Hi Jerry (can I call you Jerry?),

College student here.

You’ve been taking a lot of heat recently and I’d like add a dose of sanity to this conversation if that’s alright with you.

In The Huffington Post’s College Blog, Anthony Berteaux wrote a letter to you whose primary achievement was to prove your point about students, albeit inadvertently.

But before I get to him, a story. Today I was sitting in the hallway of my school’s lab sciences building waiting for a professor and talking with a friend of mine, and your name came up. A complete stranger, maybe a year older than myself, walked past us and interjected with a theatrical attitude that could only have been carefully rehearsed for such an occasion. He said something to the effect of “Oh, are you guys talking about that article where Jerry Seinfeld is bitter? That he’s a washed up has-been and is blaming the fact that no one thinks he’s funny anymore on college students?” Followed by, and I swear this is true, a “humph” and a judgmental eyebrow slant before he went into another room.

Incidentally, my friend and I were talking about “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.”

Jerry, I think you’re hilarious. Not only do I think you’re one of the absolute funniest comedians in the history of television and stand up, but the Seinfeldian style of observational comedy has permeated my everyday life. It enriches even the most soul-crushing and mundane of life activities. You not only make me laugh, you’ve actually made my life better.

I would also like to point out that I too am a liberal college student who cares about intercultural dialogue and LGBT activism and all that buzzword jazz; I’ve devoted an enormous amount of my time on campus to these ideas. I just also bother to think before I become offended.

I have been to a standup show at my university and your comment on how irrationally politically correct my generation can be is spot-on.

There were three acts that night: a student (who was phenomenal), Kurt Braunohler and Eugene Mirman. Braunohler told heavy-handed audience pandering jokes about social media and jerking off into a McDonald’s applepie as a child. He was an absolute hit and frankly I could have napped through it. Mirman, however, told some very well-crafted, genuinely laugh-out-loud funny and whimsical jokes about a child with Asperger’s — which, as you may have already guessed, fell so hard they may have actually made a sound as they hit the stage floor. Everyone was all in a huff because, situationally, both a joke and autism were in the same room. What is important here is that he didn’t say anything even remotely mean about people with autism, but the very fact that his joke featured it was too much for my peers and the politcally correct defense mechanism was in full swing.

So I don’t blame you for not playing college campus shows. And more importantly, I am not even slightly bothered that you said this on a radio program because, you know, this is America damn it! Please, please do not apologize for saying a perfectly reasonable thing, in a perfectly reasonably way in a perfectly reasonable setting.

But I must get back to Berteaux. For reasons I may not ever fully understand, my generation is under the impression that publicly complaining about things that are neither a problem in our society nor under any democratic influence, is somehow social justice. We (and I hate to include myself, but I must by definition) all seem to be under the impression that everything is for us.

If this Berteaux kid wants comedy that “spurs social dialogue about [topics of race and gender politics]” then he’s free to go and find it in the unicorn comedians of his imagination. But to so aggressively assert that this is the new standard in comedy and nothing else will do is audaciously arrogant coming from someone not even old enough to get into most standup clubs, let alone to be directed at one of the greatest comedians of all time. I’m not really sure where he penciled into the rule book while no one was looking that “sexist humor and racist humor can no longer exist” but I’m pretty damn sure that they can and will, whether he wants them to or not.

So for what it’s worth Jerry, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my fellow reasonable college students for all the loud-mouthed unintelligent crap that has been directed at you the past few days. You’re still the bee’s knees in my eyes and I’ll see you after graduation.

Most sincerely,

Sage Magee

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“Sorry, I’m seeing someone.” The number of times I have had to use this line is more than I care to admit. The reason I dislike this line is because often times, it isn’t true and I dislike lying. But what really bothers me about it is that sometimes, it seems like it’s my only choice.

Most people will know what I am talking about, and if you don’t, then you are quite lucky. I am talking about those nights when you’re walking down the street by yourself and someone approaches you. They usually offer some sort of compliment and then ask for your number or whether you want to join them for a drink.

