In our modern age, technology has made it so that the visually impaired are able to partake in many of the same activities as anyone else. Text-to-speech programs, which narrate a website, make it easy to browse the web. There … Read More
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING One time when I was walking down the street, I saw Kenneth Branagh. I said, Hey! Kenneth Branagh! I loved your adaptation of _Much Ado About Nothing_! And your work in _Wild Wild West_! I mean … Read More
In writing about the pillow fight that took place on Friday, April 17 in front of the Frist Campus Center, I feel it is my duty to report as accurately as possible the events that transpired up to and during those ten idyllic minutes of being bathed in feathers. The following report is as honest and strictly detailed as my mind would allow.
It happens more often than perhaps it should: a celebrity, be it rock star, movie icon, or stud athlete, is upheld on a pedestal for many years during his or her career, only to come crashing down at some shocking revelation that leaves fans disappointed and disenchanted. Sunday, February 4th left me with a similar feeling, when it was proclaimed over various social media outlets that Oscar-winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman was found dead in his New York apartment with a needle in his arm and significant amounts of heroin in the vicinity.
I personally didn’t confess to myself that I had an impossible crush on my RCA until about a month in, impossible because of my sexual ineptitude, and impossible because so far, his role had been less disciplinary and more parental.
BOX You’d handed me the thing because I’d asked to read your letters, made in Romania— not that you’d been there yourself, but from an aunt, you spoke, half-crazy. And because it was a puzzle, you said: Open it. You … Read More
If I had five kopecks for every time an American friend has asked me about Russia’s take on Obama and the election, I’d have a hell of a lot of kopecks (but I’d still be poor – thanks, world economy!).
