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Articles by Sarah Ashman
PARTING SHOT: Have FOMO over the right things
Over my four years at the University, it has become a running joke between my friends and me that I most definitely do not have “FOMO” or “fear of missing out.” On the contrary, I have the unique ability to miss home football games, big parties, catered tailgates, concerts, fall break trips, and — dare I say it? — even basketball games without batting an eyelash.
Dickens to McGuire: Some of the best books from my 13 U.Va. English classes
Preparing to graduate with an English degree from the University is like starring in your very own season of “The Young and the Restless” — one can anticipate dramatic goodbyes from well-loved classmates and professors, plot twists of last-minute employment and shocking reveals of who will end up where.
The vulnerability and transparency that comes with sharing a fridge
For two years now, I’ve lived in a house of 15 girls and three fridges. Each clear shelf and veggie drawer is labeled with pastel washi tape and black sharpie. Our various groceries live in harmony in either the black, white or silver fridge. From Whole30 essentials to breakfast-food-only dietary necessities, all sorts of foods — from eggs to cauliflower to spring mixes — crowd each tiny, cool space.
Babysitting 101: The class you don’t want to miss
The dream of every undergraduate is to be paid to take classes. Imagine — instead of having to pay tuition, you can clock in in for the hard work you’re doing and material you’re learning in AMST 3001, “Theories and Methods of American Studies” or ENGR 2500, “Introduction to Nanoscience” — what could be better? Well, finally, as a fourth year, I’m starting to realize that I’ve actually been doing that.
Traditions: To keep or not to keep?
Growing up, I struggled a bit with blind acceptance and — what I often wrongly or rightly deemed — performance of holiday traditions. I asked a lot of questions about our family activities, the most common of which being, “Why?” In particular, I didn’t like sitting on Santa’s lap. By the time I could walk and talk, I realized that we were going through this whole emotional ordeal — since clearly I would cry — just for a picture of my sister and me with a complete stranger.
Let your yes be yes and your no be no
Last Wednesday I made the mistake of scheduling away just about every one of the 24 hours the day held. It was one of those days that wasn’t just full. It was dangerously overlapping. In order to pull this thing off, I needed to acquire some kind of superwoman ability to be in two places at once.
What I’m learning about being engaged as a fourth-year
When I was 5 years old, I started kindergarten at Mary Munford Elementary School in a babydoll dress patterned with brown and black horses, white frilly socks that peaked over my new sneakers, a pink L.L. Bean backpack longer than my torso and the dream of being a professional ballerina.
Considering vacation privileges in a new light
It’s true: Summer 2018 has officially come and gone, much to our surprise and — especially for my fellow fourth years — despair. As much as we can try, we can’t hide from this change of season. The evidence is undeniable, surrounding us from every side. First-years are stopping and frantically asking you for directions to Nau-Gibson.
Is strong the new pretty?
If you know me, then you know when I have a little too much time on my hands — or really, any time at all on my hands — Pinterest is favorite destination for mindless scrolling. I’m the girl sitting in front of you in your ENGL lecture scrolling through endless “Fixer Upper” kitchen remodels and diving down rabbit holes of inspirational quotes. And while you might think Pinterest is dumb, it does one thing very, very well.
Recalculating our University’s racial math
In a 1964 interview with Robert Penn Warren, Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “I feel that when a white child goes to school only with white children, unconsciously that child grows up in many instances devoid of a world perspective.
Baby steps for the patience-impaired
There’s no hiding the fact that we’re a generation of instant gratification. If you want to ruin a millennial’s day, slow down their Internet. Watch them stare at their loading Instagram feed with disgust, closing the app and then reopening it again in frustration. Unlike the critics and haters from past generations who are perfectly okay with waiting for the mail to come, I don’t think this frustration with slow is all bad. Part of this intolerance for patience is actually quite amazing.
The coffee shop line embodied my college experience
Last Sunday, I stood in line at a crowded coffee shop in D.C. absolutely starving. I stood on my toes and peered around the surrounding puffy North Face parkas to catch a glimpse through the glass of the baked goods display — it was brimming with muffins and scones galore. What I didn’t see were the breakfast sandwiches I’d been told again and again were so good. So, I waited patiently for my real options, and person-by-person, I reached the long awaited counter.
