Tired, sweaty and hungry, I slumped onto my couch after a late work shift. I was too lazy to cook for myself and hoped to run across something on the bike ride home. Since it was after 9 p.m., anything worthwhile in Irvine had already closed.
Few things in life are as dependable as UC Irvine’s Vendor Fair. Every quarter, the scent of kettle corn takes over campus and with it comes the anime booth, the used book sales, the questionable clothes and unnecessary but adorable trinkets for every occasion.
The pub was buzzing, half due to excitement and half due to drunkenness. At the front of the line were the regulars, people who had gotten the news first: the Anthill Pub was bringing in a cask of new beer.
While gazing out my sliding glass door at the waving palm trees and purple evening sky, my best friend was holed up in an ancient brick building with the rest of her dorm as winds howled around them.
I know that girl. Well, kind of. She doesn’t know me, but I know her. I know her first and last name and I’ve seen so many of her photos on Facebook and we have so many mutual friends that I practically am friends with her in real life anyways. She just doesn’t know it. Or does she? Oh, Facebook. You’re turning me into such a creepy p
On a beautiful sunny Saturday morning, the grounds of Marian Bergeson Elementary School are quiet and empty — almost. Little by little, families emerge across the campus. Some carry umbrellas or tents, some have foldable sports chairs and all are ready for a morning of baseball.
I’m on the edge of my seat. Every time my phone rings or I receive an email, my heart races. It’s a terrible feeling – worse than waiting for a midterm or final exam grade, I’ve decided, because this is something that’s deciding my future: I’ve been waiting for two weeks to be accepted or rejected for a job.
The room was just a tiny bit hostile. The low din of chaotic conversation mixed with incomprehensible music and filled the room. A line of several dozen students snaked around tables, their normally colored clothing painted rust by the crimson lights of the room. Impatient and uncomfortable, they glared at the front of the line. A small moment of silence, then an eruption: half the room cheering, half the room cursing.
Until this year, Korean Culture Night (KCN) has never happened here at UC Irvine, even though campuses like UCLA, UC Riverside and San Diego State have hosted the event for years.
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