The Mirror 02/28/2014

ROR R OR

FEBRUARY 28, 2014

ALPHAS WITH AMBITION // 2 MIRROR ASKS // 3

DARTMOUTH: THE NEXT GENERATION // 4 DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE: BILL LANE // 6 ONCE UPON A TIMER // 8

KELLEY LIN // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITORS’ NOTE

TRACY WANG // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Dartmouth’s history and traditions were among the first things we noticed when we visited this school. They then played a crucial part in why we chose to spend four years here. We couldn’t wait to run around the bonfire and plunge into Occom Pond in the dead of winter. We could picture ourselves sinking into the same Tower Room chairs on which Dr. Seuss may have sat while he wrote his essays. We wanted to become a part of something larger than ourselves, something with a history.

And yet, as the past few weeks have made so clear, there are some things about this school that need to change. There are some things about every school that need to change. History can only take us so far, and being here for three years has taught us that Dartmouth, and some of the traditions that brought us here, are in no way perfect.

There are very few things that we can say for certain about the future (terrifying) and having children (beyond terrifying).

But we can say that no matter where they end up, we want our kids to have just as many positive experiences as we’ve had in college and far fewer negative ones. We want them to get passionate about their classes and professors and make the type of friends who stay up with them until 5 a.m. for no reason. We want them to feel safe always and be surrounded by others who feel the same way.

We know that Dartmouth is all about traditions, but sometimes change can be a good thing. We hope to see it by the age of hovercrafts and holograms, when our children will spend their college years being studious and drinking only juice.

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MIR ROR ERIN LANDAU MIRROR EDITORS MARINA SHKURATOV EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN EXECUTIVE EDITORS

MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS

OVER HEARDS

ALPHAS WITH AMBITION

By VICTORIA NELSEN

In the two times I have been to Alpha Delta fraternity since coming to Dartmouth, my senses were awakened to sights, sounds and smells I had never known (or necessarily wanted to know) existed. Yet, my senses must not have been fully alert. What I did not observe during my first moments at AD was the air of creativity and entrepreneurship that runs rampant throughout the house.

The AD brotherhood is, I have recently discovered, bursting with ideas, initiative and ambition, as members have begun their own startups.

It seems as though student startup ideas for improving Dartmouth and the world beyond are limitless, and new companies are constantly emerging on campus. Yet the source of many of these businesses can often be traced back to one place: 9 East Wheelock Street. The question on my mind is — what about AD stimulates such an air of entrepreneurship?

AD brotherhood chair Chris Jung ’14 said he hadn’t noticed the abundance of AD companies until compiling a report as part of his position this term. After talking to his brothers about updates on their lives, he added an entire entrepreneurial section to the report, highlighting the startups and ideas that blossomed within AD. AD members and entrepreneurs have multiple ideas about the entrepreneurial spirit that thrives within their house.

“I think the pungent fumes from our basement do something to our brain chemistry that makes us much more entrepreneurial and risk-taking,” Brian Joseff ’14, member of AD with a startup in the works, joked.

Kidding aside, Joseff actually attributed the trend to brothers being disillusioned by corporate recruiting, as well as the intellectual side of many within the house.

Other brothers credited the trend to individual characteristics.

“We’re just an adventurous group,” Gabe Stauber ’15 said. “I mean, there’s nothing more to say. We’re a very talented bunch, we’re ambitious, we’ve got great

’16 Girl: I think he thinks I’m a B+ student because I use my phone in class. Fair.

Blitz overheards to mirror@ thedartmouth. com.

Courtesy of Rauner Special Collections Library

values. Just great all-around guys. We’re really looking to improve ourselves.”

Stauber co-founded both Squeaky Cleaners, which cleans student dorm rooms, and Alpha Dinners, a catering service.

AD member Grant Mortell ’16 agreed, saying brothers aim to get involved on campus and commit to making their ideas come to life.

The sheer volume of AD businesses has generated an environment of inventiveness within the house.

Jung is currently working on a startup with Bryan Crampton ’17 and Mike Urbach ’14, a fellow AD member. The team is making a mobile app called Tether, which allows Dartmouth students to connect more easily across dining halls and social spaces. Urbach and Jung have worked on the idea for over a year, and Crampton recently joined to develop the iOS app, do all the tech support.

Jung said that Tether was “born out of an observation,” as he noticed students often had to guess where to go for food and social events. Tether helps “crowdsource” information so that students can learn about a location’s atmosphere — be it a dining hall or a fraternity basement — before arriving. For instance, instead of texting friends about the lines at Collis, students could learn from Tether users that there was no chance of grabbing pasta that night.

With four months until graduation, Jung and Urbach are working against the clock.

“If it’s successful, then we would like to pursue it further, but if it’s not successful, then we’ve learned a lot working through it,” Jung said. “Either way, it’s a win-win for us. Both of us would really like to pursue it as far as we can.”

