Column

Where Do You Go To School?

C.J. Slicklen — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Where (exactly) do you go to school? Welcome (back) to Cornell University. For those of you who got off the bus thinking this was Cornell College in Iowa (Yes, there is such a place. Google it.), now would be a good time to get back on the bus.

“Where the hell are we?” I heard one Freshman say to another as they drunkenly walked through Collegetown in front of CTB this past Orientation Week.

“Outside of Mary Donlon, I think,” replied the second.

SUNY Cornell

John-David Brown — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

I know that you still cry sometimes about that fact that you weren’t good enough for Yale or Harvard, but face it: you don’t go to a real Ivy. The sooner you start taking advantage of your state school benefits, the better.

Claims that Cornell is the worst Ivy — or that it shouldn’t be an Ivy at all — are both valid and deeply seated in reality. According to Radar Magazine (and numerous other sources), we are “overrated” and “anti-intellectual,” have the ugliest girls and boast an oppressive Greek system. In case you don’t know yet, all of these things are true. We also jump into gorges and stab West Campus visitors. But so what? Cornell is a great university — not in spite of these things, but because of them. Except for the stabbing thing.

Hugging The Brie

Andrea Girardin — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Eight weeks ago, I came back to my parents’ home in suburban Chicago after having spent thirteen months working and studying in France. I lived in both Marseille and Paris and traveled to 45 other cities in 14 countries. I had the time of my life and, admittedly, consumed far too many bottles of wine.

As the return to America loomed, the prospect of returning home became increasingly dreadful. My wine consumption rose to exceed food and water consumption combined.

Youth Vote '08: McCain's Tone Deaf But Trying Hard

David Wittenberg — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

He’s effeminate! He’s dreamy! And he’s only about 15! Is somebody finally going to call the McCain campaign and tell those people that Barack Obama isn’t the fourth member of the Jonas Brothers?

I tried my best, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Something about being young and inexperienced.

“We believe that Barack Obama is a global celebrity who has a lot of fans out there,” McCain campaign spokesperson Joe Pounder told me.

And maybe he’s right. This is clearly a quality no leader of the free world should ever aspire to. Real Americans want people to hate us! We were going to nominate Oscar the Grouch, but his publicist said he was unavailable. And besides, he has too many young fans.

The Conscience of a Generation?

Ted Hamilton — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

This summer I called Collegetown home, basking in the balmy weather as I slaved away at Intensive Latin and poured kamikazes at Dunbar’s. That experience — a continuous residency in Ithaca during which I haunted the empty campus and walked the empty streets — gave me time to reflect on university life: the classes, the parties, the Facebook profiles. And so I think it’s appropriate that in my first column and on this first day of class we take a step back and ask: what does it mean to be an American college student today?

Am-bi-valent: The Sun’s new sex columnist is in the house

Liana Mancini — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

I fuck men. I fuck women. If the opportunity ever arose, I’d fuck a person who didn’t identify as either, but I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting such a kick-ass human being. I’m not gay, and I’m sure as hell not straight. A lot of people would probably call me “bisexual,” but I’m not down with that either.

We're the Nottest

Tony Manfred — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Remember when we were the hottest? When someone decided that our emphasis on problem solving and scholarly debate warranted not only the title of Hottest Ivy but a whole four-sentence write-up in Newsweek? When our mommies and daddies, eyes bloodshot, faces burnt red on a week long pride-high, shuffled down to the Cornell Store to shell out four bucks for a crappy “We’re the hottest.” pin?

A year later? Not so hot.

Look at us now — quivering in the darkest corner of a concrete basement, our confidence shattered by a trio of gauntlets dropped by a trio of magazines, whimpering embarrassed when asked what college we go to: “Cornell.”

Ice cold.

Round, Round, Get Around

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Welcome back all you interns and wage slaves, to Cornell U-topia, where the newspapers are free, meritocracy reigns, and every day is casual Friday. Let it be a balm to the beating you just took from the real world.

If you’re a freshman and spent the summer prancing about “enjoying yourself,” congratulations on your two weeks in Cancun. Still, you should know that though I spent my days on the Long Island Railroad, the announcer at Jamaica station had a real Jamaican accent. Instant tropical retreat sans the airfare, you vacationing fools.

Super Duper

Yevgeniy Feldman — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Sup, first time Sun readers. You guys have never read a column. I’ve never written one. That puts us on the same page. Welcome.

Now if I can just give you one piece of advice: don’t use adverbs. Specifically, don’t use adverbs to describe an adjective. This isn’t a joke, like that famous speech some dude gave about using soap or whatever the hell he was talking about. I’m being serious. PLEASE DON’T USE ADVERBS (CAPS ARE OKAY THOUGH)!

Year Seven

Eric Finkelstein — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

The more things change, the more they stay the same

Six years ago last Friday I left my house in New Jersey at about 4:00 a.m. in a minivan, my family and my belongings in tow, and began the four-hour drive up to Ithaca. We arrived at Court Hall at roughly 8:00 a.m. to begin the move-in process. I was to be a student in the School of Industrial and Labor Relations — I was beginning my first year at Cornell.

Six days ago, I left my house in New Jersey at about 6:00 a.m., in my car, with my belongings in tow, and I began the four-hour drive up to Ithaca. I arrived at my apartment building at roughly 10:00 a.m., and I started to move my stuff back in. I was already a student in the Law School — and I was beginning my seventh, and final, year at Cornell.

