lsureveille News Blog

Cancer patients struggle daily through pain, emotional fluctuations and decreased mental alertness. Cancer diagnosis takes it toll on all aspects of the human anatomy and psyche. Studies performed by MIT and Harvard neuroscientists have brought natural treatments to the forefront of cancer news. According to a 2011 study cited by MIT in the Brain Research Bulletin journal, patients who suffer from cancer such as mesothelioma could better handle pain and emotional turmoil with daily meditation. The first main point made by meditation practitioners is that stress decreases healing potential within the body. Therefore, cancer patients have a more difficult time fighting off the effects of the disease itself. By focusing inner energies and thoughts to a specific location on the body, patients can block the pain receptors and decrease discomfort, mentally. As this occurs, thoughts and negative emotions are pushed to the back of the brain, so to speak, and the stress is lifted temporarily.

Imagine the effects of a mesothelioma prognosis on a patient who is otherwise the picture of health. The stages of emotion from grief to acceptance pave the way for a long recovery full of emotional ups and downs. Add the stress of different treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation and you have a recipe for tension. Stress has long been associated with the body’s ability to heal itself. For this reason, committing to a regular meditation routine can help patients cope and increase immune system efficiency. When the immune system is functioning at full potential, the odds of beating cancer increase drastically. According to the Mayo Clinic, meditation also alleviates other negative emotions such as anger and depression that are common in cancer patients.

While it is possible to successfully complete treatment without meditation, secondary symptoms related to an increase in stress hormones can occur. Symptoms include increased blood pressure and a higher risk of heart attack and stroke. Many doctors have begun to recommend meditation in conjunction with cancer treatments to promote a more positive outlook in their patients. Meditation has been proven to increase the amount of alpha waves that are present in the brain’s cortex, according to MIT. These alpha waves suppress negative emotions by decreasing the sensory distraction in the brain such as worry and tension. Alpha waves also help with sensations such and pain and tingling. In general, the higher the alpha waves the stronger the pain threshold. Because of this study, further research into the effects of meditation and cancer are forthcoming, as scientists delve into the effects of the brain on cancer symptoms.

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Kathy Clark, guest blogger

Fourth grade was a momentous time; multiplication tables, my first girlfriend and an awesome rock-climbing birthday. Rock climbing holds a special place in my heart as there are few birthdays I recollect more clearly than my tenth birthday party.

What’s a cooler theme for a ten-year-old’s birthday than letting them climb all over stuff without getting in trouble? Nothing. So I had my birthday party at a local indoor climbing gym. It was a momentous occasion, my friends and I had a blast learning how to climb and repel on walls that reached 20 feet into the air.

The satisfaction I gathered from reaching the top of the wall for the first time was immense. One of the things I love about climbing is how simple it is. A climber has one objective, get to the top of that wall/rock-face using the right hand holds. Once a climber has reached the intended summit, their goal is accomplished. Perhaps I am oversimplifying the activity, but it is gratifying to be able to put a concrete beginning and end to an accomplishment in my opinion.

I am also of the opinion that rock climbers are awesome people. Since my childhood birthday, I have not met a climber I dislike. Interviewing climbers for my latest article has only reinforced my idea that rock climbers rock (OK, you knew the pun was coming sooner or later).

Perhaps it’s common traits among climbers that I find agreeable but one thing is for certain, the UREC SRC climbing gym will be seeing more of me in the future. And I will be the same excited ten-year-old boy climbing that wall.

Josh Naquin
Staff Writer

My grandfather, Mark Snellgrove came to LSU in 1958 as an 18-year-old freshman from Plaquemine. Throughout my childhood, he told me countless stories of his time at LSU and of LSU football.

He celebrated the National Championship victory with his classmates at a bonfire atop the Indian Mounds. He watched firsthand as Billy Cannon rumbled his way into the end zone and the history books against Ole Miss.

And in 1960, he lived in Tiger Stadium.

My grandfather’s room was in the Tiger Stadium South residence hall. None of the rooms had air-conditioning. As a result, the windows to the room were always opened and the all-male occupants would immediately “strip down to their skivvies and flip-flops,” to keep from over-heating.

Instead of resident assistants, rectors supervised halls. He said his rector embraced his duties more fully than others.

