Surya utters jumbled verses of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" to his buddy as he pursues an immigration officer; he's desperate for a chance to travel abroad and impress Meghna, the woman he's fallen head over heels for. It seems unlikely for him to roam through the streets of Berkeley, strumming his guitar, only for her to leave her dorm and let him in. But this happened in one of the beloved Tamil films, Vaaranam Aayiram, which translates to "A Thousand Elephants."

In Vaaranam Aayiram, Meghna served as a mirror for many Tamil millennial women who look to the horizon and see the United States not as a distant dream, but as an achievable destiny. I relate to her not for her academic capabilities, but for her quiet, stubborn unwillingness to settle for a life smaller than the one her father envisioned. But the magic truly begins when Surya enters, setting in motion the coming-of-age journey that requires crossing an ocean just for a chance at love. If Surya is the pulse and Meghna is the breath, San Francisco is the body that holds them. It stands as a silent witness to the truth that sometimes, the hardest part isn't crossing over - it's the landing.

But the weight of destiny, and the glory of the thousand elephants, is a tale older than cinema.

"வாரண மாயிரம் சூழவ லம்செய்து, நாரண நம்பி நடக்கின்றா னென்றெதிர்!" is transliterated as "Vaaranam aayiram soozha valanjeidhu, Naarana nambi nadakindraan endredhir." Long before it became the name and soul of this Gautham Menon film, these were the words of the eighth century poet-saint Andal, a rhythmic, sacred chant describing a dream in which a thousand elephants march in a grand procession to usher her toward her divine destiny. As much as it sounded like a delusion to others, including her father, it was a vision of unstoppable momentum for Andal.

But for those of us living outside the silver screen, like myself, as the leading lady of my own life, traveling 8,600 miles just to resolve a fight and landing in San Jose felt less like a royal procession and more like a soft and necessary exhale. After every little previous trip had nearly strangled the spirit out of me, I found a different kind of air here. Every steep climb in the Vargas Plateau rewarded my lungs with a breeze, and every descent in the Bay Area led to a different version of home.

It wasn't just the warmth of the Sunnyvale; it was the tenderness of being truly seen like someone dear whispering, "I see you, you are here and you are worth all the effort." It was in the second helping of rice and the delicious hot idlis offered without asking, the spontaneous drives to the Pacific, the joy of witnessing the amber glow hitting the waves at Half Moon Bay and the lenses that captured a smile I hadn't felt in months that contributed to the warmth of being seen more than the sun. I spent time with people who didn't just tolerate my chaos, but leaned into it like the Victorian houses of the city, sorting through the trouble I caused, with the same patience one uses to untangle the red string that tied me to the one that my heart was beating for.

In San Francisco, I wasn't an inconvenience; I was a person worth the effort. Because it was never about the place, it was always, always, about the people you share it with!

While Surya's journey to the Golden Gate was about pursuing love, mine was about preserving a decade-long connection. He traveled to Berkeley to be seen, whereas I travelled to Union City to be remembered. While Harris Jayaraj's "Mugam Paarka Thavikiren" (translated to "I long to see your face") played on the radio, the cross-country trip felt like a quiet undressing of a love letter to the Golden City. The towering grace of the Golden Gate reminded me that no ocean is too wide. Witnessing the same in reality, I realized it isn't just a landmark that withstood the tides, but it's a monument to the canonical Tamil American dream.

I believe we are all like Surya, chasing our own versions of Meghna across vast, blue divides. We cross oceans not because we are guaranteed a soft landing, but because some goals are worth the weight of a thousand elephants. And as I stood where the bay meets the sky, I realized that the greatest promise I ever kept was the one I made to myself: to never settle for a life, or a love, that didn't require me to be this brave.

" In animals, a fundamental property is the ability of the body's internal environment to remain constant in the face of a continuously changing outside world... and the sympathetic nervous system is responsible for maintaining body homeostasis. It's classically been studied for fight or flight responses… but it's also responsible for making sure that your internal body homeostasis stays constant when there are environmental changes or during daily activities such as exercise or even adjusting for a drop in blood pressure on standing up," Kuruvilla said.

Given the many roles of the sympathetic nervous system in maintaining essential bodily functions, dysregulation of this system can lead to disease. Notable diseases linked to the sympathetic nervous system include congestive heart failure, hypertension, diabetes, and anxiety disorders.

Kuruvilla's initial journey into science was driven by her curiosity about the world around her.

"I was always curious. I loved biology. I really wanted to understand how things work… when I [found out] that you could also do a PhD and get paid to do research, I think that's what brought me to do my PhD in this country," Kuruvilla recalled.

Kuruvilla completed a PhD in biochemistry at the University of Houston, where she utilized diabetic rats as a model system to study changes in lipid concentrations that affect nerve conduction velocity. At the conclusion of her PhD, Kuruvilla decided to pursue neuroscience research further for her postdoctoral studies.

"I was fascinated by work coming from David Ginty's lab [at the time] in the neuroscience department at the School of Medicine," Kuruvilla said. "[The Ginty lab] had established a compartmentalized culture system to study neuronal signaling, where they grow neurons such that the cell bodies and the axons were in different compartments."

Kuruvila joined Ginty's lab as a postdoc, where she began to study nerve growth factor (NGF) and its transport through sympathetic nerves using the compartmentalized culture system. Her work shed light on the control of NGF transport from axon terminals back towards the neuron cell body.

After starting her own lab at Hopkins, Kuruvilla continued to study the development of the sympathetic nervous system and the crosstalk between target organs, the sympathetic nervous system and the brain. She continues to utilize the same model systems - mice and human cells - that she employed in her PhD and postdoctoral research. One project in the lab specifically studied the role of the sympathetic nervous system in the pancreas.

"We know which cells in the pancreas secrete NGF... So we could, in a very targeted way, ablate NGF specifically from those cells using the Cre-LoxP system in mice… We use mice to do whole in vivo imaging and metabolic tests in glucose metabolism. But at the same time, if [we] want to understand the mechanisms, we have to go back to the cell culture system, and for example, grow neurons in these compartmentalized chamber systems [so] we can tag the receptors fluorescently and watch the NGF receptors shuttle from the axon tip to the cell bodies to trigger gene expression changes," Kuruvilla said.

Along with neurons, the nervous system is made up of supporting cells known as glial cells. An emerging project in the Kuruvilla lab is exploring the role of a special type of peripheral glial cell, satellite glial cells (SGCs), in protecting sympathetic neurons. These SGCs are known to wrap around the cells of sympathetic ganglia, clusters of nerve cell bodies that act as sites of synapsing between sympathetic neurons. SGCs are also present in other ganglia of the peripheral nervous system such as the dorsal root ganglia of sensory neurons. These ganglia are crucial for the transmission of sensory signals to the central nervous system.

Kuruvilla's team conducted single-cell RNA sequencing on both the sensory and sympathetic SGCs. Interestingly, they found distinct differences in the transcriptional profile of these two populations of SGCs. To explore the differences between these two cell populations further, Kuruvilla studied their relative permeability to outside molecules.

"It's been thought that all the neurons outside the [central] nervous system have easy access to circulation," Kuruvilla explained. "But this has been under-studied. So we asked, 'do these neurons have access to circulation?'"

To test this question, Kuruvilla's team injected a small fluorescent dextran tracer into mice and analyzed tissues after the tracer was allowed to circulate through the bloodstream. They reasoned that if the SGCs of the sympathetic nervous system were permeable, the tracer would leak through the SGCs and the tracer would be present inside the nerve cell bodies. However, they were surprised to see that the tracer was not present inside the nerve cell bodies of sympathetic ganglia.

"Basically, the tracer comes right smack against the boundary of the neuron and satellite glial cells, but they don't get into the neurons," Kuruvilla said. "So this really suggested… even if the tracer leaks out of the blood vessels, the satellite glial cells are acting as a physical barrier."

However, when they conducted the same tracer experiment in sensory ganglia, they saw that the dextran tracer leaked into sensory nerves. Along with the RNA sequencing data, these results further suggested that sympathetic SGCs somehow differ in function compared to those of the sensory nervous system, acting as a barrier similar to the central nervous system's blood-brain barrier. The lab has tested the permeability of SGCs to different molecules as well with similar results.

In addition to her work in the lab, Kuruvilla also holds an appointment as Vice Dean of Natural Sciences. This role adds many administrative duties in addition to research, which require precise management of her schedule.

"Mondays, Tuesdays and half-day Wednesday I'm in the Dean's office. Thursdays and Fridays, I try to protect for my lab. I meet with my students and postdocs one-on-one every two weeks… I really see myself as a bridge between faculty and the Dean's office."

What Kuruvilla appreciates the most about the University's research is its facilitation of collaboration.

"I think that the common interest in research at Hopkins breaks down all the barriers to collaboration, because people are truly curious and excited. So I think they just care about hearing a great idea, and then they work together to make things happen."

She landed in D.C. Saturday evening and made her way up to Baltimore that night, suitcase in hand and clearly exhausted from the flight. When she finally arrived at my apartment, we were both excited for the day ahead. We headed straight to Kong Pocha, one of my go-to comfort spots near campus.

She ordered the kimchi fried rice. I went for the curry chicken omurice, glossy and golden, the kind of dish that feels like a warm blanket after a long day. We sat there catching up on everything we had missed. Classes, roommates, old memories from home. We had the kind of conversation that makes time slip away without you noticing. It was the perfect way to kick off her 24 hours in Baltimore: full stomachs, loud laughter and a table scattered with shared bites. We had made an ambitious plan to wake up early the next morning.

That plan lasted until about 9 a.m.

Like most of my mornings, I stayed glued to my pillow far longer than intended. My friend, still running on California energy and pure motivation, finally dragged me out of bed with one reminder that worked instantly.

Crab dip bagels.

We hurried out the door and walked to La Maison by Cafe Dear Leon, hoping we had made it in time before their most popular items sold out. If there is one piece of advice I would give anyone planning a Baltimore morning, it is this: check their bake schedule before you go.

