Last weekend, I was convinced (read: dragged) to go out by a high school friend who was in town. So I left the comfort of my stuffed-animal-filled bed and put aside my sacred 9 p.m. bedtime to go out on the town and relive my undergraduate days for one night only.

After a quick round of introductions and about twenty names I immediately forgot, our group ended up at a bar in Fells Point. When my friend went to use the restroom, I found myself waiting for a drink at the bar with one of those new strangers. It turns out, they were the type to skip past all the small talk and get right to the details. Before even asking for my name, they turned to me and asked for my deepest darkest secret. And when they refused my attempts at a neutral, shallow answer, I was forced to divulge a real piece of myself. For a socially-anxious introvert like myself, this sounds like my worst nightmare. Yet, the experience was strangely freeing.

Fully convinced that I would never see this stranger again, I found my usual walls falling away as I shared an honest, unfiltered part of myself. In the end, I spent a lovely evening talking openly with a stranger, without fear, and for once, letting myself be seen.

The fact is, it is easy to be brave with someone you will never see again. If the conversation turned awkward, I always had the option to walk away. The lack of their concrete connections to my life mollified the terror that accompanied true vulnerability.

Looking back, many of my friendships do in fact start out like this; a chance encounter that evolves into something intentional. Yet, the second they become a friend, something shifts. Too often, I find myself hiding behind shallow small talk, behind carefully curated masks I display to others. As my brain sees it, I now have something to lose. There are now long-term social consequences to my actions. Ramifications for the truths I tell. With new stakes, I desperately try to maintain the status quo and stick with what works. I try to freeze the friendship in its current familiarity, but in the process I draw the shutters on the real person who drew them in in the first place.

In reality, true friendships aren't constant. They can't be. And yes, this does mean that they fade sometimes, but it also means that they change and grow. They are dynamic like the rough, imperfect people that make them up. Plateaus feel stable, but in reality stagnation suffocates friendships.

Moreover, as my friends become familiar, I feel as if the permission to ask deep, probing questions disappears. I assume I know the person they are

Yet the friends I appreciate the most are the friends who ask me questions that I don't know the answers to right away. The kinds that make me think, and elicit an answer from me that I didn't know I had. We stop being "curious" about the people we've spent enough time with, or with whom we believe we are close enough to. Even when, usually, that's far from the truth - there is so much left unknown and unshared. Sometimes because they don't mention it, other times simply because we haven't bothered to ask.

Instead, we should treat our friends like strangers. We should stay curious. We should get to know them with the excitement of someone new. We should share ourselves without fear.

In the meantime, maybe brief connections with strangers is okay for now. Perhaps opening up to strangers is just the first step. So I will continue to work and patiently wait for the day when I can finally muster the courage to let myself be seen in my full capacity. Until then, I will keep finding beauty in getting to know strangers at bars, in corners at parties and in line at coffee shops.

Jason Chang is a graduate student from Woodbury, Minn. studying Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering. His column is a celebration of the quiet moments that linger amid the jumble of our busy lives: moments of stillness, reflection and a space to just exist.

In the midst of the crowded Rec Center, there is one place that contrasts the noise of running treadmills, shoes squeaking on the court and weights clanging together: the pool. To find it, you must head downstairs, past the weight rooms, where you will find a narrow hallway that will lead you to it. As you enter, the scent of chlorine will greet you instantly, as if you've walked through a portal to another world. You'll hear the sound of water dancing, an ambience so different from the rest of the rec.

Just the simple smell of chlorine brings back so many memories of when I was competitively swimming. When I first learned how to swim, I instantly fell in love with being in the water. There is just something so freeing about it. Simply floating for a few seconds can somehow make all the difference, relaxing your body, releasing all tension and making the whole world go silent. I also distinctly remember "playing mermaids" with my friends - we would wear fins and kick through the water with our legs together to mimic swimming with tails.

Seeing how happy being in the water made me, my parents decided to let me try competitive swimming, and so that is what I did from childhood to the end of high school. However, I soon realized that I wouldn't always feel like a mermaid in the water.

As a competitive swimmer, I would have 4 a.m. morning practice, and then proceed to eat breakfast in the car while my mother drove me straight to school. Or I'd head straight to practice after a long, draining day of classes. Some days, I would even have to do both.

I definitely got used to the rhythm of things, but even then, jumping into a freezing cold pool, somehow forcing myself to pull and kick faster, never got any easier when I was already mentally and physically exhausted. My association of the pool as this relaxing atmosphere that allowed my imagination and creativity to flow was soon struck down by a wave of stress and frustration.

The competitive component of competitive swimming became more transparent as I grew and got faster, and I was constantly pushing myself to the limit to beat the clock. Every millisecond counts as a swimmer, and I would be grateful if I even had five seconds of rest to breathe at the wall during a sprint set. Nonetheless, despite how impossibly difficult it could seem to kick and pull when all the lactic acid made my whole body burn and resist movement, I always ended up in a better state of mind after swimming.

After completing a tough practice, there was no comparable feeling to taking your cap and goggles off and doing a dunk in the water, letting all your hair flow in unity. The first breath you take, the moment you reach the surface, is by far the most calming and rejuvenating. It seems that the water washed away all my problems, or at least made them seem smaller than before.

I remember learning about Maslow's hierarchy of needs in psychology, which basically explains how we don't think about our deepest desires until our basic needs are met. Amid a hard swimming set, when I can feel the fatigue and the need to grasp for air, all I can think about is taking that next breath and taking that next stroke. I am not thinking about the plethora of organic chemistry mechanisms I need to remember or the fact that I still am not entirely sure what career I want to pursue in life. All these problems and stressors that I came to the pool with either fade or lessen when I leave.

Now that I am no longer competitively swimming, I am not obligated to go to practice, but I do somehow miss that obligation. It kept me accountable, and now I must rely on my own discipline. Sometimes, I'll go for a swim at 12 p.m., in between a morning and late afternoon lecture, or I'll go in the evening after all my classes and activities are finished. Ultimately, no matter how tired and unwilling to get in the water I may be, I know the aftermath of it is too good to miss out on.

Catherine Chan is a freshman studying Molecular and Cellular Biology Potomac, Md. She is a Social Media Manager for The News-Letter. Her column consists of reflections on various moments in her life, from the distant past to the current present, in pursuit of discovering the underlying impact they have on her life's story.

When I was twelve, I wrote a children's book called What's In My Lunchbox? for my sixth-grade English class, which detailed the origins of a B.L.T. sandwich, an apple juice box and a bag of potato chips. As I put together drawings of a little ant crawling his way through the genesis of my lunch, I learned that Mott's apple juice is bottled in my home state of New York, that the potato chip factories often throw away entire truckloads of potatoes if too many are found to be blemished and that the crispy bacon in my sandwich was produced in a massive industrialized farming facility run almost entirely by an underpaid migrant workforce. My book was celebrated with many prestigious literary awards (check pluses, gold stars...). I became a vegetarian shortly afterwards.

Yesterday, I was scrolling on TikTok and came across the type of content that is normally an instant skip for me: a "street interview"-style video, this particular one set in a college library. When asked about her "hot take" by the interviewer, one woman declared that "men's views on tofu directly reflect their views on women." The interviewer - a man, of course - immediately shut her down, but she proceeded to explain her take, which I want to use my lunchbox children's book experience to expand upon. She explains that tofu is at the forefront of many environmental campaigns for veganism, and that meat and the fossil-fuel capitalism that drives its production are often linked to traditional ideas of masculinity, hence why so many men ridicule me when I tell them for the eighth time that I do not eat steak (sorry to my cousins, I still love you guys). The woman closes by letting the interviewer know that most foods are political, and I could not agree more. I think that everything is political, including and maybe most of all food.

