Inside the Best Union in the Best University in the Best City in the World.

A conversation with Mary Putman.

Images Laetitia Duler what stuns you what tears into you these images that make your eyes bleed i can’t imagine going through without having in my possession the sight of you on monday mornings your face open and floral, pressed into cotton every small death you may have endured melting snow and my back coiled from you in bed, knowing what the light can do to you, mythologized creature, unforgiving thing silent night beneath contaminated skies pure story of your t

Looking at how inner turmoil in Columbia Milvets led to dean intervention.

The Blue and White meets the chaplain who services Columbia’s football team.

In which our hero broods in the park.

by Yasemin Akçagüner Rasmi Elasmar, CC ’17, will hopefully graduate from Columbia with a concentration in Math this May (“They don’t tell you this, but you can graduate with just a concentration”) despite having put down Astrophysics, Computer Science and Math as his triple majors and Stats as his concentration back in sophomore year. Rasmi, whose first name means “formal” or “official” in Arabic, finds his name oxymoronic. “If anything, I’m the opposite of formal.” Rasmi als

Like her light wash, cuffed jeans, Nadine Fattaleh, CC ’17,  is laid back and low key. She’s soft-spoken, but with a coolness that makes you want to strain to hear her every word, as if everything she says is going to be important. She doesn’t get excited about things, not even when I ask about cats. “I love cats and everyone knows it,” she deadpans, “Sometimes I pretend to be a cat.” Nadine has an almost disconcerting ability to switch from talking about felines to capitalis

A little known Columbia factoid is that the the tunnel complex underneath Dodge is named “The Grove.” According to urban legend, the tunnels were originally a park located at the northwest corner of Columbia that is now occupied by the Northwest Corner building and the surrounding structures. Hidden within this ironically named subterranean sprawl are two dumpster sized cardboard bins ominously referred to as “The Computer Graveyard.” The Computer Graveyard, much like name of

During my freshman year I tripped while walking up the stairs in Ferris and cut my head without realizing it. I got up thinking I was fine, and proceeded to my table with blood gushing from my scalp. In the course of my walk across the dining hall I got several weird looks, but not a single person said anything to me. I didn’t know I was bleeding until I arrived back at my table and my horrified friend asked what had happened. What a perfect metaphor for Columbia, I thought a