Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
May 14, 2025 May 14, 2025 | Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
May 14, 2025 May 14, 2025 | Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
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.
Last week, we sent The News-Letter off to the printer at 7 a.m. and finished the most rewarding and stressful year of our lives. Since our first week as Editors-in-Chief, we have tried our hardest to put out the best possible product, but the success of this paper never rested on us alone.
As a follow-up to my last column about why Supergirlhas relationship trouble, this week I’m taking on the other issue that’s been dragging the show down this season: Kara’s career. In season one, Kara (Melissa Benoist) started as an assistant to the high-strung, demanding, witty and wonderfully saucy Cat Grant (Calista Flockhart), CEO of CatCo Worldwide Media.
Welcome back to the couch; Sorry there’s so little space.
Have you heard of Albin Lee Meldau yet? Well, if you haven’t, then you are about to be blown away. With his perfectly graveled voice, which reminds me of James Arthur or Ed Sheeran, Meldau is sure to impress. But it’s not just his vocals, Meldau’s rhythms and brand new music video are also top notch and guaranteed to keep your attention.
I wasn’t all that rebellious of a kid back in elementary school. There were a few days where I brought my Game Boy to school. Occasionally, I put more duck sauce on my chicken fingers than I was supposed to. I’ll admit I did cheat on an exam on U.S. trivia once in fifth grade because I hadn’t been paying attention to the last week’s worth of classes. (Nowadays, I just accept my impending failures.) But these were all one-off or otherwise infrequent incidents.
Do you ever look at a worm and wonder what it was doing all winter? While the rest of us were suffering through exams and flu season, what were the things that wriggle and crawl doing? Well, wonder no more, for I am about to tell you.
“I mean, I did pretty well in high school, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
When I was 11 I met my grandparents for only the third time. I had vague memories of them from my toddlerhood. Here was a grandfather with a crooked smile, a grandmother who really liked floral print, but I was keenly aware, even back then, that I didn’t actually know anything about either of them. But now was my chance. I could finally know them as more than photographs and the occasional anecdote from my mother’s childhood.
I sat on my mom’s bed in my sleep-shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. She asked me again and again what was wrong. I had only been home from school for two days, surely nothing could have happened in those two days to upset me so much.
If you’re reading this, know before you even start, that you are about to learn one of my best-kept secrets. If you already knew this, know that this means I trust you beyond belief. If I already told you this, know that you mean the world to me. You listened, and you didn’t treat me any differently because of this. If you didn’t know, all I can hope for is that this doesn’t change the way you see me. I’m throwing it out in the open.
My family is deeply religious. My father’s side is wholly Irish Catholic. My mother’s side is not Irish, but my grandparents on her side were sure as hell Catholic, and, of course, so is she. I believe we may have some Baptists in the family somewhere but I have not heard much about that.