Another recent start-up is Joseff’s People and Stuff, a website he is forming with Peter Loomis ’17 to simplify two processes: buying and selling used goods and buying from local merchants. The website is also “game-ified,” so people can earn points from their interactions, Joseff said.

“A lot of environmentalists will say,

Editor-in-Chief of The D: I always look at people’s formal pictures and wonder if they’re going to get married.

Geography professor: A lot of my moral education came from “Star Trek.”

‘This is an outrage, the amount that Americans consume,’” he said. “The idea is not to get rid of consumerism, but to modify it so that it’s more sustainable and less impactful.”

Graduation is also on the horizon for Joseff, who plans to pursue People and Stuff for at least six months after leaving Dartmouth to see where it goes.

The startup is currently tailored to Dartmouth, featuring a sweeping panorama of campus as its homepage, but Joseff hopes that it will eventually expand nationally.

Other AD brothers have taken up startups in a less serious way. Stauber, for instance, said he got involved with his student businesses, for which he cooks and cleans, to make some extra cash.

“It was just a good way to make money,” Stauber said. “Ever y college student needs money.”

A better-known student startup is DartDorm, which has been renting futons to students since 2006 and has had a waitlist every term. A group of seven sophomores and one freshman currently runs the company, which was started by members of the Class of 2011. Though two of the sophomores are AD brothers, they were unaffiliated when they initially signed on, and the other owners are unaffiliated or affiliated elsewhere, Mortell said.

DartDorm’s owners are expanding their collection and have already increased their stock by 30 percent since last spring.

Perhaps AD is more than meets the eye (or nose). To be quite honest, we could all learn a lesson from their initiative and willingness to improve campus.

Jung advised entrepreneurs not to be “afraid to go for it,” adding that students should take advantage of on campus resources, such as the Dartmouth Entrepreneurial Society, of which he is a member.

“You’re getting really invaluable experience by pursuing an idea, learning how to work through it, problem solving,” Jung said. “Either you’ll find success through it, or you’ll learn really valuable skills and learn about yourself in the process.”

’16 Guy outside a North Fay bathroom: Bro, are you pooping?

’17 Guy: Turning in computer science assignments is better than sex for me.

’17 Guy: Is Sigma Delt a fraternity or a sorority?

MIRROR //3

THE MIRROR ASKS:

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO ABOUT SPRING? I’m excited for the gym to reopen. It’s been closed all winter ... hasn’t it?

— Amanda Winch ’16 My feet not being wet all the time.

— Marina Shkuratov ’15, Mirror Editor I took a class on trees in the fall, and I’m really excited to see the spring trees. We learned about those a lot.

— Victoria Nelsen ’17 My family just got a new puppy and I can’t wait to meet him. Plus, the sun in Los Angeles.

— Erin Landau ’15, Mirror Editor Finally getting some non-happy-lamp Vitamin D in my system. Oh, and Pigstick.

— Aditi Kirtikar ’15, Dartbeat Editor

@ Dartmouth FORMALS GOV 10 SURVEYS

Check your inbox, someone needs your help.

THE OSCARS The Oscars are coming up this Sunday, which means it’s time to forget about your homework and focus on what really matters — Meryl Streep and her eternal perfection.

“FREEDOM BUDGET”

I am excited to discover the bumping gay scene in Buenos Aires.

— Luke McCann ’16 I’m excited to have more DBA, because right now I’m at $59.21, which definitely won’t make it through finals.

— Taylor Malmsheimer ’15, Day Managing Editor I’m excited to sit on the banks of the Seine and write the next great American novel.

— Mary Liza Hartong ’16

I am looking forward to taking another class with the man, the myth and the legend: Erich Osterberg.

— Michael Riordan ’15, Executive Editor

TRENDING

People dressing differently.

In the winter, everyone just wears black coats and boots all the time.

— Jake Bayer ’16 KELLEY LIN //THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

On Monday morning, Dartmouth students released a document with a series of demands for better addressing the inequalities that they allege exist at Dartmouth.

Now, it’s time to buckle down and wait for Hanlon’s response.

DBA CRUNCH TIME We don’t know too many people who are in the DBA sweet spot right now. You’re either drowning in dough or eating the free Saltines in Collis and begging friends for a swipe.

COURSE SELECTION CONFUSION

What happened, Registrar? Everyone’s dazed, confused and desperate for a TMV.

STRESS

4// MIRROR

Dartmouth: Th

By HAYLEY

The sur vey was simple, comprised of only five questions: Gender? Class year? Are you affiliated or unaffiliated? Would you send your son to Dartmouth? Would you send your daughter? Most respondents took less than a minute to answer. When asked to elaborate on the questions, however, I got more variety than the sur vey could ever provide.

“Definitely,” Matt Ginsberg ’16 said.

And the child’s gender wouldn’t change his decision. Dartmouth’s open community, he said, can provide an inclusive environment for both men and women.

“I think that people, whether you’re male or female, are able to interact and, in general, feel comfortable,” he said.

