Personal essay: Observations from an ever-changing NYC

AYINDE J. STEVENS Student Voice Editor They say summer in New York City is like no other, but it certainly has changed since “Do the Right Thing” came out all those years ago. Sure, tensions do flare at times and there still...

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Personal essay: Finding happiness in abandoning pressure

SAMANTHA REBA Staff Writer “It’s happening again.” She sat back in her thin-framed chair and looked up from her notes. “What’s happening? The voices, the thoughts. I can’t seem to keep them out this time. I tried meditating like you suggested, but...

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Personal essay: Memories turn to everlasting photographs

CAROLYN RUBINFELD Contributor I yawn, slowly scrolling through my Facebook feed. It’s 7:20 a.m., but I can’t sleep. A flood of my old pictures bombards me, if only to pass some time. A bright orange wig explodes out of a photo while...

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Personal essay: I know it’s no way to live, but it’s all I know

MONIQUE T. VITCHE News Editor In Ithaca N.Y., there’s a stone bridge that goes over the Cascadilla Gorge, leading to Cornell University. There’s a ninety-foot drop between the bridge and the Cascadilla Creek, which empties into Lake Cayuga, one of the...

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From the editor’s desk: Ready to graduate?

MELANIE ANZIDEI Editor-in-Chief For the past four years, I have been preparing myself for May 21. I know I’m not alone when I say that. Being a senior has opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed. I mean, I...

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Essay: Grotesque Port Authority, New York City and Hoboken

JOHN SAAVEDRA JR. Student Voice Editor Port Authority: A man with a black bag full of what smells like feces. White jacket, a sports team logo on the back. Young. Looks normal except for the horrible stench coming from his black bag. He...

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Essay: I never told a lie and that makes me a liar

MONIQUE T. VITCHE News Editor I’m a terrible liar, I know this. I start laughing or smiling when I’m not being truthful, but I can’t stop. It’s never about anything important or serious, only trivial things, but still I do it...

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Essay: I still call it ‘home,’ even though I’m never there

MELANIE ANZIDEI Editor-in-Chief I hate when this happens. “Where am I? I always do this,” I spoke aloud to what appeared to be an empty room. I looked around to confirm that the silence was in fact from the lack of an audience...

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Personal essay: Joseph Ratzinger is at the end of his rope

JOHN SAAVEDRA JR. Student Voice Editor The Pope was at the end of his rope, but I was stuck talking to a gay faction of luchadores about the fabrics they used to make their long sparkly gowns. I was busy watching hundreds...

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Personal essay: Friends who remember every story I’ve told

MONIQUE T. VITCHE News Editor I keep having this recurring dream where I travel somewhere with two of my best friends and we get to this restaurant, except the restaurant turns into a bank and it’s raining outside. I stare out the...

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