As an officer in the ROTC program, this rector was always in uniform and would march down the hall for his impromptu room inspections. The rector was given a key to all student rooms and would walk at any time unannounced. Untidy residents were reprimanded with “sloppy slips.” Three citations could mean a trip to the Dean of Men and a suspension from school. Serious offenses, such as having a beer in one’s room, led to immediate expulsion.

The only warning of an inspection residents had was the click of the rector’s shoes as he marched down the hallway.

My grandfather would often hop into his unmade bed and pretend to nap to avoid being cited for keeping a messy room. The rector would barge into the room, halt and turn on his heel before inspecting the area.

No one in the hall liked the rector, my grandfather said.

My grandfather recalled an incident between the rector and three students from the same neighborhood in New Orleans who lived in larger room at the end of the hall.

“Paul, they were tough, but they were very serious about their studies,” he said. “They came from a rough neighborhood and were determined to better themselves and move up in the world.”

After the last day of final exams, most of the residents had left for the holidays, but the three boys from New Orleans, the rector, my grandfather and a few other residents remained.

The boys from New Orleans, who mostly kept to themselves, quietly shared a six-pack in their room to celebrate the end of the semester. My grandfather said he would have never known they had beer in the room.

Beer was technically prohibited in dorm rooms, but in most cases the policy was loosely enforced. The rector on my grandfather’s floor in Tiger Stadium South was the exception.

After an unannounced room inspection, the rector found the empty six-pack in the students’ room and loudly confronted the three roommates. He told them they would be expelled from the University by the morning, and he confiscated the empty bottles.

In the middle of the night, the entire hall was woken up by a series of deafening bangs and the smell of smoke. In the hall, smoke was billowing from the transom above the rector’s door. Someone had thrown a handful of lit cherry bombs through the rector’s door.

All the students were in the hall except the three boys from New Orleans.

The rector burst through his door without his usual uniform. His glasses were askew, as he looked around the hall for someone to accuse. After a moment of hesitation, the rector walked back into his room and picked up the six-pack. He placed it by the New Orleanians’ door at the end of the hall, and barked at the students in the hall to go back to bed.

When he finished his story, my grandfather chuckled and said, “It was a little bit of frontier justice. I guess that doesn’t happen anymore.”

And I think RAs and administrators in every residence hall on campus are thankful for that.

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Paul Braun, Contributing Writer

It seems like an oxymoron, but that’s exactly what strategists, scholars and pundits tried to do on Tulane’s campus Wednesday. The Bipartisan Policy Center held it’s Third Annual Political Summit, and the main focus of all of the panels was how to get Washington from gridlocked to easy driving in both directions.

Famous Democratic strategist James Carville and Republican strategist and adviser Mary Matalin co-hosted the summit

Panelists from both sides of the aisle agreed that something needed to be done. Sometimes they all wanted the same solutions, but most of the time, the left and the right didn’t latch on to the same idea.

These talks did ask important questions, though.

Does the solution for agreeable politics come from the electorate or the elected? How can we fix problems with reapportionment and gerrymandering? How can Americans ask for a cohesive Congress when moderates are being ousted by populist fringes within their own parties?

As an observer, it was a lot to absorb. I know I’m not the most representative of my demographic — the absent, uninformed 18- to 25-year-olds — but I found much of the summit pretty interesting… in theory.

It’s great that there are organizations like the BPC putting together reports and holding summits about how we need to work together to make solutions. I love that people are finally learning the difference between debating issues and fighting. But what did this summit actually achieve?

A day off for many New Orleanians and some skipped classes for a handful of students.

New Orleans mayor Mitch Landrieu laid it out best in his opening remarks — theory doesn’t cut it anymore. We need real programs with tangible results. Cut budgets (with a scalpel, not a bandsaw), trim down government (so it is efficient and accountable) and increase revenue (invest in government).

There’s only one question that needs to be answered.

Who will step up and act?

Mary Matalin (far right) introduces a panel set to discuss the changing demographics setting the stage for the elections in 2012.

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Marissa Barrow, managing editor of external media

Saturday afternoon, I was pumped. I usually don’t get excited for football, but today was different. Dressed in gold and ready to go, I had to make one little detour before meeting my friends for the game.

As I entered the Union Theater, I chose a seat near the center and sat down. The Indian Student Association was hosting its most important event of the year – UTSAV. The show, as I understood it, was going to involve Indian dances, a play, a band and, of course, lots of music.