Inside, the pastry case felt almost overwhelming in the best way. Rows of glossy pastries lined the shelves like tiny works of art. We chose a pistachio raspberry pastry, a passionfruit coconut pastry, a crème brûlée pastry and, of course, the crab dip bagel. Warm, rich and unapologetically indulgent, it tasted exactly like something worth waking up for.

With pastries in hand and coffee finally working its magic, we spent the rest of the morning walking through campus.

Spring had fully arrived, and campus looked like it knew it. Cherry blossoms stretched over walkways, students sprawled across the grass and sunlight made everything feel slower and easier. My friend immediately started taking pictures, snapping photos with cherry blossoms and Hopkins signs that would later flood her camera roll.

Even with just 24 hours, a campus walk feels essential. It shows off a quieter side of the city that you do not always see from the outside.

By midday, we had bigger plans: cherry blossoms in D.C.

We shuttled to Penn Station and boarded the MARC train, one of the best transportation deals for students. For about nine dollars, you can get from Baltimore to Washington, D.C. in under an hour. The train was packed far beyond what either of us expected, people standing shoulder to shoulder as we balanced bags and held onto rails.

Once we arrived, we met up with another friend from home who was spending the semester in D.C. We leaned into the tourist experience. The Lincoln Memorial. The White House. Museums and long walks between monuments that made us realize just how much ground D.C. covers. Everywhere we looked, cherry blossoms framed the city in soft pink and white.

By the afternoon, our energy started to fade, and we ducked into Teaism, a tea house that felt like a quiet reset. Sitting there with warm drinks in our hands, we slowed down for the first time all day, talking about school, home and how crazy it was to be at the same place at the same time after so long.

Eventually, the sun began to dip, and it was time to head back.

The MARC ride back to Baltimore was just as crowded, but by then exhaustion had settled in. When we stepped off at Penn Station, we thought the hardest part of the day was over.

It was not.

What followed was the familiar Hopkins shuttle struggle. We waited. Checked the app. Waited again. Watched buses appear and disappear in ways that made absolutely no sense. At some point, we started laughing because the situation felt too ridiculous to take seriously.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, we made it back to my apartment.

At that point, neither of us had the energy to cook or debate dinner options. We grabbed Honeygrow, a quick and reliable meal that always comes through when time is short and hunger is loud. Sitting on my couch with takeout containers balanced on our laps, we replayed the day, still slightly amazed at how much we had managed to fit into one weekend.

Soon enough, it was time for goodbyes.

Looking back, there are still things I wish we had squeezed into those 24 hours. I would have taken her to Ekiben if I had remembered that it is closed on Sundays. I would have brought her to Hampden for ice cream at The Charmery and spent an afternoon wandering through the Baltimore Museum of Art.

But even without those stops, the weekend felt complete.

If you only have 24 hours in Baltimore, the secret is not trying to do everything. Pick a few good meals. Walk as much as possible. Leave room for crowded trains and missed buses. Those small inconveniences often become the moments you laugh about later.

Because in the end, the best way to spend a day in Baltimore is sharing crab dip bagels on a sunny morning, getting lost in the rhythm of the city and spending time with someone who reminds you of home.

You asked me if you could drive my car the rest of the way home and I said, "Only if you have your learner's permit on you."

We were passing by Dulles High when you said it, and I didn't know how serious you really were, but you'd jokingly asked once already, so it seemed to me that you were pretty eager to get behind the wheel.

I pulled into that gravely, pothole-ridden parking lot and put my car into park. You went in front and I crossed towards the trunk so our conversation took a break as the tint of my rear windshield blocked our line of sight. The light at the front of the school was still on. I almost wanted to sit on that little concrete slab they call a bench and pretend like somebody was coming to pick me up one last time.

I made a comment about the stupid speed bump they put right at the exit of the parking lot. That jolt felt like the relief of so many hours wasted waiting for the deluge of yellow school buses to drain away before finally being able to pull out onto the main road.

Last time we were both in my car like this, driving home from Meghan's house under the cover of night, I started playing "Pluto Projector" right about here. We stopped talking and started singing along, and as the song ended in your driveway, I hugged you and cried my first tears in months. It was stupid. I felt like I wouldn't ever see you again.

I guess I really wasn't going to ever see you again. Everything is different; I live in a different world now. Baltimore is a different world.

I don't know if it was the break in dialogue from swapping seats, or the feeling that I had to let you focus on the road or if I really did just run out of things to talk about this far into the ride. Maybe it was all three. Either way, I just started singing along to "Sugar" and waving my arm out of the open window.

It looked a little like a scene from a coming-of-age film I couldn't place: the shaky blue night sky, the cool oak trees rushing by, my arm undulating in the wind like a Chinese dragon kite.

We kept pulling through our neighborhood, with the trees all still shining their anachronistic green. The seasons in Houston never render quite right, and this Christmastime was no exception. It was the middle of winter and I was sweating through my shirt in the humidity, a sensation I had genuinely forgotten after more below-freezing, wind-chilling evenings than I could keep track of at university.

It was always like the trees were getting tricked by the consistently inconsistent Texas climate into not losing their leaves until a week before they would grow them back for spring. The trees were decidedly deciduous, but the beauty of autumn hues was something that I had to come to college to experience - it was almost like the trees were from somewhere else, taken from their habitats and forced to bunker down their roots into soil not for them.

Eventually, you pulled off to the curb in front of your house and I gave you a hug and a good night. You tried grabbing the box of Sprites you took home through my backseat window, but you dropped half of them on the car floor. We laughed about it for a while until you turned away from me and I watched you walk away. I wanted to say something more - to stop you and keep tonight going before I would have to retire back into my own solitude.

I wanted more, but I didn't know what to say. The trees didn't belong here either.

Steve Wang is a freshman from Missouri City, Texas majoring in Biomedical Engineering. He is an Arts & Entertainment Editor for The News-Letter.

For the team, the moment they qualified did not feel entirely real at first. In an email to The News-Letter, sophomore neuroscience major Arjit Singh, a captain of the team, described his initial reaction to qualifying for the tournament.

"My immediate reaction was honestly just shock. It was a moment where I just thought of all the hard work, time, and effort that we were putting into the team to succeed, and it all just felt like it was coming to fruition at that moment," he wrote.

Another dancer, junior Neuroscience major Anshu Sharda, described the experience of celebrating after the competition.

"Everyone was hugging each other, laughing, crying - there were so many tears and smiles; it was such a bittersweet moment, and I was overwhelmed with emotion," Sharda wrote of their Blowout performance. "We danced for each other, for our family we've built."

This year marks the first time in 26 years that the team has qualified for nationals, making their performance not only a personal milestone, but a historical moment for the team and the University.

Bhangra is a traditional folk dance that originated in Punjab, historically performed in celebration of the harvest festival Vaisakhi. Known for its high energy and expressive movements, bhangra is performed to the beat of the dhol, a double-sided drum, often accompanied by lyrics that tell stories of love, strength and celebration.

Dancers wear clothing rooted in Punjabi culture with men performing in a kurta (long shirt), pagh (turban) and chaddar (loose pants), while the women wear a salwar kameez and dupatta. These outfits are often adorned with intricate embroidery, jewelry and glitter, designed to enhance the energy and visual impact of performance. Accessories extend beyond clothing, including the Rumaalan, a handkerchief tied around a dancer's wrist to accentuate fast, expressive hand movements.

Props also play a central role in performance, most notably sapp and khunde, which dancers manipulate to add rhythm, texture and visual intensity to the set.

Today, bhangra has evolved into a global performance event, particularly within collegiate circuits, where teams blend traditional elements with modern choreography.

Sami Muhammad, a senior physics major and dancer on the team, talked about the range of bhangra dance styles in an email to The News-Letter.

"Bhangra is incredibly rich both in the depth of its form and also the breadth of styles," he wrote. "When we perform a set on campus, it's not just one bhangra performance. It's really an amalgamation of different sub-genres like jhummar or dhamaal, each of which have unique histories in Punjab region."

For members of Blue Jay Bhangra, this balance between tradition and individuality is part of what defines the team's identity. In an interview with The News-Letter, neuroscience sophomore Agalya Ramkumar explained the importance of expression among the members.

"What makes BJB truly unique is the concept of nakhra: the individual flair and confidence each dancer brings to the stage," she wrote. "Rather than being completely uniform, our team is a blend of distinct personalities and styles, and I think that's what makes watching us so exciting."

Behind the energy of competition lies months of preparation, and behind every performance is a level of planning and precision that often goes unseen. For Blue Jay Bhangra, much of that responsibility falls on captains Samhith Bhrugubanda, Milun Jain, Avani Daga and Arjit Singh.

In the weeks leading up to major competitions like Blowout, practices can stretch to three to four hours a day, on top of regular weekly rehearsals. Dancers spend this time refining synchronization, adjusting choreography and building stamina.

Forming a top 10 bhangra team is no easy feat. While designing the set and refining moves, the captains are involved in nearly every aspect of the team's performance. They lead practices, teach choreography and ensure that each dancer is aligned, not just in steps but also in timing, energy and expression.

In an interview with The News-Letter, senior biomedical engineering major and a captain on the team, Samhith Bhrugubanda explained the responsibilities that come with leading the team.

"The biggest challenge about being a captain is balance," he wrote. "Duties involve making choreography, creating formations, building a mix, leading practice... organizing schedules, handling logistics, and so much more."

For dancers like Tanvi Ranade, a senior majoring in Biomedical Engineering and Computer Science, that effort is visible in the final performance, as she described in an email to The News-Letter.

"After all the grit and dedication every single team member poured into the season, performing on that stage felt like the final piece clicking into place," she wrote.

This year's success did not come from a single performance or a single person, but from steady growth throughout the season from the whole team.

"I'd give a lot of credit to our four amazing captains for designing such a strong set and really believing in the dancers on this team," Ranade wrote. "At the same time, it was the collective commitment from everyone on the team... [that] made this season so successful."

For many members, the most meaningful experiences happened offstage. In response to a question about his favorite memory on the team, Muhammad recalled a moment of team bonding after a competition in Miami.

