The Apocalypse Issue

11.

29.

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The Apocalypse Issue Inside:theendisnigh.

11.29.12 vol. xliv, no. 12 The Indy is hoarding our canned goods.

Cover Design by

MIRANDA SHUGARS and ANNA PAPP

FORUM 3 People Call Me Indy, But You

Can Call Me Tonight 4 Apocalypse Now 5 Quesadilla Quilts NEWS 6-7 Eschatological Excitement ARTS 8 O Canada!

9 No More Sparkles SPORTS 10 It's Hard Out Here for a Snitch 11 Into Blue Obscurity As Harvard College's weekly undergraduate newsmagazine, the Harvard Independent provides in-depth, critical coverage of issues and events of interest to the Harvard College community. The Independent has no political affiliation, instead offering diverse commentary on news, arts, sports, and student life.

For publication information and general inquiries, contact President Angela Song (president@harvardindependent.com) or Managing Editor Sayantan Deb (managingeditor@harvardindependent.com). Letters to the Editor and comments regarding the content of the publication should be addressed to Editor-in-Chief Christine Wolfe (editorinchief@ harvardindependent.com).

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The Harvard Independent is published weekly during the academic year, except during vacations, by The Harvard Independent, Inc., Student Organization Center at Hilles, Box 201, 59 Shepard Street, Cambridge, MA 02138.

Copyright Š 2012 by The Harvard Independent. All rights reserved.

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President Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor Director of Production

Angela Song '14 Christine Wolfe '14 Sayantan Deb '14 Miranda Shugars '14

News and Forum Editor Arts Editor Sports Editor Design Editor Associate News Editor Associate Forum Editor Associate Arts Editor Associate Design Editors

Whitney Gao '16 Curtis Lahaie '15 Sean Frazzette '16 Alex Chen '16 Milly Wang '16 Kalyn Saulsberry '14 Sarah Rosenthal '15 Travis Hallett '14 Orlea Miller '16

Illustrator Cartoonist Director of Advertising Business Manager

Anna Papp '16 John McCallum '16 Yuqi Hou '15 Albert Murzakhanov '16

Senior Staff Writers Michael Altman '14 Meghan Brooks '14 Whitney Lee '14 Staff Writers Clare Duncan '14 Gary Gerbrandt '14 Travis Hallett '14 Yuqi Hou '15 Cindy Hsu '14 Albert Murzhakanov '16 Carlos Schmidt '15 Frank Tamberino '16 Chloe Li '16 Claire Atwood '16 Graphics, Photography, and Design Staff Maria Barragan-Santana '14 Tarik Moon '15

The Harvard Independent Bids Our Readers

Adieu

For 2012, at least.

Dearest Readers,

Alas, the end has come, and we are not to stop it. We have labored for good, yes, for the Light's conquest over the Darkness.

We care for others. We battle the evil within. We recycle. But all for naught.

2012 draws to a close, and with it so does Humankind (cockroaches, however, should do just fine). The Indy has been a part of this world for only a moment of its existence, but, in our humble opinions, has brought greatness to it (or at least to Harvard).

We made you laugh at terrible puns, consider your opinions, and look at pretty pictures. What is this world but a three-dimensional, respirating page, what, indeed, are we but sanguineous words?

If the world were not to end in less than a month's time, the Indy would look forward to a revolutionary 2013. There would be new styles, more content, and more illustrations to address what Harvard students think, act, and feel (we're willing to go sappy on you). We would bring you a Wellness Issue, to address Harvard students' physical and mental concerns, a Science Issue because, well, science is great, and, of course, our annual Sex Issue, crampacked with your very own sexy stories and naughty numbers.

Oh well.

Enjoy your final days. Stockpile defenses and sustainable goods.

See the ocean, or the woods, or the mountains, or whatever part of Earth you haven't yet seen. It's a pretty beautiful place.

See you at the finish line.

-The Indy Staff 11.29.12 • The Harvard Independent

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POINT

COUNTERPOINT Pick Me Up?

Take a chance on me.

Shut up and let me go.

By RORY O'REILLY

D

ating.

Well, dating is a tricky subject, but alas, it’s something that is (sometimes) essential to reproduction.

Now, I think it’s only fair for the readers that I qualify my experience in the dating sphere. This is the view of a boy who hasn’t “dated” many girls (at least in the traditional sense); this is the view of a boy who currently has a girlfriend (which means I have to censor myself); and this is the view of a boy who has been on both sides of the proverbial dating coin.

Let me explain a little bit about what that means. Like most tall, slightly above-average looking males, I’ve had my fair success with women.

But like most tall, slightly aboveaverage looking males, I’ve also had my losses. But do note — losses aren’t failures.

I like to look at approaching women (and more generally, people), like a numbers game. The only way you can lose is if you don’t even try.

This summer I went around with my friends to Union Square every other day (for you non NYCers, Union Square is a cultural hub where college students frolic, read, and play some chess). Was I reading, frolicking, or dabbling in chess matches? Well, maybe a bit, but for the most part, I was hitting on girls.

All right, that sounds creepy, I’m not going to deny it. You can think it’s creepy if you want — I don’t need to change your minds — but for those of you who are intrigued, here’s my stance.

