Star Wars and rediscovering the familiar

By Amanda Knox

When I think about watching Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, I remember cuddling up with my mom and sister in Mom’s big (or so it seemed at the time) bed after popping the VHS into the built-in slot of a chunky, 32” TV perched on her dresser. Warm in our fleece pajamas, we passed between us a freshly microwaved bag of extra-butter popcorn and endlessly sucked on our salty, oil-stained fingertips. After the previews, a conspiratory hush settled, and I tempered my giddy anticipation in order to dutifully recite the opening crawl, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...”

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Life Moves On

By Kyra-lin Hom

One of the most bizarre things about time is its inflexibility. Scientifically speaking, time is relative. It can be distorted by gravity, speed (of light), and scale – shrink down to the quantum level and time as we understand it is meaningless. Yet for all intents and purposes, time for us mundane, mouth-breathing humans is constant. It moves forward at a mercilessly unchanging rate and leaves us with nothing but memories and souvenirs.

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Column-writing and Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Memories of My Melancholy Whores

By Amanda Knox

As I take up the reins of Kyra-lin Hom’s weekly column, I am riding a warm wave of romanticism after reading the story of another columnist of a local paper, albeit a fictional one—the unnamed protagonist of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Memories of My Melancholy Whores.

It is a credit to Marquez that he could inspire a feminist like myself to feel butterflies when the novella’s premise is so repulsive. The opening words are the protagonist’s: “The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.” Standing on the upper landing of the bookstore, pausing in the process of shelving a stack of fiction titles to read this line, my eyebrow rose in the way a cat’s back-fur bristles. “Oh, really…” I thought.

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