Brain Food for Finals

For Cornell students, tomorrow marks the official beginning of finals. It’s the last push before our well-deserved winter break, and the stress is certainly piling on. With so much to balance between long study sessions and three hour exams, it’s easy for us to ignore our health and wellbeing. Unfortunately, many of us make the critical mistake of not realizing that success during finals week is a result of  how we treat ourselves. Finding time to plan meals and not depending on six cups of coffee a day might be difficult, but now is the most important time to prioritize your health. 

Our diet is the basis for our body’s ability to function properly.

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR: Farewell ‘Til Spring

The Cornell Daily Sun will be on hiatus for the upcoming winter break to provide our editors, writers and hard-working staff with an opportunity to bring balance to their title of “student journalist.” 

I’m appreciative of my peers, who I’ve watched embrace the hurdles of this semester with open arms. They’ve worked through the regular challenges of a paper — difficult deadlines, impossible business conditions and ever-changing news cycles. They’ve persevered across the new challenges of our paper — staggered hours, solitary working conditions, long days of screen time, differing time zones and internet flubs. And most starkly, they’ve confronted intangible difficulty — COVID-19 itself, loneliness and the loss of their own loved ones. But still, night after night, they’ve tried their hardest to bring the campus happenings to you. 

I can’t thank them enough. 

When we return after the break, The Sun will be in the hands of the 139th editorial compets, a group of candidates for our 35 or so leadership positions. During these first weeks, they’ll be trained in the work of the nation’s oldest continuously independent college daily; I know that they’ll rise gracefully to the challenge. 

Until then, stay safe, wear a mask — we’ll be back before you know it. 

— M. Z.

GUEST ROOM | To Cornell: Don’t Make Promises You Can’t Keep

Three weeks ago, I finally returned home to my family in Maryland after living in Ithaca for four long months. I had been in Ithaca since early August, the beginning of residential staff training, and with no fall break in sight, those four months had dragged on until I was sick to death of Cornell. 

However, over the course of these same past three weeks I have been home, the conversations surrounding disarmament on the Student Assembly floor escalated to a peak after a semester-long debate. And now — trying to chair these meetings with over 200 attendees on Zoom with my parents walking by bemusedly — I’ve found that I can’t talk to my family, or anyone really, about the S.A.

After speaking on the phone to a reporter from The Sun recently in an effort to convey my side of the S.A. story, I sat alone in my darkened room and listened to the muted sounds of my parents preparing dinner downstairs beyond my closed door. 

I felt, all of a sudden, very alone. 

I had always heard from other women at Cornell, my friends and mentors, that leadership is lonely. I have been talked about, reported on and had my private emails and texts shared without my consent for the entire Cornell community to read. I have been equally criticized and applauded for decisions made not solely by myself, but with the students I lead and represent.

GUEST ROOM | My Residence Hall Director Taught Me How To Salsa And What It Means To Be Human

In July of 2019, my two hour visit to 1 Federal Plaza, New York City’s Asylum Court, scratched the surface in seeing the true failings of the American immigration legal machine. Unaccompanied children were scattered across the waiting room, sitting on each other’s laps, each of them waiting on their chance at a chance. Many of them were too young to understand the gravity of that day; most of them didn’t have a tight enough grasp on the English language to understand the legal jargon spoken in the ether. A six year old girl timidly filed into the courtroom alone, and with the help of a translator, asked to be deported to reunite with her parents in Honduras; the judge pounded his gavel dismissively and called the next case. As an intern who was merely shadowing an immigration lawyer, I witnessed an indelible moment in this little girl’s life that came about in five fleeting minutes.

AUSTIN | Eat With Your Eyes

Normally when people write articles about their cooking experiences, there’s always a picture attached of the dish they made. Have you ever wondered why there are never food pictures in my articles? It’s because nothing ever looks good. I don’t know if it’s my inability to plate food or my lack of understanding regarding “angles” and “lighting,” but no matter what color the dish is, it always looks brown and sad on camera. I’m not a very aesthetically pleasing cook.