Just get an iPhone already!
Ah, the infamous iPhone vs Android debacle. An argument meant to last for ages. But no matter what any Android owner tells me, I will never switch from the glorious iPhone to a mediocre Android. While this debate affects everyone differently, it's not that big of a deal to me, so this is all in good fun. But I did mean it when I said I'd never switch to an Android.
Here are 33 thoughts an iPhone user has when they find out that someone has an Android.
Many times in college we have events that make us question our faith. Growing up in a predominantly southern christian town at a public high school where the teachers were pretty open about their beliefs and most students were involved in a church, or at least claimed to be Christian, it was really hard to be faced with opposite views this first year at a public university. I have never had a reason to question my faith, until questions were posed to me that made me discover a new level of faith. When a professor who has their Ph.D. and seems to have worlds of knowledge, but they clearly disapprove of what you believe, it can rock your world. It seemed like all odds were put against me as three of my professors and classes were challenging what I believed about literally everything. The very foundation of who I am. This semester instead of feeling farther from God, I feel so much closer and more in awe because of these classes that were put in place to rattle me, but proved to rattle me into a deeper level of amazement with the world around me.
Astronomy, geology, and sociology are courses that make you think. They make you take a step back and reconsider. I find it so valuable to learn about this universe, the world, and people of every walk of life. Stars, mountains, families, galaxies, religion, oceans, and everything in between, is difficult to wrap my mind around. Much less the origin of it all. In these classes, the ideas of the Big Bang, being made of stardust, human evolution, and every other scientific idea was proposed. This article isn't to bash ideas or science, but to encourage those who are having their faith shook because of them. When I looked out into the world before these classes, I was like "oh alright, cool." But, now I am in AWE. I am in awe that there are so many stars in the sky that we cannot even count them. I am in awe that the perfect amount of chemicals mixed in our atmosphere at exactly the right temperature to create the perfect environment for us to live in. I am in awe of emotions. I am in awe of love, joy, sadness, tears, laughs, and how people interact. I am just simply in awe. As my professors tried to convince the class of no God, they showed me there was indefinitely a beautiful, magnificent creator. How would my heart know exactly how many beats per minute to pump blood throughout my body to keep me alive? What purpose would cells or chemicals have to produce the emotion of sadness, which then promotes tears? What would be sciences reason for the strong bonds of love we form with other people? What about the way our brains organize ideas in a way that it is hard to even pinpoint why or how our brains work? I l love the way Propaganda put it in this spoken word, " One must begin with the mind that was given to him to even believe he's evolved."
Yes, I respect the professors beliefs and I don't think these classes should be avoided because if you look closely enough, they open our eyes to the beauty of how perfectly perfect things are in a way that if one little thing was changed, things couldn't survive or thrive.
Last summer, I took a week-long trip to Paris. A close friend from high school invited me to stay with her in the apartment she was renting for the summer. I spent my week touring, exploring, dining, and shopping—all the expected wonderful things. But there was one day that showed me what I had never understood about that clichéd magic of Paris.
During my visit, I quickly discovered the Shakespeare and Company bookstore in the center of Paris right across from Notre Dame Cathedral. I was immediately enamored. I went to the bookstore several times that week, to read upstairs in the rooms full of old books, or to leave messages on their vintage typewriters (which had a different key arrangement than our American keyboards), or to eat at the cafe next door and gaze at Notre Dame across the street, through a stream of bikers, buses, and pedestrians. One day a street musician played Saxophone for thirty minutes or so as I drank iced tea.
One day at Shakespeare and Co., I wandered upstairs and came across a man sitting on an upholstered bench in a smaller side-room. Gathered around him were several people—a man and a woman sitting on the piano bench across the room, a younger teenage-looking girl (who I later discovered was Chinese, and fluent in German and English), an older woman, and now, me. I walked into what I assumed was a guest lecture or reading. I slipped into the back of the room, when immediately the man speaking addressed me. He invited me to come closer in a thick accent and he tipped his fedora at me as I approached.
The fedora man was talking about philosophy—everything from God to the French Revolution, with whiffs of Plato in between. We got to talking about music and over the course of the conversation I realized I had not encountered a lecture, but a spontaneous gathering of people discussing whatever arose among them. As we talked about music and why it moves us, the fedora man asked the man at the piano bench to play. They explained that he had been playing when the conversation started—the conversation had begun as a few peoples’ compliments to the playing. He played a few pieces for us, and the woman next to him introduced herself as his wife. After he’d played his fill, I was visibly moved by the music, and the fedora man asked if I knew how to play. I said no, but I do sing, and he asked me to sing for the group.
