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On Tuesday, December 5, 2017, the Social Committee hosted the first ever Jingle Ball Concert Giveaway in the Frist Late Meal Gallery during late meal hours! The giveaway was for four floor seats at the Jingle Ball Philadelphia the very next day, Wednesday, December 6, 2017.
No one pays attention to the group of dancers gathered in the rafters at first, until four members of diSiac Dance Company vault through the aisles of the Berlind Theater pumping their arms to Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow.”
In my first article for The Street, “Lost,” I wrote about getting and feeling lost on an early autumn campus shrouded in mystery, its trees still holding onto their leaves, everything full of promise. Now, as winter approaches, everything becomes familiar, shrouded in memory instead. “In the beginning, I got lost all the time,” Lucy Zhang ’21 in Mathey said to me recently over lunch. “Now, I can’t get lost even if I try to.”
While we all share an excitement for the start of a much-deserved winter break this Friday, the traditions we will enjoy over the holidays are vastly different. This sense of diversity is the cornerstone of the Princeton experience. I, for example, have learned so much about the Judaism thanks to my roommate, Malka Himelhoch ’21, who is a member of the vibrant Jewish community on campus. She shared with me the details surrounding Hanukkah and specifically how her family celebrates this joyful holiday.
One Friday afternoon in late October, Jeff Whetstone, a professor in the visual arts department, was stationed in the Digital Learning Lab on the first floor of Lewis Library, sitting in a swivel chair with his black leather boots kicked off for comfort.
The two scenes are almost identical: both take place in the aftertaste of slam poetry, surrounded by smoky blacklight and boxed-in-bodies trembling to the rhythm of words, sounds, memories, and feelings.
“I remember what it feels like to dance. To move so freely that my body releases and creative intuition takes over, leading me beyond the worry of executing technique to a realm where nothing exists but the movement, the music, the emotions. I miss those memories of freedom, but they are embedded in my mind and my body. I can replay them whenever I wish.”
I felt like I’d been displaced, closed off from the real world. All that existed was the dark intimate space of this small theater. The night began with a trailer for the show, shown from a small screen in the corner. Scenes of death flashed by in fragments. A countdown announced both the elapsed time and the number of survivors left in the guest house. After 225 seconds, I was aware of a few things: The characters had gotten off a boat, they’d found their way into an empty mansion, they were being murdered one by one, and the murderer was someone among them. As someone who had never read “And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie, I was paralyzed in my seat.
When I was little, my dad used to tell me several stories about my grandpa’s time in the Army, but one stuck with me the most. Sometime in the 1940s, he was helping two tribes negotiate peace in the mountain ranges of Oaxaca. After a few weeks of negotiations, the two factions reached an agreement and planned a celebratory banquet. My grandfather, as negotiator, was the guest of honor and received the first plate of food. Much to his surprise, the main course he was offered turned out to be cooked monkey brains and other assorted organs.
Escaping the confines of the Orange Bubble is always exciting, and even more so when your destination happens to be your favorite city. This past Sunday, I decided to take advantage of Princeton’s suspiciously cheap Broadway tickets and went to see “Wicked” in New York City.
And this is where I scared you off. Not consciously, because you still smile a genuine smile at me when you see me, but that little thing where I thought you noticed me too was extinguished. I expected too much from you, too fast. Instead of finding a way to deal with my mental health issues, I pinned my happiness on you.
Thanksgiving is a flurry of orange and red cornucopia cardboard cutouts stuck onto supermarket windows and kindergarteners waving turkey-themed arts and crafts at their parents. Thanksgiving, for us, began with Dranksgiving and ended with Cyber Monday, an almost weeklong period of absolute excess. It’s not just Princeton. Overeating and overspending are ubiquitous at this time of year.
The ballet is a staple of the winter season, telling the story of a young girl whose mysterious Christmas gift, the titular Nutcracker, whisks her on an adventure through a magical land of evil rats and dancing sugarplums. From Nov. 24 through 26, the American Repertory Ballet gave this show a home here in Princeton, New Jersey, on the McCarter Theatre’s stage.
As an international student I knew what Thanksgiving was before coming to the United States. I didn’t understand, however, the importance of the holiday (as far as family gatherings go) and was baffled by my American peers' insistence on going home for the holiday. This past Thanksgiving was my eighth since I first came to the United States as a student, and I have certainly had some diverse Thanksgivings that I think other international students might encounter.
You wish you’d spent more time savoring the collaboration of PPE, collaboration you, a soloist, hadn’t encountered before college. (There were no pianos in orchestra. Jazz was unheard of.) You wish you didn’t have to campaign alone and stand on the street handing out pamphlets trying to beckon people to come to your senior recital to offset the costs of renting the hall, like you do now. Then, everyone worked together. Posters in a flurry, profile pictures popping up all over the net.
Nick Marsh ’90 graduated from the University with a degree in history and no job. Today, the longtime entrepreneur is CEO of Chop’t Creative Salad Company, a quickly expanding casual restaurant chain that recently opened up its 51st shop in Princeton, N.J.
Fall break. For most, those two words evoke images of relaxation, catching up on TV, sleeping, visiting family, leaving midterm essays until the last possible second, and sleeping some more. It is essentially a week-long nap mixed with a frantic bingeing of “Stranger Things” season two.