Dartmouth has many offerings that set it The Mirror surveyed 481 Dartmouth students about whether they would send their children to Dartmouth. Respondents included 184 people who identified as male, 293 people who identified as female and four people who opted to self-report their gender. The results reflect responses from 93 members of the Class of 2017, 123 members of the Class of 2016, 136 members of the Class of 2015 and 129 members of the Class of 2014. 282 people answered that they were current members of a campus Greek organization, and 192 answered that they were not.

apar t from other schools, Dammy Adeoti ’16 said, citing the D-Plan and Dar tmouth’s strong alumni community, a useful tool for networking. He also noted that Hanover’s outdoor activities, like pond hockey, skiing or just hanging out by the river, make Dartmouth a special opportunity for all those who matriculate.

Others, however, are not as sure. Raveena Gupta ’16, a student who transferred to Dartmouth from Duke University, said that though she has learned from her experiences at Dartmouth, she does not consider it the right fit for ever yone.

“I think that Dartmouth has a leg up over other schools in certain areas, but also requires a certain type of individual to totally thrive here,” she said.

Those who enjoy Dartmouth’s location, winter sports and the social scene’s emphasis on Greek life are likely best suited to attend the College, she said. She also said that there is an indescribable feeling of belonging that only some students feel and many feel uncomfortable admitting that they lack.

“I think there is a huge stigma with saying that Dartmouth isn’t your ideal school or wasn’t your first choice if you go here,” she said. “I am, however, fine to admit that it was never and still is not my top choice, because even though I have grown to love it here, there are some schools where I feel that the social and academic atmospheres are better suited to my interests.”

Another sentiment common to those inter viewed was that certain factors about

their future family and issues of campus climate would play a role in the decision.

Lily Citrin ’17, for example, said that before sending her children here, she would like to see Dartmouth’s culture become one with no tolerance for sexual assault, with an expectation that it will never occur on campus.

Right now, she said, sexual assault is prevalent enough that students are not surprised when they hear it happens.

“I wouldn’t want to send my daughter into a culture where that is expected,” Citrin said.

Ginsberg also mentioned sexual harass-

ment and assault at t believes that the pr are difficult issues fa Furthermore, he s response to recent commitment to com and fostering a safe ment that values its Citrin said she al to go to a school mo mouth. While she Dartmouth is diver students’ commitm be improved in prac “I think there is

he Next Generation

MIRROR //5

ADNOPOZ

the College, but said he roblems at Dartmouth aced by most colleges. said that Dartmouth’s t incidents reflects a mbating sexual violence and inclusive environs members. lso wants her children ore diverse than Darte acknowledged that rse in theor y, she said ment to diversity could ctice. quote-unquote diver-

sity, but I feel like people who are ver y different aren’t really in the same social circles,” she said. “By virtue of that, I think Dartmouth is less diverse than it should be, based on figures. It’s easy to not have a ver y diverse experience where you’re not forced to really connect with people that are really different from you.”

Though she has made an active effort to interact with people from diverse backgrounds while at the College, Citrin said it would have been easy to avoid doing so if she were not committed to it.

Valerie Zhao ’15 said she would let her children go to Dartmouth if they were

passionate about it, but would like to see gender. I inter viewed people who would the College make significant changes to be content with sending their children, its support systems in the meantime. provided that a given aspect of the College “I think Dartmouth has a strong sense had changed. I did not, however, speak with of community, but I wish it were more of those who gave a strict and definitive no a home for its students,” she said. “I’d like to sending their children here under any to see Dartmouth become more supportive circumstances. of all students, possibly through changes This is not to say that there are no inin residential life or the dividuals on this campus D-Plan, or better access feel that way. There “I think there is quote- who to academic and emotional are. In fact, 17 percent of unquote diversity, support.” students who responded Jenni Gargano ’14 also but I feel like people to The Mirror’s sur vey said that she would never that they probwho are very different answered prohibit her children, ably or definitely would should she ever have aren’t really in the not send their daughters them, from coming to same social circles.” to Dar tmouth. Four teen Dartmouth if they were percent said the same for interested. She said she their sons. hopes she would raise her - LILY CITRIN ’17 Yet my conversations children with the values show that so many of us and morals necessar y care about this school and to confront the “pockets of apathy” that want to see it realize its full potential. sometimes exist at Dartmouth when critiThis potential can mean different things cally engaging with campus issues. to different people, which is why dialogue If her hypothetical children choose about it can grow tense. to attend Dartmouth, Gargano said she As I wandered First Floor Berr y, notewould like to see several aspects of campus book in hand, I knew that there wouldn’t be changed beforehand. More faculty of color a clear answer. It might be nice to live in a on the tenure track, greater resources world where ever y student dreams of seededicated toward closing the achievement ing his or her child attend this Dartmouth, gap between white students and students but it’s equally important to understand of color and a zero-tolerance policy for rape that this doesn’t hold true for ever yone convictions would move Dartmouth in a and that we have so many opportunities positive direction, she said. to improve this school. This campus is I inter viewed people on my floor who made up of countless opinions, and that had no qualms about sending their children will probably continue to hold true — even to Dartmouth and those who said their when our children fly up to the Lodj in decisions would var y based on a child’s their Dartmouth-themed jetpacks.