The act of hitting on people transcends societal norms. It pushes boundaries that ought to be pushed.

It challenges the status quo. Why be complacent in seeing a beautiful woman and simply accepting that she’s beautiful? What’s the harm in approaching her and saying “Hey, you’re really cute; if I didn’t say hello I’d regret it.” That’s right, there’s no harm at all (bearing you don’t go crazy psycho and try to stalk and kidnap her).

The Harvard Independent • 11.29.12

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Let’s look at the expected value, fellas. Pros of hitting on a girl?

The possibility of her liking you, possibility of her being your friend.

Cons? She may very well not like you and thus may not want to speak with you again.

But why the heck should you care if she doesn’t speak with you again? That’s basically like not even approaching her. You simply can’t lose.

Yes, young whippersnappers, that’s exactly what I’m saying. There is no backlash from talking to a new person; as long as you’re comfortable in your own skin, then you’re doing great.

I like to look at it like this — when I talk to a new person, I’m not aiming for anything. I’m just being my quirky, nerdy, jovial self. If she didn’t like that, then good, I weeded her out as a potential friend. If they did dig THE-RORY, then great! I’ve made a new friend.

It doesn’t take much to get out there and get into the game. All you need is a little confidence. And let’s be honest, that’s what life basically revolves around.

If you think you can succeed, you can make it happen. If when you’re talking to a hot girl you feel empowered, you are going to exude an effervescent attractive energy.

Like a boss.

And you know what, you are a boss.

You’ve only got one life, ladies and gentleman. Don’t be complacent in the status quo; don’t be worried about embarrassment; don’t be afraid to be your awesome self.

Because you’re pretty awesome, and that cute girl/boy will think you’re awesome too. And if not...at least I still think you’re awesome.

Rory O’Reilly ’16 (oreilly@college) would like to name Union Square as one of NYC’s prime places to pick up women.

By WHITNEY GAO

T

his past summer,

I went to New York City. It was supposed to be a fun trip with the girls to visit friends, eat good food, and participate in guilty amounts of retail therapy.

Please note the word “supposed.”

Unfortunately, on one day’s visit to Union Square, we were immediately accosted by a group of similarlyaged males who apparently, to put it bluntly, thought they were the shit.

Sure, men argue that being hit on should be flattering. And yes, it is. But what they don’t understand is that there is a very thin line that separates flattering and just downright creepy.

Men, in your defense, there are some women who seem to have no breaking point — they just soak in attention like nighttime moisturizer, with absolutely no tool for discrimination between the wanted and unwanted kind. If you have ever met a woman like this, I’m very sorry to break it to you, but they are as common as a decent-tasting light-calorie beer.

So, back to the story, right.

Immediately accosted. Totally not the shit.

A traditional male presentation of courting began. That cheesy, cheeky opening pick-up line. The necessary showboating and then some. Popping our personal space bubbles a little too often. It pains me to recount this for you, vague as it is. Pains me. I hope you feel special now.

And, like the sane women I like to think we are, we sent them the appropriate “Hell No” signals.

Gradual drifting, half-hearted fake laughs, and nonexistent friends we were supposed to be meeting were all employed. But to no avail.

I can only think of two explanations for this. First, men are just completely oblivious. This is the one I would like to believe, since this assigns men a good heart. They assume men are inherently good and well-meaning.

The second, however, is more likely — men think they’re the shit. They cannot believe they can fail. And when they do, they believe that women are to blame. Women must

be too close-minded and branded with that famously cold B-word. Women must be ice queens. They must be too picky. Clearly.

Why do men think that it’s okay for them to continuously pursue leads that are clearly dead-ends? I don’t blame them for trying — in fact, they should get gold stars for that. It doesn’t hurt to try. But it does hurt when someone blatantly says no. It shouldn’t even come to that! When someone hints at a no — or even when someone just doesn’t give you any signs at a yes — that should be a good cue to step away.

I really don’t understand men. “Yes” means green light. But apparently, in the male language, “no” also means green light! Is the light always green?

Does it never turn that cautionary yellow (“Slow down, buddy, you’re kinda getting weird. Borderline creepy now.”) or that aggressive red (“Oh my god, okay, I need to go to the ‘bathroom’ now with my friend...”)? If women are the allegedly bad drivers, then why are men so catastrophically bad at navigating the social dating scene?

Men are very easy to read. When they’re interested in you, it’s easy to tell. At least, that’s what society tells us — and real-world experience actually teaches us.

News flash! Women are the same way! If they’re interested, they’ll send you very clear signs. Until then, get the hint buddy — back off.

Whitney Gao ’16 (whitneygao@college) was not actually in NYC this summer, but did in fact get hit on by Rory.

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To Know or Not to Know?

That is the question.

By MILLY WANG

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ast month,

I read a news article about a man from Kuznetsk Basin, Siberia, who came to court claiming that he didn’t have to pay his traffic fine. His excuse? As he was quite sure the world was going to end soon, he didn’t find it necessary.

He reasoned that if everyone was going to die in a few weeks, according to the Mayan calendar, then there was really no point in paying the fine.

