Breakups are rough, fellas, and that’s true regardless of where or when they happen. But some are a little more crappy than others.Continue reading
I’m just gonna go right out there and say it…. I miss Olin. Yes. I miss that ugly looking, depressing, cinder block palace and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Walking past the wall, ash falling from the sky, I think back to a time when I had a finite location to procrastinate, bother people in periodicals, and draw on whiteboards I never needed to be touching at all. It’s a sad fact that the mods just don’t do it for me like good old Olin. Olin was sexier, cooler, more low key. I have desperately attempted to find my “spot” for this year’s studying. I tested the waters of multiple locations and yet somehow most all of them failed me.
Very loosely based on a true story
It’s a fine fall/summer/swelteringly hot day of 90 degrees at Kenyon. You’re walking down the street and the birds, or should I say the construction sounds, are screeching and you’re headed to the bookstore to pick up your package. It’s your birthday. Mom sent you a box which you can speculate is probably filled with candy, cough drops, cough medicine, allergy medicine, tea, more tea, some more tea, your retainer that you “forgot at home”, and finally your birthday present which is a nice fat check. You stroll into the bookstore, down the stairs, and you wait on line behind all the sweaty students until finally it’s your turn. You say your name casually looking down at your phone, but wait there’s more. As the nice woman begins to inform you that they don’t have your package your heart begins to sink. Not have my package?? It’s my birthday! I got an email! You begin to explain the situation. You show them your email you state your name. With a confused look the nice woman breaks the news: Someone. Stole. Your. Package.
They told us that the construction behind the fence (in between Pierce and Olin) is to set up study spaces for when they tear down the library. But remember that time when the government said there was no such thing as Area 51? Exactly. So, what is really going on behind the fence? Here are the most likely theories:
1. Meth lab. Apparently the stuff is very addictive. This school is in rural Ohio afterall. Think about it.
2. Private residences for Decatur. It’s common knowledge that President Decatur feels that his current home isn’t close enough to the action on campus. Yes, he can see middle path from his bedroom window, but he can’t really see it from that far away.
3. Plot twist: the bookstore is secretly the new library and those trailers are going to become our new bookstore. Why else would this new “bookstore” have so many tables where people can study? Why else would it have so many books?
4. The trailers have no real function, they are just an attempt at changing the Kenyon aesthetic. People are tired of old Gothic collegiate architecture and stunning tree lined walkways and luscious plots of grass. Trailers are the one and only addition to this campus that will draw perspective students. Trailers and no library. If that won’t increase the number of applicants this year, nothing else will.
5. This is just part of a nationwide social experiment examining how wealthy, privileged millennials react when they are slightly inconvenienced.
6. It’s one of those “The Emperor’s New Clothes” illusions where there actually aren’t any trailers at all but none want to be the person that doesn’t see them so the lie is perpetuated.
The Kenyon College campus: what a beauty (shhh ignore the construction everywhere). We walk its paths everyday. We circumvent its seal in Peirce each meal. We marvel at the Twilight zone atmosphere of the temporary bookstore/old market each dawn and dust. And yes, we spend the majority of our time on the hill, but how well do we really know its lay out? How accurately can we map the campus from Bexley to Old K? Or actually, from Snowden to the Tafts? This is what happened when we tested our spacial knowledge… Continue reading
There’s a table in the bookstore that I’ve been particularly fond of for a few years now. It’s a little round ditty for two next to the window. It’s a perfect location– isolated enough to share private sagas of heartbreak and friendship, but it is also snug up against the window so passersby can see how many friends I have. At that very table, I’ve had some of the best conversations of the past few years. More importantly, I’ve heard (and spilled) really juicy gossip at that table (using a volume just quiet enough so that the bookstore customers can’t hear what I’m saying, but just loud enough so that they know they’re missing something good). One could say I became a man at that table. At the very least, I’ve eaten thousands of over-priced chocolate-covered almonds there.
Like many other weekday nights throughout my college career, I was sitting at that Very Special Table on a Monday in February. The windows were painted with cute scenes of innocent kittens playing with balls of yarn. My friend Andrew Perelman (whose name I use in full so that if any future employers google him, they know about his involvement) walked by on the sidewalk outside and saw me at the table. He came up to the window and waved.
It should be noted that I startle easily.
Valentine’s Day may be over and done with, but romance is still alive and kicking at Kenyon’s very own bookstore. While the array of chocolate draws acclaim from students and faculty alike for its variety in flavor (and cost), the candy section is most well-known for one thing: sex appeal. The turns of phrase employed on many chocolate bar wrappers are enough to make any self-respecting collegiate go weak at the knees. If you’re looking to be seduced by 1.55 oz of sugar and cocoa bean, read on to discover The Thrill’s rundown on the sexist bars of sugary nonsense ever found in this neck of the woods.