I watched in awe as men, women and children decked out in brightly-colored outfits and adorned in gold jewelry and headpieces made their way up and down the aisles, mingling with their friends and grabbing last-minute props for their performances. And for a moment, I felt out of place.

I slumped down in my chair with my notebook, trying to be invisible and hoping nobody would notice the girl with the blue jeans and curly hair. However, as the MCs greeted the audience and the show began with the first dance, I felt welcomed.

I saw adults and children dance and a band sing in Hindi, introducing me to a culture I was not familiar with. When the audience cheered and the excitement heightened during an act, I began to realize that I was not so different from those who sat around me. Though others were not speaking the same language as I, we were alike in the things we laughed at and cheered for.

The point of the event was not to separate Indian culture from others; the University students and Indian members of the community were there to share it. I left the program feeling satisfied that I was more knowledgeable than I was before I awoke that morning.

Hours later, as I was seated on the crowded porch at Buffalo Wild Wings screaming for my team, I was in the midst of what I had experienced just moments earlier. People, regardless of age, race, and background, were clad in purple and gold uniting as a whole to root for something we were all a part of.

Fans were high-fiving others even if they did not know them. Many joining together to partake in the same culture, and, of course, always willing to share it with others.

Guess we’re not so different after all.

Juliann Allen
Contributing Writer

Growing up, my best friend since birth always promised I would be her maid of honor. However, I never dreamed I would be carrying out these “MOH” duties at the young age of 20. I nearly cried when she told me she was engaged. Tears of joy and sorrow filled my eyes as flashbacks of the two of us playing house and making houses for our imaginary friends racked my brain.
The day came to pick out the bridesmaid’s dresses. I happily ordered my dress which fit perfectly to my toned body, not thinking ‘hey, in order to still look good in this dress, you have to keep up your normal workout.” Well finals came and that was just too hectic to find time to work out. Summer began and I told myself I needed a break from intense exercise.
Then, July came. I left for Europe to study abroad without a care in the world. During the trip I filled up on beer, jelly-filled donuts (hey it’s European jelly at least), pizza and lots of bread.
All was fine and dandy until I came back home. I could barely button my favorite jeans. I knew I was in trouble. Thoughts of the bridesmaid’s dress rushed through my conscience and I got weak. What if the dress didn’t fit me anymore?
But I shook the thoughts off, thinking I have plenty of time to lose the extra pounds. Until the day of a group dress fitting with the bride’s tailor. It got real. Eventually, I got the dress on, but couldn’t breathe.
The wife-to-be’s mom suggested I buy Spanx. My mom said there’s some seams we can let out. No. I am determined to do this the old-fashioned way. I am applying the quote from Bride Wars to my life, “You do not alter Vera to fit you, you alter yourself to fit Vera.” But in my life it would say, “I will not alter David’s Bridal, I will alter myself to fit David.”
After interviewing Chase Petit Monday, I’ve been reinvigorated to achieve what seems to be the impossible! My goal is to lose as much weight as possible between now and the wedding date, in a healthy way of course. I plan to run, bike and Zumba my way back to physical fitness. In regards to my diet, I’ll take some tips from Petit: no white bread or white rice, no fast food, sweets in moderation, lots of veggies and fruits as snacks. So far I’ve run three days in a row and my body is in pain. It should get interesting…
Best friend‘s wedding: November 26.

Mission weight loss began: October 31.

Remaining days: 24.

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Claire Caillier, Contributing Writer

If there was one thing that fascinated me  most about writing an article about Judaism, it was the Jewish community’s ability to build and maintain.  Despite being in different locations, they still manage to work together to practice their religious customs.  They just seemed to all be on the same page.

 I also haven’t been to a synagogue since middle school when I attended a funeral.  Beth Shalom’s set up is really interesting and was designed after the building was damaged during Katrina. I’ve never seen a place of worship like this. The pews are arranged around a center position where the Rabbi speaks, and a stain glass door  protects the Torahs. 

The Torahs are large and elaborate and respect surrounds their every aspect.  I had no idea how much effort and caution goes into creating and using them. They’re all hand written on huge sheets of parchment, and if a mistake is made, the page must be re-written. Everyone stands when the Torah is being held, and they’re elaborately adorned for the different religious periods.  Each one seemed so unique and interesting; they might be the most ornate religious texts I’ve ever seen.

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Austen Krantz, Contributing Writer