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(10/02/19 1:37am)
Every time I walk into the 34th Street office—so pretty much every day—I’m greeted with paper. The wall behind my desk is tiled with covers of old issues dating back to 2017. To my left are photos of former Street editors—one DFMO–ing, one as a child in a fedora. A note from my predecessor Nick Joyner is tacked right in front of me. An ad from "Professor Salaam" touting a "sexual powder" and protection from "mystical abuse" hovers directly in my eye–line on the back wall. A note saying “Good Job!”—I don’t remember who wrote it—sticks to the corkboard to my right. These are the ephemera that mark my time on 34th Street.
(09/20/19 12:10am)
Today I went to my English seminar on the 6th floor of Van Pelt, the seminar room with the great view of the Philadelphia skyline. The French doors were thrown open and a breeze pushed into the classroom. The doors were open because the room had been freezing, but as I sat right in front of them, I just felt invigorated by that first brush with fall, a sunny day with perfect weather and a beautiful view. Despite the fact that I had a midterm afterwards and felt criminally underprepared, the breeze felt so amazing that I almost forgot the sleepless night before and the stressful day ahead.
(09/11/19 2:56am)
I was thinking a lot about mental health this week. For the last few weeks, we’ve been editing and shaping a feature on antidepressant use—more specifically, what happens when you go off an antidepressant. What happens to your body? How do you feel? What makes antidepressants so important for so many people, and, for some, so desperately hard to stop taking?
(09/04/19 1:07am)
This summer, my aunt and I went to Bradley Beach in New Jersey. On our way back from the steaming hot beach day, abbreviated by biting green flies and triple–digit heat index, we pulled into the parking lot of a Wawa. After a month and a half working and living in New York City, I wanted nothing more than to pull into the nondescript parking lot and order a grilled cheese on one of the grimy kiosks.
(08/28/19 1:33am)
Welcome back! This is Annabelle, Street's editor–in–chief, interrupting your regularly scheduled programming to bring you a letter from the editor from a different editor, one whose near–constant guidance has gotten me this position and everything else in my life. Meet Sheila Williams, here with some motherly advice for the start of the semester and more than a few embarrassing stories from my childhood. Enjoy this first issue and this first week of classes.
(05/01/19 1:21am)
Well. We’re halfway done. Not the school year, but the term on the Daily Pennsylvanian’s 135th Board. It’s kind of messing with my head — the idea that my tenure here is bound by a calendar year that will be over before I know it.
(04/24/19 8:00am)
When I floated the idea to go random with Penn 10 this year, I wasn’t really sure if it was going to work. I knew why it should work—everyone at Penn has a valuable story to share, reinforcing competition can exclude important narratives, and randomness is a great, fun experiment.
(04/19/19 1:00pm)
In past years, Penn 10, a special issue highlighting graduating seniors, has been positioned as Penn's younger, cooler, 30 under 30. And that’s awesome, because so many people on campus are doing such impressive stuff at any given time. We spotlight some of these people every week in our Ego section, particularly in Ego of the Week, where we profile a senior who’s well known on campus and active in the Penn community.
(04/23/19 7:44pm)
This year is legitimately almost over, and it’s starting to freak me out. As I write this letter, there are two weeks left until the last day of classes. Finals are sneaking up, the seniors are near graduating, and my friend is even getting married at the end of the year.
(04/10/19 12:04am)
It’s been a long week. If you know me, you know I say that every week. But this week, I mean it. For one thing, my favorite show, Crazy Ex–Girlfriend, wrapped on Friday. And also, I’ve been trying this emotional vulnerability thing, and it’s exhausting.
(04/02/19 11:48pm)
On Monday of this week, I left my house on 39th and Pine and went the opposite direction of my usual route to The Daily Pennsylvanian office. I turned left on 40th, headed to Baltimore, and crossed the trolley station to get to the entrance of the Woodlands Cemetery. I had to go for class, but I wasn’t mad about it—it’s one of those places on campus I’d been meaning to visit for a while and never have gotten around to.
(03/27/19 2:50am)
I used to train myself to see food as a composite of nutrition facts. I checked for added sugar, maximized protein and fiber, loaded up on vitamins, steered clear of chemicals I did not recognize. Food was numbers and data, nothing else. When mealtimes started to cause more anxiety than joy, I realized I needed to see food from a different angle.
(03/20/19 2:33am)
When The Cut’s Anna Delvey piece came out in May 2018, it felt like my birthday. “How Anna Delvey Tricked New York's Party People” chronicled the meteoric rise of scammer Anna Sorokin, whose exploits in the moneyed New York scene belied her total lack of funds. This piece, and the immediate online reaction, ushered in an onslaught of think pieces, dream–casts for movies (the rights were optioned shortly after), and more than a few references to a Penn alum quoted in The Cut’s story.
(03/13/19 5:11am)
From Feb. 7 to Feb. 28, I received no emails on my Penn account. So if you were trying to get in touch with me, I’m sorry, I never got it. Honestly, it took a long time for me to notice. I’d been using the email app on my phone and computer, and the barrage of emails to my Daily Pennsylvanian account distracted me enough that for three full weeks, I didn’t notice anything was wrong.
(02/27/19 4:12am)
At last week’s print production night, we got a text that sent the Daily Pennsylvanian office into shockwaves: Penn’s operations had been suspended for Wednesday, Feb. 20. Our first — and possibly only — snow day of the year was here.
(02/20/19 5:00am)
This week, my dad got bit in the face by a dog, my mom and sister hit a deer and totaled the car, and my mom lost a very meaningful necklace (we think it's probably somewhere at the Department of Motor Vehicles in Frazer, Pennsylvania). All that is to say, it's been kind of chaotic in the Williams household of late.
(02/13/19 5:44am)
In my Shakespeare class today, we tracked all the uses of the word “love” in a few pages from "A Midsummer Night’s Dream" and plotted out what all of them mean—possession, marriage, sex, money, family, romance, patriarchy, devotion, obsession, death. The blackboard filled up in under an hour; drawings of triangles spilled over into hierarchies nestled under diagrams of umbrellas.
(02/06/19 4:54am)
I’m going to write my letter this week about something that’s constantly on my mind: my friends. Without Street, I wouldn’t have friends in college. Okay, maybe that’s teetering on the edge of hyperbole. But I wouldn’t have the same friends, and my friends now are the kind of friends who make working near–constant hours in a windowless office sound appealing. At the very least, they’re the kind of friends who are down to complain about it together.
(01/30/19 5:03am)
Breaking news, Street readers—I actually did my homework this week. I wrote out a list of 100 fears. Turns out that when you take a class titled "The Art of Haunting," you have to get familiar with what's scary. You have to write it out and let it sit. But this assignment was starting to freak me out.
(01/23/19 3:33am)
I haven’t always been tall. I guess it started around 8th grade; I shot up, got all reedy. Part of me thought it wouldn't stick. But I'm tall now—5 feet 11.5 inches, if you want exact specs. Any shoes whatsoever push me over the six–foot threshold. I’m the worst at concerts. When I stand next to my short friends, they joke that I look like their mother.