This article has nothing to do with tic tacs (a variation of a Mitch Hedberg joke). Well, the first sentence does, so technically, at the very least this article has something to do with tic tacs. Instead, I’m going to write about my first year-and-a-month here at UR. When I first applied here, I thought it’d be swell to major in computer science. With hard work, determination, and a little bit of luck, I still didn’t get any better at programming. I started to wish that instead of my parents teaching me how to speak English at a young age, they had forced me to communicate in Java or C. I also think I just got on the programming scene a little late. I felt like one of those grandparents who gets a Facebook account and misuses a simple thing like “lol.” For example, commenting “you’re in my prayers lol” on a post about someone’s relative who died doesn’t translate to “you’re in my prayers lots of love.”

I’m about to make a “Mad Men” reference so if you don’t know what “Mad Men” is just skip this paragraph and continue reading. The relationship between me and my programs resembles that of Don Draper and Peggy. Every time I had a program that worked, I’d start to get a little confident, just like when Draper builds up Peggy’s confidence. But good ol’ Don, or computer science in this case, would ultimately be there to shoot me down.

I wanted to finish with at least a cluster in computer science, so I did. Next, I tried taking some political science classes. I figured that if the classes were structured like politics in America, we would just sit around every time we met and proceed to do nothing. I know that was a dig. My cousin recently became a politician. What does he do now? Nothing. He got the job.

Horgan is a member of
the class of  2017.  

College Diversity Roundtable discusses conduct policy changes, Bias-Related Incident Report, world events messaging

The College Diversity Roundtable discussed code of conduct changes, the upcoming Bias-Related Incident Report, and administrative messaging about world events at their first meeting of the year.

I want to be obsessed again

I desperately miss teenage obsession. There is something so exhilarating and precious about our deepest infatuations from when we were young teenagers.

A secret that cannot be told

When you lose a part of yourself, it never really comes back completely. I didn’t time travel when I played anymore.