MIRROR 11.06.2015
the colors of loneliness|2
there’s no place like home|3
Taboo @ Dartmouth|4-5
baring it all|6 Alison Guh /THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
2// MIRROR
The Colors of Loneliness
EDITORS’ NOTE
Mary Liza Talks Three Types of Lonleliness We All Feel feature
During Maddie and Maggie’s freshman year, they quickly formed a little crush on a senior boy. Because of his very distinct (read: beautiful) spectacles, they nicknamed him “Glasses Kid.” He just looked so hip, so studious, so worldly. He probably read Sartre (in French) by day and played classical Spanish music on his guitar by night. He was our real life Jim Sturgess from “21” (2008) — the quintessential Ivy League badass. They hoped that one day he would notice them. He never did. With a network of about five girls, Maddie and Maggie became savvy to Glasses Kid’s whereabouts as they got notifications via snapchat and group messages with each spotting. Glasses Kid walking his fraternity’s dog on the Green? Maddie and Maggie would know. Glasses Kid sneezes particularly loud in the 1902 room? Maddie and Maggie got a snap of the back of his head. But why would Maddie and Maggie reveal such embarrassing (and creepy) details of their freshman lives? Because 1) It was very public knowledge that they had a crush on Glasses Kid and 2) this is the taboo issue, and they didn’t want to share anything that was actually taboo (Hi Mom!). Luckily, the writers this week weren’t so reluctant to ask the nitty-gritty. This week The Mirror tackles loneliness and students’ homesickness on campus and the various traditions of nudity around the Ivy League. Also in a survey, we asked the students to reveal their most taboo moments. Bon Appetit! —Ol Mads and Lil Mags
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MIRROR R MIRROR EDITORS MADDIE BROWN MAGGIE SHIELDS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF KATIE McKAY
PUBLISHER JUSTIN LEVINE
EXECUTIVE EDITORS LUKE McCANN JESSICA AVITABILE
B y Mary Liza hartong
Color 1: The Post-Trip Lonely Close your eyes and take a moment to remember how you felt right after Trips ended. You were on top of the world, weren’t you? Stepping off the bus, gathering your belongings, hugging your Trip leaders and Trippees goodbye for now, you believed Dartmouth would be everything it had promised to be — and more. You were totally happy, buoyed by the music of the Lodge still echoing in your head like an inside joke shared between 1,500 people. Dr. Seuss had never been more right about all those places you’d go and people you’d meet, because you had just met your best friends for the next four years, hadn’t you? You felt like calling your mom and telling her you were going to be okay. Remember this moment. Then, remember how you began the trek to the River, the Choates or East Wheelock. Remember the emptiness of that white room, the thump of your frame-pack on the greyish brown carpet. You drank a big sip from your Nalgene, took a deep breath and thought, “Now what?” As the minutes passed, that “now what?” grew louder and louder, reverberating off the walls of your room like a menacing siren. You didn’t know who you could call or who you could spend time with or even who you could eat with. You didn’t want to “bother” anybody. Not your Trippees, who were probably tired or had practice for the sports teams they had already joined, and not your Trip leaders who were off seeing their friends or driving home. You couldn’t call your parents because you were pretty sure you’d cry on the phone and they’d ask if you’d made the right decision. You kicked yourself for feeling this way because you just had such a fun time and why were you ruining it with thoughts like these. You asked yourself, with considerable fear, “Is this what college is going to be like?” Color 2: The Night Out Lonely This can happen at virtually any point in your Dartmouth career because it has nothing to do with age, number of friends, alcohol consumption or confidence. The scene is always the same — your friends decided it was a perfect night to “go out.” It doesn’t matter where they wanted to go — Barhop, Molly’s, the frats, a house party, someone’s room, West Leb, what have you — because you’re going with them regardless. In preparation, maybe you got dressed up or you drank a little bit. Maybe you grabbed some Late Night Collis or listened to some “pump up” music. Maybe
’19 at late night: “We’re going to have to segregate the tenders!”
“Something funny someone said ’19: “Muscle Milk doesn’t even have that much inprotein, Collisbro. thatMyone night.” —Drunk mom bought some at Costco and it’s only like 20 17grams.”
