We sat on the couch in front of the TV, in our Friday night spots. Lazy six’o’clock pink leaked in through white condo slits. Beautiful, but at the wrong angle—blinding. Continue reading Let’s Get Married by Flavia Martinez ’18
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.
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?!?
The legend of Kanye West is as well substantiated as it is disseminated: in the barren post-gangsta era of the early 2000s, Kanye revitalized the genre by introducing soul-infused production and quality lyricism defined by bold juxtaposition of genuine introspection with tremendous braggadocio. Kanye continued to rip holes in the fabric of Hip-Hop for the next decade, out of which grew the diverse, mainstream genre we enjoy today. If you buy into this claim — if you recognize Yeezus’ Jamaican dance-hall vocals and abrasive synths in Kendrick Lamar’s “The Blacker the Berry,” or if you notice 808s & Heartbreak’s emotional vulnerability in chart-topping artists like Drake, J. Cole, and Young Thug — then the The Life of Pablo should seem like the logical conclusion to Mr. West’s legacy. Continue reading The Life of Pablo (Review by Elias Schultz ’18)
His grandmother sends him a book called The Thinker’s Thesaurus. The book is in its expanded third edition. It promises to provide sophisticated alternatives to common words. On the back cover, a white male linguist praises it: “This magisterial reference work is clear and authoritative. It will help you preserve the highest layers of the English vocabulary.” His grandmother is not a white male, nor is she magisterial. She is quite poor, lives alone, and can only see out of one eye. Nonetheless, sometimes she still finds ways to say hurtful things about Mexicans.
Today, I am a confident female with active goals and dreams so big that I tend to become uncomfortable telling others about them. I am of African-American, Indian, and Caucasian descent. I consider myself a child of God, who happens to be my Heavenly Father. Thus, I am royalty and entitled to the desires of my heart if it be in His will. I am full of hope, love, compassion, generosity, and humility. I am the lyrics I listen to and the things I am passionate about. Continue reading On Self-Love by Shatoyia Jones ’19