JIN SHIN // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

6// MIRROR

RED

By BILL LANE

Down the Rabbit Hole is a new section of The Mirror that showcases student work from across campus. Submissions of all genres are welcome — please send works of 3,000 words or fewer to mirror@ thedartmouth.com.

The following is a work of fiction, and contains images and content that may trigger survivors of violence or sexual assault.

Truth is not the repetition of a lie.

At least, that’s what you’re told.

You stand waiting for the line to move, but it won’t. It never does.

You don’t want to be in the line at all. There’s no gratification once you reach the Satiation Point.

Satiation and Happiness Initiative Two was supposed to be the model of efficiency. They still insist it is. And you believe them, because you’re told to. But a little voice in your head can’t help but feel like waiting in line for two hours to get Satiated is no more efficient than waiting in line for an hour at Initiative One and spending 30 minutes eating. Plus, back then, you got to taste the food. You miss that. They say that it wasn’t good. That taste was an unnecessary, everyday torture. And they made the food especially bad for months before they installed everyone’s Satiation Spots and finished setting up Initiative Two. For most people, it came as a relief.

They thanked them for this new technology. But you were a little too old for that trick. You remembered, or thought you did. You could never really tell.

If your memory serves you correctly, before Initiative One, there used to be places you could eat where you would sit down, and they would bring you bread while you waited for food that you actually craved. But they said those never existed. And no one else remembers them. Perhaps they were just one of your dreams.

You always hated dreams. They only served to scare or disappoint. At least you haven’t had The Red Dream in a while. You shudder at the thought but cannot repress the memory.

You’re hiding under a bed, and men with heavy boots come in. A person whose voice you love but can no longer place lets out a scream.

“Just me, please just me. My kid is so young. My darling can be Saved.

My child won’t remember any of this.

My baby won’t remember me.”

KELLEY LIN // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

A pause. An incomprehensible mutter. A blast. A face you know to love. And Red, so much Red. It always seems so real. Like it really happened. But they say no. You grew up in a Development Home like everyone else. They’d get mad when you tried to talk about that woman in your dreams. They would make you do 1,000 Truth is Not repetitions every time you mentioned her name.

What was it? Mon? Something like that. You probably shouldn’t bother to remember. She only brought you pain. And you made her up anyway.

The line has moved forward a little bit. You ask the boy in front of you what day it is. It’s hard to tell the days apart. They just blur. Thursday.

Damn. You always hated Happiness days. It makes you feel so violated.

Being hooked up like that.

Most people love it. Revel in the cheap joy. But it just reminds you of Sam. You try to repress that thought, too. But you can’t, you never can. They always hated that about you.

You remember that day. You and Sam were best friends at the Development Home. You were the two oldest kids. Sam was even older than you.

Both of you had dreams. No one else did, or at least they didn’t mention them. The day before you two were going to take the Life Placement test, Sam took your hand under the lunch table. Hand-holding was strictly forbidden. A 10,000 Truth is Not offense.

You looked around nervously, but the soft, warm grip tightened, telling you to stop. Sam got up and walked toward the Young Developees room. You knew to follow. Sam opened the door quietly. It was naptime. You stepped in, and the door closed behind you, enveloping you in darkness. Loving hands slipped under your clothing.

Sam led you through it all. You hardly knew what was going on, but you had never felt so close to anyone.

You somehow managed not to wake up any of the children, and Sam left to clean up in the bathroom.

You walked out of the room a minute later, still in a bit of a beautiful daze, but you were knocked out of it quickly when out of the corner of your eye you recognized the Head Developer walk into the bathroom.

You can still hear the screams.

The next few days they interviewed everyone, trying to figure out the co-conspirator. They suspected you, but you were a good liar. You never

saw Sam again.

Happiness days were supposed to achieve the same purpose. But that was a lie. Sure, it felt wonderful — they put the best engineers in the Society on the Happiness Development Team.

You were one of them before you got kicked off for “Anti-Societal Behavior.”

You were testing the first prototype. No one really knew how it would feel. You were last. Everyone else got off exhausted, dazed and ecstatic with this newfound pleasure. It was your turn. As it was hooked up to you, the cold of the metal made you uncomfortable. Then it began. You were thrown back to that day in the dark with Sam. Except this was very wrong. It wasn’t being gentle. It was too much. Too fast.

You screamed in terror and loss.

It was a violation, you insisted.

Sometimes people won’t want it. It would be torture. Just an empty pleasure. There was no emotion in it. They wouldn’t listen. Heresy, they said. And they were right, they always are, but you couldn’t hold your tongue. You knew what it could be. No one else did. And you could never explain it: you’d be Removed.

