Letters to the Editor

Page 3 should have a wider variety of topics

I am writing in regards to Page 3. I think that Page 3 has gotten a little tacky. Some of the articles are funny but a majority of them are a little ruthless. And they seem to be covering the same things. Clothes, fashion do’s and do not’s and so on. There is a lot more to BG than the bar scene and there are a lot more people out there who could really give a damn about what they wear, how they dance or how much they drink. The stuff that is being printed now is just not on the level that it should be or has been in the past.

Like the column printed on Dec. 5, ‘Girls, Girls, Girls.’ The article was mainly based on opinion and not facts and could have really pissed some people off. Like those poor freshman who really thought that 9:00 was the time to start going to the bar. I have always enjoyed reading Page 3 in the past and would like to continue doing so. But if you continue to write about the same things a lot of people are going to lose interest. Hope to see some change!

Carlie Isenberg

[email protected]

Bowling Green winters are very, very cold

Winter is here!

Ahh, the frosty air has finally kissed its cold lips to BG. There is no escaping it. Oh yeah I was mentally prepared, but physically ready to have the wind push and pull me on my way to class was something I wasn’t ready for. Being a first-year freshman here at the all-freezing Bowling Green State University, it was in shock to experience the winds of the flatlands. Sure I have had advice from upperclassmen, ‘you’re cold now, just wait till winter,’ ‘It will get worse before it gets better,’ and ‘I’m freezing too!’ but now I believe it. I just kept telling myself that I have a good winter coat and a warm hat. This way I will stay warm. Warm seems to be like a foreign language here. WAKE UP! We are the furthest away from warm we’ll be for a while. I am freezing my arse off.

At night, once the distant sun goes down and the cold glow of the day disappears, the moon comes out. I lay in bed listening to the whistles of the hurricane go by my room. I am sung to sleep by the rattling of the highly unsealed window. And I keep telling myself, ‘You’re not in Kansas anymore,’ forget the comforts of heat.

Hanna Legg

[email protected]