In my sophomore year Theory and Methods course for the Medicine, Science, and the Humanities major, my brilliant professor was always reiterating the idea that "everything is situated somewhere." By that she means, a sandwich is never just a sandwich. It is bread, mayonnaise, bacon, lettuce and tomato. It is farms and factories and farms-turned-factories. It is poor working conditions and immigration policies and food waste. You cannot eat a sandwich without thinking about where it comes from - everything is situated somewhere. By these principles, we cannot think about tofu inside of a vacuum where it exists as tofu alone. Tofu is also the growing popularity of non-meat protein alternatives, the backlash to such campaigns for environmentally-conscious eating, the association of veganism with femininity and also sometimes with weakness.

To clarify, you do not have to like tofu or stop eating bacon to be considered someone who cares about their community and the environment, or to be considered a feminist. I bring up my sixth-grade picture book not to argue and divide, but as a reminder that foods (and most other things) have a history worth learning about, and that if we are made uncomfortable by someone else's dietary choices, or by the politics of ours, we should turn inwards rather than deflect negativity onto others. I do not think that men who don't like tofu hate women, but I do think that men who are theatrically disgusted by tofu and the women who eat it have some learning to do!

My lunchbox has gotten heavier since sixth grade. Alongside the sandwich, the chips and the juice box I now carry the heavy knowledge that every choice I make has roots and ripple effects: a history and an origin of production, a contribution to climate change and gender politics and fair labor practices and the ICE raids. I want to eat like a feminist, like an environmentalist, like a compassionate and thoughtful and well-educated human being. I want tofu to be for everyone, not as a literal soy-based protein, but as a call to remove gendered labels from food and practices of care, and to accept the politics of everything not as a source of anxiety, but as a call to education and action. If it's true that you are what you eat, maybe we should all take a look at the stories tucked behind mom's lunchbox note.

Hailey Finkelstein is a junior from Ardsley, N.Y. majoring in Medicine, Science and the Humanities. Her column shares miscellaneous prose on current issues, the collective Hopkins experience and growing up with a pen in hand.

For two hours, participants were able to visit the infamous Pickle Oracle (junior Kris Pham reading tarot, donning a pickle costume), four other tarot reading stations, view a hand-drawn 18th-century tarot deck beside a cyber deck and embellish their love letters with calligraphy and hot wax seals. To top it all off, a cherry Squishmallow was the main prize of a ticket raffle.

Katrin Flores, a freshman, enjoyed the card station the most. In an interview with The News-Letter, Flores expressed her appreciation for the event.

"This event has been really fun so far," said Flores. "Because the line [looked] so long, I went over to the craft room. They had a lot of supplies and these little calligraphy pens that I can't quite get the hold of, but look how cute the seal is! I made [a card] just for my family."

Further, when asked what Flores was most looking forward to that night, she immediately answered with the tarot readings.

"I've never gotten a tarot reading before, so it'll be interesting," Flores smiled.

Finnigan Keane, a Special Collections sophomore staff member and an Archeology and Environmental Studies double major, greeted participants at the door and shared some of the history behind tarot in an interview with The News-Letter.

"There are a lot of decks and tarot used to be a very patriarchal system centered around the Catholic Church. Over time, it became radicalized and is now this emblem for feminist and queer identities," said Keane, who is doing research on tarot's cultural transformations and its significance in 21st century society.

According to the Victoria & Albert Museum, the 78 tarot cards are broken down into two categories: triumph, or "Major Arcana" (22 cards) and pip, or "Minor Arcana" (56 cards). Prior to fortune-telling and tarot divination in the 18th century, the cards were originally played out of fun. The origins of the cards trace back to China, Korea, Egypt and India in the early 12th century, and it wasn't until the 1770s that tarot cards were read for divination.

Heidi Herr is the librarian at Special Collections and coordinator behind Love in the Time of Tarot. According to Herr, the hope behind events like these would be for students to have some fun and show them the reading room space.

"Students are really interested in tarot, and it's an opportunity to showcase our historic tarot decks. And we like to also combine these readings with kind of fun, craft events, too, so you can create, you can get your reading and then make a DIY Valentine. So, we just love having fun with students and bringing them into this incredible reading room space," said Herr.

Highlights of the night included a tarot reading relating to pizza and a terrible set of cards that came with a silver lining.

"I was saying that I could do a [past, present, future] kind of reading. [Someone] was like, 'Could you do, like, a past, present, future about my relationship with pizza?' and I was like, why not?" said Celine Stodder, a Writing Seminars sophomore.

Participants could request their readings to be interpreted with respect to any area in life, notwithstanding the event being centered around love. Herr loved how career-oriented most of her tarot reading requests were.

"What I absolutely loved is how you cannot take the Hopkins out of Hopkins students. So the event was called 'Love in the Time of Tarot,' and most of the readings I gave, were to do with academics or career growth. And I just love that," Herr laughed.

By 9 p.m., the raffle winner was announced, students shuffled out with ornate envelopes and the event rounded to a close. The Special Collections team shared highlights while packing up the tarot decks.

"Truly, the two hours flew by like nothing. So that's how I know I had a good time," said Pham.

The next Special Collections event is their annual Edible Book Festival, "Read It and Eat It," on March 30 at the Glass Pavilion. Students can follow @jhuspecialcollections on Instagram for more information.

This Friday, director Vanessa Caswill will return from her Netflix original film Love at First Sight (2023) with another romance feature film. This time, she works with stars Maika Monroe and Tyriq Withers in order to bring to life an adaptation of Colleen Hoover's 2022 novel. In the movie, Kenna Rowan fights to reconnect with her young daughter Diem after being released from prison, but she seems to find the whole world against her. That is, until Ledger, a bar owner and Diem's father figure, begins to connect with Kenna. If you're looking for a heart-wrenching dark romance, then make sure to give Reminders of Him a shot.

Following this warmhearted trend, Rebecca Serle's Once and Again is sure to tug at the most yearnful parts of your heart this week! Mixing fantastic matrilineal time-reversing powers with the crushing mundanity of realism, Serle crafts a perfect storm for her main character Lauren Novak to fall back in love with her childhood heartbreak, Stone. Read along as Lauren slips back into her childhood habits and begins reflecting on the events of her life.

Well known in the hip-hop and R&B scenes for his spacey, atmospheric production style and heavenly falsetto, James Blake continues to cement himself as an alternative R&B giant with each passing album. His next album will undoubtedly find James Blake at his best yet again, with both singles (Death of Love and I Had a Dream She Took My Hand) absolutely oozing the ethereality that makes Blake cuts so special. If you're a fan of psychedelic musical landscapes, make sure to find your best pair of headphones, close your eyes and get lost in the vibe this Friday with Trying Times!

What is a film? How should they work? If you feel comfortable with your answers, then you might find the University's Film and Media Studies department's showing of experimental films from Phil Solomon and Robert Schaller to be eye-opening. If you walk in with an open mind to the haunting, abstract techniques of the two filmmakers' cinematography, then you just might leave with a brand new outlook, not just on films, but on the universe and your body's place within it.

If none of these picks piqued your interest, don't worry! Plenty more is happening week than just our four top picks, so make sure to check out the extended list of suggestions below:

To watch…

• Reminders of Him, directed by Vanessa Caswill - March 13
• The Gates, directed by John Burr - March 13
• Saipan, directed by Lisa Barros D'Sa & Glenn Leyburn - March 13
• Undertone, directed by Ian Tuason - March 13
• Scared to Death, directed by Paul Boyd - March 13

To read…

• Once and Again, by Rebecca Serle - March 10
• Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!, by Liza Minnelli - March 10
• The First Step, by Tao Wong - March 10
• The Wings That Bind, by Briar Boleyn - March 10
• Psycho Beasts, by Jasmine Mas - March 10

To listen…

• Trying Times, by James Blake - March 13
• Miami Lice: Season Four, by Lice (Aesop Rock & Homeboy Sandman) - March 10
• Dying Is the Internet, by Simo Cell & Abdullah Miniawy - March 12
• Into Oblivion, by Lamb of God - March 13
• Play Me, by Kim Gordon - March 13

Live events…

• Embodied Visions: Films from Phil Solomon and Robert Schaller - March 11, 7:30 p.m. at 2640 St. Paul Street
  • This event is free.
• From Mistakes to Meaning Book Launch with Michael Lynton and Josh Steiner - March 11, 5:30-6:30 p.m. at Johns Hopkins University Bloomberg Center at 555 Pennsylvania Avenue
  • Registration is required. This event is free.
• Friday Night Movie at the BSC - Bugonia - March 13, 6:00-8:30 p.m. at Bloomberg Student Center
  • This event is free.
• Lunch with the Libraries & Museums - Reimagining Eisenhower Library - March 12, 12:00-1:00 p.m. online
  • This event is free.
• Eat The Cake Band + Femi and the Foundation w/ Night Walks - March 13, 7:00 p.m. at Metro Baltimore
  • Tickets are $15 each.

