First semester melted away in a blur of cheap vodka, fraternity emails, and dark rides on yellow school buses into the middle of a rural field, where young bodies pulsated with nervous energy and bounced off of elevated surfaces. We woke up with skidded knees, shoes caked in dirt, and fragmented memories. We didn’t realize that we were fracturing ourselves, scattering the bright-eyed pieces of our newly born cells into the darkest corners of a strange forest in a dilapidated barn.

“1917” has taken the awards circuit by storm with its technologically innovative and visually striking approach to the war film genre. Written and directed by Sam Mendes, the film follows two British soldiers as they embark on the ambitious overnight mission to reach the British army’s 7th Division before they march into massacre.

It occurred to me that the boy lying there – older than me, but definitively not yet a man – had only stumbled into my life a handful of weeks before. Yet that is how college operates, permitting bodies that collide by chance to mingle in shared spaces for days, weeks, months on end. Migrating from lecture hall to library perch to brunch spot to sweaty bar to here, wrapped in my baby blue blanket, at 3 am.

Shakespeare seems fixated on the idea that words are ripe for consumption, to both nourishing and detrimental ends. The characters in the play become vulnerable to the rhetoric that surrounds and engenders them and it becomes apparent that the configuration and consumption of identity as a story that people may tell about themselves or to each other is a concept too tenuous to withstand destructive intervention.

Amazon Prime’s newest anthology series, which premiered Oct. 18, follows a string of New Yorkers navigating their way through dating apps, running clubs, therapy sessions and grocery aisles in search of one connection to make it all worthwhile. The characters, ranging from a grieving girl who sees her father in the silvering sideburns of a workplace acquaintance to an anxiety-ridden man who manages to impale himself on a martini glass during a second date, collectively demonstrate that love can manifest in clumsy and unconventional ways, particularly in the city that never sleeps.

As a senior English major, I’ve taken several creative nonfiction writing classes at Duke, during which my professors have encouraged us to seek out small local publications in Durham or Chapel Hill in the hopes of being published. I approached this event at the Franklin Humanities Institute seeking to learn more about the publication outlets available to aspiring authors and the plausibility of writing something marketable within a rapidly accelerating media landscape.

Durham might seem far removed from the cultural metropolises of New York and Los Angeles, where companies like HBO and NBCUniversal are headquartered, but recruiters from leading media companies such as these will be available to connect with students at Duke’s annual Media-Ville.

Each year, DEMAN Weekend attracts accomplished creative professionals to campus for a weekend of networking, learning and career exploration. The Duke Entertainment, Media, & Arts Network’s signature event, which is celebrating its 10th year, will take place Nov. 1 and 2.

On February 21, 2019, Pop América, 1965-1975 opened at the Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University – the first bilingual exhibition to grace its gallery space. Pop América challenges the perception of Pop as a primarily U.S. and Euro-centric phenomenon with its unprecedented scope. In Gabara’s words, “There’s been no exhibit like this before.”

It is a scene well-rehearsed, my kitchen arching into a theater, illuminated by the Brazilian hand-blown glass pendant lights dripping over the island counter, my friends crouched around to listen to my parents’ newest enactment of suburban stir-crazies.