The Dartmouth 04/13/16

MIR ROR 4.13.2016

FLOP CULTURE | 2

FLUIDITY OF FRIENDSHIP | 4-5

NOT ALWAYS LOST | 6

TTLG: THANK YOU TO MY GIRLS| 8 ALISON GUH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

2// MIRROR

Lost & Found: Flop Culture

Editors’ Note

Hello, Mirror readers, and happy week three. Now that the weather has finally reached (slightly) above freezing temperatures it’s easier to believe that we’re already one fourth of the way into the spring term.

This week, the Mirror theme was inspired by a disastrous event in Caroline’s life: the loss of her MacBook charger. She suspects that someone might have stolen it from her belongings in the library when she left for a few minutes to get lunch at Novack it’s also possible that she just misplaced it. In any event, despite retracing her steps and aggressively (read: accusingly) asking all of her friends if they’d seen it, the poor editor is now charger-less. She could simply buy or order another one, but thanks to her recent “spending freeze” (which began after her spring break, during which Caroline spent money recklessly — including purchasing a small box of fine chocolates for $55.60) she refuses to do so. So now the editor, who used to enjoy doing her homework sitting on her bed, has been forced to study in the library where she can check out chargers for free. Needless to say, Caroline is considering amending her “spending freeze.”

When she relayed this tragic tale to Hayley, the two co-editors realized even one more thing they have in common: a propensity to lose belongings. Hayley shared how she has lost her student ID card at least six times since matriculating, which seems equally catastrophic to the loss of a MacBook charger — perhaps even more so, since without an ID you can’t really eat any food on campus. As the two editors debated which item was the worst to lose on campus (their consensus was a cell phone, which thankfully neither of the editors have lost yet) they decided to theme this week’s Mirror around lost and found.

Enjoy the issue!

follow @thedmirror

04.13.16 VOL. CLXXIII NO. 59 MIRROR EDITORS HAYLEY HOVERTER & CAROLINE BERENS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF REBECCA ASOULIN PUBLISHER RACHEL DECHIARA EXECUTIVE EDITORS MAYA PODDAR ANNIE MA

COLUMN

By Mary Liza Hartong and Andrew Kingsley

Today, we’re here to celebrate not pop culture, but flop culture. That is, long-lost fads that have been left in the past where they belong. Human history is filled with the what ifs and have nots.

These are the trends that almost made it, but didn’t quite have the stuff. You won’t find these in the history books.

Cute British accents during the Revolutionary War “Thanks love!” “Terribly sorry!” “Belt up ya barmy fizzog ya twit!” What do all these things have in common?

They’ll make anyone swoon if said in a British accent. The cute British boy minstrels “The Judas Brothers” wooed all the American girls of the 1760s with their loose bloomers and lack of dysentery. Their hit songs “Best Hymn Ever” and “Love Yourself (But Not Indecently)” caused even the crotchety old miller, Sir Chester Miller, to go weak in the knees. Their accents could stop witch hunts and consumption in their tracks. That is, until the Revolutionary War began and “The Judas Brothers” had to flee for their lives. Their siren songs were never heard again.

Hand Piercings, 0 C.E. Ear piercings were so 50 B.C.E. Tongue rings? Get out of here! The trendsetting Romans were looking for the next big thing and Pontius Pilates had run out of answers. After one too many Bacchanalia, daredevils Typhus and Lupus were playing gladiator, until Lupus accidentally skewered Typhus’ hand. The party

O ve r h e a rd yo u n ge r admissions officer to older admissions officer: “How do you even read 20,000 applications? I don’t know how you’d even do that!”

screeched to a halt. But the famous fashionista, Pilates, declared the pierced hand the future of fashion. Boy, did he nail it! Soon, all the Romans were clamoring to pierce their paws. That is, until Jesus rolled into town and totally ruined it.

Clifford the Big Red Dog during the Cold War Everyone remembers Clifford from their childhood. Who didn’t want a giant, crimson beast to ride around on in the late ’90s? Little do people know that Clifford originated in the ’50s as a symbol of national pride after World War II. That is, Russian national pride. Stalin chose the giant canine as the symbol for united workers, strong economy and borscht. Dogs of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your leashes! Eisenhower, however, put that dog down. Any American child seen idolizing the socialist monster was sent to the gulag and forced to eat borscht. Woof !