After all, what could anyone use the money for? In the comments section of the article, incredulous readers pointed out that if his logic was true, then the same argument the man used for not paying the fine could be applied to paying it— if he was going to die in a few weeks, surely he wouldn’t need the money.

Ultimately, the court decided that should he continue to refuse to pay, he could expect an administrative arrest within fifteen days or seizure of his property and funds from his bank account. Obviously, they didn’t buy this “end of the world” excuse. But regardless of whether this scenario seems to be a little too absurd, I think that there is perhaps one lesson to take away from this debate: when faced with death, everything else is meaningless.

But at the same time, death is a motivator. Without death, we would be bored of life. It’s the very idea that the darker the shadow, the brighter the light. Contrast is important.

Without the impending footsteps of death, we would no longer treasure life — we would take it for granted.

We would no longer feel the need to snatch at the few precious moments that we have. We would become complacent. And in that sense, everything will become meaningless eventually.

Even though we know that we will eventually die one day, we don’t know exactly when. Sure, most of us would probably like to be able to predict the future. We’d like to know what’s going to happen. We’d like to see what directions our decisions will take us. We don’t like uncertainty.

And indeed, we fumble through much of life with blindfolds on, unable to see past the present to what lies ahead.

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But yet, perhaps it is fortunate that we can’t see the future. Perhaps we don’t want to know when we will die.

If we know exactly when, isn’t it possible that we will lose our motivation to live at all? We eat healthy and exercise in an attempt to prolong our lives. If we knew exactly when we’d die, then what would be the point? We set goals so that we can accomplish them one day. We do things today that will produce results tomorrow. But what if we were destined to die before the goals were accomplished or the results were produced? Then what would be the point in setting those goals or doing things?

Sure, we are inevitably all going to die — that’s certain. That cannot be changed. But we don’t know when, where, why, or how it’s going to happen. And this uncertainty is perhaps the greatest gift to humankind. Knowing is like a forbidden fruit (I think that’s even written somewhere). But at the same time, it’s equally daunting — like the poisonous snake that comes with it.

There resides the fear that once we know, we might come to regret it.

After all, ignorance is — supposedly — bliss.

This uncertainty, ironically, grants us a sense of security — albeit a strange one. It is security in the sense that we can delude ourselves for the time being and escape from the reality of our eventual deaths. We live every day in the shadows of our deaths, but without knowing when the reaper will reach out for us, we can live each day as if we have many more after it. We can plan for the future because we don’t know when it will end. At the same time, the looming fate of death ensures that we take life seriously. Each living moment is relatively more precious.

Most of us are not prepared to die.

We’ve probably never thought about it seriously. Like with many other things in life, we procrastinate. We put off thinking about it and push it out of

our sight. And we can do this, because we have no certainty.

Uncertainty gives rise to the opportunity to hope, to wish, to believe. Knowing when we’re going to die just makes death seem a l l too

real. And reality can sometimes be too much to bear.

After all, being prepared means being ready to die at any given moment. And we’re not ready to do that.

We exist in a limbo — knowing that we will die, but not knowing when. Yet, it is by existing in this limbo that we are able to thrive.

What is the meaning of life? I don’t know. But I have plenty of time to figure it out. And that is what drives me forward.

Milly Wang ’16 (keqimillywang@ college) is still motivated to achieve her goals even though December 21, 2012 is not too far away.

ILLUSTRATION BY ANNA PAPP

11.29.12 • The Harvard Independent

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HUDS: Have U Discovered Seitan?

The last taste of civilization.

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around the corner, I want another potato pierogi.

As someone who currently spends about half her time either thinking about or consuming food, I think that the main adjustment I would make in the face of certain doom would be to up that percentage. If I’m going out, I’m going out stuffed.

However, like most Harvard students, I tend to be too lazy, too broke, too busy, or too afraid of the slightest gust of winter to scout out any alternatives to Harvard University Dining Services. With that in mind, here’s my guide to fine (residential) dining during the last few weeks of civilization.

One benefit of most HUDS (potential last) meals is that you won’t have to limit yourself to just one type of cuisine. Instead, feel free to mix and match Chickpea Tikka Masala with Teriyaki Chicken and Stroganoff noodles. Have coconut curry with Scheherazade Casserole. Journey with HUDS as they unite Moo-Shu pork, Multigrain Linguini, and potato-crusted Pollack on one well-traveled plate. There are no rules in the world of Harvard dining, and there really shouldn’t be. The imminent tidal wave of destruction that is about to descend upon civilization really puts those cultural culinary traditions in perspective. HUDS routine flouting of traditional gastronomic boundaries gives you a chance to taste the whole world, even if you can’t get everywhere in the next three weeks.

However, it’s possible that 2012 will go out not with a bang, but with a series of seemingly-minor technological and natural disasters that slide the human race inexorably back into the dark ages.

