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The person I am today was beautifully woven and built piece by piece by my mother; she built my wings to fly. The transition from having my mom right beside me to being 8,000 miles away from her is tough.
There’s a poem I keep thinking about: “Replica of the Thinker.” In it, a copy of Rodin’s famous statue sits at a museum, hunched over that familiar pose of “deep thought.” But he isn’t thinking. “His head is filled with iron and bronze,” the poet writes, “not neurons and God.” He looks like a thinker, but is he actually thinking?
“What’s going on here?”
Yesterday I took the MBTI test again for the first time in eight months: ISTJ-T. I didn’t think much of the four letters themselves — I’ve seen them enough times by now. What caught my attention was the last letter, a subtle change from A (assertive) to T (turbulent). It made me stop and think about when I became more worried and prone to overthinking, not because I believe in a personality test like it’s my Roman Empire, but because some of the prompts in the test do reflect my current feelings toward my own stage of growth. For context, assertive people are usually calm and self-assured, while turbulent people tend to be more anxious and self-critical.
I recently finished the latest season of Dancing With the Stars. For those who weren’t keeping up, Robert Irwin and his professional ballroom partner, Witney Carson, brought home the highly coveted Mirrorball trophy.
We’re getting to the time of year when it's easy to be lost in the past. The same red bows are tied on lampposts in parks and outside dingy shopping centers. The same massive wreaths decorate even more massive malls. But with every passing year, the bows seem a little more at eye level and the wreaths are a little smaller. You bake the same cookies, and then suddenly a research project on salmonella makes you no longer want to lick the batter out of the bowl. While wading through homework, I’ve been reflecting on the holidays, which used to be documented by where I performed and when, but can now be tallied by which Christmas movies I watch, which treats I decide to enjoy and which cities I want to visit.
On the first day of fall break, I flew from Baltimore to Toronto to visit my best friend, who is studying engineering at the University of Toronto (popularly abbreviated as U of T). The last time we saw each other was in July, during the final leg of our grad trip in Seoul. It had been about two months since then, which I realized was the longest we’ve been apart — that’s the thing about high school, you’re never really separated from your best friends for more than the two months of summer break — so, after many tearful phone calls, she finally convinced me to visit her.
1-Across: Number on a birthday cake
1-Across: Relax
1-Down: Short for suggestion
Tangshan was ravaged by a 7.6 magnitude earthquake on July 28, 1976. An earthquake report written years later said that within minutes, “85% of the buildings collapsed or were rendered unusable, all services failed, and most highway and railway bridges collapsed or were seriously damaged.” An article in the Building Safety Journal described how, because the earthquake struck during the humid midsummer season, “survivors scrambled out into the open naked, covered only in dust and blood, to see the entire city levelled.”
Hey Alan,
Campus may be quiet for Thanksgiving break, but Baltimore is already in full holiday mode. Saturday is packed with choices from shopping local at Bazaart to exploring Festival of Trees before ending the night with improv mayhem at Bah Humbug. On Sunday, Hampden turns on the lights for Miracle on 34th Street, and the Grinch takes over the Hippodrome for one last burst of cheer.
Yes, I know it’s almost Thanksgiving and the main thing on your mind is when can you go home. When are you able to sit on the couch all day, maybe catch some NFL or NBA games, and drift into daydreams about never going back to school. As tempting as this sounds, you’ll be more thrilled to know about the success of our Hopkins sports team. Embrace your team spirit and combine it with your love for the school and you will realize that these Hopkins Sports games are can’t miss thrillers.
Letters Without Limits, founded by students at Johns Hopkins and Brown University, connects volunteers with palliative care and hospice patients to co-create “Legacy Letters.” These letters capture memories, values and lessons that patients wish to share, preserving stories that might otherwise be lost. By honoring these voices and preserving legacies, Letters Without Limits hopes to affirm the central role of humanism in medicine, reminding us that every patient is more than their illness and that their voices deserve to be heard. As you read these powerful Legacy Letters, we invite you to pause, reflect and recognize the beauty in every life.
In high school, they put you through every career exploration website in the book with endless surveys to fill the time. What are your hobbies? Are you a social person? A visual learner or auditory? After these life-changing questions, small colorful blurbs would appear, possible careers ranging from travel agent to journalist, salesman to entertainer. Over and over, you complete these surveys, for four years. But at the end of the day, the core question is the same one we were given as children for icebreaker worksheets. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My question in return, stated or not, was often “Can I pick more than one?”
“Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other,” Danusha Laméris avows in her short poem “Small Kindnesses.”
For as long as I can remember, I’ve worn my heart on my face. Joy, love and contentment glimmer in my eyes even when I attempt to hide my smile. The lump in my throat when I’m hurt shows up in the set of my lips and the hoarseness of my voice. My hands move more when I’m excited and shake into fists in anger.
There are few things so contagious as Christmas in Manila. The streets come alive with spiraling lights and glowing parols. Mariah Carey reigns in every mall and, out from each corner of every barangay spills the sound of belting karaoke and sappy ballads. With everyone home for the holidays, the usual city crowds multiply. People pour out onto the church steps at mass, some so far away as to only hear the sound of the sermon from outdoor speakers, keeping the heat at bay with abaniko and pamaypay fans. The city stays awake for Noche Buena, with whole pigs skewered on the table for lechon, pancit and lengua and platters of baked kakanin ready for grazing throughout the night. Temperature aside, the Philippines warms even more at Christmastime.
It is 6 a.m. and my roommates and I have had a total of eight alarms go off from 6:00 to 6:40 a.m. for the Freshman Cohort’s Spring Semester Registration. (Can be read as: none of the alarms actually got anyone out of bed, but all of them successfully jump-started the kind of frenzy that feels like work even though it accomplishes absolutely nothing).