Michelle B. Timmerman
Today the internet has a message for you, college students, and it is this: today's hottest social media channels are weapons, and they can and will be used against you (#you). And when they are, writers of well-read blogs will chronicle it and preserve it for posterity. This includes Flyby. This is a public service announcement, then, and it is in brief. If you are going to use the internet, use it wisely. There are many rules, and these are four:
In 2013, you will probably have a lot of questions about love. These should be five of them: 1. If Ivy Leaguers are refuting The End of Courtship, are they endorsing The End of Empircal Reasoning? 2. Which came first: The End of Courtship, or The End of Men? 3. Was The End of Men before The End of Sex? 4. Would you rather The End of Sex With Men before Courtship, or The End of Courtship with Men before Sex? 5. Is it a coincidence that, as we are battered with The Ends of Everything Sexy, we can turn manically and trustingly to The Beginning of Second Season of "Girls"?
With a tongue in cheek and pinky in air, FM presents to you our final issue of the year, plein de P.R.E.P. in which even our dogs are dapper-ly decked. Check out Kayla, a preppy puppy puggle who is just as into repetition as we are. Jury's out on how she feels about alliteration. If she doesn't agree, though, we'll just wait 15 years.
The subway, the train, the T, the underground, the metro, the tube-whatever you call it, it's how we get around. Boston's happens to be the first, and when one has the world's most ancient subway system, it's easy to dismiss it as old news. But the MBTA has a big birthday this year, and it deserves its rightful centennial celebration. For the week, we played "I Spy." This is what we saw.
The subway, the train, the T, the underground, the metro, the tube-whatever you call it, it's how we get around. Boston's happens to be the first, and when one has the world's most ancient subway system, it's easy to dismiss it as old news. But the MBTA has a big birthday this year, and it deserves its rightful centennial celebration. FM's editors took our Saturdays and Sundays and made our way to the far reaches of the lines. Some of us went for a walk. One of us went home. For some, inspiration struck in liquids of varying kinds. Oil and water, you could say. Or ink and gin. For others, it turns out the T is a deeply personal affair, even if it's one that's easily eavesdropped upon. Moral of the story? Go somewhere. If the T stops, don't groan. Find the end of the line. When you're reentering HarvardSquare, if you're going outbound, look out your right window; find the gnome, the abandoned station it marks, For the week, we played "I Spy." This is what we saw.