"We all spontaneously went to the beach right before our 6 a.m. flight. Between the immediate feeling after placing at the competition, and also the immense closeness we all felt over that weekend, it was a surreal moment at a pretty crazy time in the night that felt very special," he wrote.

Singh also described how those interested in joining the team can get involved by following BJB on social media (@bluejaybhangra) for information about tryouts.

"We're looking for things like energy, willingness to learn and understanding of the fundamentals. There is NO prior experience necessary, so anyone and everyone interested should definitely try out," he wrote.

Streetcars, also known as trolleys or trams, were a popular method of transportation across North America that involved smaller trains running along street-level tracks. Before the advent of the car, streetcars were a staple of the American city. Washington, D.C., was home to a vast network of streetcars that transported city dwellers across the D.C. area. However, once buses proved to be a cheaper, more efficient option, streetcar tracks in the capital and across the country were ripped up to make way for them, leaving only a few surviving systems. Streetcars were all but sentenced to become a relic until 2001, when the country's first modern streetcar line opened in Portland, Oregon. Portland's system runs on newly built tracks, using modern vehicles and served as the inspiration for many other midsize American cities to reconstruct their own streetcar networks, including Seattle, Atlanta and Washington, D.C.

It's safe to say the D.C. Streetcar was set up to fail from the beginning. In 2002, the city envisioned plans for a robust eight-line streetcar network, but ultimately only ended up building a partial segment of one of the lines, barring a line in the Anacostia neighborhood that began but never finished construction. The line boasted a connection with Union Station, the primary hub for commuter trains. Yet, as I personally found out during a visit on Sunday, March 28, the streetcar stop was remarkably difficult to find, requiring a confusing trek through the station's parking garage. Once I was actually able to find the stop, I was informed that, as the line was winding down its operations, Sunday service had been canceled. But its shoddy connection with Union Station was far from the only criticism of the DC Streetcar. It was slow, ridership was lackluster and, despite running along the street because the trains were fixed to tracks, they weren't able to maneuver through traffic in the same way a bus could. These factors, combined with the fact that the city's much faster D20 bus ran along the exact same route as the streetcar, led to the line's inevitable underutilization.

The low ridership can be blamed on the District of Columbia Department of Transportation and its refusal to construct the entire streetcar system. But the slow speeds and inability to move around stopped cars were, unfortunately, a feature, not a flaw, when it comes to streetcars as a whole. I'll note here that I am not arguing in favor of the efficiency of streetcars. They are simply not efficient. They have to be slow for safety reasons. They are not built to withstand the capacity of a metro system, so it makes sense that they have such comparatively low ridership. The DC Streetcar, objectively, was a poorly thought-out rendition of an inefficient mode of transit, but that doesn't mean it should have been shut down.

Instead, my argument in favor of streetcars deals with aesthetics. For lack of a better word, streetcars bring a certain level of chic to a city. While buses are undoubtedly more efficient, they're not considered as sophisticated as rail transit. Streetcars simultaneously represent both modern urbanism and a time before car dependency, an attractive idea to residents and urban planners alike. Sure, streetcars are slow, they're expensive and may not seem worth it, but especially when systems have already been built, it rarely makes sense to abandon them.

To see an example of this, we have to travel north of the border. Toronto was one of the only cities in North America that elected not to do away with its historic streetcar system. Despite initially planning to end their service by 1980, they eventually chose to modernize the system instead. The city's streetcars often draw ire from Torontonians for many of the same reasons that the DC Streetcar was criticized. They're slow and often subject to delay, especially during harsh Canadian winters. City officials have even mentioned phasing them out as recently as 2014. But the city's iconic red streetcars have since developed a sort of cultural cachet, becoming representative of Toronto itself in a way a bus never could.

A similar example is New Orleans, home to the longest continuously operating streetcar line in the world. Unlike the many modern streetcar networks that popped up in the 2010s, including the DC Streetcar, New Orleans' system operates as a heritage streetcar system, meaning that they operate older, more ornate trains. Heritage streetcar networks are actually somewhat common in the States, but many of them, like San Francisco's cable cars, operate more like tourist attractions than effective public transportation. However, in New Orleans, many locals actually use the system (though it still receives its fair share of critiques). Despite worries about unreliable schedules, the historic network counts almost four times as many riders as the DC Streetcar and, like in Toronto, has become a spectacle of the city's downtown.

The DC Streetcar never got the chance to materialize into a symbol of the city like in Toronto or New Orleans. Some proposed streetcars, like the Charles Street Trolley running from the Homewood campus all the way to the Inner Harbor, never got to materialize at all. It's worth mentioning that Washington D.C. also has a robust metro system to rely on, so I'll concede that the city didn't lose much after the service's termination. But officials cited operating costs as the reason why the DC Streetcar was discontinued, so it seems plausible that this closure will act as some sort of domino effect, encouraging other, less successful networks to shutter as well. This prospect is even graver for cities like Milwaukee and Oklahoma City, which report even fewer annual riders on their systems than the DC Streetcar did and whose streetcars are the cities' only form of rail transit whatsoever. These tracks are already laid across the country, so perhaps we ought to bear the cost, financially and efficiency-wise, if we want to continue the cosmopolitan project.

Henry Serringer is a freshman from New York, N.Y. majoring in Writing Seminars.

I've spent too many years huffing and puffing up small flights of stairs. I wouldn't know my way around a gym, so to spare myself some embarrassment and get in shape, I've decided to start taking long walks instead.

My favorite walk is from where I live in Mount Vernon to the park on top of Federal Hill. On my way there, I pass construction sites and a cereal bar, walk over manholes that leak a foul-smelling steam and find myself some thirty minutes later (fifteen if I'm fast) at the Inner Harbor. I cross a busy street and pass all the boats before crossing another busy street and climbing some poorly built stairs to get to the park with a view of the whole harbor. Sometimes I listen to music to help keep my pace lively. Other times I listen to bird calls, oncoming traffic and the people around me. With my headphones off I am approached more, and sometimes the conversation that ensues is pleasantly surprising. I once talked for thirty minutes with an old man at the Harbor about seagulls and the unnecessarily divided nature of religion in America today.

My second favorite walk is from Scotts Bates Commons to Remington. I like to go around Wyman Park and down 29th Street towards R House. At the time that I'm writing this, the trees are still bare, and the grass is just beginning to turn green. Everyone I pass is in a hurry to be somewhere, even the people who push baby carriages through the park. Unlike at the Harbor, any eye contact feels a little awkward and any conversation overheard is immediately forgotten.

My third favorite walk is just around Mount Vernon. It used to be a grand, imposing place where very wealthy people lived. Though there's cigarette butts and trash on every sidewalk and the roofs look a little worse for wear, you can see in the beautiful facades and large windows what a place it must have been. Its residents now certainly aren't the early American elite they used to be, but if anything that makes it feel more American. Once rich places can become cute and artsy and two hundred students who want to study music can live on the same block as George Peabody himself.

These walks have become more than exercise. Since I've started them, I've stopped trying to work beyond my attention span and inspiration level. Instead of wasting time trying to go beyond my limits, I find myself the time to reset by getting fresh air and sun. Nothing jogs the mind like remembering that you're more than a student. For the time that we live here, this is our city as much as wherever we call home. To remember that I'm just another Baltimorean is comforting when the world gets small. There are so many unique pockets of culture just a few feet away and this helps remind me of how multifaceted we all are. And who knows, if I keep this up, I may be able to gather up the mental and physical strength to hit the gym too.

Amelia Taylor is a sophomore from Potomac, Md. studying Writing Seminars and Voice Performance. In her column, she draws insights from seemingly random experiences that present themselves in the course of ordinary life.

We stood in the common lounge of our dorm, elbows brushing against each other as we huddled in a circle.

"Alright, we'll begin with an icebreaker!" Our first year mentor beamed, clasping her hands together. My eyes roamed around, taking in all the new faces around me. Will we be friends?

It was only the first week of college, and I had already lost count of the number of times I said my name, where I was from and what I intended to major in. And, some conversations moved beyond small talk, too - I connected with one girl over our shared love for Japanese stationery and aesthetic note taking.

Yet, as the semester went on, all these initial promises of friendship began to fade. I've always heard that college is a chance to "find our people" and cultivate "lifelong friendships," but I wasn't sure how that happened.

Lesson #1: Knowing Our Values

Making friends doesn't mean succumbing to peer pressure or compromising on our values. It means being with people who respect who we are, even if we don't agree on everything.

Oftentimes, finding this group of people means learning to say "no." Late-night parties feel overwhelming to me (and frankly I wouldn't have the time to go if I had an exam coming up), so if someone asked me to go to one, I would politely decline. The people who respect that decision - and don't try to pressure me into changing - are the people who are meant to be a friend.

Those who make me feel inferior for that decision are not worth spending time with (and I wouldn't have known that if I said "yes!").

Lesson #2: Calming the Nerves

It's nerve wracking to go up and approach people, especially those that we haven't met. Yet putting ourselves out there is key, and doing so can be subtle. During the first couple of weeks in college, the fire alarm went off during my multivariable calculus lecture. We all scurried out of the lecture hall, and for a moment, it felt as if I was in a high school fire drill again.

I found myself standing by myself on the grassy lawn outside the lecture hall, and a few feet away, I saw another girl standing by herself, as well. People crowded along with their friends around me, and I thought: This person could be a freshman, what if I go up and say hi? This thought pops up in my mind a lot, and most of the time, what holds me back from saying "hello," is the fear of sounding awkward. However, I've come to ask myself: what's the worst that can happen? Not much, in the grand scheme of things. At the worst, that person would shrug and walk away.

Anyways, I went up to this person and said "hello," and we started talking. It turns out, we were both freshmen and also lived in the same dorm building. Long story short, we ended up becoming friends and studied multivariable calculus together throughout the semester.

Another thing that makes it easier to approach people is showing up to the same places consistently. I've been going to Brody Cafe and to the biomedical engineering building a lot to study. Often, I see the same faces there, and after time, that makes it easier to start a conversation.

Lesson #3: Moving Beyond Small Talk

We won't move beyond "small talk" (ie, the basic, predictable conversation - where are you from, what are you majoring in, etc) with everyone, and that's okay.

