Word: roomful
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...reluctantly to my first reading period, arguably the most terrifying weeks of freshman year. My neglected coursework loomed before me, and my classmates' all too evident paranoia drove me from the Union. I never went back--it was too loud and the food sucked. I drank soup in my room, worked and fended off an inexplicable herd of admirers who had suddenly materialized when I didn't want to be bothered. As a maniacally drew up my schedules for studying, I discovered to my horror that I had three exams in three days. Had I read the catalogue more carefully...
THAT ENDED my first semester at Harvard. I sat in my empty room over the four-day break between exam period and second semester, washing clothes, reading, thinking, recuperating. I had spent my semester detached, passively accepting academic boredom and loneliness. I had cried and raged and stormed, but I hadn't done anything. I was as sick of myself as I was of Harvard, sick of trying to turn Harvard into Andover...
...trudged up the four flights to my room, Ellen's half bare and spotless, my own strewn with notecards, crumpled typewritten pages and books. Sorting through the mess. I discovered a note addressed to me in Ellen's spidery handwriting. It read...
...door. I did not dread returning to Harvard the following year; I had made good friends and found a niche in East Asian Studies and The Crimson. I looked forward to starting over, out of the Yard. But I savored every last step down the stairs, past Chuck's room and out of Stoughton forever. Chuck's still loose. And Stoughton's still there. Welcome to Harvard.CrimsonAnthea Letsou...
...that "miserable interrogatory". "What is all this worth?" Well, not a whole lot. Lansing Lamont '52 has written a book which will be noteworthy, if at all, only in the quickness of its declension to the remainder heap over at Barnes & Noble, or its ability to heat a small room at Fahrenheit...