Quarter-life crisis: To scramble or not to scramble?


In light of the recent SWUG-craze, I’ve decided to prepare the underclassmen for another senior epidemic: senior scrambling. Most fervent in the spring time, when everyone is already wearing less clothing, the scramble does not discriminate. So what exactly is it?

Senior scramble (noun): The realization in one’s senior year that graduation is impending and you have limited time to DFMO at Whiskey, get some on the 13th floor of the SciLi/roof of the OMAC, or hookup with your classmates/teammates/TAs (Professors?). As a result, you act on your hook-up impulses. It is paired with a mentality that since you are graduating, you essentially don’t give a f&*k and will hook up aggressively with anyone and everyone you deem even remotely attractive. Usually a one-night endeavor, it does not include any sort of commitment, feelings, or attachment.

Can also be used as a verb: “I’m going to scramble so hard in Jamaica.

Although this phenomenon occurs at every school, Brown students unanimously use and are aware of the term “senior scramble.” (Note: if you tell your friends from home that you scrambled, they’ll probably say, “You ate scrambled eggs last night? What? That’s weird drunk food.”) Scrambling goes back almost as far as the tradition of walking through the Van Wickle Gates. So how do you prepare yourself for the upcoming scrambling that will inevitably occur during Spring Week? You simply go with the flow and stop caring. Continue Reading

Quarter-life crisis: The Brown-isms I hate now but will miss when I graduate

1980s alternative day

After 3.5 years in college, I’ve been accustomed to hearing the same phrases semester after semester. Some phrases I’ve gotten used to without affect, other phrases just suck. I thought about the many clichés and redundant sayings I’ve heard on college and realized that while I find them annoying now and perhaps have taken them for granted, they’re a part of the student experience. After leaving Brown, I know I’ll miss not hearing them in the same context; outside of the Brunonian realm, these sayings take an whole new meanings. Here are the winners for the question, statement, and word I hate now, but will miss after college.

Stupid Question: “What’s your concentration?”

Hate it now: As college students, we have a whole palette of conversation starters. We have the constant cyborg-like questions like “how are you?” and “sup?” Similarly, “how was your break?” and “which classes are you taking?” are both questions which fortunately have grace periods. Questions like these don’t bother me, because they don’t downplay our intelligence, memories, and interests in our fellow students to the extent that “what’s your concentration?” does.

“What’s your concentration?” is the question that deserves the least repetition in asking, yet requires the most. Continue Reading

Why being a second semester senior is awesome

Some of you may have recently seen a popular “Why Being In Your 20s Is Awesome” article from Thought Catalog jumping around your Facebook and Twitter feeds.

At Brown, most of us are barely even into our twenties, and those who are are (mostly) on our way out the door. So instead, roughly one-fourth of the undergraduate population is really thinking about what it means to be a second semester senior. And this is why it’s awesome.


I know I talk crap on being a second semester senior, but I’m only half kidding. In actuality, there’s no class year I’d rather be. (Besides a first-year, because they don’t do anything except eat chicken fingers and pretend they’re actually good at responding to emails.) Continue Reading

Quarter-life crisis: The sorta-bearable lightness of Senior Spring

If you’re about to graduate in May, you already know: your hide is glossed like a fresh, crisp apple, shining with sweet potential. And those of you who’re still snug in your cozy and bohemian Ivory Tower, you’re closer to ripening than you realize.

Each student’s inevitable harvest, Senior Spring, is precarious. It’s like a dizzy red balloon at the end of a taut line — the thread that attaches the light, frantic excitement of any looming release to the heavy, terrible dread of walking outside those Van Wickle Gates. Continue Reading