Of course, there's not a scientific basis for this, but I don't think we're destined to "click" with everyone. A lot of people are nice, but they don't always share our same energy, and in that case, we're likely to just remain acquaintances. For the friends who I've had deeper, longer conversations with, there's a certain "spark" or "chemistry" involved - something unexplainable that brings us together.

But for the people we do move past the small talk stage - how do we let that continue? Friendship takes effort from both sides; the universe won't always spontaneously bring two people together. During spring finals week, I reconnected with a friend I met during my first semester of college - she reached out asking if I wanted to go for lunch. It was a refreshing conversation, and it felt good to catch up after such a long time. I feel that often, we're held back from reaching out because, what if the other person is too busy? What if they don't feel the same way? But, the reward definitely outweighs the risk - a new connection can form, or an old one can be rekindled.

Lesson #4: Quality Over Quantity

In college, I've met so many people, and had many conversations. It's easy to have many acquaintances, but the more friends we have, the less we're able to give to each person. That's alright, but I believe that a few deep connections are more valuable than many surface level ones. If something's wrong, or if we need to destress, I would want to go with someone who I feel close to. It takes time and repeated conversations to build this level of closeness and trust.

Lesson #5: As Fate Would Have It

Fate has a magical way of bringing people together. I met my closest friends unexpectedly - whether that was because we ran into each other at a school-organized social or ended up in the same dorm building. Yet, fate also has a way of having people drift away from each other - and it's not necessarily a bad thing. I never really saw the friends I made in orientation week afterward, since we embarked on different majors and didn't share any classes together. However, we found groups of friends to spend our time with, and there'll always be a connection between us when we meet again.

I don't have this friendship thing all figured out. At the beginning of my freshman year of college, making friends felt… confusing. But now, the spontaneous dinner trips and long walks around campus filled with laughter and conversation has helped me realize that there are people out there that we can relate to. We just don't know it yet.

Sareena Naganand is a sophomore from Piscataway, N.J. majoring in Biomedical Engineering. Her column, "The Daily Chai," is about finding happiness in simple, insignificant moments: the kind that makes us smile, wrapping around us like the warmth that comes from drinking a cup of tea.

The News-Letter: Could you give a brief description of your research projects?

Roma Desai: I started doing research my freshman fall in the Kim lab, which is a biomedical engineering lab. In that lab, they work on microphysiological systems, which essentially model organs on the chips. The project that I've been working on since my freshman year is on modeling the neuromuscular junction in vitro. We want to develop a test or biological assay, so you can assess different concentrations of drugs… and model neuromuscular junction disorders like or peripheral neuropathies. We're co-culturing motor neurons with skeletal muscle tissue and trying to grow those over a span of a few months.

N-L: For these chips, where do you start from, and then where do you end up?

RD: We start with induced pluripotent stem cells (iPSCs) and differentiate them in motor neurons. We seed the skeletal muscle tissue a week before innervating it with our motor neurons. It takes a while for the tissue to become fully functional. And you know when they're functional because they'll spontaneously twitch. We can also use optogenetics to cause the skeletal muscle tissue to respond. We also do tissue stiffness testing.

N-L: Do you have other significant research experiences you'd like to elaborate on?

RD: In my summer between freshman and sophomore year, I did an internship at the Wake Forest Institute for Regenerative Medicine. There I had the opportunity to work with liver organoids. The problem with organoids is that once they aggregate, the center begins to undergo necrosis. So our hypothesis was, if there's a perfusion system where it simulates human blood flow, then we could maybe improve oxygenation delivery. I think overall, from those experiences, I've really developed an interest in tissue engineering and regenerative medicine.

N-L: What grew your interest in tissue engineering?

RD: Very honestly, joining the Kim lab in freshman year. My BME focus area here is also cell and tissue engineering.

N-L: How do you think being at Hopkins has affected your accessibility to research and your ability to conduct research?

RD: I think it's been very helpful with getting research opportunities. Because of how research-heavy this institution is, I think most faculty have been very open to undergrads joining their labs. They've been very encouraging and supportive. I also joined another lab last fall, the Durr lab. He's also a BME professor, and his lab focuses on optics and computational research. The project I'm on is trying to detect infections in patients that have undergone peritoneal dialysis. In some cases, patients can develop infections as a complication. So I'm trying to be able to actively diagnose that. In today's age, you can't really do research without having a computational side to it.

N-L: What methods do you use in your computational research?

RD: We do a lot of image analysis with machine learning… a lot of different algorithms with real-time object identification.

N-L: Why do you want to pursue a PhD?

RD: I think that at the end of the day, I don't see myself being in an 8-5 job. I really enjoy the ability to formulate your own questions and your own ideas. And I think one of the only career paths that bring me up to do that and explore is academia. I always think of research as, you're forever going to be a student. There's always going to be something new for you to learn. I feel like doing research, if you take the right path, you can have a genuine impact on individuals in the future. I feel like research is very much true delayed gratification, because a lot of times technologies or findings that you may make in the lab don't make it to the clinic. But some do, and I think that's something I really like.

N-L: What are some challenges you've faced in your research?

RD: The timeline delays, very honestly. I think that we had fabricated 30 chips last fall, right? We couldn't seed them till the end of January. Also, I'm moreso dealing with small technical challenges of optimization? How do we prevent the chamber from leaking, etc?

N-L: How did you approach the process of applying for the Goldwater, and what advice do you have for prospective applicants?

RD: I found out about it at the end of my sophomore year on Hopkins' website. I saw that there was a pre-application due in the fall. And I was like, let me just submit it and see what happens. Four students from Hopkins go on to the national level. I think for the application itself, I worked on it over winter break because it was due around January 1. I picked my recommenders based on who I've been working with the longest. I made sure in my application that I was demonstrating scientific thinking. Also, I definitely got advice from my PhD student. He's a great mentor.

The Aronson Center is an organization aimed at connecting Krieger School of Arts and Sciences undergraduates with the School of Advanced International Studies in D.C. Headed by Lawrence and Parkinson, the center regularly hosts events targeted at informing the greater Hopkins International Studies community regarding current events.

According to Parkinson, who organized and participated in the event, the purpose of the conversation was to consider the causes and implications of the war from a political science perspective.

"[We] put this panel together in part because, if you're talking about a warbetween the U.S. and Iran and an additional war between Israel and Lebanon, this is obviously a huge issue in global politics from a political standpoint, a military standpoint, a human standpoint, an environmental standpoint and a moral standpoint," Parkinson said at the beginning of the discussion.

Each of the speakers then gave a short description of their views on the topic and how those views are informed by their area of expertise.

First was David, who began by mentioning that his early work focused on forcible regime change, a subject particularly relevant to the current war and, more broadly, U.S. foreign policy. He explained that the three main objectives of the war - denuclearization, regime change and military placidity - are distant and unlikely results given the current status of peace negotiations, despite his agreement that regime change is favorable. He concluded that diplomacy would have been a more favorable route.

David also discussed the importance of the closing of the Strait of Hormuz by the Iranian military as a tactical advantage that will be difficult for the U.S. to overcome.

"[Iran] can close the Straits of Hormuz, by which 20%, roughly, of oil and gas exits. It doesn't have to destroy every last ship, it doesn't have to have sophisticated weaponry, it doesn't have to have large numbers of troops - it can just threaten an occasional attack on an occasional tanker, and the straits are closed," David said. "These are international waterways that are vital to the world, and now it seems to be in the hands of Iran. Thank you, Donald Trump and friends."

Lawrence then gave an overview of her stance. As her studies are largely focused on comparative analysis, she described similarities and differences between previous U.S. invasions in the Middle East - namely in Iraq in 1991, Afghanistan in 2001, Iraq in 2003, Libya in 2001 and Syria in 2014.

The first similarity she cited was that U.S. presidents have consistently adopted anti-war platforms during their campaigns and early in their terms, while later in the timeline of the invasion they typically adopt more military-focused agendas.

"Once in power, the temptation to use American military might in the Middle East and North Africa has proven almost impossible for any president to resist," Lawrence said. "We have a very powerful and big military, so when issues arise, it's easy to choose a military option."

Lawrence also mentioned that regime change has been a consistent objective during these interventions, claiming that domestic unrest in the target countries has empowered administrations to exact invasions under the assumption that federal turnover will be simple.

"George W. Bush famously said that we would be greeted as liberators in Iraq. Donald Trump looked at the protests that happened in Iran and thought that it was plausible that military action would lead the Iranian people to overthrow the government," Lawrence said.

On the unique factors present in the ongoing war with Iran, Lawrence described a lack of communication by the administration to Congress, strategy experts and the American people regarding the intention to strike, and therefore a lack of clearly articulated goals. She also noted a difference in rhetoric; while in the past, presidents have typically spoken about civilian casualties as something to avoid, Trump has repeatedly used the threat of targeting civilians for strategic purposes. Lastly, she mentioned the difficulty the U.S. faces in trying to achieve its goals, given the unique ability of the Iranian regime, compared to previous adversaries in the Middle East, to damage the U.S. in return, namely through the closing of the Strait of Hormuz.

"The goals were to destroy Iran's capacity to build nuclear weapons and to change the regime, and none of those goals have been achieved," she said. "If anything, I could argue that they've been undermined, and that Iran, I would agree, is now negotiating from a place of strength."

The next speaker was Schmidt, who researches the projection of U.S. military power through bases across the world and the organization of the U.S. military through the combatant command system. He described the cost calculations of the U.S. military, emphasizing a perceived pressure among authorities to utilize the resources and sites the U.S. has placed in the Middle East and elsewhere.

"After the first Persian Gulf War, you have long term development of logistic centers, of infrastructures, of massive radars, and the development of what's called a Combined Air Operation Center in Qatar," Schmidt said. "There's no tight causal logic here, but we're involved in a lot of wars in the Middle East because we're there, because of the bases."

Schmidt also described the structure of military action around secret leasing agreements of U.S. bases through executive action without the input of Congress, making it difficult to analyze the projection of U.S. power from a logistical standpoint.

