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An Anthropologie candle burned, its delicious scent filling my room as I put the finishing touches on my vision board for the rest of the spring. My room back home was and still remains my sanctuary, despite the time that has passed. Each time I return to it, a unique sense of calm fills my bones, one that I still haven’t quite managed to create for myself here at Hopkins.
One defining feature of the modern gay experience is using dating apps. While there are some explicitly gay dating apps (although Grindr can only loosely be called a “dating” app), we also use Tinder and other Straight™ things.
There are three things that I want to get out of the way before I actually get into this article. Firstly, this piece was inspired by the lovely Lily Kairis’ column last week titled “The pain of growing apart from an old friend.” If you haven’t read it, I would highly recommend that you go online and have a read of it — as soon as you’ve finished reading this one, of course.
I carry my planner with me at all times. It’s like my blankie. You might ask, “What’s so special about 50 spiral bound pages?” To be honest, I’m not so attached to the physical planner itself as much as I am to the planning. Planning, organizing and sticking to a routine helps me navigate my everyday life with generalized anxiety disorder.
Wrapping up my Gotham arc, I will now delve into the relationship between Selina Kyle (Camren Bicondova) and Bruce Wayne (David Mazouz) in season four. The teens have individually been making significant strides toward transforming into their iconic alter egos Catwoman and Batman, but they have also drifted apart. As the season nears its end, though, they’ve finally started finding their way back to one another. (WARNING: Spoilers)
Now in their mid-teenage years, the future Batman and Catwoman start to act on their feelings for one another. However, as their communication skills continue to lag, underlying issues threaten to tear the duo apart.
I’m trying to find the beauty in small things. And there is so much, there is so much that is beautiful. Look around, even as I sit in the fluorescently lit B-level, I see the wood and the tiny dark grains of brown forming curves (perfect hyperbolas!!) in the mustard yellow of the table, and I find that beautiful.
That night, that officer didn’t see two students but rather saw two suspects. His reason for stopping us related strongly to profiling. Considering that he didn’t even ask my friend for ID or proof of age, it was clear that even he knew his reason for stopping us had little to do with any curfew.
But like anything in this world, friendships cannot last forever. Whether through geographic distance or simply growing apart, I (like everyone) have lost so many friends through the years. It is a bittersweet reality I often ignore. But with the ever-thrumming churn of my brain, occasionally nostalgia pulls me back.
I’m tired of waiting for people to explain things that I already know. I’m tired of making sure that the ideas I raise and take ownership of don’t sound arrogant. I’m tired of caring about group dynamics and making sure I have all the right “soft skills.”
White feminism doesn’t account for the nuances in identity, particularly in race, but also in disability or sexuality. As one of my Muslim friends pointed out, white feminism was the feminist telling Muslim women to stop wearing a hijab because, “Don’t you want to be free?”
My feelings toward classic works of literature, or more specifically, toward British literature, have never been outstandingly positive. I never really enjoyed reading Pride and Prejudice or Wuthering Heights in high school, which wasn’t great because we had at least an entire year’s worth of English dedicated to British literature.
“What are you looking forward to most in college?” For any of who expected to party a lot, find your soul mate, achieve academic success or join a fraternity in good standing with the University: I’m sorry for the loss of your high school hopes and dreams.
As I sit on the floor of my room looking around for some inspiration about what to write about this week, I’m realizing that I’ve somehow managed to miss what is literally right in front of me, all around me and on me — not seeing the woods for the trees and all that, I guess.
Growing up, we face a lot of social pressure about the way we look. Spending hours staring in the mirror, agonizing over every little detail of our appearances is a trope of the modern middle schooler, but in reality that struggle continues far into adulthood.
This Thursday, I’m sure that many of you will be getting ready for the weekend as usual. But many of you will also likely be getting ready for a different type of day — International Women’s Day. Several groups across campus and Baltimore have been preparing to commemorate the event. But I’ll be honest, I’ve never heard of International Women’s Day before.
I was the one who actually made the poison order. I went online, researched my options, was disgusted by the cost and then promptly mentioned my little problem to my aunt who then graciously offered to buy it for me.
It’s time for engineers to stop researching weapons development. When I say engineers, I don’t only mean large organizations. I’m also talking about us — Hopkins students.
One of my favorite things to do in life is to eat, and another is to stay in bed. It is therefore inevitable that I would like eating in bed.
