This Thursday, a film screening of “The Interrupters,” a documentary on workers who prevent gun violence in Chicago, will take place in Pruyne Lecture Hall at 8 p.m. Co-sponsored by Careers in Education Professions, Black Students Union, the EDU, the Department of Film and Media Studies and the Amherst College Entrepreneurs Society, the event will feature Co-Producer Zak Piper and Ricardo “Cole” Williams, one of the three violence “interrupters” (along with Eddie Bocanegra and Ameena Matthews) whose life and work in their crime-ridden communities form the focus of the documentary.
[Trigger warning: sexual assault and misogyny]
[Trigger warning: sexual assault and misogyny]
This past Thursday night was a highlight of my time at Amherst; it will forever endure as a cherished memory.
At 6:30 p.m., my friend Marisa and I met outside Stone and marched into town, chattering excitedly as we strode through blustery gusts of biting wind that blew heavy, wet snowflakes into our faces and hair. We hiked across the park and past Fresh Side, CVS and Miss Saigon before finally reaching one of my favorite restaurants in the world.
Over the past few weeks, a couple of Letters to the Editor in The Student have gone back and forth over the use of gender-neutral pronouns in English, particularly, as pointed out in a letter by Ryland Richards ’13, the distinction between “ze” and “they” as options for those who do not identify as “he” or “she,” or when the gender identity of a person is ambiguous or unknown. The discussion around what to do in such circumstances has been circulating among English speakers for some years.
The stealth genre is one that game developers ought to approach with caution. Stealth-centered games are difficult to execute well, and it isn’t difficult to understand why. Any proper stealth game has to balance its genre’s three core gameplay concepts: waiting, sneaking and acting. Getting the equilibrium between the three can be difficult, and it varies from game to game: the Hitman series emphasizes the waiting aspect, and most of one’s time is spent gathering information and artfully setting traps (although one can choose to forego these elements and play instead a mediocre shooter).
Tanya Tagaq, the Inuit throat singer who held a concert at the Buckley Recital Hall last Friday, cracked a light joke shortly before her performance began. Amplified by the microphone that she tore from the stand, her hearty laugh rumbled and echoed in the air. She kicked aside her high heels within seconds of her entrance and seemed completely at ease.
