Max Turnacioglu

Hey Wait Just One Second: Birds

I suffer from ornithophobia — the fear of birds. It is my daily affliction and eternal curse. Every time a pigeon or goose lunges towards me, I cower away from their dastardly attacks. I imagine that I can see the unbridled malice in their little, beady eyes. This fear does not stem from lived experience — although I believe that some seagulls were very close to murdering me for a sandwich in Dublin if I hadn’t fled and saved myself — but rather a propensity to fear that which is different. Birds, to me, are uncomfortably different.

Student feedback boards facilitate dining hall democracy

“BRING BACK LEMONADE,” “FRIES BETTER THAN IN-AND-OUT, FIRE BROWNIE” and “Rice Please!! just rice” — these are just a few of the handwritten notes plastered across the comment board in Dewick-Macphie Dining Center, directly adjacent to the dishwasher carousel. To many students, this bulletin board has served as an untapped outlet for expression, an evolving tapestry of jokes and doodles. To others, it is a serious forum for discussion — a cork agora of sorts to ruminate on the most sublime successes and catastrophic failures of Tufts Dining. And the rest? Well, they just want rice.

Mini Crossword: Intro to Spanish

Hey Wait Just One Second: The Powder Alarm of 1774

Boston is a city of stories. The regal names of squares and streets, the faded bronze plaques nestled within brick facades, the rivers decussating its low hills; Boston is a composite of many, many stories. Once I began to notice the whispered stories etched into the cobblestones beneath my wayward feet, I could not help but find that my whole world was suffusedwith like whisperings. There is the story of my life — the narrative of my perception and those who vie for control of it — and there is the rich, boundless story of my world. And one, invariably, speaks to the other.

Hey Wait Just One Second: Hearts

I ❤️ you. This confession is quite audacious — indeed, I may hardly know you beyond your proclivity for consuming great journalism. Nonetheless, I hope my love may entice you to continue reading because I find such an admission remarkable, despite its forward attitude.

Hey Wait Just One Second: Snakes

Sssss hassss hissss. Yes, I’m fluent in Parseltongue, and no, it’s notjustbecause I’m a super powerful wizard. I’m fully embracing the Year of the Snake by emulating the humble critter that has so brilliantly captivated every major cultural tradition. In fact, I would venture to say that there is not a single animal with such a potent, visceral connotation as the snake, which demands myths upon myths, inspiring our collective fear, revulsion and delight at all things serpentine.

Hey Wait Just One Second: Snowmen

My Crocs lost purchase on the vestal slurry carpeting the sidewalk. One foot slid forward while the other slid back, and I felt the entirety of my life with functioning hip abductors flash before my eyes. I was too young to strain a muscle walking in the snow and way too old to successfully hit the splits. Snow had descended upon Tufts and I was not prepared.

Hey Wait Just One Second: Wonder

This column is sponsored by wonder. Use promo code “HWJOS” at checkout to get 10% more annoying every time you start telling your friends about something random and beautiful you noticed the other day.

Hey Wait Just One Second: Sunday comics

Almost every Sunday, I used to strip. Of course, I mean this in the comic sense — that is, I comic stripped. Clad in pajamas, bedraggled and in desperate need of orange juice, I pored over the funny pages. These were literal pages in my youth, but later were the webpages of The Washington Post. Over Thanksgiving break, I observed the remnants of this weekly routine: Tomes and volumes of comic strips still litter my room, including the complete “Calvin and Hobbes,” “The Far Side” and “Garfield.”Moreover, the catalogue of “Peanuts” holiday specials continue to hold cultural sway over many Americans, including myself, bizarrely relishing the pathetic lamentations of Charlie Brown as he mopes through every festivity. As this print medium enjoys its tragic decline, among its brethren in physical artwork, where do the comics still lie in our consciousness? Is this goodbye, Charlie Brown?

Hey Wait Just One Second: Eyes

Look me in my eyes. Admittedly, this may be quite an ask, given that through this newspaper column, my identity is somewhat abstract. If you could look into my eyes, maybe they really would tell the full story. Eye contact improves cognition and attention, after all. For the time being, please look me in my Is, as I elucidate that endlessly entrancing, palindromic organ: the eye.