After 13 years of dying to leave Korea, I spent much of my first semester at Hopkins wanting to go back.
Dear Freshman Jessica, I have decided to take the time and effort to write you this letter because I know you need it. Really. You think you know better but you’re wrong. I can see through the smiles and the small talk and the social media posts and “everything-is-great-why-would-you-think-otherwise” facade. You’re homesick. You’re stressed. You dread large social gatherings. You sleep five hours a night (on a good night). You really hate calculus. You hate the rain and the humidity and the snow and are really starting to regret not going to sunny UCLA with the rest of Glendora High School.
The Beach Behind the Hopkins sign lies a large grassy expanse. Though nowhere near the ocean, this field is called “The Beach.” In warmer weather, students hang out and have picnics. In colder weather, students build snowmen, go sledding and have snowball fights.
I am, as my mother would say, a “sensitive person who feels things deeply.” She’s not wrong. I have atopic dermatitis — a fancy medical term for “sensitive deep-feeler.” When I’m upset, a rash breaks out on my arms; when I’m stressed, I get bacne that looks like a topographical map of a piece of pizza. Even when I try hiding my feelings, my skin betrays me.
It’s 9 a.m., and you’re trying to rush home before anyone sees you in oversized sweatpants and a T-shirt, carrying your clothes from last night. The infamous walk of shame. But why do we label it as shameful? Why do we consider sex shameful?
In seventh grade, somewhere between the classes that neither students nor teachers cared about and the hormone and Axe-filled gym period, we had one hour set aside every week to visit the library. While I’m sure I would have preferred the patented middle school time-waster coolmathgames.com, the presence of our terrifying school librarian forced me to pretend to actually read.
In a world governed by social pressure to love and be loved, knowing how to be single is key to your health and that of your relationships. Knowing how to be single can be difficult, though, when surrounded by rom-coms, love songs and Disney-happy-endings.
The act of dating is complicated, to put it lightly. To text or not to text. To Snapchat or not to Snapchat. To wait a certain amount of time before responding to the text so you seem like you’re not on your phone 24/7 and have a very cool life or to not. These decisions feel monumental in the moment, creating a pressure that other generations just don’t understand.
Each morning, a Facebook notification arrives at the same time with the same message: “On this day, you have memories with…” That’s usually accompanied by a list of seven people, five of whom I don’t talk to anymore.
I am not your Korean fetish.” That was the Tinder bio I wrote last summer, which came with some decent pictures of myself and a surprise painting of Judith slaying Holofernes. A not-so-subtle finger to the patriarchy.
Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” is a bop — it topped charts in 25 countries and became one of the best-selling singles of all time. It’s also a monumental LGBTQ anthem in which Gaga embraces her bisexuality and affirms other LGBTQ identities, singing “I’m beautiful in my way / ‘Cause God makes no mistakes / I’m on the right track, baby I was born this way.”
As social media and online dating platforms like Tinder and Hinge become more and more visible in American society, people are beginning to question whether relationships and the concept of love are evolving. Many feel as though technology has superseded human interaction and elevated the desire for quick hookups, while others contend that modern relationships remain fundamentally the same as they were in prior generations.
Based on the media’s depiction of young adults, one would think that all college and high school students are having a lot of sex all the time. There are entire TV shows that focus on the sex lives of teenagers. But recent survey data seem to suggest that people are having a lot less sex than we think they are.
People have lots of different words for it, all with slightly different implications. “Situationship,” “seeing each other” and “hanging out” are just a few. Ultimately though, they refer to the same vague thing: two people who like each other enough to act like a couple, but who, for some reason or other, won’t commit. Though there is some overlap in terminology, I’ve found these pseudo-relationships aren’t quite a part of “hookup culture,” really. Instead, they exist in a strange gray area somewhere between “friends with benefits” and an official relationship.
First Date: Happy hour at Clavel With its unmatched plants-and-fairy-lights aesthetic, you’re sure to woo your love interest on a first date at Clavel. Their happy hour special is Monday through Friday, and you can split chips and queso for $8 and sip on some margaritas for $6. Make sure you get in line right at 5 p.m. though because it fills up fast with Baltimore residents who head right to Clavel after getting off work. For those who aren’t of age, they also have tasty non-alcoholic mixed drinks. Pro-tip: If there’s a wait at Clavel, you can always pop on over for a drink at W.C. Harlan, a small speakeasy bar that’s tucked away on the same block.
Myth: People with mental illnesses tend to be violent Those being effectively treated for psychotic illnesses are no more likely to be violent. Still, a 2006 survey found that 60 percent of people thought that those with schizophrenia were likely to act violently. Emma McGinty, deputy director for the Center for Mental Health and Addiction Policy Research at the Bloomberg School of Public Health, wrote in an email to The News-Letter that this belief is not true.
The University’s undergraduate population boasts students from 62 different countries, with 11 percent of the current freshman class being international students. With this cultural diversity comes a mix of perspectives, cultures and experiences, especially in regard to mental health. In response to increased globalization over the last century, many countries have seen stigma against and support networks for the mentally ill change. Regardless, most cultures still have perspectives about mental illness that greatly reflect their regions’ traditions.
I wrote a piece. I was forced to throw it away, to delete it from my hard drive, to delete it from my mind.
For as long as I can remember, my stomach has always hurt. Sometimes, I would feel like I was being stabbed with a dull knife, over and over. Other times, my body would break out in a cold sweat from waves of nausea. Even when I wasn’t in pain, my stomach would make noises, prompting people to ask what was wrong. I usually just said that I was hungry, even if I wasn’t.
Writing about mental health is a touchy subject for me. That’s not because I am dealing with anxiety, or depression or another form of mental illness myself. I am extremely fortunate in that I don’t, to my knowledge, have a mental health issue or disability.
