The Mirror 01/31/14

ROR R OR

JANUARY 31, 2014

THE STALL STREET JOURNAL // 2 PROFILE: PETER HACKETT // 3

IT’S ALL IN THE THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS // 6 FAMILY // 4 UNPLUGGED: A DIGITAL SAGA // 8

VICTORIA NELSEN AND ANNIE KUNSTLER // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITORS’ NOTE

TRACY WANG//THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

As much as we might try to fight it, moving away from home changes things. Surrounding yourself with a community of people at Dartmouth, be they from your floor or your late nights in Robo, is an incredible opportunity to build relationships that blur the lines between friend and family. But what does this mean for the people back home?

Leaving our hometowns has meant having to sacrifice some of the time spent casually bonding and chit-chatting with our assorted kin.

Erin’s family used to gather every week for a lavish Shabbat dinner, during which everyone shared the week’s highlights over wine and challah. Marina’s would migrate to the living room each Sunday to eat dinner and watch a movie (or the beginnings of three movies, because her dad is all kinds of picky).

Letting go of these little traditions, of the things that are impossible when we no longer live within arm’s distance from our families, has been hard.

But it’s also been rewarding. Neither of us has a Dartmouth family full of alumni bursting at the seams to talk to us about the bonfire and how frat row is getting along these days. We do have families who are enthusiastic to learn about our new lives and experiences, however.

We’ve both learned how important it is to make time for that phone call during the treacherous walk home from the library, and we’ve realized just how valuable it is to maintain the connections that used to be so easy. We’ve also somehow managed to get closer to our flesh and blood despite the miles between us (with the help of Skype). Something about being apart puts small disagreements in perspective and makes us realize that our parents are actually people ... go figure.

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MIR ROR ERIN LANDAU MIRROR EDITORS MARINA SHKURATOV EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN EXECUTIVE EDITORS

MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS

OVER HEARDS

By LUKE McCANN

In the finely crafted art of distributing information via flyers, there are three keys to success, much like with real estate or electrical outlets. In no particular order, these are location, location, location. This mantra is the core of The Stall Street Journal, whose single-page publications are strategically poised at eye level in restrooms across campus.

Like a shadow in the night, new issues appear periodically throughout the term with large, bright headlines concerning on-campus health issues. While almost every student has likely encountered the Journal, an air of mystery surrounds it.

Who writes it? Where does it come from?

Why has no one ever seen them being hung up? And, perhaps most urgently, who created the brilliant name?

The answers to these questions, as luck would have it, are not as highlyguarded as I initially anticipated. On the contrary, alcohol and drug education program coordinator Caitlin Barthelmes was eager to discuss the Journal and its origins. The publication, it turns out, is not exclusive to Dartmouth, but part of a growing national campaign to promote pertinent health information for collegeaged students.

“It’s a well-accepted campaign that’s seen a lot of success across the country,” Barthelmes said. “When a new staff member brought the idea from another university, our office was really excited to participate in it as well.”

The office Barthelmes referred to is the office of student health promotion and wellness, whose mission to promote discussion of healthy behaviors. This includes the production and distribution of the Journal.

Office members often meet to brainstorm what information should be covered, taking into account seasonal changes or relevant events on campus.

The most recent issue, for example, featured information on flu prevention and treatment. An upcoming issue will

’16 Girl: Now the employees in KAF know my name! ’16 Guy: Not sure if that’s something to be proud of or ashamed of.

Blitz overheards to mirror@thedartmouth.com

JIN SHIN //THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

coincide with campus-wide V-week to produce relevant information about the week’s topics.

Once the topic has been decided and the Journal produced, issues are placed throughout campus restrooms. There are generally three issues per term, with each displayed for two to three weeks at a time.

Recently, much of the publication was handed over to student interns so that students could collaborate with faculty and learn about health promotion and marketing, Barthelmes said.

Ke Deng ’17, an office intern, uses graphic design to make the publication more visually interesting and eye-catching.

“When I get the information, it’s often just very factual,” she said. “My job involves putting it all together, deciding what fonts to use and finding pictures.

It’s hard to make something memorable if it’s just dry.”

