Word: forli
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I felt like crap. Literally. After what seemed like a series of unfortunate personal and circumstantial setbacks, I’d been subjugated in my sophomore spring to the lowest caste of the Harvard housing system: floater. The word itself conjures up images of things fecal. A floater�...
“That stinks,” I thought to myself as I saw my name listed for all to see on the door of the Winthrop housing administrator’s office. She’d posted the names and e-mails of us floaters in hopes that...
I couldn’t help but feel so socially inadequate. What had I done wrong? I had friends. I was friendly. Maybe too friendly? Maybe friendly in the wrong kind of way. People liked me. People liked me? I thought people liked me. Somewhere along the line I had...
It was just how it was supposed to be. We were so different but, somehow, once Nick brought his old red futon into our room, things started changing. Nick and I were like Bert and Ernie—no homo. My jeans were skinny, his loose. My voice loud and...
Floating hurts, but I believe being plopped into murky water could benefit more than a few Harvard undergrads. The College should maintain its incredible housing system with all the social and academic perks it has offered to students for the past century. But at the same time, it should still...