Now, there is a minority of people who do this and will perfectly accept a flat-out no. I want to acknowledge this because I think their acceptance should be encouraged. You say no, you both tell each other to have a nice night. You both recognize that neither of you have any malicious intentions and everyone goes home feeling okay.

But then there are the rest. These are the people, who won’t take ‘no’ without a fight. They wheedle, they talk themselves up, they make you feel terrible for turning them down and after the exchange everyone goes home feeling terrible. The easiest way to avoid this is one magic phrase: “Sorry, I’m seeing someone.” And this is just wrong.

It discounts your personal feelings. It no longer becomes a question of whether or not you’re interested, but a matter of you being already taken. People are not property. And the idea that the only reason why someone would not continue to bother me is because I am already “taken” is sickening because this idea fosters the notion that the stranger has more respect for my partner than they do me, the person they are allegedly interested in.

What also makes “Sorry, I’m seeing someone” such a terrible excuse is the apology. It’s as though I feel bad that I am not available for that person. In the rare case that I am seeing someone, I shouldn’t have to feel the need to apologize for it. There are times where I know that if I don’t apologize, things might turn sour.

Dating and finding the right person is hard enough, but your chances are not going to improve if you are not considerate of the other person enough to accept their rejection. By gracefully doing so, phrases like “Sorry, I’m seeing someone” will become obsolete and we can begin have more honest dialogues with one another where no one feels threatened or disrespected. So the next time you approach that cutie, be prepared for them to say no. If they say yes, that’s wonderful! If not, don’t get defensive. It’s probably nothing personal, but a forced yes is not a way to start a relationship.

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This week the world discovered that Bill Cosby had obtained drugs called Quaaludes, a popular ‘70’s and ‘80’s sleep aid pill, intending to use to rape women. This information was disclosed by 2005 deposition transcript for a sexual assault accusation. We use the term “discovered” because many people did not take the accusations seriously when close to 40 women stepped up to accuse him of sexual assault. We use the term rape because it still isn’t taken seriously now.

Rape is an incredibly sensitive and painful topic. It affects people from all walks of life and all levels, admittedly some groups more than others. As a famous TV father figure, Dr. Huxtable, “Fat Albert” creator and a household name, Cosby’s accusation is no exception to the expectation of controversy that the term rape comes with. So touchy is the topic, the term and the accusation that even with Cosby’s literal admission of purchasing a drug that incapacitates people, news organizations seemingly continue to hop around the possibility that he did anything wrong. Time magazine went as far as finding a legal defense expert to claim that women could’ve taken the narcotic with consent (not just one person, multiple). They softly entitled the article, “Why Bill Cosby Admitted Under Oath to Getting Drugs to Have Sex With Women.” “Sex” in this case is a soft euphemism for “sexual assault” or “rape.”

Are drugs used to sexually take advantage of unconscious people not strictly used in the context of nonconsensual sexual relations, also known as rape?

When the accused is a beloved sitcom actor, it’s not! But hey, if we want to continue acting like there’s any world where multiple women who would later accuse Cosby of sexual assault had originally used quaaludes under consent — oh who are we kidding? What the hell! This is not okay. Stop.

Luckily, not every organization like Time or Temple University (recall how the institution protected board member Cosby in a sexual misconduct case brought by one of its own employees) are falling in line with this level of bull. Disney in particular did children everywhere a favor when they took down his statue from its Hollywood studios. We remember when University of Massachusetts Amherst cut ties with Bill Cosby when the accusations first came out. While that was controversial then, there is certainly little excuse for other institutions to stay silent now.
That’s good. Some organizations are learning. Others are not. But we should stop pussyfooting around the idea of Cosby’s sexual misconduct in the news, especially at this point — it is bizarre to think that a good entertainment career can change facts about sexual assault.

