The night began no differently than the thousand nights before it. The sun discretely slipped below the horizon to the west, bathing the sleepy carefree hamlet of Pomona College in the sort of glow that almost could have been called iridescent.

I turned my attention away from the last stubborn rays of sun valiantly coming through my window and redirected it onto my infamous quadmate Jacob Hector Wolman III. I sometimes like to just sit in quiet awe and watch young Jacob work. Lord knows I don’t mean schoolwork, for "little Jake," as we infrequently refer to him, has somewhat of an aversion to straying from the safety of his world of computerized football. However, tonight there was a game of a different sort afoot. Go to article

As far as presidents go, I can learn to live with George W. Bush. Hell, he hasn’t tried to execute me yet. My only request of President Bush II is that he clarify his positions on a few other things besides national defense and oil production.

I yearn for the day when we can stop this philosophizing about something as intangible as "integrity" and begin to "talk turkey," as they say. Let me clarify these hopes of mine by using examples from the President’s inauguration speech.

An inauguration speech is a president’s testament. The promises therein are stronger than any promise made during that president’s campaign. Go to article

Nobody loves smokers. Last year, the administration ruled to ban smoking in Social Room I beneath Clark V and all other "public" meeting places. It has come to my attention that this semester, this same substance-free crusade is taking its "kiss me, I’m smoke-free" campaign to a whole new level. Apparently, and I have to confess that I don’t know the details of the proposal, as it is a work in progress, the Student Affairs Committee is deliberating on whether or not to continue to allow smoking in the Smith Campus Center courtyard. Somethin’ stinks in flower-town, baby! Go to article

Lately it seems I’ve been having a lot of days like today. While I struggled all evening to write simplistic programs for a computer science class, my hall-mates were across campus, playing caps.

I like playing caps. I like playing beer pong, PlayStation 2, and disc golf, too. Why haven’t I been doing these things? Isn’t leisure supposed to be the theme of second-semester seniorhood? Go to article

She was foreign; sweating and mumbling to herself. He had a white beard and a fatherly attitude to him. Joe Kolsky sat behind me. I was late. The room was hot and yellow. I passed along a stack of papers and introduced myself.

I was a senior. I was a history major. My name is Patrick and I like books. I said hi. She sat next to me, talking to herself and to me. Faulkner, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald was the name of the course I signed up for. Go to article