The 2004 ‘Katrina Doll’ Picture this. It’s 2004. Barbie is dominating the doll market and nobody could compete. American Girl and their dolls were floundering. They needed the quintessential doll that would topple Barbie’s tyranny. So they came up with Katrina, the all American girl who loved everything hockey, especially the Carolina Hurricanes. She took the doll world by storm, and soon Katrina dolls were flooding the market. Mat-

’18 # 1: “I’m scared of Sherman Art library.

It’s so quiet and unfamiliar.” ’18 # 2: “Well, so are most of the guys you hook up with.”

TDX ’16: “The professor was so smart I couldn’t even take notes because I couldn’t spell half the words he was saying.”

tel needed rescuing, but no one could save them. Even FEMA — Federal Emergency Mattel Aid — couldn’t help. Fortunately for Mattel, Hurricane Katrina swept the competition away the following year.

Cremation in Pompeii Traditional burials were so blah. A wooden box for all of eternity? No thanks. Hip Pompeiians needed to die in style circa 78 CE. Sacrifices were all the rage. Fire was on fire. Soon, all the sexy teenagers wanted to be incinerated. Hot! Unfortunately, Mount Vesuvius really harshed the mellow on this one.

Needless to say, the cremation business and everyone else were soon turned to dust.

Flea Markets and Rat Races after the Black Plague We all love a good flea market. Antiques, vintage clothes and delightful old women. But did you know that flea markets originated in the Middle Ages, where they actually sold fleas to people?

That’s right. Flea circuses were hotter than Satan’s wrath in 1320. And rat races. Everyone loved a good rat race.

I always put my money on Seabiscuit, the fastest thoroughbred rat in town.

Business was booming, that is, until people were dropping dead at the race track. Not because of the excitement, but because of the deadly pathogen that soon swept Europe faster than the flea market trend. Oh well, another pastime down the drain.

Female ’17: “If a guy doesn’t try to make a kick save during pong, does he even like you?”

Overheard in KAF: “I had a similar dream... it was about a self-driving car.”

MIRROR //3

Joe Kind: A Guy COLUMN

TRENDING @ Dartmouth

By Joe Kind

My ethics and public policy professor assigned the class a paper topic of particular salience for those preparing to enter the job market — “Among the occupational choices available to you, are you morally obligated to choose an occupation that (you believe) serves the social good?”

As a tour guide for the admissions office, prospective students and parents alike ask me why I chose Dartmouth at various points in the hour-long tour of campus.

Sometimes when I’m in the middle of a sentence. The question is clearly on their minds as they anticipate this difficult decision in their own lives.

Even in my fourth and final year here, I still engage in conversations with my friends about our paths to Dartmouth. The conversation never gets old, and neither does the question. Each story is unique and interesting, serving as a reminder of how privileged we are to be here and to have friends from

all over the country and the world.

Yet for some reason my friends and I rarely break down the decisions about our future career paths the same way. My friends and I don’t compare our employers’ firms, like we do with elite colleges and universities. And when it comes to a specific job, we assume that our professions reflect our passions. Identifying these passions is supposed to be the easy part of the process, arguably the very beginning of the process from which all professional decisions are made.

If only it were always this easy.

Four years ago, I had exact reasons for attending Dartmouth over other schools. It didn’t matter that I did not know exactly what I was going to do with my time here once I arrived. Similarly, I rarely had to ask myself why I was doing something in high school. At least in my high school community, it was so commonly accepted to do whatever it took to strengthen

one’s college application.

This game has changed throughout my four years here.

The professional world is not the kind of concrete end result that college was four years ago. Colleges fit into unique stereotypes, but different industries operate on different time frames, sometimes depending on the location, and sometimes within different cultural standards.

Facing a new kind of end game, we as students are forced to re-examine the means to that abstract and ambiguous end upon graduation. What are we as individuals willing to do to reach our specific goals? What goals must we create for ourselves to be truly happy and healthy, once we are settled into a world of complete independence?

A major selling point of Dartmouth, I think, is the fact that any kind of grade on a paper or midterm exam is simply not socially relevant. It is accepted that every-

one does well, or well enough, in the classroom, so talking about grade point averages draws discomfort. Our quarter system produces more rounds of assessments and scores. Students often turn to extracurricular activities to distinguish themselves in addition to their studies. The resources available to Dartmouth students, in and out of the classroom, support both of those choices.

I was the kind of college student who navigated several difficult classes before finally settling on a major. I treated my first year on the swim team here as a year of survival, doing whatever I could do just to finish the season.

It was never an option for me to fail a class or fail my commitment to the swim team.

What’s important is that I eventually determined my major, which I have loved, and that I was able to do more than just survive on the swim team. In both areas of my life, I eventually found success by reevaluating my goals.