The novelty of the freshman year roommate, movie nights with the whole friend group huddled together on a twin double XL, the noisy neighbors down the hall; the quintessential college experience is incomplete without living on campus. There's something so enticing about dorm life. Yes, my friends had a mouse for a roommate for the better part of freshman year. And yes, my roommate and I were living in the equivalent of a sauna when our thermostat broke sophomore year. But it's the chaos of dorm life that makes it such an integral part of being at college.

For students who look to the University for support with residential life, whether it's due to affordability or desire for a community, it seems justified for university housing to be guaranteed for all four years. On the surface, university housing is convenient. Whether it's safety, maintenance, or dorm facilities, living on campus means one less burden to worry over when you're studying for three midterms simultaneously. But at its core, residential life is a community. I miss living a few doors down from my closest friends or meeting Kim, the nightshift Char Mar worker, on our midnight runs for Taharka ice cream. Going from Commons, my sophomore-year dorm, to my junior-year apartment marked the transition of going from a college student to a college adult. Walking to class together, spirit brunch at FFC and bumping into your friends in the hallway were things I took for granted as an underclassman.

There's this charm about university housing that just can't be replicated anywhere else. The shared experience of brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the girl to your right is crying over her last exam while the girl to your left is getting ready for a night out with her friends is about as college as it gets.

Beyond the loss of community, living off campus comes with its fair share of hidden costs and difficulties. Finding housing that's affordable and close to campus shouldn't be something a sophomore in college needs to worry about. The oligopoly of apartment buildings around campus isn't exactly rooted in making pricing fair for its students either. I remember calling leasing offices with the hopes of finding some guarantee of a roof over our heads, only to be met with the uncertainty of being placed on waitlists at these apartment buildings. According to the U.S. Congress Joint Economics Committee, the cost of inflation in Maryland is increasing more rapidly than the national average, placing the average household in Maryland in a position to pay $1246 more per month than other states in the country. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics further specifies that the cost of housing in Baltimore has risen by 4.6% since December 2024, making housing generally unaffordable for the average college student.

Don't get me wrong, apartment life is great. Beyond the independence, getting to build a little home with my roommates has been its own invaluable experience that I've grown to love. Whether it's coming home to a batch of freshly baked cookies or hosting birthdays, the freedom of having your own place makes way for new traditions in the last two years of college. Not to mention, living in a room that's bigger than a matchbox is also something I can't complain about. But life as a college adult is just another reminder that we're just that much closer to entering the real world. Beyond the practicalities of living on campus, university housing is an escape from the real world, and living on campus gives us the luxury of being able to forget that for as long as we're here.

Other institutions, like the University of Oregon and the University of Connecticut have used student surveys and reports to demonstrate that the benefits of university housing can be tracked empirically. Both universities found a trend of increasing GPA among students who stayed in university housing. Research from the University of Oregon found that students who lived on campus during their first year earned GPAs 0.13 points higher than those who lived off campys, with the gap widening to 0.17 points by their fourth year. Not only does this support the argument that university housing should be guaranteed, but it is also testament to the long-term benefit that such a service can have on the educational experience of students at the school.

When considering the loss of community or the lack of affordability, it seems justified that university housing should be guaranteed for all four years. However, guaranteeing housing should not mean mandating it. It's understandable that living on campus is probably not for everyone. In an ideal world, we would have the choice to opt in to university housing, making living off campus rooted in choice over necessity. A huge part of feeling at home in college is being comfortable with where you're living, which is why getting to have the chance to choose how you live during these years should be the norm.

Time at college is fleeting. Holding on to that sense of community at the place that most feels like home is more valuable than you would think. From my little desk in the corner of the Housing Office in Wolman 103, I watch that community grow over the months. Every pair of keys unlocks a new relationship, a new experience and a new home, and it's a shame to lose that part of the college experience without a say in it. Guaranteed four-year university housing means more than having a roof over your head. It's the security of belonging in this nest for all four years.

Kashvi Ganesh is a junior from Mumbia, India majoring in Molecular & Cellular Biology.

Pick 1: LAS VEGAS RAIDERS: Fernando Mendoza QB, Indiana University

After the Giants beat the Raiders in December of last year, pretty much everyone pencilled this in as the pick to kick it all off. Mendoza is the reigning Heisman winner and was an integral piece to a Hoosiers team that won the National Championship. The Raiders have a glaring need for a quarterback, and this is all but guaranteed to be the opening selection on draft night.

Pick 2: NEW YORK JETS: Arvell Reese EDGE, Ohio State University (OSU)

The Jets have committed to the rebuild for what feels like the 10th time in 10 years, but maybe this time will be different! With no obvious QB on the board, the logical option for New York would be to take the best player available, and that could be the athletic linebacker out of OSU.

Pick 3: ARIZONA CARDINALS: Francis Mauigoa OL, University of Miami (FL)

I'm not sure what direction the Cardinals will go in this situation, but reinforcing the offensive line is always a good move. Mauigoa has flexibility at both tackle and guard, and he should be a valuable piece moving forward for the Cards.

Pick 4: TENNESSEE TITANS: Carnell Tate WR, Ohio State University

After drafting what looks like their franchise quarterback last year, the Titans look as if there might be some promise on the horizon. With that in mind, I have them drafting with a similar strategy to the Panthers from last year (an unpopular choice at the time), taking their WR1 of the future in Carnell Tate.

Pick 5: NEW YORK GIANTS: Sonny Styles LB, Ohio State University

I do not mean this lightly when I say that Sonny Styles might be the closest thing we ever see to Calvin Johnson. As an absolute athletic freak in every sense of the word, with the Giants releasing veteran linebacker Bobby Okereke, he should slide in seamlessly and solidify that defense from day one.

Pick 6: CLEVELAND BROWNS: Makai Lemon WR, University of Southern California

The Browns are in desperate need of talent at pretty much every position. I could see them drafting the best left tackle in Monroe Freeling, but instead I have them opting for a shifty and reliable receiver in Makai Lemon. Shades of Amon-Ra St. Brown is a great comparison for Lemon, and he should feast out of the slot very early on.

Pick 7: WASHINGTON COMMANDERS: David Bailey EDGE, Texas Tech University

David Bailey is an interesting case-study for a new genre of edge rusher that is emerging. While being undersized at only 251 pounds, he poses a threat to offensive lineman due to his unique combination of burst off the line of scrimmage, and explosive speed when in space. The Commanders could do with help on their defensive line, and this would make plenty of sense.

Pick 8: NEW ORLEANS SAINTS: Jeremiyah Love RB, University of Notre Dame

Love is one of the best running back prospects we have seen in recent memory, and he could feasibly go off the board as high as pick three. Despite this, I have him falling slightly due to positional importance. If things were to play out in this way, the Saints should jump at the opportunity to add someone like him to their offense.

Pick 9: KANSAS CITY CHIEFS: Spencer Fano OL, University of Utah

The Chiefs haven't picked this high since they drafted Patrick Mahomes in 2017, so they need to capitalise on the draft capital while they can. Given this, I think drafting a high end offensive lineman could be the best move for them. KC have had issues with the turnstiles on their line since the 2021 Super Bowl, and they can finally solidify that after trading Joe Thuney last offseason and releasing Jawaan Taylor this year.

