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(09/01/22 12:00pm)
It’s what you’d expect from the university named Playboy’s top party school in 2014. A makeshift rig of colored lights. Sugary sweet, barely–tastes–like–alcohol jungle juice pouring from a Gatorade cooler. A song blaring from buzzy speakers with the bass cranked all the way up (probably “No Hands” by Waka Flocka Flame, “Mr. Brightside,” or that remix of “Heads Will Roll”). A booze–fueled, nearly wasted mass of bodies, jumping in unison, letting go of their inhibitions to the tune of a Friday night frat party.
(06/04/22 3:00pm)
If you frequented YouTube in the 2010s, you probably came across Marcel the Shell With Shoes On, a three–part series of under–one–minute stop motion mockumentary–style videos following a one–inch–tall shell and his tiny life within the corners of a house and the comparatively large objects within it. The brainchild of filmmaker Dean Fleischer–Camp and comedian–actress Jenny Slate (at the time a couple, since separated), the Marcel the Shell with Shoes On shorts have now been expanded into a feature–length film produced by A24 and set for a summer release.
(05/13/22 11:00am)
When Chris Picchiello (N ‘22) walks into Saxbys, a huge smile spreads across his face. As he approaches the counter, he waves at half a dozen people he recognizes in the cafe. He’s come in an hour and a half before his shift starts to talk with me, but he’s already chatting with his coworkers across the counter as he orders his drink, his usual—a cold brew with almond milk.
(04/06/22 7:48pm)
I’m staring up at the extension cords and string lights hanging from the ceiling of the basement of Traitor Joe’s, a “house show vessel” about ten blocks from Penn’s campus, as Michael Auble (C ‘21) and his band Away Game are getting tuned for their set. The basement is a glorified laundry room—a rug, mic stands, and amps at the bottom of the stairs form a makeshift stage, but in the back, next to guitar cases and the soundboard, a full washer and dryer sit in full view, paint peeling from the walls behind. As Away Game plays their first song, the whole space is filled with Auble's bass, guitar from bandmate Justin Roa, and Dom DiPietro on drums. The room is all sways and nodding from the few dozen people that crowd the basement, Away Game’s sound nearly shaking the whole house. As they finish their first song and tune up for the next, Auble steps up to the microphone and thanks Traitor Joe’s for having them play.
(03/01/22 3:41am)
As you scroll through your Instagram feed, in the stream of pictures from sorority formals, aesthetic weekend excursions to South Street, club event notices, and perfectly manicured photos posted by official Penn accounts, you come across a long caption under a photoshopped image of Amy Gutmann. If you’re familiar with the content of @pennmemes, you know you’re about to be launched into the head of the anonymous person who graces your feed a few times a week with relevant memes—and occasionally, a long stream–of–consciousness caption.
(02/15/22 8:57pm)
In English class, the teacher explains that everything
(01/18/22 7:00pm)
Confusion. Chaos. Miscommunication. When Penn students test positive for COVID–19, nothing about the isolation process is clear.
(12/06/21 5:00am)
At 6 a.m., I slide the window open and greet my first customer. “Good morning! What can I get for you today?” I ask. I punch the order into the register and tap the button to start an espresso shot. As they search their wallet for cash, I steam the milk. Three pumps of vanilla. Espresso. Frothy milk on top. I secure the lid, place the coffee in their hand, give them their change, and wave as they pull away. Three more cars have now piled behind. It's 6:02 a.m.
(11/04/21 2:19pm)
You’re lying on a bed in a dimly–lit room. Music surrounds you, and the air is soft on your skin. You slip a lozenge under your tongue. As it dissolves, you close your eyes, settling in for the experience ahead. Sitting beside you, a therapist offers a reassuring presence. If anxiety sets in, you’re prepared: deep breath in, then out. Slowly you ease into an altered state of consciousness as visions, memories, and visceral sensations wash over you in waves. Your journey begins.
(09/27/21 11:39pm)
When I enter the kitchen, I’m greeted by a chef tossing salad. Behind him, a huge pot of water bubbles, and sauce is stirred over a stovetop. I’m hit with the smell of spices, sweet tomatoes, and garlicky bread baking in the oven. I immediately feel immersed in the kitchen, a sense of excitement washing over me as another chef asks me how I’d like my food prepared and carefully plates my meal. For a moment, I forget I’m in a dining hall.
(09/21/21 3:54pm)
It’s the club that no one asked to join.
(05/16/21 4:00am)
Elizabeth Balabayev’s (LPS ’21) college career began before many of her Penn classmates were even born.
(04/05/21 2:02am)
A few years ago, Riverdale was one of the most popular teen shows on network television. It made huge stars out of its lead actors, became loved and hated by many for its ridiculous storylines and generally memeable moments. Then the show fell apart, the wild plotlines made less and less sense, and it escalated to a level of cringe and confusion that made it harder and harder to follow. Now, it’s one of those shows that you might play in the background when it eventually makes its way to Netflix months after its airdate on the CW.
(03/24/21 4:30am)
“Sometimes, it feels like Penn cares more about making money than the actual health of its students,” says Angelica Meliksetyan (C '24). That’s just one of many expressions of frustration since Penn’s February announcement that, starting with the Class of 2024, sophomores would be required to purchase a dining plan. For many, this new policy feels like an overstep that limits student freedom, not unlike the requirement for all sophomores to live on campus. But for Angelica, her Type 1 diabetes means that being forced to eat on a dining plan poses a threat to her health.
(03/17/21 2:11pm)
Few things are as painful as a memorial service—except, maybe, a Zoom memorial service. It was early May 2020, the middle of finals week, and about two dozen of my family members had gathered on Zoom to remember my grandfather, who had died two weeks prior. In some ways, it had been a long time coming: His dementia was severe and it had been a few years since he was really himself. To some degree, I had already grieved for him: I had gone to see him in the summer of 2019 while visiting my aunt on the West Coast and had left with the knowledge in the back of my mind that I was seeing him for what could have be the last time.
(02/25/21 4:05pm)
"What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?" is Bill Murray’s classic, existential line in Groundhog Day. Though in his case, he’s stuck reliving the same day over and over, his words also encapsulate the endless stretch of February—the repetitive melancholy of late winter days that has now been magnified in the midst of a pandemic that, more or less, keeps us confined to our homes day in and day out. As I weather the lonely pandemic winter, I’ve found myself sinking into the comfort of rom–coms. One corner of this genre has been a specific joy: the time–loop romance movie.
(02/17/21 4:14pm)
The following contains mild thematic spoilers for 'The Wilds.'
(02/09/21 11:07pm)
If one productive thing has come out of the angst and isolation of the pandemic, it’s good music. Our favorite artists are going just as stir–crazy as us, and the result is surprise albums, quarantine live stream concerts and, of course, amazing covers. The value of the cover in the past year has been the comfort they provide—the familiar balm of favorite songs, reimagined as a distraction from our otherwise uncertain reality.
(02/03/21 3:17pm)
The Occupy Wall Street of our generation is here, but it’s living through memes and the internet rather than protests on New York streets. For decades, financial markets have been a game enjoyed only by the white–collared and wealthy. Now, it’s Gen Z’s turn to play.
(01/26/21 1:36am)
The opening sequence of the Michael Bay–produced Songbird was perhaps the best part: a cacophony of radio dispatches and news anchor commentary as we’re flashed aerial shots of an abandoned city à la I Am Legend, except set in Los Angeles instead of New York. “New strand, new year!” says a voice seeped in cynicism. “Remember the good old days of fake news? Real news is worse,” says a talking head in a mocking tone. It’s a clever introduction, but from there, it’s all downhill.