Samuel Brantly is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He spends most of his time studying physics or math and has a love of alliteration. It's Only Logical appears on Tuesdays this semester. He can be reached at [email protected]
Probably not, but I was too drunk to worry about the validity of the statement and too fixated on the idea of mitigating the inevitable wave of despair that I associate with falling back into sobriety. We lay there for a little while longer and chatted about pretty much everything , except for what was on our minds. Kant said that it was wrong to use someone as a means to an end, but I don’t really enjoy sex that much so I wasn’t too worried. James 1:15 briefly popped into my mind, but I’ve done worse so again I wasn’t too worried. I woke up early the next morning; we exchanged a hopeless ‘later’ and I began my long walk back to Cascadilla.
I bounded up the staircase on all fours, caught the baluster at the top and swung into my parent’s bedroom, gliding on the furnished wood floor Risky Business style. A small pair of brown eyes just barely peaked out over the king-sized bed from the other side of the room. “What’s up?” I asked. “Uh. I got lost…”
I looked at him, puzzled for a few moments, before shrugging and clambering back down the stairs.
On its diversity and inclusion webpage, our ever enlightened university boldly regards itself as “a place where intercultural skills are developed and enacted among diverse campus constituencies”. Cornell bumptiously claims that more than 39 percent of undergraduates identify as students of color, and each year the admissions office touts “the most diverse class to date”. Yet the stark reality stands in opposition to the propagandized malarkey that is smeared across administrative outlets. Student life at Cornell remains largely segregated. Under the guise of special interests and cultural celebration, cowardice for sake of comfort has been condoned.