To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

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It was a particularly hot day at the end of May. We were nearing the end of the semester, and the entire lecture hall was craving an early end so we could go sit outside and enjoy a well-deserved ice cream. It was 3 in the afternoon and my head was buzzing with the heat and all the information on Alfred Tennyson that the professor was throwing in our faces. I didn’t care about poetry. I didn’t care about Tennyson. I didn’t care about how passionate my professor was about him. I just wanted the lecture to end and go outside and enjoy the last carefree days of the semester. And yet our professor rambled on for another full hour about Tennyson and his oh so famous poem Ulysses and how it still carries a universal message even though it is set during the Ancient Greek period. I really couldn’t care less.
You see, I always enjoyed my English literature lectures at university. One professor in particular was incredibly passionate about British literature and poetry after the 1800s, and he never failed to fascinate me. But poetry was never my forte. No, let me state it differently. I understood poetry and I could ramble on about oxymorons, parallels, and sonnets like my life depended on it (which was often the case during oral exams), I just never really got it. I didn’t understand how it moved people. It just seemed so incredibly corny. I love a good short story like Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery or a book secretly conveying great social commentary like Gulliver’s Travels (wait, no, scratch that – I never even made it through GT), but I didn’t love poetry. I didn’t care about Tennyson and his Ulysses at all. He was just a name in my English Lit notes. Until now.

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Festival memories: Sziget, Island of Freedom (Budapest)

Ahhh Sziget. Sziget, Sziget, Sziget. How do I begin to proclaim my love for you? If you’re a festival and/or music fanatic like me, then Sziget should be on top of your bucket list. If you like stumbling upon random crazy people, ending up in the craziest parties, and generally like having a good time, then you should go as well. Hell, everyone should go to Sziget and learn the true meaning of happiness.

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Extreme Hoarders: Souvenir Edition

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These are Tom Haverford’s (Parks & Recreation) wise words. Hi, my name is Yasmine and I hoard memorabilia like there’s no tomorrow. I’m no hoarder in the Leslie Knope sense of the word, but throughout my years of traveling I have collected my fair share of plane tickets, maps, postcards, and entry tickets to a wide variety of parks and landmarks. However, when it comes to souvenirs, I’m not one to buy a T-shirt, two keychains, five pairs of socks, and 30 postcards in every place I visit. I’d rather come back from a trip with 2 or 3 souvenirs that actually mean something to me. Here’s my 5 favorite souvenirs that I have brought back from all over the world.

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