Although the office faculty must approve each issue before publication, student interns receive a significant degree of freedom within the creation of the Journal. After the topic is determined, students create the publication and meet periodically with Barthelmes to edit and finalize their decisions. An upcoming issue, Deng revealed, will have a winter theme.

Regan Roberts ’16 said the partnership between students and College employees makes the Journal accessible and interesting. Past experience with bathroom publications gave her an idea for improving the Journal’s visibility.

Last year, Roberts was included in an issue of Lav Notes, a restroom publication run by Baker-Berry Library, as part of a series highlighting student projects displayed in Rauner Library. The strategy of spotlighting individual students, she said, could be used in the Journal as well.

“Sometimes people would meet me and their first reaction was to mention

’14 Guy: Did everyone just decide to wear Canada Goose once they got to campus this term? Everyone looks exactly the same.

’14 Girl: During sophomore summer, I left my backpack in a bush on the way to Cutter.

seeing my name on Lav Notes,” she said.

“It was sort of embarrassing, but I also just think it’s fun for people to see their friends’ names being put up in bathroom stalls.”

Other students also gave suggestions for future issues of the Journal. Heidi Illanes Meyers ’14 jokingly suggested that the office should introduce interactive content.

“They should include surveys and just leave a pencil in the stall,” she said. “That way people can participate with it while they’re in the bathroom.”

On a more serious note, one student said that she saw potential in the marketing of the Journal. In her Jan. 22 opinion piece, “Showing Support,” Vivien Rendleman expressed concern about the visibility of eating disorders on campus, referring to Dartmouth as a “Petri dish” for dangerous habits.

“The unfortunate reality is that many students do not know how to discuss these issues, and attempts to help friends or loved ones are often counterproductive,” she wrote, adding that campus climate often pushes discussion of these issues out of public discourse and into hushed conversations.

In a follow-up interview, Rendleman said that the Journal could be a useful tool for tackling more serious and taboo issues on campus.

“The Stall Street Journal has an advantage that most publications on campus don’t,” she said. “Whereas other publications have to convince readers to pick up an issue, the Stall Street Journal’s location makes it so that students literally can’t ignore it.”

Barthelmes said students can contact office manager Carissa Dowd with any concerns or ideas for future issues.

“This collaboration between students and the College is the key to making The Stall Street Journal a success,” Barthelmes said. “We’re constantly looking for feedback and anything students think will help keep the information fresh and relevant to the campus.”

’14 Girl: I put a lot of effort into making myself seem unapproachable.

’16 Girl: I saw a Boloco van going so fast last night that I thought it was a secret ambulance.

’15 Girl at tails: Hold that thought, I need to sign up for interviews now.

MIRROR //3

PROFILE

PETER HACKETT

By MARY LIZA HARTONG

When imagining a theater professor, I would not immediately think of Peter Hackett. Instead, I picture a man in a black turtleneck and beret, someone who sports the sort of mustache that belongs in an 18th centur y portrait and drops French words into ever y conversation. Or perhaps a tall, brooding woman with the stature of a stately praying mantis and a collection of wool cloaks that would put the whole cast of Harr y Potter to shame. At the ver y least, I’d expect the professor to be wearing a monocle, a feather boa or some sort of dramatic accessor y.

T ur ns out I have a pretty skewed view of the Dartmouth theater department. While there aren’t any festooned, feathered teachers running around teaching the fine art of acting, there is Hackett. Looking around his cozy of fice in the Hopkins Center’s Shakespeare Alley, with its walls speckled with bright posters from various productions and events, one gets the impression that behind Hackett’s calm veneer is a perceptive, lively teacher. As a professor and a member of the Class of 1975, he’s pretty much seen it all.

Hackett saw the College through countless formative moments, he said, witnessing the impact of events ranging from the abolition of the Indian mascot to the implementation of the D-plan to the beginning of coeducation.

Despite arriving at Dartmouth with plans to become a doctor, Hackett majored in theater, or drama, as it was called then.

After graduating, he spent a few years teaching at Milton Academy in Massachusetts, went on to get his Masters of Fine Arts in directing at the University of California at San Diego and then headed

to Hollywood where he worked for Paramount Studios for three years. It was in such a whirlwind of theater experiences that Hackett came upon the opportunity to return to Hanover as a professor.

