By Eugenia Chao
The earliest inklings of what we now call smileys appear in the King James Version of the Holy Bible, where we read about “multitudes both of men and women;)” (Acts 5:14). Do you see a face hidden in the text? Or “…God accepteth no man’s person:)” (Galatians 2:6): a smiling one here? Or maybe a wink and a frown: “he made known unto me the mystery; (as I wrote” (Ephesians 3:3). Study the following hieroglyphs and their translations. Do they make sense to you? (Note: to decipher them, one must have fairly developed mental skills and rotate the pictographs 90 degrees clockwise.) :-)’ User tends to drool. :-)8 User is well dressed. :-{ User has a moustache. :-* User just ate a sour pickle. :-& User is tongue-tied. X ) User is cross-eyed. ;^? User is punched out and dazed. :-))) User is very overweight. (:o User is completely bald. “:-) User shaved his right eyebrow off this morning. -:-) User has a mohawk. :B User has protruding front teeth. *-( User got poked in the eye. :- User is inexpressive :-{8 User is unhappy with the results of her breast-enlargement surgery m(_ _)m User bows in apology or gratitude (viewed from the front). [8^) Dilbert. There are an infinite existing and proliferating emoticons. Above are just a few variants of the basic smile :) and frown :(. There are numerous unprintable ones as well–graphic illustrations of certain human body parts or vivid depictions of lewd behavior. Emoticons add expressiveness, emotion, and aesthetics to written discourse. They may amplify the feeling expressed in the sentence, add a subtle spin to it, or even contradict its sentiment. In synchronic communication (on-line chats), smileys can help to clarify a friendly feeling when otherwise the tone of a sentence might be ambiguous. It can also express subtle denial or sarcasm, cheerfulness, and even self-consciousness. Chats do not rely on paralinguistic features (gestures, looks, laughs, etc.) as do face-to-face conversations, and thus need other means to avoid misunderstandings. But are these smileys becoming, instead of a convenience, a hindrance, or an annoyance? Let us consider these problems. First, emoticons are grossly overused. This often happens because the speaker feels he must make up for his deficiency in expression. The little electronic faces are useful in chats (ICQ, AOL, etc.), especially when one can find nothing intelligent to say or, for lack of vocabulary, cannot suitably express his feelings. However, many people find a certain glee in inserting smileys in emails in lieu of normal punctuation marks. Example: "Hey, long time no see :P So how did your midterms go ;D” When reading this, do you feel jeered at? Another problem with emoticons is their ambiguity. These creative, artistic little icons do not mean the same things to everyone. Do smileys intended to be cute or friendly appear to be leering or laughing at you? Let us test a few emoticons for ambiguity. “;o” look at the eyes–is that a wink, or a tear? “:p” is this sticking out one’s tongue in an embarrassed, lewd, or taunting way, or simply the action of licking? If the recipient and the author of the smiley have different conceptions of exactly which emotions are behind the icon, innumerable misunderstandings may arise–one might be offended, falsely led on, or feel hurt. Yes, smileys are cute :), in fact, adorable :D, but if you use them to excess ;O, you will only succeed in confusing :-/, disturbing :(, and annoying >:O your correspondents. Get the idea ;P? P.S. I give my most sincere apologies m(_ _)m for pushing the point in such a manner… #Volume 6 Issue 4
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By Shih Hwa Du
Did you ever wonder why, although we each have ears, eyes, noses, and mouths, we all look so distinctly different? This is also true of our personalities, our thought processes, our likes and dislikes, and our beliefs and disbeliefs. Often we view the world with suspicious eyes, feeling we have been treated unfairly. We count the change we receive, we comment on the smaller portion of rice we got from the canteen. We battle against unreasonable odds but the truth is, the battle is within ourselves. But there’s another way to look at things. We can alter our attitudes and begin to act positively and constructively. We can learn to see value in situations that appear negative (the smaller portion of rice is good for my figure, reduced calorie intake!) and attempt to come to terms with the world and all its imperfections. The fundamental step is to accept the premise that there is more to life than yourself. We are not the center of the universe. We are not the judge of what’s good and what’s not. All of us, on some level, harbor prejudices and biases. If only we would consider the proverb: “Don’t judge a man until you have walked many moons in his moccasins.” I myself am prone to making snap judgments about others based upon how they look, how they dress, or how they speak. During my three years at NTU, I have found a fallacy in these suppositions. I discovered the plainest, dullest girl with those geeky one-inch thick, gold-rimmed spectacles manages to have the wildest weekends and manages to lure a dozen boyfriends (we live in such a cruel world!). Sometimes we say things without thinking, and we have no intention of being offensive to