If you decide to see "Herringbone," the play currently featured at Berlind Theatre, chances are you won't ever have seen anything quite like it.
I have a confession to make: My television viewing choices apparently aren't in very good taste. The San Diego Union-Tribune derides a show I watch as "very bad for you." The Parents Television Council makes it sounds like I'm engaging in God-knows-what when it calls my favorite time-waster "mind-blowingly inappropriate." You would think that the producers of The CW's hit high school drama "Gossip Girl" would battle against such harsh criticism of their show.
In my group of friends we're always pegging each other as different "Sex and the City" characters.
Television - how it's changed! From those innocent times when it was found only in our living rooms to its invasion of the internet in the 21st century, TV has proven too valuable to be constrained to a single type of idiot box.
With the fall TV season kicking off, ?Street's' writers fill us in on the shows that will be coming between them and their Pequod packets every week.
After spending another summer working at home, school could not come fast enough. I arrived on campus days early in spite of having nowhere to live until Sept.
Dark satire has always been the domain of the Coen brothers. So after their turn to the ominous side of murder and sadism in the Oscar-winning "No Country For Old Men" (which, mind you, did not stray too far from the sanguinary, visceral formulas the Coens concoct so well), what better way to follow up than by reverting to their specialty?
If you're a regular reader of ?Street,' you've probably noticed that there's something missing: Top Ten.
When people ask me how my summer was, the conversation follows a predictable pattern.
As we head into fall and piles of work, 'Street' asks eight studetns to take one last look at summers to remember.
All my life, I have hated the question, "what's your favorite type of cheese?" Responding to that query requires a level of commitment that I just have never been ready to give.
"I will give you 5,000 camels ... and one donkey!" yelled a man, earnestly flagging me down from his comfortable position in front of what the other students and I referred to as a "man-fe" (all-male cafe). Who knew my hand in marriage was worth that much to this complete stranger?
After long hours of fetching coffee and making copies for little pay, you might think your summer job was the pits.
For art history majors like me, The Met is Mecca. For one, it's enormous. Directly east of the Reservoir in Central Park, the museum's white-marble facade sticks out like a sore thumb on Fifth Avenue.
Most well-organized Princetonians probably make their summer plans months in advance. Not me. I made the mistake of applying for only two internships, thinking, "How could they not hire me?" Well, employers somehow found a way not to offer me a summer job.
When you spend the summer abroad, you're expected to bring a few things back with you: a tan, some souvenirs, a new outlook on life and, of course, crazy travel stories.After two months in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, my skin was suitably burnt, and I had enough new carvings, clothes and assorted trinkets to fill a small suitcase (along with the requisite accompanying insight that such material possessions weren't really the keys to happiness after all).And the stories!
There are few places on Earth quite like our nation's capital. This past summer, I served as the national security and defense intern at the Progressive Policy Institute, a prominent center-left think tank in Washington, D.C.
We took the Coho to Victoria on a Tuesday, and there was a thick mist over the strait, such that one wondered if there really was anything across the waters.