“It never occurred to me that I would be teaching undergraduates until this position at Dartmouth opened up,” Hackett said. “My Dartmouth experience was such an extraordinar y one that when the oppor tunity arose to come back and teach, I jumped on it.”

Between Hackett’s graduation and his return in 2004, however, major changes had transformed the theater experience at Dartmouth. The intr oduction of coeducation, for instance, had completely shifted the dynamic of both per formances and the department itself.

“When I was first here, the women’s roles were played by the female exchange students from the seven sister schools or community members and faculty wives,” he explained. “In 1972, women were admitted and then there were women in the department. It was a whole different thing.”

Some important aspects, however, have remained static. Hackett said that at Dar tmouth, all department productions are open to anyone who auditions, unlike at other schools where roles are reser ved for theater majors. This has been the guiding principle of the College’s theater department for a long time, Hackett said, and one he believes must continue in the future.

This semester, Hackett is teaching Acting 1 for the first time. The class is designed to be a gateway to the department in that it seeks to attract many types of students — theater majors, those looking

Courtesy of Dartmouth Change

The production “Undue Influence” aimed to represent the realities of sexual violence.

TRENDING @ Dartmouth HELL WEEK SUN GOD RETURNS

Why is he still here? The world may never know.

GETTING TAPPED

KELSEY KITTELSEN //THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

to complete the art distributive and the simply curious.

Raveena Gupta ’16 is one of many who joined the class to satisfy a certain acting urge.

“I heard from a lot of upperclassmen that it was the class to take before you graduate,” Gupta said. “I’ve always had an interest in movies, and I wanted to see how actors are shaped. I always notice, especially in my favorite actors like Steve Carell, the little nuances they do to steal a scene.”

Taking Hackett’s class has helped her gain a working knowledge of actors, she said, an essential skill for understanding both direction and production.

Like me, Gupta initially assumed that any theater professor would fit the exaggerated stereotype of the monocle-wearing type.

“He’s not eccentric or anything crazy,” she said.

“He’s cool and laidback, but he definitely has a strong passion for what he does.”

Nick O’Lear y ’14, a veteran thespian who worked in productions across campus as an actor, director and set designer, agreed about Hackett’s calm and collected nature.

“Some dir ectors ar e ver y specific and almost dictatorial,” O’Lear y said. “Instead of tr ying to tell you ver y specifically and exactly how it should be, [Hackett] just kind of is willing to sit back and ask some questions to draw that out of you.”

In describing this point,

O’Lear y referenced a comedy he and Hackett had worked on about a failed relationship. Hackett had a vision that was more stylized and exaggerated than O’Lear y’s had been originally. To illustrate his point, Hackett brought in a copy of The New Yorker, then explained his vision of the set as a New Yorker cartoon. O’Lear y said this collaborative process ended up taking his work to the next level.

In addition to focusing on theater productions in the classroom, Hackett also performs as an actor and works on special projects.

One such endeavor is Dar tmouth Change, a non-profit organization comprised of alumni, students and community members concerned with ending sexual violence on campus . In conjunction with the organization, Hackett staged, toured and acted in a production of “Undue Influence” in 2011 and 2012. The dance-theater piece aimed to represent the realities of sexual violence in an original and provocative way.

Hackett’s best advice for students — acting is a balance.

“You have to rely on your intuition and give the work that comes out of your intuition equal value with the work that comes out of your more analytical side,” he said. “There’s both parts — there’s preparation and analysis, but there’s also spontaneity.”

I may just throw off my cloak and boa and take his advice.

“THERE’S BOTH PARTS — THERE’S PREPARATION AND ANALYSIS, BUT THERE’S ALSO SPONTANEITY.” - THEATER PROFESSOR PETER HACKETT

Even if you didn’t get that incredibly trolly blitz from the Sphinx, we’re sure you’ve heard rumors about cryptic blitzes and the magic of secret socities.

SUPER BOWL SUNDAY

Whether you’re rooting for the Broncos or the Seahawks or just in it for Bruno Mars and the commercials, celebrating America’s favorite holiday is a must this weekend.

DINESH D’SOUZA In case you missed it: this former Review editor-in-chief, who conveniently just visited the College, pleaded not guilty to charges of campaign finance fraud last week.

