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(05/20/21 2:03am)
We were all accustomed to sitting with strangers in our first days on Princeton’s campus. The newness of the place demanded some degree of shameless self-promotion in order to build our networks of peers beyond those we would eventually encounter in classes and extracurriculars. During first-year orientation, we found ourselves constantly surrounded by strangers, but still willing to look past the unfamiliarity to delve into some of life’s most important questions, like: “did you do OA or CA?” In those early days, sitting with strangers was the norm.
(12/21/20 1:14am)
By now, many in the Princeton community have already borne witness to the saga of Scott Newman ’21 in some way or another. Perhaps you’ve read the publicly available chapters of his memoir, “The Night Before the Morning After,” in which he recounts tales of his adolescence and time at the University. Maybe you’ve watched his promotional video, or skimmed the New York Post’s coverage, or pored over the hundreds of comments on his recent posts in Ivy League meme Facebook pages.
(12/07/20 2:24am)
It’s no secret that Princeton professors are the cream of the crop. Their teaching is routinely lauded as some of the best in the world; they have been awarded Pulitzer Prizes for their artistic collections, MacArthur Grants for their groundbreaking research, and even Nobel Prizes for their contributions to the public knowledge. And these patterns are hardly new — scholars have been producing important work from within the Orange Bubble for generations.
(11/19/20 11:05pm)
“There is something dying in our society, in our culture, and there’s something dying in us individually,” she said. “And what is dying, I think, is the willingness to be in denial.”
(11/01/20 11:44pm)
In September, I attended a webinar hosted by the Program in Latin American Studies (PLAS) featuring Valeria Luiselli, the author of the novel “Lost Children Archive.” A few minutes after 5 p.m., a moderator from PLAS introduced the writer before removing herself from the main Zoom room.
(10/13/20 10:28pm)
The official Princeton transcript is not a pretty document, but it gets the job done. There, in 8.5 x 11 inches, I can visualize the entire last three years of my academic life, arrayed in neat lines of 12-point Courier font framed by a loud orange border that belies the intimacy of the words it circumscribes.
(08/16/20 10:48pm)
In private memory, this place [Princeton] is its halls, its library, its chapel worn to satin by the encounters and collaborations among and between strangers from other neighborhoods and strangers from other lands. In private memory, it is friendships secured and endangered on greens and in classrooms, offices, eating clubs, residences. In private memory, it’s stimulating rivalries negotiated in laboratories, in lecture halls, and on and within sports arenas. Every doorway, every tree and turn is haunted by laughter, by murmurs of loyalty and love, tears of pleasure and sorrow and triumph.
(08/02/20 10:22pm)
“The distinction between memory and memorialization is of cardinal importance. So is the relation between them.”