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Chelsea Jones

The Daily Princetonian


Millennials have been called the "me generation," and if you were to search “selfie” on any form of social media, the claim seems well-founded.

The Daily Princetonian

What's in a name?

Despite the stereotype afforded to English majors, I am not terrible at math. I cannot say I enjoy the subject nor that its more complicated aspects come naturally, but I am certainly capable of basic understanding and usage.


Let yourself go (abroad)

In imagining what can only be the dramatic origins of a certain Princeton mantra, I like to think that one day a Princetonian on the cusp of graduation looked up at Blair Arch, its stones basked in a special sort of afternoon sun, and in a fit of nostalgia placed his hand on the shoulder of a passing freshman and warned, “You only get eight semesters here.” The freshman then thought of the very short eight semesters ahead of him and was struck with unease.

The Daily Princetonian

Smiling at strangers

In late October I was averaging what I thought to be an impressive four hellos on my daily mid-morning walk from my dorm room to Italian class. They weren’t people I knew exactly, for “know” is a strong word to describe our poorly defined relationships. They were other freshmen that I’d met in passing, friends of friends or people who happened to have the same dining schedule as my own. In those early months of school, there was the idealistic possibility that each fleeting conversation of “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “What’s your major?” could yield some blissful friendship or, at the very least, another lonely soul to acknowledge your presence as you trudged from one class to the next.  

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