Typical.

SPECIAL OLYMPICS Over 150 Dartmouth students volunteered at this daylong competition at the Skiway.

BIEBER’S ARREST

As I sat in FoCo last week, I noticed yet again how close even the most seemingly mundane parts of campus make me feel to my family. Surrounded by hundreds of classmates oblivious to the countless pieces of Dartmouth history covering the walls, I felt uniquely connected to the people who graced the College’s hallowed halls before me.

I looked up at one of the many Winter Carnival posters adorning the walls of FoCo’s dark side and immediately saw my great uncle. He designed the poster in 1953, before each work was required to reflect a different theme for the Carnival. His poster displays a red man, to whom my great uncle bears a striking resemblance, skiing downhill and holding a torch. It’s the same poster that hangs in my stairwell at home and sits in a frame on the mantle in my dorm. It’s one of many aspects that make Dartmouth feel like an extension of home.

Growing up, I was surrounded by seven family members who attended Dartmouth. It’s eight now, if you count my cousin, who is also a current student. As a result, the College and my family’s experiences always seemed to manifest in my everyday life, whether it was through the Dartmouth magnet that hung on my bedroom mirror since before I was tall enough to see it, my dad’s secret society cane perched mysteriously in the corner of his office or enchanting tales of the infamous Bahamas party and Carnival keg jump. Anyone would be inspired by a story as blissfully romantic as my parents’ — they met at the door of Phi Delta Alpha fraternity during their freshman winter.

This infatuation with Dartmouth felt completely normal to me. It wasn’t until I got to college that I realized that perhaps the obsession was somehow unique.

With no way to gauge my family’s level of Dartmouth insanity, I turned to fellow legacies for reassurance and began to investigate this interesting phenomenon.

Margaret Ramsden ’15, the daughter of two Dartmouth graduates, said that despite looking at other colleges, she found herself comparing each option to Dartmouth.

“I remember pretty much always thinking that I wanted to go to Dartmouth,” she said. “It was my quintessential college experience.”

Only after she had sent in her early application did Ramsden start to feel the pressure to carry on the Dartmouth legacy.

her from having an experienc After spending time on cam ries were overcome by how w community.

“It was very much me not or where I would find my plac down to three schools for me just really realized, ‘This is ho to spend the next four years.’”

At the time, however, Carte just how much like home Da of her close family friends, Ne on her freshman floor, which im more comfortable in a place f Southwell and Carter grew reunions and Homecomings are close friends and member Unlike Carter, Southwell ha was home long before applicat ined himself at Dartmouth thr

“I knew they wanted me to get in, and I knew I wanted to get in,” Ramsden said. “So now, not just one but three people’s happiness depended on this decision.”

After arriving at the College, Ramsden said the shared Dartmouth experience strengthened her bonds with her parents, something not always easy to do as a 20-something.

Though she appreciates this bond, Ramsden said she has still made a conscious effort to stray from the paths of her parents, whether that means pursuing various interests or joining a different Greek organization. For example, Ramsden decided to join Kappa Delta Epsilon sorority even though her mother had rushed Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority during her time at Dartmouth.

“I came to Dartmouth with the intention of making it my own experience,” she said.

It seems Ramsden’s desire to break the mold set by her family is not unique among Dartmouth legacies.

Lulu Carter ’17, a daughter, granddaughter and niece of alumni, said she almost did not apply to Dartmouth because she was worried that attending would prevent

IT’S ALL IN TH

BY LAUREN

of becoming those people to me.”

Going to Dartmouth has allowed Southwell and Carter to build their own Dartmouth lives on the foundation of their parents’ stories and memories. Carter said that having a history here can make even the simplest moments — like ordering EBAs, which her family always does over Homecoming — ­ seem special.

“I’ll get struck at random times and just be like, ‘I am so incredibly blessed and so lucky that I get to have this experience and share it with my parents, because they know how I feel,’” Carter said.

Perhaps it is the mutual understanding of such an incredible experience that continues to draw so many legacies here. In a time of so many uncertainties and fears, having common ground with parents can certainly make you feel lucky.