Under this logic, there is no such thing as failing the real world. And under this logic there can be no such thing as a single social good.

It is difficult to say with certainty what is good for society because our understandings of good and success are so subjective.

A consultant is unlikely to define the social good in the same way that a social worker might.

Therefore, personal fulfillment has to come first. What is done with the fruits of such fulfillment is what benefits the so-called social good.

I do not mean to manipulate this column to preach my own set of values. As college students we will all at some point have to come to terms with our choices as they begin to shape the rest of our lives, both in professional and personal contexts.

College is the time to find oneself, supposedly, the time to develop a strong moral and ethical code from which all other important life decisions can be made.

Society generally defines employment as the light at the end of the four-year tunnel that is college. “Seeing the light” means securing a job. But society does not standardize what we see on the other side of the tunnel. The light is what we cannot see.

NEW GYM SCANIN It’s the little things in life.

THE RETURN OF THE BOX

Now that it’s week 3 and we’re already sick of DDS, The Box is a great alternative.

PISTACHIO MACARONS AT KAF

Clearly, Dartmouth loves food.

FRAT PRE-RUSH EVENTS

The guy flirting is kind of sickening.

PROSPIES

THEY’RE EVERYWHERE.

4// MIRROR

The Fluidity of Friendship STORY

By Lucy Li

When I first came to Dartmouth this past fall, I was genuinely concerned that I wouldn’t find “my people,” a sentiment that I’m sure many other freshmen shared.

Who was going to be my college partner in crime? My best friend? My rival best friend who would motivate me to do better? The twin I never had?

Fortunately, I was worried over nothing. Over the past seven months, I have found friends here who fill these roles, but in different shapes, sizes and forms than I might have expected. I’ve learned that anywhere you go, there will be a Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte in your life — inevitably, you’ll find people with whom you share things in common, who appreciate your quirks and enjoy spending time with you. It might not always happen instantaneously, and not all friendships are meant to last forever, but when you do find those with whom you truly connect, it’s something special.

College can even elevate typical friend-

ship dynamics, as you’re living with your friends in addition to attending school with them. They’re the ones with whom you discuss your day over the dinner table, from whom you seek advice when you feel sick and the ones who put you to bed after long nights out.

Ruminating on this made me wonder about friendships from before college versus friendships made here. To what extent do people here maintain their friendships from before Dartmouth? Are friendships here stronger because we’re all, to some extent, living together? Or does that not make a difference?

For me, coming to Dartmouth illuminated the friendships that were capable of surviving distance and change. It takes effort to maintain those friendships when you’re attending different schools, sometimes on opposite sides of the country.

Some friendships withstand that distance easily. Others don’t.

The friendships Lexie Lynn ’16 has

maintained from before Dartmouth are the ones she remained deliberately committed to.

“I think part of it was an intentionality,” she said. “Because we’ve put effort into it, it’s shown that the friendship is very valuable.”

It doesn’t always take four years to tell which friendships are long-lasting.

Carson Spahr ’19 said that his time here has already shown him that only the most valuable friendships from high school will last.

Spahr said that he mostly only maintains contact with his closest friends.

Even the friendships that we do maintain evolve. You will likely not be able to communicate as frequently as you did in high school, and you have to adjust to this new, less flexible schedule. However, this isn’t necessarily a negative thing.

Lynn said that good friendships don’t require constant communication, but rather an ability to keep the conversation

going even after some time has passed.

“Honestly, my best friend and I talk and text some and Skype sometimes, but with the rest of them its more of a pick it up where we left off when we see each other again, which I think is very valuable thing to have in a friendship,” Lynn said.

Spahr has had similar experiences with his friends from before Dartmouth, but added that physical presence undeniable plays a role in developing and maintaining friendships. As we form friendships here, we can’t help but sometimes put others on pause.

He added that he prioritizes friends from college over those from back home because he sees them more often.

However, despite the other friends with whom he’s lost contact, Spahr says that his best friend has remained not only a constant but an invaluable fixture in his life.

“When it comes to my best friend, he’s kind of the outlier,” Spahr said. “I’d say he is the exception.”

MIRROR //5

Not seeing your best friend every day is certainly a challenge. Geographical differences can also play a role in how frequently you even talk on the phone with people from home. Sometimes all I want to do is relay an event or experience to my best friend, but I know that she often can’t talk because we’re in different time zones.

Maintaining important long-distance friendships really requires a genuine effort, something that Lynn can attest to. She described a short rift with her best friend from home, when her friend felt like Lynn wasn’t doing her part in their friendship.

