In the least stalkerish sort of way, I love being part of the Stevens Facebook groups. The “Class of” groups not only provide me an insight as to where the free food is on campus on any given night, but lately has also been a means to rally the student body together towards some sort of cause.
Posts published in “Senioritis”
Senioritis is an Opinion column written by one or two Stevens student(s) in their last year of study to discuss life experiences during their final year at Stevens, and other related subject matter.
Recently, I learned what a “Finstagram” is. I’d consider myself a very “in the know” person when it comes to social media, so I simultaneously felt ashamed and wrong that I was out of touch with a common type of Instagram accounts.
We’re in the final stretch, guys: only 54 days until graduation. And, tomorrow is April 1st. April brings a lot of people on to this campus.
March 15, 2017 was the day I finally realized how unique I really am. Well, actually, how unique Stevens students are.
I always hated midterms. The concept of having major cumulative exams and projects on top of regular homework assignments and campus activities is a recipe for sadness and a lot of coffee.
I’m not the most devout Catholic (sorry, mom). Even though I was born and raised in a super Catholic Irish family, went to church every Sunday growing up, and even graduated from a Catholic high school, my application for sainthood would be denied faster than someone trying to get a seat on the Red Line during peak hours.
My favorite movie of all time is The Princess Diaries. To those waiting for their owl with letter in tow saying that they’re admitted into Hogwarts, move aside, because I’m still waiting for a disconnected relative of mine to pop up and inform me that I’m a princess (it’s going to happen one day, I promise).
Well seniors, the countdown begins. There are less than 100 days till graduation and I am honestly unsure how I want to process it.
It’s quite fitting to my personality that I call my birthday “Katie Day.” Despite that the title might indicate otherwise, I’m not a narcissistic person.
On March 4, 1966, a family of 5 stepped foot onto American soil for the first time. With only a purse full of money and the clothes on their back, they felt truly unsure where their new country will take them.