you even texted someone you liked, casually writing, “Maybe we’ll run into each other tonight” like you hadn’t proofread the words and checked them with your friends a hundred times before pressing send. In any case, with a host of expectations for the night — maybe I’ll meet someone, I’ll have so much fun dancing, I’ll never forget this moment — you set out. Your first indication that the night might not go as planned was the fact that it was too cold outside. You shivered, but pushed away your discomfort. You were going to have fun tonight, dammit. You made yowur way inside. It was probably way too loud for your taste, but again, you tried not to care. Forty-five minutes went by, or an hour or three hours. You were either wedged between two people making eyes at each other or you were texting in the corner. You were waiting in line for the bathroom. You were asking if anybody wanted to leave and nobody did. Even with throngs of people around, you felt more alone than ever because you felt that your thoughts and feelings were totally out of line with everyone else’s, everyone else is having fun, falling in love, YOLO-ing to perfection. Color 3: The Everyone’s Busy Lonely Everyone you know had more work than they could handle and bragged about it relentlessly. “I pulled an all-nighter to finish this paper,” one of your friends boasted. Another countered with, “Yeah, well I pulled three allnighters this week.” You observed this warfare of out-busying others with a certain degree of disbelief — in high school you bragged about getting work done, not having too much to deal with — and probably engaged in it every now and then yourself. Your alone time with your friends turned into group masochism, logging impossibly long hours on First Floor Berry like long distance runners. Your medals were baggy eyes and cups of coffee. Then, something bad happened to you. A close relative died, a relationship ended, the doctor handed you a diagnosis, you didn’t get the job, you were assaulted, you lost your scholarship, you missed a deadline, your dog got sick or everything just became too much to handle. So you ran to your cluster of friends, who at this point were just a cluster of heads bent in concentration, and you asked one of them, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Your friend did not look up, only said, “I’m really swamped right now. Can we talk later?” You replied, “Sure.” Your problem did not go away, did not mute itself until a later date,
ELIZA McDONOUGH / THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
Mary Liza talks about feeling lonely at Dartmouth. but instead probably grew a little bit. Not yet discouraged, you found another friend. This person, though sorry, was equally busy and had no choice but to reject your request at this time. Another, and another, and the additional sting of people only casually asking, “How are you?” to which you are practically forced to reply, “I’m good.” You were reminded of Barbra Streisand’s song in “Funny Girl,” the words “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world,” and you cursed Barbra Streisand because you did not feel like the luckiest person in the world, but instead the loneliest. Dartmouth, I’m not trying to say that everyone here is lonely all the time. What I am saying is loneliness is a lot like Voldemort. Nobody in the wizarding world wants to say the word “Voldemort,” but as Hermione points out, fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. Allowing yourself to say the word “lonely,” as opposed to the more “He who must not be named” alternatives like “I’m just tired” or “I’m fine” is the first step to eliminating loneliness. Knock on someone’s door, text someone, answer someone honestly when they ask, “How are you?” and say, simply, “I’m lonely.” You might end up taking an hour to get coffee with that person who just asked how you are. You might call your parents and be honest with them, too. You might just find that you feel a little less lonely after finally admitting it. And if you’re not, that’s okay, too. You do you, Dartmouth student. You do you.
’16: “I’m saving the environment by taking notes over my notes… It’s actually just called laziness.”
’16: “I dreamt that I was a biomolecule the other night.”
’16 One: “I’m just proud myself “Something funny for still wearing pants.” ’17: “Would you somelike to hear more ’16 Two: “The other dayone I said in Collis that one neuro facts? No? Well, you’re celebrated myself because I night.” —Drunk 17 welcome.” showered.” Check out Overheards and Trending@Dartmouth on
There’s No Place Like Home Students Reflect on Feeling Homesick. STORY
MIRROR //3
Trending D @ RTMOUTH
B y LILY HINES and SARAH KOVAN
Aside from us, there are approximately 1,114 other ’19s at Dartmouth. They come from across the globe — from here in New Hampshire to Thailand to Kenya. And yet, we haven’t a heard a single one of them admit to being homesick. As any psychologist, counselor or person who has in their life been a college freshman could probably tell you, feeling homesick is perfectly normal. Why, then, has it become such a taboo subject? Why do we feel so much pressure to prove to our family, friends and perhaps most importantly our social media followers that college is everything we could have ever wanted and more and that we are already “killing it” our first term on campus? Emma Hartswick ’17 from Underhill, Vermont, who serves as an undergraduate advisor for the first floor of Russel Sage Hall discussed her desire to adjust quickly to college without feeling homesick. “Freshman year, I think I had — and a lot of people have — this desire to seem like I had it all under control like, ‘I’m super cool. I live away from home. I’m a big girl now,’ Hartswick said. “I think it’s a little harder freshman year to figure out what level of openness is okay with your peers, so homesickness is something I try to incorporate into floor meetings and one-on-one meetings with residents.” Even though UGAs like Hartswick have made an effort to open up this discussion, Megan Morris ’19, who hails from Glen Ellyn, Illinois, noticed that her classmates, floormates and friends are often reluctant to admit to being homesick. “Not a lot of people like to talk about it because they don’t want to seem pathetic or embarrass themselves, and they want it to seem like they’re having a great time and everything
is perfect,” she said. “But that is not always the case.” Yet, some freshman have been living away from home for many years before coming to college, so they already know how to deal with the feelings of missing home. San Francisco native Reed Horton ’19 adjusted to life away from his family as a high school freshman when he started boarding school at Deerfield Academy in Massachusetts. “I got super homesick my freshman year of boarding school, but I kind of figured it out after that. I had basically gone to college for four years before starting here,” he said. For those of us who are now making that transition for the first time, Hanover can seem like a world away from home. For some, it is even farther than others. “Last Wednesday, my friend’s dog had to be put down, so she took the coach home to Westchester, [New York],” said Sara Harris ’18, who grew up in Highland Park, Illinois. “She said that was really hard, dealing with that loss, because she really wanted to be at home with her family.” Harris said that listening to her friend’s story, all she could think about was the fact that she’s from the Midwest and probably couldn’t have just dropped everything and paid for a flight home if her dog had died, no matter how sad it would have made her to miss the funeral. “So its just interesting, the isolation of Dartmouth sometimes can be different for people,” she said. For students like Harris and Nelly Mendoza ’19, from Houston, Texas, whose families do not live in New England, keeping in constant contact with loved can be difficult. “My family understands that I’m busy, so they don’t call every day,”
Mendoza said. “I’m the one who calls them. It helps because I feel in control instead of them controlling me.” Mendoza also said that while she often gets homesick, she thinks that being so far from home also provides a positive example for others back home. “I’m the first one to leave the house so all of the little ones think it’s so exciting that I’m in college,” she said. “It helps them do better in school. They see that I’m far away and think that they want to do that, too.” Hartswick was not afraid to admit that she experienced homesickness during her freshman fall. She explained that she dove right into school at the expense of forming supportive bonds with people around her and on her freshman floor. By the end of freshman fall she longed to be at home, and unlike many of her peers, she was not “super jazzed” for winter term to start. Then, winter term she began to form networks of friends, and by finding her community here she began to feel less homesick. “That changed pretty quickly. During winter term, I got really close to my freshman floor, and then it was sort of the opposite story where I didn’t want to go home before spring break. I think, for me, it was about finding my community here,” she said. Some freshman arrive on campus with a built-in community. Tucker Brown ’19 from Greenwich, Connecticut, for example, who has an older brother who is a ’17, considers himself lucky because when he feels homesick he has someone from home close by who he can talk to. He highlighted the importance of these conversations and urged students not to be shy about discussing homesickness. “It’s hard to start that conversation, but once you do, it’s worth it,” Brown said. “It’s not like it’s something to
MAY NGUYEN /THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
Many Dartmouth students, like the photographer of this photo, keep reminders of family in their dorm room.
