Opinion Columnist Application Spring 2018

Thank you for your interest in joining The Sun’s Opinion Section! The columnist application and information about the Editorial Writing Board is below, and columnist applications will be due January 12. Please don’t hesitate to email Associate Editor Jacob Rubashkin at associate-editor@cornellsun.com with any questions. Columnists and the Editorial Writing Board

We are currently recruiting staff columnists as well as people to serve on the Editorial Writing Board. Columnists write bi-weekly columns on a given day, typically ranging from 700 to 900 words.

Sex on Thursday

SEX ON THURSDAYS | Cornell Purity Test (Signs You’re a Hoe)

I fucking love my friends. They’re the bravest, funniest, most self-destructive hoes I know. The following list is a tribute to them. It’s the new purity test, the Cornell purity test, because fuck Rice. Lost your Cornell ID going out 3+ times.

Sex on Thursday

SEX ON THURSDAYS | Losing My Virginity: A Memoir

From the painfully awkward day my parents and I had the “Sex Talk,” I knew exactly how I wanted to lose my virginity. It would be magnificent — a combination of all of the steamy sex scenes I had secretly watched on the 2 p.m. daytime soap operas. A warm, candle-lit room with a plush bed and silky white sheets, rose petals sprinkled around the room in a shape of a heart, and bubbly Dom Perignon awaiting my arrival. My future boyfriend would be gentle and making love would be beautiful. Growing up with these elaborate expectations and years of my parents reinforcing their conservative point of view on my virginity, it was no surprise that I was on the verge of graduating from college and had never had sex.

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SONG | Humanities Majors Aren’t Homeless Wannabes

Penniless. Paint-spattered jeans. Living under a cardboard canopy with peace sign stickers peeling by the edges and a battered typewriter bought off the streets. This is what flashes through the mind of someone who asks me, “Why are you an English major?”

Yes, this is the exaggerated version of a starving artist — the kind of writer with the wild hair and the collection of quills made of feathers plucked from pigeons on the streets. But I swear that’s what my parents and friends picture in that panic-throttling moment when I say, “I want a degree in the humanities.” Their eyes go blank and nervous laughter trickles into the suddenly-awkward air, often accompanied by holding onto some sort of railing for emotional support.

LAM | Lessons from That ‘70s Show: Leave the Flare Jeans, Disco Through the Next 3 Years

Battling the boredom that comes with being stuck in a Queens suburbs for Thanksgiving, I decided to watch other people have more fun in a similar situation by revisiting That ’70s Show. For those who are unfamiliar, That ’70s Show is a sitcom about teenager Eric Forman and his adventures with ditzy friends and family in the suburbs of 1970s Wisconsin. A show that travels back to the 1970s — a decade of distasteful fashion, politics, cars — it features simple storylines with relatable humor and devilishly creative camerawork that is almost avant-garde for a network show. There really are no adventures in Point Place, WI –the lyrics of the theme, “Hanging out down the street.  The same old thing, we did last week,” divulge this readily in the title sequence.

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GUEST ROOM | Toxic Masculinity in Fraternities: A Combat Veteran’s Perspective

I’ll preface this column by stating my intentions. I’m here to attempt to calm down these masculine macho men we see too often in many of the fraternities here at Cornell, and to approach this subject through my experience with it in the Marine Corps. That’s right, I’m a jarhead. During boot camp, we were legally and illegally hazed. The specificities of my treatment are best left unsaid because quite frankly, they were disgusting and atrocious, and absolutely insane, but there was some purpose to this hazing.

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KANKANHALLI | Intermission

Pardon me for conveniently overlooking finals week, but we’re just so close to Winter Break. Risking my immediate success but securing my longer-term sanity, I would rather dream about a post-finals utopia than dwell on what is required to usher that utopia into being. So, the holidays! They are less than a month away now, and in college time, that’s hardly longer than a heartbeat. I’m usually not one for prior planning (in cases where it actually matters), but when something as liberating as Winter Break is around the corner, I’m a fan of shirking the present and doting on the future.

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GUEST ROOM | How First-Gens At Cornell Do Thanksgiving Break

A few days ago while scrolling down my Facebook timeline, I came across this New York Times op-ed shared by the Women’s Resource Center’s page. The title intrigued me: “How First Generation College Students Do Thanksgiving Break.” I clicked the link and was pulled in by the first sentence: “In 1999, I had been a freshman in college in upstate New York for maybe two weeks…” Knowing full well that I’ve used the “Upstate New York” line many times myself, I knew the author was a Cornellian. Reading through the article, I was struck by the similarities between Jennine Capó Crucet’s experience at Cornell and my own: Dr. Capó Crucet is a Latina, daughter of immigrants, and First-Gen college student who struggled to adjust to Cornell —  just like me. And truth is, I am still adjusting. For the third year, I spent Thanksgiving break on campus.

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LEE | The Average Cornellian

I recently came upon my high school’s new Facebook page and browsed through to see how much has changed in the year and a half since I left. The administration had finally given into students and parents’ wishes for improved facilities because really, the ceilings should not have leaked  every time it rained. Along with the irritation I felt wishing such changes were implemented back when I was there, I spent a lot of time thinking about how much my own life has changed since I graduated. Like many other students here, I was the student with great extracurricular activities and good academic standing. I had big dreams before embarking on my Cornell journey.

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MORADI | The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I’ll be quite honest with you: I’m trying to hammer out this column at the pace I once only reserved for SAT essays and angry-turned-angsty Facebook messages. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and my family is waiting on me to help put up the Christmas tree. My five-year-old cousin is periodically running into the room in which I’m writing just to ask me if it’s 8:00 p.m. yet, because he really wants to put up the decorations. I can’t let down the world’s most adorable five-year-old, can I? I’m Muslim and I’m a damn nut for Christmas.