RAW EXPO can perhaps best be described as a gathering of creators and question-askers deconstructing barriers to collaboration. In the wide concrete dome of Milstein Hall, over 50 groups of and individual artists, publishers, engineers, developers, musicians, architects and people who came simply due to curiosity conversed and tested out products and processes. Simply put, a desire to create a fully interdisciplinary environment undergirds RAW EXPO. Now in its second year, RAW EXPO was hosted by and served as a kickoff for Medium Design Collective, a group of students that champions collaboration and design-oriented creation. Many members of ASSOCIATION, the group that organized RAW EXPO’s inauguration last year, remain in Medium.
I became unstuck last Wednesday in the shadow of Franny’s food truck. I knew something was off as soon as the cashier handed me my order. We had smoked a bit of pot earlier, but I wasn’t hungry. My head felt like a half-screwed light bulb, synapses firing in new and altogether unfamiliar directions, sending tingles down the nerves in my arms. Gripping the delicately prepared Vietnamese sandwich, I approached my friends, who were caught up in a discussion of who had, and who hadn’t, figured out where they’d be after graduation. I distinctly remember feeling at that moment that if I loosened my grip on my sandwich, I’d disappear.
The night of May 30, 2013, I sat in my kitchen holding a dirty quarter. The postmark deadline to claim my spot as a transfer student at Brown was the next day. If the coin landed on heads, I’d transfer; tails, I’d stay at Cornell — a place where I had been deeply unhappy the year before. I don’t remember what the coin actually landed on. While it was in the air I found myself hoping ever so slightly for tails, and I took it as a sign I should give Cornell another shot.
It’s been a long, strange year for Weiss-A-Roni. The fact that I even started this column at all was a fluke, beginning with a series of horrible, painful mistakes that one could either pinpoint to when I started editorial compet at the Sun, my unfortunate agreement to accept admission at Cornell University or the moment that the sperm and the egg came together to form what would turn out to be the fetus and later baby Weiss-A-Roni. There are any number of potential starting points for this series of rants you’ve been dutifully reading for the past year. Let’s explore.
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It’s rare to find a student so passionate about his field that he started his career before coming to Cornell, but that is exactly what senior James Orlando did. Instead of coming to Cornell to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, he came to Cornell to perfect what he was already good at: photography. He also happens to have the perfect name for a photographer.
At 21, James has done photography in London, been a starving artist in New York City and been a congressional page at the White House. Oh yeah, and he teaches snowboarding on the side. Don’t worry; your life isn’t that boring.
Sun: Have you always been interested in photography?
This may sound like an insane question: Why would you go to a concert? The explanations are straightforward. One, you enjoy the music the band plays; it touches you in some manner. Two, your friends are going and it might be fun; Friday nights and lab reports don’t always mix. Three, you know someone in the band; maybe they’ll give you a wave during a song, or throw you a (wood) drumstick. Four, you like live music. If you’ve heard of the Deadheads, or recognize the term “Red Sox Nation,” you know that some people have an elevated level of dedication to some bands or sports teams.
You can’t spend a night — or the requisite Collegetown three — of dressing like a sexy police officer, Sarah Palin or an oversized pumpkin and come out smelling like roses. This week, the Daze staff share their wildest moments from All Hallow’s Eve: raw and (mostly) unedited. From disastrous high school pranks to men whose fetishes happen to be your specific Halloween costume, writers divulge their best and worst nights. It may have been a long time since elementary school going door-to-door; but that doesn’t mean the tricked and treated memories are far gone. So when Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) come along and the inevitable good and bad times happen, just be glad you weren’t us.
Sunday, Oct. 26, 6 p.m.: “… I’m sorry?”
“They have so much sex in Risley, they have orgies like every night. Everybody knows that.”
I consider myself a pretty accepting person, but it was shocking that this sort of behavior was tolerated by Cornell authorities. I figure I should do some wiki-stalking before I spent a night surrounded by supposed sexual deviants. Here’s what I discover:
Ingrid Michaelson’s newest album, Be OK, is more than “OK.” It’s awesome. Hits “Be OK” and “The Way I Am” are feel good and light. Ingrid’s voice is beautiful and she hardly seems to be making a conscious effort in her high vocals, making them all the more impressive, such as those in “Oh What A Day.” Instruments in the background vary among tracks and Ingrid’s lyrics are poetic and charming, keeping the large amount of tracks that are on the slower side from being anything but boring. Her renditions of “Over The Rainbow” and “Can’t Help Falling In Love” make you forget that she is not the original singer of these classics.
For all students who have ever gotten bored in a class before, young or old, engineers or literary free spirits, there is good news. Your doodles, those things you sketch in the margins of your notebook as you struggle to keep your eyes open after a late night of partying, er, studying, are now considered art.