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.Continue reading
Limber up and flex your inner selfish tendencies because it’s that time of year when all you can do is look out for number one. It’s the housing lottery and we asked our first year writers to react to their first experience involving this animalistic, bureaucratic ritual. Continue reading
It’s November, so I’ve been thinking about Hell a lot. Good thing that I read Paradise Lost in my English 103 class last year because now I am an expert on Hell. My Expert status is deserved mostly because I made it through that class. Anyhow, here are some ways that Kenyon resembles Hell.
- “Yet from those flames/ No light, but rather darkness visible.” (1.62-63) I mean, when was the last time you spent any time in the sun? Sometimes I see it through the windows in Olin. But even then, I’m not sure it’s anything but an illusion cast by the immortal night that has taken over Gambier. Continue reading