Of course, you don’t have to be a legacy to feel at home at Dartmouth. The community here can become, as Carter put it, “a chosen family,” regardless of whether or not they share your last name.

ce that was solely hers. mpus, however, her worwelcomed she felt in the

t knowing what I wanted ce,” Carter said. “It came e, and after Dimensions, I ome. This is where I want ” er had no way of knowing artmouth would feel. One ed Southwell ’17, also lived mmediately made her feel full of strangers. w up together, attending with their mothers, who rs of the Class of 1987. ad figured out Dartmouth tion season. He had imagroughout high school, and

knew it was the place he would end up as soon as he received his acceptance letter.

Southwell and Carter first noticed the benefits of being familiar with the College as they navigated their first term. Suddenly, they found themselves with knowledge everyone else was looking for and an awareness of how much their Dartmouth experience could matter.

“It was cool — coming in as a freshman, no one really knew about the frats,” Southwell said. “I had come up to visit my sister [Lizzy Southwell ’15], so I was like the storyteller. Everyone was looking to me for knowledge.”

Carter said that one of the best parts of having a Dartmouth family is that she can better appreciate how significantly the four years can shape the rest of one’s life.

“We’ve both seen what can come of the Dartmouth experience, post-college, especially in terms of the community you surround yourself with,” Carter said. “Some of my biggest role models have been my mom’s best friends from college, and I think I’m very aware that the people I’m meeting right now have the possibility

HE FAMILY

N HUFF

Photos courtesy of Lulu Carter, Lauren Huff, Margaret Ramsden and Lizzy Southwell ANTHONY CHICAIZA //THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

6// MIRROR

Through the Looking Glass

POPPING THE BUBBLE B y GRACE AFSARI-MAMAGANI

“Sincerity with an ulterior motive is something these tough ravaged people know and fear, all of them trained to remember the coyly sincere, ironic, self-presenting fortifications they’d had to construct in order to carr y on Out There.” ­— David Foster Wallace, “Infinite Jest” — It’s a mid-September Tuesday, and the conference room on the third floor of 19 University Place fills simultaneously with camaraderie and discomfort. We’ve all grown to accept first days, and perhaps even to appreciate the breaks in stasis they afford. I wait my turn in the round of introductions, attempting to formulate a cogent description of my academic interests to present to fellow graduate students.

“My undergraduate thesis at Dartmouth explored the role of computer-mediated communication in fiction by Zadie Smith and Jennifer Egan, situated within the context of the New Sincerity ... which may or may not be a thing.”

I echo the professor’s chuckle, aware that the literar y “movement” traced by some scholars to David Foster Wallace — and based on a purported rejection or transcendence of postmodern irony — has generated a measure of paradoxical and often inane commentar y on sites like Maximum Fun and The New York Times’ “Opinionator.”

And it’s true: sincerity tends to undermine itself. That we can speak of “sincere” behavior suggests an inherent distinction between interior and exterior selves — it resists the possibility of wholeness, definitionally. We’re left, then, to minimize the gap or build “self-presenting fortifications.” Navigating the spectrum, we lean toward vulnerability or self-preser ving artifice.

Courtesy of Singer Horse Capture

-— During the last several months of my Dartmouth career, the thesis process — writing, research and the company of an amazing group of friends — facilitated a reflection on four years of uncertainty and identity-building. I recalled the slight culture shock I experienced during my first few days in the Choates, surrounded by the well-off, English-speaking parents of various floormates.

Invoking the “self” I’d sculpted since childhood, I retreated at the time into academics and extracurricular overextension.

By my sophomore year, The Dartmouth’s editorial offices felt safe despite an internal culture of self-righteousness, and I found solace in watching daylight break from the librar y even as it took a toll on my health and sanity. Consistent exhaustion and a commendable resume seemed proof that I was doing Dartmouth right.

But “right” has nothing to do with your GPA, the number of houses to which you’re called back during rush or the starting salar y of your job following graduation. It has nothing to do with hours clocked in the stacks, or even with solace.

Those of you who knew (or knew of) me were likely familiar with a sleep-deprived, cynical girl fielding eviction notices from Baker-Berr y staff and building fortresses of books and empty Rockstar cans. Those of you who knew me better were aware she was a caricature, a means of channeling anxiety and withdrawing to the safety of a known and definable persona.

