Walking into Peirce the first week after break, something felt off. Something had changed, but what was it? Throughout dinner that night, no one said a word, too preoccupied with the cause of this malaise– the sudden disappearance of the speed bumps that once surrounded Peirce. So what happened to them? As Kenyon’s top investigative journal since 1824, The Thrill strives to enlighten the student body with the truth, so we were on the case to solve this mystery.
Magellan circumnavigating the globe. Leif Erikson first setting foot on the North American continent. The moon landing, if you believe that sort of thing. What do these all have in common?
They’re all stories of exploration and discovery, of broadening horizons both on the maps and in the minds. These tales are meant to educate, but more than that, they’re meant to inspire. And I can say with full surety that it was the spirit of these great adventurers before us that guided this Thrill-based expedition into the infamous Kenyon Pit.
Come join us on our journey.
The Wall. Our humble and benevolent Olin Wall that provided us with security and safety from the reality that was asbestos and demolition. Beyond the rumble and bustle that we heard from the great beyond, the Wall was simply just a wall. But then, tragedy struck. We all saw the snapchats of that fateful October evening as the wind gusts blew over our beloved while we sat shivering in our damp dorm rooms, waiting for the apocalypse to begin, as it surely must when such a wall is reduced to nothing. For when our wall came crashing down, so did our inhibitions and the notion that we were in fact safe from the horrors that lay beyond. But is it really such a surprise that such a monument came crashing down upon us? I think not. Slap on your conspiracy theory caps, because after careful digging and consideration, I’ve somehow attempted at trying to understand why this day, why October 28th , 2018? Here are some of my attempts at making sense of this tragedy.
As someone who chose Kenyon partly for its aesthetic appeal, this past year has not been great for me. So far I’ve witnessed the execution of Olin, the takeover of the mods, and the annual transition of Middle Path from a scenic walkway to a mile-long puddle. At least there has been one group of constants in my life: Kenyon’s holes. Wide or narrow, deep or shallow, these holes never fail to catch my attention and make me think, “This will do.”