Pick 10: CINCINNATI BENGALS: Rueben Bain EDGE, University of Miami (FL)

The Bengals defense has been swiss cheese for a number of years now, and with perhaps the best defensive prospect falling into their laps at pick 10, it's a complete no-brainer.

Pick 11: MIAMI DOLPHINS: Mansoor Delane CB, Louisiana State University

The Dolphins had issues all year with their secondary, and Delane profiles as a technically sound corner that should be able to help immediately.

Pick 12: DALLAS COWBOYS: Caleb Downs S, Ohio State University

Like the Bengals and Dolphins before them, the Cowboys struggled on the defensive side of the field this past season. Caleb Downs is an incredibly polished prospect, but some potential knee injuries and lack of positional importance could see him fall.

Pick 13: LOS ANGELES RAMS (FROM ATLANTA FALCONS): Monroe Freeling OT, University of Georgia

Freeling has been moving up draft boards quickly, and after a strong showing at the combine he seems to be the best pure left tackle prospect. The Rams have a need with the retirement of Rob Havenstein, and he could be their future at the position.

Pick 14: LAS VEGAS RAIDERS (FROM BALTIMORE RAVENS): Vega Ioane IOL, Pennsylvania State University

The Raiders need to upgrade their offensive line this season, and Ioane is the consensus best prospect at his position.

Pick 15: TAMPA BAY BUCCANEERS: Kenyon Sadiq TE, University of Oregon

With the looming departure of Cade Otton, the Buccaneers could look to bring in the speedy and strong tight end out of Oregon.

Pick 16: NEW YORK JETS (FROM INDIANAPOLIS COLTS): Jordyn Tyson WR, Arizona State University

Tyson could easily be the best receiver prospect in this draft, but injuries are holding him back from solidifying his position. As the Jets have a war-chest of first rounders in the next couple of years, they could bank on the extreme upside.

Pick 17: DETROIT LIONS: Max Iheanachor OT, Arizona State University

As Taylor Decker continues to age, the Lions should look to bring in some youth, and Iheanachor is an absurd athlete who could develop well underneath veteran leadership.

Pick 18: MINNESOTA VIKINGS: Dillon Thieneman S, University of Oregon

The Vikings have a pretty complete roster, but after losing Cam Bynum and with Harrison Smith getting old, Thieneman would be a perfect replacement to bring some genuine A-grade athleticism into their defensive-back room.

Pick 19: CAROLINA PANTHERS: Peter Woods DL, Clemson University

The Panthers took a massive leap forward this year, and adding a high-upside defensive lineman like Woods should only bolster their hopes of contending in the next couple of years.

Pick 20: DALLAS COWBOYS (FROM GREEN BAY PACKERS): Akheem Mesidor EDGE, University of Miami (FL)

Ironically, I think the best use of the pick the Cowboys got for Micah Parsons would be to bring in some defensive line help. While Mesidor is old, he is incredibly polished and he should be a day one starter for a Cowboys defense in need of improvement.

Pick 21: PITTSBURGH STEELERS: Omar Cooper Jr. WR, University of Indiana

The Steelers wide receiver room is pretty much just DK Metcalf, so bringing someone like Cooper Jr. in would be a worthwhile investment for a team still trying to be relevant.

Pick 22: LOS ANGELES CHARGERS: Caleb Banks DL, University of Florida

The Chargers felt the loss of Poona Ford this year. While there are concerns with his injury history, Banks could emerge as one of the best players in this draft due to his combination of size and pass-rushing skills.

Pick 23: PHILADELPHIA EAGLES: Jermod McCoy CB, University of Tennessee

The Eagles always seem to land incredibly talented players further down the board than they should be, and I could see this continuing with McCoy. Injury concerns could scare teams, but I think the talent is too great to let him slide much further.

Pick 24: CLEVELAND BROWNS (FROM JACKSONVILLE JAGUARS): Caleb Lomu OL, University of Utah

The Browns didn't go offensive line with their first pick, but I think they have to here. While Lomu probably won't stick at tackle in the NFL, he should be valuable on the inside.

Pick 25: CHICAGO BEARS: Keldric Faulk EDGE/DL, Auburn University

There is a lot of smoke around the Bears potentially trading for superstar defensive lineman Maxx Crosby. If they are unable to, then Faulk would make an immediate impact in the run-game, with upside as a pass rusher.

Pick 26: BUFFALO BILLS: Denzel Boston WR, University of Washington

Now that the Bills have traded for veteran receiver DJ Moore, they have less of a need at WR, but nevertheless he will not be a long-term option. In this scenario I have the Bills taking a nice compliment to Moore in the tall receiver with strong contested catch abilities.

Pick 27: SAN FRANCISCO 49ERS: Emmanuel McNeil-Warren S, University of Toledo

While the Niners were able to find decent enough replacements for their heavily injured defense last year, that isn't necessarily sustainable. McNeil-Warren is an instinctual and rangy safety that hopefully will help solidify the back-end of the defense.

Pick 28: HOUSTON TEXANS: Kadyn Proctor OT, University of Alabama

The Texans continue to make strange decisions on their offensive line, and so they need to bring someone in. While Proctor is far from a finished product, he potentially possesses some of the highest upside in the draft due to his enormous frame and athletic tools.

Pick 29: KANSAS CITY CHIEFS (FROM LOS ANGELES RAMS): Aveion Terrell CB, Clemson University

After just trading away their all-pro corner to the Rams, I could absolutely see the Chiefs going straight back to the position and drafting a young, cheap and talented replacement.

Pick 30: DENVER BRONCOS: CJ Allen LB, University of Georgia

With all of the top receivers off of the board, the Broncos pivot to their other biggest need and draft their potential "quarterback of the defense" in CJ Allen.

Pick 31: NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS: T.J. Parker EDGE, Clemson University

Fresh off of an unexpected Super Bowl appearance, the Patriots should look to build on their strengths and bolster their defensive line with the upside of Parker.

Pick 32: SEATTLE SEAHAWKS: Brandon Cisse CB, University of South Carolina

The Seahawks have a number of free-agents in their DB room, and Cisse fits their archetypal mold perfectly: supreme athleticism combined with great physicality on the outside.

Feb. 17, 2026, marks three years to the day that I got into Hopkins, and this anniversary has me thinking so much about the things that've stayed the same. In the process, I've discovered that I have trouble letting go.

For example: I have a meticulous cyclical order in which I consume media throughout the year: Friends to How I Met Your Mother to Psych to Gilmore Girls to The West Wing, and repeat. I bounce from comfort to comfort, from Central Perk to MacLaren's to Luke's. And it extends beyond just TV: every visit home, I am greeted by the Laura Ingalls Wilder books I first read when I was five years old and charmed by the descriptions of churning butter and living in a log cabin in the woods; without fail, I can never take a trip home without rereading These Happy Golden Years and imagining myself in the beautiful dresses and hats that my beloved protagonist once wore.

I find myself in similar cycles with food. For two weeks straight after the winter storm of 2026, I ate exclusively loaded baked potatoes topped with black bean chili, greek yogurt, cheddar and spring onions. Before that, it was a creamy mushroom miso pasta. I've even had a two-year fixation on a really specific wonton brand that I once used to eat almost daily in my sophomore year. My comfort meal is always the same: two perfectly fried sunny-side-up eggs on a bed of rice, topped with a drizzle of sriracha.

When first reflecting on these rituals, I thought that the connection between them was simple - that the habits which stuck around are ones I shared with all the people I've once loved. And there was quite a lot of strong support for this conclusion: my favorite sitcoms are the ones I watched with my parents for the first time. Despite hating political dramas, I fell in love with The West Wing because of my dad's love for Aaron Sorkin's writing. It was friends that first introduced me to the wontons I still eat to this day, the same friends for whom I first made my creamy mushroom-y pasta.