Parkinson then began by discussing lesser-known issues related to the conflict from her perspective as a researcher of organization mobilization in geographic areas experiencing crises. She first mentioned how the war impacts global food prices.

"Approximately 35% of the world's fertilizer travels through the Strait of Hormuz," Parkinson said. "You have fertilizer prices rising, which has implications for food prices, which has implications for domestic stability and our ability to eat the food that we like. This is already affecting farmers in the United States, they're already seeing the price of fertilizer rise - this is going to affect other countries as well."

Parkinson also discussed the danger of the production and release of AI propaganda by the Iranian Military Guard, potential coordination between the Russian and Iranian military forces and humanitarian crises born from conflict.

Another student asked about public perceptions of the Trump administration and U.S. foreign policy in general, to which David responded.

"The last time Congress declared war was World War II, over 80 years ago, and Congress was vested with the only authority to declare war," David said. "The fact that America has gone to all of these wars without congressional declaration is a real problem, not just for the Republicans, but for the Democrats as well."

In an email to The News-Letter, Parkinson explained how the faculty participants were selected for the discussion.

"Some faculty we would have loved to have included weren't able to make it on short notice, which is simply the reality at this time of the semester," Parkinson said. "We're extremely aware that no event can cover every aspect of the war and felt that scoping the event to political science and presenting a number of in-depth, experienced, research-based perspectives was one of many productive ways to organize a discussion."

Lawrence expressed the importance of hosting the event in an email to The News-Letter, both as a means of summarizing the main issues involved and providing an opportunity for students to get involved in a scholarly discussion on the subject.

"I believe it is important to provide historical context to understand contemporary events, and that's what I aim to do during the panel," Lawrence said. "We also wish to provide opportunities for students to raise questions and offer their own comments. Dialogue on important events within the university community is crucial for understanding and thinking about war, including its cause, effects, and how citizens can respond to acts of the government."

In an interview with The News-Letter, Charlie Langendorf, a freshman studying International Studies, explained what he learned from the event.

"I think a lot of our classes are focused on specific issues that don't necessarily talk about current events, so it was really nice to hear the people and the professors that I respect from class talking about the stuff that's happening today," Langendorf said.

Chris Zhang, another freshman attendee intending to major in International Studies and Political Science, described similar takeaways in an interview with The News-Letter.

"It was a really good experience, there was a lot of diversity in the perspectives being given on the Iran conflict. Being able to hear all of them was really nice and really informative in regards to everything in Iran right now," Zhang said.

The News-Letter: Could you describe your main research project or research interests?

Sameer Gabbita: My interests are in applying AI to study gene regulation, seeing how certain genes are regulated and improving our understanding of diseases and how they manifest. The project that I talked about for my Goldwater application was about an AI model designed to study regulatory DNA and how it modulates the expression of genes. In particular, I described my initial roles in developing that model, as well as more in depth, I was able to validate that the sequences that we generated had functional activity in cells.

N-L: What drew you to this particular field of using AI to model and understand gene regulation pathways?

SG: I've always been interested in the intersection of technology and medicine, and early in high school, I did a couple of internships applying AI to diagnose medical disorders. I think I kept coming back to what really were the underlying molecular drivers that led to these disorders. So that's when I first started really exploring these genomic and epigenomic scales of data, and that's when I first joined labs to really study this more in depth.

N-L: You've done research in a lot of different labs, and a lot of these different labs are using different approaches and different projects, but they're all centered around using AI to understand gene regulation. Could you describe how your different projects connect to what your main research interests are, and how they've led to these research interests developing over time?

SG: In each of these different labs and different projects, I've explored gene regulation in different ways. In the project that I talked about for my Goldwater application, it was more of a generative aspect. We're designing DNA - that involved developing DNA using our AI models to understand some of the regulatory grammars of DNA, and really being able to use that to design new sequences. In that project, I really performed more of a validation role exploring these landmarks of regulatory activity. I really focused on how that regulation differs between the synthetic sequences that we generated compared to sequences of the human genome. But more recently, I've also been exploring other aspects of AI modeling. I've been focused on perturbation modeling: if we knock out a gene, how does that affect the expression of genes across the genome? So that's been more of a mechanistic way to model gene regulation. I think these different approaches have really opened my eyes to know how diverse this field is and the different ways of understanding the human genome today,

N-L: One of the projects you've done focuses on perturbation, the other one focuses on developing synthetic DNA sequences. Different labs can use generative AI in different manners. Has there been a single experience or multiple experiences that have stood out to you and changed how you think about the usage of generative AI in genetics?

SG: I'd say my Goldwater project has been one of my most formative research experiences. It's really been my first foray into research. In the media and in pop culture today, we see a lot about using AI to text and different videos and things like that, but I view AI in biology as really trying to understand patterns within the data. You know, we have petabytes upon petabytes of data today of uncharacterized functional aspects of the human genome. I really feel like these generative AI models are a way of synthesizing all this information that's out there and being able to use that for novel use cases. The project that I talked about in my Goldwater application has applications in potentially correcting disease and the dysregulation of genes that arise from disease. But in other projects, we're using AI to predict how the state of a cell changes in response to the perturbation of a gene.

N-L: Moving forward, are there any specific gene regulation pathways or methods that you'd like to model using AI going forward?

SG: Something that I'm particularly interested in is modeling transcription factor binding and chromatin accessibility - how the interaction between DNA and proteins give rise to and affect the expression of different genes. As someone who aspires to be a physician scientist, I'd really love to translate these findings and identify potential biomarkers of disease and even identify therapeutic targets that we can develop therapies for.

In particular, I hope to develop self-supervised foundation models on genomic and single-cell data that capture how regulatory programs evolve across cell states and how genetic perturbations impact downstream cellular pathways, ultimately illuminating disease progression and identifying targets for therapeutic intervention.

N-L: Was the Goldwater Scholarship something you'd planned for since freshman year, or was it something that you discovered later on in your research career at Hopkins?

SG: I first heard about the Goldwater Scholarship from some upperclassmen. I actually had a couple friends who got the Goldwater at their institutions. I've been aware of it, and I was thinking about applying for a couple years. I was debating whether I should apply my sophomore year, but I ultimately just went for it this past school year, and I think it's definitely been a really important journey. It provided a lot of time for me to reflect on what I hope to do with the rest of my career, and I just thought it was great.

N-L: Using the support from the Goldwater Scholarship, what are your plans for the rest of your undergraduate degree, as well as after your undergraduate experience?

SG: I hope to study regulation using AI this summer. I'm going to be continuing some research that I started this past summer. So I'm really looking forward to that. And, as I mentioned earlier, I hope to become a physician scientist and be able to translate these basic science discoveries to develop new therapeutics, technologies and diagnostics.

N-L: You're in labs on the Hopkins campus as well a lab at the Harvard Medical School. What are your different takeaways from your experiences at Hopkins labs, and what have you learned from labs outside of Hopkins - what are those two experiences like as an undergraduate researcher?

SG: Here at Hopkins, I'm a research assistant in the Department of Neurosurgery, where I work on developing and applying data science approaches to enhance how we're able to care for neurocritically ill patients. One of my biggest takeaways is formulating the right clinical questions: sometimes, we see these models with 99% accuracy on these different biomedical data sets, but oftentimes it's really about how robust these models are and whether they really enhance the way that physicians are able to use them to treat patients. So I think that's been a really formative approach, both by interacting with physicians here at Hopkins, and shadowing firsthand, seeing how we're able to integrate these technologies in the [neuro intensive care] unit.

Beyond Hopkins, I focus more on basic science approaches. Elsewhere, I am involved in Harvard Medical School, Massachusetts General Hospital and Boston Children's Hospital. That's more to look at some of the mechanistic properties underlying gene regulation: the perturbation modeling and generative approaches. It's been a good mix where I've been able to see firsthand how we're able to translate these technologies to the point that they can be used by clinicians to support patients, but also on the other hand, really understanding how we go from this ocean of data into some actionable insights into what a gene does or how that can just enhance our understanding of lesser known biological processes.

N-L: You're involved in the Executive Board of the AI society at Hopkins. How has that role informed or complemented your research?

SG: I think the AI society has been great. We have a lot of members that are really passionate about applying AI, not only to medicine, but to many other domains. One of the really exciting parts about being on the AI club is being able to interact with so many diverse members with unique perspectives. I think one of the really cool parts about the AI societies is that we have different club-wide projects. In my freshman year, there were members who created an ASL interpretation app. This year we're working on emergency department triage systems. Overall, working with a lot of people and applying AI to problems has been really inspiring.

N-L: You're in so many different labs and also in campus organizations; how do you go about managing all of these different experiences? Do you have any advice for students hoping to get involved in research or on a similar path as you for an MD-PhD?

SG: My biggest philosophy is that if you're really passionate about something, you'll find a way to make the time for it. So I'm very, very passionate about the type of research and the type of work that I do on campus. I think it's also just about having good expectations set with your mentors - having open communication with everyone you're interacting with, so you're not hanging people out to dry.

I also have been fortunate to have some of the most supportive mentors during my research journey. When you're finding a lab, make sure that the lab culture is really, really supportive, and that it's a place where you actually want to spend time. Your lab is also there to guide you and really support you when you need it.

Most importantly, find mentors and [principal investigators] who genuinely care about your growth as a researcher, such as giving you the intellectual freedom and independence to pursue your own ideas, rather than treating you as someone who is simply there to execute assigned tasks.

The News-Letter: Could you briefly describe your main research project or research interests?

Oliver Nizet: My main research project right now is looking at enhancing CAR T cells' ability to infiltrate prostate cancer tumors. I'm doing that by engineering these synthetic velocity receptors that bind to endogenously secreted cytokines to enhance motility. Outside of that, I've also done computational work on 3D multi-omic mapping of human fallopian tubes. I'm generally interested in the intersection of engineering, biology and computation.

N-L: What drew you to this particular field?

ON: I started coding in fifth grade, and that was a big interest of mine. Then when I got to high school, I started taking biology courses, and I felt like that was really where my interest was, [in how] to apply these concepts. I had that computational background, and the biological interest really grew as I got involved in research. In my first research project, I wrote a Python program to automate the determination of minimum inhibitory concentrations for different antibiotics. I used my coding skills here to help accelerate the biological workflow and so that exemplified my interests.

