As a horror enthusiast, there aren’t many horror films that genuinely get to me anymore. A24’s “Opus,” released on March 14, is an exception.
When you think of St. Patrick’s Day, what pops into your head? It may be leprechauns, beer, Irish dancing, more beer or wearing lots of green. However, when I think of this blessed day, I think of the color ginger – or anyone who considers themselves a redhead, to be exact.
When you think of St. Patrick’s Day, what pops into your head? It may be leprechauns, beer, Irish dancing, more beer or wearing lots of green. However, when I think of this blessed day, I think of the color ginger – or anyone who considers themselves a redhead, to be exact.
This is my last playlist as culture editor. Don’t worry, my devoted handful of readers, I’m not going to leave you high and dry. The playlists will continue, but not from the culture editor. Think of it more as a grandmother of The Miami Student dropping in and telling you what she’s listening to. Now that I’ve prepared you for what’s to come, I’ve got a bit of a doozy this week. Lately, I’ve been listening to music that is embarrassing, to say the least. I’m going to be very vulnerable with you here, so please be nice to me.
A few weeks ago, everyone started talking about Calendula, the newest restaurant in Uptown Oxford. Being new to campus, I had friends telling me this was a huge deal. After a busy week of events, I headed to Calendula on a Friday evening and was met with an hour to an hour-and-a-half wait. It seemed the rest of Oxford was as excited to try the newest restaurant in town as I was. Unfortunately, I was too hungry to wait and went elsewhere for dinner.
A few weeks ago, everyone started talking about Calendula, the newest restaurant in Uptown Oxford. Being new to campus, I had friends telling me this was a huge deal. After a busy week of events, I headed to Calendula on a Friday evening and was met with an hour to an hour-and-a-half wait. It seemed the rest of Oxford was as excited to try the newest restaurant in town as I was. Unfortunately, I was too hungry to wait and went elsewhere for dinner.
Around three years ago, I committed to Miami University as an education major. I had attended Make it Miami, surrounded by lines of chattering high school students — red lanyards with name-tags hung about their necks, accompanied by anxious parents asking countless questions. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I would want to change my major before I had even gone to my first class.
About a year ago, Miami University senior Rebecca Burnham, bought a new pet hedgehog on a whim. Her friends were interested in getting hedgehogs and Burnham wanted one, too. So one night they found an ad on Craigslist for newborn hedgehogs, still pink and only an inch long, and they contacted the seller to see the tiny pets.
Well over a year ago, four friends sat in a Scott Hall dorm room kidding around about possible names for their "fake band"
The hum of cicadas cuts through the late-summer heat as the sun drops lazily below the horizon, marking the end to another blistering day. As the light fades from the sky and students meander back to their houses and dorms, classrooms and laboratories become vacant -- all except for the Center for Performing Arts.
They came in Washington Capitals, Columbus Blue Jackets and Pittsburgh Penguins jerseys. They came from Bowling Green, Ohio, Louisville, Kentucky and Washington D.C. They came to Goggin at 10 a.m. and trickled out around 4 p.m.
If you've been keeping up with us from the beginning, you know that Lilly and I have been through our fair share of trials and tribulations over the past four months. For 14 weeks, I've used this column to cover topics such as depression, anxiety, alcoholism, fear of adulthood, assuming responsibility and, in our most harrowing ordeal, Lilly running into the woods and remaining missing for five hours. If you'd never actually met us in person, I couldn't fault you for thinking we lead somewhat of a gloomy or cheerless life.
There was still about an hour of light left before the sun set on the weekend, so I grabbed Lilly's leash and led her to the dog park yet again. Now that I've stopped letting her off the leash on our walks, I've been making an effort to visit the park at least once or twice a day since it's the only remaining place she can run freely. I figured that, at this late hour, there would be few other dogs to distract her and we could practice playing fetch, an activity I'm happy to report she is starting to figure out. She's now at the point where she'll chase after the ball when I throw it; the second (and rather important) half of her game still needs some work.
One of the most helpful quick-tips I've run across for dealing with bouts of depression is to imagine yourself with a stuffy nose. You know when your nostrils are all blocked up and you'd give just about anything for the relief of a clear airway, that thing you suddenly realize you always took for granted? Well, when you're feeling hopeless, when it feels like there's no joy to be ascertained from the world, it helps to recall the agony of a stuffy nose -- maybe nothing has meaning and we're all just floating hopelessly through the void, but hey, at least you can breathe in the fresh air, right? It sounds silly, but you'd be amazed how far you can get with some basic appreciation of everyday comforts.
The flyer had been irresistible.
The most disappointing aspect of my spring break backpacking trip was not that it got cut short.