But in my attempts to further elucidate the origins of these attachments, I've found a very different thread tying them together. They are each relics of a different Shreya, echoing through the Shreya who now pursues these older versions of herself relentlessly. My favorite shows still recall the Shreya who spent evenings eating dinner in front of the television, the Shreya who now knows by heart the episodes of Gilmore Girls that capture the magic of the snow outside her window. Even the dish I consider my signature, the sunny-side-up eggs on a bed of rice, call back the memory of the 17-year old Shreya from senior year, who finally perfected the cook time for jammy eggs the morning that she was accepted into and committed to the school, and the city she'd call home. The "creamy-mushroom-miso-pasta" Shreya was the one who straightened her hair because she had absolutely no clue how to take care of her natural waves, and wanted to look just as beautiful as the rest of her friends.

In isolation, my hyperfixations aren't particularly concerning. But oftentimes I've found myself paralyzed by my inability to let go of all of these old Shreyas, especially when I don't recognize the one I see in the mirror today. In some ways, the new me is so much happier. She wears her natural hair, has an infinitely better sense of style; she's even learned how to bake in addition to cooking, adding an entire new genre to her repertoire of food-related activities.

But it is terrifyingly strange to let go of the old Shreya, for whom all of these things I've mentioned were once new - the Shreya who blissfully knew nothing about the world and was constantly excited about learning something new, instead of holding on so tightly to the old. Old Shreya was unfinished, full of possibilities and still learning how to tie all these different facets of her personality together.

The new Shreya is almost a complete picture, a mosaic of every single person she's ever loved. She's graduating from the school she wasn't even committed to three years ago. And even though that's supposed to be this huge, transformative period of change, there's so much finality in knowing exactly what my life is going to look like for the next few years. Even though there's so much ahead of me to learn and experience, I can't help but think that the Shreya I am at 20 will calcify and harden, that returning to these comforts constantly is keeping me from adding to the Shreya I am now.

I just have to remind myself that calcification is a good thing - setting in stone a 20-year old me doesn't mean that I can't grow a new layer of "Shreya"-ness. Maybe "finishing" a layer of myself doesn't mean that I'm "finished," too. Maybe it just means it's time for a new layer.

Shreya Tiwari is a junior from Austin, Texas, studying BME. She is a Managing Editor for The News-Letter. Her column, "Invisible Strings," shares stories about all the people, places, and feelings to which she has "invisible strings," intimate hidden connections that she hopes to reveal to readers with each piece.

In Kaylee Nguyen's Voices article, she addresses her cultural identity in a compelling and vulnerable way - how her identity has been washed away in the "in between" of Vietnamese and American. In the author's situation, this is due to a perceived distance and shame about not being Vietnamese enough.

In contrast to Nguyen, who comes from a predominantly white area in Florida, I come from a prominent ethnic enclave. Although our backgrounds are different, our experiences with holding a Vietnamese identity are similar.

My hometown, Little Saigon, situated in Orange County, California, is the largest diaspora of Vietnamese people outside of Southeast Asia. People walk up to you assuming you know the language - school hallways are sometimes filled with more Vietnamese than English - and every street has an old school cafe, at least three pho restaurants (no English menus) and boba shops (they all change management every six months). In this environment, it is impossible to not feel Vietnamese. The distinction between the Vietnamese and the not-so-Vietnamese is only intensified. There is a large cultural conversation happening around "Who is more Vietnamese? Who is more American?" It was strange enough to be considered an outsider in my home, to feel a sense of shame for never being Vietnamese enough.

That's something I've noticed about my hometown: Whether born in America or recently immigrated from Vietnam, anyone attempting to identify with both cultures was never enough for either side (Vietnamese or American), always awkwardly nestled in between.

The friends I've made at the University turned my self-notion of cultural adequacy upside down. At Hopkins, I spoke with sufficient fluency to be considered "Vietnamese enough." How did this shift happen? I went from feeling lost, part of a specific sub-population of my area of "dishonorable" sons and daughters who did not know enough about their culture, to a person who was assumed to know anything and everything about the Vietnamese American experience.

I suppose that none of us will be able to fully encapsulate the breadth of experience of being a true Vietnamese American - all my identity is in this description. And I know it's not just us either; every immigrant will deal with the spectrum between "American" and their other ethnic identity. I can only hope that we find peace in that space in-between - the bravery to accept our incomplete inheritances, to enjoy the cultural fusion of America without the pressure to conform to only one aspect of our cultural identities.

Andrew Huynh is a freshman studying Neuroscience and Public Health from Orange County, Calif.

All of this has happened before. Right now, I am drinking a 16 oz. Watermelon Celsius because CharMar ran out of Blue Crush. I am writing another article about riding a train slightly less than a year after the first because my mind ran out of other ideas. This article will be less interesting because I did not venture outside Union Station this time in Chicago, and instead of reading books to spark cognitive shifts I watched Wicked. And Dear Evan Hansen. And Criminal Minds. Call this a sequel, the type that's worse than the first. At least this time, no one called me Jack Harlow - only something worse. You be the judge.

For those who don't care about me - that is, haven't read and annotated my previous columns - spring break of my freshman year I took a 36-hour train ride from Baltimore to Kansas City. My mom banned me from performing such stunts in the spring because it stole two days from her of my only seven-day break. So, the winter of my sophomore year, I purchased the same ticket; she could cope with missing two days from a month-long break.

Already on the longer leg of the ride from Baltimore to Chicago, I resolved that the train lost its novelty. All that was new was the loud pain in my tailbone, which forced me to consider if I was something less evolved than everyone else, closer to having a real tail given how pronounced the bone of mine seemed to feel against the train's masochistic cushions.

At Union Station, I sat on a hard wooden bench for four hours, skipping lunch to submit applications. It was cold outside, and I didn't want to pay 10 dollars to store my carry-ons. Every time I looked up from my laptop, I saw people with tails and animal ears, or at least t-shirts with fitting phrases: GOOD MORNING GAY DOGS and TRANS FURRY HACKERS. Once I boarded the train, there would only be seven hours until I was home, where I could sleep in my own bed.

Aboard the train, I had an upper deck aisle seat closest to the stairs. Like a sink, mirror or roll of toilet paper, I knew everyone who was going to the bathroom. Only seven hours. As soon as the train caterpillared to a start, it screeched to a halt: sticky brakes, typical with this winter weather, announced the conductor - or someone with authority - over the intercom. Only seven hours, now plus two for the total time we were stuck aboard the train on the track still in Chicago.

I tried reading some cultural commentary essays because I'm making an effort to be someone I'm not. To be honest, I can't tell you precisely who that is because I myself don't know, but I think reading cultural commentary essays will solve this issue. The one lambasting The Sims as ruining our generation's creativity I enjoyed, but the others made too-old references to television I had never heard of before, though I still read the essays as if the message would somehow stick. It didn't. The collection was titled Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, the cover of which I hid because I'm paranoid about coming across as a pervert on the train.

No one knows northeast Missouri. It's a great place to be lost, if that's what you're looking for. Not so great a place for what would turn out to be engine failure in the near dead of the night. We were caught on the tracks like deer in headlights, even if an onlooker would assume we're the headlights in that simile, the mighty machine with the power to kill. Many things that look mighty aren't, and vice versa. For example, children drowning adults in The Sims by removing the pool's ladder - see, am I becoming that person who I'm not?

I'll save you the trouble that I myself couldn't escape: the seven hours from Chicago to Kansas City turned into roughly 24 hours. My 36-hour journey consumed more than two days. The engine failed, though they wouldn't call it this for many, many hours - instead insisting it could be fixed - and at one point someone working on the train's mechanics came on the intercom to apologize, stumbling and certainly about to cry. Hearing his wobbly voice, the car erupted in laughter. We were all kids taking out the ladder, watching our Sim drown.

