Halloween and hipsters at Hopkins
The stuff at the bottom of the cup tasted like vinegar; I had to choke it down. Day two of Halloweekend, 11:30 p.m., I’m close to done. While my eyes were closed, another ping pong ball bounced past
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The stuff at the bottom of the cup tasted like vinegar; I had to choke it down. Day two of Halloweekend, 11:30 p.m., I’m close to done. While my eyes were closed, another ping pong ball bounced past
In the middle of the afternoon on a Monday, the library, as always, is jam-packed. Students chug paper cups of coffee. A girl fails to pull her nose from the binding of a paperback book. Some students slump over in their rolling armchairs, having abandoned for a moment the conscious will to sit up straight. Several boys basking in the glow of a Chemistry slideshow forget how to blink, breathe.
The issues discussed in the Disorientation Guide are real and require our attention. Reading the work of the anonymous authors, I was proud for the first time to be a part of the Hopkins community. It has never been a secret that “many students... actively volunteer... without critical reflection on the motivation behind their involvement, or the relationship between the organization and the community with which it is involved.”