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The list of presidential candidates has been out for quite some time now and it seems like our choices this time around are just not the greatest. Two of the four candidates from the main parties are just more of the same. Bernie Sanders seems promising among young voters but many are complaining that his progressive ways are too forward for him to ever be a serious candidate. And then, there’s Donald Trump.

Now, I can understand why many of the other candidates have chosen to run. Each candidate has a platform of issues that are important to them, as well as years of political experience. And then, there’s Donald Trump.

The tagline of his campaign is “Make America Great Again!” which is a novel idea. But how he is planning to make it great again, he has yet to say. His main idea for fixing the country is to run it like a business. This is terrifying in and of itself, but coupled with the fact that Trump has filed bankruptcy four times, his business model does not seem like it will “Make America Great Again!” Granted, according to an article by Forbes, Trump was not solely responsible for his businesses going bankrupt. But once they have gone bankrupt, Trump shows less interest in them. Basically, when things start to go belly up, he bails ship. Is this really the person we want running our country?

Most people would say no, and here’s why: in his speech announcing his candidacy, he made a comment that Mexicans are “bringing drugs, they’re bringing crime, they’re rapists.” According to a report made by the Department of Homeland Security in 2009, there are roughly 6.65 million illegal immigrants from Mexico. Comparing this to the total U.S. population of 318.9 million people, that is only about two percent of the population. Even if what he said were true (which it’s absolutely not), two percent of the population is definitely not significant enough to be the cause of America reverting to a “third world country.” Blaming ethnic minorities for the problems in a country hardly ever works out for said country.

Trump has also expressed dislike at the fact that America outsources many of its jobs to China, but seems to fail to understand why America does this. In order to keep the costs of goods down, the costs to make them must be competitively low. Certain countries such as China, India and Bangladesh do not have labor laws, much less minimum wage laws. America outsources to them because it is cost effective. It’s how businesses are run nowadays because of the rampant capitalism/consumerism behaviour in our society. By all means, Trump, bring jobs back into the country and make sure people get adequately paid for them.

On the bright side, if Trump is elected, the American people still have the right to say, “You’re fired.”

The post More reasons Donald Trump should just not. appeared first on The Triangle.

Candy Chang, the fifth lecturer to speak during Drexel University’s College of Arts and Sciences Distinguished Lecture Series, propped up the first “Before I Die” wall on an abandoned building in 2011 with the intention of creating a public space where members of the New Orleans community could share their aspirations. By the next day, the chalkboard was full of neighbors’ dreams and reflections. Today, there are more than 500 “Before I Die” walls around the world.

The wall is iconic for its Instagram-worthiness, but lesser known is Chang’s first public art piece, “Sidewalk Psychiatry.” Her concept is simple: Chang selected a few introspective questions such as “Does she know how you feel?” and “Then why did you do it?” and stenciled them on the sidewalks of New York City.

In doing so, Chang presents the idea that public spaces need not be the opposite of privacy, as public space is property of the community and, by extension, the individual. Intentional design that encourages open creativity in public areas communicates to the individual that he has worth in his community and authority to contribute his own skillset and opinions, even in the overwhelming expanse of the world outside his private space.

Chang’s other public artwork includes community chalkboard walls in South Africa, educational brochures that communicate New York City street vendors’ legal rights with graphic design instead of jargon and “I Wish This Was” stickers pasted onto vacant buildings along with a Sharpie for passersby to share their thoughts for the space.

We need not wait on pieces from street artists like Chang to consider designing our public spaces intentionally. Without convenient and anonymous platforms for individuals to share their ideas, we may be missing out on the contributions of such ideas to our communities.

Steven Johnson, the author of “Where Good Ideas Come From,” described diverse communities that foster the exchange of ideas as

According to Johnson, such innovative environments flourish today not because the environment itself is smart but because the individuals who inhabit it get smarter simply by being there to add to its idea pool, whether directly or indirectly. The liquid network is dependent on the open exchange of ideas within communities regardless of whether these networks are based in workplaces, neighborhoods, religious organizations or other public spheres. Fortunately, the people that make up such communities are each endowed with influence in a multitude of such networks, leading to a virtually infinite amount of merged ideas.

