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(05/12/22 2:21am)
It was a little over four years ago that I first stepped foot onto campus. I had missed Princeton Preview because of classes, so I was touring campus with my family later in the spring. I remember the sun scorching the back of my neck as I questioned why the Engineering Quadrangle was so distant from everything else. I was most confused by how buildings with vastly different architectures could constitute a cohesive campus — take, for instance, modern buildings such as the Lewis-Sigler Institute for Integrative Genomics and compare them to gothic buildings like Firestone Library. Nothing appeared to fit in.
(05/12/22 2:35am)
On the last day of April, I was rudely awakened by the noise outside my window. Assuming it was from the museum construction, I tossed in my bed and attempted to capture a few more precious minutes of sleep. Having failed in this attempt, however, I soon walked over to my window only to discover that the noise — the banging and humming, the occasional cracks and deep thuds — was not from the raising of a new museum but from the razing of the tree right in front of my dorm.
(05/12/22 2:41am)
When I gave campus tours during my first-year summer, I first explained the senior thesis by intimidating prospective students: it’s a 70-to-100-page behemoth on a topic entirely of their choosing, as traveling to great lengths and conducting deep research to defend your arguments is expected of (roughly) all Princeton students. Properly worried, one could then explain how the University actually prepares you for that process. During writing seminar in your first year, you become familiar with the conventions of research standards. Then after some exploration sophomore year, you get to focus your writing in a junior paper or two — challenging, but not overwhelming efforts that ultimately prepare you to tackle the greater task. I would feel an exhale from the group after providing that reassurance, which I gave with false confidence as if I knew then what it meant to live through it.
(05/12/22 2:53am)
I’ve always had a morbid obsession with the aestheticization of my own reality. In my mind, if I existed within the realms of the aesthetic — if my room was beautiful, if my clothes looked good on me, if my hair fell in just the right way — I would be happy. I aspired towards the Platonic ideal of “that girl” for the longest time.
(05/23/22 7:41pm)
“Long live all the magic we made
(05/06/22 3:01am)
There is something unusually cruel about making friends in the four short years of college.
(05/02/22 1:13am)
Dear Class of 2026,
(04/27/22 3:34am)
The earth has finally defrosted, and little signs of it are all over campus. The carefully planted tulips and flowering trees around campus add pops of color to a scenery whose palette, between stone buildings and snow, emphasizes white and gray for so many months of the year. But though these intentional bits of nature and springtime make me smile, my favorite part of campus’ emergence into warmer weather is the flowers that start popping up on their own, unexpectedly appearing on patches of grass that lay plain the day before.
(04/19/22 2:19am)
If there is one place you do not want to be famous, it is the hospital. Unfortunately, that was the position I found myself in last April when an ulcer ruptured my stomach. Over the past year, I have been called “an enigma,” “a mystery,” and “a surprising case.” No one had ever heard of a 27-year-old woman’s (with few prior symptoms) stomach spontaneously exploding.
(04/22/22 4:13am)
Anyone who has read my Self essay from last fall for National Coming Out Day might recall that I first came out to people by writing letters to them. I found safety and confidence in writing what I could not yet bring myself to speak out loud. I discovered the power in writing and sharing a story because in those moments, when I was writing and sharing my story, I happened to be saving myself, in a way, as well.
(04/22/22 4:09am)
I’m a queer Muslim.
(04/12/22 1:33am)
Leaving the physics building at night, my neck hurts from hunching over a notebook for so long. Only a few stars in the sky peek out, the bright lights from the stadium fighting for my eyes’ attention.
(04/22/22 4:12am)
Content Warning: The following piece contains references to drug use and gun violence.
(04/14/22 2:51am)
On Thursday, April 7, writer, poet, and professor Maggie Nelson joined Princeton Professor of English and the Program in Gender and Sexuality Studies Gayle Salamon on the McCosh 50 stage for a public lecture on her newest book, “On Freedom: Four Songs of Care and Constraint.”
(04/08/22 2:15am)
I’m a bit of a doormat.
(04/22/22 4:09am)
I built up the moment in my head for so long. With almost every person I’ve ever come out to, I have labored over the thought of having to actually go through with it.
(04/11/22 12:31am)
As I’ve written and published more essays in these pages, I’ve discovered a great joy in knowing that I’m writing myself into the story of this place, Princeton. It may only be a few thousand words by the time I graduate, but they’ll be there. Alongside headlines of prestigious prize winners and major world events, I’ve added, among others, one celebrating my birthday, some mourning my losses, and one honoring my identity.
(03/29/22 1:30am)
I don’t like math.
(03/23/22 3:31am)
Many people associate instant ramen with college students, and for good reason. Ramen lunches, dinners, and occasionally breakfasts are so ubiquitous among college students that the Princeton University Store dedicates an entire shelf to this convenient meal-in-a-cup. Unlike many of my peers, however, I fell in love with instant ramen from an earlier age. Since childhood, instant noodles have served as a constant in my life, following me wherever I go.
(03/22/22 1:41am)
Beginning my sophomore spring at Princeton and leaning towards declaring a Politics concentration, I stepped confidently into a familiar choreography: construct course schedule, participate, attend office hours, write, go out, regret it, pull all-nighter(s), receive grades, repeat. Signing up for DAN 208: Body and Language was merely another step in this carefully-constructed choreography; a pass (P) to protect the GPA, a 1:30-4:20 p.m. warmup for 4:30 p.m. fencing practice, and ultimately a course that both interested me and fulfilled the Literature and the Arts distribution requirement.