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Finding Meaning in the Misery of Finals Period
It’s the worst time of year again: finals period. The misery of sitting in front of a laptop from 6 in the morning until midnight everyday, typing papers and reading lecture notes, is unspeakable....
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D.C. Summer
Yesterday marked two weeks that I’ve been in D.C. I’ll be here all summer, interning at The Heritage Foundation. Look forward to updates about every two weeks about what’s going on with Southern Belle...
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Writing This Summer
In this blog, I want to make two points about writing: (1) to apologize profusely about my lack of writing for this blog and (2) to tell you about the writing I’ve been doing related to my internship...
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Summer Recharging
I love Yale. I really really really do. I love listening to the bells in Harkness Tower play twice each day. I love the way Old Campus looks as the seasons change: vividly green at the start of the...
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Everybody Loves Yale
No really. Everyone loves Yale. Just read what the Princeton Review has to say: Listening to Yale students wax rhapsodic about their school, one can be forgiven for wondering whether they aren’t...
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Fall at Yale
Y’all, today the weather finally turned cold cold cold (it snowed a bit this morning). The arrival of winter weather basically marks the end of my final fall at Yale. If you can ever visit Yale, visit...
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Lesson from Finals Studying
Hi y’all. New Haven has entered the dreariest time of year — fall semester finals period. It is the worst of times, not only because of finals but also because of the frigidly cold weather. Add to that...
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First Semester of Lasts
Senior year really is both the best of times and the worst of times. It is the worst of times because of the stress of the job hunt and the fear of the future — of the unknown that awaits you after...
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Fighting the Long Defeat
When I was growing up, from as early as I can remember, my daddy would read to me every night before I went to sleep. And I don’t mean just when I was little and was learning to read. No — my daddy...
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Made to Worship, Called to Love
Everyone expects me to have a plan. And it’s not just me — everyone expects every 22-year-old graduating from college to have a plan. To have some sort of dream of where you want to be in ten or twenty...
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