A week ago, I darted up the stairs to my room, in a rush to enclose myself in my space and my mind, away from the world that was my dad shouting incoherently at Chris Wallace through the barrier of the television. I had gone to the library curbside pickup…
Marianne Gunnarsson
Viewpoint Editor
Not so long ago, I wrote a piece about transferring colleges twice. Two terms have passed, and I, ever the collegiate nomad, find myself in yet another situation of changing place and, consequently, changing identity. Whether we want them to or not, places shape who we are, define us; they…
I am often asked why I decided to learn Chinese, why I’m just so into it, and why I like foreign languages so much. The answer is simply that I fell into these studies arbitrarily, the result of a desire to expand my boundaries beyond the required four years of…
Mrs. Johnson Married Has no first name “I was born in 18th-century Antarctica and believe me, the year, circumstances, and opinions circulating at the time of my birth are still EXTREMELY relevant to today’s world, specifically Overheard at Carleton. Alums are VALID.” Edward Wellington III Single “Yes, it is I,…
By the time I was 18, the stars had simply never aligned in such a way as to inform me what I should major in during college, as they had, I presumed, for everyone else. No god emerged from a wine dark sea in the depths of my dreams to…
This school year brings an exciting new change to Carleton’s environmental and community initiatives: the revamping of what was once known as Clothing Connection into this term’s Clothing Recovery Network. Why the changes? According to Erica Zweifel, Temporary Associate Director of the CCCE, clothing collection at Carleton used to be…
Since my humble college start Thou hast twistèd love knots on my heart Those same whorls of dough of which thou art form’d, Of which my soul is too adorned, Puff like clouds from Bon App kilns And add saltèd hypertension to student ills Topped with hard salt and brown’d…
Publishing an anonymous article. We’ve all seen them, whether it’s in the Carletonian or a major news magazine. In fact, the Carletonian website lists no fewer than eight articles written anonymously. Each time I see an anonymous article, I, and frankly, many other readers, feel a mixture of irritation, confusion,…
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…
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…