“We had this falling out, like a failure of communication. She asked, ‘Is this friendship even valuable to you anymore?’

That was kind of a wake up call for me,” she said. “I think I tend to be really bad at keeping in touch, but it made me realize it’s important that the effort comes from both sides.”

For others, it seems that as time at Dartmouth passes, they are instead more

motivated to stay in better touch with old friends. Timothy Messen ’18 said that after his freshman year, when he was one of the frenzied freshmen running around campus in search of friends, he realized his desire to reconnect with old friends.

“I think I’ve actually sort of reached out more to them this year than I have in the past,” Messen said. “I think I tried too hard maybe freshman year to make friends in college.”

Despite all of this, I was still curious — what role does college living play in friendships? Are the friendships we form here at Dartmouth inevitably stronger?

Something that distinguishes college friendships from those at home is the history that comes with pre-college friendships. These are often people that saw your awkward phase, that remember your uncomfortable middle school years. I personally have known all of my best friends from home since second grade, meaning that we went through all kinds of forma-

tive failures and successes as we grew up alongside one another. Although college can undeniably foster incredibly strong friendships, and often does so quickly, most people have only known their friends here for a small fraction of the time that they’ve known friends from home.

Lynn agreed that for her, the close bonds she had before Dartmouth were hard to find and replicate when she first came here.

She wanted to find friends at Dartmouth who were similar to her friends at home, who were open about talking about issues like mental health, but she found this difficult.

Like Lynn, I approached my freshman year with expectation that I could find people to be the “Dartmouth version” of my best friends from home, which was not realistic. However, the beauty of our friendships at Dartmouth is that they are not supposed to replace our old best friends. Rather, they are supposed

to complement them. Lynn agreed that though it took her time, she finally did develop relationships that she felt were equally meaningful to those from home.

“I remember freshman year being frustrated by the shallowness of the friendships that I had, especially having come from something really tough in high school that had made my friendships there very meaningful,” she said. “But over time, I think through meeting more people in different activities, I’ve kind of found my people here at Dartmouth, too and I’ve found relationships that have equivalent depth.”

As a freshman, I can only hope that I can maintain valuable friendships from home and continue to establish meaningful friendships with people here at Dartmouth. At the end of the day, we should all be grateful to the people, whether they’re sitting next to us at Foco or halfway across the world, who have made us who we are.

ALISON GUH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

6// MIRROR

Not always lost: theft at Dartmouth

Nelly explores why people’s frackets are stolen and what that might mean about campus culture.

STORY

By Nelly Mendoza-Mendoza

Here at Dartmouth, most students don’t think twice about leaving their laptop out in the open when they take a coffee break or run to print something in the library. It seems unlikely that someone would come and steal anything, mostly because the vast majority of people in the library are students, and presumably, students trust one another ­— at least with valuable electronics.

Much of this is likely due to Hanover’s isolated location. As it follows, this relative safety from theft is not always the case at some other schools, especially those in more urban areas.

Jane Lee ’19 said that when she was at the University of Washington (which has a student population of almost 45,000 and is located in Seattle) she tried leaving her computer out for a few minutes.

Her friend quickly warned her about theft on campus. Lee’s friend told her that even if she just went to the bathroom for a few minutes, her laptop could get stolen during that time and insisted she bring all her things with her wherever she went.

Lee commented that the situation is very different at Dartmouth, where she thinks there’s a much more relaxed and trusting atmosphere.

“There’s a Baker-Berry library culture,” Lee said. “You can leave your stuff out and nothing gets stolen even if you wait a couple of days.”

Safety and Security director Harry Kinne, who has been working for the college for 13 years, confirmed that the incidence of stolen electronics is relatively low compared to other objects. He also said when they are stolen, it is usually not by a Dartmouth student.

Kinne attributed the low incidence of crime to the small size of Hanover and the College.

It’s much more common to see bikes and jackets get stolen, Kinne said. Emma Hartswick ’17, who had her bike stolen twice in one term, confirmed this. She said that people will spontaneously take bikes and not return them, often out of carelessness. However, she said this doesn’t happen as frequently as popularly believed.

“It’s more common that a bike will disappear and then

end up some place far away, just because someone was too lazy to walk,” Hartswick said.

“But, I think that doesn’t happen as often as people say it happens.”

Kinne agreed, based on his observations from recovering random abandoned bikes. He said often bikes are stolen and then dropped off with Safety and Security when people don’t know to whom they can return them.

