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I admire doctors’ mastery of medicine — knowing the intricate folds of the intestine like a memorized puzzle and navigating the maze of masked organs tucked beneath skin. They wear white coats of purity and stethoscopes of armor. They’re highly decorated, respected, and glorified. They’re calm with their tools, commanders-in-chief of the body, and menders of ailments. They care for our bodies when we aren’t sure how to — when pain inflicts itself upon us like an uninvited guest. Our bodies are our most valuable assets — an entangled blend of psychic, emotional, and physical scars. And so, living in a vessel as dynamic and ever-changing as the human body is a gift that requires multiple levels of both self-care and professional care.
It’s 2 a.m on a Saturday, and I am once again attempting to organize my Spotify library. So far, I’ve succeeded in making a measly morning playlist and finishing my 20th listen of “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton. Glancing at the time on my phone, I sigh and shut my laptop screen to get ready for bed, knowing full well that I will not be continuing my efforts tomorrow.
Everyone has their own approach for taking care of their mental well-being. When Animal Crossing: New Horizons came out this past March, I thought the game would be a perfect counterbalance to the stresses of a wildly uncertain year. The game’s premise was inviting enough: led by an entrepreneurial “tanuki,” the Japanese word for racoon-dog, the player is able to take part in a once-in-a-lifetime island getaway where they can design their own island and live in harmony with a collection of cute animals.
In a movie landscape oversaturated with sequels, reboots, and remakes, Christopher Nolan is one of the few directors in Hollywood who consistently delivers high-quality original storytelling to his audiences — and his latest film “Dunkirk” (2017) is no exception. With a star-studded cast of Oscar winners and talented newcomers, impeccable craftsmanship, and an inspiring narrative based on historical events, “Dunkirk” is one of the greatest war films in recent memory.
In the era of modern technology, the phrase “don’t talk to strangers online” has become an age-old adage instilled in our generation. However, this notion has been turned on its head for many first-years trying to navigate the uncharted waters of a social landscape that is almost entirely virtual. With few options to choose from, we have turned to various social media platforms in an attempt to salvage interactions with our classmates.
“I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey,” invites the criminologist narrator at the beginning of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” As we have all embarked on the strange journey of transitioning to a life with COVID-19, so has theater, and along with it, the Princeton University Players (PUP) and Theatre Intime’s annual Halloween production of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Glenna Jane Galarion ’21 is the opening act for Jason Derulo, the headliner chosen for virtual Fall 2020 Lawnparties. Born in Tokyo, Glenna Jane considers Las Vegas her hometown, but she is currently living in Ocean City, N.J. She is an anthropology concentrator with certificates in theater and music theater. Glenna Jane will be accompanied by Louis Larsen ’24 on drums, Ewan Curtis ’23 on bass, Christien Ayers ’23 on guitar, and Ed Horan ’22 on keys. The Daily Princetonian sat down with Glenna Jane to discuss the event and her music. The following transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and concision.
Earlier this semester, when I stumbled upon the chance to get a Masterclass subscription for $1 during a student promotion, I jumped on it with the alacrity of a typically frugal college student. The subscription gave me access to hundreds of tutorials and lectures, but despite all of the different topics and spheres within my reach, I only had eyes for one genre: cooking.
Having spent eight months and 13 days in quarantine after the COVID-19 pandemic arrived in the United States, I find it exceedingly difficult to remember a time when I felt comfortable in a room full of 20 people or didn’t have to wear a surgical mask during neighborhood walks. Enjoying life by way of its spontaneity and adventure — especially in regards to travel — has become operational, premeditated, and painstakingly planned.
Today, entertainment is political. Despite this trend, however, political conviction continues to elicit resolute objection: people continue to dislike the invasive nature of today’s politics, and especially its extension into entertainment and media. Our television shows, our movies, our music — voice after voice laments the loss of feel-good TV and mindless tunes written only to entertain us.
While there is no Nobel Prize for Architecture, there are a number of coveted top prizes in the field. One of these prizes, the Royal Gold Medal, was recently awarded to Sir David Adjaye, whose firm, Adjaye Associates, is designing the new Princeton University Art Museum.
When asked about how my parents met, I’ve conditioned myself to respond with, “It’s complicated.” I keep my language elusive and face straight to shut down any further questions they may have. I say “it’s complicated” because it is messy — it’s an inexplicable entanglement of traditional Indian marriage and true love, an assemblage of being found and finding each other.
Writing about poetry performance in prose is an endeavor bound to fall short. And when the deliveries are as expressive as those given by the Songline Slam poets at their “Newbie Arch” last Friday, the challenge becomes all the more daunting.
I’ve been active on Twitter since 2014, and it is exhausting. On the one hand, I’ve derived some very real benefits — I discovered some of my favorite artists and creators, refined my political and personal perspectives, goofed around in direct messages with my friends.
“What made something precious? Losing it and finding it.”
If you’re anything like me, sweater weather and rainy days make you crave hearty, indulgent comfort food. I’m always yearning for some gooey macaroni and cheese. For college students, the easy route is Kraft or Annie’s White Cheddar. Don’t get me wrong – those are delicious in their own gloriously processed and packaged way, but here I’m giving you a simple, home-made version of a classic dish. It can be made with ingredients you probably already have in your pantry, and is a total show-stopper to impress your friends (socially distanced, of course!).
Disney’s live-action remakes have always been contentious. On one hand, the fans want the remake to stay true to the original and recapture the magic and nostalgia. On the other hand, because recapturing that magic and nostalgia is almost impossible, the audience expects new elements to be introduced, either to the characters or to the plot, in order to justify the remake’s existence.
In 2013, President Eisgruber instated the Pre-read program to introduce first-years to “Princeton’s intellectual life.” Since then, each incoming class has collectively read and discussed a book selected by President Eisgruber and sent to them prior to their arrival on campus.
“I hope that nobody has ever had to look at somebody they love through a glass,” narrates Clementine “Tish” Rivers (KiKi Layne) as the camera pans from a close-up shot of Tish and her lover, Alfonzo “Fonny” Rivers (Stephan James), embracing in the sunlight’s warm glow, to Fonny being guided by a police officer to greet Tish through the glass window of a dimly lit prison.
“So yeah, I’m excited to live the life of an imposter UChicago student,” I joked to my friends at the end of the summer. I had decided to sublet an apartment a mere five-minute walk away from the University of Chicago (UChicago) campus for the fall and live with a stranger, rather than stay at home in New York, a decision that often warranted some explaining. The short answer is that I wanted to spend time near my older sister, who’s currently living in Chicago.