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(04/23/09 5:39am)
With Fling (regrettably) over and reading days just a week away, I sat down to write this semester’s last letter with a mild case of writer’s block. I’ve written a lot this year. I’ve written about rock concerts, the Gap, gay bathhouses, the Roots — and that was just for my classes. Street has allowed me to write about Girl Talk, Miss Philadelphia, 90210… and pretty much whatever else was on my mind during any given week.
(04/16/09 6:49am)
Twas the day before Fling, and up to campus’s edge,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a pledge.
The booze had been smuggled into the Quad with care,
In hopes the RAs wouldn’t know it was there.
(04/16/09 2:51am)
Save for the occasional overly-contrived pop star, it wasn’t too long ago when cool chicks had a hard time asserting their dominance in a sea of musical testosterone. But then Jenny Lewis and Neko Case burst on the scene (backed up by dudes in their respective indie pop bands) along with Regina Spektor, and MIA and Santigold have risen to the top of the public consciousness this past year.
(04/09/09 4:59am)
This week, my favorite pair of jeans died. RIP black ankle-length skinny jeans with the contrast stitching. We had a good run, but alas, our affair ended due to two rather large holes that would expose my hot pink underpinnings to anyone looking in my general direction. C'est la vie. The whole situation got me thinking an awful lot about jeans though.
(04/02/09 4:41am)
We love lists. We love making them, reading them, crossing things off of them. Each issue of Street starts with a story list and ends with a production checklist. My MacBook desktop is littered with virtual post-its filled with to do lists. I’m a sucker for Pitchfork’s 100 Best Tracks lists and Mr. Blackwell’s lists and really any list that takes a great deal (or even a small deal) of information and organizes it into neat bulleted columns.
(03/26/09 3:29am)
Every day professors tell us all kinds of crazy stuff that we are expected to believe, no questions asked. The top three most mind-baffling professorial assertions I have been subject to thus far are:
(03/19/09 8:32am)
In an effort to make flying a little more pleasant this spring break, I decide to pack light. I threw a few sweaters, some jeans and a couple pairs of sneakers in a bag and headed to good ol’ PHL International. I was confused, however, to step off the plane into 85-degree weather. Had I accidentally hopped on the Penn express to Pulco? The distinct lack of tequila and illicit behavior indicated otherwise.
(03/11/09 1:09am)
My friend Kara’s favorite game is to ask new acquaintances to describe in explicit detail what they would eat (every meal and in-between snacks!) if this was their last day on Earth. Because, as she so aptly notes, you can tell a lot about someone by the food they eat.
(02/26/09 7:07am)
I am a nomad. I have lived four different places in my not-quite-three years at Penn, not to mention the two summers I’ve spent in New York City dorms. I have done the roommate thing, the living in a house with 30 other girls thing, the off-campus thing, the apartment-style grad dorm thing, the subletting thing. I’ve done it all. And I’m moving again in May. And then one last time in August. Just for kicks.
(02/19/09 5:16am)
When I was the Ego editor way back in the fall of 2007, my co-editor Chloé and I came up with a slew of questions that we routinely asked our Egos of the Week. One of those questions was, “There are two types of people at Penn, those who ____ and those who ____.” The answers to this question ranged from wildly amusing to mildly offensive, but they always struck me as quite apt. Maybe it’s not fair to classify students at this fine institution this way. Maybe it’s even unnecessarily divisive. Regardless, I contend that there are two types of people at Penn: those who love Fisher Fine Arts Library and those who do not.
(02/12/09 5:37am)
With everything awash in red and pink during this most hallowed/dreaded of Valentine’s weeks, my thoughts turn to soulmates of the fictional variety, those people you just know you’re meant to be with… if only they were, you know, real. See: Say Anything’s Lloyd Dobler, High Fidelity’s Rob Gordon (so maybe I have a thing for the not-so-fictional John Cusack?), Gilmore Girls’ Jess Mariano (not quite John Cusack, but underachieving, angsty and literary, nonetheless). But one guy stands alone as my one true fictional soulmate: Seth Cohen.
(02/05/09 7:33am)
Fact: Penn is an incubator for weirdos, myself included. I do all kinds of weird stuff. I won’t eat food kept in refrigerators. I have a fondness for men’s clothing despite my 5-foot frame. I prefer to dip my french fries in soft serve ice cream instead of ketchup. I find 4:30 a.m. to be a completely normal bedtime.
(01/29/09 5:50am)
“Isn't having a letter from the editor on the first page of your magazine self-indulgent?”
(01/22/09 7:13am)
While some of you frolicked in Cabo or hobnobbed in Aspen, I spent most of winter break holed up in bed (thanks Streptococcus pneumoniae!) in the ’burbs of the Midwest. Four weeks and three rounds of antibiotics later, I have regained not only my health, but also an appreciation for the brilliance that is Beverly Hills, 90210. Yes, 100 episodes will turn any casual viewer into a full-on fanatic.
(10/30/08 6:43am)
Election
(10/23/08 12:46am)
By the time I entered high school, I was already months into the greatest love affair of my lifetime. His name was Fabrizio and he was beautiful and sensitive and… the drummer for The Strokes. Fab and co. were supposed to save rock ’n’ roll.
(03/27/08 4:00am)
As a precocious 12-year-old at summer camp, I worshipped my 20-year-old senior counselor. She had a boyfriend and a tattoo and was impossibly cool. As an undergrad at the University of Kansas, she was friends with the Get Up Kids, an indie rock outfit from Lawrence. She gave me their second LP, Something to Write Home About, and I was fascinated by how different they sounded from the dreadful adult contemp bands that were flooding the airwaves.