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Miami senior Audrey Marie Davis died suddenly on Wednesday, Dec. 26 in her home town of Hicksville, Ohio.
Guess who's back? Back again. Tell your friends.
6,594 feet high, standing among wispy, white clouds with the crisp mountain air caressing my cheeks, I looked out and saw nothing but mountains for miles. It was noon, and we had summited Mount LeConte in four hours. Four hours of navigating lush forest, steep sandstone steps and glistening rock faces. Four hours of readjusting the straps on our packs and stopping to chug water and catch our breath as we rapidly gained elevation on our ascent. Four hours of being drenched in sweat despite the shade from the trees and the pleasant summer temperature.
I find myself at an impasse at the start of every semester. This crossroads of sorts is the absolute hell of managing my hectic schedule.
By Angela Hatcher, Opinion Editor
As I struggled up the side of Blood Mountain, wheezing, barely able to breathe under the pulsing heat of the midday sun, I began to cry.
As an advocate for sexual freedom and expression, as well as a self-proclaimed sexpert, I am disappointed -- to say the least -- by the second installment in the "Fifty Shades" trilogy.
For a large guy, Jake Schultz drives a tiny car.
All you could hear was the faint trill of a saxophone, muffled, but passionately singing songs of smooth jazz and summers at the Bayou. It colored the air and the faded, peeling paint on the buildings of the French Quarter suddenly seemed very bright again.
By Angela Hatcher, Columnist