Almost three years ago, right before I first came to Penn, the "good luck" and "bon voyage" that I had been hearing all summer from friends and other well–wishers turned into “don’t party too hard!” and “remember, school comes first!” I quickly learned that Penn is wildly known as “the Social Ivy:” the Ivy most affiliated with partying.
I have never been a partier, but I was curious to see the fantastic and potentially debauched social establishments for which my school was apparently famous. So, in the beginning of freshman year, my friends and I did as the Romans do: we stood outside frat houses and waited to be invited in.
During the last party we went to that fall, a friend and I left disinterested after only fifteen minutes.
New year, new me, new Highbrow. Highbrow knows that all of you lovely Penn kids take the start of a new year and semester in stride and use the opportunity to change something about yourself. And we wanted to know just what resolutions you guys had in store for the new year. So we asked and here are your responses:
I’m hopeful every self–respecting senior has, as I do, a bucket list. I have neither the space nor chutzpah to enumerate my personal bucket list here. For those who don’t have one, take comfort in knowing that mine is too long and mostly impossible and any points of completion will surely offer little solace when it actually comes time to graduate. In thinking about how best to utilize this column to cross something off my bucket list, however, I would like to issue a formal search warrant for my apparent doppelgänger, Tanya.
If it wasn’t necessary to the comprehension of this story, I would hide the fact that I frequent Einstein’s pretty regularly.
You’ve got two choices: chocolate or vanilla. If you really like pistachio, you can technically choose pistachio, but you’re still going to get either chocolate or vanilla, so you might as well choose between those two.
At Penn, liking chocolate means you fit in.
Standing on the corner of 43rd and Market with my weight in canned food sitting like a ton of steel inside my housemate’s hiking–sized megabackpack, my spine caving into an awful kind of inverted “U,” I truly began to understand the concept of the sophomore slump.
Throughout my time at Penn, I’ve amassed a truly unfortunate number of “that girl” monikers: “that girl who tweets a lot,” “that girl who makes sarcastic comments,” “that girl with the glasses,” to name a few.
I want to propose something. I know that it’s radical, dangerously so, but, with any luck, some of this world’s problems could be solved with just one simple change in our daily lives: we should look at each other. How often do you pass someone on campus, just casually walking by, and they simply refuse to look at you?
It’s happened to the best of us. You spend the evening chatting it up with someone in your hall/suite/living unit and end with that fateful question: “Hey, what time do you have class tomorrow?” The other person answers: “10 a.m.” You obviously start at 10 and pose the question: “Hey, wanna walk over together?” The person nods excitedly and your plan is set.
Stop right there.
That was a terrible idea.
It was 2 a.m. when I got off the plane in Kolkata, India, and immediately I noticed two things: the heat, which was almost suffocating, and the condition of the airport, which consisted of only two gates.
The Word on the Street column often ends with some sort of inspirational conlusive statement. This one was going to end with praise of the concept of “discovery”. In a fit of inspiration, I decided to skip the actual article.