I returned to the Dartmouth campus earlier this month to spend several days meeting with professors, visiting friends and drinking at Pine (obviously).

Sitting in on a class discussion about Johanna Drucker’s “Digital Ontologies,” which considers computer users’ tendency to ascribe “truthiness” to digital content due to its algorithmic source, it struck me that a neat comparison could be made to Dartmouth students’ affection for certitude — just as Boolean logic implies the possibility of reducing ever ything to convenient binaries, defined chasms between inner and outer selves enable the illusion of stability.

Within an institution founded upon coy sincerity, appeals for mental health support are met with threats of medical leave, accounts of bigotr y provoke resentment toward the victims and proposals to reform the Greek system are fueled at least partially by personal and ulterior agendas. Uncertainty and vulnerability — threats to any system — are feared rather than embraced.

I graduated much less sure of my convictions and interests than I began four years prior. Certainly, I’ve been directed — academically,

Courtesy of Grace Afsari-Mamagani

While it is certainly easier to retreat into stereotypical versions of yourself at Dartmouth, Grace Afsari-Mamagani ’13 recommends breaking out of your comfort zone and doing what scares you most. socially and occupationally. But, knowledge and critical approaches aside, I gained only the belief that “right” has ever ything to do with attempting to “carr y on Out There” with fewer fortifications and the willingness to take unanticipated risks.

If literature reflects fundamental human experiences, then the fact that my thesis had no succinct conclusion is apt — at the core of productive personal contact are irregularity and discomfort.

Often, ironic sincerity lines the path of least resistance — it proves appealing amidst the privilege and habit that characterize the Dartmouth bubble.

To lay oneself bare is not only frightening, but also draining. I’m the first to admit that perpetual vulnerability is unsustainable. My caricatured self still frequents the seminar rooms that surround Washington Square Park and the offices I work

in. But she doesn’t get to call the shots.

Because the most prominent images in my Dartmouth memor y reel are those I associate with stripped artifice — emotional tipping points, instances of revelation, discoveries of unfamiliar interests and the privilege of feeling trusted. At the risk of sounding pedantic, I guess that’s my only advice.

Do the shit that scares you, with outcomes you can’t even begin to predict. Sever some of the ropes from which your safety nets hang, and take a pickaxe to the exoskeleton that enables you to hide within preconceptions, comfortable ignorance and superficial successes. It doesn’t fit quite as well as you think.

Afsari-Mamagani is a former member of The Dar tmouth senior staf f.

MIRROR //7

COLUMN

WHAT HAVE WE DONE? IN CASE

By SEANIE CIVALE and AMANDA SMITH YOU WERE WONDERING

COLUMN

By

KATIE SINCLAIR

Though we constantly get emails from the registrar about applying for our degrees, letters from Class Council with Commencement information and blitzes from Career Services describing application deadlines and resume drops, there’s something about winter that makes us feel like freshmen all over again. We have reassembled our freshman year intramural hockey team and are taking the Green League by storm.

And yet, as Taylor Swift once said, everything has changed. We’re seniors. But though it’s undeniable that we are young no more, some things have remained static — we still have a completely rational fear of losing our phalanges to frostbite and we also still have each other.

Amanda: Throughout my life, my mother has tried her best to impart wise and helpful advice to me. And I have done my best, both intentionally and unintentionally, to ignore all of it.

Example: “Keep cash on you at all times.

You never know what might happen.”

My mother was right ... I should, and I don’t. Here’s what did happen — over this past weekend, I took a rogue trip to Montreal. Approximately three minutes before I was supposed to meet up with my friends, I started to pack and didn’t even curse myself this time for waiting until the last minute.

My old habits don’t die hard ... they simply don’t die.

To say that the funds in my bank account were “running low” would be a gross understatement. The situation was not so bad that I was down to my last few cents, but it was pretty close. With that in mind, I dug through my purse for stray cash, checked the bottom of my jewelry box for loose bills and shoved everything I could find into my wallet next to the lone dollar bill that was snuggled between my worthless debit card and expired license. In total, I scrounged together $15 in cash. I knew that wouldn’t be enough to carry me through the entirety of my trip, so I resorted to Plan B. I pulled out the Visa gift card I had been saving since Christmas, figuring there was no better time to use it.

