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Let’s face it: first semester Econ has been tough. You’ve neglected homework assignments, failed tests, and disappointed your professor — and, at this point, it seems like the registrar’s one-time “Mulligan” option might be your best bet at academic safety.
However, if you’re not into confrontation, chances are you’ve been considering the only other rational option: staging a home invasion, road tripping to Mexico, getting a job in a tinfoil factory, and maybe marrying a cute local to make yourself less suspicious in the eyes of the Mexican government.
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Picture this: it is your second weekend on The Hill. You and your friends have just skillfully finessed your way into LAX NCA, where the music is loud, the heat is oppressive, and some sophomore is dry-heaving into a bag of Doritos. You stay for a few minutes — just long enough to acquaint yourself with the entire first floor of Gund — before receding back into the tepid womb that is your first-year dorm.
Upon waking up the next morning, you feel different. Perhaps, you suppose, you’re a changed woman — perhaps last night’s sweaty pilgrimage finally transformed you into the poised, self-sufficient, borderline emaciated Kenyon girl that you’ve always aspired to be.
As it turns out, you’ve just developed a massive ulcer.
Dear Kenyon Community,
Let’s face it: roommates can be tough.
Not only are you forced to live with another human being, but you’re also expected to accommodate ALL of their lifestyle choices. Gross! Now, if you’re like me, you sometimes get frustrated by the things your roommate does. Also, if you’re like me, you’re currently sitting in the Kenyon College counseling office, waiting to face the consequences of plunging a No. 2 pencil into your roommate’s left breast.
Now, as I am currently (temporarily) barred from attending classes, the Kenyon Administration has given me ample time to reflect on my alleged mistakes. As such, I’m taking this opportunity to tell you all exactly why that one-tit-wonder had it coming.