our listeners. In my freshman year, one of my closest friends said to me, in front of our other friends, “Gee…Shih Hwa’s bust is so small, I wish mine were just like hers!” At the time I was deeply hurt. She didn’t do this deliberately to cause me pain, but it hurt anyway. But now I am more open and honest about my own feelings. There is a difference between being judgmental and understanding ourselves. When I look around me, I think many still don’t understand themselves. My dad always tells me, “you have to learn to love yourself before you can love others.” This sentence basically sums up what I am trying to say. It is only when we can understand ourselves that we can fully begin to devote ourselves to others. We are truly listening with an open mind and an open heart when we listen without prejudice to the stories of other people; when we try to identify with what they have to say, rather than continually comparing our differences; when we are courteous and attentive even to those persons who seem to have nothing to offer. #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Simon Wu
“Bikinis are our clothing and music is our language! No matter what the color of your skin! No matter what your race or nation! We must scream loudly in spring, OK?” It’s the beginning of April; it’s sunny and it’s Kenting. The ocean was twinkling blue, and tourists are streaming in as usual. Whether you’re a music lover or not, you can shake your body and dance with the rhythmic beats, or immerse yourself in a hearty scream to celebrate the arrival of spring! Spring Scream is the annual four-day music festival founded by Jimmy and Wade, two foreigners who once gathered some indie bands to play outdoor gigs for fun. But news soon spread around Taiwan, and many so-called “underground” bands gradually joined in the festivity. Before they knew it, the number of indie bands exploded, and outdoor concerts in April have become a celebration for hordes of groupies every year. The Eighth Spring Scream was held this year from April 5 to April 8. More than 150 bands participated, with performances lasting from noon till midnight. “We think of Spring Scream as a very grassroots event, no sponsors, and no limits!” said Wade, one of the founders. I got to experience this for myself last year. In the daytime, the area is like any other Kenting scenic spot, with the same azure sky and gentle breezes. The only extraordinary features I saw were some makeshift tents and stalls selling handmade souvenirs and concert passes. Around noon, you can enjoy some lesser-known bands playing unfamiliar and unusual music. Although the southern Taiwan sunshine burned, the crowds can’t get enough of the music. As night gradually falls, Kenting turns into a Garden of Eden for concertgoers. The sandy beach became a stage and the starlit sky the backdrop. We were shaking, stamping, screaming, dancing, and waving with the music, unaware of the sweat dripping from us! During a performance of The Fevers (a thrash band from Tokyo), while the crowd cheered, Takabe, the drummer, decided to ride his scooter on stage. As he started it up he screamed at the top of his lungs and hit the throttle. The scooter began to spin, and then all of the a sudden, as if we watching some kind of stunt show, he fishtailed off into a bramble filled ditch. The crowd really went wild. The rhythm of the music combined us into one, and everyone became friends; souls were temporally released and didn’t return until midnight. When it was time for bed, we put up tents and lay down facing the stars. As I lay there, I imagined everyone was still stuck in the moment just as I was, and that we expected it to happen again the next night. It’s a pity that I didn’t go to Spring Scream this year. My friends told me the festival was as crazy as usual, hordes of music lovers from throughout the island had lots of wanton fun. Actually, the reason why I love Spring Scream so much is the variety of music, popular or not. Discovering it is like peeling an onion – you uncover one layer only to discover more layers underneath. No matter how long you stay you never stop hearing something original. So, if you have a chance to visit Kenting during the next spring break, don’t forget to catch the Spring Scream! #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Ming Lee
Your hands should be pushed forward from your chest over the surface of the water,” our coach said loudly, as he stood by the side of the swimming pool. Can you swim? I could swim since I was 13, but I always knew I didn’t swim very well. So I took a swimming course last summer, where I learnt lots of swimming techniques, particularly breaststroke. Now I feel like a champion swimmer. This swimming course consisted of two months of training. Every weekend, I went to the swimming stadium on Hong Kong Island. The first thing we would do was watch a video introducing basic knowledge about swimming. Then our swimming coach would patiently show us all the techniques for improving breaststroke. There are four things to remember for a good breaststroke: 1. Head Position and Breathing The head should rest between the arms and the body should be flat in the water. Less resistance is encountered with the body underwater than at the surface, so each kick should start with the body and head slightly submerged. Breathing should be taken at the end of the insweep of each stroke, and with the head looking downward or slightly forward. 