They loved talking to you about Removal. Ever since you were a child.

As early as you can remember at the Development Home. How it meant fear and emptiness and nothingness.

Never being Satisfied again. It was funny, though. The more they talked about it, the less bad it seemed. Recently, you’d been tempted.

The line is moving faster now.

There is a group of adolescents in front of you. Always easier: smaller stomachs to Satiate and laughably quick Happiness. You pity them. This is all they’ll know. They’ll never know the touch of a warm hand or the taste of bread and butter. You become saddened at the thought.

Perhaps they should pity you.

They’re becoming more and more similar — the kids. The Societal Uniformity Program is working. You miss redheads. Sam had red hair. Blondes will be next. There are only two in the group ahead of you. Both are beautiful.

You sigh, wondering if these kids understand beauty. It’s prohibited to talk about. You’d be Removed if you uttered the word. It was a poison. You doubt many people even know that anymore. So few Developed Generation Ones are left, and the Developers are long gone. Maybe you could call

someone beautiful, and no one would be the wiser. You stifle the thought.

It’s your turn now. The Provider hooks up automatically. A long clear tube guided by a metal snake attaches to the Satiation Point on your abdomen. You feel the sensation of your stomach filling from the inside, and it displeases you, as always. The colds straps of the Happiness portion of the machine wrap around your legs and waist. It begins. You resist. You always do, but it’s no use. Your mind is no match for a machine so perfect.

The flashback starts. You can usually repress them, but not today.

You’re in the Young Developees room with Sam. You ask, “How? How do you know how to do this?”

Sam pauses, “My parents.”

The word slaps you across the face.

You remember two figures dancing with you in the sunlight. Smiles all around. Then the man disappears into darkness, the female bursts into red.

You are scared. Sam is holding you.

You are shivering.

“They taught me a lot the day before the men came and brought me here. Made me memorize it. Repeat everything back to them, so I’d never forget. Sex. Logic. Love.” The words were familiar, but felt dangerous. Like they had been repressed out of fear.

Sam continues, “I didn’t understand most of it, but I committed it to memory and no amount of Truth is Nots will ever take it away from me.”

You nod.

“When I met you, I began to understand. And I knew I had to do this if we were ever to have hope. I’ll teach you everything I memorized, but we need to continue what we were doing now. Is that okay?” You nod and the bliss starts up again.

Next thing you know, the Head Developer is walking into the bathroom. But this time, you can’t help but scream out, “SAM!” ~~~ You awake to find yourself locked to a table in a brightly lit room with dark walls. A Satiation-Only Provider is hooked up to you. A woman walks in. She’s tall, pretty, with light brown skin, brown eyes and brown hair. A perfect product of the Uniformity Project, you think.

“So tell me about Sam.” “Who?” You respond, still disoriented.

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I went to school with Sam.” “And what was the nature of your relationship?”

“Friendship.”

“Nothing more?”

“No.” “You are lying.”

“I know not to lie, ma’am.”

She taps her pin on her clipboard.

She flips through a few pages and looks genuinely intrigued. “This wasn’t The Sam? Right? Sam Haverford?”

“What are you talking about? ‘The Sam?’” “It’s a special case we learn about in training...” She cuts off. Training is a forbidden subject.

You answer her earlier question while she tries to think of a cover-up for her slip.

“Only first names were used in Generation One. Who is Sam Haver-

ford?”

“Forget it.”

“Okay.” You know not to argue.

She looks back at her clipboard.

Papers nearly overflow off it. “You’ve quite the file.”

“A product of my age.”

“One of the oldest in Generation One. The first to Experience the Society without knowing the horrors of Before. You paved the way for us.”

You’ve heard this falsely admiring shtick before, “That’s what they tell me.”

“Why did you scream Sam’s name when you were hooked up to the Provider?”

“I wasn’t aware that I did.”

“It says here that a similar incident occurred when you were working on the device in your time with the Happiness Development Team. Can you tell me about it?”

“I would rather not. It was a time when I failed to be a Developed Member of the Society.” After the incident, you were told that this was the case.

Over and over again. You believed it to be true, too, for a while.

“Did you and Sam ever engage in... irregular behavior?”

The darkness of the Young Developees room comes to mind.

“No.” “I don’t believe you are telling the truth.”

“I am.”

There is a long pause. She presses a button on the wall, releasing you from the Provider.

“It is no longer often that this punishment is given, especially to Developed Members, but according to your file, it has received superb Development results, so ten thousand Truth is Nots.” She hands you a pack of chalk and points to the back wall.

“I’ll be back when you’re done.”

You begin to write.

(1) Truth is not the repetition of a lie. (2) Truth is not the repetition of a lie. (3) Truth is...

The sound of chalk against the wall is oddly soothing. You are reminded of your first day with Sam. You are both writing furiously on chalkboards, repeating that phrase over and over again. You have never seen Sam before, and keep stealing glances. Suddenly, Sam starts laughing. Uncontrollably. You ask what’s the matter.

