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(02/03/14 10:27pm)
It’s February, and while this can mean a lot of different things for Princetonians, there’s one particular feature of the college experience that many of us undergo at this time: applying to internships. While I can’t speak for everyone, I would say the search for the perfect internship is always a fairly stressful one. First, it’s always tempting to apply to the first few that you fall in love with. Even with your heart set on one specific opportunity, though, contingency plans must always be made. With each summer possibility comes a time-consuming application, or equally as frightening, a simple request for a cover letter (the magical formula for which I have yet to crack). Still, these parts of the process cannot compare to the one that will forever haunt me: letters of recommendation.
(12/02/13 9:50pm)
The day classes end for Thanksgiving break is a cold and rainy one, a perfect day for being alone with your thoughts. My three roommates have already left for home, and, all alone, I mull over in my mind something I’ve been putting off. After going back and forth about it, I finally decide: It’s time. I put on my boots and coat, grab an umbrella and head for my destination.
(11/24/13 7:03pm)
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the phrase, “College is the best four years of your life!” Seeing as I am only a little more than a quarter of the way through college, I can’t really vouch for the truth of this statement. But I can say, it has taken me only one year to realize that, much to my dismay, these “best four years” are generally considered so mostly because of the parties and pregames.
(11/11/13 9:06pm)
For anyone who is a fan of the dying art that is late-night comedy, you might be aware of “Saturday Night Live” member Kenan Thompson’s slightly controversial interview in which he explains why he thinks the show has yet to cast a black female. In a few words, Thompson said that the ones who audition simply “aren’t ready.” Despite this, this past weekend, Kerry Washington—accomplished black actress and star of the show that rules my Thursday nights, “Scandal”—hosted.
(10/07/13 7:10pm)
Before first arriving on Princeton’s campus last fall, I had subconsciously created a checklist with a million and one expectations for my four years here — meeting amazing people that I’d call friends for life, or discussing Thoreau under an oak tree. I admit that this isn’t the smartest thing to do, but with so many people telling me how amazing and life changing college would be, how could I not anticipate these experiences I was told were supposed to be happening? For the most part, a good chunk of these expectations have been met or will be. But one important one, one that is a bit more time-sensitive, has yet to occur. I am, of course, talking about finding the love of my life.
(09/23/13 8:23pm)
This past Saturday, as I was getting dressed to go out, I heard indecipherable shouts coming from outside (call it luck of the first floor). I was waiting for my own pickups, so naturally my roommates and I dashed to the common room window to get a better look. Instead of hearing the sweet sounds of African a cappella, I heard random mathematical symbols. “Are they chanting epsilon?” my roomie Jackie asked. “And delta … ?” Luckily, a friend who was over was able to fill us in on what was happening: Greek rush.
(02/05/13 11:00pm)
It has taken only one semester at Princeton for me to make a realization: I love college. I love (most) of the courses that I never could’ve dreamt of taking in high school. I love the random outings with my friends, especially the beautifully spontaneous ones I almost never had in high school.