2. Pulling We begin the pull by shrugging our shoulders up, with the elbows turned out and the palms of the hands facing outward. As the shoulders are shrugged, the hands are accelerated down and then inward until the palms come together under the chin. The insweep ends with the hands moving up and forward together. 3. Kicking The kick finishes with the toes pointing to the bottom of the pool and the soles of the feet coming together. And the feet are also kicked downward from the water surface, but not straight back. Gradually we accelerate the feet until the soles and ankles come together. 4. Timing Timing is very important to an effective breaststroke. There are two patterns currently in use: glide and overlap timing. Beginners should prefer the glide pattern, which is characterized by a brief pause after the kick when our arms are extended. Overlap timing involves beginning the outsweep while the legs are coming together at the finish of the kick. Lots of fast breaststrokers will use overlap timing to reduce the period of deceleration following the kick and the insweep of the arms. After learning these techiques for two months, I found that my swimming skills really improved a lot! Swimming is very healthy exercise. Many researchers point out that swimming can prevent heart disease because it can help blood vessels become more elastic. Besides, swimming lets our muscles and joints move freely and comfortably without undue strain, so it can help increase flexibility in our joints. In addition, regular swimming can cause the body to release endorphins, natural opiate-like hormones that produce a sense of well-being. If you want to know more information about swimming and its benefits to our health, please contact http://www.swiminfo.com/ or http://www.archwaterworks.com/ #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Posheng Wu
Free Internet surfing, being away from parents, and staying far from commuters’ traffic jams: this is what most non-residents imagine as the beauty of life in the dorms, and some students have long dreamed of having a place in an NTU dormitory. But the reality of dorm life is a lot more than these things, and interesting or strange events sometimes make life in the dorms a little…weird, and things are even weirder if you happen to live in Men’s Dormitory #1. Most of the dormitories for male students are very old, and so is their equipment. Don’t talk loudly on the phone: in addition to annoying your roommate, there is a very strong possibility you’ll be heard in the next room, for the walls are paper-thin. Sometimes you can hear music flowing through the wall in the middle of the night, making you think you have encountered a ghost. Forget to bring your key to the outside door? No problem, all you need is a used telephone card. Slide it through the crack of the door and you’re in. Or just climb in through the window above the door. Can’t make it? Just ask your friendly neighbors and they’ll be happy to lend you a ladder. Thieves, of course, have the same idea, and the dorm does get robbed from time to time. There are video surveillance monitors, but keeping watch is also really important. And for unknown reasons, the men’s dormitories have no entrance guard. Anybody can walk in. So around the dorms you can always find taxis or even trucks parked nearby. The dormitories provide a perfect place for drivers to take a shower, watch TV, and read the newspaper. Furthermore, if someone has a place in the dorm but prefers to live outside, he can trade his bed to anyone, as long as they’re not caught by the dorm manager. You could have a taxi driver as a roommate. If you find yourself in this position go for the dorm manager and the illegal residents will be kicked out. Another weird phenomenon is frogs. During a certain period of time, lots of students bring dead frogs back for their homework. They dissect them and then use the bones to reconstruct a frog. During this process some really foul-smelling liquids are used, so at frog time the whole building is filled with this terrible odor. But don’t forget that cats love this delicacy, too, so you’d better protect your frog if you don’t want all your hard work to become dinner for a stray cat. Recently, there’s also the mp3 scandal. Police unexpectedly raided the dorms at National Cheng Kung University to see if there were any “illegal” mp3 files in their computers. Fourteen students’ computers were taken as evidence, and the next day a criminal suit was filed against them. After this, the BBS was full of rumors that the NTU dormitories might be the next victim, so students had to come up with all kinds of techniques to destroy the data or to hide their mp3 files so as not to be found out. These are just a few of the weird things happening in the men’s dorms. Want to experience them for yourself? Want to feel like roast beef in the summer or an eskimo in winter? Find somebody to trade with you and enjoy it! #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Shih Hwa Du
