Matt Green remembers watching as his abusive father was repeatedly slammed into their front lawn by police officers. He remembers staring at five two-liter bottles that were full to the brim with his own vomit ? he'd glance at them between sets of curls, push-ups, and sit-ups.
Taking a step into My Tomato Pie isn't the same as taking a step into your average Italian restaurant.
Exactly one year ago, Carly Schreiber, a sophomore communication major, lay on the bathroom floor of Target throwing up and shaking, losing feeling in her arms and legs.
The floor of the basement is sticky from beer and the black lights ? intended to create a club-like vibe ? illuminate two cobwebbed laundry machines positioned against a far wall. It's no ritzy nightclub, but to Zachary Goldstein, a freshman history major, it may as well be Madison Square Garden. Each night in the basement he makes his debut as a DJ, and though he is working for free, he has every intention of bringing down the (frat) house. Goldstein is not the only person whose interest in music ? specifically, electronic music ? has inspired him to give turntables a try.
At first glance, English professor Joseph Valente looks the part of a disheveled police officer, hardened by years of grotesque images and murderous aftermath implanted into his memory.
The club members sit in front of the panel of SA Senate officials ? sweaty palms, hearts racing.
She stared at herself in the mirror, disappointed in what she saw. She heard the voices of the popular girls of her high school in her head telling her that she was slutty and chubby ? that she didn't deserve to be on the cheerleading squad like the rest of them.
On Main Street last Friday night, a group of hulking men stood outside a bar. Their muscles bulged and their breath hung visibly in the cold air as they surveyed the scene: a long line of people against the building's side, most of them students with hopeful looks in their glassy, inebriated eyes. Suddenly, there was a commotion.
As they crept around the premises of an abandoned Lockport warehouse, the only audible sound was of snow crunching beneath their feet.
Imani Choudhury, a senior health and human services major, starts her day by praying at 6 a.m. While most other students slide on jeans and a hoodie, Choudhury picks out a kameez ? a colorful, traditional Bangladeshitunic.
This weekend, the traditionally bland halls of Knox exploded with life. There were paper yellow brick roads, authentic costumes, scattered sneakers, laughter, and ethnic bodies frolicking around effortlessly.
When the men's basketball team needs a big bucket, senior forward Dave Barnett often pipes up. "I'm going to make it if you give me the ball," he says. He's made this proclamation four times over the past two seasons, and he's been right every time. Barnett is a lanky, 6-foot-5 forward.
Solutions by The State News