be ashamed of because college is a completely new thing and it’s natural to miss home.” According to Hartswick, who regularly meets with freshmen who live on her floor, there are two parts of “that conversation” mentioned by Brown. “One is helping people realize and recognize that it’s totally okay to be homesick,” she explained. “For a lot of people, this is the first time that they’ve been away from home for an extended period of time or even their home state for an extended period of time. It’s okay to sit with those emotions and feel them. That’s a good thing, I think.” Hartswick explained that the second aspect of it is helping students enjoy the rest of the term and feel present on campus. She hopes to guide students to find communities on campus where they can feel safe and at home and explore their interests. For Morris, finding a community has meant joining the Decibelles and getting to know as many of her peers as possible. “I think that getting to know a lot of different people, saying hi and forming good relationships here makes it seem a lot more like home,” she said. “That’s the biggest aspect that you miss, having some support, someone who you can really be yourself around. So I think forming those relationships has been my biggest effort there.” Even if you are already warmed up to Dartmouth’s culture (and its not so warm November climate), that doesn’t mean that you don’t miss home at least a little. Dylan Burke ’19 explained that he missed the relaxation of being home. “I miss waking up with nothing to do and not waking up until I have zero reason to be in bed anymore,” he said. Morgan Quental ’19 also acknowledged that she longed for many of the comforts of being home with her parents. “Living in the dorm is fun, but there are so many things that, when you’re home, your parents do for you — like going to get food — that take up a lot of time. It all adds up,” she added. “Honestly, I miss my dog more than anything. He would always be next to me while I’m doing my homework, so I miss that.” Homesickness may never become a go-to icebreaker at frat parties, but as upperclassmen can attest to, it is an inevitable part of the college experience. Yet as students get older, they become more comfortable discussing the experience of craving the comforts of home. “I think it’s funny because homesickness gets less taboo for upperclassmen,” Hartswick said. “They’ve found their community here, but also there’s more acknowledgement of who they are, what they’re feeling and what’s important to them. Recognizing what your feelings are and saying you can’t wait to go home over break and have your mom’s cooking.”
Late Sundresses
Wear them now, because this is it until May.
DBA Rationing $100 of rollover DBA doesn’t matter if you’re -$200 every term.
No-Shave November Great cause, not so great look.
Formal Season
That’s why everyone but you is dressed up right now.
Group Projects Go to Novack for some prime FaceTime.
government 10 surveys
We still haven’t won free Morano.
Getting Jobs We hate you all.
4// MIRROR
MIRROR //5
Madeline Brown /THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR
6// MIRROR
Baring it All:
Nudity and Tradition Across the Ivies story
B y caroline berens
In one part of campus, students sit in the worn armchairs of quaint Sanborn Library, reading about Voltaire’s ideologies, composing essays that debate the merits of capitalism or solving mathematical equations that would mystify even the most accomplished of engineers. Dignified in dress and sophisticated in speech, they illustrate a quintessential scene of Ivy League academia. In another part of campus, a completely naked and slightly inebriated student charges headfirst into the Connecticut River, screaming wildly as he feels the water’s icy temperature. His friend — also naked — is visible a short distance away, soaking wet and sprinting across the Ledyard Bridge, having just swum across the border between New Hampshire and Vermont. Such contrasting scenes are not unusual to Dartmouth students. After all, the Ledyard Challenge is just one of the College’s numerous nudity-focused traditions, along with streaking finals, the Dartmouth Seven and the blue light challenge. Although we consider these practices normal and acceptable, a closer examination may provide a different perspective — why do so many of our traditions require participants to be naked? Are we obsessed with nudity? As it turns out, many of our Ivy League peers have similar naked customs — some even, arguably, more bizarre than our own. At Brown University there exist two main traditions involving nudity — the so-called Naked Donut Run, which began in the mid-1980s, and Nudity in the Upspace, which begun three or four years ago. The Naked Donut Run occurs during the university’s reading period and involves naked students running through popular libraries and study spaces delivering donuts to students. Anthony Cherry, a member of Brown’s Class of 2018, said the intention of the tradition is to reduce students’ stress and that it’s generally a very popular and well-liked activity. “People love it if they’re in the libraries when it happens and are upset if they miss it,” Cherry said. “It seems to be a pretty amusing spectacle.” Nudity in the Upspace is a week-long program that features different nude events every day, which take place in a small blackbox theater called the Upspace. These events range from naked yoga to naked open-mic, Cherry said. Kenneth Cruz, also a sophomore at Brown, said that reception to NITUS has been largely positive. “Most people are a little skeptical, but it draws a very big crowd regardless and people are excited to do it,” Cruz said. Cherry likewise said it is a very well-received event and that people speak very highly of its long-lasting effects. “People who participated have said it was the single most body-positive event they’ve ever participated in,” Cherry said. Cherry and Cruz both said that such traditions and practices don’t seem strange to them due to the school’s very accepting reputation and nature. “Brown is Brown, so nudity isn’t controversial at all — in fact, it’s quite embraced,” Cruz said. An event similar to the Naked Donut Run takes place at Yale University, called the Naked Run. It too occurs during students’ reading period, and entails naked students running through Bass Library — often very crowded during this time — and sometimes handing out candy. George Huynh, a sophomore at Yale, said the event is intended to provide comic relief and
