50 Years of 34th Street Magazine
“First, a soothing word.”
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“First, a soothing word.”
We haven't been in Commons since our freshman spring. Back then, our palates couldn't distinguish between the spongy earth of a cafeteria veggie burger and Trader Joe's tofu marinade.
“The deck is really stacked against you when you’re not running as an incumbent,” Lauren Lareau said. Her opponent has a tenure as entrenched in suburban Pennsylvania as a Girl Scout’s cookie–selling route.
“It would have been easier if we were on a float,” Nick Silverio (W ’18) explained carefully.
Walk through the CVS aisles, and you’ll feel the pull toward one of the colorful packaged foods. Maybe toward the pastels of the Jordan almonds, or the uniform Goldfish crackers, or the plasticine, seductive candy aisle. Maybe you’re just hungry—or maybe you’ll be drawn in and driven to create. Personally, my muse is the bright yellow package, the one that says Fig Newtons. When opening a new box, I savor the rip of the microseal. It’s like opening a notebook for the first time, when all the pages are blank.
“Education, not deportation,” a swell of 20 students chanted as they formed human chains on either side of Locust Walk.
A red baseball cap with white text across the front. If you’re like the average Penn student, such a hat probably makes you reflexively think of President Trump and his campaign.
When Kyra* is in class, her therapist is sleeping. When she sits down to eat dinner, her therapist is just beginning to wake up for the day.
Araba entered the room scooter–first. It was electric blue, and she was wheeling it beside her. It leaned against a banister while she talked. She had just gotten off the phone with her boss at GQ Magazine.
Ogul Uner (C’17) has never seen a person die. The group of students who volunteered a year before him did.
It would be easy to pigeonhole Mike McCurdy (C'17) as Penn’s Troy Bolton. He plays sprint football! They won the championship! He also sings for Penny Loafers! A Troy Bolton for sure.
“Here,” Rich texted when we were supposed to meet, “looking really grungy.”
Amy* didn’t have much experience with sex in high school. But she thought that college would be different. Once she began going to parties at Penn and witnessing hook–up culture firsthand, though, she didn’t feel a stirring of sexual attraction like she thought she would.
The most common item in Penn's Lost and Founds is the scarf. Between the Houston Hall and Bookstore lost–and–founds, there are dozens of them. They look sad and raggedy. Thick wool scarves twist with threadbare mildewy scarves: If there are too many scarves in a pile, they tangle together like a lonely, wool tumbleweed and have to be pulled apart. They've been logged in computerized catalogues and then locked away for safekeeping. There they'll sit, a scruffy mound in a black cabinet. In addition to scarves, there are a lot of single gloves. And hats. At the end of the month, they will all be donated to a local Salvation Army.
Anna was walking down Locust when her friend Jana flagged her down.
4:30 a.m.
Getting back to the states is rarely easy after a semester filled with super cheap intra–Europe air travel, a lower drinking age, plentiful beaches and hopefully easy As. Alas, study abroad always comes to an end, leaving students in the harsh American sunlight with only their stories from the past semester and Instagram posts of that wall in Spain to comfort them. Read on to hear how some of your fellow Quakers are handling the transition.
When Carol Quezada Olivo (C ’17) was a freshman, she saw a step show at the Penn Relays. During the show — a tradition that various Intercultural Greek Council (IGC) chapters participate in every year — groups perform rhythmic percussion dance routines that are competitive, but not contentious. The show cemented Olivo’s decision to join multicultural Greek life at Penn.
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