As my friends and I drove away from Dartmouth, it occurred to me that I should check to make sure the gift card would work in Canada. I’m not exactly sure why the thought occurred to me, but it did. So I checked and the card wouldn’t — U.S. only.

Therefore, I had exactly $15 in cash on me, which didn’t really mean much since I owed one of my friends $20. I was barely able to work my way out of that pickle before

reaching the Canadian border and putting my phone on airplane mode.

Seanie: In my first winter on campus since 2011, I’ve noticed several behaviors in myself that are reminiscent of freshman year. The conditions of the Hanover winter have caused me to inadvertently act 18, homesick and wild again, like a Pavlovianconditioned dog. For one, the frequency of ordering EBAs from my phone has reached its highest since 2011. Meanwhile, my ability to stay awake for long enough to actually eat the EBAs is at its lowest. Last Saturday morning, I woke up to a mountain of untouched takeout containers on my futon.

I’m also reliving my freshman year in that I’ve been displaying all the classic symptoms of a Dartmouth student from Southern California in the winter. I’ve essentially overdosed on Vitamin D supplements, and I still experience a general sense of malaise.

I’ve found myself consistently on the verge of tears, such that whenever I drink a sip of alcohol or hear the first three chords of a sad song, I become the Trevi Fountain.

My overactive imagination produces super unsettling dreams, and that little voice inside all our heads telling us that we’re doing horribly and no one likes us has been quite loud in mine.

The tactics I used freshman year to combat these symptoms and stay happy weren’t medically sound, lasting or normal, but I believed in them and continue to use them today. When walking around campus with headphones, I resist the urge to listen to Radiohead because it matches the weather.

Instead, I play something ridiculous. Walking around in public listening to “CottonEyed Joe” with no one knowing is oddly satisfying.

There is also something strangely moodlifting about perusing Amazon and almost buying the strangest products. Right now, the website is highlighting a Post-It dispenser in the shape of a shoe and an entire mysterious section called “Aquatic Decor.”

My formerly pre-med friend makes me watch medical documentaries with her, and they are extremely effective. Also, “Blackfish” (2013) — not uplifting, but so, so good.

And spending Thursday nights playing intramural hockey with my freshman-year team has the uncanny ability to remind me that, despite my upcoming forcible removal from this college, some things can stay the same.

Yours, Lucy & Ethel

In case you were wondering, the snooze button is a terrible invention that only makes you more tired. Though this was initially a terrible and sad discovery, it makes sense, if you think about it. When you wake up naturally, your body starts doing its wake-up thing about an hour before you actually open your eyes. When you are jolted awake by a blaring alarm clock, you don’t get all those nice wake-up hormones, and you feel sleepy. So you hit the snooze button, which only serves to make you more tired because you’re falling back asleep, which restarts your sleep cycle, and then consequently makes it harder to wake up 10 minutes later when the alarm goes off again.

After viewing a lovely YouTube video that explained all this with whiteboard drawings and paper cutouts, I resolved to no longer hit the snooze button. I still use an alarm, because I am not the kind of person who goes to bed at the same time every night.

Seriously, what college student can manage that? Especially when you only have class three days a week and have no need to get up before 10 the other four days.

Even though my bedtime fluctuates quite a bit from night to night, I still find myself waking up slightly before my alarm every day.

Instead of looking at the clock and seeing that I have 10 extra minutes, I get up and ultimately feel less tired than if I had slept those extra minutes. I don’t know if I somehow psychosomatically convinced my body to wake up before the alarm due to my faith in that helpful YouTube video from some internet blog, but whatever, it works. And the human body is marvelously complicated, so it’s not a complete impossibility that belief in a YouTube video is powerful enough to reset your circadian rhythm.

At Dartmouth, sleep can be a precious commodity. There’s that cliched saying that you can only pick two out of the three possible choices — academic success, social life or sleep. I, for one, usually pick options one and three, because nothing good happens after 2 a.m. on a Friday night anyway.

Yet despite the glorification of allnighters, I find it hard to believe that every student is so overworked that the only possible time they have to write that 20-page paper that was assigned three weeks ago is in the 36 hours before it’s due. I love procrastination as much as the next girl — I start writing these columns about three hours before they’re due. But

I don’t usually use my sleep deprivation caused by a lack of poor time management skills as a badge of how AWESOME and BUSY and SOCIALLY SUCCESSFUL I am.