We were in La Plata, Missouri. Around midnight, I heard murmurs that a fleet of Greyhound buses arrived to our rescue, only to be inexplicably sent away empty, us still caught on the train. People grew outraged by their personal inconvenience and masked this by feigning altruistic concern for others: Weren't there elderly or disabled people perhaps somewhere on the train? The electricity was out, so we had no heat at midnight during a Missouri winter. Somehow, someone heard that somewhere on the train was stowed a cat with kittens - would the kittens be okay?

Some people, respect be to them, were quite upfront with their self-concern. They would miss work for this, and they told their bosses to not use their personal days and instead bill Amtrak. Some people had pets stowed in daycares - who would pay for their dog's extra stay?

When morning came and we were on our way - the mechanics behind this I don't understand - they offered a meager but complimentary breakfast. We would all receive vouchers for future rides, though mine will likely wither into expiration. During breakfast, I sat in the dining/observation car, giving my poor tailbone reprieve from the seat cushion with which it had grown too familiar. Two men joined me. Unprompted, one informed me we were approaching class-action lawsuit territory - and also, was I returning from the furry convention by chance? It seems I am never able to escape accusations of being someone I am not.

That was the only dialogue I experienced in my whole two-plus days on the train. I have read and formulated personal philosophies on how and why we must act in community with one another to be human, but I never learned the name of the man who was trapped beside me. I have only been misunderstood by everyone around me, though perhaps I don't feel as sorry about that as I should. I wrote a bad poem about all this, with the words "train" and "loneliness" both in the title, and "voyeurism" in the first stanza. The word "blessed" comes near the end, if that's any hope.

Maybe I should use that train voucher. But I kind of just want to play The Sims.

Riley Strait is a sophomore from Olathe, Kan. studying Writing Seminars and English. He is an Arts & Entertainment Editor for The News-Letter. His column, "In Medias Res," translates from Latin to "into the middle of things," shares narratives that bury occasional insights within fluffthat often leave the reader wondering, "Did I ask?"

There's one way to fix both writer's block and inability to come up with metaphors: just shut up. Easier said than done. But I've noticed, after giving it a spin, that shutting up can actually do wonderful things for your writing. Reticent narrators are read as irresistible, and poems with tight lips are just playing hard to get. As humans, we read absence as desire. That person you love who doesn't feel the same? Let me tell you a secret, but you didn't hear it from me: Yes, they do. The quiet kid in your class is always the genius. Why do we never think they're quiet simply because they're as lost as you are?

So I wrote stories of narrators with secrets, to which I never knew the answers and in which it's never really stated the narrator has a secret, and the story doesn't hinge around that. Call it intuition. I wrote poems, too, about one thing that was really another - but not in a metaphoric sense or triumph of Iceberg Theory that the reader is supposed to catch. I wrote poems about one thing which is really another, which in turn is really really something I didn't even know I was writing about. You're crazy if you say my poem is about that, which it was. The proof is in the pudding. Truth-tellers are always the craziest.

The thing about 35 millimeter slides is that they're completely black until some light hits them. As soon as a lightbulb in the other room ricochets wavelengths like an eight ball going into the wrong socket, these slides tell all. Isn't that the way we are, too, with our memories?

I did not know the way I do this was really because of that - that is, until the light hit, and now that's all anyone can see, whether I want them to or not. The day of yours that was ruined three weeks ago because you got a busted dryer that left your clothes wet is showing in how you hold yourself right now. The thread we're stitched with day to day stays unless we rip it out ourselves. You're a 35 millimeter slide, so you might as well surrender yourself to the light.

None of this is about 35 millimeter slides, and it's hardly about writing. I don't know what it's about, which is a lie packed inside a lie like a true Princess Bride poison-cup fiasco. In fact, I only watched the movie in elementary school and can't remember now what the resolution to it was, so it's truly a Schrödinger's Cat, which I don't know the physics behind, so… How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

Let me know if you find out. Regarding any of the things above.

Call this article "The art of pretentious, circuitous writing: meaning, metaphors and more for escaping writer's block." Or, the subtitle: "Hitting the word count."

Riley Strait is a sophomore majoring in Writing Seminars and English from Olathe, Kan.

Do:

1. Research. Before you dine at a restaurant, read about the type of food it serves, the formality of the dining and even the history of the restaurant and the neighborhood. Context is important when considering an authentic review.

2. Be holistic. Yelp does a good job giving you a checklist of topics you should cover in a review, such as food, service and ambience. Just because the wait time is long in a restaurant doesn't mean it deserves a one-star review. Likewise, one dish being out of stock doesn't mean the overall quality of the food is terrible. I see reviews with only one topic to comment on way too often. These reviews only show one side of the restaurant and are often quite hostile, steering readers in the direction the reviewer biases toward.

3. Pictures, pictures, pictures! People love pictures, especially when there is variety. In addition to food, take a picture of the seating area, the menu and other details people may overlook but find important in a review. Personally, I'd love to know how many seats there are and what the most recently updated menu is. It takes one second to help a lot of curious diners!

Don't:

1. Let your bias lead the way. We all come from different cultures and backgrounds and may have a preference for certain cuisines, but don't let that be a reason to shy away from unfamiliar cuisines. Even if it's of a different culture, look at it with an objective lens instead of already being biased because it's a Mediterranean restaurant instead of American, for example. And please know the ingredients before you criticize a dish. Saying, "The chicken in my stir-fry dish is full of tiny bone fragments, proving the chef was lazy," when it's actually a Chinese culinary tradition to keep the chicken bone in for better absorbance of flavor not only makes you look like a jerk, but also obscures the authenticity of the dish from you. Also, please avoid using the word "authentic" when you haven't personally gone to the origin of the cuisine and tried the actual authentic food. I can't say this Mexican food is authentic just because it tastes good. Many reviewers throw in that word recklessly, even though it's a meaning-rich word that requires experiential backing.

2. Give up on a cuisine just because it tasted bad once in a single restaurant. This phenomenon is very human and where microaggressions can stem from. The other day I heard two comments about food adjacent to my culture from someone who's not from Asia, and I was a little shocked.

"I hate boba. I tried boba once, and it was pink and tasted like Pepto Bismol. I'm never trying boba again."

"I don't like tofu. What even is tofu? Is it just a vegan substitution for meat?"

Variations of these statements are not uncommon to pop up in a restaurant review. I would say the golden rule is to try at least three bites of a dish before deeming it as distasteful, and to try a cuisine at least three times before never going back. Go to different restaurants of that cuisine. Go during lunch, dinner, the weekend or a weekday. Let that variety give you a better picture before you decide that it's not for you!

3. Write a good review just because there's a deal for a free dish or merch. I know it's tempting to follow those little blackboard prompts for "a free tote bag if you write us a 5-star Google review!" (cough cough, Paris Baguette). This behavior encourages false advertising and skews the overall rating of the restaurant. Many clothing stores flag incentivized reviews so readers can interpret them with context. Restaurant reviews, however, rely on an honor system with no labeling to tell you the review was rewarded. At the very least, please disclose the incentivization before you submit that review.

Go ahead and submit your first restaurant review!

Linda Huang is a sophomore majoring in Biomedical Engineering from Rockville, Md. She is a Magazine Editor for The News-Letter.

Let's dive in.

The Golden State Warriors have acquired Kristaps Porziņģis. Sidelined by lingering injury and illness, his one game played since the trade is not the best indicator of how much he can impact the Warriors' game. Steph Curry also sits out due to patella-femoral pain syndrome and a bone bruise on his knee. Porziņģis' 7-foot-3 frame is the size the Warriors need, especially with his role as a stretch five. The timetable for when these two players can make a strong start remains uncertain. With this trade also came the arrival of 23-year-old Jonathan Kuminga to the Atlanta Hawks. His frustrations with a reduced role and limited playing time became more understandable as his athleticism and efficiency were on full display in his debut against the Washington Wizards, when he put up a season-high 27 points in 24 minutes, along with seven rebounds, four assists and two steals.