The long anticipated and long necessary gymnasium – resembling a five star sports stadium – is set to open next month and house the next graduation ceremony in June. The NT 1.2 billion nationally funded project took six years to complete. The five levels boast many top-notch facilities, including two restaurants and a coffee shop. From the basement up, this 25,000 square meter complex is a paradise for sports lovers. Basement two is the parking lot. Basement one a 25-meter heated swimming pool, squash courts, weight training, aerobics, judo, and table tennis rooms. The ground floor has multipurpose courts for activities such as handball, soccer, indoor tennis, badminton, and basketball. The second floor contains offices and classroms for administration, lab sessions, and instruction. The third floor contains the center court for major competitions and events. It seats 4500 people and offers first-class facilities up to international standards. Not surprisingly, government funding is insufficient to meet the maintenance costs. Unfortunately, the facilities will have to be fee-based and the management committee has also decided to make the gym open to the public. Classes in aerobics, swimming, and yoga are planned as additional sources of income. However, there are many ways in which students can make use of the new gym for free – take PE classes next semester! Do some volunteer work for a free membership pass or make use of the proposed daily free entry during lunch hour! Plans are still in the works for the membership package. But according to current proposals even if you only want to use the swimming pool, the membership fee includes all other facilities. Exercise and sports is a culture, it is an integral part of life. We are fortunate to have such a spectacular addition to NTU. In a certain respect, it raises our image, it is not just a gym, it is a landmark, next to the library and school bell. The high standard we maintain weighs alongside our academic excellence. We may not realize the correlation, but outsiders do. So make use of it! #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Shawn Kim
The distance from school to my home takes twenty minutes to cover on foot. Usually I walk. I looked at my watch and it was already a quarter past nine. God … sometimes I wish soccer practices didn’t take so much of my time. I complained as I started thinking about this big writing assignment for English class. I caught a cab as soon as I walked out of school. “Dao nail?” the driver asked in Mandarin. “Where are you going?” I gave him my address and began reading the instructions for the writing assignment. Then, I found the essay topic which read Create a fictitious conversation between yourself and an important American (living or deceased). The radio drowned out my guttural moan. I must finish this tonight! Doesn’t any teacher in the English department care that we have the biggest soccer match this weekend again our rival school? The driver had tuned the radio to the only English station here. The newscaster observed: “The North Korean Government rejected a UN Security Council statement, saying that the United States was pushing the crisis into a ‘war situation.’ Two weeks ago, North Korea threatened to turn Seoul into a ‘sea of fire.’” I imagined a sea of fire. Electrons swirling, breaking chemical bonds: all to release power. I moaned. Doesn’t anybody care if a bomb comes my way? “I care.” The taxi driver looked at me and spoke in English. “You do?” “I care more than anybody. I’m Albert Einstein – you can tell by the hair.” “You’re kidding.” “I never kid – not since the Los Alamos test. What can I do to help?” “This is real, right? – well, it doesn’t matter if it isn’t. What do you think power is?” I pressed unbelievingly. “To give life and take it away,” he answered. “The first is the exclusive plaything of the gods. The power to kill … we all share. Some of us prove to be more efficient than others.” He continued. “I have become Death, the shatterer of worlds.” His eyes reflected the hot, orange sun outside the window. The old man had not merely seen death. He was afraid that he had become it. Even if I can finish my essay tonight, I may have to stay up all night to do so. I’m definitely in need of a little empowerment. I pressed: “Do you ever feel guilty – about the bomb, I mean – and Hiroshima?” Nice. So much for empowerment. “No.” He stared hard at me. His eyes twitched. “Yes. No matter, life after death is just that – death.” “I’m a Buddhist,” I asserted. “And I believe people can be born again.” “Anyone who strutted like a prize fighter after learning that a city of 3,000,000 no longer existed would not want rebirth!” “But you’re here!” He whipped the wheel to dodge a city bus careening into the lane. “Alright … since it appears that I’ve become a string of contradictions, perhaps you should be the one helping me.” “Okay, I think it’s like this,” I was a on a roll. “You are alive now because you feed on a guilty conscience. In fact, you are guilty only of not understanding the paradoxical nature of your actions.” He shook his head. “My science helped to build the bomb, and it was what killed hundreds of thousand of people. Where is the paradox in this?” “Because the bomb killed hundreds of thousands of people, because your bombs still threaten the extinction of humanity … life thrives. There is your paradox – you killed to save but did not understand what would endure. Schindler did not start out to become Schindler. I am alive because I know North Korea may send me into orbit. It’s always more important to live by the brighter side of your heart!” The cab pulled over to the curb; he’d brought me home. And Dr. Einstein intoned, “May all the gods and cups of coffee smile upon you!” “Ha! You’re kidding, right?” “I never kid, “ he smiled inscrutably, and voiced thanks in Mandarin: “Xie Xie.” #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Alice Lu
