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(05/01/26 5:03am)
A few friends and I have been carrying on the same open conversation for a few months now about what makes art. It is a very important question for a bunch of students at Peabody, where I am studying vocal performance. To be frank, the thing we’re discussing at this point isn’t simply “What makes art?” We dance around that question as we talk about the things that are happening in our lives, like lessons, concerts, competitions, rehearsals and even practice sessions, but our conversation always comes back to art, its purpose and our place as artists.
(05/01/26 4:00pm)
Note: The name of the security guard I met has been anonymized to Ms. T for this article.
(04/24/26 7:00pm)
1. 家 (jiā) / home
(04/17/26 9:00am)
I despise small talk. And it’s all over social media, too. When did it become necessary for “friends” I haven’t spoken to in years to flood my comments section with “gorgggg,” or “you’re so adorable” or “marry me pls.” I don’t really want to marry you, random stranger whose Instagram handle I barely recognize.
(04/23/26 11:29pm)
I’ve never had a reason for wanting to be a writer. My relationship with writing has always been that of a high-school love your parents don’t approve of, in part because it reminds them of all their old mistakes — that is to say, fueled by contradiction and inexplicability. Every time someone assumes I want to be a writer, I don’t, and when they think I must want to become something else, then I’ve only ever wanted to be a writer. I’m not saying this is a good way of life, but I am claiming it as mine. At least I’m honest — until you call me honest, and then I’m a liar.
(04/13/26 8:00am)
After a very busy half-semester of rewatching all of Bridgerton and Emily in Paris while studying for my organic chemistry midterms (I am only half-kidding), I got to spend a glorious nine-and-a-half days frolicking around London and Paris with two of my best friends and my mom. I know, I am the luckiest girl in the world.
(04/23/26 4:41pm)
Two weeks ago, I decided to go to Hong Kong over spring break. It was impulsive. I had been there before — once as a child, and again in 2019. But somehow, I barely remembered any of it. This is the second time in a relatively short span that I have found myself writing about Asia, which probably says something about the kind of year this has been. More than ever before, I have been thinking more seriously about identity, what feels like home and how much of it is something I only recognize once I’ve been away from it.
(04/18/26 7:00pm)
When the summer heat has subsided, and the sun casts a liquid saffron in the rippling bank waters of the Loch Raven Reservoir, my father and I gather up hooks, lure and rods to set out fishing. After the back trunk of the car pops open with a metallic creak, we load up the equipment and begin a leisurely 9-minute drive from our house. My father is steering our beige 2008 Toyota Camry, proudly bearing a sunburnt bumper sticker of the Beijing Olympics, where our seatbelt buckles still radiate the heat of noon, and the entire interior smells of melting velour. He cranks on the radio to WEAA 89.9, my least favorite station, due to being young and not understanding the “allure of jazz,” but my father insists it reminds him of the gate lounges of the Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans, waiting for flights home. We mainly drive along one monotonous, lazily winding road that escapes to the outskirts of Timonium, brushing past the whipping scenery of foliage in the reflection of the approaching basin.
(04/23/26 11:34pm)
I was relatively late in getting a driver’s license. I realized this when I met up with some old friends in my senior year of high school, and I was the only one who still had a permit.
(04/15/26 12:00pm)
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?
(04/18/26 4:00pm)
Founded in 2009 by Brandon Doman, The Strangers Project began as a simple yet powerful idea: to collect anonymous, handwritten stories from people around the world and share them in a space where anyone could read them. What started as a small project has grown into a global collection of human experiences stories filled with honesty, vulnerability and emotion. It creates a space where people can express themselves freely, without judgment, and where others are invited to simply listen.
(04/18/26 3:34am)
Two weeks ago, I had an incredible stroke of bad luck. Nothing was ever that serious, but minor inconveniences and unfortunate happenings followed me around like a fever I couldn’t shake. The list of these inconveniences goes as follows:
(04/21/26 4:00am)
A subtle bass line pulsates from inside my headphones, most likely loud enough to be heard by any passerby as I lace up my green and beige New Balances before heading to the Rec for an hour of pickup basketball. Despite my limited previous experience, which came from a brief tenure on the first-year high school basketball team, I have come to find ‘hoops’ as my go-to weeknight ritual over the last few months. Standing in stark contrast to the pastel Kobes, Kyries and KDs that are typically on display, my ‘old-reliables’ have sustained continually middling performances in five-on-five play.
(04/22/26 4:00am)
Recently, I acquired Joan Didion’s posthumously published work, Notes to John, from the library. The book was subject to much controversy, raising questions about the ethicality of publishing letters or notes that may not have been intended for the public eye. I began reading with a sense of apprehension, guilt even. Discussing everything from her daughter’s struggles with alcoholism to Didion’s own struggles with mental health, the work consists of Didion’s meticulously written notes to John detailing the sessions she had with a psychiatrist she saw in 1999.
(04/18/26 3:27am)
The Tuesday before the Neuroscience: Cellular and Systems I (Cells) exam, war officially begins. My body is constantly in fight or flight mode, running on too much caffeine. In every interaction with my friends, I love to complain about how cooked I am. My whiteboard is filled with scribbles of every molecular and signaling pathway and half-erased reminders that somehow make perfect sense only to me. My days blur into a loop of studying, contemplating my overall intelligence to be a neuroscience major. It might seem dramatic and a little exhausting, but by this point, I’m completely on autopilot. My phone is on grayscale. I’m hopping from the Annex to Gilman on my study crawls, barely noticing the world around me, consumed entirely by memorizing every single detail I’ve been taught. The days feel faster, the stakes feel much higher and every second is dedicated to active recall.
(04/20/26 4:00am)
I’ve been listening to kids more lately. Maybe it’s because I’ve been teaching, but I don’t mean just listening to them literally — their higher-pitched voices and inflections of pop culture, which sound like a dead language to me. The content of their speech is what I’m hearing, perhaps for the first time. Have you ever met one of those not-so-rare elementary-aged philosophers? One of my students wrote, “happy is where the sun likes my future.” I do not think I could write a line so poignant if you asked me to. In dark clouds of jealousy, I feel relieved that my extra years have at least gifted me the executive function to weld together a greater number of mediocre sentences, and then I feel embarrassed for competing with an elementary schooler.
(04/16/26 6:00am)
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.”
(04/17/26 3:00am)
I’ve been thinking about my arrival at Hopkins a lot, especially because my amazing academic advisor Christine sent me an email talking about the big decision I will have to make soon: declaring my major.
(04/03/26 5:00am)
This is how to make the best matcha latte. Swipe. Come study with me for four hours straight. Swipe. Follow along for a day in the life of a… Swipe.
(04/16/26 2:00am)
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.
