Carol Rosenberg, recent recipient of the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award for outstanding human rights reporting, spoke Wednesday and relayed some of her struggles covering events in Guantanamo Bay, where she has logged more time than any other reporter.
Research within the humanities can seem like a daunting task. Students are used to quarter sessions, where theories fly by in a conceptual whirlwind of midterms and profoundly caffeinated essay writing. In classes, it’s expected to spend one week analyzing a book, two weeks on a social phenomenon, three on an entire epoch. So, how does one escape the curse of the cursory?
Thesis-writing time? You mean crunch-time, ugly-time, deep-deep-thoughts-time, blood-sweat-tears-time, days-without-showering-time, girl-don’t-even-think-about-naptime time? Indeed, word association might be one way to go about writing a thesis–choose a topic, break it down into about 17 different parts, pick one, write 50 pages on it and have it represent your entire undergraduate career.
The Coen brothers’ most recent film, a Western set in the late 1800s and adapted from Charles Portis’ novel “True Grit,” ventures into the territory of the light-hearted, whimsical adventure story, complete with a 14-year-old female protagonist and a humorous, crotchety drunkard.
Thursday evening, Colin Goddard spoke with Stanford students after a screening of “Living for 32” hosted by Stanford Film Society in the Roble Theatre. For the Q&A session, he was accompanied by another victim of gun violence, Mindy Finkelstein, who was injured in the 1999 Jewish Community Center shooting, and by Linda Platt, representative for the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence.
As the end of fall quarter fast approaches, the first-year students of Stanford’s M.F.A program in documentary film and video are preparing for their first screening on Stanford campus.
This year’s first “Four Minute Reading,” held in the Ujamaa lounge on Monday, was a wonderful opportunity for developed and developing Stanford authors to showcase four minutes of their writing.
The curtain falls. The house lights turn on. From the Stanford Theatre’s front stage emerges the Mighty Wurlitzer organ, its sonorous tunes rising until music captures the entire room. The music is at once dreamy and immensely powerful, so powerful it sounds as if an entire orchestra were on stage. But it is only one man, with his swift gestures and dancing fingers, creating this symphony. The star of the show is David Hegarty, prolific composer and master organist.