N-L: How did you get started on your research?

ON: I've been in the Denis Wirtz Lab since my freshman spring. Over that time, I've worked on a couple different projects. I started out looking to use CAR T cells against ovarian cancer, and then I moved into that mainly computational project, which was the fallopian tube mapping, and now velocity receptor CAR T cells for prostate cancer. I've had a very supportive group of mentors: my [principal investigator (PI)], Prof. Wirtz, as well as my supervisor, who's a graduate student, Vasco Queiroga. They've been enormously helpful with teaching me all I need to know and supporting my scientific thinking. They teach me how to run experiments, but the more important part is understanding the science behind it and why we're doing things. So those skills are what allow me to come up with my own questions and design experiments in a way to achieve a desired goal.

N-L: What kind of skills have you learned across your research projects?

ON: The project [at Hopkins] to engineer these velocity receptors to increase CAR T cell motility involves cloning and genetic engineering. We have to create viruses, so we have to transfect cells and harvest viruses, then transduce the T cells that have been isolated from patients' blood. From there, we can integrate these velocity receptors and as well as the CAR receptors into the genome of these T cells. After that, to test them, I've learned how to perform both 2D and 3D cell killing assays, which are in vitro ways to assess the cytotoxicity of our cells. I've also learned in vivo skills working with mice, which include injections, blood collections and measuring tumor volume.

At the University of California San Diego (UCSD), [I've conducted research there] at the Liangfang Zhang's lab the summers after my freshman year and after my sophomore year. My primary project there involved isolating cell membranes from induced pluripotent stem cells, which express oncofetal antigens. When these are coated onto a nanoparticle, the induced pluripotent stem cell membranes can be injected as a cancer vaccine. Since oncofetal antigens are present on both stem cells as well as cancer cells, your immune system can build up a response.

N-L: Were there any challenges that you've faced during your research? If so, how did you overcome them?

ON: Certainly. When you start out, maybe in a new lab, it's like a foreign environment so that will of course come with challenges, like learning where everything is, how to run certain protocols, how to do an experiment and maintain sterility within your working environment. But just with practice, that initial stress and difficulty goes away.

There's still challenges when it comes to just your results not lining up. One specific one is that when we're trying to transduce these T cells with our CARs and our velocity receptors, we see low transduction efficiencies. So only a small percentage of our cells are actually getting the receptors we want to express. That's definitely an issue when we're trying to test the therapy, since the therapy is not as potent as we want it to be. We're just having to navigate that and find ways to optimize the workflow or take a different approach to overcome that.

N-L: What does receiving the Goldwater scholarship mean to you both personally and professionally?

ON: It's a huge honor. I'm really grateful to be a part of this community, and it's really rewarding, the recognition of the efforts that I've put into, both my lab research here at Hopkins, as well as research I've done at UCSD over the summers [in addition to] my achievements in my courses. That feels really good. Professionally, I feel like it's going to help me immensely going forward. I'm applying to graduate schools in the fall, and the actual application process to Goldwater was incredibly useful in learning how to write a research essay and really reflecting on my past research experiences. [Asking myself] "What were the outcomes?" for both the science itself and on a personal level. Looking back on that journey and compiling and writing is certainly going to be helpful going into my graduate school applications.

N-L: What future plans do you hold career-wise and regarding your research?

ON: For immediate next steps, I also was fortunate to receive the Summer Provost's Undergraduate Research Award here at Hopkins. I'm going to be staying here over the summer to continue my research project on velocity receptor CAR T cells for prostate cancer. During my senior year, I plan to take on another project in the lab, hopefully something that's more computation oriented, because that's a thing that I'm equally interested in. I will be applying to PhD programs in either chemical engineering or bioengineering in the fall, and I think that kind of hybrid approach is something that I'm going to be putting forth to help me stand out, as well as something that I'm looking for in labs for my graduate study, where they're integrating both wet lab and computation.

N-L: What advice do you have for students who want to apply for a similar scholarship or follow a similar path like yours in research?

ON: To start, I think finding a lab that's a good fit is incredibly important. The primary two labs I've worked with were the Liangfang Zhang lab at UCSD and then the Wirtz lab here at Hopkins. I've had incredibly supportive PIs as well as graduate student mentors. You, of course, want to get involved in research early if you're looking to apply for the Goldwater Scholarship, but you need to find a group that's a good fit. So, you shouldreach out to professors, send an email, talk to a few [professors] and find a lab that seems like a healthy, supportive environment. Then when you get into the application season, they'll be incredibly helpful. Like my supervisor and PI were very helpful with reviewing my Goldwater application and providing feedback. So having that effort reciprocated by them is very much appreciated. Finding a good environment like that and doing as much research as you can while maintaining high effort in your classes is the best way to build a strong application.

Estelle Chen: "Cassette County" by David Berman

Real fans of the American folk-rock band Silver Jews know that the lead singer David Berman published a poetry collection in 2003 titled Actual Air. "In 1984, I was hospitalized for approaching perfection" sings Berman in the beginning of the band's most famous song, "Random Rules," and the same wry, arrogant, slightly absurd yet touching informality follows him into his poems. Of the many great poems in Actual Air, my favorite is "Cassette County," a free-verse ode to being sarcastically genuine and finding the ironic-poetic details of everyday life. Berman's greatest skill, to me, lies precisely in twisting the minutia of American habit into witty pearls. He asks, "why do mothers carry big scratched-up sunglasses / in their purses?" He waves, "Hello to the era of going to the store to buy more ice / because we are running out." The poem rambles freely, maybe too freely, abruptly shifting from witticism to witticism. So many observations distill each into their own line, forming dozens of little arrows shooting more or less at the same target: this general mood about the American mundane. We're all experiencing pretty similar mundanities of life; I hope this poem speaks to you about them as much as it speaks to me.

Saffron Hallet: "Considering the Snail" by Thom Gunn

Very few poems ponder the question: "What is a snail's fury?" Perhaps more should. It is in Thom Gunn's "Considering the Snail" (1961) that the audience is shrunk down to the size of the gastropod to witness the might and existence of this seemingly benign creature. We observe the snail on its eternal journey, an alien-like creature whose inner world is unknown to us. We can only measure its progress by its trail and wonder. Does it know where it is headed? Will it ever reach this place? Does it care? This poem brings into question our own passions and plans, as well as our place in the grand scheme of life. The lines "the bright path he makes where rain / has darkened the earth's dark" are not only a vivid representation of a rain-soaked scene but also a symbol of the strength in perseverance and the moments of joy and success that sometimes fall to the back of our minds. Yet, they remain in our history. Through this consideration of such a far removed lifeform, Gunn implores us to view the remarkability of nature and reflect on ourselves.

Kevin He: "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"Let us go then, you and I," Go where? It is this unwillingness to go, that paralyzing decision, that makes us all Prufrock.

Far from Eliot's most challenging poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" wallows in its simplicity, its shame: "No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be." Polonius will suffice. And how could I ever be him? Life is just a bunch of choices, anyways. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? Stifling anxiety, I declare.

We pity the Fool, but what happens when we are the Fool? You know, we are almost, at times, the Fool.

At face value, we are regaled with a tale of insecurity and of complete self-doubt. In many ways, "Prufrock" is the anti-epic. Maybe, that's why Eliot opens with a quote from Dante's Inferno. Like Guido, Prufrock's many shortcomings are never heard by the world. Like Lazarus, no one would listen. Who would ever listen to the existentialist musings of this pathetic man? Only us.

Every line is meticulous; the poem a self-replenishing well of angst. Nothing speaks to me more than finding time for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions too.

River Phan: "Paradoxes and Oxymorons" by John Ashbery

John Ashbery is the only poet who can get me to like two of the most trite poetic conventions combined together: free-verse and the use of the word "poem."

In "Paradoxes and Oxymorons," Ashbery's opening line tells you exactly what he seemingly sets out to do. He says, "This poem is concerned with language on a very plain level." However, consistent with Ashbery's disjunctive style, the poem moves from useful instructiveness to unpredictability. Suddenly, the reader is addressed: "Look at it talking to you. You look out a window / Or pretend to fidget." The poem becoming an "it" adds distance, which continues: "You have it but you don't have it. / You miss it, it misses you. You miss each other." Expectations are set-up and subverted: "And before you know / It gets lost in the steam and chatter of typewriters." The enjambment between "know / It" severs the common phrase, but "the chatter of typewriters" grounds itself. This push-and-pull provokes the reader's agency and ability to interpret; how close can you get?

Ashbery's manipulation of intimacy and distance makes the poem's final transformation puzzling but comforting: "The poem is you." Despite its conclusion, much of the poem remains a mystery. This earlier thought, from the speaker, fascinates me: "I think you exist only / To tease me into doing it." Is "you" still the reader? Is "it" still the poem? Are they switched? Does it matter? Poetry teases but we tease too. Only paradoxes on some, possibly plain, level could clarify it all.

Myra Saeed: "Wait for Her" by Mahmoud Darwish

Darwish's poetry has always spoken my heart's language, mimicking even its unique dialect. "Wait for Her" tenderly follows a speaker advising the reader to, quite literally, wait for his lover. Whether she is arriving late or early, or if she's sitting in a garden, letting the birds rest in her hair, the reader's love must push him to wait for her.

I've always cherished the gentle, divine love that overrides anything worldly; even if an individual inconveniences, irritates and jabs at you, you can't help but remain patient, over and over again. Darwish's depiction of true love overpowering immediate gratifications, especially when the poem advises the reader to "offer her water before wine," feels like a soft hug rather than a pacing romance. The poem's gentle tone contains a sweetness that isn't overpowering, almost like a soft cream that you top a perfectly bitter hot chocolate.

Darwish's imagery, especially his contrast between masculine and feminine energies, lingers long after the poem ends, reinforcing how the waiting lover remains grounded to protect his beauty. In contrast, the beloved moves with fluidity and grace, almost ethereal in her presence. This interplay feels complementary, as each individual brings out the best in their counterpart and waiting feels more like intentional devotion. I've simply never read anything quite as romantic as "Wait for Her."

