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(03/22/22 7:44pm)
It's the Saturday of St. Patrick’s Day weekend, but instead of going out, I woke up early to trek across campus and conduct an interview. A man in clover–shaped sunglasses and a green sarong is verbally accosting me, and it’s the happiest I’ve been all week.
(03/15/22 3:00am)
At approximately midnight the night before I was supposed to leave for spring break, I decided to rearrange all the furniture in my room. Instead of packing my bags, I pulled out my measuring tape and got to work deciding which new layout would look best.
(03/01/22 4:32am)
At the risk of sounding like Cosmo circa 2011, I recently decided to try a new self–care challenge. But unlike its twee–era predecessors, the TikTok–popularized “75 Soft Challenge” doesn’t hold you to unrealistic standards or punish you for being human.
(02/22/22 8:52pm)
I used to spend a lot of time in bookstores—well, more like one in particular. Nestled between a consignment store and my mom’s go–to tobacco place was a used bookstore that had everything from history books about the Cold War (likely donated by someone’s grandpa) to trashy romance novels (courtesy of someone else’s grandma).
(02/15/22 5:10am)
I’ve never been more in love than I am right now.
(02/08/22 5:00pm)
Accountability is hard.
(02/01/22 5:00pm)
I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m bad at keeping up with my friends.
(01/29/22 2:41am)
I once told a friend that my life is like a game of pastel Tetris: I hope desperately that I can arrange all the pieces before time runs out. I sandwich internship applications between classes and production nights, reserving whatever time is left for some semblance of a self–care routine.
(01/17/22 5:00am)
As a child, I was never particularly immersed in pop culture. I didn’t consume mainstream music or kids’ TV shows, instead opting for a steady diet of vintage Hardy Boys novels handed down to me by my grandparents. Something about watching a story unfold page–by–page, the whole time feeling like you too had a stake in solving the puzzle, was infinitely more satisfying.
(12/07/21 2:23am)
I rang in 2021 sitting on the couch in my childhood home in White Plains, New York. It was me, a glass of sparkling apple cider, my nuclear–family–turned–COVID–bubble, and Ryan Seacrest, performing for a dystopian–looking, empty Times Square on national television. Brutal.
(12/07/21 2:16am)
Like most things in my life, the center of my journalism philosophy begins with Taylor Swift: If you start taking the routine interactions of your job for granted, you ought to stop doing it.
(11/16/21 12:00pm)
The first time I heard “All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault)” was just after 1 a.m. on the last warm night of November. I cried big, hearty tears in front of a gaggle of frat boys on the 41st block of Spruce Street, unconcerned with how I looked but deeply concerned with how I felt.
(11/14/21 7:46pm)
My least favorite genre of TikTok is this clunky, overdramatic one where the plot of Eddie Murphy’s A Thousand Words gets condensed into about 30 seconds. “How many words do you get this year?” reads a voice over. “One,” replies some shy–looking influencer, who then acts in an alternate universe where they’re bullied for being a mute. Someone always speaks up for them, and the bully always gets their comeuppance—which is, obviously, losing access to their own bank of words.
(11/02/21 4:00am)
I have a secret for you: I’m really scared of growing up.
(10/26/21 4:00am)
I’m not sure that I’ll ever grow out of the music I liked when I was 16. If anything, I’m excited to grow more into it, to claim the bands I like for myself and not the ones I pretended to so boys would find me interesting.
(10/19/21 4:00am)
Last semester, I felt conversation–starved. This doesn’t mean I wasn’t talking to people. On the contrary I was talking to everyone: my mother (about The Bachelorette), my roommate (about who would do the dishes), and my co–workers (about deliverables, obviously). Every exchange hovered just above transactional, but slightly below actual small talk. We’d chat about the weekend and the weather and what vaccine we’d got, but nothing more. It was always about what we were doing. Never why we were doing it, or if we should be.
(10/05/21 12:00pm)
I get really hung up on appearances.
(09/28/21 3:04am)
I can’t quite tell if we’ve returned to the land of precedented times. Last week, I babbled my way through a PowerPoint presentation in front of my political science seminar for the first time in a while—no screen sharing involved. But, barring the occasional water break, my mask stayed on the entire time. Penn’s libraries are open, but after a year of doing work at my bedroom desk, I’ve seldom sat down at my historic spot in the Van Pelt Reading Room. Every time I leave my apartment, I run through my usual mental checklist: wallet, keys, phone, mask.
(09/21/21 4:30am)
I’ve been listening to a lot of Mitski lately—well, really only the one song. “What do you do with a loving feeling,” it asks. “if the loving feeling makes you all alone?”
(09/14/21 11:00am)
Here’s a secret: I have a hard time writing these letters when I’m happy.