Kinne had a bit of a pessimistic view on what happens to unlocked bikes.

“I would never leave my bike unlocked, because it will disappear,” Kinne said.

He also suggested registering bikes with Safety and Security in case they ever get “borrowed.” He said their recovery rates are good, since typically the bikes don’t actually leave campus. If the bike isn’t registered there’s much less the officers can do. Safety and Security will work with Hanover Police if they think there’s someone deliberately targeting bicycles.

When Hartswick’s bike was stolen the first time, she said it magically reappeared. The second time she had to contact Safety and Security, which was was able to track it down.

Hartswick said students need to be strategic in where they leave belongings. Kinne also echoed this sentiment, explaining that people should perhaps exercise more caution.

He said that although it’s not common, he has seen students steal things from others’ rooms.

“Many students leave their doors unlocked,” Kinne said.

“There seems to exist trust among the student community.”

Kinne said that in these situations, the items taken are money, wallets, or an ID. Hartswick said that generally, the thing she sees stolen most often at Dartmouth are those of little personal value.

Things that are harder to replace are much less likely to be taken.

“Something like a laptop or a phone, people know that students use those for school work or for talking to their families, and that they have a lot of personal information on there,” Hartswick said.

Conversely, something like a bike might be easier to replace, she said, and have less

individual meaning.

Once, Lee left all her rings in a music room. The next day she came back to see that someone had neatly stacked them up on the same table where she had left them.

Ostensibly, people would have little reason to steal someone’s rings, and perhaps they also recognized the meaning to their owner.

However, during the first days of the fall term, Lee lost $300 from her wallet. She used to leave her wallet out at Foco and her dorm room door unlocked, and said it likely was stolen from one of those places. At the advice of her undergraduate advisor, she now locks her door.

Lee said that a few weeks later after this incident, blitzes went out to East Wheelock residents warning them about the theft of computers and other valuable items from unlocked rooms. Lee said laptops and someone’s Nintendo Wii gaming console had been stolen.

Frackets, or fraternity jackets, are easily the most stolen

items on campus. Nowhere is the prevalence of fracket theft more visible than the desperate pleas posted on platforms like Facebook and Yik Yak. Lee noticed the irony that people leave laptops out in the open for hours at a time but rarely bring expensive coats to fraternities.

People are frequently too embarrassed to return the coat to its rightful owner, or simply never take the time to track the owner down.

Nonetheless, frackets seem to be, ostensibly, one of the most “socially acceptable” items to steal here at Dartmouth.

Emily Levine ’19 said that although people recognize it’s wrong, people still often steal frackets out of necessity.

“I think people know that it’s bad, that it is not a very acceptable thing to do,” Levine said. “But it still happens.”

Lee attributed much of fracket theft to intoxication, which can perhaps engender confusion to whether or not a

r! hey hanove

coat is actually your own. This can create a chain reaction in which people keep stealing coats so they don’t have to walk home in icy Hanover temperatures.

“I don’t think that [people] steal it for the sake of stealing it,” Lee said. “It’s more because they are very intoxicated and many frackets also look very similar.”

Kinne said that people sometimes drop off mistakenly grabbed frackets with Safety and Security. People often drop off phones and wallets with them as well. If at the end of the term the items haven’t been picked up, Kinne said the department donates them.

Overall, despite Hanover’s reputation as a safe and relatively theft-free place, Kinne recommended students to stay vigilant and cautious with their belongings.

And most importantly — buy an inexpensive fracket.

Jane Lee is a member of The Dartmouth Staff.

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Sam’s Little Larks

COLUMN

MIRROR

//7

By Sam Van Wetter

WING IT SAM and WINGMAN SAM are nestled among a lot of trash: cardboard, branches, packing tape, hot glue, cans, bottles and plastic bags. They are making letters, maybe. It’s supposed to spell “JUST TRANSITION.”

Turns out, however, that people — some wildly misinformed, optimistic people — think I’m capable. And so they let me come up an idea and then I live with my decision. So yes, I’m gonna ask my friends for help. And I’m not sorry for that.

WING IT SAM: I don’t understand what your issue is.

WINGMAN: No, of course. No need to be sorry. It’s just funny. People trust us and we have no idea what we’re doing.

WINGMAN SAM: You mean you don’t understand what the issue is.

WING IT: Sam, we’re promoting renewables.

People will walk into Collis and their eyes will be drawn to this sentence in the sky that we’re making out of trash. It’s uncomplicated. It’s good work. I don’t think there’s an issue.