“Nothing! It’s just that I get it. I get what they’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it. Think. You’ll see.” Sam looks up at the board with a grin, and begins to write again, but stops short to look at you, smile and say, “I’m Sam, by the way.”

(9998) Truth is not the repetition of a lie. (9999) Truth is not the repetition of a lie. (10000) TRUTH IS not the repetition of A LIE. The woman comes back in and looks at the board. The last lines barely standing out over the thousands of hastily erased ones underneath. Her eyes narrow, she reaches into her waistband and brandishes a gun. She sighs and calmly announces, “It’s time for your Removal.”

You fall to the ground. You feel strangely wrapped in warmth. You smile as you watch the Red surround you as you fall into darkness.

MIRROR //7

COLUMN

WHAT HAVE WE DONE? IN CASE

By SEANIE CIVALE and AMANDA SMITH YOU WERE WONDERING

COLUMN

By

KATIE SINCLAIR There’s something about dealing with big things that makes us catastrophize the little ones. Looking into the mysterious labyrinth of our futures, we manage to stay calm by directing our sweat at the small stuff instead. Many selfhelp books would call this tactic counterintuitive and deeply flawed, but, as Fernando Pessoa once said: “In order to understand, I destroyed myself.”

Seanie: I just typed “Amanda” before my part of the column and realized that I am not Amanda, but Seanie. At this point every term, I am prone to such basic errors. I become a crazy person due to all the built-up stress, realize I’ve barely taken a breath for eight weeks and feel a compelling urge to evacuate campus immediately.

The urge, though the result of a confluence of factors, is usually brought on by something trivial that in no way merits my fight-or-flight response. Last week, it was the swim test.

I have long feared the swim test, a roadblock that most complete with relative ease, due to a vague premonition that something would go wrong. I don’t know why I felt this way. I know how to swim and was even told that I have a “smooth backstroke” in a communal pool in the 7th grade. But the fear lingered until last Sunday when, after much goading, I decided to take the plunge, throw caution to the wind and swim the 50 yards that would bring me one step closer to a diploma.

As I approached the lifeguard, he turned to me with an appraising eye and seemed to instantly deem me a problem person. After assuring him several times that I am in fact able to swim and would not force him to save me, I stripped down to my swimsuit. Unable to locate any of my own, I had asked to borrow from friends and consequently found myself standing at the edge of the pool in the official Dartmouth swim team racing suit. The lifeguard asked me why I was wearing the official suit, and I said I did not know. I passed the test, got that congratulatory orange slip and was told to take it up to the PE office.

By the time I changed and reached the PE office, the orange slip was nowhere to be found.

I searched the locker room, begged the livid lifeguard for another slip, was told to get back in the pool, did not get back in the pool, paced in circles and finally left the gym and walked home, hair freezing, feet dragging, swim test passed yet nothing to show for it.

Faced with an impossible amount of homework, I catastrophized the incident into an indication of my universal incompetence. I called my brother in Maine and told him I was coming to visit ASAP. Amanda: There came a point in my life when I had to confront the fact that my car had been

dead for seven weeks and that if I waited any longer, it would cease to be a car and become a miniature snow mountain. That point was a couple of days ago. A part of me was inclined to let it happen, and just wait until week seven or so of spring term when the sun would finally come out for good and my mountain would melt back into a car. But I knew my mother would have a conniption if she ever found out, so I decided to suck it up and dig.

I knew I looked ridiculous as I stood there scooping. I used the lid of a plastic storage container as a shovel. Normally I would’ve called it quits, knowing that I was not properly equipped to complete my task. But I was determined, so I continued to look ridiculous as I dug and scooped.

Within a few minutes, a very kind construction worker emerged and offered me a shovel, a broom and some help. I paused for a moment to consider his offer before telling him, “Thank you, but no thank you.” I had gotten myself into that mess, and it was on me to get myself out.

So I went back to my work, and he went back to his.

Within a few more minutes, my back hurt, and my forehead glistened with sweat, but the mound was slowly starting to look like a car again.

Soon enough, a different construction worker appeared, this time just to ask if I was having fun yet. I told him I was, but that the fun was only halfway through. Though the car was now in view, it was still dead. Incredibly and unbelievably dead. But thanks to him, that was about to change.

My car was resurrected 20 minutes later.

I thanked every construction worker in sight about 10 times each and promised to heed their advice and keep the car running for half an hour to let the battery charge. I let it run for 40 full minutes, just to be safe.

Later that same day, I eagerly accepted my friend’s invitation to ice skate on Occom and gleefully offered to drive. I opened the door and hopped in, full of joy and ready for anything.

Except it turns out that I actually wasn’t. The car had died again. Even now, I’m still pretty bitter and not ready to handle it.

Now that we have told you two more seemingly pointless but actually, um, super important stories, we leave you with this — sometimes bad moments, days and terms are just going to be bad.

