The Lost Girls by Heather Young is the type of book where you tell yourself, "Oh, I'll go to bed after this, just one more chapter," and then you can't sleep because you can't stop thinking about it.
I pile as many dishes as I can on top of one another. My hands become covered with gravy, Frank’s Red Hot sauce and pancake syrup. I grab cups and coffee mugs that aren’t emptied yet and I feel apple juice, milk, and cold coffee on my fingertips.
Our nation is in trouble. Wildfires have ravaged our lands in the hills of California. Hurricanes have come knocking at our shores. Our capitol spins like a top every day as the investigation to possible Russian collusion continues. But here’s something that may surprise you; none of these are our nation’s most pressing issue.
I’m taking pictures of Homecoming on a Saturday morning, and I see these two grown women dressed up with a mustache and a sombrero. They are walking with a group of girls, possibly between the ages of 8 and 9. These little girls are wearing sombreros too.
The fence is 200 feet away, grass green and dirt a grayish brown from the rain that came down earlier. A man on a riding lawn mower does his work on the baseball field behind me. I’m sure he’s wondering what a girl is doing sitting in an empty dugout of a recreation softball field on a Monday afternoon.
When it comes to Ball State’s decision to not allow 13 fraternities to have alcohol at their events, I am relieved that some action is being taken by the university but I am still concerned about the well being of women on this campus.
Halloween costumes are the worst. It’s hard enough coming up with a good idea, then once you do, the costume requires too much money or work.
Las Vegas, Nevada. Orlando, Florida. Blacksburg, Va. Newtown, Connecticut. Burlington, Washington. New York City, New York. Los Angeles, California. Mattoon, Illinois. San Bernardino, California. Irving,Texas. Seattle, Washington. Some of these cities you’ve probably never heard of. Others ring loudly in your ear as they’ve been drilled into your head by the media.
As a 6-year old, I tugged on my father’s button-up shirt, pointed to gun protruding from a stranger’s pants, and timidly said, “Daddy, that man over there has a gun.”
“Oh, it was probably a frat boy.” This is a common reaction across many college campuses within our nation’s borders when we hear about a new case of sexual assault. We point fingers at these “frat boys” for every single sexual assault case that happens at our respective universities.
July 18, 2012. I will never forget this day, considering it was the day of the scariest moment I have ever been through. It wasn’t anything like Friday the 13th. On that day, fear was real. It wasn’t the cause of any ghost, demon or witch. Instead, it was one of those moments that you look back on and wonder how you ever survived.
I see home in the eyes of my father as he hugs me for the first time in five weeks. I see home in the smiles on the faces of my old high school friends as we embrace and catch up on lost time. I see home in the purple walls of my childhood room, still plastered with One Direction posters that I was too lazy to take down when I moved away.
"Turtles All the Way Down," by John Green is a book that I have been anticipating since its release date was announced.
Cam Newton, reporter for Cosmopolitan Magazine, approaches me and asks about the process I went through when contouring my face with a pallet of makeup. I look at him, giggle and say, “It’s funny to hear a male talk about makeup.”
Every 98 seconds someone in the United States is sexually assaulted, according to the Huffington Post. So in the time that it takes you to read through a paragraph of this article, someone, somewhere, is getting violated.
As I sit cross-legged on the floor doing my Spanish homework my hands are vigorously shaking. Not just my hands, my whole body. I’m breathing as deeply as I am allowed with coughing fits in between.
With the summer gone and the school year in full swing, we all hunker down for colder days to come. But as the leaves change and we pull on our flannels, we should get excited for Autumn. Here are the five things we should all be excited for.
When you hear a gunshot from far away, it sounds like a firework. It reminds you of when you were younger, memories of popcorn, soda and the Fourth of July.
“Well it’s my right to ____!” is something we hear often these days.
It's not often a game comes out of nowhere and captures a good amount of the gaming public’s attention.
