The Berkeley Beacon
The Berkeley Beacon
Freshman Jenna Miller's career in illustration began in 2013, when she was a senior in high school, and has now led to two published books.
On Monday, during the 119th annual Boston Marathon, Emerson students Morgan Kennedy and Cristina Ashbaugh experienced the storied 26.2-mile run in the cold rain.
Motivated by family and charity, two Emerson students will run in this year's Boston Marathon—a demanding event that they said means so much to the city.
With graduation looming, there’s always the fear that we’ll miss something, that one day we’ll wish we could go back or do things differently.
Ashlyn Lillibridge's own struggles with self-esteem and experiences with bullying as an adolescent are what made her so passionate about eating disorder awareness and body image positivity.
Junior Sarah Stein has interned at NBC in New York for the past two summers, and has been accepted into the coveted Page program.
Freshman Elizabeth Skerry started a campaign in high school to amend what she saw as an unfair dress code and restore, for her and other young women, the right to to bare their arms.
According to current students in the program, the process of applying for the interdisciplinary major can be stressful and time-consuming, and it’s not well publicized.
When many New Yorkers are just starting their Saturday nights, Boston’s bar patrons are usually paying the tab and heading home, thanks to a strictly enforced 2 a.m. last call.
The Daily Breeze
Finals week is coming to a close and, with that, my entire freshman year of college. I still can't quite wrap my head around it. I've been slowly packing up my bags, clearing out my drawers, and taking pictures down off the walls for the past week.
What are you feeling right now? Our floor RA asked the group of us still sitting around the common room, the noise from the television on but turned down low. Nobody quite brave enough to turn it off completely. Unsure. Scared. Upset. Angry. Shocked. Confused. Hurt.
The past two weeks have been a whirlwind and a half. My family headed across the country for a weeklong visit and then, just three days after they left, my boyfriend arrived for the weekend. I felt like I'd been counting down the days until their visits since winter break ended.
The end of freshman year looms ahead with only a month and a half left of school. While everyone's flipping through course catalogs or conversing over exciting summer plans, I'm sitting here at my desk wondering how in the world we got here so quickly. I swear it was just Halloween five seconds ago.
The spring break that was supposed to be a weeklong island getaway to Turks and Caicos quickly fell apart when some of my friends realized they didn't have money or passports. Now, with half a week left to go, I'm writing my article while eating homemade sticky buns at another friend's kitchen table.
My mom left England for the United States with barely any money. She was a nanny for families in Beverly Hills. My dad left England and arrived in the States before the Internet had made everyone an expert on everything.
In my creative writing class, I recently met a sophomore transfer from the University of Vermont. I'm always really interested in students who transfer to Emerson - a small student body, liberal arts college - from large research universities. It must feel like moving to a new country. What a culture shock.
Sometimes I feel like my life is sprinting on the treadmill at 6.5 with an incline of 10. I run around all week between classes and student publication meetings and lunch dates and maybe a stop at the mall and, yes, I have been keeping my resolution to spend more time at the gym.
As much as I already wish to go back to winter break days of home-cooked meals, full nights of sleep and zero responsibilities, there are more than enough reasons why I'm excited to be back at Emerson College in Boston. I have plans for this semester. I'm feeling good vibes about 2013, people.
Last New Year's, I remembering thinking to myself, "I wonder how different my life will be in a year? And now here I am a year later. How unbelievably fast does time go? As I expected, my life has changed tremendously but not necessarily in the ways I thought it would.
The following is an excerpt from a writing project I recently submitted in my bilingual writing class: 'The engine of the jet plane roared to life and my mom squeezed my hand as I stared out the window. The bright sun, staring me in the eyes, glared out the view of everything I'd known for so long, everything I was leaving behind.'
Looking back it's funny, because I think I imagined some sort of grand entrance as I landed at LAX the Monday of Thanksgiving break. Or that at least driving down the familiar California roads leading to my house would feel different.
Focus on the journey or the destination? The first weekend of November I packed up a small duffel bag and walked 15 minutes from the Emerson College campus to South Station, New England's second-largest transportation center. I pushed my way through the massive, bustling train station, observing all the people passing through with suitcases: businessmen, families, couples.
Halloween weekend came to a close with our common room packed with students. The boys were doing their best not to be obnoxious even though they were filled with so much energy they might burst. The girls had crayons and poster board scattered around the floor.
I have four professors I see throughout the week, and they're quite a mixed bunch. At 8 a.m. three days a week, I see my literary studies professor, who is the spitting image of Mr. Fredricksen from the Pixar movie "Up."
Living thousands of miles away from home has made me fall in love with mail. Last week, I slipped my tiny silver key into my own personal mailbox and pulled out a thin envelope containing a handwritten letter from my best friend at home. Giddy, I raced into the elevator, already ripping open the seal.
There was a distinct moment this past week when I really felt like a genuine city slicker. You know the type: sullen-faced, Starbucks coffee in hand, they strut the streets seamlessly moving through crowds, crossing the street even when the red hand screams otherwise, jumping into cabs, out of buses, onto trains.
Editor's note: Victoria Hulbert, a graduate of South High in Torrance, is writing about her freshman year at Emerson College in Boston, Mass. Her column will appear every other week. As I sit here writing, it's been exactly a week since the morning I left sunny California for the opposite coast.