Sweet T. and Biscuits

          Politicians love to toss around stories of “hardworking Americans” and “small business owners” who, presumably either because of something the politician has done, or because of something their opponent wants to stop from happening, are able to achieve the “American dream”.                 My parents are small business owners. They’re hardworking Americans. They do what they love for a living, in a business that they built from the ground up. It just doesn’t get more American Dream-y than that. They, like many of the 4,000 or so residents of my hometown in Tennessee, make their living solely through the tourism that comes through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Today, American politicians’ inability to perform their basic functions led to the indefinite closing of that park, and just like that: my parents have to close their business today. Pr...

                Lately, I find myself spending an awful lot of my free time on BuzzFeed. Sure, they love stealing articles, pictures, and ideas from smaller corners of the Internet and putting them in lists that maximize instant gratification, but sometimes simplicity is what you need after a long day of work. More importantly, sometimes the simplest, silliest things can change the way you view your life. Take, for example, the series of articles comparing actions and feelings at various ages (titled something like “____ In Your Early 20’s Versus ___ In Your Late 20’s”). Essentially the point of all of these articles is that your first few years of post-college life are supposed to be full of fun, insecurity, terrible choices, crackling energy, and no solid consequences. As you grow throughout the decade (and throughout the rest of your life), maturity sets in, usually coupled with a slower, less manic vivaci...

To Stephanie Spangler, M.D., Deputy Provost for Health Affairs and Academic Integrity,                My name is Tara Tyrrell. I was a member of Saybrook College, class of 2012. A first-generation Yalie, I grew up in a small mountain town in Tennessee, the only child of a small-business family. When I matriculated, the promise that Yale made to me that I would be given a lifetime of opportunities, a wealth of knowledge, and the equal honor and respect afforded to every student (regardless of my background, gender, race, or religion), felt like one I could count on. However, the report that the University released this week qualifying rape as “nonconsensual sex” and making it clear that the usual punishment for such an offense is a verbal slap on the wrist has made it quite clear to me that my faith in that promise was very foolish, indeed.           ...

                Yesterday morning, I was in a really bad mood. I had just spent the whole day Sunday driving up from Pittsburgh for our spur-of-the-moment road trip to the NCAA hockey championship, where my beloved alma mater made history Saturday night. One of our clinic’s offices was closed because it was a state holiday, and because the Boston Marathon runs right past their office every year, which makes it impossible to get patients in and out. As a result, I was exhausted and grumpy that our office was open, and all I wanted to do was skip work, take a nap, and watch the Boston Marathon. Unfortunately (or so I thought), Tom had a mandatory class that day and my office was severely understaffed, so I didn’t have a choice. I’d have to hear about the Marathon from someone else.                 It started out as a hushed conversation...

          Unemployment is the new black. Forget about your college friends who went into a really specific field like finance, medicine, or law. Forget about your friends whose families have awesome connections, or the money to let them do unpaid internships after graduation in the hopes that they'll turn into paying jobs. Look at the History, English, Psych, Anthro, Poly Sci, Journalism, or even  Engineering majors who aren't going to grad school and don't have those professional connections, and chances are they're probably either looking for work or doing something as a backup until their work falls into place. Yeah, post-graduation teaching programs, I'm looking at you. I seriously considered doing one of two teaching programs in New York after graduation for all the wrong reasons. It was a noble cause. It was a paying job. It would give me a Master's degree. I'd probably be good at it. Never mind that I had never intended to be a t...

     Chances are that if you're reading this it's because you're taking the bribe I offered to get you to read my far less exciting blog on the Parents And Colleges website. Hi! Don't feel guilty. That's what adulthood is all about. I'd also like to apologize in advance for the weird spacing. Blogspot is having a fit right now over formatting. I'm doing the best I can.       As you probably know, I'm a huge admirer of the Cracked website , possibly even to a fault. I get most of my new information AND most of my laughs in the same articles...you tell me who's winning, Reddit posters. You tell me. Anyway, as a nod to my favorite website, I've decided to pay tribute to them by stealing their format to write about something that's been driving me absolutely nuts lately-romantic moments in songs, movies, and commercials that are actually horrible when you stop to pay attention (good to see my on-topic titling skills are top-notch, isn't i...

            I remember the first time I cried with joy. I was eleven, sitting on a family friend’s porch with my parents when a sweet, sad-eyed hound dog puppy came up to me and put his head in my lap. Within seconds, he became my first love. My parents had already planned on taking him home with us, but wanted to see how we interacted first and when they told me he was mine, I felt it. There’s something about tears of joy. You’re overcome with happiness that’s so intense it almost feels like pain, and when the tears come out you feel a little embarrassed, crying like a little girl. But I was a little girl, and this was my first dog. An obsession with Lord of the Rings led to a serious discussion about whether Boromir was a reasonable name for a dog, and my parents finally convinced me to settle on Frodo.             Frodo was not an easy dog to handle. I’m pretty convinced he’d been beaten at...