A brief on arts and culture in public spaces released by the American Planning Association outlines four key points of urban planning, all of which emphasize that collective local culture is the determinant of a community’s future. In the context of urban planning, culture includes regional qualities such as history, landmarks, dialects, food culture, architecture, wildlife and so on.

The brief cites revival stories of down-and-out communities similar to the New Orleans neighborhood that housed the original “Before I Die” wall. By opting to design according strictly to a region’s rich heritage and cultural practices, urban planners have managed to bring neighborhoods once facing poverty resulting from industrialization to experiencing a revival of local culture through public art and events. By providing a space for the diverse passions of individuals within the community to mingle and build upon one another, areas that were once unsafe to walk in during the day have now become parks, night markets and community centers.

The allure of such success stories is that upswing depends not on any single person or group’s endeavor to solve every problem at once, but rather the opportunity for individuals to draw near with their thoughts and passions, just as they are, in order to apply old skills to envision something new. History’s greatest innovations tend to be attributed to thinking outside of the box, but in reality, their inventors bring them about by drawing upon different disciplines and applying them to a new one.

In order to create communities that allow members to grow with one another, we must use public space deliberately in a way that celebrates the diversity of our communities. By reclaiming public space as the stake of the individual, we can transform the overlooked and abandoned spaces into fluid networks, by extension, supportive open communities.

The ideas are out there. Should we choose to rethink the opportunities we have to interact in public space, then those occasional flashes of wonderment that come when we encounter something bigger than us, like when we experience art or share our aspirations with each other, will overflow into our networks as we live deliberately with those who share them with us.

The post Reclaiming public space appeared first on The Triangle.

The sixth episode of the fifth season of “Game of Thrones” stirred up quite a strong reaction from fans after it aired. For those who watch “Game of Thrones” religiously, you will remember this as the episode that ended with Sansa Stark being raped on her wedding night. The days following the episode’s premiere were filled with a frenzy of outraged fans, who were outraged for various reasons; the most common ones being the deviation from the book, the fact that the addition was unnecessary to the character development of Sansa and the fact that the scene was punctuated by zooming in on Theon’s face, as though he were the victim.  Many people have withdrawn their support of “Game of Thrones” because they were so disgusted by the rape scene. But what disgusts me about the entire thing, which most people have not discussed, was the lack of a trigger warning.

This is not the first time rape has been in “Game of Thrones.” The subject is often mentioned and attempts or actual rape have been shown before (the attempted rape of Sansa as well as the actual rape of Cersei). I think the difference in the case of Cersei is that she and Jaime have a sexual history (though this definitely does not make it right for him to forcefully have his way with her) and the fact that in the book a sexual act does occur and is actually consensual. Watching her being raped was also uncomfortable and many people were similarly disgusted, but the outrage was not as big as with Sansa. In the case of Sansa, she was not raped in the book. Her rape was unexpected. There was no warning.

This where I think the greatest problem lies. Not that they chose to change the storyline (this coming from an avid reader who curses most movies for being inaccurate), not that they panned over to Theon and showed his reaction (yes, this is awful, but it is definitely better than actually watching Ramsay rape Sansa as opposed to just hearing it), but that there was no trigger warning. There was absolutely nothing to warn people that there would be such a graphic scene.

A trigger warning is an advisory that is there to prevent people who may have post-traumatic flashbacks or anxiety triggered by certain subjects. Encountering those subjects whether it is war, rape or suicide, which are some of the common topics that often work as triggers, usually leads to strong and sometimes damaging emotional responses.

Since the episode has aired, articles about the rape have focused on Sansa being a minor (The Daily Beast), rape being a terrible motivator for character development (Vanity Fair) and that Theon should not have been the central focus during the rape. But I have yet to see an article discussing the lack of a trigger warning. According to Entertainment Weekly, “Game of Thrones” has a viewership of 20 million people. Twenty million. If anyone has ever even glanced at rape statistics, it can be assumed that a fair amount of viewers have been sexually assaulted or raped. And the producers of “Game of Thrones” really did not think to put a trigger warning on the episode?

