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(04/16/21 2:10am)
I remember the first time I heard the phrase “imposter syndrome.” It was at one of the orientation events at the beginning of my freshman year, but as a newcomer to Princeton, everything else around me was so exciting that that new term flew over my head.
(04/09/21 12:59am)
“You know that mask you’re wearing doesn't actually protect you, right?” a classmate asks me in February 2020.
(03/30/21 11:41pm)
Despite being Asian myself, even visiting Taiwan at least once a year growing up, I’ve always felt a strong aversion to watching Asian dramas. I associated them with my grandma, who could always be found watching Chinese dramas in her free time, and I thought they were cheesy and melodramatic, not much different from soap operas.
(04/01/21 3:10am)
The recent surge of violent attacks and hate crimes against Asians has led to fear, grief, and anger in the Asian and Asian American communities. Reading about the eight innocent victims of the Atlanta massage parlor shooting was a cold wake-up call for the country about the danger Asians and Asian Americans face daily — that people would go to great lengths to harm or kill Asians solely based on their race.
(03/29/21 2:33am)
In June 1918, the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote “First Fig,” a poem about doing too much.
(03/29/21 1:10am)
Let me begin with my body.
(03/26/21 1:40am)
For me, a fair part of the past year has been spent wondering what would signal a return to normalcy from the COVID-19 pandemic. Would it be the last patient taken off a ventilator and walking out of the ICU? Would it be a certain number of people vaccinated? Would it be the day all public health restrictions are lifted, and we can once again fill stadiums and theaters and bars without worry?
(02/25/21 4:04am)
The first time I bickered for an eating club, I had just returned from a fall semester off. I arrived on campus the first day of Spring Bicker, minutes before the event started. Dropped off at the Street, I approached the nearest building, hoping it was the right eating club.
(12/21/20 12:07am)
The room, or rather the bedroom, has become the spawning point for students everywhere. We get up in various time zones to take classes from our desks, our kitchens, and — most comfortably — our beds, and we greet our peers through Zoom. Our rooms are sometimes shared with others; other times they are decorated in our individuality. They could be covered in posters and art or permeated by plants and books. Regardless of its interior design, the room is where the never-ending cycle of class, sleep, Netflix, eat, and repeat takes place.
(12/21/20 12:41am)
On the last Saturday of September, as I was driving out from Costco on my way to Kroger, I saw a man holding a sign — only one lane of traffic away — asking for help. I was driving fast enough that I couldn’t fully read the man’s sign, and before I could do much else, I was already on the intersection’s other side.
(12/06/20 11:27pm)
The sun sets later day by day in the southern hemisphere. By an unfortunate combination of Princeton’s academic calendar and the onset of COVID-19, I have lived through three consecutive autumn/winter cycles, so it’s a refreshing change of scenery to finally roll into summer.
(12/07/20 1:14am)
I don’t consider myself to be especially religious. I pray before eating, touch my grandparents’ feet to seek blessings every New Year, and listen to my parents describe the origin of traditions during our annual visit to the temple. Nonetheless, growing up, Diwali, or the Hindu festival of lights traditionally celebrated in India, has been (and continues to be) a holiday I wholeheartedly embrace. I love Diwali for all of the light it forges in my house, for the seven lit candles which sit perfectly aligned on my fireplace for 10 days, for the sweets that cover every square inch of my kitchen counter, for all of the shoes I trip over as guests pile into my home.
(12/02/20 12:27am)
At 6:27 a.m. on the morning of Nov. 6, my phone rang. I rolled over in my bed, flipped it over, slapped my face a few hearty times to ensure I was up and ready, and swiped at the green telephone icon demanding my attention. I recognized the ID: It was a friend of mine.
(11/18/20 5:09am)
The first time I saw a video thanking and cheering on our health care workers — including our doctors, nurses, and EMTs — I cried.
(11/12/20 9:52pm)
Before leaving home, my phone history with my parents was sparse, to say the least. Most texts between my mom and I were of the “come home now” variety, with a few “don’t stay out too late” and “where are you?” messages thrown in for good measure.
(11/12/20 11:23pm)
Today is my ninth day quarantining in a hotel. I’ve been here before — two months ago, to be exact. This is my second hotel quarantine this year; the first took place after I traveled internationally to stay with a friend before the semester began. But while that quarantine was planned, this one was spontaneous. As life would have it, once again I have found myself in an unfamiliar place, quarantining alone.
(11/11/20 2:04am)
Since being sent to live with my family in March, I have been trying to keep myself alive. I am gay and have been forced to live with my religiously conservative and homophobic family. I fear for my safety.
(11/01/20 10:58pm)
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.
(11/01/20 1:30am)
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.
(10/18/20 10:39pm)
“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.