Usually because when I am sleep deprived I am grumpy, and I don’t want to talk anyway.

Despite the previous section describing how I have successfully conquered my alarm clock, I have a confession to make: I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s not like I’m doing anything fun or productive while not getting enough sleep. I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m not playing seven games of pong a night (looking at you, freshmen who don’t have majors yet). Nor am I studying for the MCAT or taking organic chemistry. Usually, I spend a lot of time reading the Internet and watching Netflix, which actually isn’t a complete waste of time, since half of my column ideas generate from something I read on the Internet.

There’s cer tainly some element of projection involved. My sudden desire to compare athletic clothes prices is probably not because I’m a bargain-hunting jock, but because I don’t want to think about getting a job or where I want to eat dinner after graduation. I don’t know about you, but even though I have no idea where I’ll be living come June 9, I know that I will dining at Simon Pierce on June 6, a sorority banquet on June 7, and Pine on June 8. If there’s one thing we Sinclairs do well, it’s eat. That’s scary enough to keep anyone up at night.

I’d prefer to say that my sleeplessness is due to my being a restless, troubled genius, having profound, angsty thoughts deep into the night and then writing bad poetry about it. But I think the real answer may be more mundane. The light from the computer screen messes with your brain, which makes it harder to fall asleep.

I know most of you tune in weekly for a dash of brilliant insight and biting wit, but I hope these healthy living tips are also useful. Full disclosure: I am not pre-med, but I have watched every single episode of House and all eight seasons of Scrubs not once but twice (thanks, Netflix), so I think I’m as well informed as any other random person on the Internet. Last October, I wrote a column about how everyone should get a flu shot, and hey, guess what? The news is reporting that this flu season is going to be awful, with a possible resurgence of the dreaded swine flu. Get your flu shots, people.

Turn off your computer and get some sleep.

And, whatever you do, don’t hit that snooze button.

UNPLUGGED: A DIGITAL SAGA First-world problems had never been so relevant until a week ago, when I took my phone out of my pocket and realized with horror that it would not turn on. After several frantic hours of trying to charge it and defrost it, I finally threw it against a wall.

After this trauma, I gave up and mailed it home to get it fixed. I woke up the next morning to a day that went something like this.

Woke up and was unable to procrastinate with Candy Crush before getting out of bed. Unhappily got out of bed.

Left my room for class.

9:00 AM

9:53 AM

Showed up late to class because I couldn’t keep track of my pace and didn’t realize I had been walking too slowly.

10:05 AM 10:10 AM

Desperate to know how much longer class would last.

Realized that I couldn’t text anyone for lunch. Went to Collis by myself.

Realized that I had nothing to do while awkwardly standing in the stir-fry line by myself. Scratched at the nail polish on my fingernails.

Still in the stir-fry line, enviously watched the girl next to me beat a level of Candy Crush.

11:05 AM 11:15 AM 11:17 AM 11:40 AM

Sat down to eat and realized that I had no way of knowing when to leave for my next class.

Became eternally indebted to a friend who let me borrow his watch for the week. Wore a men’s watch for a week.

12:10 PM 2:40 PM

Witnessed a Snapchat-worthy moment and couldn’t do anything about it.

Realized that I hadn’t been able to check blitz all day. Opened my computer to 43 unread emails.

Finally figured out how to use iMessage on my computer. Realized that my contacts weren’t synced and that the only number I had memorized was my mom’s. Was never happier to be able to text my mom.

Told my friends at dinner about how it’s actually kind of nice to not always be engrossed in your phone. Was ignored because everybody was engrossed in their phones.

Found that procrastinating on Netflix is much more time-consuming than procrastinating on Instagram.

Watched four episodes of Scandal instead of doing any work.

Went to sleep.

4:05 PM 5:35 PM 7:40 PM 9:05 PM

1:00 AM

When I finally got my phone back in the mail, I merely glanced at the 91 messages, eight missed calls, two voicemails and 13 Snapchats. The first thing I did was check my Candy Crush to make sure that I didn’t have to start again from the first level.

ALISON GUH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF