It began on the night of NOlympics, when I was scheduled to return my New Student Week frisbee to its rightful owner, an inhabitant of Goodhue. After returning the frisbee, I observed a congregation in the Goodhue MegaLounge, cloaked in not only outdoor jackets, but also courage and hope. I…
Marianne Gunnarsson
I transferred colleges. Twice. What began as a stereotypical quest for the perfect college–complete with college trips and overnights, pretentious Facebook posts of me touching the lucky part of statues at Harvard and innocent frolicking through the fiery pit of collegeconfidential.com–morphed into daily tears, confusion as to what I wanted…