Riley Strait: "Long Week Talking" by Natalie Shapero

I'm supposed to be writing about my favorite poem right now, but that's too much of an ask. It's the end of the school year that will mark the midpoint in my college career. This is not a long week talking, but a long year talking. All I can muster is to write about a poem I want to write about at this moment, which is Natalie Shapero's - speak of the devil! - "Long Week Talking."

The speaker compares death to a garbage chute but knows it should really be "the pneumatic tubes // at banks of the past." The speaker is someone I feel I would get along with, could have an age-appropriate drink with, because they say, "I know a bank // should be the operative metaphor / for every facet of existence, every time." They're serving a chill, low-key anticapitalist vibe but in a way that relates to the modern malaise of us apathetic youth, differentiated from our shrill counterparts by the lead in our dragging heels. It's spring now, and I'm walking slow.

"Long Week Talking" asks me to think of the things in my life which should always serve as my operative metaphors, the source material for everything else. What could be so important and all-reaching as banks? Course registration is on the mind. Perhaps death is like that: adding classes to your cart, enrolling for your first semester of forever, searching course evaluations to see how much work it really is.

Steve Wang: "Tang's Repeated Refrain: Reeds Fill the River Isle" by Liu Guo

Rarely does the process of accessing a poem come into discussions of poetry. Unfortunately, when you're a barely Mandarin literate American-Born Chinese (or ABC, as your parents love calling you) trying to find Tang dynasty poetry online, it can be pretty hard to find anything intelligible to you.

You came here after the closing lines of @ur.chinese.unc's instagram reel pulled you down the rabbit hole and wouldn't let you go. It took you twenty minutes of googling and lots of ignoring Google AI to even find an English language archive of Liu Guo's poem, let alone a translation.

So instead of just trusting the translation, you sit there in your significantly-more-Chinese roommate's chair as he reads the poem character by character with you. You both struggle through as he essentially does all of the interpretation for you.

It's a touching poem about nostalgia, isolation, and returning to your childhood hometown. "Do old friends still breathe?"

It's the perfect encapsulation of what makes Chinese poetry beautiful to you: the lush brevity of each line, the lifetimes of nuance in just three characters, the swinging between nature and humans. Not just that, it seems like this Chinese noble from a millennium ago feels a lot like you. And of course, the famous last lines: "I'd buy osmanthus and wine for old-time cheer-yet never taste that carefree spirit of my youth."

Your roommate thinks you're being a little dramatic.

I've always been a picky eater. Perhaps not "picky" in the traditional sense, but rather that I am very specific about the food and nutrition that goes into my body. Even at twenty-three, I still diligently adhere to my parents' rules about no caffeinated drinks and only eating instant ramen once per month, I still avoid artificial sweeteners (even if the science on that may be coming back now), and I always ensure every meal consists of a sufficient balance of carbs, veggies and proteins.This mindset has always seemed like common sense to me; after all, the food that nourishes my body will ultimately determine a big part of my physical health, so why wouldn't I be picky about it?

Recently, however, I came to a realization: if I am so careful about what feeds into my body, why don't I exercise the same selectivity for what feeds into my mind?

While the consequences for poor nutrition of the brain may be less apparent, lately I have experienced the ramifications. Despite my best efforts, I have recently fallen into the black hole of doomscrolling. Having only gotten my first phone in my sophomore year of high school and never being the most "hip," I never ran into a problem of phone addiction like so many teenagers. Even through most of college, phone use never proved to be an issue. Now, I do not know when the tipping point occurred, but somewhere, somehow in the past two years I devolved into a habit of bed-rotting, scrolling through an infinite feed of Instagram reels. I reach for my phone when I wake up and find twenty minutes gone. I find myself scrolling before bed. And my productivity in study sessions plummet as I find myself picking up my phone more and more often.

This scrolling almost always leaves me feeling empty and drained. Yet, in spite of these consequences, it only seems to get worse with each passing day, no matter how many strategies I try to overcome it. And I know I'm not alone. Much of our generation has fallen victim to this ever-increasing habit of doomscrolling, burning away our finite hours on Earth sitting sedentary in front of a blinking screen. But as it turns out, it's not entirely our fault.

As blogger Gurwinder points out on his Substack, information is like sugar. Humans biologically crave it as an evolutionary relic of a time when it was scarce. But in our modern society, where it is easily available in excess, this craving has become a curse. Worse, corporations like Meta have learned to leverage this biological drive to harvest our time, money, and attention for their gain. As Gurwinder writes, we are in the middle of an "intellectual obesity crisis."

In my effort to combat this curse, I decided to go on a media diet. I deleted Instagram off my phone and decided to get reacquainted with the concept of boredom. And honestly, I am feeling much better for it.

At first, there were short term symptoms of withdrawal - perhaps an indication of how deep this "addiction" runs. The silence that replaced the constant noise felt deafening. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable to sit there, not consuming any content. But after a while, the silence stopped feeling like it needed to be filled: it began to just feel quiet. Peaceful. A tranquility that nicely contrasted the constant noise of today's environment of perpetual information overload.

And eventually my mind began to wander. Without a convenient source of mental stimulation to keep my brain satiated, I was forced to find more meaningful ways to stay occupied. I started reading more again. I started writing more. I tried my hand at arranging music.

The truth is, it is not as nice and neat as it sounds. This intellectual obesity crisis cannot be cured overnight. Even now, as I write this, I feel the sporadic urge to pick up my phone and scroll. And like with physical health, a cold-turkey diet may not be the right approach for everyone. Nevertheless, I think we can agree we must reflect on our habits and be more deliberate about what information we allow to color our mental landscape.

So while people may scoff at picky eaters, I will continue being selective. After all, my pickiness is only a sign that I care about my physical health. And in an age where AI slop and misinformation are flooding our channels, where chatbots and algorithms are enticing us to leave the thinking to them, I must protect my intellectual health as well. So whether it's a diet or replacing informational junk food with nutritious alternatives, I resolve to become a proud picky consumer of information.

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.

The event began with the oath-taking ceremony among the members of the Senate Executive Board before the rest of the senators, caucus representatives, and class councils. President of the Student Body Jason Yu delivered a speech during his inauguration as part of his team's mission statement.

"We will ultimately work for the students," Yu stated. "Every great change on campus starts with students who aspire to do something different... Together, we are one Blue Jay family."

Yu added that there were plans to make SGA's actions more transparent and engaging with the student population through organized events.

The newly inaugurated executive team includes Student Body Vice President Sumire Sumi, Secretary Honora Muratori, and Treasurer Amy Xu. Grace Guan and Yun (Wing) Chen will serve as Co-Chairs of Programming, overseeing campus events and initiatives. The elections featured 1,286 voters.

The Senate featured representation from various academic departments, RSO categories, and caucuses, such as the WSE and KSAS senators, advocacy, culture and identity, and religion caucuses senators. The class councils and programming boards for every respective year were also appointed, along with leadership of The HOP.

Outgoing Student Body President Vishnu Dontu also gave his farewell address. He highlighted some of the work achieved by the outgoing administration and stressed the importance of continuity in SGA. The initiatives implemented by the administration during the past year include bills regarding transparency and providing access to feminine hygiene products around campus.

Dontu stated that the transition into another administration should not imply an end, but rather a continuation of the work. It was highlighted that new administration members should continue to do the work already started and continue collaborating with both administrative officials and students.

The presenters were Arle Havens, Isabelle Avci and Kathryn Stutz. Havens is the curator of rare books and manuscripts at the Virginia Fox Stern Center for the History of the Book at Johns Hopkins' Sheridan Libraries. Avci and Stutz are both graduate students and Stern Center Graduate Student Curatorial Fellows at Hopkins. Avci is a Ph.D. candidate in the History Department, studying early history in Western Europe, and Stutz is a Ph.D. candidate in the Classics Department, studying ancient Greek and Roman narratives.

During the lecture, the presenters showed and analyzed various primary sources, including maps, novels and pamphlets from the John Work Garrett Library at the Evergreen Museum & Library. This specific collection highlights Maryland's early colonial history, in celebration of the semiquincentennial, or 250th anniversary, of the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the sesquicentennial, or 150th anniversary, of the founding of Hopkins.

Havens began the event by explaining that Garrett aimed to collect any works published before 1700 that mentioned Maryland, expanding on the collection that his father had previously started.

"[Garett] built [his father's 17th century collection of Maryland publications] to 209 [items] by the time of his death. Most of the books were bought individually at auction, except fora very propitious sale of the estate of a New Yorker who used to be a Baltimorean, and he nabbed 15 all at once," Havens said. "These books are so incredibly rare, some of them exist in only a handful of copies, and they only exist in large part... at the Evergreen Museum and Library."

Havens then showed a book from Garrett's collection, Thomas Harriot's A Briefe and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia, which is one of the earliest known accounts of the Chesapeake Bay and Virginia. Havens described that Harriot traveled with John White, an illustrator, to document the lives of the Indigenous populations of Chesapeake Bay and Virginia.

Next, Avci transitioned into presenting a Dutch map from 1651 that shows competing territorial claims in the Mid-Atlantic coast. She emphasized that it can be interpreted as a different medium that presents similar ideas as Harriot's book.

"It's worth thinking of this -what we would call a map - almost as a text as well, because it's giving the same information that Harriot is giving in a larger ethnographic work, but in these little visual snapshots," Avci said. "[There are] representations of Indigenous technology. These canoes are labeled, and this is how they are made: the canoe is dug out and burned out with fire."

Afterward, Avci displayed a later edition of John Smith's The Generall Historie of Virginia. Because this edition was printed in 1632, the year of the chartering of Maryland, it includes all three monarchs who spanned the period of the founding of Virginia and Maryland. Avci specifically pointed out King Charles I, because Maryland received its name in honor of his wife, Queen Henrietta Maria.

