Though I’d like to say I’m creative when it comes to where I jog, this isn’t the case. Wherever I run, I stick to a few favorite paths. I have three in my hometown, one at my grandparents’ in Philadelphia, and four in Amherst. Known to most runners are the Norwottuck Rail Trail, the Emily Dickinson Trail, and the UMass Loop. These are routes one, two, and three for me. Number four on my list—and number one in my heart—is Main Street.
“Feminism is cancer. Thank you very much.” With those words, Milo Yiannopoulos sat back down in his chair, not thirty seconds after walking to the podium and beginning the talk. Continue reading The Sickening by Sam Wohlforth ’17
As I am falling asleep in my room back home, I occasionally hear the wolves howling on the other side of our lake. I know these mournful cries belong to the wolves because, unlike coyotes, their notes are sustained across a single legato wail.
Before I was old enough to know the word “introvert”, along with its societal implications, I was its embodiment. Continue reading Introversion by Sam O’Brien ’18
I never understood why so many people claim to feel uncomfortable on the phone until I had to ask a hard-of-hearing seventy year old man for five grand, moments after he mentioned that he didn’t “feel right” about the Board officially doing away with Lord Jeff as the mascot.
I’ve always been “the skinny one,” the athletic one, the health-conscious one and, thus, the dedicated one. In my family, few people are skinny.
“What are you possibly going to do with a philosophy degree?”
I’ve fielded this question and others like it more times that I care to recall. The inquirer usually raises an eyebrow, then casts me a pitying glance as they envision my inevitably unemployed future. Then, with a conspiratorial wink, they’ll lean in (often so they’re uncomfortably close), and assure me that I can always go to law school.
It all started with Tpain. On a night damp with rain and cheap beer, we “met.” The time following spring concert was bound by the hyperspeed that is true of Amherst spring. In what seemed like a week, we shared phone numbers, then time, then hopes.
Finding our way in a chaotic post-undergraduate world
“Do you need any help?” I ask the group leaders in front of me. We’re at a busy intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to turn white. It’s a welcome reprieve from all the walking we’ve been doing the past few days. Our days on the trek are packed in one tightly concentrated schedule, so every break we can get is a welcome retreat. Behind us, ten more Amherst College students congregate, chatting about the latest event in our trek – a group luncheon we had with several Amherst alums at the World Bank.
While I was waiting to fill up my water bottle on the first floor of Frost at the Brita station that is always mysteriously and troublingly slow, I began to look at the Frost comment cards posted to the bulletin board. Most of the comments addressed how wonderful the library and its staff are, yet one notecard truly stood out. Written in all caps, it declared:
I REMEMBER WHEN LIBRARIES WERE BASTIONS OF ETIQUETTE VIA SILENCE. “SOCIAL FLOOR”IS A CUTE IDEA, BUT YOU HAVE THE WHOLE CAMPUS TO BE SOCIAL + LOUD. WHY TAKE THE LIBRARY’S ESSENCE OF STUDY AWAY FROM US?!?