In that case, you will have wanted to take full advantage of HUDS’s regular Tuesday

The Harvard Independent • 11.29.12

Study Spaces For Finals: 1. Panera

By XANNI BROWN f the apocalypse is really just

PHOTO BY TARIK MOON.

fruit bar. Stocking up on pineapple now can help prevent scurvy later, when volcanic ash blots out the sky, covering the sun and reducing agriculture to a nostalgic impossibility. In a nuclear-winter type of scenario, the regular lunch quesadillas can be stitched together into a moderately warm, cheesy blanket. If you’re desperate for food, portabella-lentil patties make for passable bait so you can attempt to trap the breeds of super-rodent now roaming the deserted streets of Cambridge.

Fortunately for us HUDS fans, many of their staple dishes will be totally unaffected by the impending destruction of all you hold dear. As the acid rain pours through the ruined ceiling and dissolves the fork in your hand, it will add only a slightly sweet aftertaste to the usual Red Spice Chicken.

While the world descends into chaos, Seitan will grow in power, eventually conquering the various serveries and turning on the hapless nutritionist who added it to the menu.

Unfortunately, the end of the world will also mean the end of chicken fingers.

No more veritaffles, no more three meals a day magically appearing in your house.

No more hot wings, golden nuggets, or carnival cookies. No more dining at Hillel to rediscover your Jewish roots and/or stuff your face with challah. It is undoubtedly a tragedy that the end of the world will take with it all these favorite Harvard dishes (though as far as I’m concerned, the world ended when HUDS stopped serving curly fries). Luckily for you, though, there is a possibility all this talk of 2012 is hyperbolic.

In all likelihood, there will be no apocalypse.

The world will continue to turn. HUDS will keep on serving that crispy chicken.

When the looting starts, Xanni Brown ’14 (afsbrown@ college) will go straight for the fro-yo machine.

»»Asiago cheese bagels. »»Soup in a bread bowl. »»All of the pastries.

2. Starbucks (Harvard Square)

»»Overpriced coffee, friendly baristas.

3. House Dining Halls

»»Easy access to food. »»Company from similarly frazzled peers.

4. Lamont

»»Don't be “that freshman” with the pillow, blanket, and stacked crushed cans of empty Monsters. »»Pajamas are okay. »»A suitcase is not. »»Showering is good.

5. Widener

»»So pretty. »»So quiet. »»So intimidating. »»Very effective when necessary

6. Your room

»»Don't do this. »»Your bed will call to you. »»And you will be unable to resist.

7. Petsi Pies

»»Chocolate bourbon pie.

8. Cafe Gato Rojo

»»As of late, incredibly queer-friendly.

9. Clover

»»Procrastinate on the second floor with the best stalker-view.

10. Algiers

»»Quiet. »»Delicious tea.

(according to Angela Song)

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NEWS

PHOTO BY MIRANDA SHUGARS

COMING SOON:

AAPOCALYPSE P O C A L Y P S E E S PS LY A P C A PO P A O Y C L A L Y P S E O P A Date to be announced.

By MIRANDA SHUGARS

L

IKE A BAD TRIP, PEOPLE ARE FORETELLING

the apocalypse, and rumors are floating around that we have twenty-three days left to live. This got me thinking — what is the end of the world?

I attended a lecture entitled “Apocalypse Soon? How the World Ends (or Doesn’t) in Religions of the World,” a vast and interesting topic crammed so thoroughly into its hour and a quarter slot so as to touch vaguely on a range of facts without the 6 harvardindependent.com

bodily support to make them more than passingly interesting — yes, a lecture on the apocalypse that strayed into tedium.

The lecturer, Davíd Carrasco, gesticulated from his podium, throwing hands across the projection, and pulling the audience in.

Impressively paradoxically, the material, while full of charisma, was still dryly firmly rooted in academia. The topics spanned three continents and thousands of years, but managed nonetheless to avoid what

this means to and for people. And while it drew a crowd of older academics into an energetically delivered sermon, the human aspect was lacking.

The apocalyptic theme has been the topic of talks as long back as he can trace — from 12th century Japan through Communistera America and then science fiction and the rock music of the 90’s (see a band called Magma, you crazy kids with your music).

People fluctuate between fearful and hope11.29.12• The Harvard Independent

News ful views of the future. Carrasco listed the criterion for an apocalypse: 1) a message (vision or dream) given to a prophet by a higher power, 2) an imminent transformation communicated by said vision, 3) this transformation as indicated by this-worldly signs — the world in decline, danger, or human suffering, 4) a total transformation (of all of the universe), 5) a sense of urgency and totality, 6) the message must come from another level of reality to us, 7) an emphasis on one city where the transformation is taking place as an example, 8) sacred numbers as part of the revelation, which allow people in the community to detect signs of the imminent transformation, and 9) catastrophe.

Apocalypse is not necessarily the end of the world as such, but more the beginning of something else, which can be varying degrees from a paradise to some hellish plague-ridden after-time. The word comes from the Apocalypse of John (the original title for the Book of Revelations), and means the uncovering of something hidden, closer to the word revelation. This is why that particular book has been so popular among converted people, he gesticulated emphatically, the ideas of revolution, an end of pain and suffering, an overthrowing and rising up of oppressed people. And thus, we arrived at the theme that seems to haunt every event having to do with words or speaking or some subject on which events might be held, of Plato’s cave, and the dreamer or prophet has seen and understood that shadows are only shadows. “It is done. I am the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (Revelations 22:13).

Then Joachim of Fiore (1135-1202) took this message and ran with it, so it proliferated through Europe like a determined harem of plague rats. He figured there are three ages: from the beginning to Jesus is the age of the father, Jesus to 1260 is the age of the son, and after comes the third age, of the holy spirit, when people are in direct contact with God. His ideas influenced all of Europe for centuries, including the discoverers of the new world (who then tried to push baptism on native people with the thought that by converting the entire world they could bring it into the prophesied age of awesome), and even, Carrasco mentioned, influenced Marx, then full stop on that thought.

He moved on now to the Mayans, but I’ll come back to this. By the time he reached Aztecs I was wondering if this lecture had found a new and perfect linearity of excitement, periodically elbowing my friend when he began to snore, watching various ages and styles of note-takers too yellowed, that is, not green enough, to fake enrapture but still passively attentive having committed to the more engaging parts, wondering about the profound Harvardism of an apocalyptic lecture being staunchly anchored in things the past had been good at or cared or thought about but not about them caring or thinking or even being people rather than artifacts for us to study The Harvard Independent • 11.29.12

twenty-three days before the predicted end and removing completely the passion inherent in prophetic conviction and human living altogether really, and trying to imagine how this article might look without falling too far into didacticism.

But the lecturer, as inevitably as the river of time down which we all like cupped leaves float, had moved thoroughly into the Aztecs — their sun stone, mythologies of creation, and apocalyptic tendencies. They believed that there were four great periods of time before humans, each named after which force destroyed it: wind, jaguar, fire, and rain. The gods lived during these times, periodically evicting one another from the seat of power to usher in a time of chaos, followed by a new ascent to power. These gods then entered a period of darkness, and in order to re-start the sun they threw themselves into it, and it still wobbles today to indicate that it requires more blood sacrifice, which humans willingly gave in thanks to the gods.

On this wholly violent yet astrologically motivated way of life, Carrasco did not linger. Instead, he moved on to Buddhism, and the predicted time of mappo, or the Latter Day of Law (the Former and Middle Days being the first and second thousand years after Buddha, respectively). Mappo indicates the age in which the teachings of Buddha have deteriorated or been lost by people. Here, Carrasco brought in the beautiful poem by Saigyo: sue no yo no kono nasake nomi kawarazu to mishi yume nakuba yoso ni kakamashi ‘Even in an age gone bad the lyric’s Way stays straight’ — Not seeing this in a dream, I’d have been deaf to truth.

Again, Carrasco pointed out themes of revelation in a dream, and the idea of an age gone bad. In this case, the way of the poet would restore the age to its for-

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mer prosperity. The idea that humans had slipped away from the dharma, though, was disputed by Zen Master Dogen (12001253), who thought that theories like mappo allowed lazy followers to rationalize shallow understanding and loose practices (Carrasco commentary: students could take a note from Dogen’s book).

This was effectively the end of the lecture, though he continued for the last fifteen minutes or so, while the room shifted back into a state of active awareness, about a children’s book he and his daughter have written about the Mayan apocalypse and how there’s no need to worry, as he and most scholars around the world agree — the calculations, made in 1966 from a combination of the ancient Mayan calendar and Hindi predictions, carry little merit.

We probably won’t all die or enter into an Age of Terror in three weeks — which, considering the edicts from various religious texts I’ve broken this week alone (I say this while my upper lip is just losing the distracting scent of a proper College Monday, the golden ratio: four hours of sleep to five hours of three-way), is probably for the best. Which is not to neglect the hundreds of apocalypses going on around us every day: the lives ending or beginning or entering new ages, le petite morts we induce or experience, the revolutionary dreams of others. Still, enjoy your December 20th. Watch the day go by, stay up until midnight, count the minutes and hours with a friend and relaxing music, fullbodied wine, a crazy party, Skyping your loved ones, watching the stars — whatever constitutes a good send-off. Me, I’m going out with a pile of mescaline, two bottles of rum, and as many naked women as I can handle. As Mr. Hunter S. Thompson said, “Well, at least, I’ll know I was there, neck deep in the madness, before the deal went down.”

Miranda Shugars (shugars@college) recently watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the first time.

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Voyage à Montréal.

A French-Canadian-American Thanksgiving.

By CHLOE LI

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Harvard carries the promise of release. It falls in that magic time just after midterms and just before finals, a glorious time when you can do as you please. Some of us head home, craving home-cooked food and high-pressure showers, and some of us stay on campus for some peace and quiet.

But there are also those of us who travel to places unfamiliar for a long-weekend adventure.

As part of the last group, I headed up and away to Montréal, Canada. While the most famous factoid about Montreal might be that Montreal’s legal drinking age is (the ripe old age of) eighteen, the city itself deserves so much more renown.

Montreal is, as the French say, a real fête, brimming with culture, creativity, and voracity for art.

Culturally, Montreal is unique. Having preserved its French-Canadian influence and yet heavily influenced by the rest of Canada, one of its most distinctive characteristics is its unique blend of French and English. Everywhere you go in the city, you will be greeted with a cheerful “Bonjour-hello,” prompting you to choose which language you want to converse in.