alleviate students’ stress before finals. Huynh said that when he first came to Yale he found the tradition a bit shocking, but later came to see that its somewhat odd nature wasn’t too unusual. “In general, I’m not surprised — Yalies can be quirky and strange,” Huynh explained. Huynh also described Yale’s famous naked parties, which function much like a typical party except that people take off all their clothes at the door. Huynh said he received a “strange invitation” to a naked party last year, but since he didn’t know what it was he did not attend. He said he imagines they would be a bit awkward, as people would feel much more insecure and reluctant to dance. He added, however, for both the naked parties and the naked run, people fall on a wide spectrum of interest. “I think there are a few people who are wildly enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, but many who are reluctant about doing it only because it’s a tradition they want to have participated in by the time they graduate,” Huynh explained. Huynh explained that many people are eventually persuaded to participate in such traditions, even if they’re hesitant, because they feel that they ought to do so by the time they graduate from college. At Columbia University, naked parties used to be prevalent but are no longer in existence, sources said. Columbia students also used to participate in naked runs, but sources said that too is now obsolete. At Harvard University, a naked run referred to as “primal scream” takes place during the end of every semester at midnight on the last day of students’ reading period. The tradition, held in the university’s central quad, called Harvard Yard, entails students taking one lap around the vicinity while completely naked. Nick Abbott, a sophomore at Harvard, estimated that between five and six hundred students participate in the event. The university’s marching band plays in front of the historic John Harvard statue while students run, Abbot said, adding to the night’s air of festivity. Abbott also noted that tourists — a frequent fixture on the campus — play a bizarre role in the tradition, but do not detract from the overall experience. “There are several tourists who will take pictures of you, which is concerning, but overall it’s a good time,” Abbott said. Abbott explained that although freshmen might initially feel skepticism or trepidation about participating, many are eventually motivated to do it by the strong encouragement of upperclassmen. He said that people’s confidence often increases, too, by drinking a bit beforehand. “A lot of people drink alcohol beforehand to muster up the courage, so generally by the time it rolls around, people get pretty into it,” Abbott said. At Dartmouth, the infamous Ledyard Challenge involves swimming across the Connecticut River while naked, starting on the New Hampshire bank and ending on the Vermont one. Once you escape the water, you have to scramble to the bridge above and sprint across back to New Hampshire, where your clothes (and hopefully not a Safety and Security officer) are waiting. Like with Harvard’s primal scream, some participants drink a bit beforehand, although not enough that it would impede their motor skills and make the challenge dangerous.
Seamore Zhu /THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
At Dartmouth, the Ledyard Challenge involves swimming naked across the Connecticut River. A member of the Class of 2017 who asked to remain anonymous due to the illegal nature of the challenge said that people like to have something that “takes the edge off” but due to the serious threat of drowning, only do so minimally. She said although she was initially skeptical of the challenge, it ended up being one of her most liberating and empowering experiences. “There’s a kind of rush, or thrill, that you have when you’re completely naked and exposed publicly like that. You’re so self-conscious, on one hand, but on the other you’re so caught up in the moment that it doesn’t really matter,” she said. The College also has the blue light challenge, a more elusive tradition, which seems to have few participants and entails a student, completely naked, running to every blue light on campus while simultaneously calling, but also avoiding, Safety and Security officers. In addition to these traditions, nearly every student at the College has witnessed a streaked final before, oftentimes with amusement in equal measure to the professor’s chagrin. According to multiple sources from each university, there are currently no prevalent traditions involving nudity at Cornell, Princeton or the University of Pennsylvania, beyond occasional streaking of events. Such traditions — which could be called primitive, or even animalistic, by the nature of nudity — stand in sharp contrast to the prestigious, sophisticated air of higher education, perhaps especially on Ivy League campuses. Why do such behaviors, then, hold such strong appeal to us? Huynh conceded that such activities might seem out of place on a college campus, and something like streaking would be more typical at an athletic event. “People probably consider streaking an act done by hooligans or crazy sports fans, so it would be weird on almost any campus, but especially strange for Ivy League schools,” Huynh said. Huynh added, though, that such reckless behavior is to be expected of our age group. Abbott expressed a similar sentiment about Harvard, explaining that there, like any other college campus, students sometimes act like “dumb college kids.” Cherry noted the differences between nudity in Brown’s Naked Donut Run and Nudity in the Upspace, explaining that the former is more “primal” in nature, but the latter is much more deliberate and meaningful in its focus on body image. “I do think it’s interesting that some nude