Many who have never been through a traumatic sexual experience found the ending of the episode incredibly heavy to watch. After watching the episode myself with friends, we all sat in an uncomfortable silence, trying and failing to understand what we just saw. Alfie Allen, who plays Theon Greyjoy, expressed himself that the scene was “hard to watch.”

It honestly baffles me that no one seems to care about the lack of trigger warning, except apparently for those who have been sexually traumatised. There is so much talk nowadays about the presence of rape culture, but where is the sympathy and compassion for rape victims? Where is the support and understanding? Whether the storyline should have been changed or not, whether it perpetuates rape culture, whether it is anti-feminist to zoom in on Theon, that all should come second to the importance of trigger warnings and being sensitive to those who may have experienced something similar that was the most traumatic experience of their lives. Because no one wants to relive that experience, especially when watching their favorite show. 

Kaitlin Thaker is a junior international area studies major at Drexel University. She can be contacted at op-ed@thetriangle.org.

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I am a member of the community to which artist Candy Chang referred many times during her talk at Mandell Theater April 30, that is, the community of people living near 38th and Powelton Avenue. My experience of her artwork, “Before I Die…,” is very different from what Chang described.

I live only about 50 yards from where the wall stood, yet I had no say in the invitation of Chang to install the work, no input into its conceptualization and construction, and no say at its conclusion. I — along with my neighbors and my neighbors’ children — had no recourse but to spend seven months living with it.

I experienced the wall as an exceptionally ugly assembly of black plywood, often covered with vulgarities, racial slurs, crude drawings, inanities and graffiti tags. I also observed a peculiar pattern: Whenever too many negative contributions had accumulated, someone would wash the boards off. Soon after, about a third of the spaces would be filled with pleasant but innocuous wishes, all, interestingly, in the same handwriting.

During her talk, Chang spoke of many interactions with the community during the time the wall was on display. To my knowledge, she was here for only a couple of days in late October (when it was installed) and for a few days at the end of April (in connection with her talk). On Oct. 16, the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance’s GroundSwell Team circulated an email, inviting the “community” to the Dornsife Center Oct. 23. We were asked to participate in a round table discussion with Chang, to “explore concepts for a temporary art installation at the site.” Attendees were encouraged to “bring ideas, materials, momentums [sic], photographs and any other items that represent the history, rich culture of University City High School and the Black Bottom experience.”

Instead, “Before I Die…” — a formula-based piece that had appeared in other locations around the world — had already been erected earlier that same day. Obviously, there had never been any intent to include input from the community. It is also worth noting that the meeting at the Dornsife Center was, according to Drexel University’s Department of English and Philosophy who sponsored Chang, the “only event open to the community” during her October visit.

Nonetheless, several attendees voiced their sadness at the impending demolition of the three schools, especially University City High School. Some neighborhood-based artists, who had been told that there would be opportunities for other works on the construction fence, were surprised to learn that there would be no budget for their projects. The only artist to be paid would be Candy Chang, who had been brought in from New Orleans with virtually no knowledge of the Mantua, Powelton and West Powelton neighborhoods.

I had hoped that by attending Chang’s presentation April 30, I would have had a chance to engage with the artist during the question and answer period. Instead, after sitting through 90 minutes of stories about her career path and the artworks she has created, the moderator announced that they had run out of time and that questions would be cut short. Two audience members in the first rows were handed the microphone but the rest of us were left with our hands raised.

Besides being a member of the community supposedly served by Chang’s artwork, I am also an artist and a professor of art at Franklin & Marshall College. I write for Sculpture Magazine, and I’ve had many years of experience with both public art and socially engaged art. It is from this professional standpoint that I offer these additional observations.

