Reading Janie Fleming's article entitled "Finding a recipe for happiness in that someone special" in the April 7 issue of the 'Prince,' I felt mildly amused again by some of our naive attitudes toward human happiness.
Quickly now: outside of class, what was the last poem you read?Perhaps this question has left you slack-jawed and silent; if not that, it has most likely forced you to dig a little bit deeper into your memory than if I had asked, say, "What was the last trashy paperback you read?" or "Where was the nearest bathroom your freshman year?"My point, of course, is that the reading of poetry in America as a form of entertainment has fallen into disfavor in recent years, and it is currently so rare that I have given up my search for a soul with whom to spend the early morning hours discussing John Donne's quirky brilliance, T.S.
Am I the only one who realizes that people don't speak to each other outside of the classroom at Princeton?Not speaking is a foreign concept to me.
In the State of the Union Address in January, President Clinton had the crowd roaring with his proclamations of good fortune throughout the land.
In my opinion, Princeton is doomed to mediocrity in computer science. You still think the finest thing is to be a physicist or a mathematician.
The ongoing process of amending the current P/D/F system is a fine example of students and administration working together.
Seeing my father trying to convince little Kathleen Elizabeth Vanderkam (my brother's kid, born March 10, 1998) that she should follow his lead and study Hebrew when she goes to college started me thinking.
'Nassau' coverageWe are writing in response to the particularly offensive and unacceptable references to eating disorders published in the Feb.
Sometimes the strangest, most simple thing makes you think twice. Or three times. Or even makes you sit down and write about it.Walking around campus, off in your own world, you miss lots and care little.
The rumor mill is reporting that about 20 seniors in the Department of Politics couldn't make it to Corwin Hall with their theses by 5 p.m.
Musing on the month, Shakespeare once said, "Proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim / Hath put a spirit of youth in everything."Will was a smart guy.
I am awakened early by someone on my apartment balcony banging on a can; painters trying to open a container.
Typical Princeton students who caught basketball fever this spring are having their styles seriously cramped by departmental relocations resulting from the Frist Campus Center's construction.
On 1998 baccalaureate speakerAround this time last year, when the administration announced that Senator Bill Frist of Tennessee would address the Class of '97 at its baccalaureate services, my roommate Josh Cohen '97 and I protested to the 'Prince' that the University was trotting out yet another politician to address its graduates.
Almost morning. My eyes open, I refamiliarize myself with the world. Reality is in the grey color of predawn, the fuzzy undefinition of the not quite blind.
On dorm-construction dilemmaWhile we all were disappointed with the recent construction developments with Scully Hall as disclosed in the April 1 Daily Princetonian, I think we should attempt to put these events in some perspective.First, I think we would all agree that the administration's recent record of construction management has been exemplary over a broad range of projects.
Integration is a myth. It isn't a reality. I'm at a loss. Growing up biracial has been anything but easy in a country that is still extremely segregated.
In case you haven't noticed, Princeton is rich. Each of us pays nearly $32,000 a year to attend the University, which is nothing compared to the $25 million being spent on a new student center, which is nothing compared to the $750 million being raised by the "With One Accord" anniversary campaign, which is nothing compared to Princeton's endowment of over $4 billion.I don't know about you, but I cannot even fathom such great sums of money.
Now that my dear colleague Hilary Smith has exploded the myth of the senior thesis like "Jiffy Pop," I thought that I would stop "kvetching" about the actual text of the tome and skip right to the acknowledgments page ? which, as of the day before my thesis, was still not done.After sitting in front of a half done thesis, pounding out lines on a caffeine high, I took a moment of solace to walk down by the golf course, contemplated the meaning of life, then figured it was all bullshit ? and I went in to watch the Oscars.
On defending 'intellectual curiosity'Reading Adam Ollendorf's column titled "Reading deeper than the commercial world" in this morning's paper convinced me to believe not that intellectual curiosity is dead on this campus (because it isn't), but that intellectual snobbery thrives.The message behind Mr. Ollendorf's piece pivots around his interpretation of a statement that Faulkner is "not all that bad." First, I would say that a student describing work as not that bad is actually a compliment.