events seem to be more about fun and revelry, like the Naked Donut Run, and others are more serious, like NITUS,” Cherry said. “It begs the question — what makes some nudity fun and some nudity serious?” This juxtaposition, too, is apparent in comparing things like the Ledyard Challenge to Yale’s naked parties, which both involve nudity, but ostensibly serve very different purposes. Cherry also spoke to the empowering and meaningful aspects of nudity and how it can be used in multi-faceted ways. He explained that it can do everything from humiliate someone to make a political statement, from sexualizing to desexualizing, and from creating body confidence to having fun. The Dartmouth ’17 emphasized that she encourages underclassmen to participate in the Ledyard Challenge and streaking mostly for this purpose. “Yes, it’s fun and enjoyable, but honestly you come out of it much more comfortable in your own skin, and I think that’s something everyone could benefit from,” she said. Cherry also suggested that nudity’s stigma — whatever its origin — is perhaps what appeals to college students. “Whatever context it’s in, [nudity] seems to carry a stigma, and maybe that’s why it’s so prominent in the Ivy League — we love to do controversial things and break down social constructs and stigmas,” Cherry said. He said there’s also a mysterious allure to defying the cultural norm of being constantly clothed. The anonymous source from the College spoke similarly, asserting that perhaps enticement lies in these traditions’ often wild and illegal nature. “More or less, we have been following the rules for our whole lives,” she explained. “But everyone needs an outlet, and sometimes that’s done through things like this…when you think about it from that perspective, it actually makes a lot of sense that these traditions are so popular at such a high-achieving school.” She added that colleges all over the country and world have their own traditions involving nudity, too, and it’s certainly not exclusive to the Ivy League. Huynh said that, ultimately, such wild and carefree behavior is typical of our age group. “At the end of the day, we’re all just 18- to 22-year-olds doing dumb things for shock value and tradition, but especially fun, so I don’t find it too out of place,” Huynh said.
MIRROR //7
JOE KIND, A GUY
COLUMN
By Sam Van Wetter
STAY HERE FOREVER SAM and LET’S BLOW THIS POPSICLE STAND SAM are watching an impossibly early sunset from next to Shattuck Observatory
COLUMN By Joe Kind
I hate to admit it, but there is something special about going for a drive. I don’t have a car here, and I don’t want to pay for a Dartmouth Coach ticket. I lack the initiative to plan a trip via Advance Transit. A fall walk sounds pleasant in concept, but doesn’t quite fill the void. Last fall, I made plans to go to a high school championship swim meet to support my friend’s younger sister. It was to be a full Saturday — nearly a three-hour drive one-way — but I wanted to go, despite all of my mounting work. We would leave shortly after our morning swim practice, around 11:30 a.m. That morning, however, one of our assistant coaches announced to the team that he would be leaving the program at the end of the month to be closer to family and pursue other endeavors beyond coaching. He told us at the ver y beginning of practice, on the pool deck. We had no time to process the news. I experienced my first “croggle” that morning, a term referring to goggles that fill up with tears. The sensation is strange. In a regular swim practice, it is common for squiggles of water to brim in the corners of my goggles. My eyes can feel it, but are never irritated. Croggles are ir ritating. Relief only happens when the goggles are lifted up and onto the forehead. And in long swim practices, with few breaks at the wall, such opportunities are rare. My eyes weren’t so much cr ying, really. Heating up is a better way to put it. They itched, and they burned. That practice, I swam on autopilot — seemingly without seeing anything. I wasn’t sure if I was up for the swim meet after that morning. I wanted to go, but now I had a lot to process. I remember eating a rushed FoCo breakfast, a rare thing for me. As I was walking briskly back to my room across the Green, my friend called me. Forced to press pause, I sprawled myself out on the Green across from Rauner Librar y. It was a hazy and overcast morning, the usual fall chill. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” my friend asked me over the phone. “I mean, I want to go,” my voice trailed. “But it’s not like I am in the best of states.” A brief moment of silence filled the conversation. “You should come,” my friend said. “The ride is long.” It was decided.
SAM’S LITTLE LARKS
I picked up my things and walked to the Mid Mass parking lot, half in shame and half in excitement. Our playlists were ready, even if I was not. Before the meet started, we headed to her house for lunch. It was pretty close to what I had pictured, at the end of a windy cul-de-sac with a two-car garage. My friend’s mother had made us a delightful spread to fill us up happily for what was to come. We were given a house tour, and my friend loaned us Shenendehowa High School shirts to look the part for the meet. It is one thing to meet a friend’s parents, and it is another thing to step into a friend’s home. Homes bring a whole new perspective into a friendship, becoming more layered as a result of the process. Seeing physical manifestations of the quirks you unconsciously know so well, and of the stories you have heard time and time again — they allow you to better understand that person and the qualities you like most about them. The swim meet was ever ything I had expected it to be. My friend had built up the hype significantly over the last few days, and the hype delivered. The pool was packed with parents, grandparents, little kids and friends. I followed my friend across the pool deck and through the stands as she made eye contact with and waved at all the familiar faces to her. Her sister had a fantastic swim meet, as did her closest friends on the team, but alas, the rival school inched away with the championship. This year’s meet is sure to be another crowd-pleaser. We stopped for Chipotle on the way home. The real reason driving most of my get-away trips — food. I cheerfully utilized my newfound legality and splurged on what turned out to be a crappy margarita. It was so bad I didn’t want to finish it, but the purchase in itself was a satisfying one nonetheless. We returned to campus well into the evening, around 10 or 11 p.m., whereupon I quickly went to sleep. It had been a long day. The next day would be a late one, surely. There is something about this time of year, the late fall. Autumn colors dissolving with the leaves, skies blending into shades of blue-grey as the days shorten — the calm before the academic storm of papers and practice tests, then the real tests. No matter where I am, I want to get off campus. Even if just for a moment.