But other times, you will take off your right boot at the end of a long day and find the congratulatory orange slip you’ve been missing inside. And you’ll remember to count the small victories, too.

Yours, Lucy & Ethel

In case you were wondering, the first Academy Awards ceremony was held on May 16, 1929. Some speculate that Rin Tin Tin, a German shepherd, received the most votes for best actor that year but could not win the award because the Academy decided it should be limited to humans.This is not a cool fact, minus the dog part, since anyone who can do basic math knows that if the 86th Academy Awards are being televised this weekend, the first ones would have occured in 1929.

Despite the long and overwrought ceremony, I’m a big fan of the Oscars. I like the pretty dresses, and I’m all for self-referential musical numbers. Plus, Ellen DeGeneres is hosting.There are three things I miss about not having a TV: the Olympics, Shark Week and the Oscars. Every other viewing experience can be more or less replicated on a computer.

On Oscar night in the Sinclair household, the broadcast plays in the background during dinner. The only occasions that allowed for TV at dinner time were the Oscars, figure skating and University of North Carolina football games. And I’m a sucker for pomp and circumstance. Give me a montage with uplifting music, and I’m hooked. Even though I don’t really go to the movies at Dartmouth, unless you count the critically acclaimed features that make it to the Hop three months after their release, I am still invested in the Oscar race.

I could give you my predictions, but The D’s arts and entertainment section is probably more equipped to handle that particular task. But I will give you my opinions. Sandra Bullock should win an Oscar for “Gravity” (2013), one of the most traumatizing movies I have ever seen, but she won’t. Likewise, I really don’t want Jennifer Lawrence to win Best Supporting Actress for “American Hustle” (2013), not because I don’t like Jennifer Lawrence, but because it seems that actresses are more likely to win awards for playing hysterical, crazy messes than for portraying fearless adventurers. I’m still annoyed that Lawrence won for “Silver Linings Playbook” (2012), beating Jessica Chastain for “Zero Dark Thirty” (2012), when Chastain played a conflicted, hardcore CIA agent and Lawrence just played herself with more sex and screaming.

Even though no one at Dartmouth has free time, we still seem to find the time to watch Netflix. I firmly believe that Dartmouth students are permanently bonded by their desire to procrastinate by watching TV and movies.

Though sleep deprived, we’re all magically caught up on “Sherlock,” “Downton Abbey,”

“Game of Thrones” and “Breaking Bad.” You can’t deny that we have excellent taste.

Some of my most memorable college experiences have involved watching movies with friends — falling asleep watching “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” (2012) the first day of junior spring, seeing “Brave” (2012) at the Nugget in the pouring rain during a sophomore summer thunderstorm, choosing to watch “Pulp Fiction” (1994) on a date — for some reason, I always watch incredibly violent, bloody movies on dates. Looking back, that was probably a sign that things wouldn’t work out.

If Dartmouth were an Oscar-winning movie, would it be a Woody Allen-esque exploration of the neuroses of upper-middle class college students who wittily banter with each other over a game of pong? Or would it be a bleak, Coen brothers-style film, with long, lingering shots of the desolate Hanover landscape? I have no idea how a Quentin Tarantino film set at Dartmouth would turn out, except a lot of people would end up murdered.

If Dartmouth were a movie, I would like to believe that I would be the main character. But in all honesty, I would probably be cast as the witty sidekick who pops up to say something funny every couple of scenes and then either dies or is written out of the film.

Movies set at colleges always perpetuate the same notion that all students drink a lot, get laid and quote Marcel Proust, while remaining impeccably well-coiffed. Makers of college movies have clearly never set foot in Baker at 9 p.m. on a Sunday, when everyone is a little worse for the wear.

If I made a movie at Dartmouth, I would emphasize that no one seems to wear real pants on the weekends, and everyone has bags under their eyes. For every wild and crazy party, hours are spent hunched over a computer writing papers. But who wants to watch a bunch of over-educated, poorly dressed adolescents write a paper, unless it were a trippy, stream of consciousness affair like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” (2004)?

We like movies and TV so much because they aren’t true. When else can you imagine yourself as an astronaut and then realize that being an astronaut is a terrifying prospect? Seriously, “Gravity” really freaked me out. When else can we pretend to be kings and queens, planning our own political schemes? And yes, I know this has turned into a “Power of Movies” montage, but I’m okay with that. So this weekend, let’s all open the champagne, turn on the Oscars and make snarky comments about what everyone’s wearing.

8 // MIRROR

ONCE UPON A TIMER

By MARY LIZA HARTONG What would your mother do if she could see you like this? Sitting there, hunched over a computer, eyes glazed over, one hand elbow-deep in a jumbo bag of Doritos, scrolling through Facebook like a lazy baboon in a Dartmouth shirt? I often wonder this on Sundays, as I half-heartedly flip through poetr y anthologies in hopes of finding a decipherable Plath poem to prove I accomplished some work that weekend.

