When I was a little kid, my older sisters told me I was never going to touch the bottom of the pool. I wasn’t “old enough.” It’s amazing how memory works. I forget so much of my early years, but I vividly remember swimming down those 10 feet, floatie around my waist, curling my fingers against the small white tiles—just to spite them.
In the words of a better columnist than me: We’ve arrived, inevitably, at the end of things. Unlike her, I can’t make my last Heights column a bohemian masterwork of creative self-reflection. But I can leave you with a few of the world’s most common pieces of advice—phrases so familiar we call them cliches. Overused? Maybe. But, through my life at BC, I’ve come to believe they’re overused for a reason.
If you hear cackling on the “million-dollar stairs” every Thursday at 1:15 p.m, I apologize for the inconvenience my friends and I may be causing. In a rare occurrence, all our schedules have aligned, affording us the opportunity to all walk to class hand in hand. These walks are quite hilarious—for us, anyway. My friends tend to say the most outrageous things at the most inappropriate times, and this walk is no exception.
