Molly Gorin ’16

You could go to splitchers, or you could get yourself some coloring books and some crayons, and relax in the evening with a juice box like the f*ing grown-ass woman you are.

"Adults'" foray into having their own house.

We spent an excellent two days climbing and talking and swimming and snacking, while I claimed again and again that the walking was light and the backpack wasn't too fast, or something along those lines.

Over the past week, a plague has stricken Oberlin Campus.

*Disclaimer: I know very little about bears. But I do know a lot about Oberlin students.

Thinking that ten years of "pre-professional" training prepares you to choreograph a three-minute contemporary solo is kind of like spending years reading Shakespeare and then being told to whip up a novel with some magical realism.

I looked back at my parents, checking in that it was ok to talk to strangers. They conceded with their eyes that as long as I was in Ohio it was also fine to get into windowless vans and take candy from old women in tall pointed hats.

Besides, how much could happen in five days? A lot, Molly. A lot can happen in five days.