Last Saturday, the delicious scent of crème brûlée and chocolate croissants wafted through the alleys of Blacker Hovse. Moles hurried around the Hovse, tidying up their courtyard and dining hall for their annual Interhovse. The theme? The French Revolution. After months of preparation—with input from what felt like the entire Hovse—a production worthy of that era’s dynamism and ingenuity came together marvelously, complete with a panoply of renegade constructions and toothsome dishes.
At the Kill the Cuts rally on April 8th, I gave the following speech to Caltech and USC contingents in front of the 300 North Los Angeles Federal Building. I hope its words resonate with the current scientific/political/cultural moment. They represent my truest feelings, the joyous and the vitriolic, as best as I can compress and verbalize them.
As I lean over my desk, slumped between piles of textbooks and scrawled notes, the weight of my schoolwork drags down my mind. The pressure to excel academically and carve out a niche in the competitive university environment sometimes becomes overwhelming. Yet amidst the chaos of deadlines and exams, an old song unexpectedly pierces the drudgery. The rich, sweeping sounds of “Belle” from Beauty and the Beast sweep me, in the blink of an eye, from the chill of my dorm room to one of wonder and magic. In an instant, I am no longer a struggling student trying to find her place, but a capable, independent young woman, venturing out into the world’s possibilities. The burden of academic intensity and the pressure to conform to societal norms melt away, replaced by a sense of empowerment, joy, and pure fantasy.
Watching William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is always a delve into the delightful confusion between desire, identity, and illusion, in a dramatic comedy that plays with what we feel and how we show ourselves. In the production directed by Miranda Stewart, presented at the Ramo Auditorium between April 25th and 27th by EXPLiCIT (EXtracurricular PLayers at the California Institute of Technology—the ‘i’ is imaginary), the 1601 classic from the Elizabethan era gains new life with freshness, rhythm and a staging that honors the carnival spirit of the work without losing its emotional depth.
