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It’s not often that you get to lead with your best friend. The summer before this year — our senior year — we road-tripped up to the Jersey shore and stood on the beach with no idea of the year that was ahead of us as Editors-in-Chief. We had been close for a long time, but this was the year that we became inseparable. Twenty-plus-hour News-Letter work weeks, bookended by weekends full of laughter, reflection and nights in Baltimore and Brody. And now, with only a few weeks until graduation, we can’t help but look back on this whirlwind year and marvel at how it’s all coming to a close so soon.
My grandmother grew up in an orphanage — not because she didn’t have a family but because she couldn’t find them. She was six-years-old, maybe seven, when she was separated from them during the Korean War. Raised by the Anglican nuns at the orphanage, she graduated first in her class and left at 18-years-old to pursue a college education during a time when few people, let alone women, had college degrees.
First Date: Happy hour at Clavel
As summer came to a close, film critics and moviegoers alike were proudly dubbing the month of August #AsianAugust. The wildly popular Crazy Rich Asians, starring an all-Asian cast, became the most successful studio rom-com in nine years. Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before with its lovable Korean-American heroine Lara Jean became a raved-about sensation among teens and college students alike. So when I heard that the thriller film Searching starring John Cho was playing at the Towson Cinemark this September, I knew I had to get tickets.
In high school, I was an arts kid. Theater, orchestra, choir — you name it, I did it. I also took classes in poetry and did a lot of that. To me, journalism seemed like another creative outlet that I hadn’t explored yet, and like any eager college freshman, I was itching to join new clubs the second I stepped foot on campus.
I’m not quite sure what burnout is, but what happened two weeks ago felt something quite like it. After weeks of what had felt like going through life on auto-pilot — running in and out of back-to-back meetings, slogging through a cappella practices, rubbing my bleary eyes in the morning and rushing to class — a bad grade on a midterm tipped the scale.
If you know anything about me, it’s that I love eating out. I’ll make money primarily to fund my reckless dining habits because the Baltimore food scene is both my greatest joy when it comes to my stomach and greatest downfall when it comes to my wallet.
Every year, one billion toothbrushes (roughly 50 million pounds) are thrown out and added to landfills every year. That’s enough plastic to stretch around the world four times. The average American woman menstruates for 38 years and uses disposable feminine hygiene products. That’s roughly 250-300 pounds of garbage during your lifetime, just from your period.
It was a particularly brisk day — the kind of fall day that teeters right at the edge of winter — when I crossed 31st Street last semester and made my way to the Counseling Center for my very first appointment. I wasn’t necessarily going to counseling for mental health issues, I was going to confront a fear that I’ve always had: therapy.
You never expect you’ll be in a long-distance relationship until you’re in one. And then there you are, with all that it entails: laying in the dark with your face warmed by the light of a pixelated screen; or holding your phone up to the sky because a strong signal is your lifeline to that person halfway across the world.
Everyone has a guilty pleasure artist, and, for me, it has always been Taylor Swift. There’s a certain shame that comes with knowing that she doesn’t make what people would call “good” music, whatever that even means.
I have pretty terrible luck. So when I was informed by the Office of Multicultural Affairs that I had won $15 tickets to see The Color Purple at the Hippodrome Theater — with a Q&A session with the cast afterwards — needless to say, I was pretty stoked at my good fortune.
I think it was in fourth grade when I truly came to grasp a sense of my “otherness.” It was a hot August day, and I was playing on the swings at my local community center. A girl with mousy brown hair and glasses came up to me and asked, “Why is your face so flat?”
Students celebrated Holi, the Hindu festival of colors that marks the arrival of spring, by throwing colored powder on the Beach on Sunday, April 2.
Hopkins graduates Mario Jovan Shaw and Jason Terrell were roommates at Teach for America and then entered the master’s program the Johns Hopkins School of Education when they realized a fundamental problem: How could they encourage young black boys to continue their education or go into education, as they did? Shaw and Terrell discovered that young black boys needed to see role models like themselves in the classroom.
For the 37th straight year, the University has been named the leader in research and development (R&D) spending among American colleges in fiscal year 2015.
The Hopkins chapter of J Street U, a nationwide college campus movement advocating a two-state solution for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, gathered in front of Gilman Hall on Monday in solidarity with the Palestinian village of Susya. The village faces potential demolition from the Israeli government since it was built without building permits.
In an interview with The News-Letter on Friday, University President Ronald J. Daniels addressed student concerns surrounding mental health, diversity and race, the University’s role in Baltimore and the ongoing Humanities Center conflict.
Election day is right around the corner, and this year it falls exactly 11 days before my one-year anniversary of becoming an American citizen. No, I was not born in America — and this election, I can vote while my immigrant parents cannot.