To a windowless, musty, dirty, rowdy Kerckhoff 118, otherwise known as the Daily Bruin newsroom,
This is a love letter to a place I’m not supposed to be.

Our city’s sidewalks are crumbling, and with them, my faith in the Los Angeles City Council.
More than 40 years after it said it would repair our buckled, tree-damaged sidewalks, and almost two months after it agreed in an Americans with Disabilities Act case to spend $1.4 billion to fix them, the city is now recommending commercial property owners repair their sidewalks by themselves.

In the big, bad real world, there are no “safe spaces” – at least, that’s what the media has been warning college students lately.
From The New York Times to Time, columnists have been condescendingly slamming college safe spaces for “coddling” and “infantilizing” our hypersensitive generation by letting students avoid uncomfortable truths.

Three years and four months sober, first-year psychology student Marissa Ericson still wakes up in the middle of the night from the same recurring dream of shooting up heroin, a drug she has never touched.

Most of my first friendships at UCLA were consolidated in the dorms, sprawled across Rendezvous-stained couches in the floor lounge or losing badly at pool in the recreation rooms.

I wasted a lot of my time at college feeling patronized – not for what I studied, but for what I didn’t study.
For a while, being an English student – and not a science, technology, engineering or mathematics student as most of my friends were – meant that it was okay to be called “stupid” if I couldn’t pronounce some obscure science vocabulary.

Ever since I downloaded Yik Yak, I have been searching for a reason to delete it.
In the last few months, “riding the Yak” has become routine for me – partly in search of a laugh, but mostly in search of the one racist, sexist, bigoted or outright hateful post that would be my breaking point.

Carolanne Link, a second-year electrical engineering student with cerebral palsy, spends roughly two hours every day riding the UCLA Office for Students with Disabilities van, but when she looks around at her co-passengers, she said, she can’t tell what each person is dealing with.

This myth goes all the way back to the elementary school playground: Men are from Mars and women are from Venus.
We’re in college now, but variations of this gender divide just keep on coming.

If the university is going to make employees divulge information about their friends and colleagues, the least it could do is give up some of its own.