Updated: Sunday, March 21, 2010 11:27 a.m.
When you talk to the women who fill the ranks of Yale’s sororities, a few remarks keep popping up. More often, it seems, than any commonplace “sorority girl” stereotype, you hear a more complicated narrative, a love story of sorts.
Yale’s ban of the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) program has received plenty of media attention, but there has been little coverage of Yale cadets’ careers after graduation.
There are people on the streets of New Haven who know what time certain Yale students go to lecture, what time they go to dinner, when they go to section and what routes they prefer to take when walking across campus. These people rely on these seemingly mundane details to make a profit. They are the ones who rely on the business and generosity of those in the Yale...
Meet Chatroulette, a cult of randomization emboldening online predators with the prospect of virtual gratification, and too frightening to brave alone. A Web site that pairs users at random through audio, video and text chat with other visitors around the world.
Thursday was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, a single glowing sphere dotting the cloudless blue sky. “La Vie en Rose” continuing to set the scene, it became blindingly clear — Yale is a beautiful place.
If someone would have told me a year ago that MTV was in the midst of producing a reality show based on the guy from “My New Haircut,” I can’t say I would have been surprised. It would have been the nail in the coffin for a network that has sported a misnomer for far too long.
Beyond the School of Management, beyond “The Whale,” way past the food carts, beyond Kroon Hall and the Sterling Chemistry Laboratory, at the part of Science Hill where it stops being a hill and becomes a plateau, beyond even the Leitner Observatory, sits the Yale Divinity School.
Shopping period has its darker side for the Yale theater community. In a perverse and dystopian re-imagining of the daytime flow between Luce and Labyrinth, Marvin Chun and Shelly Kagan, we scurry to overlooked common rooms and basement bunkers, following scrawled paper signs and propped doorways.
While millions of Americans pop a daily Prozac to dissociate themselves from the ever-disappointing trial that we call reality, I have something different. It’s a magical little stick that you can bring anywhere, which, the moment you snip its head and torch its foot, will make you happier. Few things please me more than my demure, dainty, dignified lover, the cigar.
Somewhere between blue-booking in furtive snatches at my summer job and filling Blue Books with exam responses last month, I became a closeted blue-booker.
Since the dawn of time (well … 1701, at least), generations of Elis have begun each year by turning their eyes to the Blue Book.
I researched this article on the Internet. That won’t surprise you, my little cyberknight; my darling digital warrior. You are a practiced and gleeful member of the brethren of the Net. Even if you tend Luddite, the following terms are likely still familiar to you: e-mail, IM, Google, YouTube, Facebook, Wikipedia.
We all know Yale’s student body comprises a diverse and interesting array of people, but meet those students you might overlook on campus. Some of them have been to Iraq and back, and one of them even pulled a stint as a used car salesman for a time. Let us introduce you to some of Yale’s most alternative students, who might just pop up in your next seminar.
When Yalies move off campus, they lose the basic support network that Yale’s residential college system provides. So, who do they turn to? As this point, students trade masters and deans for landlords and property managers. These are relationships that can turn sour at the flip of the switch or the breaking of a pipe.
A recent front-page article in the News informs us that the Yale Center for British Art suffers from a lack of visibility: Many undergraduates, apparently, do not know it exists.
Every night, thousands of Yalies have the potential to change the world from the comfort of their duvet covers. But even after heading to bed, the realities of Yale life drive our subconscious realities. And when we awake, we carry our dreams into our daily routines, for better or for worse. It goes to show that dreams are far more than mere fairytales concocted by tired...
The Safety Dance. You’ve heard of it. And you’re probably going to show up, wearing an outfit that no self respecting individual would ever wear, even during the ’80s.
The ’80s were a quarter century ago, but yet again Safety Dance is upon us. Is our obsession with the decade healthy?
With the University encouraging its sickly students to self-isolate for fear of a mass H1N1 outbreak, scene explores the measures Yale has taken throughout its history to contain past pandemics.