WINGMAN: Dude, your vision for this is unreasonable. Why did you choose long words?

Why didn’t you collect better material? How are you going to hang this up? And how in the world do you imagine this would turn out if I weren’t here to help?

WING IT: It’s like The Beatles said.

WINGMAN: Picture yourself in a boat on a river?

WING IT: Like, we’re supposed to be gaining experience for some sort of real world, right? But when am I ever going to be tasked with something like this? Only in college. Only at Dartmouth. Only in Collis! This will literally never be relevant again. I’m learning one-time skills.

WINGMAN: Alright! So what! You only live once you decide to start living! YOLOYDTSL! So let’s do it. We’ll make a good project. Trash won’t rain down on people’s heads due to our poor hot gluing, and if it does, we can tell them it is a metaphor. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.

WING IT: Okay. Thanks for your help.

WING IT: What if it’s what?

WINGMAN: Bartlett Tower, that funny stacked stone tower near the BEMA. It was dedicated after President Bartlett’s death and it’s near the actual Lone Pine. Very poetic.

But an impossible project. Someone tells you to build a 70-foot-tall tower out of brick and mortar and you’d just be like, “OK, better see if my friends are free to help?”

WING IT: I might like, consult an architect, too.

WINGMAN: It took students 10 years to finish the tower. And they got help. The plaque says local stonemasons assisted but they must have carried that project. Can you imagine being a freshman and some senior tells you to finish up the tower? I’d give up, probably, and if that’s not an option I’d sure as hell ask a professional for help.

WING IT: So you think we should get help?

WINGMAN: For this lobby display? Naw, we’ll be fine. It’s not a permanent structure.

But I suppose the risk of collapse and/or death is still present.

WING IT: No — !

WINGMAN: It’s a pleasure. A year from now I’ll be wishing to spend a Sunday with you and a bunch of garbage.

WINGMAN: Yesterday?

WING IT: If we’re lucky we’ll still be doing it.

WINGMAN: If only we had a decade…

WING IT: I get by with a little help from my friends.

WINGMAN: True. But what if someone asks us to do something impossible?

WING IT: But we don’t! Shoot, I need to get to class. Can you hang these?

WINGMAN: I’m gonna die with a little help from my friends.

WING IT: They wouldn’t.

WINGMAN: Like, in Collis?

WINGMAN: But if they did.

WING IT: Please. Here’s the clothesline.

The letters are done. I’m so sorry. Where did the day go? It’s supposed to be up by noon.

WING IT: I don’t think that’s actually — WINGMAN: Close enough. So you’re saying that it’s okay to wing it completely as long as you have friends to pick up the slack?

WING IT: I don’t think it’s okay to “wing it,” Sam. I mean, I don’t think it’s okay to plan on winging anything. But then again, I am very rarely ever not winging it. So winging it is okay if it works. And how do we know if it’ll work?

We don’t. Which is why it is so terrifying to me that people — people in charge — are willing and comfortable to just give me responsibilities.

How am I in any way qualified to be making these decisions? Or any decisions! I need my hand held! I need instructions written out!

WING IT: A wise man once told me that if the assigned project seems unreasonably difficult to do, you’re probably doing it wrong.

You’re probably doing too much.

WINGMAN: So if it seems too hard we should just give up?

WING IT: We should clarify with whoever assigned it. Before you pull up the entire carpet you should make sure they weren’t talking about a rug.

WINGMAN: But what if it is a big project and they think you can just handle it? What if it’s Bartlett Tower?

WING IT: That doesn’t help. This is my project. I’m liable, probably.

WINGMAN: Whatever. I got it. Have fun in class.

WING IT: You’re the best. I couldn’t do it without you.

WINGMAN: Obviously.

Later that day. WING IT and WINGMAN are standing in Collis, admiring their handiwork.

WINGMAN: Well?

WING IT: You know that I appreciate you beyond words.

WINGMAN: Of course.

WING IT: Your humor, intelligence and willingness to play make me enormously happy and grateful to be your friend.

WINGMAN: I know.

WING IT: But did you have to do this?

WINGMAN: You asked me to!

WING IT: I asked you to install it like we planned! It’s supposed to say “Just Transition.”

WINGMAN: Yeah, I didn’t love that. I know it’s supposed to be a play on words or whatever, something about justice and transitioning to renewables? Anywhoo, I thought it could use some spice. I anagrammed.

WING IT: That’s what it is? Spice?

WINGMAN: It’s not inappropriate.

WING IT: No… WINGMAN: It’s kind of like a tagline.

