On election night, while incessantly checking my phone for poll updates that I knew would never arrive, I started to flip through channels randomly on the TV and stumbled across “The Hunger Games.”
Rather than watching the case count on The New York Times or other news outlets, I track the number of cases by the times we are what my family calls “code red,” when we handle clothing with gloves and disinfectant and maintain distance until my mother, an anesthesiologist, has showered.
Of course, I miss people. Being alone is hard. But perhaps loneliness isn’t the evil we perceive it to be.
Today, we launched Intersections, a newsletter run by The Prospect section of The Daily Princetonian, dedicated to delivering arts and culture to your inbox. We round up articles from the week and share our recommendations for what to do this weekend.
Before leaving home, my phone history with my parents was sparse, to say the least. Now that I’m thousands of miles away, of course I’m texting my parents more. But as a high schooler, I would never have guessed just how often I would find myself, in college, reaching for the phone to contact my mom.
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. But, the University cannot help me.
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. I cannot stress this enough: I absolutely love this game. But instead of becoming an outlet for my stress, I found that the New Horizons allowed me to repackage it under the facade of playing a video game.
In a normal semester, students may have been able to sow the first seeds of a budding friendship by turning to a peer in an orientation hall or large lecture class to exchange a few words. Now, side conversations have become relegated to the Zoom chat, where a quick private message about an assignment might just spark the beginnings of a new connection.
I blame Whole Foods’ Camembert cheese display for sending me down an agonizing rabbit hole of nostalgia, and making me pine after a pre-COVID-19 existence.
In a semester where we’re all spending overwhelming amounts of time staring at our computers, it is absolutely critical to find a screen-free activity that also provides genuine respite from schoolwork. Cooking is by no means the only option. But we all have to eat.
It starts to feel crowded, with hundreds of takes rattling around in my head and hundreds of very human personalities flooding my timeline.
We asked members of the Class of 2024 to react to Jill Lepore’s "This America: The Case for the Nation," this year’s Pre-read selection. Here are their reflections.
Jamaica always seems to call me home — despite the fact that I haven’t actually been home since I had to flee two years ago.
Growing up, writing was my haven. My friends teased me for carrying a marble notebook wherever I went, pages brimming with mediocre poems my 12-year-old mind thought Shakespearean. Words, I discovered, have the power to forge rivers, oceans, mountains. They immortalize the rise and fall of civilizations, etch our names in rock and dust.
Whether you’re a die-hard makeup enthusiast or just someone interested in experimenting with their look, Prospect senior writer Megan Pan shares her tips and tricks for makeup designed for Zoom.
With all this rumbling in the back of my mind, throughout the past months I stumbled into a habit of trying to bring home the remaining things that make Princeton, well, Princeton.
The future I see in front of me for the next couple months is the white wall that stands behind my desk as I write these words. It looks like my friends and classmates and professors confined to Zoom boxes. It looks like more time hundreds of miles away from the place I’d grown to love as my other home. This is all so different from the future I so wish lay ahead instead.
Many of us have decided to behave as if the pandemic is over, or at least less dangerous than before. But why?
Arriving home in March without a return date, I sought to reconnect with those I had lost touch with. In doing so, I learned what could have been and, more importantly, what Princeton has given me instead.
I thought I’d been careful, and indeed I had been — degrees more so than most, if not all, of my friends and family. Then came the email: my SARS-CoV-2 test, which I’d taken as a precaution before seeing my grandparents, and not at all because I was symptomatic, was positive.
