Unlikely undergraduates: The lives of Berkeley’s re-entry students

But for students who aren’t of the typical undergraduate age, the march through Sproul can be profoundly alienating — an experience of social anxiety and self-consciousness rather than camaraderie. These individuals, known formally as “re-entry” students, often emerge near Sather Gate empty-handed, bypassed because they resemble professors or community members.
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Seeking: One Trump supporter

Despite this epidemic of Trump fever, I could not recall ever having a serious conversation about Trump with a genuine supporter of his. As a UC Berkeley student, I couldn’t think of a single person on campus who wanted to “make America great again.” But that couldn’t be right. There had to be one of his very many supporters on our liberal oasis of a campus. So I set out to find one.
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Short Fiction: Too Cool

I remember thinking that each tree slanted toward us, shouldering the heavy fog above the spinach-green-and-maplewood Outback as it screamed muted music and tobacco-filled gossip. The canopy of the sequoias was blocked by a whiteness that expanded through the cloud. We were excited. The cabin had always shown us a
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The no-no boys and me

I’ve always known that, in regards to my Japanese cultural heritage, I basically grew up under a rock. Well not quite a rock — more like a collection of larger rocks. I grew up at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Colorado Springs is known for
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Photo essay: The Kickback Show

Twice each month, people from all over the East Bay gather in downtown Oakland at the Mary Weather Art Gallery to dance, perform spoken-word poetry and listen to hip-hop music. Aptly called the Kickback Show, this block party features talent from innovative young artists in a variety of forms. This
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Sketchbook: Loryn Cook’s magical musings

Loryn Cook is one of those artists who LOOKS like an artist, you know? She’s the (sometimes bespectacled) girl in a cool hat and vintage sweatshirt sitting near the back of your environmental design class, eyes pinned firmly on her sketchbook, drawing something jaw-droppingly intricate and beautiful with the dreamy air of someone merely doodling.
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Carpe il Vino

“Definite hints of cherry,” I say in my best I-went-to-Yale-and-this-wine-is-worth-$200 voice, swirling the burgundy liquid around and around in the thinly stemmed glass. “Some oaky-ness, right?” “Yeah. Wow, that was on point!” Erika says, clinking glasses with me as she peruses the wine list. “Oh wait, no, I was looking
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