Chasing Corpanga: Relationships on Campus

Shannan Scarselletta — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 00:00:00 -0400

During my childhood, I was lucky enough to watch one of the most beautiful relationships unfold before my eyes. It filled me with such hope that perhaps I, too, could find love in kindergarten with the boy next door: a true love that would last through the trials of puberty and eventually lead to a wonderful marriage. I spent many silent dinners with my parents in awe of the tried-and-true relationship before me. Every day, I thank God and basic cable for introducing me and my generation to the unflinching devotion of history’s most passionate lovers: Corey and Topanga.

Obsessed With Success?

Laura Temel — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Freshmen, I just want to say one word to you — just one word: ‘two-year plans.’ There’s a great future in two-year plans. Think about it. I will concede that ‘two-year plans’ is in fact three words, but the point is still there.

Albeit less exciting than “plastics” (if the above reference is not clear, I have a tendency to cite life advice from The Graduate), two-year plans are a healthy alternative to Cornell’s all-too-common ten-year plan syndrome.

I all too frequently find myself in discussions that revolve around the painfully careful execution of post-collegiate decisions. Cornellians have bowed to an omnipresent pressure to conquer our 20s in order to live a fruitful 30s.

Keep Your Eyes Peeled

David Wittenberg — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 00:00:00 -0400

I’m not going to tell you about how to get along with your roommate or pick classes or decide which set of plastic drawers to get at Wal Mart. I’m not going to tell you anything any other college freshman in the country would understand.

Over the past three years, as a reporter, writer and editor for The Sun, I’ve gotten to know Ithaca and Cornell in a way few do. Amid the bustle and chaos of university life, it was my job and privilege, every so often, to step back and observe.

The Drive to $1.25 Billion

Saman Zia-Zarifi and Preston Mendenhall — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Backspace appeared biweekly throughout the 2005-2006 school year in commemoration of The Sun’s 125th Anniversary. Honoring not only the history of The Sun but also the role it played in major campus events throughout the years, each column featured a different writer chronicling an era of Cornell’s lively history. The column printed in this special issue by Saman Zia-Zarifi and Preston Mendenhall was originally published as part of the Backspace feature.

The announcement, in the fall of 1990, grabbed national headlines. And the number — $1.25 billion — was astounding. Cornell was the first American university to try to cross the billion-dollar mark.

Thank You for Reading

Rebecca Shoval — Wed, 21 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

For the past four years, I’ve avoided putting my opinions into this newspaper as much as humanly possible. Since I have too many people to thank to fit into the allotted space, my first opinion has to be succinct.

Adiós, Amigos

Mark Coombs — Fri, 02 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

I owe a lot to Dr. James McHenry.

No, he’s not my doctor. He’s not my professor, either. He’s not even my preacher.

He’s, well, a Marylander.

And he’s cool enough to have gotten an invite to the coolest party in town.

He even took notes — I know, because I’ve read them.

(Parts, anyway.)

You see, Dear Reader, Dr. James McHenry wasn’t just any Marylander; he was one of five to have represented the Old Line State at the Constitutional Convention in 1787.

This, obviously, was an experience that the good doctor knew he would never forget — but one, too, that he wanted the whole world to remember.

Sucking the Teat Of High Society

John-David Brown — Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

This semester I’ve written a lot about my desire to find a hunky wealthy husband who can jumpstart my path to fame and power. So for my last column, I want to give everyone a little advice about some of the things I think we should all try to accomplish this summer to achieve these goals. For those who are graduating, you basically missed your chance — good riddance. But for those who still have a chance to make something of themselves before returning to campus, take good notes.

False Bravado

Gabriel Arana — Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

For three years I had weekly sessions with Dr. Joseph Nicolosi, president of the National Association for the Research and Therapy of Homosexuality (NARTH). Dr. Nicolosi thought that homosexuality was a pathology, a sublimated desire to reconnect with one’s lost masculinity. The theory: under-attentive fathers and over-attentive mothers create gay children. The purpose of therapy was to put me in touch with my masculine identity and thereby change my sexual orientation.

In Which the Term “Scramble” Receives More Liberal Definition than the AEM Department

Tim Krueger — Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

I’ll admit that I didn’t really start reading the Sun until the end of last year, after I knew I’d be writing for it in a few months. I’ve since determined that there’s no model for a good column; if anyone came close this year, it was Shannon with her flow chart. The only consistency I can see is that the ones I’ve written in Libe Café are better than the ones I’ve written on my back porch. Since it’s nice out, I’m obviously writing on my back porch instead of in Libe. The point is I’m not promising anything here. In lieu of any insightful commentary on Cornell and undergraduate life then, let me conclude the column with some obvious remarks on the twin pillars of the American collegiate tradition: the liberal arts education and the senior scramble.

The Last Kiss Goodbye (With Tongue)

Jenna B. — Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400

You’re all getting Nexted. I’m leaving you and running away with the Cunnilingus Cowboy, the fine feminist gentleman who penned the illuminating “My Night with Jenna B.” on Friday. Everyone knows a girl simply cannot resist a man who rates her fellatio skills on a 10-point scale. I’d make an educated guess he’s been haunted by that particular number (5.75) quite a bit lately, as it is precisely the length of time, in seconds, it took him to — oh, easy digs on helpless, faceless dudes: how I’ll miss you.