You know that Ego of the Week question, “There are two types of people at Penn …”? Well, after a little social experiment I took part in these past couple of weeks, I would divide Penn into BlackBerry users and everyone else.
It’s no surprise that smartphones took over campus long ago, but I didn’t realize the ubiquity of the BlackBerry in particular until I suddenly found myself without.
Last week I attended my first preceptorial ever. It’s not that I hadn’t wanted to go to one before this semester, but rather I was systematically shut out of every cheese-tasting, Barnes Foundation-going, ceramics-learning preceptorial imaginable for the past six semesters.
Thanks to three consecutive midterms, I ended up spending Fall Break in Philly. I don’t even know if it could be called a break (how Penn thinks that canceling Monday’s classes constitutes a vacation is beyond me), but it did allow for some quality time with my equally midterm-challenged roommates.
Ten years ago, Joan Shepp single-handedly redefined how Philadelphians think about style. A decade later, her Walnut Street boutique stands as a model for luxury retailers.
Shepp is often described in the same terms that are used to describe the coveted goods she sells: eccentric, brilliant and desperately chic.
I went to my first Penn party the January of my senior of high school. Fresh off the high of my early admittance, I visited a friend from home who was a freshman living in the Quad, and took in all of Penn’s earthly delights.
As humans, we are all driven by fear: fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of insignificance. But we college students (or, at least, we Penn students) are driven by another type of fear: the fear of missing out.