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When I hear the term research, I generally think of the endless realms of discovery found within different areas of study — general studies, psychological and social. But if I am being completely honest, I often overlook the fact that research has to be conducted by somebody. We are surrounded daily by people who have a passion for research and discovery, and who apply themselves daily to the hard process involved within research. Yes, even people right here on our own campus.
“Ten.” A dozen or so voices. Digits appear on either side of the room, on screens like scoreboards. Glances flicker between the number and me. Why should they be nervous, with a wall of glass three inches thick between us? I’ve been in a drug-induced paralysis since last night — standard procedure just in case one of us panics. That’s understandable too, although it never occurred to me.
At the genesis of your adult life, you are expected to have years of experience, a relevant degree and a triple backflip in your back pocket to get a job — the simplistic days of the latte-delivering, a**-kissing intern are long gone. Students at the University of South Carolina are no strangers to this reality as increasingly more majors require at least one internship to graduate. This leaves students no choice but to don their baby adult button-downs and begin their occupational journey.
When you’re waist-deep in the unending swampland known as the end of the semester — harbinger of exams, papers, presentations, and God forbid, group projects — one of the most efficient and cathartic ways to reduce stress is complaining. We all do it (especially when we have too much homework to fit in yoga.) And often, a myriad of topics come immediately to the minds of overworked, under-rested students. For example, Columbia parking. Professor’s unrealistic expectations. How the Russell House bathroom is always closed for cleaning right when you stop by for sushi. That’s not just me, right?
Listen, I know my audience. I know my supporters are few and far between; maybe I’ll even get a little hate mail. But that won’t stop me — indeed, I doubt anything could dissuade me — from understanding that basketball is implicitly more fun to watch than football.
Four years ago, I read Jonathan Safran Foer’s “Eating Animals.” The descriptions of factory farming were enough to get me to stop eating chicken — until my mom made chicken for dinner later that week, at least. While my foray into sustainable eating was remarkably short-lived, an increasing number of Americans are being drawn to the strictest of the meat-free diets: veganism.
There were a lot of things I didn’t know as an incoming freshman. Where to buy trendy clothes on a budget? No idea. The best brunch spots for a record-topping Instagram? (Does IHOP count?) Or what is game day really like in the SEC? Thinking back, all of those uncertainties didn’t matter, because just like most things in college, I eventually figured it out.
When I began my college experience at USC, I thought white people (or any nonblack person) would know not to say the N-word, or at least realize that there is a social stigma with saying it. But, no. Many students believe it is OK to say it because we have 21 Savage or Rae Sremmurd performing at homecoming and the N-word is in their lyrics. NEWSFLASH! Those artists are black, and it’s not disrespectful when they repeat it.
For student artists, college can seem to be paradise of opportunity. Easy access to studios, master classes, college-provided performance opportunities and other benefits create in the environment of USC and other colleges the ultimate hideaway for nurturing the newborn careers of young artists.
As the United States is growing larger and larger, many people would believe that this influx of diversity would bring to a lot of change within the educational systems to meet the needs of all its students. Every year, many students are excited when Christmas rolls around and they have the opportunity to have a few days set aside to really enjoy their religious holiday. But have you ever thought about what students of other faiths have to do when their religious day of observance comes around?
You probably know that you have an elected official responsible for decisions that affect your day-to-day life, but do you know how to get in touch with that person? Do you know who that person is?
South Carolina’s wintertime is a great escape from the usual intolerable heat, but sadly, this new chilly air also brings far fewer choices of fruits and vegetables at the Soda City market (open each Saturday from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.) If you’re like me and you love farmers markets, you go despite the cold just to see what’s in season. But when you arrive, your only choices are as random as pecans and mushrooms or as foreign as bok choy, a type of Chinese cabbage. Some may see this and give up, turning instead to Top Ramen noodles or coffee. But others can see this as a challenge, a chance to prove their food creativity. Yes, some of the produce seems just as strange as Columbia getting a snowstorm, but everyone knows that college is the best time for experimenting. So get out of your comfort zone and into the kitchen.
*Names changed for anonymity.
Like many other sexually frustrated and emotionally unstable high schoolers, I was unable to truly come to terms with my sexuality until college. I went to school in an exceptionally rural and conservative part of South Carolina. The majority of students were white, heterosexual, upper-middle class individuals. I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance my freshman year, where I found a niche group of people that I could identify with. I remained in the club throughout high school, until I eventually became a co-president of the organization my senior year, despite my closeted sexuality.
Well, it’s been a mere three weeks since I’ve last checked in and it has truly been a whirlwind of a time.
The first time that I went to get help with the university’s mental health services—a step that took a lot of me to make—I left the entire experience feeling smaller, less heard and less supported than I had in a long time. This was due almost entirely to directional errors and logistical oversights.
Burritos are one of the greatest inventions in the history of mankind. Forget Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press and Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone. Burritos are an art form: an entire, well-rounded meal wrapped up neatly in a tortilla. Truly flawless in conception. Burritos were artfully designed to make the eating experience a pleasurable, portable one. The guy who invented the burrito should be in the history books. He should be in the dictionary next to “genius.”
Contrary to what the temperature would have you believe, September has arrived and with it, football season. I’ve never been that much of a sports person, but nevertheless, I’m here to spread some Gamecock spirit. While I lack the attention span to enjoy an eternity-long quarter, there’s something that always will pull me out of the house and into the stadium on Saturdays: