post- 03/01/19

In This Issue

Weighing in on Freshman 15

Abbie Hui 4

Forever Leung

sarah lettes 2

Naomi Kim 4

Dog Days Jackson Barkstom 5

Prouston, We Have a Problem post- night owls 6

Midnight Mumbles

postCover by Rachel Shin

MAR 1

VOL 23 —

ISSUE 17

FEATURE

Forever Leung

Community in Faunce’s Leung Family Gallery By sarah lettes

I

Illustrated by Ashley Hernandez

n the middle of campus lies a sort of oasis. Just beneath its heavy wood floors, the Blue Room buzzes with noise and energy. Just outside its tall glass windows, the Main Green is a pinball machine of students bouncing from class to class.

Just above its high ceilings, the Providence gods sling every possible combination of water and ice onto the roof.

But in this one space, the chaos disappears. The only sounds are the fluttering of turning pages, the rustle of jackets as friends hug each other in greeting, and the occasional clank of the startled student standing up and colliding with one of the lamps.

Light streams in from all directions, bathing the couches in the bright glow of winter mornings or the deep pink hues of Providence spring evenings. The sweet smell of Blue Room muffins wafts through the room and tickles the noses of students poring over their books.

The room is the Leung Family Gallery, a 2,252-square-foot space on the second floor of the Stephen Robert ’62 Campus Center, also known as Faunce House. The space in which Leung now sits has undergone more changes than a first-year’s cart during shopping period. But through all these shifts, this space has always remained devoted to

community. Even in its current state as a silent study room, this value remains a core part of the Leung Family Gallery.

Throughout Brown’s history, Faunce has been a center for community on campus. The building was constructed in 1904 for the “social and religious uses of the students” and with John D. Rockefeller Jr.’s wish that the work in the space “shall be under the direction of the Young Men’s Christian Association . . . so long as such direction shall be deemed wise.”

Known as Rockefeller Hall at the time, the space was crammed with everything University students had never known they needed, including a billiard

Letter from the Editor Dear Readers, It’s March: the end to fates foretold in Roman fashion and the end to delusions of maintaining good grades this spring semester.

We’re here again, waiting out the days until spring break, procrastinating on midterms, and hoping that the senior we have a crush on will make a move before graduation. Nevertheless, we delve into the new, fresh ideas and articles sprouting out of post-, bringing a touch of hope into the monotony of academic destiny and soothsayers’ predictions.

We begin this issue with our Feature recounting the Leung Family Gallery’s history and its many iterations that have led to its current quiet but friendly space. Perhaps it will re-contextualize the room we nervously walk through each day to find a place to study in between classes.

Continuing our consideration of the in-between, we reflect on developments in

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Arts & Culture, both old and new, in a compilation of post- staffers’ midnight musings.

Moreover, we can examine our own identity through sharing our lives—past, present, and future—with those around us, regardless of what the French novelist Proust might have to say, also discussed in these pages.

Narrative brings us thoughtful reflections on the routines and realities of the present, from all the events that go into a mere week of caring for a delightful dog to the evolution of daily eating habits and the emotional weight of “freshman 15.” These pieces allow us to contemplate how we choose to care for ourselves and others before our lives are threaded onto new paths, into the future.

So enjoy post-’s delightful selection of our latest pieces; the ides of March are still far away.

Sydney Feature Managing Editor

Things that Will Live Forever 1. That last chunk of snow on the grass that just won’t melt 2. Crocs 3. Your data in Shiru’s servers 4. Celine Dion's heart 5. Stray baby hairs 6. The Jonas Brothers (apparently) 7. Nokia phones 8. My existential crisis 9. Awkward eye contact you make with “friends” from orientation 10. Our love for our readers <3

room, barber shop, and smoking room. The second floor, where Leung now sits, included a seating hall for 400, a large meeting room, and YMCA offices.

In 1930, the building was renamed Faunce after the late President William Faunce and expanded to include the Stuart Theatre. The Blue Room, once featuring a soda fountain, was constructed soon afterwards in 1939.

Over time, the vision of Faunce as a community space for students began to blur as administrative offices took over, so in the eighties, efforts were made to transform the building back into a center for student life. The principal benefactors of the donation were the Leung family, after whom the Gallery was named. Sally and Henry Leung dedicated the space to their daughter, who had just graduated in 1983, and later rededicated it to include their sons and grandchildren who attended Brown. Throughout the next couple of decades, Leung served primarily as a space for formal gatherings.

By 2009, there was yet again a general feeling that Faunce was not meeting the need for community space. Faunce was formally renamed the Stephen Robert ’62 Campus Center, and Leung was renovated and stuffed with couches and coffee tables to become the “living room” of Brown we have come to know and love.

At that point, the physical layout of Leung stopped changing. But the space soon experienced an identity crisis unlike any it had ever known. Shortly after its completion in 2010, Leung visitors adopted “an informal code of silence.” Students flocked in, armed with paperback books and pens, and quickly began using Leung as a quiet study space.

Then, around 2015, the Student Activities Office (SAO) began to hear murmurs of mutiny circling through Leung. Some students, it seemed, opposed the silent nature of the Leung Family Gallery. Some students wanted a place to eat a Blue Room muffin and read Jack Kerouac without interruptions. Others saw a need for a more social space at the center of campus. Students used the methods they knew best to advocate for their desired noise levels, publishing op-eds to “Unsilence Leung Family Gallery” or responding to the Blog Daily Herald’s poll: “Should we be allowed to breathe heavily in the Leung Gallery?”

SAO set to work investigating this contentious issue, trying everything from online surveys to open forums to figure out what students really thought. The Brown student body remained relentlessly divided, split almost exactly halfway on the nature of noise in Leung. So SAO put together an advisory board, which came up with an attempt at a compromise: board games scattered throughout the space and designated hours during which SAO blasted music. Seniors may still remember walking into Leung at 4:50 p.m. in the spring of 2016 to do homework, setting themselves up for a productive afternoon, and then being jolted by the sounds of Justin Timberlake blaring over the sound system at 5:00 p.m. Students at the time would typically exchange a sigh and either pack their bags in exasperation or ignore the music completely. The

most passive-aggressive war ever waged on like this for some time.

Anyone who has studied in Leung in recent years knows that the silent denizens emerged victorious.

The persistent determination to study silently was stronger than the power of Top 40 hits. The space has returned to its de facto laws of silence for the majority of the time, but it is also used for the occasional event. SAO now allows student organizations and departments to reserve the space in the evenings as a part of their hope of having the “space be as accessible and open to use as possible,” according to Ana Barraza.

The funny thing about Leung is that even though the main activity in the room is silent studying, the communal orientation of this space, which has existed in all of its many permutations since 1904, has persisted. The casual observer might see nothing but a room full of students lost in their own worlds, immersed in their screens and books. But ask any Leung devotee about the room, and their face will light up.

To start with, Leung’s cult-like following is solidified by its Facebook page. In November 2016, Isabelle Doyle created the group “Leung and Wild and Free.” Isabelle welcomed any “Leung friends/ frequenters” who “like to hang out/study/eat the strange food they leave out/go on their phone for 45 minutes/whisper to people really loudly for a long time and pretend it's ok even though it's a quiet space/glare at people who are doing the same thing IN LEUNG GALLERY.” In this group, which now includes over 200 Leung lovers, students express the shared joys and frustrations of Leung. This group embodies the sense of support and camaraderie that permeates the space. Frequenters keep each other updated about free food and drinks (“SPRITE CITY COME THRU”). They provide warnings about noise issues (“ADOCH youngsters are very cute and very charming and very excited and very interesting, and they very very very much CANNOT READ A ROOM!!”). They call attention to special moments in Leung, posting pictures of the “transient beauty of a Leung afternoon." And they make sure love never goes unnoticed (“Spotted: Saturday nite Leung makeout sesh”).

A more scientific approach is necessary to observe other expressions of community in Leung.

Imagine sticking a video camera into a chandelier in Leung, pointing it downward, and leaving the camera running for a day. Come back the next day, take it down, play it silently like an old-fashioned film, and watch the scene unfold below you. At first, Leung looks just like a library. At double speed, you watch students shifting around in their seats, unfolding and refolding their legs, bending over to check their phones just one more time.

Then, it starts getting interesting. The doorway, you notice, acts like a sort of magic forcefield that affects people differently based on their attire. When anyone in a suit—especially middle-aged adults and Model UN high-school students—steps through

the doorway, their pace of walking and talking does not change, but the rest of the room reacts. As if a puppet master above is tugging at strings attached to each head, each person’s neck immediately swivels towards the doorway. The suit people seem immune to the intense stares coming from around the room.

But when anyone in Blundstones or thrift store attire crosses through the doorway, a wave of positive energy appears to wash over the room and shift the scene into slow motion. That student stepping into Leung suddenly slows down, looks around. They exchange a series of nods, smiles, and waves with others throughout the room, then calmly settle into a spot on a couch.

The puppeteer on high seems to return when the food comes. When someone places a pizza box or fruit platter left over from an event onto the main coffee table, the heads all swivel once again in unison.

Like a choreographed dance team, the students then jerk their heads back to face their laptops, as if trying to ignore the primordial lust for free food. And then, within seconds, the room remobilizes. Calmly, but with excitement, the students drift toward the halfeaten cheese platters, exchange thoughtful glances as they wonder whether the leftover cookies are chocolate chip or raisin, make their selections, and return to their work.

As senior Isabela Karibjanian put it, Leung is “a community built on shared glances.” There are many moments at Brown when students use their voices to express support and camaraderie. After concerts, plays, and games, students stand up and cheer for their classmates. TAs talk through problem sets with students. Friends get coffee and catch up. But there are very few times when this sense of student body community is expressed without words and among strangers. In Leung, this is expressed through little more than exchanged glances and a smattering of Facebook posts.

I felt the full power of Leung magic one late afternoon in May. I was among the stragglers still finishing my exams, and Leung had been fairly empty throughout that day. As the afternoon wore on, heads started turning toward the window overlooking Waterman Street, where a glorious sunset was turning the sky a deep shade of pink.

I don’t remember who took the lead, but the next thing I knew, the window was propped open, and the students had stood up from their desks and walked toward the window. One by one, we filed onto a little balcony just outside the window and stood in the cool evening, watching the sunset in silence.

We soaked in the sun making its descent for a few minutes, then crawled back inside, and knocked out the last of our work.

This moment shared between friends and strangers embodied what Leung is. It’s mostly a study space, but it’s also a bit more than that. It may not be the buzzing YMCA the Rockefellers had once imagined, but it’s still a pretty great space to come get some work done and feel a sense of Brown community.

“As someone who lived in Em-Wool, I lived close to greatness but never quite touched it."

“This is really ambitious popcorn.”

march 1, 2018 3

NARRATIVE

Weighing in on Freshman 15

For a Healthier Sense of Self

by Abbie Hui Illustrated by Kira Widjaja Before I actually stepped foot on campus, I heard about the foreboding “freshman 15” from family and friends: “You won’t notice the weight gain until it’s too late, so watch out for the 15 pounds that will sneak up on you over the course your first year.” I found this shocking, to the point that I have since done some online reading—what I learned, thankfully, is that freshman 15 is more of a myth.

According to a study done by Jay Zagorsky, research scientist at Ohio State University’s Center for Human Resource Research, 25 percent of students reported losing weight, and fewer than 10 percent of freshmen surveyed gained 15 pounds or more. What I gathered is that weight gain, of course, does not apply to everyone, and that in fact, some even lose weight.

I wondered if this was because college students have to make their own choices about what, when, and how much to eat, some of which are not necessarily the most healthy or balanced. Having skipped meals while experiencing the unfamiliar environment and stress of freshman year, I wanted to reflect on what I have learned and what I'm still working on to embrace a healthier lifestyle.

Brown requires first-years to choose a meal plan, and I have quickly befriended the Blue Room muffins and Ratty omelets through my Flex 330 membership.

The first couple of weeks of school, I found the food at each dining hall decent, but the similar options got boring. Every visit, I wondered to myself—is this really the food I want to and should eat? How could I make the most of my meal credits? With the buffetstyle Ratty and V-dub, I sometimes max out my portions and struggle with how many of the curly fries I should eat, or think that the special pasta looks really cheesy tonight, so hey, I should get another scoop. I’ve combatted this temptation by going on a grand tour of the Ratty or V-dub to survey my options first before actually putting food on my plate—judging less with my eyes and more with my stomach.

Freshman year was a time to learn about myself— what healthy habits I like (such as exercise and sleep), how to navigate the generally unhealthy college food pyramid (caffeine, ramen, fast food, and alcohol), and how each of my preferences really came down to how I was feeling that day. Say, drinking that delectable grande caramel macchiato before breakfast to jumpstart the day because I felt lethargic with only six hours of sleep and hadn’t fit in any workouts to burn out the negative energy. Or sometimes, I would skip dinner because I either didn’t feel hungry or didn’t want to venture out to a dining hall when I was already situated in my studying. I found my personal struggles with self-image and weight fluctuations to be extremely prevalent after finals season, when I tended to push most of my non-academic responsibilities to the side and burrow into my studies. Coming off the

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stressful rollercoaster of finals, I found that the time fed into my existing struggles with self-image because I’d let my healthy eating and exercise habits slide and consequently feel guilty. Such factors continued to influence me during my first year and still do, but what keeps me grounded is Colbie Caillat’s song “Try”: “Wait a second / Why, should you care, what they think of you / When you're all alone, by yourself, do you like you? / Do you like you?”

The song taught me to learn to feel good about myself. I’ve realized that I feel best about my lifestyle when I consistently have balanced, well-portioned meals. A “cheat” day is alright once in a while, say when I want to treat myself to that gooey red velvet Blue Room muffin in addition to some Pokéworks the day before my 7:00 p.m. exam. I try to not use “cheat” days as an excuse to justify frequent stress eating. I need to be honest with myself and my conscience to work towards a healthy lifestyle.

Having skipped meals while experiencing the unfamiliar environment and stress of freshman year, I wanted to reflect on what I have learned and what I am currently still working on to embrace a healthier lifestyle.

As a sophomore, I’m still working on finding my healthy balance. I have adopted intermittent fasting to refine my diet and portion control for the past two years, and while this may not work for everyone, I’ve found it has helped me. I don’t avoid any particular foods for my meals, and I enjoy eating whatever I feel like during the eight-hour eating window I have per day. I am working on substituting my love for coffee—lattes are my last resort for the days that I really need that boost of caffeine—with unsweetened caffeinated teas, like matcha, English breakfast, or Earl Grey at Starbucks. And last but not least, I made myself a promise that no matter what happens each week, I would make it to the Nelson at least once in the morning (I highly recommend going with a gym buddy to keep each other accountable).

According to a recent blog post I read, students experience an average weight gain of only two pounds during freshman year, and 25 percent of the two pounds was due to an increase in muscle. I now think of freshman 15 as more of a saying that scares first-years into making better food choices for themselves. We need to debunk the myth and remove the perceived sense of losing control over one’s weight during this time. Weight gain should be viewed as a normal part of getting older. Instead of adding the unjustified concern of freshman 15 to our list of worries, it is better to live a healthier lifestyle by eating more food groups, exercising, and developing healthy habits that make you feel good about yourself.

Dog Days

A Week with Rosie

By Naomi Kim Illustrated by Ali Pirl You’re a hunter-gatherer. Despite the wild beasts stalking in the dark and the harsh weather, you cling to life as fiercely as muscle clings to bone. You are sinew and ligament, rough hands and dirt-caked fingernails.

And you have a dog who runs with you, sniffing, hunting, guarding.

You’re a farmer, putting down roots in an agricultural lifestyle. You are earth and seeds, grains and harvests; you are at the mercy of sun and rain and wind. And you, too, have a dog. Your dog runs among your livestock—cattle, sheep, goats—herding them, guarding them from wild animals.

You’re a girl in a suburban town in the middle of nowhere. You are a stack of library books you won’t be able to get through and a heavy Dell laptop, laughingcrying emojis and scrawled to-do lists that never get done. And you, too, have a dog. Only for a week, but still, you have a dog, who lounges on the sofa or your bed, who sits under the table at mealtime and constantly wants your company. *** Rosie has velveteen ears and a big fluffy tail. No one is quite sure what breed or mix she is, but there’s definitely some shepherd in her. Almost wolf-like, save for the round black eyes that give her a gentle, docile look, Rosie is light brown with a white snout and white paws. She’s undergone surgery for an arthritic hip and sometimes won’t use her problem leg. She will lie down as soon as you start to pet her, sprawling on the floor so that you’ll give her a belly rub. When you return home after a few hours away, she’ll come greet you, ears flattened back happily, whining at a high-pitch, and she’ll have to bite a shoe like it’s a pacifier.

Rosie is actually my friend’s dog. Rosie stayed with us while her family went to New Hampshire for Christmas because she hates “doggy jail,” known more commonly as the dog boarding center. *** I watched Rosie sniff-sniff-sniff her way around the yard. I wondered what she smelled with that wet black nose of hers—perhaps dirt and dead grass and the deer that always left their round droppings in the backyard, and the hundred thousand other odors I could never detect myself. Maybe the stunted runt of an oak tree in the yard had its own smell. Maybe the wind carried the scent of pine or the bushes from across the street. *** My prior exposure to dogs was limited. A family friend once had an old black dog named Pee Wee and later a high-energy Scottish terrier puppy named Hannah. In the park near our apartment complex, I ran with a dog named Baby who loved to play chase.

Mostly, I encountered dogs in books and movies.

For some reason, stories that feature animals are often tragic. When I was little, I watched an animated version of The Dog of Flanders. The boy and his dog both die at the end, outside in the cold, winter night.

I cried for about an hour afterwards. Meanwhile, my younger brother, about four or five at the time, threw

ARTS&CULTURE a tantrum about my incessant sobbing, insisting that the boy and the dog had not, in fact, died because they had been shown prancing about in the stars during the credits. They couldn’t be dead, so I should just stop crying already.

When we were little, my brother and I both wanted a dog for the longest time. It would be so fun, we thought—playing fetch every day, walking the dog after school. We checked out books from the public library about taking care of dogs and different dog breeds. Our parents both had dogs when they were children. I asked once if we could at least rent one.

And then, and then, and then—we got Rosie, a childhood dream come true. *** What no one tells you about having a dog for a week is that you'll feel almost embarrassed when the dog pees in your neighbor’s yard. You dart your eyes around here and there and pray that no one’s watching from the windows because there are almost no Asians in this town, and everyone will know you were the one who let the dog pee on the nice pine straw piled neatly around the mailbox.

What no one tells you about having a dog for a week is that the dog will ask to go outside at 10:30 at night, in the cold and the dark, and because you don’t have a fence, you’ll have to put her on a leash and stand there shivering, hoping she’ll just pee already. What no one tells you is that you’ll find yourself trying to speed up the process by saying, “Shhhh,” like a mom pottytraining her toddler.

What no one tells you about having a dog for a week is that you won’t get anything done. The first thing anyone does in the morning will be petting the dog, and of course she’ll sprawl herself out, and you’ll end up petting her for a lot longer than you thought you were going to. You and your brother will just lie on the floor beside the dog, rubbing her belly and complimenting her ceaselessly. Your ears are so soft, Rosie. You’re so nice, Rosie. You’re so cute, Rosie, you fur baby, you. *** What did you smell in the yard, Rosie? If you could talk, what would you say? That early this morning, three deer with white tails raised high ran lightly through the yard and stopped there—right here, no, not there, here—to nibble at the dry grass? That two days ago, one of our neighbors grilled hamburgers over hickory charcoal? Could you smell December itself?

The fragrance of a year ending, the faint burning smell that lingers after a candle goes out and gray tendrils of smoke curl through the air. Maybe you could smell the year turning over, the newness of it. Maybe you caught a whiff of a memory forming in my head and my heart. A dog-shaped memory. What did it smell like, Rosie?

Prouston, We Have a Problem

The Rigors of Time, Memory, and Canonized French Novelists

By Jackson Barkstom

examining his life, from a childhood in Combray to

life in our old house and what it meant to me, and

his time in the world as an older man. In revisiting

he said something along the lines of, “You know, I

his past, Proust unearths how he sees and how he

don’t remember it like that. I see it more like this.”

previously saw the world. In this way, the novel

Surprised, I thought to myself, “How can there

is something of a credo, advocating for its own

even be another way to remember this? We lived

form and calling its readers to piece together their

through the same thing!” But after asking him a

own pasts and discover the nature of individual

few questions and hearing the way he saw things,

experiences through art. Proust wanted to help us

I realized that there are any number of ways to

realize that we are, especially with regard to memory

remember the same experience. It was as if my mind

and experience, unbelievably complicated.

had glimpsed another dimension, a greater truth

A noble thought, certainly, but Proust’s method

that neither my memory nor my brother’s could

of self-discovery preferences the individual’s reality

perceive alone. Taken together, our perspectives

at the expense of all else. “The artist who gives up

pointed to the truth of memory as a creative act

an hour of work for an hour of conversation with

far removed from any individual documentation of

a friend knows that he is sacrificing a reality for

the past. I didn’t feel like I’d reached any profound

something that does not exist,” he wrote. Yikes.