I once owned a new pearl-white bike to take me from class to class. But five months ago it broke, so I pushed it to the shabby, dark bicycle repair center on campus to get it fixed. I showed my bike to one of the old men there, but he didn’t even take out his tools. Instead, he gave me a mean long moan, and stared to reproach me in Taiwanese, which I couldn’t understand at all. I thought he was totally delirious so I scurried away as fast as I could. That day was the end of my bike. I left it somewhere near the LTTC and never touched it again. But one sweating hot day in May, I saw my rusting bike again and told myself that I just couldn’t bear a life without my bike anymore. So it was back to the bike man. But this time I wanted to get their story instead. So here I am back at the repair center, on a Tuesday afternoon with two friends who speak fluent Taiwanese who have agreed to serve as my interpreters. There were four men working at the time, and we found the man in charge and told him that we come from the Department of Foreign Languages and wanted to interview him. “We are very interested in knowing more about you,” I began, “because we appreciate your devotion and think you are very important to the school.” “Did the school send you here?” he replied. “I don’t know much about interviews, and I don’t think we are very important, but you can ask me some questions if you like.” He gave us a shy smile. Mr. Yeh, the boss of the repair center told us that he came to Taida as a staff worker forty years ago. And he’s still there! Mr. Yeh was first employed by the school to take care of the bikes around campus. Forty years ago, there were eight special areas for students and teachers to park their bikes. Things were far more strict then. And what’s more, you needed to ask for a license from Mr. Yeh if you wanted to park it in the bike parking lot. One reason for this was because bikes used to be a luxury for poor students; a new bike cost $NT 200 when the average income for most families was only $NT 300 per month. Therefore, the university hired many people to take care of these costly forms of transportation. But then, twenty years ago, all of a sudden bikes were not extravagant any longer, but frivolous and handy and every student had one. “The parking lots weren’t enough,” Mr. Yeh told us. “So the bike lots were rented out to us to start our own bicycle businesses on campus. Of course there used to be more than just one bike shop, but as time went by, mine is the only one left.” Then I asked him where he learned to fix bikes. I wasn’t sure if he would think this was a stupid question, but he nodded his head as if to say “good question!” “It was in 1945, the year of Taiwan’s Restoration that I started to learn this skill. When Taiwan was still a Japanese colony, all bikes belonged to the Japanese government. Only the aristocracy had the chance to use them.” After the Restoration, when the KMT took over in Taiwan, Japanese residents were forced to go back to Japan. Only a few stayed, and his master was one of them. “I began as an apprentice living in my master’s house. I had to wake up early to sweep the front yard and obey my master’s wishes.” Rough time, I would say. “Worst of all, my master was very moody sometimes.” I was simply transfixed by his story and had no idea what to say next. “I don’t consider my self a lucky man,” Mr. Yeh continued. “I should have learned some other skill that could make more money.” Then Mr. Yeh talked about his impression of students in Taida. He said no matter what generation it is, there are always many kinds of students, both good and bad. “More good ones of course. Students’ lives are simpler than people out in society, and that why we like doing business here, in spite of the lower prices.” By this time it was nearly 1:30 p.m., but people kept coming in to have their bikes fixed. “Did you have lunch yet?” I asked. “Not yet, lunch break is often the busiest time of day if the weather is fine. Our job depends on the weather. If it’s pouring down rain, all we can do is wait and wait and wait for customers.” I didn’t want to keep Mr. Yeh any longer so we thanked him for spending time with us. We also thanked him for devoting his life to the school to give us a hand when we’re in need. And we were impressed that at the age of 70, Mr. Yeh still sticks to his job with all his heart. When we were about to leave, Mr. Yeh’s friend saw me holding a tape recorder, he gasped, “Wow! She’s got a tape recorder, maybe you can ask her to replay it so you can hear your voice!” He wasn’t very interested, but I promised him I would pass on his story to let it be known. When I gazed at my lonely bike once again, I realized it was not just something with two flat tires and an extra basket, but an object that was repaired by hard-working old men sweating in the noonday sun. I will always remind myself that even an ordinary character like Mr. Yeh has a story to tell. And a good one. So I guess I’m taking my bike back there after all! #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Davis Mungatana
