“Closing time, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Those are words that have been echoing in my head lately.
Posts published in “Baffling Bits & Bobs”
I think this time around I’d like to start by saying that I am not a very smart man. At the time of writing this, I ran a marathon yesterday, and every step sends a wave of pain somehow all the way up to my shoulders.
I don’t know, but I ❤️ it.
Disclaimer: This article is part of The Stupe and is satire
Hello, dear readers. If there are any, I do wonder if there are any Ducks out there who are happy to see my column specifically every two weeks, but I digress.
Whether it’s a pulse or brain activity that determines whether we are alive is up for debate, but the heart definitely plays a very big role in our living, both physically and emotionally.
Despite the title of this article, I am writing it late. “Why?” You may ask. Because I am a forgetful, silly person.
All my finals happen to be next week, which is nice since I’ll finish early, but it’s going to be one heck of a week.
As we approach the end of the semester, many things may come to mind. Some think of the holiday season or of their inevitable hell week where all of their professors have seemingly conspired to make everything due at the very same moment (as per usual), while others think of how the Hoboken wind chill will be reminiscent of Dante’s ninth circle.
This past summer was debatably the worst period of my life. I have had my fair share of rough patches in life with parents divorcing (multiple times), a chronic kidney disease, and a seeming magnetism of sports balls to my face.
This week, we are going to touch on a more complicated concept than usual. I’d like to talk about music boxes and, as an extension, lay down the groundwork for acoustics in general.