When Havens asked Avci who the audience for this work was intended to be, Avci responded that on one hand, it is directed toward wealthy monarchs who had the money to support colonial efforts. However, on the other hand, it is also directed at anyone who could be persuaded to back John Smith's efforts, as he often amplifies his own role, expertise and experiences in the book.

Avci then moved on to showing A Relation of Maryland (1635), which is a promotional pamphlet for Maryland that also includes copies of the charter. She explained that Maryland was chartered by King Charles I in 1632 and granted to Lord Cecil Calvert, also known as Lord Baltimore. His father, George Calvert, initially wanted to establish the colony, but he died just days before the charter was granted, which is why it went to his son, Cecil, instead.

Avci emphasized that the purpose of this work is to convince people to settle in Maryland. She described how the text included packing lists regarding the specific clothes, food and household tools people should bring to Maryland, emphasizing its practical purpose.

"And so we ask ourselves, well, what do these people know about Maryland while they are being asked to do this?" Avci said. "And this book is supposed to give [information] to them in simple terms and in great detail... [for example,] chapter seven is titled 'Instructions and advertisements for such as shall intend to go or send to plant in Maryland' [which is] very direct and clear."

Finally, Stutz presented The Golden Fleece (1626) by William Vaughan. However, he wrote the work under the pseudonym "Orpheus Junior," which is a reference to Orpheus, an ancient Greek poet who could charm all animals and plants. Stutz highlighted that Vaughan's purpose was to market the New World as a perfect place that settlers should move to.

"What William Vaughn is doing is picturing [the New World] as [an] idyllic location, or at least a location that is a source of great wealth," Stutz said. "The golden fleece in question is a reference to the story of Jason and the Argonauts... This particular image is what William Vaughn wants to imagine for colonization of the New World. It's a place where you will go and find a golden fleece to bring back and decrease the type of poverty that he's seeing around him in Wales."

The last work spotlighted in this lecture was Robert Hayman's Quodlibets, which translates to "Whatever you will" in Latin. Stutz explained that it is one of the first texts written in the New World, showing what life in the colonies was like.

The event concluded with a question-and-answer session.

The News-Letter: Could you briefly describe your main research project or research interests?

Henry Le Chang: My research journey started in high school where I worked in the lab of Allan Basbaum with Sakeen Kashem at UCSF, where I studied a mouse model of neuropathic itch. That got me really interested in understanding the biological mechanisms behind pain and itch. When I came to Hopkins, I joined the Xinzhong Dong Lab, which has done a lot of work on itch, and I worked with a postdoc, Taylor Follansbee, to help understand pain-modulating neurons in the brainstem. My main project, which is what I wrote the Goldwater about, was understanding how neutrophils, specifically neutrophils expressing a receptor called MRGPRX2, cause itch and atopic dermatitis. Overall, I've done a lot of work in understanding how pain and itch occur, and that's my main research interest: the biology behind pain and itch.

N-L: What drew you to this particular field?

HLC: I always thought neuroscience and biology were really cool. I ended up joining a lab that did that research, and I had a really great experience, so that's what drew me to this specific field.

N-L: What skills have you used or learned throughout this process?

HLC: One really important skill is being able to deal with failure and expect failure, and still keep going. In research, pretty much 90% of the things you do just aren't going to work out, and you just got to try other stuff. My project was funded by the [then named] Woodrow Wilson Research Fellowship. [For] the project I wrote for that proposal, I spent about a year, two semesters and a whole summer, and I ended up scrapping it because I got no results out of that. I had to use the skills I learned from that project and apply them to something else, which ended up being more successful and helped me win the Goldwater. So, I would say being able to deal with failure is really important.

N-L: How has the University supported your research exploration and independence?

HLC: The Wilson Fellowship was a big one because it funded me to stay here for two summers, which allowed me to really dive into my research and gain independence, so I think that's a big one. Overall, Hopkins has a lot of funding opportunities for research, which is really good. Also, an important thing for having successful research experience is having good mentors. A lot of what I've done and the skills I've developed come from having great mentors. The postdoc I work with, Taylor Philansky, has helped me a lot with applications like Woodrow Wilson and Goldwater. He also put in a lot of work to help me develop my own independent research project and train me, so I could work more independently.

N-L: What inspired you to apply for the Goldwater Scholarship?

HLC: In terms of what attracted me to the Goldwater Scholarship, I was especially drawn to its emphasis on supporting students who are committed to long-term research careers. Beyond the recognition, I value being part of a community of students who are deeply engaged in scientific discovery, as well as the opportunity to continue developing my work with additional support.

N-L: What future plans do you have for your research?

HLC: Looking ahead, I plan to continue studying the biological mechanisms underlying chronic pain and chronic itch. My work focuses on neuroimmune interactions in the skin, particularly how immune cells and sensory neurons communicate to drive persistent itch in conditions like atopic dermatitis. Moving forward, I am interested in further dissecting these pathways at both the molecular and systems level, and exploring how these mechanisms might translate across different disease contexts. Ultimately, I hope to contribute to the development of more effective treatments for chronic sensory disorders.

N-L: What advice do you have for students who want to follow a similar path?

HLC: Start doing research early and try to choose a good lab, a lab that is supportive. Having a supportive lab environment can go a long way in your success.

The two main components of the sport include sparring (kyorugi) and forms (poomsae). Sparring is a free-form fight utilizing dynamic techniques between two contestants wearing body gear with the goal of landing accurate, well-timed strikes on the opponent's armor. Forms is a structured pattern of attacks and defense movements against imaginary opponents. Taekwondo additionally involves breaking boards or bricks, self-defense movements and other fundamental, disciplined training in movements and proper techniques.

The sport is built on five core tenets: Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-Control and Indomitable Spirit. These shape an individual's character, behavior and mentality, and are carried during and outside of training. The tenets are perceived as more than simply how to conduct oneself. Rather, they are about how to be transformed and actually live out these philosophies. One way this is enforced is through "Kyeongrye," or bowing down. Bowing down is a practice of mutual respect, recognition, humility and discipline toward those of higher rank, opponents, training partners and even when entering or leaving the training mats or school. Other forms of Taekwondo etiquette include cleanliness, proper wear of the uniform (Dobok), keeping the training place (Dojang) tidy, polite addresses to higher-ranked instructors, strict adherence to punctuality and maintaining focused silence during training.

Training integrates Korean terminology, most commonly counting to 10, as well as other basic instructions. The most commonly used is "Ki-hap," which is a shout or yell. Specifically, the "Ki" is a focus of the individual's spiritual energy, while the "Hap" is produced by a powerful, vocal exhalation. A literal Korean translation is "to focus, or synthesize." This practice, however, extends beyond the concentrated harnessing and demonstration of energy.

Taekwondo instructor Yoshi Ota describes it as "...the ultimate form of self representation," with great potential to enhance strength, awareness and breathing. Ki-hap helps with fostering confidence, startling the opponent and bringing a harmonized balance between the mind and the body.

There is higher acuity formed in body control and resilience when utilizing this shout effectively. Ki-haps are commonly used during the termination of drills or sets, at specific points in forms, in self-defense and in sparring training. Different dojangs also promote various variations and lengths of this shout, such as "Ai-yah" or "Ah," where the key practice throughout all forms is essentially starting from the diaphragm to generate needed power.

A major international organization affiliated with the sport is the International Taekwon-Do Organization (ITF). The ITF was founded in 1966 by General Choi Hong Hi, a leader of Korean resistance during Japan's colonization of Korea and a founding member of the South Korean army. Not only is he credited with naming the sport, he also unified a breadth of civilian Martial Arts Kwans into disciplines we know today. As an active educator and ambassador of the sport, he has led demonstration teams worldwide and authored several books, including a 1972 textbook "Taekwon-Do: The Art of Self-Defence," recognized as the "bible of Taekwon-Do."

The ITF emphasizes discipline, practical applications and philosophies of life alongside physical, self-defense-oriented aspects. On the other hand, World Taekwondo (WT) is more sport-oriented and competition-based, mainly connected to Olympic-style taekwondo that is recognized by the International Olympic Committee. Participants wear electronic scoring gear that detects and responds to impacts via sensors. This style relies on agility, sharp reflexes, dynamic movement and high-impact kicking (since kicks score higher than punches). The spectrum of ITF hand techniques is broader than WT. Its forms additionally involve deeper stances, low kicks and self-defense, and ITF is thus known to be the more 'traditional style' of taekwondo.

USA Taekwondo is the National Governing Body specific to the United States Olympic Committee. This is not to be confused with the American Taekwondo Association (ATA), which is based in North America, holds its own tournaments for ATA members and includes a combination of techniques and curriculum. It was founded in 1969 by Eternal Grand Master Haeung Ung Lee, a student of General Choi. From his teachings, a new "modernized" style of the sport emerged, dubbed "Songahm Taekwondo." This has become largely integrated into ATA-affiliated schools.

Lastly, taekwondo oversight broadly stems from Kukkiwon, the official World Taekwondo Headquarters and the sport's governing body. Based in Seoul, South Korea, it is responsible for ranks and black belt certifications, standardized training methods and the sport's global promotion and education.

Taekwondo is an official Olympic sport, with its demonstration debut fittingly in Korea's capital at the 1988 Seoul Games. It then became a medal sport at the 2000 Sydney Games. Olympic taekwondo, managed by World Taekwondo, is only based on full-contact sparring. The other martial arts to be included in the upcoming 2028 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles include boxing, fencing, judo, karate and wrestling.

To this note, an important distinction is the difference between taekwondo and karate. Karate has its origins in Japanese Zen philosophy. Besides differences in organizational structures, competition formats and training regimens, there is a gap in techniques and physical expression involved. Karate leans into controlled hand techniques with slow, intentionally focused movements to achieve precision, optimized power and balance. Taekwondo is conversely known for its fluidity, dynamism and agility, incorporating force through rapid actions, mainly kicks.

All in all, taekwondo emphasizes training the mind alongside the body and finding unity within the self. The high level of preparation in confidence, leadership, mental focus and clarity, in addition to the physical benefits draws individuals of all ages and from all over the world. True strength through taekwondo is not just physical. It is enduring, disciplined and purposeful. It is a way of life.