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Editors’ note: Goodnight and good luck

Some students traverse the halls of UC Berkeley for only a year. Some for two. Some for four, and some for many more. Some stick it out; some come and go as they please. Some barely graduate. Others pass with ease. Soon-to-be graduates have seen it all: tuition hikes, protests,
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Figuring out the rest of my story

During finals week of my freshman year, at the peak of December 2014’s Black Lives Matter protests, I received a late night text from my editors at The Daily Californian asking me to go to Oakland to follow a group that was setting fire to trash cans in the middle
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Homewards

It was summertime when I first visited our college town. I was 18 years old, and I walked up the road behind the football stadium and sat on a bench in the flower garden. This isn’t right, I thought. No family. No friends. Some new classrooms, but so what? The
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Ismael Farooqui

Goodbye to all that, or just some

Berkeley is the only city in America where the winter and summer sky are the same cold blue. I was reminded of that fact at home over winter break, when I was out for a walk along the side of the road. I remember feeling so far away from Berkeley
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Multitudes

This past month, I found myself returning to the Big C day after day. It’s a nice place, in a very meta way, to get away. There’s nature and the Bay spread out before you, but there’s also the dirty remnants of a couple of six-packs people hauled up there
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Spring with me: a convoluted thanks

Trigger warning: mental health I read a book by a Japanese artist about his experience as a prisoner of war in Siberia after World War II. He wrote about how 20 years after his repatriation, he still kept painting and writing about Siberia — the red corpse lying next to
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Walking home

“Hey so where do we order?” “This isn’t what I asked for!” “Are you guys still open?” Work always ends at 6:53. The machine registers the time as 7:00, and we’re usually done cleaning by a quarter till anyway. I change from my work shirt into my stained Cal hoodie
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An imperfect perfect Cal experience

All I wanted was the perfect college experience. And it already started out with the most imperfect of beginnings — the place. Staying in the Bay Area for college, as a born and raised Alamedan, was hardly a choice of mine — financially, it was the only choice I could
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