WING IT: I guess.

WINGMAN: A silent, fishy do-er of good.

WING IT: Made out of trash.

WINGMAN: Exactly. I can already picture the mascot.

WING IT: Maybe we can get some freshman to work on that.

WINGMAN: Obviously.

WING IT: I’m gonna fix it soon.

WINGMAN: That’s unnecessary.

WING IT: Thanks for the help.

They walk away together. Behind them, a Caliban-esque fish-human creature ziplines across the Collis atrium. He wears all black. Theme music begins to play.

THEME MUSIC: It’s… Trout Ninja!

Blackout.

8// MIRROR

TTLG: A Thank You Letter to My Girls

A senior reflects on the pivotal role that female friendships have had during her time at Dartmouth.

TTLG

By Lindsay MacMillan

I arrived at Dartmouth nearly four years ago as a wide-eyed girl wheeling two oversized duffel bags to the Choates. Butterflies ruffled my stomach as I looked around at picturesque Baker Tower, the rolling New Hampshire hills and the beautiful... BOYS. Hot boys. Herds of hot boys, swaggering across campus in pastel polos and Ray Bans.

When one of them smiled at me, I swiveled my head to see who he was looking at. There was no one else around. Was he smiling at me?

I smiled back, and boy-crazy freshman Lindsay was born.

To put it mildly, high school hadn’t been my dating prime. My mom said I “intimidated” the guys, but I think it was more the fact that once you’ve seen someone go through her brace-face, pimple-popping and growing-out-bangs phases, dating material doesn’t exactly come to mind.

But college was a different ballgame. I was surrounded by an endless supply of attractive guys who hadn’t witnessed my awkward years. I could reinvent myself, and I did.

By the end of orientation week, I’d landed my first-ever boyfriend.

Why would I want to mingle at parties when I could stay in and watch a movie with my cute new guy? And when all the other suckers were scavenging for people to eat with at Foco, I had a built-in dinner buddy every night.

I felt like I was #winning freshman year.

But then another guy came along, the classic bad boy with just enough glimmers of good to make me believe the “You’re different” and the “I’ve never felt this way before” that slid off his smooth tongue.

So I broke up with boyfriend number one and moved on to boyfriend number two — well, technically hookup number two because there was no way this Keystonechugging bro was going to limit his options with a label.

It took a grand total of two weeks before he ghosted me when I wouldn’t sleep with him.

My crushed little self found the perfect cure in the form of — wait for it — another guy. This time, he was a hauntingly handsome sophomore who turned into my next boyfriend and first real love.

It was exhilarating to jump from relationship to relationship. I loved the witty flirting, the cozy cuddling and the fairytale fantasies of the future.

But when boyfriend number three broke up with me in the spring, my heart was too dented to consider another guy. I spent a solid 48 hours bawling in bed and hiccupping over the phone to my mom before picking my head up, looking around and realizing something: I had no friends.

Well, shoot. SHOOT. SHOOT. SHOOT. While I’d been basking in the glory of coupledom, the other freshmen girls had been bonding over shared secrets and shoes.

I was a thousand miles from home and without a boy to lean on, I felt cripplingly alone.

Luckily for me, I’d met a couple of stellar girls who didn’t hold it against me that I’d bailed on them a million times in favor of my guys.

Kelly from down the hall delivered gourmet chocolates a few days after the breakup.

Mary, my rock climbing trippee, asked if I wanted to get lunch. These were small gestures, perhaps, but they were the beginning of something incredibly large.

They were the moments I began to realize that there might be something to this whole female friendship thing. Maybe it was more than a contrived concept to comfort single women.

I didn’t have to wear makeup to impress these girls. I didn’t have to wait just the right

amount of time before texting them back.

I didn’t have to tone down the snorting elephant sound that is my laugh.

Once I discovered the freedom, the fun, the empowerment that came from spending time with other young women, there was no going back.

I haven’t had a boyfriend since.

To say I’ve been so much happier, that I’ve discovered who I am and who I want to be and that I’ve found my people, would all

“As women, we’re often pitted against each other with the mentality that we can only rise up by pushing one another down. But the strongest way to reach the top is by building each other up as we go. Female interactions should be mutualistic, not parasitic.” be correct clichés.

So now as I wrap up my time in Hanover, I feel compelled to say thank you to the lovely ladies who have made these the best four years of my life (so far!).

To Mary, my two-time roommate and steadiest confidante: thank you for sharing your tough times with me and softening the edges on some of my own, and for not judging me when I come home late and plow my way through too many Collis mozzarella sticks.