While Candy Chang is clearly an intelligent artist, deserving of some of her accolades, “Before I Die…” is not one of the more well-conceived works of its genre. With this kind of “socially engaged” public art, context is everything. Understanding that context, and gaining the trust of the local residents, takes time. Perhaps in its first iteration — on an abandoned house in Chang’s New Orleans neighborhood — the wall had some real meaning, given that she lived in that community and had ample time to come to know her neighbors.

During her April talk, Chang stated several times that she was honored to have been invited to install one of her walls on “the Drexel campus,” seemingly oblivious to the fact that 38th and Powelton Avenue is in a residential or commercial corridor and not internal to a college campus.

If I had been allowed the opportunity, I would have asked Chang about her criteria for judging the success of an artwork, and how the desire for “success” by a sponsoring institution like Drexel might present a compromising factor. I would have asked why she believed that passers-by would somehow reach deeply into their beings to identify longings more profound than “get to Disneyworld” or “make all the jerks pay.” (This latter desire appeared on the wall through its entire run, constantly re-contributed.)

If Chang had attended meetings of the Mantua Civic Association, the Powelton Village Civic Association and the West Powelton Concerned Community Council, she might have been able to speak with the area residents. Had she met with the people at the University City District and the People’s Emergency Center Community Development Corporation, she might have gained an understanding of the economic challenges along the commercial corridor. Had she knocked on the doors of those of us who live across the street, she might have learned about the history of that corner, including a previous public art controversy (Jefre’s RE:flect, the “green wall” that literally kept dying and was eventually dismantled) and the repeated shootings, stabbings and altercations at the local bar.

Had Chang immersed herself in the surrounding community and come to understand the context in which she was working, the resulting artwork might have taken a very different form: one that truly provoked “civic engagement and emotional introspection.”

Virginia Maksymowicz is an Associate Professor in the Art and Art History Department at Franklin and Marshall College. She can be contacted at op-ed@thetriangle.org.

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Before moving to Philadelphia, I worked at a brand-new cafe and coffee shop in Scottsdale, an upper-middle class suburb of Phoenix, Arizona.

I worked the register right next to the baristas at the counter in the morning, but after they went home, only my manager, Cody, knew how to operate the machine. During one particularly slow afternoon, he went to take inventory only to come back and find me at the register trying to juggle a line out the door, a ringing phone and 10 orders for espresso drinks all at once.

After this, I convinced Cody to train me as a barista so I could work the counter independently, but the truth is that I simply found the right time to ask. Baristas manage to be hypnotizing even in the swirl of lunch rush as they pull espresso and steam milk, and I made the most of my opportunity to learn.

A bit about espresso. This isn’t your Lebow Starbucks. I would roll my eyes when my owner bragged to customers about our shiny red imported Italian espresso machine, but when I did my research, it turned out that our shiny red imported Italian espresso machine was actually the Lamborghini of espresso machines.

Unlike drip coffee, espresso requires packing the coffee grounds into a portafilter, which is that little filter with a handle that baristas jiggle out of the machine, and pulling a lever to force hot water through the filter. Each pull produces one or two shots depending on the machine.

After a brief introduction to pulling espresso and steaming milk by hand, Cody told me to make a latte. A standard small latte consists of steamed milk, a light cover of foam and two shots, which came out to one pull on the machine. The first latte I ever had was the first that I made, and though good, it wasn’t great.

For the next month, I made one small latte every single day — nothing more, nothing less. Cody would grade me on the preparation of ingredients, the taste, the foaminess, the presentation and the cleanup, and if it wasn’t up to par, I would wait until the next day. One of my coworkers would give me pointers along the way, as she was trained by the third-highest-ranked barista in the United States. She said he was a jerk.

One day, Cody sipped his daily latte and said I was ready for everything else. I was baffled: If it took a month to learn how to make one standard small latte, how long will it take to learn everything else?

