Hurrah from the Editor
School spirit is hiding somewhere in a third floor Van Pelt carrel.
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School spirit is hiding somewhere in a third floor Van Pelt carrel.
I screenshot.
This is a strange time of the year. Some seniors know what they are doing after graduation, most do not. It’s not jacket weather, but you’re cold if you go to VP wearing only a sweater. The fresh- men aren't really fresh anymore.
It’s 9pm on a Thursday, and I’m definition hangry. In preparation for my first Dim Sum Garden experience I ate lunch light and early, perhaps overcommitting to the cause. I keep reminding myself to relax my scowl and to stop speaking in fear of ruining friendships.
To Penn, we students are numbers from when we get here until we leave: 9.9% acceptance rate, 32 credits, 3.4 GPA, 10, 406 under- graduates, 96% graduation rate. And, as of this week, 30%—30% of undergraduate women are sexually assaulted by senior year.
When I hear the cliche "appreciate the little things in life," I think of a crochet potholder trapped under a plastic frame in the bathroom of a mom–and–pop restaurant in New Hampshire.
To the readers and to the trolls: In honor of shoutouts, I am writing my final HBEIC letter of the semester in shoutout form to the people who made this possible.
People tell me that I remind them of Kesha. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because of my terrible singing voice or my love of glitter. Either way, I'm taking this as a compliment. Because it's Fling.
I just wanted to thank Amanda Suarez for her Losing a Parent [“College Interrupted: When You Lose a Parent” from 04/02/15] article.
When you no longer have a home, a pet gives you a place to belong. That’s what Patriot, my stupid, fluffy, wide-eyed, snoring best friend did.
I tried to vote for Fossil Free Penn. And Penn told me I don't have a vote.
Finding out what other people think of you is weird. At best, it's uncomfortable. You want to know until you actually know. It's like when you're a kid and you want to eat dog food. Then you eat dog food and it tastes like ancient Wheat Thins and you'd do anything to get the taste out of your mouth.
My phone ran out of storage because of all my dating apps. JSwipe, Tinder, Hinge, Grouper and even Grindr (for journalistic research) framed my phone background (Word on the Street, p. 4). I swiped left and right to fall asleep. I swiped on the toilet, instead of homework, during family car trips: I was shameless.
Cultural appropriation is just borrowing something from another culture. “Offensive” appropriation occurs when the culture that is doing the adopting has oppressed, subordinated, or otherwise abused the culture from which it is adopting ideas, dress, etc.
“Did you make any friends today, Alex?” A Design Editor asked me last night.
Two nights ago I lay on my floor for five minutes in the dark admiring the glow–in–the–dark stars on the ceiling.
I’ve always said that my favorite part of being Editor–in–Chief is the opportunity to create for other people the same experiences that shaped me. As the head of the magazine, I may not be invited to all the pregames anymore and I may get a lot of shit talked behind my back, but I don’t mind. I did it when I was a younger staff member, and it defined my college experience. Street changed me. It made me tougher and at the same time more compassionate. It made me cultured and at the same time feel totally culturally unaware. It made me funnier. And it definitely made me more popular.
In the last job interview of my recruiting season, I was asked for the first time to identify my biggest strength and weakness. I was completely unprepared. I'd never been asked that before, so I'd started to assume it only happened in TV job interviews. Kind of like how people only kiss in the rain when it's artificial rain on a Hollywood set.
I absolutely hate startups. I've worked at startups, I constantly read about startups, I even wrote a 2,000 word article for this very magazine about startups but I hate "startups."
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