Everywhere you go in the city, snippets of French conversations float up beside English road signs. The city is also bustling with people from all over the world; as Canada’s second largest city, it certainly is representative of Canada’s cultural mosaic.

At the heart of the city is McGill University, one of Canada’s most prestigious universities. Often referred to as the “Harvard of Canada,” McGill is home to over twenty-five thousand undergraduates across faculties of arts, sciences, music, and business. The campus is gorgeous, complete with a mountain rising behind the school’s many historic buildings. Students know how to work hard and play hard; indeed, Quebec’s legal drinking age of eighteen allows the university itself to hold events like the Open Air Pub, where students from all faculties come together over wine and beer. hanksgiving at

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Most of all, in Montreal, there is extraordinary focus on the arts. Often called the cultural capital of Canada, it is a place where there is a music festival seemingly every weekend, and the Place des Arts, a performing center and museum, is a highlight of downtown. In my mere five days in the city, I heard of plays and concerts on all scales of production, and I was lucky enough to hear the McGill Symphonic Brass Ensemble play.

The Ensemble played contemporary repertoire from masters like Charles Ives, but also showcased student talent when they played pieces composed by students in the Schulich School of Music. Though contemporary music can be – and often is supposed to be – dissonant, bizarre, even harsh, the Ensemble coaxed expression and meaning from their phrases.

This is especially true of Garden Rain, a piece written by Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu in 1974. The piece began with the quotation from a poem by an Australian schoolgirl, “Hours are the leaves of life. And I am their gardener. Each hour falls down slow.” The Ensemble’s phrasing mirrored these lines precisely; in their playing it was possible to see the hours gliding down in garden rain. But the Symphonic Brass Ensemble is only one part of Montreal’s teeming artistic scene.

Famed for the Montreal International Jazz Festival, the largest jazz festival in the world, and bursting with events like Nuit Blanche, when the city’s museums, art expos, and concert halls stay open all night, Montreal is an artist’s haven.

As the natives say, the city is “l’espace pour se réaliser” – a “place to find yourself.” Next Thanksgiving, head to Montreal to find new things to be thankful for.

Chloe Li ’16 (chloeli@college) was happy to return to the McGill of America on Monday.

Last Lists

(entertaining enumerations for the end)

Movies to See Before You Die: 1. The Godfather Parts I and II 2. The Shawshank Redemption 3. The Exorcist 4. The Shining 5. Love Actually 6. Pan’s Labyrinth 7. The Sound of Music 8. Monsoon Wedding 9. Momento 10. Brokeback Mountain

Apocalyptic Playlist: 1. “Live While We're Young” - One Direction 2. “Die Young” - Ke$ha 3. “2012” - Jay Sean 4. “If I Ever Leave This World Alive” Flogging Molly 5. “‘Til The World Ends” - Britney Spears 6. “Four Minutes” - Madonna 7. “Highway To Hell” - ACDC 8. “1989” - Prince 9. “End Of The World” - Counting Crows 10. “I'll Follow You Into The Dark” Death Cab For Cutie 11. “Tempus Vernum” - Enya

11.29.12 • The Harvard Independent

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Breaking Dawn picture Part Two show Director Bill indy Condon the

picture Cast show Kristen Stewart Robert Pattinson Taylor Lautner Dakota Fanning

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picture show Film stills courtesy of Summit Entertainment

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A Dully Glittering Dawn The sun sets on Twilight.

By CLAIRE ATWOOD

A

I walked into the 7:30 pm showing of The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part Two, it hit me that the phenomenon known as Twilight really is coming to an end. The crowd was sparse: a few slumped-over couples, a few boredlooking teenaged girls. I found myself instinctively avoiding eye contact with a girl I knew by sight from high school. The Twilight films are not the kind that most are eager to be seen at, even if they have a plausible excuse, like “I’m doing a review for my college paper.” Unfortunately, the final installment of the series, adapted from Stephenie Meyer’s novels, lacks the atmospheric moodiness that partially redeemed its predecessors.

Part Two picks up exactly where Part One left off. Bella (Kristen Stewart) has just labored through one of the nastier onscreen births in recent memory, forcing her vampire husband Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) to save her life by turning her into one of his own kind. “Immortality becomes you,” coos one character; hardly surprising, given that immortality seems to manifest itself cosmetically in the form of an aristocratic pallor and permanent eye makeup. The extended sequence in which Bella nabs her first meal (a mountain lion, no less) is among the more enjoyable in the film, if only because the world seems so lurid from a vampire’s perspective.

Her new powers have Bella marveling at forest critters while scrambling up mountainsides and demolishing boulders like a jittery Hulk-Spiderman hybrid – all to hilarious effect.

Moreover, it’s nice to see Bella being something other than passive for once.

Upon finding that her former flame Jacob

The Harvard Independent • 11.29.12

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(Taylor Lautner) has “imprinted” (some sort of werewolf devotion ritual that skirts an awkward line between platonic and romantic) on her newborn daughter, instead of the usual angsting, Bella knocks him several feet into the air. Sadly, she soon falls back on the Kristen Stewart school of grimaces and monotone, which seems a little out of place now that Bella is living in domestic bliss. The Cullens seem to spend most of their free time smiling at each other as they play chess, improvise on the piano, or simply stand around and take in all the happiness.