The only thing more important than being irreplaceable is replacing yourself
I’ll never forget sitting at my dinner table, elbows deep in college essays, scribbling down ideas to answer “What’s your favorite word and why?” for my University application and then ferociously crossing them out. I spent endless hours thinking of how to be unique — musing over one response, completely scratching it, returning to it an hour later and typing an introduction only for it to go absolutely nowhere. Differentiating oneself in a sea of thousands is hard work.
The best New Year’s resolution has more to do with silly faces than it does the gym
Well Hoos, we’ve made it to 2018. Are you surprised? Last semester is finally behind us, the sun is rising in front of us on a shiny new calendar year and we’re ready to greet it with new planners chalked full of resolutions. We’ve resolved to do so many things — climb mountains, put our phones down, write letters, run marathons, volunteer. Many resolutions revolve around refining who we are as people, helping others, continuing to pursue dreams we’ve previously been afraid to approach.
Why we settle for cheap forgiveness
Last week, I said “That’s okay!” a few dozen times — to a girl who apologized for bumping into me walking down the street while running late to class, to a friend who forgot we had plans to grab coffee and in response to a rash comment from someone who didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, to name a few. But I didn’t forgive anyone.
Students must learn to live outside of classroom
The University could be located in the United States, in Virginia, in Charlottesville — it makes no difference. The University is a world of its own. Aesthetically, Grounds is a breath-taking, beautiful world of Georgian red brick and white columns. Socially, it’s a vibrant world of people and experiences, colored by courageous communities. Intellectually, it’s a stimulating world of standards and statistics.
Confirmation bias has affected my identity
If you had to write down 20 statements about who you are, where would you start? Would you begin with your relationships, creating “I am” statements with subsequent words such as sister, friend, girlfriend, son, roommate? Would you self-identify with a list of adjectives, defining who you are by your personality? How many statements would you produce until you wrote one characteristic of how other people perceive you? Are you easy-going? Hard-working? How many of those statements would be true?
Stop letting your schedule dominate your life
One of the most embarrassing encounters of college is one I experience far too often. It goes like this — It starts with me eagerly going to say hi to a friend — to whom I confess how much I miss seeing her — and ends with the friend informing me she in fact saw me. Trying to break through the intense wall that is the world I find myself existing in, she yelled my name from about five yards away as we walked from Rugby but failed to catch my attention.
Students have real power
Lately, I’ve spent quite a lot of time looking at a pink and blue painted canvas hanging in my room. It’s a treasured gift, and it’s beautiful in aesthetic and in wisdom.
Are we destined to be our parents?
When I first heard John Mayer sing, “How much of my mother has my mother left in me? / How much of my love will be insane to some degree?” I felt as though maybe he had made a new single composed of the thoughts running through my head since I first left home for college.
Learning to walk
Have you ever seen a baby learn how to walk? Let me tell you, it is a miserable occurrence. For weeks, they will flail on their stomach before gaining the strength to lift themselves up onto their elbows and knees — crawling becomes a wasteland of settling for what’s easier instead of what’s better, then finally steps are taken only to fall, again and again. Why don’t we write all the little toddlers off as failures? After all, it’s just walking.
Difficulties in slowing down
No matter what my speedometer tells me, the real test of the pace I’m driving is how long it takes me to stop. Or even better yet, how hard I’m stopped by my seat belt when I slam on my brakes. If I’m driving 25 mph down Rugby, stopping is easy — if I’m driving 75 mph down I-64, stopping on a dime is something else entirely.
Choosing one another
I woke up promptly at 8:20 a.m. Saturday to a text message sent in my house group message: “SOS — Is anyone awake and can zip up my dress?” Out of town and therefore unable to help, I read the text and thought the chances of anyone being home, awake and available were slim at best. Within the same minute, to my surprise, another housemate immediately responded: “Haha, me — Come on up.” This act of service wasn’t grand — it was neither a large request nor a monumental fulfillment.
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