I Can’t Possibly Go To Hell, I Don’t Know Anyone There!

Recently, a Kenyon calendar came in the mail. Aptly, my father has named it “places your kid isn’t.” “Here we are, Isla,” he says, “looking at all of these beautiful snowy pictures of a school you have barely even been to,” and I can’t help but agree. Some would take this opportunity to say, “Isla, do not continue a trend in your stupid little irrelevant blog articles of being an insolent brat and complaining that you’re not on campus. No one cares.” To that I would also agree. Good jab, some, you’re on the right track. In these unprecedented times, that some would refer to as “hell,” (some would be wrong, here), I consider all the fragments of hell that are also, coincidentally, places your kid isn’t, or more matter of factly, isn’t yet.

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BREAKING NEWS: Kenyon Announces “Fuck Them Kids”

Oh, dear Kenyon, you have decided to disappoint us once again. You have decided to move our graduation to before finals.

This brings forth a few questions:

  • If seniors are graduating before our final grades are in, what does that mean for students who are relying on their final grades for graduating with honors?
  • Do we just leave after our finals are done? Or before?
  • What are you going to give us in the care package? A water bottle and a digitally signed card by Sean Decatur?

Thank you for yet again, Kenyon, for reminding all of your seniors that you simply do not care that we have any kind of special final moments on campus. I really appreciate that you have chosen to bring back the sophomores, and absolutely not give a shit about the seniors. I know this is an intensely difficult position, but your choices through the last four years (particularly your handling of COVID) has been ridiculous and short-sighted. It’s not even about the parents being here– it is the fact that I will still be working on my senior comprehensive exercises when I graduate. 

At Kenyon you will (watch the school be run like a cartoon college). Don’t ask me for money.

10 o’clock list: Tragedies of Star-Crossed Lovers to Give You Hope or Schadenfreude

(MordeTwi) Airplanes by bluedog444, DeviantArt

Romance poets say love is pain, but love is also love and sometimes pain is just pain. Given that the annual amount of Valentine’s Day pain is higher than usual, I thought I’d share with you the stories of separated lovers across myth and time. Perhaps COVID is just another trial and tribulation in our neverending tale of love and loss and love again. Perhaps romanticizing struggle perpetuates it in the belief that only suffering validates happiness, which leads to people without power not seeking help or those in power not offering it. Either way, love hurts, so here’s my top picks for the heart-wrenchiest stories of all.

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How to Host Senior Soiree from Quarantine

For the class of 2021, the anticipated tradition of Senior Soiree is just another Senior Sorry :/ .

Normally the weekend before Thanksgiving break would be reserved for a flashy seniors-only Peirce formal. Underclassmen would be banished to their quads. Fairy lights would glow through the New Side windows, lighting up the Eastern horizon like a reverse sunrise. The school would buy us alcohol. 

Alas, this year is not normal, and frankly the idea of being packed in an enclosed room with hundreds of drunk maskless college students makes me want to claw my throat out. 

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