Hopkins is a diverse university where an incredible mix of cultures, academic interests and personalities coexist and thrive. Here is the section where you can publish your unique thoughts, ideas and perspectives on life at Hopkins and beyond.
I have, like the rest of us, been feeling a mushy amalgamation of lethargy and unease. Each endless Sunday I wake up anytime between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m., eat whatever meal feels the most appropriate, and weave in and out of Zoom meetings, naps, Netflix binge sessions and schoolwork.
My French has faltered many times, especially in rather unforgiving environments like Paris. Yet I have always felt more confident speaking it than Hindi, the language I grew up hearing. My parents, who are Indian immigrants, have always spoken it at home, but never pushed me to when I was growing up.
It can be difficult to practice self-love while in quarantine. Despite what Instagram and TikTok will have you believe, most of us are not doing daily high intensity interval training, baking bread or cleaning our rooms. Many of us are actually just sitting at home losing academic motivation, panicking about summer internships and contemplating whether or not to go outside that day.
Senior set. Many dance groups do it — Eclectics, Korean Pop Motion, SLAM — as one of those college traditions filled with pride and mystery. At each annual dance showcase, the seniors of the club perform a special set of their own, the result of months of practicing in secret and a capstone to our four years at Hopkins.
In this tumultuous yet simultaneously tedious time at home, I have to keep reminding myself that there is a light at the end of tunnel. Though we sadly do not know when we will see the light, how bright it will be, if it is actually there or not, whether or not it will reschedule graduation, if our government is really doing all they can, whether we will even get to vote this year or...
Gaslighting, coined from the 1938 play Gas Light, is defined as the psychological manipulation of someone such that they begin to doubt their own sanity and beliefs. In doing so, the “gaslighter” can more easily control and influence their victim. ] This isn’t a story about how I was gaslighted. This is a story of what happens after.
On my 20th birthday, at the end of March, I had been planning to dress up real cute, round up my closest friends, buy dinner, and then go out and party. It probably goes without saying, but that of course was not what ended up happening. And honestly, I’m fairly sad about it.
Have you ever felt like you are faking it? More often than not, I find myself deeply concerned that someone will find out who I am really am. Not that I am bad, but rather, not as intelligent or as talented as someone would initially believe.
The past few weeks have been a whirlwind rollercoaster of emotions. I’ve felt everything from ecstatic to guilty to so upset that I found myself sobbing uncontrollably on the floor.
March 11 (the day before) 1 p.m.: I struggled through Mythos, a mystery board game based on H.P. Lovecraft’s writings, with my Storytelling Workshop: How a Narrative Works classmates. It was pretty scary; or maybe I’m just easily scared by horror stories.
I sleep funny. While it has varied in severity over the course of the past eight or so years, I can’t ever remember a time where I had a normal sleep schedule.
This is a question we are all facing today: How do we maintain the close friendships we’ve made during our time in college? It’s tough to stay in touch when you can’t see your friends face to face and are unsure of when you’ll be back together in person.
The other day, I entered my room and heard the faint sounds of birds chirping. I, of course, immediately assumed that I had forgotten to turn off a Spotify playlist, “Nature Sounds,” which I often listen to as I do work.
Two weeks and two days after making it official, my boyfriend (my first ever!) and I moved in together. Needless to say, our relationship is moving rather quickly. Our very first date was on Feb. 14; I suppose I sort of lied in my last column when I wrote that I was destined to be single on Valentine’s Day — “barring any unlikely developments.”
On March 18, 2020, exactly four years after most seniors received their acceptance letters to Hopkins, we received an email detailing the University’s tough decision to suspend all in-person classes for the rest of the semester.
I keep asking myself this question as I begin to lose track of what day it is, begin to forget the feeling of stress and begin to plan my days around taking walks. Recently, I went grocery shopping. The experience of doing something productive outside was exhilarating.
We’re catchin’ gators, whatcha y’all doin? Perched on a red Kawasaki, my mom and I watched as two young guys baited their lines to catch more gators. They were making gator tail to freeze in order to keep them from leaving the house for food. Staying a safe distance, we saw worm after worm hit the water, but they couldn’t get the gator. One guy tried to tell the other that his casting form was off, and he smirked and said, “it’s not like you’re catchin’ anything.”
Eclectics showcase 2020 was going to be lit. Twenty pieces that my peers choreographed, to be performed on the first Saturday of May. From gravity-defying rolls to six-steps and top rocking and epic shuffle choreography, this year was gonna have it all.
Like most people, I have had a lot of time to think and reflect lately. One theme keeps coming back to me. What will the world be like after the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic is over? Tragedies and national emergencies do change the nation, the world and the way we live.
For those who don’t know me, I am well versed in divination, especially tarot cards. While I do use them to predict the future, they also allow me to reflect on the universal themes each card speaks to.