He told me to make a cappuccino, telling me that it’s everything a latte is but “foamier.” I pulled the shots and suspiciously swirled the milk pitcher around the steamer for just a bit longer before asking him to taste it and tell me if it was a cappuccino. All he had to do was lift the cup to know: a cappuccino is one part espresso, one part steamed milk and one part milk foam, and mine wasn’t light enough.

The next day, my latte was light enough to qualify as a cappuccino, and by the end of my shift, I knew how to make every drink we had. Everything on a coffee menu, hot or iced, is simply a variation of ratio of espresso shots and other things. Shots can be served black as a single (solo) or double (doppio) shot or combined with some combination of a filler (milk for a latte or cappuccino, water for an Americano) and optional syrup or combination of syrups.

Iced drinks are virtually indistinguishable from hot drinks, though more shots may be required to avoid watering down the coffee as the espresso is pulled hot and immediately poured over ice. Ever noticed that there is no such thing as an iced cappuccino? This is because the only distinction between a latte and a cappuccino is the ratio of foam when served hot.

My barista certification test was an informal list of drink orders given by the owner. All I needed to know was the customer’s personal preferences in order to make it, but most customers underestimate the range of drink possibilities. Should you ask a barista what’s behind the counter, he will more than likely be thrilled that you asked, unless he happens to be the third-highest-ranked barista in the United States.

The intricacies of working in coffee shops are more detailed than described here, as innovative baristas create their own signature drinks using different roasts, coffee-to-milk ratios and syrup blends, but what makes the discipline of espresso so brilliant is the amount of skill that goes into accommodating the customer. Coffee is the people who drink it.

I intended for my job to be a gig bussing tables and picking up some cash, but every time I wrap my hands around a coffee mug, I am grateful that I recognized the opportunity to learn something new and seized it when I could. You may never know your shiny red imported Italian espresso machine until you find it.

Nohra Murad is a freshman biomedical engineering major at Drexel University. She can be contacted at op-ed@thetriangle.org.

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As a freshman this year, I, like everyone before me, have been forced to endure the meal plan forced upon all on-campus freshmen by Drexel University. Given two choices, the “Blue Plan” and the “Gold Plan,” I had to pick my poison in order to survive the year and sufficiently feed myself. However, this experience has been far worse than a typical college student’s experience because I am a vegetarian. After deciding that the “Blue Plan” was for me because it offered more dining dollars and gave me more freedom to buy things for myself from the market, as well as have the option of eating at Vegetate.

I quickly realized that $475 and 12 meal swipes a week was not enough to feed me for an entire quarter. The Handschumacher Dining Hall offers many options, but very few options are suitable for vegetarians. As someone who does not eat eggs, I find the omelette bar useless. That, coupled with the fact that “Meatless Mondays” is the only real time to get vegetarian food, has made it difficult to eat at the dining hall at all.

But what about pizza and pasta? Contrary to popular belief, a person can only eat so much pizza. And pasta? I was shocked to find out that even that is not vegetarian. After throwing out about three bowls of pasta, because I kept finding beef in it, I was disappointed to find out that the red marinara sauce option is only vegetarian half of the time. Other times, it has meat mixed in, again, causing the number of options for vegetarians to dwindle. But that means I can have pasta with white sauce on those days… right? Turns out that the white, alfredo sauce is made with vegetable stock. Most of the time, that is. Other times, it is made with chicken stock. How can you tell which days it’s vegetarian? You can’t.

“But you can use your meal swipes for the Take 3 at Northside!” This is true. But is that necessarily better than the Hans? With one meal swipe at Northside, I can get a water and a packet of chips as well as one entree. The only vegetarian option for an entree being a delicious box of lettuce topped with several shreds of cheese. Hooray.

OK, so I can’t use my meal swipes, but I have $475 dollars to get me through 11 weeks! That’s about $43 a week! Except, a meal and drink from Vegetate or Currito (the two places I have found most vegetarian friendly), cost a minimum of $10. But if we assume that I drink nothing but water, a meal alone costs six to eight dollars. So $43 gets me a wonderful five to seven meals a week out of the 21 that a normal human being should be eating. How healthy.

