The thing on his head is to make his ears stay upright as they grow.
I don’t care how hard frat boys at state schools say they go because nobody goes harder than a freshman girl who has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend.
There are moments in each of our sorry lives in which we experience a moment of human connection that transcends consciousness. I’m talking about the wordless exchange of understanding between two people on Middle Path where they mutually decide to pretend like they don’t recognize one another from the sloppy Old K basement makeout this past Friday. I’m talking about that “wow we’re all apart of something greater” feeling that happens when you emerge from the bathroom stall at the same exact moment as the person pooping next to you and you both lock eyes in the mirror. This stank: it’s yours, it’s mine, it’s ours. And I’m talking about the moment when I ended up on the floor of Peirce atrium and locked eyes with what I think are the eyes of the Kenyon Seal and wondered–no–realized that after years and years of lying there on the floor this seal, this beautiful, beautiful seal has probably never experienced the tender warmth of human touch. And I identified.
In the fall semester last year, I went to the observatory on a DATE with a GIRL.
Well the date actually starts with a bike ride into Mount Vernon, then a delicious dinner at Athens, and then on the way back, my significant other to be and I walk up the hill to the observatory via 229. Neither of us had been to the observatory and we didn’t really know where it is. I suggest that we follow the road assuming that eventually we will reach the observatory. My intuition would have served me right. But I’m a sub, so I listen to my date and take a trail that leads us to a campsite. There’s a bike, a tent, some pots and pans etc. Normal camp shit, but I’m shook. I hide my fear by asking questions about the culturally appropriative summer camp that she went to growing up. We turn around, get back to the road and eventually make it to the observatory.
Matchmaker, matchmaker, match me a catch! Match me a match, find me a catch! That’s right, folks. It’s our first semester back at Kenyon and love is in the air. I know that things can really suck for all you gorgeous single pringles out there, but don’t worry! I have a solution to your temporary bout of solitude! Today I am proud to present you with the most eligible crow bachelors of Kenyon College! These lovebirds are casting their beady little eyes on the student populace, searching for someone to call their own. Perhaps your other half has been right under your nose this entire time (or above– birds go up in the sky). Are you ready to meet these fabulous feathered fiends? Then let’s get started!
(Portraits drawn by that pigeon who snuck into Gund Gallery that one time)
At Kenyon we love English. We love planning to major in English and then not. We love the vague career path English leads us down when we do major in it. We love the English language that is our mother tongue.
And although we love how much we love English, the intensity of this love can sometimes distract us from what is really going go in the English department. So to clarify what each 100-level English course truly entails read on. Continue reading