Thank you to Claire, for showing me how to balance academic diligence and social revelry. There’s no one else with whom I’d rather go straight from the library to a dance party, slaying the fashion game by wearing backpacks to frats.

Thank you to Maggie, for our long runs along the Connecticut River, talking about everything from politics to philosophy to what kind of Morano gelato we should order for a post-workout treat. The air is easier to breathe when you’re around.

Thank you to Lily, for always being down to sing karaoke with me and not making (too much) fun of my dance moves that alternate between flapping falcon and bouncing baboon.

Thank you to Anya, for our adventures chasing each other through corn mazes and pulling each other around in little red wagons. My favorite part of growing up is realizing we don’t have to.

Thank you to Victoria, for showing me around New York City during our off-terms.

Because of you, this country girl is now a seasoned subway rider, understands the importance of Sunday brunch and realizes that the only man worth chasing is Manhattan.

Thank you to my Alpha Phi sisters. As someone who did homework during lunch period in high school because I didn’t belong to a specific friend group, you all have made me feel like an integral part of your house. Greek life isn’t perfect, and many improvements can and should be made to the system, but it has the ability to foster an unbelievable community. I am grateful to have experienced such a special one.

Thank you to Meg, for waking up at 5 a.m. on my 22nd birthday to take me on a Gile sunrike and not calling it quits even though it was pitch black and pouring rain.

Thank you to Amy and Sophie, for looking at screenshots of texts from boys to help

me craft perfect responses. The most fun part of any date I go on is giggling about it with you afterward.

Thank you to Leda, for your contagious, undiscriminating sweetness. I hope that my smiles can brighten people’s days the way that yours do.

And then there are the girls whose names I don’t know who deserve shout outs.

To all of the bubbly girls I’ve met in bathrooms: thank you for holding the locks while I relieve my bladder, passing toilet paper under the stalls, letting me borrow your lipstick and giving me the “You’re crushing life!” pep talks I’ve needed.

Thank you to the girl from my “Econ 26” class who came up to me one night when I was crying in a corner at a party, missing my ex. You’ll never know how much that meant, not being alone in that moment when the floorboards felt flimsy.

Thank you to all these people, and the countless more whom I’ll find a better way to repay than with this little article.

These thank yous aren’t intended as a self-call about how many friends I’ve made over the last four years. They are intended to draw attention to the positive power women create by prioritizing camaraderie above petty drama, jealousy or exclusivity.

As women, we’re often pitted against each other with the mentality that we can only rise up by pushing one another down. But the strongest way to reach the top is by building each other up as we go. Female interactions should be mutualistic, not parasitic.

It isn’t all slick, Taylor Swift-esque squad goals. My friends and I don’t walk the red carpet, and we don’t smile all the time. Our friendship is gritty, and that’s the part for which I’m most thankful.

I feel safe exposing the shadows and the splotches of my soul. My friends won’t break up with me. They won’t turn away.

They’ll stand closer.

Female friendships don’t solve everything. I still get sad sometimes, I still get annoyed with people, and I still doubt myself.

I still get lonely, and I still cry. But now I have a cohort of people who sense when I’m off and won’t let me off the hook if I lie and say, “I’m fine.” They pull me up with a collection of outstretched hands.

That kind of a role is something that a significant other, no matter how great they are, can’t fill because it’s a role too large for any single person. To live a healthy, balanced life, we need supportive relationships that extend beyond romance.

Maybe down the road I’ll find a guy who makes me want to share my girl time with him, but for now I’m having too much fun making memories, mistakes and margaritas with the people who push me to be better, while at the same time embracing me for exactly the flawed human that I am.

We won’t all be living within a five-minute walk of each other next year. We’ll be scattered across the country, and our friendships will take work to maintain. However, we’re not about to be Ivy League graduates for nothing. We can do it, like we’ve done so much these last four years: determinedly, and together.

So now, before putting on our caps and gown and getting choked up on our “See ya soons,” let’s pop the cork on one more bottle of Andre and pass it around the boundless circle.

I could ramble on with a long toast about what we should be celebrating, something about how our bond is the biggest accomplishment that we’re taking out of Dartmouth, greater than any G.P.A. or job offer. Or maybe a feel-good speech about how many more adventures await us just around the river bend.

Instead, I’ll keep it short, only two words swollen with sincerity: “Thank you.”

PAULA MENDOZA/THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

Lindsay MacMillan ’16 reflects on the lessons she’s learned from her female friends.