Davis Mungatana was born in 1977 in Mombasa. He is from a Bantu tribe called Pokomo on the northern coast of Kenya. He learned English as a second language at Mau Mau Memorial Secondary School, where he wrote for the literary and drama club. This story is a political satire of today’s Africa. The sun is scorching, the hour seems to last forever; maybe a thousand years, but the tired skeleton figure trudges on. She looks young, maybe in her mid-thirties, but has wrinkles carved on her face. Going nowhere in the jungle, not looking back. Sorrow, emptiness, hatred, all painted on her face. Hunger bites her empty stomach, she thinks of the food she had toiled for in the mountains now going to waste. Diseases plucking her followers one by one to everlasting slumber, and the sun glares on. The wind whines, carrying the background sounds of music, the music of death: death by the thunders of fire. Cracking and booming sounds fill the air as the thunder strikes the lives of the innocent: endless red rivers meander in the valleys; rivers of blood, yes, innocent blood. Hoarse cries of anger, anguish, and pain are heard from afar as the devil smiles over his reign. The devil has won: he is now laughing. The storm begins to fade, far in the horizon it vanishes, leaving only the echoes of thunder. No one seems to know how many days it has lasted. The scars vividly seen, the valleys filled with blood. The stench from the rotting corpses in the fields brings memories of hell: she’ll never forget the wounds in the back of her mind, robbing her of the only two things she had – peace and love. This is the end of the trek: few make it. She stops and wonders what to do, staring blankly into the horizon, cursing the devil from the west for creating this storm. She must start again from nothing. Her country is torn to pieces. She, too, is left in ruins, an alien in her own land, a refugee. #Volume 6 Issue 4 By Vovo Chen
This year’s sports meet came on an unexpectedly nice day, windless and hot. It opened with a parade of all the departments at the university – well, not really all of them But the departments that do join all march in high spirits. Among them are students from the Department of Civil Engineering, who carry their trophies proudly, and the Department of Medicine, wearing their white coats. Others carry brightly colored flags. After the parade, a group of dancers decorates the field with their black and red outfits, thus completing the opening ceremony of NTU’s annual sports meet. Next come a series of track and field events which last for two days. The track events include short distance races, long distance races, and a 4000-meter relay race. Field events include high jump, broad jump, javelin throw, discus throw, and shot put. Though the first day swelters, the next day pours with rain – usual for the sports meet. Yet even the weather has not dampened students’ excitement. The most exciting event every year is the 4000-meter relay. Every one has to work and practice hard in order to come out ahead, and there is a long-standing rivalry between students from the Civil Engineering and those from Medicine. The Department of Medicine have won the trophy for the past seven years, and Civil Engineering has always been just a few seconds behind. In order to encourage their students, Civil Engineering teachers offer to pay the students NT 10,000 if they win, and this year they even raised the amount to 20,000. But there was also a scandal this year. At first the Civil Engineering team won, with a huge ten-second lead, but just before the awards ceremony a student from Medicine complained that the Civil Engineering team used an athlete who had already graduated and was present serving in the army. Indeed, the student had a fantastic record on the track team and was immediately recognized by others. As a result, the Civil Engineering team were disqualified, and once again they just barely failed to achieve their goal. But I suppose their spirit is still admirable; everyone worked together to represent their department and that’s what counts. And yet from beginning to end of the competition I looked eagerly for a familiar face from the Department of Foreign Languages. But no one showed up. The department was absent again this year, and indeed no one from the entire College of Humanities seemed to show up. It’s absurd how we don’t participate. When it comes to our drama contest or the senior play, the whole department is always united, but when it comes to sports, where are we? Is there a conflict between literature and sports, or is it because we are a department dominated by female students? We have a remarkable record for drama, speech, and other academic contests, but we should also not ignore events going on around us. I hope next year we can take part, too. #Volume 6 Issue 4 |
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The Taida Student Journal has been active since 1995 with an ever-changing roster of student journalists at NTU. Click the above link to read about the authors Archives
May 2024
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