It is important to clarify immediately that wearing drag does not equate with being trans: drag is a gender-related expression, not an expression of gender.
Fine Hall: Barad-dûr, but it’s nice at night. After dinner you and I go to the third floor lounge to study. We look at the pictures of graduate students. 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995. They all have funny hair but we agree that their glasses are stylish and 1991 wore the best jeans. We sit back down to do work but after five minutes we’re restless again in the room with brown carpeting, brown walls, and brown ceilings. “Do you want to check out the top floor?” I ask. We go up and try the door. Locked. We settle for the next floor down, and walk to the corners where we look out of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. There are seven thousand students on campus but we don’t see anybody. The corner alcoves fit just two people.
There are few greater honors for the writer than to meet the King of Sweden. This, of course, comes after one wins the Nobel Prize for Literature, joining the ranks of Sartre, Camus, Beckett, Bellow and Neruda. The King of … Read More
I have been involved with the Student Bill of Rights from its inception to its present state – and I am proud of this document. I am partly enthused and partly saddened by the controversy over the bill, although it … Read More
The beach is at once a confusing and wonderful thing to behold. Like a sandbox for man children, the beach is full of all the earthly pleasures one would expect of such a place–one metric ton of white sand, an inflatable treasure chest cooler filled with Coronas, a leafy green palm tree and a speaker from which the country stylings of the Zac Brown Band can regularly be heard.
Remember when you were a kid, and, when you were hungry, you ate, either food that you liked or food that your mom forced you to eat, and, when you weren’t hungry, you didn’t eat?
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of Procter Hall, illuminating the vaulted and gargoyle-covered ceiling, the stone walls hung with portraits of solemn scholars, and the dull wood of the tables that lined the spacious chamber, where a small group of intense twenty-somethings sat discussing Froot Loops commercials.
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.
