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One Tuesday morning, while standing next to my club’s harm reduction card, I watched as an elderly woman in a wheelchair pushed herself forward, nearly passing me on her way to the Johns Hopkins Hospital. She looked up to greet me, then caught one glimpse of our banner which dons clip art images of a syringe, a small pipe with smoke coming out of it and Band-Aids.
Everyone who really knows me knows that I am ethically non-monogamous when it comes to careers. Even majors. At the end of all the one-night stands with strangers that I don’t have, I hear wedding bells and buy joint burial plots before the sun rises. The way that you imagine moving to a city after spending two days visiting, I flirt with the idea of dedicating my life to a career after one tenuously relevant experience. When I stitched closed the neck of a decapitated stuffed doll the other day, I imagined my name towing the credentials MD.
From Nov. 7 to Nov. 8, The News-Letter’s News & Features team provided live coverage of the fire that occurred in a commercial building in Remington, West 23rd St., North Baltimore, which continued to 2230 Hampden Ave.
When the sun has slipped beneath the skyline – circumscribed in a rectangular panel beside my peripheral vision – I am beside my desk, index finger tendon taut with tension as I tap against a mouse pad. The time is 9:19, or 21:21, displayed on my blinking digital clock that’s two minutes ahead. Its glare spreads from the glassy confines of the LED display.
It is 5:08 a.m., and I am absorbed in a Freida McFadden book, having just discovered the joy of being invested in a psychological thriller. I am surrounded by LED cherry blossom lights and fairy lights to make my tiny dorm space cozy. No, I didn’t decide to wake up at 5 a.m. to start my day with something therapeutic, I stayed up until 5 a.m. to do something therapeutic.
It is getting colder in Baltimore, and exams are still in full swing, but the city is full of ways to take a break. Warm up at the Maryland Irish Festival with traditional food and music or head to Union Craft Brewing and Patterson Park for a weekend of oysters and beer. On Sunday, explore how Hopkins researchers are tackling climate challenges at Extreme Heat or end the weekend with Puppets Fight Back, a night of drag, music and puppetry at Le Mondo.
On Nov. 4, the Student Government Association (SGA) came together for its weekly meeting to engage with Transportation Services administration and learn about committee updates.
Jo Becuti-Ortiz, a junior majoring in Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering working as the undergraduate lab manager in the Betenbaugh Lab, headed by Michael Betenbaugh, described his undergraduate research journey in an interview with The News-Letter.
Amid the usual onslaught of midterms and essays, it becomes startlingly easy to lose your grasp on time. The clock hands turn a little too fast for our liking, hours slip away to Brody study sessions and anxious Gradescope submissions, and days become measured not by sunset or sunrise but instead how many energy drinks you’ve downed.
My phone buzzed with a reminder from my mom: “Aaj Diwali hai, haath jodh lena.” I looked around my sparse dorm — the string lights I’d never hung, two Bhagwaanji in the corner — and slipped out before the silence could settle.
There’s something so deeply human about making something yourself.
The boy carries a white trash bag in his outstretched, open-palmed hand. Four distinct strands of hair stick up, like he’s been held upside down before being gently placed on the ground. He’s beaming as if he’s just heard the funniest knock-knock joke ever told; I can’t help but wonder what I’d say to him, if I had the chance. A decade-old relic, the view is asymmetrical: one of us triumphantly gazes into the camera as if to say, ‘we did that,’ while the other sits in a dorm room, the curved edges of a smile forming at the corners of his face.
On Thursday, Oct. 23, the Whiting School of Engineering’s Department of Computer Science hosted Aaron Roth, a professor of computer and cognitive science in the Department of Computer and Information Science at the University of Pennsylvania, to give a talk titled "Agreement and Alignment for Human-AI Collaboration." This talk involves the results of three papers: Tractable Agreement Protocols (2025 ACM Symposium on Theory of Computing), Collaborative Prediction: Tractable Information Aggregation via Agreement (ACM-SIAM Symposium on Discrete Algorithms) and Emergent Alignment from Competition.
A few weeks ago I found myself, all dolled up, at the grand banquet of a Jane Austen Society conference, and I think I might have peaked right then. All around the room, authentic regency dresses swished and tight little curls spilled daintily out of intricate updos. Glasses clinked and laughter rang out over a playlist that was primarily the soundtracks to various Jane Austen movies with Bridgerton, Outlander and Strauss waltzes thrown in, despite their historical inaccuracy, when they thought we wouldn’t notice. We feasted on pleasantly flavorless dishes that I’m sure would have tickled the fancy of Miss Austen herself.
For as long as I can remember, I would call my dadi twice a day.
“Austin! Marilyn! Come downstairs!”
When I signed up to write an article about what my Spotify receipt reveals about me, I didn’t really think about how embarrassing it might look. Signing into Receiptify a few weeks later, however, I can’t deny I was a little nervous: This would be published for everyone to see. And usually, when I’m listening to music, I’m not thinking much about public perception. When I saw what it looked like, though, I realized there was a lot in there: a lot about me, what I like, who I am. A lot that wasn’t actually embarrassing (with the exception of The Last of Us soundtrack, but let a girl have her TV shows).
It’s an exciting time in the world of Hopkins sports. The fall season is climbing to an exciting culmination and the winter season is slowly heating up. Now is an amazing time for everyone to go and catch a game, either outside if you can brave the chill or inside at the gym or pool. As the winter athletes show off how hard they have been training for the season and the fall athletes demonstrate the elevated levels of play they developed over the past few months, go support and cheer on the Jays.
Most days, you can find me in a child’s pose on a yoga mat either at the studio, next to my bed at home or on the hardwood stretching before my ballet class. It’s nothing extravagant, and often my stretching varies from a few quick minutes before class to an hour and half before bed. No matter what time of day or where I’m at, yoga and my stretching routine have given me stability and structure during times of tumultuous change.
What feels like just a few days ago, my biggest frustration was Grey’s Anatomy characters ragebaiting me: it was the COVID-19 lockdown; my last year of middle school had come to an abrupt halt. Another day later, I was speed-walking from debate practice and frantically trying to grasp basic thermodynamics concepts in AP Chemistry, which seems so trivial today. Yesterday, I was frantically journaling every minuscule event in hopes of a killer Common App essay topic, binge-reading college application guides at 2 a.m., convinced that one obscure extracurricular would determine the course of my life. Today, I am 20 years old. Blink, and somehow those “days” stack into an entire span of five years. Just like that, being a teenager – and more importantly, the vast majority of my youth – is already behind me.