Arts & Culture

WILLIAMS | Light in Boston

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I was depressed in Chicago when I did the interview. I sat bleary-eyed in front of my computer screen trying, and so desperately failing, to look as animated as possible. The position was as an assistant for a high school journalism program at an Ivy League university. My job would be to invite speakers from the journalism industry, coordinate travel and lunches, shepherd the students around campus and ultimately scaffold the program from conception to execution. “What stories have you been following in the news?” the interviewers asked.

Opinion

LORENZEN | How Are You?

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Content Warning: This article contains mentions of depression and suicide. 

It seems like everyone you know is “dying.” Not literally in terms of heartbeat and body temperature. No, it’s when you ask them how they’re doing, and they tend to reply, “I’m dying,” “terribly” or with one of those sardonic smiles and tilted heads as they pantomime a noose around their necks. There are people who are genuinely doing well. They’re well adjusted, healthy, probably out running six miles a day, chugging vegan smoothies and holding hands with Martha Pollack somewhere. They do exist … And yet when you talk with any of your peers here and ask them how they’re doing, it seems most of them are unhappy and quick to tell you so.

Columns

DELGADO | Facilities, Friends and Fantasy: What Truly Matters?

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Last semester, I met one of my closest friends. We were in a computer science class, filled with approximately 700 other students. Our rather comical teacher always made the class enjoyable and invigorating in our poorly lit auditorium in Statler. Yet, tucked behind his big friendly smile, my friend was suffering from depression, an illness that plagues many on the Cornell campus. I always sought to make sure that I could be there for him, especially given the fact that I myself haven’t had the easiest transition into the Ivy League.

Opinion

SONG | A Relationship Isn’t the Answer to Happiness

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The first time my boyfriend and I talked about the definition of love, we were in a New York City apartment. The summer was humid and scented with moss, and in a crowded kitchen, we talked about what love means — argued about it, really. We quickly realized this word required a definition neither of us could grasp — a concept simultaneously as expansive as the city awake around us, yet as narrow as the mortar between brick walls. We haven’t talked about that definition in a while, but I hear it discussed all the time around me, in cafés, in classrooms, in libraries. And as Valentine’s Day comes around, there emerges a widening rift between those who are lonely and those who are not, those who are cuffed and those who are eating ice cream alone in their bed, those who are happy and those who are heartbroken.

Uncategorized

It’s a Wet Ithaca Summer

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Excessive rain linked to crop, road and mood problems

The start of the school year is a bittersweet time for Cornellians. As memories of exotic vacations, endless days of doing absolutely nothing and tans begin to fade, a pleasant, painless transition seems little to ask for. Alas, it is not in the forecast. All that is in the forecast is rain, rain and more rain.