a sales associate to assist them with their shopping needs.

By the April 29, 2004