It's a frosty winter day; the wind is howling through the walls of the Castle and nipping at your ears, and the only thing your mind can seem to settle on is how much you wish you could just be at the beach.
As I stood on the sleet-covered train platform in Wilmington, Del. three weeks ago, waiting for my train up to Boston to take me back to Brandeis at the end of winter break, I couldn't help but become a bit angry.
There is a common misconception that man needs only four things to survive: air, water, shelter and food.
One of my most vivid memories from my childhood occurred right after my fourth birthday party. Sitting on the floor of my grandparents' house, I unwrapped the last of my gifts and sternly, out of the blue, declared to my parents that I wanted to be a chemist, or rather, a "chemisist," when I grew up.
This week, The Chronicle of Higher Education published an article titled "We Need Philosophy of Journalism" by critic-at-large Carlin Romano.
A few weeks ago, my sister invited me to the Facebook event "A National Day Without Shoes." The tagline stated, "Because we must speak for those who cannot." The event's goal was to bring awareness to communities about the genocide in Darfur, Sudan.
Rarely do I go to bed before 3 a.m-and this dent in my sleep is not the result of General Chemistry lab.
What is college if not a marketplace for ideas? College campuses are, in part, venues to learn about conflict and its resolution.
I am 19, a first-year in college, coming off a gap year in Israel. I spent the majority of last year exploring and experiencing a different set of cultural values, hiking through deserts and mountains and sharing and hearing life adventures with strangers on buses en route to unknown destinations in Israel.
For the first time last week, Facebook correctly defined the northern borders of Israel. Before last Tuesday, if citizens of the Golan Heights wanted to list their hometown, they would be required to say that they lived in Syria.
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