STAY HERE FOREVER SAM: Man, only 11 days until classes are over. Where has this term gone? I don’t want to go home. I could stay here forever. LET’S BLOW THIS POPSICLE STAND SAM: Seriously? I’m so 15Finished with this ish. I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand. STAY: I can’t stand that attitude. POPSICLE STAND: It’s not an attitude. It’s a fact of being a Dartmouth student. We work our tuchus off for 10 weeks, constantly on call, constantly working and engaging and organizing and attending. It feels so good to finish, to check everything off your to-do list and not add anything to it. And winterim is the best — I mean seven weeks to just chill? So chill. STAY: I’d never leave if I didn’t have to. POPSICLE STAND: No way. STAY: I mean, it wouldn’t be particularly fun to stay here without anyone else, but if we could just stay, wouldn’t you? I feel like I’m just figuring out my routine by week 10, why would I want to just end it? POPSICLE STAND: You’re not ending it. It’s a hiatus. STAY: Yeah, and we get back and everything is different! There’s snow! There are people I haven’t seen in four terms! There’s no patio furniture outside of Collis! POPSICLE STAND: The only reason I can get excited for each new term is because I’ve had a rest. All work and no play makes Jack blucking neurotic. So we get to go home and see family, see our pets, sleep in our own beds, hell, just sleep in! And then we get refreshed, get reinvigorated and can come back and do it all again. STAY: But you’re wishing it away! Do you realize how few times we get to do it all again? POPSICLE STAND: Oh, don’t play that senior sentimentalism song again. STAY: It’s stuck in my head! Every time I leave to go home I can’t help but think about when, eventually, we won’t come back. We’ll be banished out of the kingdom and only be welcomed back at homecoming! We’ll be crusty! POPSICLE STAND: That’s only natural. STAY: I don’t want to be natural! I want to stay here forever! ROBERT FROST: You can! STAY: But you were only a student here for two months! ROBERT FROST: More or less. STAY: And you never really came back, right? ROBERT FROST: I’ll have you know I received two honorary degrees from Dartmouth. POPSICLE STAND: Okay? ROBERT FROST: I’m the only one who’s ever done that. I think it was because I was a TDX. POPSICLE STAND: I think it’s actually because they really want to claim you as an alum. ROBERT FROST: Whatever. I got a statue. STAY: Is that how you do it? Stay here forever? ROBERT FROST: That and I have a lotta manuscripts in Rauner. STAY: So I should drop out, get famous, become a notable alum and hope they build a monument? SPACE FLAG: There are other ways. STAY: Like what? SPACE FLAG: I’m a Dartmouth pennant that was flown on the spaceship Columbia for a couple of months. Now I’m hanging in Collis and I’m pretty sure I’ll be there for a while. POPSICLE STAND: Sounds like a passive presence. SPACE FLAG: Yeah obviously. I’m a flag. But I get to chill behind glass and watch students walk by, read my plaque, get older and get smarter.
And then disappear. STAY: Forever? SPACE FLAG: Usually. Unless you come back with kids. STAY: Well, I don’t know how to become a pennant. But maybe you have a point. SPACE FLAG: I’m a triangle. I have three. STAY: No, I mean maybe the way to stay around forever is by having kids and getting them to come here. Not forcing them, obviously, but strongly suggesting and upselling and indoctrinating. POPSICLE STAND: That’s scary. STAY: No, you know what’s scary? Never coming back here. Dartmouth losing its relevancy as soon as you’re done with classes. You have to keep it alive, somehow. POPSICLE STAND: Why not just become a professor? STAY: That’s a thought. POPSICLE STAND: I don’t think they would hire you. STAY: Probably true. POPSICLE STAND: Maybe you should fail. STAY: What do you mean? POPSICLE STAND: Stop going to classes. Don’t turn in any homework. They can’t make you leave if you can’t graduate. STAY: That’s another thought. It could be expensive. POPSICLE STAND: Yeah. Not worth it. STAY: How do you know? POPSICLE STAND: I know because that’s not the point of Dartmouth. It’s not the point of any education. We’ve had a good run here, I know. We’ve figured it out pretty well. Between now and June it will only get harder to leave for breaks, but then it will be ultimate break and it will be impossible to come back and make it all feel the same as it does now. But the point is that we learn things, we learn facts and skills and we learn about ourselves and we take that into the rest of the world and make these years count, make our hard work pay off to something greater. STAY: Something greater than Dartmouth? POPSICLE STAND: I hope so. STAY: I still think I want a street named after me. POPSICLE STAND: I think they’re all already named. STAY: Okay, then a dorm. Or a lab. Or one of those newfangled housing clustery things. POPSICLE STAND: Yeah, “School House” could definitely be improved. STAY: “Van Wetter House?” POPSICLE STAND: Maybe not. But you have time to think about it. While you make money and make a difference and give Dartmouth a reason to name something after you. STAY: I think I’ll just move into the clock tower. They can’t make me leave if they don’t know I’m there. POPSICLE STAND: That’s an option. They stand for a moment watching the sunset. POPSICLE STAND: F**kin’ daylight savings. Midnight at six o’clock. STAY: It’s a metaphor, isn’t it? Our own midnight is fast approaching. POPSICLE STAND: No, it’s just dark. Let’s go back to the library. I gotta finish this paper if I ever want to see my mom again.
