Sunspots (https://sunspots.cornellsun.com/page/56/)
There was a time when the title of this piece stated the obvious (nonexistent) relationship between Donald Trump and evangelical Christians. To say it would be like declaring: “I’m a liberal, and I don’t support Fox News”. Today, that man boasts of winning the evangelical vote. And strangely, it’s true. Donald Trump won big on Super Tuesday, claiming decisive victories in seven out of 11 states.
“I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate. When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die? Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows, Far-off, most secret, and inviolate rose?”
-To the Secret Rose, W.B. Yeats
The morning of April 24, 1916, began for the residents of Dublin as any other in the wartime Irish metropolis. Lilian Stokes, observing in a personal recollection, remembered her first reaction of the day as dismay that the tramway service had seemingly come to an inexplicable halt. Nervous crowds had begun to gather in the morning air. The routine of the city would not continue as normal, not today: the Irish Volunteers were throwing up barricades on the streets and brandishing green, Gaelic flags.
Prelim season is officially back and we are all caught up in the midst of assignments, problem sets, homework and the occasional fun night out. In the whirlwind of all that work, the one thing I truly miss is the freedom of being a five-year-old child. As a kid, I never worried about assignment submissions or grade point averages. All I cared about was whether or not I had to eat my vegetables, and when my favorite TV shows were on. The biggest unanswered question of my life was, “Who moved my toys?” and the biggest feeling of triumph came when I managed to convince my parents to push back bedtime by another 15 minutes.
Prelim season is officially back and we are all caught up in the midst of assignments, problem sets, homework and the occasional fun night out. In the whirlwind of all that work, the one thing I truly miss is the freedom of being a five-year-old child. As a kid, I never worried about assignment submissions or grade point averages. All I cared about was whether or not I had to eat my vegetables, and when my favorite TV shows were on. The biggest unanswered question of my life was, “Who moved my toys?” and the biggest feeling of triumph came when I managed to convince my parents to push back bedtime by another 15 minutes.
There’s an old riddle that goes like this:
A father and son have a car accident and are both badly hurt. They are both taken to separate hospitals. When the boy is taken in for an operation, the surgeon says, “I cannot do the surgery because this is my son.” How is this possible? Spoiler alert: the surgeon is his mother. That’s the punchline.
There’s an old riddle that goes like this:
A father and son have a car accident and are both badly hurt. They are both taken to separate hospitals. When the boy is taken in for an operation, the surgeon says, “I cannot do the surgery because this is my son.” How is this possible? Spoiler alert: the surgeon is his mother. That’s the punchline. The crux of this riddle is an issue of gender, and a reflection on how society often typecasts powerful, competent women as anomalies—so much so that they warrant a puzzle that manages to stump people’s minds.
This past weekend we went beyond the basement of Cayuga Lodge and Ithaca at large, for a show seven hours away in Portsmouth, NH: Animal Collective’s debut of their new album Painting With (2016). The show made the far drive one-hundred percent worth the gas guzzling. Painting With officially dropped on February 19th, after a long awaited release. Though the group put out a live album in 2015, Painting With is their first original album in four years. Members Avey Tare, Panda Bear, and Geologist headline this album without their historical fourth member, Deakin.
This week, I want to talk about the One Punch Man hype train, now that it’s had some time to slow down. But boy, what a ride it was. I’ll spare everyone my thoughts on how awesome the show was, because let’s face it, essentially everyone who calls themselves anime fans (and even a bunch of people who don’t) watched it and loved every second of it. What I will say, though, is that my personal favorite part of the show was the spot-on satire. Yeah, the rest was great, but that’s where I feel the show really shines.
I’m all about appreciating the small things in life. The conversations. The mental pictures. The seemingly insignificant experiences that we’ll remember forever (Can you tell I’m sentimental?). But there are other “small” things in life that I must admit get more attention than they probably should.
I dyed my hair today. For Christmas, I got one of those DIY hair dye packages, which contains dye that comes off after you wash your hair twice and provides the opportunity to change without the fear that comes with the sincere and courageous commitment to change. It’s called Paprika, but I was never really the paprika type myself. My best friend dyed her hair red when we were in high school, and she had this long beautiful hair. One day we met – it was on a Sunday afternoon; it’s always been Sunday afternoon since 8th grade – and her head was blazing red.