OP-ED: Love Triangle? Pentagon? I’m in a Love Dot

MALOTT HALL—Last week, I briefly overheard Stacy and Emily talking about their floundering love lives between bites of food at Trill. Stacy lamented that Liam from her discussion section has a thing for her, even though Stacy is actually crushing on Rachel from that same section, who is also in love with Liam. Tragic! And Emily? Her love life is even more complex, why, she’s in a love pentagon! How does that even work? I don’t know, but she at least has a shape goddamn it. All the while, I couldn’t help but think one thing: what about me? I don’t have a shape.

For far too long, we’ve allowed people who can’t make up their goddamn minds about love to define a cool shape for their relationship problems. But if there is one thing that teen romantic comedies taught me, it would be that by defining your lack of mutual romantic attraction to someone as a geometric structure is the truest testament to a sound mind.

Why be lame and admit that your crush doesn’t like you when you can instead be in a spiffy and spicy love triangle? When your love life is defined by a geometric silhouette, anything is game. Want to read his mail? Go right ahead; you can’t let Natalee win! Need to dye his crush’s hair an awful shade of green? All is fair in love-triangles and war. For this reason, I have come to the brave decision that I will no longer accept the slur “single.” Nay, “single” is for those vanilla bitches. You know the type: ladies who are confident in themselves, have healthy hobbies, and do not need external validation through relationships. You see, I’m mature enough to know that’s not me. All real relationships correspond to shapes that we learned in 9th grade geometry class. Or, in other words, I’m in a love dot.

Okenshields Employees Unsure How to Handle Everybody Crying Into Their Salads

OKENSHIELDS – Citing multiple instances of muffled sobbing, exasperated gasps, and flat out bawling, Okenshields employees are reportedly unsure how to deal with most patrons crying directly into their make-your-own salads.

“Um, I mean I just kind of refill the spinach when it gets pretty low, but I feel like I should definitely be doing something about all of this very obvious weeping,” said student worker Michaela Deangelo ’18, who pointed out that the apparent sounds of snuffling and the sight of tear-filled eyes was quite concerning but ultimately inconsolable. “Do I say ‘sorry’? Do I just keep standing here? If anybody has any advice, that’d be great.”

Other dining halls on campus were reportedly having similar problems, with cases of loud yelling at the Trillium cashiers and blatant vomiting all over the RPCC grill station.

OP-ED: I’m So Happy, Sad, Terrified, Overwhelmed, Thankful, and In Denial To Be Graduating

By a senior.

Wow. Four years. Four years ago, I was an innocent and oblivious freshman, not knowing what college was going to be like and getting lost on the first day of class. I didn’t have a clue what I was getting myself into. And yet look how far I’ve come; in a few weeks, I will have graduated from the prestigious Cornell University. And while there were undoubtedly some struggles along the way, I can say with certainty that I will be leaving this school with a smile on my face. After four years, I am so happy to be graduating from Cornell.

Happy, as well as incredibly sad. And both excited and terrified. Well, disgusted too. And definitely overwhelmed. Of course thankful is included in there, though at the same time I’m in complete denial. I’m a mess.

Yes, I will be leaving this school with a smile, a smile that as I walk into Schoellkopf will be replaced by a frown. Once I take my seat and look out over thousands of friends and classmates, the frown will probably turn into something surprised combined with content, like a ghost hunter that just saw a ghost. You’re expecting it, but you’re still kind of taken off guard, you know? And as the president talks about our futures and possibilities, maybe I’ll start crying, but in a half-good half-bad way. Imagine getting rescued from a deserted island, only to find out that you’re going to a scarier island with responsibilities and consulting firms. That’s how I’ll probably cry.

But with all of this, I do still not totally believe that I’m graduating. Any moment now I’ll wake up from this dream, lying on the floor of my freshman year dorm after a wild night of partying.

I’m pretty pained that I will no longer have all of my friends in the same place, but boy am I relieved to not have to take required classes anymore. That alone might be enough to keep me from getting angry at all those people who had a better GPA by a few percentage points, and keep me humble enough to not brag about getting a better GPA than other students. But then again, who knows if those emotions will be able to beat out my hunger now that I’ll no longer be on a meal plan.

I feel like all of my insides are twisted into knots, but those knots are making my organs into beautiful balloon animals. I feel like a shooting star that’s getting obliterated from entering the Earth’s atmosphere. I feel like a tightrope walker performing a seemingly death-defying stunt even though I’m doing the stunt underwater. Do you understand what I’m getting at?

I guess it’s impossible to perfectly describe all of my emotions right now. All that I can say definitively is that I will be graduating from Cornell University whether I like it or not. And that’s pretty amazing.

Well, hopefully I’m graduating. I should probably schedule a swim test soon.