truth at the time. However, after reading Proust I

If “reality” is to be understood only through the

understood that this realization was on the level of

creation and consumption of your own art, what’s

old man Marcel’s epiphany in the seventh book of

to differentiate Proust’s method from solipsism (a

Remembrance of Things Past. Stepping on a stone

personal philosophy in which other people quite

a certain way and hearing a certain sound, Marcel

literally do not exist)? Surely there must be a happy

triggers a childhood memory, inspiring pages and

medium between other people and oneself.

pages worth of text about the limitation and beauty

I thought about the importance of others a lot

of human experience and memory. As I sat there

during the Proust, Joyce, and Faulkner class I took

with my brother, I remember thinking, "Whoa,

last semester with Professor Arnold Weinstein. At

memory is wild.” And I didn’t need a book—just a

the beginning of the semester we discussed ways we

good conversation.

could “recover our own story” through texts—the

We get this “whoa” feeling every time we

quoted phrase being the Weinstein-approved way

truly share perspectives with someone else. The

to describe the feeling of Holy crap—after reading

Proustians might say, “Well, you can never truly

this, I feel I know myself better! or Whoa, this makes

know someone else’s perspective, only infer it from

me realize I know so little about myself, and I want to

their communication,” but this doesn’t matter—if we

work to find out the Truth! Figuring out this Truth

can at least think of other people as having different

(or acknowledging that it cannot be figured out,

perspectives from ours, mission accomplished. As

which is a Truth in and of itself ) is recovering one’s

long as we’re at least trying to understand these

story. This was the pitch to students taking the class:

perspectives, we can reach something closer to

read these incredibly detailed accounts of human

truth by realizing the limitation of our individual

consciousness, think about them, and you will learn

perspectives and memories.

something profound about yourself. If Proust had

Anyway, I don’t mean to bash Proust too much,

been in our class, he probably would have loved it.

but I think that when you put his thesis in simple

In the eyes of Proust, profound learning must be a

English—essentially, “Hole up for years, search

solitary process of reading, writing, and thinking:

yourself, and overcome your individual blindness

Self-discovery requires one to journey alone and

to produce a work of art that will let people sort of

“plumb the depths” of oneself.

understand you,”—it sounds a little ridiculous. Art

However, I think self-discovery on a Proustian

is great; and if it helps you understand yourself,

scale can and should happen with the help of others.

hats off to you, but all I need in order to overcome

After all, our relations with other people add meaning

my individual blindness is good conversation and

The French novelist Marcel Proust often wrote

to our lives, and the people who we’re friends with

connection with others, sharing memories and

that it is the individual’s duty to recover their own

are the people who share stories and experiences

experiences. I feel fulfilled when I’m talking to my

story—that in order to understand our true nature,

with us. Sure, “recovering one’s story” does take

best friends about more profound subjects because

we must understand how we see and have seen the

some individual effort and thinking—Proust is right

they see me as someone with a perspective different

world. Essentially, if you want to live a conscious—

about that part—but I think it’s important to find

from theirs and try to understand me. They’ve gotten

that is to say, “woke”—life, you must take some

ourselves as we truly are: not alone, but surrounded

better at this as we’ve done more things together. I

time alone to shuffle through your mental library

by people who color our lives.

feel like my friends and I occasionally approach true

Illustrated by Gaby trevino

of memories and experiences; you must study what

I was talking with my brother a while ago

understanding—there are certainly a good number

makes you you. Proust achieves this objective in

about some of our defining memories growing

of “whoa” moments. So if I write my novel, I don’t

his masterpiece Remembrance of Things Past by

up together. I was explaining how I remembered

think I’ll be hiding away. Sorry, Proust.

march 1, 2018 5

ARTS&CULTURE

Midnight Mumbles

post- Staff Has Some Thoughts By post- night owls illustrated by nina yuchi Music Lil Pump’s Harverd Dropout: The SoundCloud sensation celebrates turning 18 by ceding creative control of his second album to a boardroom full of middle-aged white men, former Tosh.0 gag writers, and Quavo.

Beirut’s Gallipoli: After four albums spent mining the lush textures of Balkan folk music, Zach Condon has dedicated himself to unearthing the latent romantic potential of trap rap. It does not bang.

Deerhunter’s Why Hasn’t Everything Already Disappeared?: And, sometimes, you just own yourself in the album title. Go away, indie rock.

Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next: This is good, but Ariana Grande depicts her romantic life as a frighteningly vivid Hieronymus Bosch hellscape, and there’s no world in which any of the theoretical straight males listening to this album would break up with their girlfriends to chill with her, right?

People are sleeping on the Your Name soundtrack, just saying.

Film The upcoming Detective Pikachu trailers have fans wondering if technology has gone too far.

Pikachu is basically Deadpool shoved in a tiny rat body, and the hyper-realistically rendered Mewtwo & Lickitung are the stuff of nightmares.

The Pixar animated short film directed by Domee Shi, Bao, was a beautifully crafted masterpiece surrounding the relationship between a Chinese mother and her son (the bao). While some audiences seemed to misunderstand the film, this did not stop Bao from scoring the Oscar for Best Animated Short Film this year.

Television Roswell, New Mexico is the perfect mix of vaguely trashy and surprisingly substantive television. Following the daughter of undocumented immigrants, the show makes the occasional thought-provoking statement about class or race, or a clever jibe against our current political climate.

All the while, the main character is dealing with the revelation that her sister was murdered by a literal alien, who may or may not be her high-school

crush, and you’ll think he’s a bad actor until he says something like, “I have loved you my entire life,” and you’re like, oh. Hm. Compelling.

Books American-Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang offers an insider’s perspective on what it means to grow up as a Chinese immigrant in America. The graphic novel pieces together ancient Chinese mythological heroes and contemporary Asian gangsters, high-school sweethearts and wannabe jocks, and even Buddhist monks with traditional clean-shaven heads with the trendiest Asian afros. If it sounds like an achronological hodgepodge, that’s because it is. And it works!

The women in Marjane Satrapi’s Embroideries share intergenerational family wisdom about love, sex, and marriage through conversations over tea time, gossip, and scandalous escapades from their youth. Watch the lives of these Iranian women come alive through their witty, eccentric, but nonetheless down-to-earth recollections.

Food Since Shake Shack insists on holding out on us while it undergoes its seemingly unending construction, it’s only right we direct your burger cravings to another stellar spot for now. Harry’s Bar and Burger is an unassuming little joint on North Main Street, but don’t let its simplistic facade fool you. The bar serves two sliders with each order (but gives you the option to ask for a third—and trust me, you will want a third). While limited in the toppings you can choose from, each slider is guaranteed a patty just crispy enough on the outside for you to be pleasantly surprised with the juiciness of each bite.

“Brown University has successfully created a microenvironment of wealth, disparate from the rest of Providence.”

Rebecca Ellis, “a city within a bubble” 3.3.16

“Is it too much to ask that Asian Americans be portrayed as… normal people? (Or in that last case, portrayed at all?)

Pia Ceres, “Asian American Slackers” 3.23.17

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And sliders are half off during happy hour every day from 3 to 5 p.m., a blessing and a bargain for all you burger lovers.

Double Chin in Boston’s Chinatown may give you a double chin, but you’ll be happy about it because the food is like everything you could want when you’re high. Not that I would know. But pineapple bun sandwiches with pork katsu? HKstyle french toast? Mapo tofu nachos? Can I get one of everything, please?

Fashion On the runway, during the Gucci 2018 Fall/ Winter Show, a white model walked the walk wearing a black turtleneck. Except, it wasn’t not your ordinary, high-end black turtleneck. This one covered half the face and presented a pair of thick red lips. This adds to the growing list of controversial, racialized clothing in the fashion industry that continues to exist despite rightful public outrage.

Podcast Optimal Living Daily can be the perfect motivational pep talk during your morning routine or the reassuring voice that lulls you to sleep.

Regardless of when you listen to it, you’re bound to wonder if you should finally make that commitment to minimalism or drop out to travel the world with only $100 in cash.

Museum The Museum of Modern Art recently concluded an exhibit titled “Disappearing Acts,” which features the work of American artist Bruce Nauman, whose repertoire includes a strange mix of Instagrammable neon lights and unsettling coffin live feeds.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Anita Sheih a FEATURE Managing Editor Sydney Lo Section Editors Kathy Luo Sara Shapiro Staff Writers Sarah Lettes Caroline Ribet

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SOCIAL MEDIA Caleigh Aviv Camila Pavon

ARTS & CULTURE Managing Editor Julian Towers Section Editors Griffin Plaag Emily Teng Staff Writers Rob Capron Kaela Hines Pia Mileaf-Patel

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