The Utah Jazz have acquired Jaren Jackson Jr. from the Memphis Grizzlies. As the 2022-23 NBA Defensive Player of the Year and a two-time All-Star, his defensive presence would especially be a dominant pairing for forward and the Jazz's growing superstar, Lauri Markkanen.

In line with the need for size, the Indiana Pacers have acquired Ivica Zubac (Clippers). His physicality and rebounds for the crucial extra possessions would benefit the versatile, high-energy defense already provided by Andrew Nembhard and Aaron Nesmith, as well as create offensive opportunities for key scorers Tyrese Haliburton and Pascal Siakam.

A particularly surprising move was the Cleveland Cavaliers trading away star Darius Garland for James Harden (from the L.A. Clippers). Though Garland has been out with a right toe sprain and a surgically impaired left toe, the future pairing with Kawhi Leonard is an exciting one, as it will provide off-ball versatility, playmaking and up-tempo pace of game to complement Leonard's shooting efficiency and all-star caliber skills. Meanwhile, Harden has averaged 18.9 points and 8.0 assists per game since joining the Cavaliers. His shooting productivity helps bring a solid second option for a court facilitator like Donovan Mitchell, elevating offensive efficiency alongside Cavalier bigs Jarrett Allen and Evan Mobley.

The Washington Wizards additionally have a rebuild in the works. Starting this season with a young core, additions of veterans Trae Young and Anthony Davis will bring experience to the team. The latter trade is quite ironic to all the hype and sky-high expectations surrounding the Anthony Davis-Luka Dončić trade. Consider this: it has been just over one year since Davis was traded, and he is no longer with the Dallas Mavericks. Plus, obstacles remain with Davis' continuum of injuries, as well as Young's recovery from his right knee MCL sprain and quad contusion. Though there are concerns about how AD will complement Wizards' 7-foot center, Alex Sarr, both would contribute much-needed rim protection and defense. Young, as a deep shooter and crafty ballhandler, will look to create shot and pick-and-roll opportunities. His advanced reads and point guard instincts would also be key in controlling the tempo of the game. Hopefully, the addition of both players will prompt growth in the young players, not push them into a system they don't fit well into.

Nikola Vučević was traded from the Chicago Bulls to the Boston Celtics. Building his reputation as a consistent offensive pillar, an excellent passer and a ball mover this season, his value on any team is evident. His adjustments to the Celtics' system are key going into the postseason, especially as superstar Jayson Tatum looks to return soon. Vučević has already recorded a 28-point, 11-rebound double-double in a win against the Brooklyn Nets on Feb. 27, showing he is on the right track.

2025 NBA Champions, the Oklahoma City Thunder, have an exciting acquisition of Jared McCain from the Philadelphia 76ers. Though McCain's rookie campaign was curtailed by a left knee injury, his new guard spot alongside NBA MVP Shai Gilgeous-Alexander seems to be a bright one. His several games with the Thunder have already shown signs of growing potential, dropping two 20-point games within three weeks since his trade on Feb. 4. In his nine games with the Thunder, his shooting from both the field and 3-point range has surpassed 45%.

Now for the trade that was overly hyped up but did not follow through. Following a 2021 championship win led by Giannis Antetokounmpo, the Bucks have faced a fair share of ups and downs. Since his 2013 draft, he has shown loyalty to the team rather than opting to form a superteam. Many of the core players of the 2021 team, including Khris Middleton, Jrue Holiday, Bobby Portis, P.J. Tucker and Brook Lopez, have parted ways via trade, taking a huge hit to their once tenacious defense. The Bucks had acquired Damian Lillard from the Portland Trail Blazers in 2023, providing some fire, including capturing the 2024 Emirates In-season NBA cup on an undefeated streak. However, the dynamic duo did not last long, ending the 2025 first-round postseason run on a halting note after Lillard suffered a heart-wrenching Achilles' tear against the Indiana Pacers. Since then, the Bucks have acquired center free agent Myles Turner in exchange for releasing Lillard to the Blazers.

Antetokounmpo's relentless effort, passion and high energy for the game, absolute obsession with improvement, and championship mindset have raised many questions about his continued stay with the Bucks. He has mentioned his willingness to leave if he has to, especially if he feels the franchise won't be fully committed to his ultimate goal of championships. Earlier this year, the Warriors, Miami Heat, New York Knicks and Minnesota Timberwolves were several of the most interested teams in seeking a deal. Though the trade deadline passed on Feb. 5, there remain questions about potential offers and trade packages for the superstar in the summertime. It's safe to say there is an asterisk attached to Antetokounmpo's future.

The end of the regular season, April 12, 2026, is quickly approaching. The following day, teams are required to finalize playoff rosters. It will be interesting to see what choices teams make in integrating their new acquisitions, how team chemistry will continue to expand and develop, and whether players will be able to make a name for themselves on new teams.

My default has been "I like to read and write," but recently, saying that has never felt more like a blatant lie. As the realities of university life sink in, the responsibilities, deadlines and pressure consume me. The time I have for writing slowly dwindled to nothing. How can I call myself a writer when I don't write at all?

People often say if you truly enjoy something, you'll always have time for it. But how easily writing was squeezed out of my schedule suggested otherwise. If it's not the process of writing I am drawn to, then what is it about the role that is so appealing that makes it my instinctual answer when someone asks what I enjoy?

The answer is simple: I love stories. They are the fundamental methods I understand the world with. When the chaos of an indeterminate future and a dwindling pointless past overwhelms, the power of stories becomes so distinguishing as an arbiter of order. It is a way of explaining there is meaning in the ways the world functions - that this tiny, fleeting moment of existence is part of some timeless, endless celestial saga.

But all this grand talk of the power of stories has ultimately amounted to nothing prior to this year. I started telling people my favorite medium to write in is "unfinished plotlines" because it was the truth. I figured the image of a writer I had for myself is entirely fictional. I don't have any sort of awards or portfolio or credentials that should qualify me for this role. I didn't consume literary works or truly enjoy analyzing and dissecting stories to fit some sort of theme. My favorite author is Tolkien and my favorite series is The Lord of the Rings because I never had the time to develop more niche interests. I write when I feel like it, and most of the time, I don't. When I do, it's probably because I pre-set deadlines and responsibilities, so I force myself to follow through (thank you, magazine submission).

These and much more were facts I told myself. Only recently did I understand these affirmations inhibited me from actually writing: I told myself I was not ready, was not enough, that trying was futile, before I had ever tried. How could this end in anything but a waste of time? How could I dream of telling stories of the transition from isolation and despair to hope and love, when I had not even gone through that transformation?

Of course, the first step toward change is recognizing the problem. While watching a Brandon Sanderson interview during winter break, I was captivated by what he said. He knew many who never published their first novels, but none who regretted writing them. There is no "correct" time to start writing, and life will never wait for me to be "ready" to start telling stories.

"Getting started" is what I have done. This year, I picked up a Writing Seminars minor and started really plotting and writing my first novel! Even if I am pursuing an engineering major, my love for stories shouldn't be changed because of it. A creative mindset is a useful asset in any field, after all.

I don't feel ready to claim the role of a "writer" yet, but I know that I will get there eventually because, for once, I am actually writing.

Shuwen Zheng is a freshman majoring in Computer Engineering from San Jose, Calif.

Crochet is the hobby I return to every time my life becomes even slightly complicated. I caught the "yarn bug" in response to severe exhaustion after sophomore year and peer pressure from my best friend. The first project I completed was that summer: a slightly anemic, messy pink heart that probably fell apart in a few hours (though I can't be sure of this since I have no idea where it went). But progression was faster than I'd expected. My first "successful" project, completed just a few months later, was far more beautiful - a bandanna with gold chains and strawberry beads dangling from the edge.