Now, while I am not shy in everyday interactions, I do have a proclivity for stage-fright and anxiety when put on the spot. As Eliza Schuyler sings in Hamilton, “I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight,” but the whole group joined in asking, and I didn’t know what to do. I was a tad nervous from the get-go and it was just a matter of time before I became even more so. But as I stood there, the knee-knocking didn’t come. I could breathe easily and I wasn’t sweating through my sundress. After a pause, I conceded. I pulled a version of “Caro Mio Ben” from my Choir memory-bank, and began singing, letting muscle memory supply rhythm and dynamic motion. The whole time I sang I felt like I wasn’t standing there at all, like I was someone else watching myself sing from a vast distance. I guess it was a sort of out-of-body experience. It’s nearly impossible to describe and difficult even to remember exactly how I felt in those short two minutes. My voice shook a little in the middle, but the smiles and books and golden evening light egged me on and soon I was enjoying myself. This moment didn't feel like a performance.
People clapped as I finished, and I descended from my momentary cloud formed from reverie and sunset and song. I felt my heartbeat slow and I wiped my palms on the side of my dress. Immediately I could not believe what I had just done, and a combination of nerves, modesty, and disbelief assailed me. We eventually parted ways and I returned to the apartment.
Looking back, I don’t know how or why it happened. It seems so natural, so obvious that I would sing for them—we had been engaged in dialogue and intellectual intimacy, and in a way, we knew one another. Yet at the same time, it feels other-worldly. I am no performer, and this was a small crowd of strangers, along with everyone else in the store who could hear me from other rooms. It seems bizarre that I would sing a solo for strangers in a crowded bookstore. All I know for sure is that it could only have happened right then, right there, in that top room of Shakespeare and Company bookstore, among those people, beside the old piano and antique Royal. It was a singular moment for me. I never place much stock in fate or coincidence, but I allow that memory to nestle in my mind as an anomaly, a thing apart from reason, perhaps never to be explained.
Only in Paris. I am lonesome without the city of lights, and I tug again and again at that memory. A memory like a handmade quilt worn with age and use but nonetheless belovéd.
I'm here to talk about one thing that we all know is true: why fall semester is arguably the best semester. Here is a list of ten reasons why fall semester is the greatest thing known to undergrads.
1. Football. Fall semester is filled with one of my favorite collegiate sports, football. If you're like me and many others who attend state schools, you know one thing: Football in the fall is huge. Even if your school isn't the greatest at football, you will still find yourself out there cheering on the team every Saturday afternoon.
2. Tailgating. With football comes the magical event before every game, and that's tailgating. Getting up early and making your way to the tailgate fields with your brothers and sisters is something that you'll never forget. There's just something about playing corn hole while music blares all around you that is oddly satisfying.
3. Philanthropies. Fall semester is chock full of philanthropies. It seems like every weekend, you are waking up early to get together with your waterdaze or bust team to prepare for a day full of slip n' slides and watermelon tosses.
4. The weather. Fall is my favorite time of year. You get to enjoy being on campus with all of your friends, weekends are spent in each others back yards hanging out and enjoying the weather. Fall is a perfect excuse to get a group of people together, hang out and relax in each others porches and yards.
5. The nostalgia. We've just spent an entire three months back at home working our part time jobs, hanging out with our families. Now that we're back at school, everything is fresh and exciting again. People are moving into new houses and apartments and things are switching up from the same routine you developed over the summer.
6. Classes. I know what you're thinking: class is on this list? We now have something real to do and something to make us productive again. No more sitting in front of the tv for hours after work. We are starting school again and everyone is happy to actually feeling productive again.
7. Traditions. Coming back to campus means being back around the traditions that take place on your campus. I know I took a detour to walk by frog baby and I've seen numerous people sticking gum on the gum tree. We all love these traditions, no matter how weird they may seem to other people.
8. Being back also means being back with your chapter. Maybe you saw some of your closest sisters or brothers over the summer, but now you all are back in the same city and probably living in the same house even. You're gearing yourself up for all the stuff your chapter has set for the semester!
9. Formals and socials. Fall semester means the start of many formals and socials. There's nothing better than Thursday night spontos or doing mock recruitment with one of your favorite sororities or fraternities. Everyone loves formals, especially away formals. Getting out of town for a weekend is fun no matter who you are.
10. New experiences. With every semester comes new people, new friends and new experiences. Fall semester is the start of that and the start of another great year in college.
So move over spring semester, fall semester has officially blown you out of the water.