If the average human spends one third of life asleep, how much of our lives do we spend on Facebook, Pinterest and even blitz?

Like most Dartmouth students and humans under the age of 75, the prospect of knowing exactly how much time I spend on Facebook and other time-wasting websites strikes fear into my heart. It’s one of those statistics you just don’t want to hear, like how many calories are in a Stouffer’s “family size” lasagna or how many sex partners your grandmother has had in her lifetime.

However, with a few reassuring words from my editors, I decided to face my fear and download Web Timer, an app that tracks how much time you spend on individual websites each day on average and for however long you’re brave enough to use it. The app places a little red timer in the corner of your window and there it sits, nestled next to the search bar like a happy ladybug.

While seemingly benign, this little devil quickly becomes your worst enemy.

When you’re wasting time, you know exactly how long you’ve been avoiding work. When you’re working on a project, you figure out just how slowly you read.

I went into the task thinking, “Act

Blackboard Free-TV-Online Blitz/Email Facebook 9gag Etsy Hulu YouTube Other

natural.” I wouldn’t completely avoid my time-wasting sites, but I also wouldn’t Google anything obscene. Not that I do that. Ever. (Not even when I detect a rash on my neck and want to know if anyone else has ever had that same rash — and OH GOD, that’s disturbing. Is that even a neck? Never mind, I’ll let it heal on its own.)

I spent most of the first day on Blackboard, tr ying to read a play for class.

“Oh no!” I worried, “They’re going to think I’m super boring and all I do is read discussion posts and check the syllabus like some kind of loser.”

Between furrowing my brow and scrolling down, I began to realize just how long it was taking me to read the play.

“You done yet?” the red timer seemed to ask me every five minutes.

Paranoid, I pulled up some Word documents for a bit and checked my phone.

Ah, my phone. The perfect loophole. I could Snapchat to my heart’s desire without being reminded of my lazy ways. Did I feel severely judged by my fellow stacks studiers?

Why, yes. Yes, I did. I’m sure they watched with wonder and concern as I checked blitz, closed it quickly, walked around, grabbed a book, came back, checked Blackboard, closed my computer, took out my phone, opened my computer and checked Friendsy with a speed rivaled only by some sort of hungr y cheetah sprinting for its dinner.

My readers, I thought, cannot know that actually I check my Friendsy. And if they do find out, Time Spent (Over 6 days) they should rest assured that I only do so to read through the hilarious 2 hours 11 minutes murmurs about my friends. The 1 hour 11 minutes ridiculous pick-up lines are always good for a few laughs. Of course, I’m 1 hour 6 minutes not hoping any of my matches will 41 minutes randomly flitz me. Of course not.

On my second day of web timing, 35 minutes I decided to relax. Who really cares what I do on the Internet? Other 28 minutes people do way grosser and nerdier 24 minutes things than online shop and cruise the Craigslist missed connections 24 minutes column. I had a paper due the next 2 hours 18 minutes day, so naturally I spent much more time online than usual. Nothing 9 hours 28 minutes brings out your interest in exotic

24%

4% 4% 5% 6%

Website!

Blackboard Free-TV-Online Blitz/Email Facebook 9gag Etsy Hulu YouTube Other Total

24%

13%

7% 12%

dog breeds and trapeze videos like tr ying to analyze a Gertrude Stein poem.

Again, I felt the stack-ites judging me as I sat in my chair and giggled at the adorable teacup Pomeranians and their even more adorable hand-knit booties.

After a day of neglect, I had to touch base with all of my time-wasting sites.

Oh hello, eBay! Twitter, how I’ve missed you!

As the days went on, I began to forget about the app. I went about my usual shenanigans, from rash researching to puppy perusing without worr ying what my readers or my mother would think.

Now, six days since launching the app, it is time to sit down and face the music, or rather, the Facebook.

In six days, I have spent nine hours and 28 minutes online, about an hour and 34 minutes each day. How much of that was productive, you may ask. I spent 24 percent of my time on Blackboard and 13 percent on blitz, so I can deduce that only 37 percent of my time was spent on actual schoolwork. In less than a week, I dedicated six hours and 11 minutes to goofing off online. This is appalling to me. Like ever yone else on campus, I often complain about not having enough time, but as it turns out, I have an extra six hours lying around ever y week that I completely waste. Six hours! That’s a full night of sleep for some people, time I could have used to read multiple books, volunteer, clean my room, call my parents, nap or get ahead on work.

Despite how disgusted I am with myself, I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed those hours. How could I regret my time catching up on my favorite shows and browsing eBay when these activities helped me to de-stress after a long day of work and classes? With so much pressure to be smart, it’s nice to turn off my brain and zone out ever y once in a while. I guess I’ve learned to find a balance. Maybe I’ll tr y to shave 10 minutes of my Internet usage a day until I study more than I zone out. But hey, those BuzzFeed ar ticles aren’t going to read themselves.

ARMIN MAHBANOOZADEH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF