Word: pining
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...which helped him arrange the logistics of his time off—“extremely supportive and facilitating.” After election day, Zuckerman plans to return to Portland, Maine, where he spent the summer in the foreclosure prevention group at the non-profit law firm Pine Tree Legal Assistance. This spring, he will continue his time away from Harvard, studying abroad in England...
...myself have a particular penchant for sending out inappropriate e-mails after the sun sets and the keg is tapped. Alcohol has the (un)fortunate effect of amplifying my emotions, filling my outbox with e-mails of love (I pine for you, Nicole), lust (I want you on me, Nicole) and, of course, utter hatred (I will light you on fire, Nicole). And inevitably these e-mails lead to the sheepish apology sent out the next morning (Sorry for threatening to set you on fire, Nicole...
...been living with my two sisters,” said Reddick. “Seven months ago, things just got too hard for them, and I had to leave.” Since then, Reddick has been sleeping on park benches, the street, and when possible, the Pine Street Inn. “I’m willing to work but there are no jobs. I don’t know how to work a computer, but I’ll wash dishes, I’ll do anything,” he said. State Representative Alice K. Wolf, whose...
...tourist to be swarmed by snakes. For a more traditional massage, many visitors head up to the Sea of Galilee. Secluded in the pine forests is the Bayit Bagalil, a boutique hotel offering tasty Mediterranean cuisine, views of the water Jesus supposedly walked on and a variety of massages for those who prefer a human's touch to a reptile's. It's also worthwhile to splash in the mineral-laden Dead Sea, renowned as a health spa ever since the Queen of Sheba raved about its medicinal properties 4,000 years ago. (Hint: resorts like the Mvenpick...
...begun to pop up across the Harvard network, I can’t help but question the legitimacy of this nostalgia. Because, to be quite frank, Harvard is populated by a group of people who were undoubtedly painfully awkward campers in childhood, and why any such camper would virtually pine for a return to the contrived, queasy confines of any camp-like situation beguiles me. Flash back to the summer of 1998. Imagine Peter, my twenty-something camp counselor, struggling to silence a hot room full of rowdy pre-teens. Silently sitting in the corner, all I could think about...