It seems dissatisfaction with the president is not exclusive to George W. Bush.
My mom was one of the first 50 women to join the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Passing the rigorous physical, academic and psychological ordeals wasn't easy, but it was nothing compared to the struggles she faced earning the respect of her big, bad gun-toting fellow agents. To them, she was the "chick agent" and when Miss Congeniality came out, her co-workers had a field day -- posters were photoshopped and hung all over Philadelphia's Federal Building.
I experienced my fifth cell phone death of my college career one week ago. Drowning in a sink is a tragic way to go, but I'm not that upset about it this time.
This week's local cartoon
The ceremony is less than three weeks away and I’ll be done with all things class-related next Tuesday. As I wait for the day when I’ll slap a mortarboard on my head and shake Graham Spanier’s hand vigorously, I find myself reflecting on some of the things that I’ve learned as a student here at Penn State.
I’m a firm believer that everyone has a story to tell. We all have something fascinating to share, and I hope all of you will continue to do so.
Well, I guess this is it. In just a few short days, I will be finished with college. Finished with Penn State. The place I was deathly frightened to come to will be a place I’m even more frightened to leave.
Someday, when cleaning my parent's attic, I hope to stumble across an old friend--my Apple computer, complete with a floppy disk drive.
They mock me. Sure, they don't know they are doing it. They sunbathe on HUB lawn. They make a mid-day bar stop at Café 210, drinking Long Island iced-teas, a gentle breeze in their hair, warm sun on their skin, careless, worry-free.
Read more stories in our back issues.
