Malina Gulino

I am, to the best of my knowledge, the only Spectator staffer with a “FUCK SPEC” sticker on her laptop. In my time at Columbia, Spectator has given me considerable sleep deprivation, a number of skeptical looks from my campus activist friends, and at least a dozen anonymous hate comments on my articles. So, fuck Spec.

Over the weekend, I went to brunch with my aunt, who was in town to visit her friend for her birthday. I ordered an avocado toast, the kind of Instagram-trendy and slightly ridiculous breakfast I would normally make fun of, except it was one of the only vegetarian items on the menu. It was, as expected, tasty and overpriced. We both were wearing bomber jackets; the weather was colder than it should have been in late April.

Last November, during an episode of my life I now summarize as a “period of extreme distress,” I received in the mail a light therapy lamp from my mother, who had read somewhere online that it might help improve my mood. The lamp is a small, strange thing—about the size and shape of an etch-a-sketch—that shines incredibly bright blue light when turned on. The enclosed instruction manual advised me to sit by the lamp for half an hour each day, while the blue light effectively mimics the “natural energizing power of daylight” and helps to combat the “winter blues.”

As we at The Eye consider what it means to enter a new decade of magazine writing, we can't help but think of all the other entities that didn't have the privilege of going through this rite of passage—our favorite TV shows among them. While you won't get to feast your eyes on season 30 of Freaks and Geeks anytime soon, The Eye has had a feast imagining it. Join us in reading (watching?) our descriptions of landmark episodes of our favorite shows—but only the shows that didn't make it as far as we wanted them to get.

In April of this year, Columbia Divest for Climate Justice staged a large protest calling for Columbia to divest from fossil fuels, culminating in an eight-day sit-in in Low Library. In its wake, dozens of student groups, from Columbia University Amnesty International to the Columbia Queer Alliance, released statements of support for CDCJ's action.

The moment I spotted a white woman with chopsticks in her blonde hair climbing up the steps of the opera house last Wednesday, I should have turned around and gone home.

It's hard to describe Stoya in a way that does her justice. In many ways, she's like a lot of twentysomething women in Brooklyn who are stressed out about the rent, hate catcallers, and love their cats—but then she's also Stoya, one of today's most widely recognized adult film performers. It's tempting to call her a "feminist porn star," but that, too, feels reductive. Ultimately, Stoya is a thousand different ideas held together in one body. And, with the launch of TRENCHCOATx, the new pay-per-video porn site she started with fellow performer Kayden Kross, she can add film director to that list.

For a club arguably most famous for being an anomaly on Columbia's campus, Columbia University College Republicans holds some pretty typical meetings. Last Wednesday evening, members gathered in Hamilton 503 to debate the week's issue: the U.S.-Iran nuclear talks.

Earlier this month, the PULSE Contemporary Art Fair in Chelsea exhibited Macon Reed's Eulogy for the Dyke Bar, a fully interactive installation modeled after lesbian bars, complete with a makeshift pool table and pink neon sign. Eulogy speaks to the current moment of anxiety in the LGBTQ community—one that puts young metropolitan queer women, among them Columbia students, at the crosshairs.