Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
July 27, 2024
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 got not just one, but two days off from classes, and so what did we do with our last-minute four-day weekend? If you’re like most Hopkids (Hopkins + kids = Hopkids), you spent your class-free day studying for the classes you didn’t go to.
Netflix is everybody’s favorite recent pastime. It’s the easiest thing to do, requiring little-to-no effort and boasts a variety of high-quality programs that can entertain for hours. It’s incredibly easy to become addicted — it’s an insidious process really. You set out trying to procrastinate for half an hour, and four hours later you wind up in a bevy of confusion wondering what happened to your Monday night and, more broadly, what you are doing with your life.
This past Intersession, I went to Cuba. The trip meant so much to me and it has taken me a while to write about it. I went with eleven other Hopkins students for the Intersession study abroad class. The fact that Hopkins even had the trip was one of the reasons why I chose to come here. I had been itching to go to Cuba since I was a freshman (and maybe even before then) when it was a class on Hemingway. I am glad that I took this class instead, which had a much broader artistic focus. After spending a semester in Rome, a place that I have studied since I was in the sixth grade, I was ready to go somewhere that I knew very little about but that had some sort of hold on me.
We’ll just put it right out there: Dooby’s is worth the trip. While our lunchtime noms could not surpass the dinner meal that simply ROCKED, we enjoyed the space for its laid-back vibe and convenient Charles Street people-watching. (This, by the way, is the perfect homework distraction.) Dooby’s turns off its Internet from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. to accommodate the lunch crowd, so we worked in the beautiful and awe-inspiring Peabody Library (we’re sure studying in there actually makes you smarter) and then headed to Dooby’s for a late laptop lunch around two.
Hear your voice on tape, or watch your face on screen, and it’s alien. Unnerving. Disturbing.
I don’t remember the first time I was catcalled, the first time I felt uncomfortable because of the way a man looked at me on the street or even the first time I was groped, but I remember the first time it had to do with my race.
As a double major in political science and archaeology who is also studying Arabic, studying abroad in Amman, Jordan was an obvious choice for me. It wasn’t as obvious to my family and many of my friends, who asked things like, ”Is it a safe?” or “Will you have to wear a burka?”
There are few things I love more than awards show fashion. The second the new year rolls around, I am filled with anticipation for the jaw dropping looks, the horribly placed layers and the inevitably unflattering gowns. To be fair, bad dresses happen to everyone. I, myself, thought my white fairy dress for junior prom was fashion. However, in my opinion, this year’s Oscars were less than underwhelming.
It’s that time of year. The Facebook cover photos have changed. The Greek keyboards have been downloaded. The date parties have started. Our five sororities have recruited their new members, and all these girls couldn’t be happier. But with so many of them having rushed and a few sororities hosting continual bidding, sometimes for the rest of us, it feels like everyone else went Greek.
It’s an ancient story of opposites: yin and yang, light and darkness, cheap and chic, communism and capitalism. Though seemingly direct opposites, they contain traces of each other and, if taken to the extreme, provoke the same reactions. Or do they?
I’ve realized recently that self-evaluation is a really interesting thing.
We know, we know, everyone has already been to Brewer’s Art. And everyone who has been to Brewer’s loves it and tells their friends that when they go, they have to get the beer and steak frites. It’s the best in Baltimore. As foodies with fairly similar tastes, we find that when we disagree on a dish (in this case the steak frites), someone must be right and someone must be wrong. So, we figured on this cold, winter’s night, why not settle the long standing debate? And at the beginning of restaurant week with a $30 prix fixe when steak alone costs $28 on the regular menu, why not?!
There is nothing more unnerving than letting go of what you’ve created. IFP workshops are one thing — accepting criticism, listening attentively as your peers tell you, “It’s too melodramatic” or “You could really shorten this” — but watching a production of your own play? That’s a whole new precipice of stress.