8// MIRROR
Never Have I Ever... The Mirror Asks Students about Taboo Topics at Dartmouth Survey
B y YOu
What are the most taboo topics at Dartmouth? Drug/alcohol use. Mental illness. Socioeconomic status. Race. Class. Har vard. Greek life being bad; some aspects of Greek life like AD; transferring or wanting to transfer; being an introvert. Drug abuse for test per formance (aka snorting Adderall). Sexual fetishes. Depression/anxiety. Having any non-moderate political or religious beliefs. Sexual assault. Cheating. Masturbation (among girls). Alternative sexual lifestyles and preferences, including kink and BDSM. Maybe white cisgendered males aren’t out to get ever ybody and are people like ever yone else. There are inherent and measurable differences — both physically and mentally — between the abilities of males and females. Anything that can be perceived as negative toward activist groups (especially the LGBT or racial ones). Discrimination or inequality. Depends who you’re talking to. If it’s a person who’s affiliated, it’s how alienating and depressing the Greek system can be to non-affiliated people. That’s just one that comes to mind. Cheating in relationships. Tripcest on Trips. Floorcest. FSPcest. I know we’re making an effort to open up about it more, but I still feel like class issues and socioeconomic matters are taboo. Anything that might offend anybody. Being unaffiliated. I’d say not liking Dartmouth, honestly. Grades. It’s ver y taboo to not “be okay.” Also to not be involved in things constantly. Money, student loans. Feelings/emotions. The outside world. Sex. Exercising. Conser vativism. Religious beliefs. Financial aid and affirmative action. A lot of things seem pretty taboo here. Nights in (as opposed to nights out drinking). Casual sex among girls. Sexual assault and alcohol abuse. Race disparity of performance. What schools you got into other than Dartmouth (trivial but pretty unanimous), socioeconomic status, personal mental health issues and disabilities (these are becoming less taboo now). Incest, dissing #BlackLivesMatter, supporting Phil Hanlon. Sleeping around and sexuality. I saw a girl take off her top at a frat last weekend. She wasn’t wearing a bra so she was just full on tits out. I saw a lot of people whispering about her. I think socioeconomic status is both taboo and not taboo. People hint at it all the time, and yet it’s skirted often as a topic, particularly when someone comes from a lower SES. I feel like love, interestingly, is also a taboo topic at Dartmouth. I have friends in committed relationships that are ver y ner vous to disclose how crazy they are about their partner because they’re worried they will be judged. Mental health is also relatively taboo. I know many people afraid or ashamed to admit they are struggling. The fact that we’ve become a part of today’s victimization-culture is unbelievably
taboo. We’ve decided to stop differentiating between something that’s a little offensive and something that’s truly racist/sexist/ homophobic/etc. just because it’s easier to do than sit there and think through what we hear. We don’t put thought into processing what we hear anymore, and instead, we find a way to call it an “ism” (racism/sexism/ etc.) in order to make us look cultured and educated and like champions of those issues. Rather than heroic, I think we end up looking immature and ignorant/intolerant of other people’s views, and in my opinion, lazy. Mentioning any of this to anyone is guaranteed to start a fight. Columbus Day is ver y taboo here. Religious beliefs — not necessarily that you are one religion or another but what you actually believe. Coedine and Adderall. Socioeconomic status, mental health and LGBTQIA+ issues. Sex (intimate details), hypocritical relationship between beliefs (political, religious, moral, etc.) and action (relationships, jobs). Breaking the honor code. Admitting to NOT drinking and partying and hooking up all the time. Any conser vative social beliefs. Economic status and pedigree, especially in the context of race. Race by itself can be casually discussed in the right circles. People’s past hookups. Slut shaming. Saying something culturally insensitive. I would say NOT doing something taboo is actually a taboo topic at Dartmouth. Ever yone is way to worried about political correctness that no real debates can happen. Body image. White privilege. Cigarette smoking — seems to be judged most. Anything kinky or anything politically incorrect or disagreeing with/questioning a minority. Details of someone’s personal mental health issues, rather than the issue as a whole. Also, actual instances of suicide. What is something you’ve done that you wouldn’t want your parents to know? I’m not a virgin. Smoked pot. Had sex in public. Streaked the Green. Completed three of the Dartmouth Seven. Smoked weed. The Ledyard Challenge — with someone of the opposite sex :O My eating habits. Got a tattoo. Dartmouth Seven. Drugs. I literally cannot think of anything that I haven’t told my mother or that she does not know by inference. That I drink as much as I do. Taken medication for my depression. If I didn’t want them to know then I certainly wouldn’t tell a publication. I had to buy Plan B. Been in a ver y taboo BDSM relationship. Pretty much anything that I do ever. Probably sleeping over at my boyfriends place ... a lot. They’re conser vative about sex and stuff. Getting caught doing the Ledyard Challenge. Had sex with someone I had matched with that night on Tinder. Got super drunk and booted all over a patio while abroad. Made out with a girl. Written a paper on the day it was due or gone places alone at night with only people I didn’t know ver y well at the time. Masturbate. The number of people I’ve had sex with. Acid. And cocaine. And Molly. Oops.
