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• 1 media/marble.JPG 2019-05-11T02:49:08+00:00 My Story 10 image_header 2020-01-26T04:45:03+00:00 What started off as a search for a ghost turned out to be the first stepping stone to unearthing a great love story. Bunce Hall, which to me was just a breeding ground for paranormal activity, was to someone else the place that true love became a reality. Places, therefore, are complex because the way you interpret and assign meaning to them depends on the experiences you had there. This got me to thinking about something I should have been questioning all along: What is my "Bunce Story?" 
  
  When we drew our Glassboro maps in the second week of class, Bunce was on mine. In fact, Bunce was the only place on my map that had a distinguishable shape. I think the reason I did this wasn't just because Bunce has a notable architechture, but instead because Bunce, slowly over the course of this semester, had been becoming specific to me. 
  
  I entered this university as an English major not because I wanted to be, but because I thought it was all I could do. I was extremely depressed and I didn't really know what I wanted out of life, except that I really didn't want to be a part of it. This past fall was the hardest point in my life, and I barely could understand how I was making it through each week. By some lucky stroke of fate, I ended up in Brit Lit I with Dr. Falck, who not only helped to reignite my love of learning, but whose class also helped me to realize that literature was what made me truly happy. I made the trek to Bunce several times over the last two semesters to talk with her about papers and possible graduate school plans. Bunce became a place of hope that I, too, could one day be happy doing what I loved to do. 
  
  Not only did Bunce offer me hope, it offered me community. Almost everyone I care about is tied to Bunce in some way. Whether it be my best friend, the president of the math team, who has a time capsule planted on the front lawn of Bunce; professors and friends who unknowingly helped me pick up and reassemble my broken pieces; or a boy, who I met in my Shakespeare class this past fall, who I took ghosthunting in Bunce on our first date (sorry, Dane, I know you didn't want to break in) and has given me more love than I ever thought I deserved, Bunce has snuck its way into almost everything I love, and I never even noticed until now.
  
  Whether it be a tale of ghosts, love, or hope, Bunce has many different stories depending on who you ask, and now, through my story, I have become a part of the collective memory that is Bunce Hall.