The question everyone asks is "Why?" Why did the chicken cross the road? Why did I buy that? But the most dangerous "why," the why that breaks us down and makes us overthink, is when we ask ourselves "why" after a breakup or heartache. Why me? Why now? Why did this happen? Why after all this time do I still feel this hurt? Why. Why. Why.
Well, that "hurt" hurts for so many reasons.
It hurts because he tore you down until you felt worthless.
It hurts because he gets enjoyment seeing you hurt.
It hurts because you gave him so much and got nothing in return.
It hurts because you see the other women and constantly remember the night he told you about her.
It hurts because your family saw him for what he truly is when you were blinded by his so-called "love."
It hurts because you are still wrapped around his finger even when you don’t want to admit that you are.
It hurts because you could smell his cologne and immediately get flooded with memories.
It hurts because you catch yourself remembering the happy things you two did, but then they’re overshadowed by the bad things.
It hurts because you defended him for the things he didn't do but later found out he did do.
It hurts because you know you would fall for him again.
It hurts because you are trying to be happy, but then something will remind you of him.
It hurts because you trusted him and got betrayed.
It hurts because you still love him regardless of what he did.
It hurts because you got cheated on emotionally, physically, or mentally at one point or another in the relationship.
It hurts because you imagined your future with him that he shattered so quickly.
It hurts because you thought he cared about you as deeply as you cared about him.
It hurts because you let it hurt.
But not anymore. You need to be done with that hurt.
It won’t hurt because you are strong.
It won’t hurt because he has no control over you anymore.
It won’t hurt because you are finally letting go of him and everything he’s done to you.
It won’t hurt because you know you are worth it.
It won't hurt because you are moving on to bigger and better things.
It won’t hurt because you are done letting it hurt.
“You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” –"The Help"
And don’t you forget that.
Between the poddles skirts, perfect hair, and crazy expectations, women of the '50’s kind of had it alright. These men definitely gave them something to keep their eyes on.
Known most famously for his role as John “Plato” Crawford in "Rebel Without A Cause," Mineo made his way into the heart of women everywhere. With innocent eyes and the cutest baby face around, he was sure to make ladies melt.
Who doesn’t love a man who can dance? Gene Kelly tapped his way to the top of the “dapper gentlemen” list with his musical comedies like "An American in Paris" and "Singin’ in the Rain." His energy and comedic timing made him super likable and his killer smile made him to die for.
Dear Atticus Finch, you were the cat’s meow. From "The Snows of Kilamanjaro" to "To Kill A Mockingbird," it was hard not to fall in love with Peck’s smooth ways. It didn’t hurt that he won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for being an awesome humanitarian. Can you say, sweet?
If you wanted romance, Rock was your man. He quickly became the Ryan Gosling of the '50s with movies such as "Pillow Talk" and "Giant" (as in, with Elizabeth Taylor). Wouldn’t you fall in love with a face like that?
A younger generation may remember him from the Ranch dressing packets at McDonalds, but women of the '50s remember him as a gorgeous, Cool Hand Luke. With a beautiful face and even more beautiful personality, Newman was an absolute heartthrob.
Before he was the Godfather, Marlon Brando was the dreamy boy from the wrong side of the tracks in "On The Waterfront." Every girl wanted their own, personal Terry Malloy. I mean, wouldn’t you?
Not as well known as the other men on this list, Mr. Clift was a definite class act. He was quite a rarity in Hollywood as he did not sign with any major company until after his first two films were highly successful. His looks were slightly changed after a horrific car accident; however, he still had the ability to make women of the '50s weak in the knees.
Old Blue Eyes. Even in 2015, Frank is still allowing young couples to fall in love with his timeless voice and talent. However, more than his smooth song, his handsome looks had women everywhere wanting a closer look at those famous eyes.
The quintessential bad boy. If you love anyone with a rebellious nature in today’s Hollywood, know that it stemmed from this man. From his simple smile to his stern stare, Dean knew exactly what it took to be a heartthrob, even if he didn’t want to be one. But with a face like that, he didn’t exactly have a choice.
Two words: Hip movement. The King of Rock rolled right into the homes and hearts of teenage girls everywhere. The hair, the dimples, the smile: Everything was perfect.
Thank God for men, and thank God for the 1950s.
Songs About Being 17
Grey's Anatomy Quotes
Vine Quotes
4 Leaf Clover
Self Respect
1. Brittany Morgan, National Writer's Society
2. Radhi, SUNY Stony Brook
3. Kristen Haddox, Penn State University
4. Jennifer Kustanovich, SUNY Stony Brook
5. Clare Regelbrugge, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
