A prairie dog jumping the dividers of nature. (via abcnews.go.com)

We like to stay pretty competitive here at The Thrill, and a Blog Off is one way we can definitively prove that one of us is objectively a better blogger (dare we say, a better person).  So we leave it to you, the reader, to decide in a blind taste test who is really better as we square off on various topics.

This week Claire Berman ’16 and Julia Lindsay ’18 square-off on a decisive debate: the Gund dividers. Love ’em? Hate ’em? Miss ’em? Never seen ’em? Now is the time for battle.

Student A:

It’s 1824, you’re walking home from a balmy 27 degree night (ah, the good days; pre-global warming, but with more measles) and you walk into your Gund Hall double and you’re like, “Where the hell am I? This isn’t a building on campus? Also, having these dividers sucks.” Well, that’s why they got rid of them- for me and all my 191 year-old friends. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of dividers sounds actually pretty good, I’m a Gund kid at heart and of course the less socialization with my roommate, the better. However, the dark dingy exterior that was Gund pre-renovation is less appealing to me. Additionally, I live in fear of how many people accidentally walked in on their roommate having sex. By renovating the rooms they brightened up the place, and also uncovered the massive size of a Gund double. That double is bigger than my room at home- and I live like Veruca Salt when I’m kicking it in the 215. You might think that renovating Gund truly changed the atmosphere- but it didn’t. I’d like to note, that on an average weekend you can find me looking for the cheetos I dropped in my bed and usually googling the phrase “rich bitch in willy wonka” for my Thrill articles- I’m not a raucous girl like I was in my tweens. I think Gund has retained its ability to be a safe haven for most everyone, but I’m not sure that the dividers have done much to influence that- but thank god they’re gone.

Student B:

When Lewis and Clark discovered the prairie dog they could have never known the deep implications it would have on the pre-Class of 2017 Kenyon student. Indeed, there is nothing quite like the prairie dog-esque antics of popping over your divider to check on your roommate. Whether it was to wake them from their afternoon nap, or to give them important or ill-timed life advice, the divider stood for more than just a decorative option to give you more poster and shelf space: it was the literal divide between human beings, and showed the unique strength to overcome boundaries. To look beyond the divider was to make the conscious choice to break down your social barriers, to let someone see into your soul. Then, there was also the choice to stay on your side, to feel the sanctuary of your own home, while recognizing that humanity lives on just on the other side. The loss of the dividers is a loss for us all, a harrowing reminder that time moves on too quickly, too savagely. To quote Catullus: atque in perpetuum frater ave atque vale. You will be missed.