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 both love and hate the idea of coping with mental illness through artistic expression. On the one hand, it’s a great way to “pass” an emotional imprint of something negative out of you and turn it into something you’re proud of. A sort of metaphysical turd, if you will.
It’s been a little over two months since I left my home in New Jersey. This period of time has been filled with long nights of studying; meals at the FFC (Fresh Food Cafe); a fear of getting hand, foot and mouth disease; and so much more. But, having been so caught up in my daily tasks, I haven’t had the time to reflect. So that’s what I’m taking a moment to do now.
Growing up, my family visited China twice a year. If you have ever turned on a television in China, then you’re most likely familiar with the skin care commercials: Glowing women with pearl-like complexions, basking in the whitening magic of Olay.
It’s strange to date seriously in college. To emotionally commit yourself to another person — or just to spend so much of your time with them — seems risky, almost inadvisable in such a formative moment in your life. It follows, then, that it’s even stranger to break up.
It is said that familiarity breeds contempt. Eating, studying, hanging out and maybe even sleeping with the same people makes you pretty familiar, I would say. And regardless of the fact that you may only have known them for a couple of months, constant close quarters may mean that they have granted themselves explicit permission to comment and advise you — without being prompted — on matters ranging from the trivial to the all-too personal.
In the weeks leading up to the 2018 midterm elections, Hopkins has been surprisingly full of “get out the vote” energy. But do the courts and legislatures care as much about our vote as we do? In the midst of the midterms, I look at how America’s voter policies support — or suppress — the youngest voters.
When I was young, I wanted to be a “dump truck man.” Maybe my five-year-old brain wasn’t taking the negatives of the job into account, but the appeals are obvious. First, I wouldn’t have to go to school anymore, that would be pretty sick. Adults always say they want to travel more, and on the truck I’d be traveling all day long! And do you realize how fun it would be to ride on the back of the truck? It’s like you’re getting paid to ride a roller coaster; a very stinky roller coaster. I went to the dump with my dad sometimes, so I had all the qualifications. I was ready to start immediately.
Wake up, workout. Take your weight and a photo for your app, Diet Diary, everyday. To make sure you’re losing weight. Workout as much as you can. Start with P90X, not enough. Get into POP Pilates. Everyday, do at least a two-hour workout.
I went home to visit my family this past weekend. We went out to dinner Saturday night, and I ordered a chicken enchilada and a chocolate milk. Before ordering, I debated in my head whether or not to get my favorite drink. I’m 19. I’m an adult. Adults don’t typically order sweetened dairy products in restaurants, but I figured that, since I was with my family, I might as well be a kid.
I am now writing to you all from Geneva, Switzerland (not Amsterdam) as I enjoy a few days at home. It is the end of the first half of my semester abroad and this has made me want to reflect a little on the time I have spent away from Hopkins so far.
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll forget?” I asked. “You can’t really forget how to drive. It’s like riding a bike. You can’t forget how to ride a bike. You do need to get readjusted to the car, so start driving slow.”
As Halloween season comes to a close and people begin to swap out their spooky decorations for more gluttonous ones, I’ve been thinking a lot about horror movies. I spent a good chunk of the last month and a half dedicated to watching scary movies, a couple of which I was able to see as revival screenings at local theaters.
1. Try not to sound too Southern. You don’t want your peers making assumptions on the first day of classes in Baltimore.
With yesterday marking the four year anniversary of my paternal grandfather’s death and the coming of All Soul’s Day this Friday, I’ve been in the midst of a bit of an existential crisis.
The last few years have been a time of admirable improvement in the world of cultural awareness around food. More writers of repute, as well as chefs, diners and others, are thinking about how the words they choose can evoke certain sentiments that degrade the foods they’re discussing. However, there’s still plenty of room for growth.
Hopkins is stressful. This is a cliché: something we all know and are somewhat tired of hearing, but hear me out.
The latest publication from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), the world’s leading body on climate science, made an urgent point: Climate change is rapidly occurring, and its consequences are dire. As a coastal, flood-prone city, Baltimore will most definitely feel the ramifications of rising sea levels and more intense weather events. Has City policy prepared us for the impacts of climate change?
Okay. Just breathe, San. These are your people. You’re all in the same boat. Just hide your manicure in your jacket pocket so they don’t think you care too much about superficial crap.
Earlier this month, the United Nations (UN) released a report that claimed we could be facing a major, climatic crisis in fewer than 25 years. It paints a dire picture, stating that in order to avoid catastrophe, a complete transformation of the world economy is required — at a speed and scale unlike any other in recorded history. Without change, hundreds of millions of people will be put directly in harm’s way.