Lied to them. I wouldn’t want my parents to know how many people I’ve been with. Sent nudes. Had sex on the roof of a frat while high on coke. Had sex with several people. LSD. Nothing — parents know ever ything. Nothing really, they know most things, sexual interests maybe. Had sex with a guy. Had sex without birth control. I watch lots of TV shows (my parents don’t watch TV). This summer I did acid and hooked up with my second cousin (at different times). Thrown up from drinking. Kissed a stranger in a frat basement. On my study abroad I woke up in the hospital. Twice. Hooked up with someone I barely knew. Watched porn. Started therapy and medication. Spent significant amounts of time doing drifts and burnouts in parking lots. Skipped classes because I was too tired to get out of bed. Booted in Collis. A lot. But probably the worst was getting high and having sex with a 30-year-old guy who had a fiancée while him and his friends were on their bachelor party trip. I hooked up with three different guys in a three-day span. I booted in the AXA kitchen trash. Smoked weed in my under wear and nothing else because I wanted to pretend I was Walter White. Streaked three finals in the same day. Got a tattoo. Had a one night stand. Snuck a boy into my house. That I’ve been sexually assaulted. I got caught have sex in the stacks. Eh, eventually I’m sure I wouldn’t care. But now? Cheat and mushrooms. Skype Sex. Cheated on a partner. I got caught by undercover cops using my fake ID but they let us go. I lost my virginity to an ’18 when I was a prospie. I have had sex with two different people within a four-hour time span. The amount I don’t sleep. Had sex my first time without a condom. That I’m a smoker. Going backpacking alone. I got so drunk that I threw up. Once. #neveragain I had sex with my boyfriend in their car and in the house while they were home. I have consumed so much alcohol in college. I had a pregnancy scare once. I had sex with someone who wasn’t my long-term boyfriend. I was sexually assaulted in eighth grade by my “boyfriend.” That I’ve hooked up. They’ve super conser vative. Black out weekly (or more). Too many to list. I had unprotected sex. I had my first threesome freshman winterim with two other Dartmouth students while the rest of my family was asleep upstairs. Threesome on a pong table :) What is something you wouldn’t disclose to your closest friends? I want an orgy with them. I cheated on my boyfriend with a woman. I have masturbated and had sex in the same common room. My issues with anxiety and depression and sometimes suicidal thoughts. They know ever ything. Sexual proclivities. Had a foursome during senior week.
I identify as bisexual. I kissed someone else the day before I broke up with my high school boyfriend for college. I had sex with an underclassman whose name I don’t remember. Some of my sexual turn-ons regarding kink. The enormity of my self-worth issues. Details about my sex life? I masturbate to the thoughts of my straight guy friends having sex with girls. I think I have a voyeur fetish. I blame porn. I act like I pray a lot more often than I actually do, even though other parts of my religious life are really important to me and I’m good at maintaining them. I hate Dartmouth more each day. I’ve never told anyone about when I was sexually assaulted freshman year. A lot of the time people tell me I look like I’m in great shape, but that’s partially due to my eating disorder. I like butt stuff, but I’m straight. Get a few drinks in me and there isn’t a thing. Family affairs. I’m into some pretty per verted things. Any personal insecurity. Hygiene habits. How often I bathe. I’ve failed a class at Dartmouth. Into tall girls. I believe in race difference in ability based on more than societal restrictions. Over freshman spring, I bought a rope off the internet with the intention of hanging myself. Nothing. I tell them ever ything without fail. My GPA is below 3.5. Had anal sex in a public place. I voted for Romney in 2012. It was a mistake. I was confused, and I thought I was a republican. Now I know I’m a flaming liberal. Only two people in the whole world know. I think I may actually be heartless. I don’t tr y to be, but I think I fake most emotions of love. I find a lot of my close friends super tr ying, and can only handle them in small doses. Nothing, because my closest friends (of which I have three), are like my brothers. I tell them absolutely ever ything, and our relationship is stronger for it. Several past crushes. Histor y of mental health issues. Details about my experience with PTSD. Having sex with a less than average looking girl :-( My computer password. I’m into BDSM. Embarrassing sex stories. Pretty much nothing, I tell my friends ever ything. I’m completely in love with my best guy friend and I know he doesn’t love me back. Some beliefs/things I said when I was in middle school (racist things). My opinions on reality. My quite lustful nature when I’m not on campus. When I was in 7-9th grade I participated in online chat rooms a lot and would send nudes or have Skype sex with just about anyone. I have had sex with five different people. Complications within my family. The things I worr y about. The things I don’t have answers for. I’m afraid of intimacy. At home I’d tell my best friend ever ything at Dartmouth I have kept a lot a secret. Describing my lowest points at Dartmouth. The thoughts on my mind. I’ve had suicidal thoughts before. Sometimes I think I’m a whore. Been raped. Personal family matters. They’ve heard it all. Schizophrenia. I don’t do it, but I still visualize harming myself. I’ve smelt another guy’s under wear before.
Eliza McDonough /THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF