A year ago I stared at the numbers rising on the New York Times website. Every day I found myself feeling more inept as 10,000 became 20,000 became 40,000 became 80,000. I stared at the numbers like a moth at lights. Inept and discouraged. I still feel inept. I now have a tab with the New York Times vaccine distribution map. It is weird staring at this good news. Some part of me doesn’t feel hopeful since this is just what needs to be done. We failed and are now picking up the pieces.
This was before the establishment of large public parks, meaning that if you were a Victorian-era urban American, you most likely spent your time outdoors strolling and picnicking with family, friends, and lovers, all amidst the dead.
· Arriving
· The first song you listen to through headphones
· When a good bakery has good tea (the complete experience)
· The crisp, blue outlines of the hills here in Western Oregon
Portland is a peculiar white haven, and I come from a melting pot that smells like urine year-round. Both are good, but very different.
Released on August 25, 2020, Haley Blais’ Below the Salt is an album I wish I had during my first year of college. Coincidentally, that’s when I first started listening to Blais, a Vancouver-based singer-songwriter and vlogger whose wacky sense of humor and DIY bedroom-pop bangers resonated with me, a freshman living on her own for the very first time and trying to make sense of the world and herself. That unsure first-year is a senior now, but no less unsure, and I think that’s the point of Blais’ debut album: her label writes, “Below the Salt is a coming of age story that recognizes that there is no real ‘coming of age.’”
“First we saw sand, all over the floor. Then the shell casings. Then the cigarette butts. Then, we looked up, and saw these giant lead deflectors looming over us. Why they didn’t take it all out, I don’t know. Maybe they thought it would make a comeback.” Frank Zornado, Sports Center Supervisor and Aquatics Manager, has seen strange things in his twenty-nine years working at Reed, but one of the most memorable was his discovery of the college’s forgotten shooting range.
Reed’s website presents its academic atmosphere as something of a study in contrast. On one hand, it maintains the academic rigor of a traditional liberal arts college, while on the other it embraces the cultural, social, and intellectual progressivism of today. Continuing the effort to find a balance between a passion for traditional academia and allowing students to pursue more modern interests, a major and two concentrations have been approved by the Committee on Academic Policies and Planning (CAPP).
Now, I don’t like to complain about the most essential room in the house. In the words of a long-vanished graffito from the downstairs GCC bathrooms, “Thank Uncle Sam we’re free 2 pee.” I appreciate being able to refresh myself indoors, in private, without getting cold or leaving a mess behind for my fellow community members. Just imagine if there were no bathrooms on campus—it’d be a dis-ass-ter. But sometimes, after a long day, you need that added bit of comfort and security that comes with a really pleasant toilet experience. Life is just better if you’ve got a light and airy atmosphere to keep you cheerful as you evacuate and some encouraging graffiti to speed you on your way.