Crochet has been my rock through heartbreak, an enabler for my severe procrastination on schoolwork and above all, the bane of my existence - a complexity I am perpetually shocked by because I love crochet. I love working with my hands instead of picking at my fingers. I love watching a row of stitches materialize, especially when I've managed to make the "inter-stitch" spaces perfectly even. I love when, after four or five rows, my somewhat more complete product resembles the video tutorial at which I've been intently squinting for hours.

But at the same time, there are few moments when I am more frustrated than mid-crochet project. Anyone who has dabbled in the craft knows the frustration of a dropped stitch or uneven yarn tension. Both casualties yield final products that are studded with holes and bumps, a fate that has befallen many of my earlier projects.

But my first successful project taught me the worst part of crochet: counting. Counting stitches and rows is the root of my commitment issues with crochet. Especially as a beginner, uneven edges and stitches in wrong orientations almost had me reconsidering multiple monumental life decisions, including being an engineering major. (Because how do I survive a field built on math if I can't even tell the difference between the fifth and sixth stitch of the row?)

I am not beholden to or obligated to keep pursuing this somewhat torturous lover of mine. It indulges my unhealthiest tendencies. Crochet's intricacies feed my anal-retentive perfectionism. It leaves marks on my skin in calluses and scars from working the yarn and the hook - a visible, painful, yet slightly discolored, sign of my hard work. It leaves a burning behind my eyes and blurs my vision; it leaves scars on my brain in the shape of the scraping of my metal hook against my fingernails.

Am I masochistic for it? Is it really so bad? To have scars and bruises that are not self-inflicted? To see evidence of my hard work within a few rows instead of on a midterm that is months later? To squint over stitches instead of books? Isn't it worth it to have my brain hurt from piecing apart patterns instead of piecing apart a particularly frustrating problem set?

There is so much relief in putting all this effort into something that yields a product that feels so real, that leaves so much proof behind. So no matter how many times I reconsider my commitment, I will still return to my love. I'll sit on the bed or in my living room and stitch and unstitch infinite swatches of yarn until black dots swim in my eyes. I'll do the little awkward stretch to reach for my phone every time crochet rears its ugly head and feels abandoned for too long. We're not breaking up quite yet.

Shreya Tiwari is a junior majoring in Biomedical Engineering from Austin, Texas. She is a Managing Editor for The News-Letter.

Obviously, this is not to say I haven't read at all since my childhood; it just felt like I never read enough. The excitement of reading a book I like, being so captivated that it's all I can think about, yapping about it to my friends and urging them to read it - these things never changed. I felt the same way about books at every age. In my experience, it even felt like a chain reaction: If I took the first step, simply opening the first page and reading the first sentence, the rest would follow, and my exhilaration would grow exponentially with every page I turned.

But somehow, as I grew older, taking that first step became more and more difficult, and I started reading less and less. When did reading start feeling like a chore rather than leisure? Was it when books started coming in the form of homework, something I was obligated to do? Or was it when the pressure of reading more "serious stuff" got more intense with every passing year?

Getting to the root of this problem took a reflection. I started comparing this phenomenon - which I named "The Struggle of Taking the First Step" - to other areas of my life. In what other parts of my routine do I struggle to start, but once I begin, the rest feels like a downward slope?

Here's one example. The News-Letter general meetings are held on Mondays at 7 p.m., and although I love our paper, editors and "Gatehome" with all my heart, sometimes I dread leaving the comfort of my home. Pushing myself into the sweet chaos of running a paper - discussing the coverage of serious topics and managing people - is difficult to convince myself to do. But whenever I walk in and take my usual position to host the editors' meeting, I remember why I do it every week. The work we do is stressful, frequently exhausting and requires sacrifice, but I love the end result: achieving something this big and continuing such a tradition alongside so many people surrounding me.

Reading a book feels similar. I know that it will become my next obsession if I manage to sit down and read the first page of Jane Eyre, My Year of Rest and Relaxation or Lord of the Flies. But, quite frankly, reading a book is stressful (What if I don't like it and can't finish it, or worse, don't understand it?), frequently exhausting (as it feels much easier to open Netflix after 12 hours of productivity sucks the life out of me) and requires sacrifice (Should I prepare my cheat sheet for the Kinetics midterm or read one more chapter?).

This past winter break, the first day I checked my to-do list and saw no pressing items, I made it my mission to regain my reading habit and make my inner child feel fulfilled once again. In one month, I actually made decent progress: I finished Wuthering Heights, The Pilgrimage and The Count of Monte Cristo; I even started reading Don Quixote and The Gambler, although my reading consistency had to decrease with the start of a busy semester. During this journey, I came up with three key rules that helped me feel less intimidated by reading (and, more importantly, remain consistent with it).

1. Force yourself to read the first page, but don't pressure yourself into finishing it. There were multiple points in my life where the chain reaction never activated, although I made myself read through numerous chapters. Sometimes, a book is just not for you. Back in high school, Tolstoy's War and Peace made me never want to read again. Although this means I might never get to read such a renowned classic, at least it didn't make me sour on reading forever. Don't traumatize yourself - follow what genuinely piques your interest!
2. Don't compare your reading pace to others'. This is one of the reasons why I don't use Goodreads. If you can read 20 books in one month, congrats! That will unfortunately never be me, and seeing others being better at reading will only make me feel bad about myself. So, I keep to myself and read at peace.
3. Understand that what you read is more important than how many pages you go through. When I look at my failed attempts at making reading a habit, I noticed it was mostly because I attempted to read hard-to-understand books. My pace would slow down as I'd spend more time than usual on each page to digest it well. It would eventually seem like I wasn't making any progress, so I'd stop reading altogether. Now, when this happens, I remind myself that this is natural; as long as I like the book, it doesn't matter whether I go through 10 or 100 pages in one day.

I hope that the three rules I came up with for myself will either help you regain your reading habit or inspire you to come up with your own. Don't let Hopkins make you feel like your brain is too fried to read for fun. Today, convince yourself to pick a book and open the first page.

Buse Koldas is a junior from Istanbul, Turkey majoring in Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering. She is an Editor-in-Chief for The News-Letter.

After we graduated high school, we diverged - she focused on dance, and I focused on theater. She got into a Modern Dance program, and I got into a BFA Acting Program, which put me at a roadblock. It was for a prestigious acting program, and I had received the scholarship to attend, but ultimately decided to come to Hopkins, agreeing with myself to pursue my theatrical interests as an extracurricular. At least, that was the plan.

I had done a gig before at a local professional theater as a role in the ensemble my junior year of high school, and the next thing I knew, I was getting an invitation from the director to audition for a one-man show at this professional theater. I had seen the casting call but didn't think of auditioning, thinking I was too young, but apparently, that wasn't the case. That was also the summer I booked my first contract as an assistant choreographer. It seemed as if the more theater I was doing, the more roles and contracts I was booking. That's when it hit me - this wasn't a hobby anymore, this was becoming a career.

Don't get me wrong, I love theater. I mean, there is a reason why I still do it as much as I do. It's how I met my friends, and spending such an immense amount of time delving into a character and their intentions is wonderful. However, having an extracurricular that is now a potential career path creates a complicated dynamic between the two. Sometimes, I feel a profound level of pressure to do another production, to take on another role, solely for the purpose of having another credit and skill set on my resume. Because of this, theater isn't a source of relaxation for me anymore; it's a source for networking and gaining new skillsets.

This year, I have made it a goal to limit the theater I do. It doesn't mean auditioning less per se, but rather, auditioning with more intention. Sure, I could apply to countless casting calls, but frankly, that's tiring. I didn't want to become one of the many artists who feel the need to chuck themselves into their next production, solely for the idea that if they don't, they'll soon be forgotten. Instead, I'm making it a goal to audition for what shows or roles I truly love. I've already booked my third summer contract as assistant choreographer at my local theater, and frankly, coming into a season of shows I truly love with a dream-team production team, I couldn't be more excited.

Finnigan Keane is a sophomore majoring in Archaeology and Environmental Studies from Margate City, N.J.