But I’m not the only one that’s gone through this silent struggle; many other have endured the vegetarians curse. Whether it is because of allergies, religious restrictions, larger or smaller diet or vegetarian- or vegan-ism, Drexel should allow for a little more freedom for people to personalize their meal plans in order to suit them. However, without providing ample choices for those who need it, Drexel should not force one of two meal plans on freshmen who might already be having a hard time adjusting to college life. I strongly suggest that Drexel comes up with a better system for freshmen meal plans before they actually start harvesting plants off the bio wall.

Neeharika Simha is a freshman political science major at Drexel University. She can be contacted at op-ed@thetriangle.org.

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I hate street style. I look at street style blogs for outfit inspiration and check updates for fashion weeks in major cities as they happen. But I admit that I do so grudgingly. I don’t know a soul who would lay out a neon visor and two differently colored heels for the next day and say to themselves, “Yes, this is a good idea.” Unless they are selling them. I grumble and take notes on their outfit anyways. I end up wearing a tamer version of what some enlightened photographer saw as visionary.

“Confidence is the best accessory” is not a cliche. Clothes are just clothes, after all, and a person intentionally wearing something ridiculous lives more boldly than someone who simply puts on whatever they’re sold. A helpful piece of advice for the ladies: It’s hard to discredit a girl when she’s wearing red lipstick to her 9 a.m. lecture. You’ve always wanted to bleach your hair — when will you, if not now?

I like to nod and affirm such feminist liberation to wear what I want within my own bounds of modesty, but a fundamental obstacle to this logic arises. An exception of exceptions, this stumbling block is so controversial, so despised that it silences even the most liberal of feminist fashionistas from addressing it: the fanny pack.

Regardless of our personal judgments, we must all acknowledge the two inarguable attributes of the fanny pack, which are its practicality and its inherent tackiness. Somewhere in the 1990s, the fanny pack went from trendy to touristy. Today, we find ourselves conflicted and attracted to the idea of having all of our belongings within easy reach at all times but revolted by, well, actually having to wear a fanny pack.

The cause of the fanny pack isn’t helped by its ironic cool factor. I’m sure your Aunt Deborah would disapprove of these American Apparel hooligans with their band shirts and horn-rimmed glasses parading in her trademark bum bag.

I turned to the fashion industry for answers. When such strange trends turn up in the street style world, I tend to search for confirmation in runway presence so that I can throw up my hands, accept the bizarreness of fashion and move on with my life.

But as I dug further, I realized that I was pressing on a glaring inconsistency plaguing designers since the industry’s failed resuscitation of the fanny pack in 2011. Korean handbag designer Sang A Im-Propp was one of the many designers to unveil a new “belt bag” on the runway for the spring season, but when an interviewer referred to the article as a fanny pack, she decried the term “fanny pack” as “just eww, so cheesy, so tacky, so horrible.”

Perhaps the only solution to America’s fanny pack stigma is recognizing that Aunt Deborah’s fanny pack is beyond redemption in its current form, as is every rendition from Louis Vuitton’s to Etsy’s most recent galaxy cat print, because we cannot fight the reputation that comes with it. What we can do, however, is reinvent where and why we wear it.

As much as we’d hate to admit it, the fanny pack indicates freedom. Imagine a weekend, ladies, where we can leave the house with simply our phone, keys and ID like the other half of the population usually does, as opposed to lugging around a bulky shoulder bag.

The only barrier between us and the ideal is the courage to let go of the past. Just as a long dress and gym sneakers can be chic when the person wearing it carries herself with confidence, then even a piece with as much of a reputation as the fanny pack can be redeemed as stylish independent of irony or kitsch.

Whether or not you’re convinced to bring back the fanny pack, the parallel is still worthy of consideration. Even if we let the bum bag fade into history, at least we can convince ourselves that being self-assured in what and why we wear what we wear, can bring about a similar aura of confidence elsewhere.

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