Written by Bwog Staff
These excerpts were culled from documents left on Columbia and Barnard lab computers. We encourage our readers to submit their own digitalia finds to us, via e-mail, at [email protected].
First thing I have to say is that you must lose the word kaleidoscopic. It just starts poking me all over, like an annoying sibling.
I stare into the soup and watch the stringy noodles dance on their circular stage. “We should have tried harder in school,” I imagine one noodle lamenting, struggling to find solace in the commiseration of his companions, the cheap but universal consolation of proximity.
Those who do not abide will be excluded from the community.
Therefore, the recent addition of a course titled “Frontiers of Science” not only represents a flaw in the Core Curriculum education but in American national identity, as well.
For while students are left ignorant, they also feel that they have a grasp of scientific concepts. In discussions, students debate the ideas presented to them in lecture as if they have the slightest grasp of the concepts, which of course they do not.
After coming to Columbia and talking to my new friends about their existential crises and struggles of self-definition, I realized that my level of introspection is truly lacking.
…And the tarzanic language at the end. I think consistent imagery would help. Also, is it really the bargain hunter that is wanted? Isn’t it the object of sale, of black Friday?
This is definitely a possibility as so many people everyday make decisions like these. Ruining someone’s career because it makes you happy does not make it morally right.
Mortal women are the last of the suspects.
From my bed I scan the audience of stuffed animals that watches me from their diverse world on my windowsill, where penguins and polar bears live alongside bears and monkeys, with cartoon characters and aliens sprinkled among them. Trying to escape the fixed gaze of each creature, I contemplate the smallness of the space they are forced to share with creatures entirely different from themselves. In this respect, I suppose, they are very much human.
After we hang up, I keep thinking about all the tiny interactions that fill our lives. Each day is an endless series of exchanges, both central and marginal, and these come to dominate our consciousness. Whatever meaning we ascribe to our life is nothing more than our own effort to impose an overarching narrative on these ceaseless interactions, to bestow upon a string of vignettes a sort of epic grandeur.