Then, right on cue, the plot comes along to muck things up. Edward and Bella’s half-immortal daughter (Mackenzie Foy), who is growing at an inhuman rate, shares several of the vampires’ psychic and athletic gifts. Hence, when one of the Cullens’ relatives catches sight of her, she mistakes her for a child who has been turned into a vampire mid-development – a crime that the despotic Volturi punish by death.

With the Volturi on the move, the Cullens rustle up their various family friends in hopes of clearing up the misunderstanding.

We are introduced to bloodsuckers that range from mildly badass (Lee Pace as a Revolutionary War vet) to cartoonish (Noel Fisher and Guri Steinberg as a pair of Romanian rascals). While it’s neat to watch them swapping centuries-old war stories, in the end we have no more reason to care about them than we do to care about the insipid Cullen family. It seems perverse to demand humanity from a cast of vampires, but it is nonetheless depressing that the movie’s only touches of expressiveness come from Mr. Lautner (warm but inarticulate)

and, more importantly, from Billy Burke as Bella’s long-suffering father Charlie, whose gruff deadpan and Christmaslighted house are achingly inviting after half a movie’s worth of Cullens and their elegant interiors. Besides Mr. Burke, the filmmakers’ greatest resource seems to be wide shots of snow-tipped pines – I had a tally going, but lost count midway through.

To my delight, the creative team decided to shake up a dragging narrative with some added razzmatazz towards the end.

This results in the film’s second exciting sequence, a frenetic slaughterfest complete with gaping chasms, midair decapitation, and circle kicks.

But despite the gamely efforts of the filmmakers, the whole thing fails to captivate. Whereas the earlier films were silly but evocative, this one feels not just ridiculous but stale as well. Maybe it’s that the movie, with its caped villains and B-movie period flashbacks, can’t decide whether it’s serious or camp. Perhaps we’ve just grown sated – pun intended – with the Twilight thing and all its derivations (Fifty Shades of Grey, I’m looking at you).

I’m of the opinion that Part Two was doomed from the beginning. What made the series remarkable is that it naively offered up forever in a world when even our most touching narratives are rife with impermanence, and even the most fawned-over relationships (Stewart and Pattinson’s, for one) are ground into tabloid filth. Twilight spoke to those whose model of romance followed Bella’s – a fever dream divorced from reality, whose crises would arise not from boredom or ennui but from mysterious forces working to destroy it. But as its title would suggest, half the series’ power was in its darkness.

Bella’s story was intriguing for the same reasons that made it objectionable: her short-sightedness, her lack of self-control, her impotence, her desperate grasping at an ideal that stayed just out of reach. In short, mortality. Now that she’s attained her dream, the audience can see that it was hollow. The Twilight demographic is aging.

By now its original fans are old enough to look at the eternally enraptured Ed and Bella lying in a field of wildflowers and say with authority that life doesn’t work like that. And why should it? We are not Ms. Meyer’s vampires. We like our happiness with a dose of torment.

Claire Atwood ’16 (catwood@college) has witnessed enough vampire births for a lifetime.

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Sports

Crimson Bucket

The sporting events that every Harvard student should witness.

Illustration by Anna Papp

By SEAN FRAZZETTE

I

n a few short weeks, it will be

the end of the world. The earth will flip upside down, the poles will shift, the sun will implode and then explode, and the moon will land in the fields of Oklahoma. Or the sun will rise another day and the biannual prediction of the world’s demise will once again hold as untrue. Regardless of the world’s fate, everyone always has bucket lists of all sorts: top sporting events to see, final books to read, activities to try, and so on. So in the spirit of Earth’s farewell, I present to the readers the Top Five Harvard Sporting Events to See Before You Die (or at least graduate).

5. The Quidditch Team Although few may know, the Harvard Quidditch club is slightly more legitimate than a bunch of moderately athletic Harry Potter fans running around with brooms between their legs and balls flying every which way. The team finished ranked thirtysecond in the International Quidditch Association rankings, and has made the final tournament in years past.

Almost every Harvard student has a secret or not-so-secret Harry Potter obsession, so this sport needs to make the top five. The muggle–adapted sport revolves around three chasers trying to score the quaffle past the 10

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keeper, while two beaters throw bludgers at them, and a seeker chases the cross-country runner with the golden snitch. Quidditch is at once hilarious, entertaining, and exciting.

I encourage everyone to watch the now non-magical sport at some point during his or her time at Harvard.

4. Woman’s Rugby 2013-2014 As the Independent made widely known through the school community earlier in the year, next year Harvard introduces its forty-second varsity sport and twenty first woman’s varsity sport — both NCAA records — next year: Woman’s Rugby. These rough and tough Radcliffe ladies should be applauded for their drive towards Division I competition. The schedule has not yet been released, but the whole school community should not want to miss out on this rare opportunity — the last time Harvard had a first ever varsity division was the women’s golf team way back in 1993 — when many ‘15ers and ‘16ers were born. The club team has won two national championships, in 1998 and 2011, and looks to continue its success at the varsity level.

