This issue is not a travel guide. It’s a permission slip. Permission to be unfinished. Permission to argue with history. Permission to eat a gyro at 2 a.m. and call it philosophy.
By Jamie L., Freshman Contributor
You don’t go to Greece to find yourself. You go to Greece to lose the version of yourself that was never real anyway. And that’s worth crying over. FEATURE 2 The Freshman Syllabus: Greek Edition Skip the textbook. Read this instead.
Dear Freshmen,
— Alex “I Cried in the Agora (And That’s Fine)” A First-Year’s Confession
I pretend I have my major figured out. I pretend I don’t miss my dog. I pretend the 8 a.m. lecture doesn’t terrify me.
Because when you’re a freshman, you are, in every sense, an architect of ruins. You leave home, you lose your compass, you build a new self out of cafeteria coffee and 3 a.m. texts. Then, midterms hit. Suddenly, you feel as lost as Odysseus drifting past the Lotus-Eaters.