3. Basketball Home Games This event — or series of events, rather — would not have been on this

list a few short years ago. But with the arrival of Coach Tommy Amaker, Harvard basketball has become a strong and quickly improving program. Last year, the Crimson were 11–1 at home, with the only loss coming from Penn by one point. The games are packed, loud, and about as entertaining as Ivy League sports can come. Despite a rocky start to this season (2–2), Harvard looks to repeat as Ivy League champions and make their second straight appearance in the NCAA tournament. Be there and be loud.

2. Harvard–Yale Regatta Many look at the schedules of the sports teams Harvard offers and decide to only attend the Harvard– Yale matchup of the season. While, as a sports fan, this is not my approach, I completely understand the draw of that method. Rivalries are fun. Fans get rowdy, teams get fired up, and the games bring our real human emotion.

That being said, why not attend the origin of the Harvard–Yale rivalry?

The Regatta outdates The Game by twenty-three years, and, while it does not necessarily have the same aura, it certainly has the same hatred and rivalry. Harvard leads the overall series 93–54, and, like football, has won the last six battles.

1. Harvard–Yale Football The easy number one pick has to be The Game. True Crimson faithful will see it four times, at both Harvard and Yale. And as the recent years show, the Crimson fans should always end up on the field after the game, hugging their team and celebrating a well-fought victory. The Game has a 65–56–8 split, with the edge leaning towards the Bulldogs. But since 1893, Harvard has led the series 54–53–7, proving that Yale is an outdated football program that pales in comparison to Crimson greatness.

All joking aside, The Game has been played 129 times and is the longest running college football rivalry in the country. And we all know football is America’s true pastime.

And with that, I conclude the list of the Top Five Harvard Sporting Events to See Before You Die (or at least graduate). All of these games and events are easily viewable and should be a graduation requirement for veritable Harvard students. So, before your world ends at Harvard, paint your face Crimson, don your Harvard apparel, and support the squads.

Sean Frazzette ’12 (sfrazzette@college) has a long way to go on his own list.

11.29.12 • The Harvard Independent

Sports

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Yale Gets Dogged Harvard edges out Yale for their sixth straight victory in The Game.

By SEAN FRAZZETTE

O

November 17, 2012, for the sixth straight year, all was right in the world. They say the sunset is Crimson because God went to Harvard and Dante’s ninth circle of Hell is icy blue because the Devil was, is, and forever will be a Bulldog.

Eli Yale’s squad of ragamuffins and scoundrels fought nobly, but the good guys won The Game.

Beers were passed around the tailgate as the chilly morning progressed, and scholars from Cambridge and vagabonds from New Haven made their way to Harvard Stadium for the 129th annual showdown between the prestigious schools and (former) perennial national title contenders. For the first half, neither team made a strong effort to get what some of you might know as a “touchdown.” Yale (2-8) got on the board first with a field goal at the end of the first half, but Harvard (8-2) quickly responded with a field goal early in the second quarter. Both teams trotted to the locker rooms with only three points, and The Game looked to be a snoozer for the rest of the day.

But then the second half came, and both teams’ offenses decided to make their way to the field.

After another field goal, Harvard’s senior quarterback, Colton Chapple, scampered past the Bulldog defense for an eighteen yard score, putting the Crimson up 13–3. The home team looked in position to place another beat down on their rivals, but Yale refused to give up. With a little under three minutes left in the third, the Bulldog’s freshman running back Tyler Vargas scored on a three-yard n

The Harvard Independent • 11.29.12

run to bring the game within three.

After struggling to move the ball, Harvard was forced to punt, giving Yale the ball to start the fourth quarter. Wide receiver turned quarterback Henry Furman ended the drive with a twelve yard touchdown pass to sophomore receiver Grant Wallace to put the away team up 17–13. Harvard quickly rebounded, however, regaining the lead with a thirty-two yard strike from Chapple to junior Andrew Berg.

After stagnancy by both teams, Harvard regained the ball with a chance to gather a bigger lead in the game. However, junior defensive lineman Nick Daffin’s interception cut the drive short on only the second play. Shortly afterwards, Vargas scored once again to recapture the lead, 24–20. Harvard’s senior quarterback kept his composure despite the turnover and drove the Crimson down the field for another score by tight end Cameron Brate to gain the lead for good. Yale punted on their next possession and forced Harvard to a third and thirteen, hoping to get the ball back and have a final chance to win the game. Junior running back Treavor Scales then tore off a sixty-three yard touchdown run as the Harvard faithful erupted. The Game was over: 34–24.

Yale fought hard, but the old adage held true in the end: good guys always win. The Yalies, who were forced to play wide receivers at quarterback all season, managed to keep the game close to the end. The game ball has to go to senior quarterback Colton Chapple, who closed his Harvard career with 209 passing yards and two

touchdowns, with another 128 yards and a score on the ground. Harvard capped off another winning season — the Crimson’s twelfth straight — and is eying an Ivy League trophy for next season.

Sean Frazzette ’16 (sfrazzette@college) really wanted to make an Eli Young/Eli Yale comparison, but couldn’t find the place.

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captured & shot

By MIRANDA SHUGARS