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Disaster. Destruction. Half-off at Philly AIDS Thrift. A campus drenched in dereliction. The culprit? Self-actualized twenty-year-olds pursuing their dreams.
If you didn’t know that Penn offers study abroad opportunities in the likes of England, France, Tel Aviv, Hong Kong, and Queensland, fear not. Even if you narrowly avoided being automatically enrolled in the Penn Global listserv, as long as you don’t live under a rock, you are likely to be informed by your peng you in Shanghai (who has a VPN), amigo in in Barthelona, or amica in Florence that they are eating better than you, taking easier classes, drinking more legally, and becoming more well-traveled by the second. In fact, you are likely to receive study abroad announcements from your entire social network, whether you care or not, by way of Instagram stories, BeReals (do they have that in a third world place like London?), and of course, I would be remiss to exclude the study abroad (public) diaries that my compadres have created as homage to their voyäges. Whenever I see medieval architecture, manicured gardens, foreign McDonald’s (trust me guys, it is SO good everywhere BUT America. You HAVE to try it. I LITERALLY go here everyday) on one of my “follower’s” stories, I make sure to swipe up and say, “Love the soft launch girl hope you are having sooooo much fun in Europe. Send me lots of pics!!!”
Contrary to what my creative writing professor and ex-seminar classmates may think, I actually totally understand the feminine gaze and women’s mindsets and am totally never misogynistic.
A decisive blow that’s sure to usher in new social interactions and a newfound appreciation for small, working-class communities: Penn Admissions has accepted a scrappy young fellow into the Class of 2027. Indeed, Penn has demonstrated a commitment to providing access to academic excellence for underrepresented minorities, but the decision to accept a student from such a historically underserved region has only deepened the University’s commitment and marked it as an admissions pioneer among top institutions.
As a history student with a dual concentration in intellectual history and economic history and a forthcoming magnum opus on the history of female Marxists, I thought it would only be prudent to take a marketing class in Wharton. As Amy Wax will tell you, writing off your enemies lowers you down to their phenotype. We couldn’t have that!
Let me set the scene.
Last night, a semi-circle of freshmen shared their most vulnerable feelings of insecurity, doubt, homesickness, and imposter syndrome right outside McClelland Dining and Sushi. Yet, in the freshmen tradition of late-night trauma dumping on friends they had only met a week before, it became apparent that one student’s imposter syndrome was incredibly stupid and lame when compared to the others’ more valid and cool imposter syndrome. Like, why were they even in the circle? They literally don’t belong here.
It's probably happened to you. And if it hasn't already, it's about to. You're going about your life as a super chill undergraduate. Next thing you know you go home for the weekend, and you're stricken by an ear infection. Your mom urges you to go to your doctor. Let's face it. You probably haven't been in that office since you had to get a physical to play JV volleyball. The walls of the office are covered in murals of safari animals. There are framed finger paintings in the exam room. Some woman in her twenties looks at you and the kids playing in the waiting room and asks "Which one is yours?"
Hey, what’s up you guys! I just got off my flight to Philadelphia International Airport from Heathrow, and I’m really excited to show everyone my upcoming Fall semester, going off the beaten path and (drumroll please) … studying abroad! I know, I know. I am a person simply consumed by wanderlust, and most people wouldn’t understand why I would want to abandon my campus and my friends for many months. I know, I’m different.
Rush season on college campuses across the United States is not a time of holiness. Sinning runs rampant; intoxication, fornication, and spiritual deprivation all accompany “Meeting the Bros” or “dirty rushing.” Any word preceded by “dirty” is not an activity that a good Christian soul should partake in. However, there is a way to do away with this filth and rush piously, how Jesus would. Here are seven tips to rush in the same vein as the Messiah:
I love fairs. Fair play, fairlife, fair trial, fair trade, renaissance fair, oktoberfest, Iowa State Fair, etc. etc. The only thing that I love more than fairs and the right to bear arms is clubbing. There is truly nothing better than paying twenty dollars for entry, twenty dollars for a tequila sunrise, twenty dollars for an Uber, not to mention sixty dollars for an ID that says you’re above twenty. That’s what I call putting your money where your mouth is. As my going out group (we went to Spades together last Friday and have vowed to only go out with each other from here on out) will tell you, I’m really great at doing mental math, even when I’m 2 Solo cups in. So I can tell you that the money I spend when I go clubbing amounts to 480,000 times the fun.
Folks, it’s that time of year again. Jobs, abroad, employment, studies, careers, travels, etc. all require a letter of recommendation! And if you are like me and need a little inspiration, here are some ideas:
On June 29th, 2023, the Supreme Court of the United States decided in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard that race-based affirmative action violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, effectively ending affirmative action in the U.S. as we know it. It’s been over two months since the decision, and as the Class of 2028 prepares their college applications in an uncertain, post-SFFA landscape, Under the Button sat down with three Penn students from all walks of (upper-class) life and asked:
Sent on Behalf of Liz Magill and Beth A. Winkelstein, Interim Provost
There are seldom moments in life when people believe so enthusiastically in your future: high school graduation, an engagement announcement, maybe a new job offer. Despite their significance in Western society, these events can’t even compete with the levels of passion shown by the club representatives lining Locust Walk in the heat of August.
Most of the people in this world are ugly. They are sick and twisted, yearning for the destruction of all things good and simple. I like literally hate it here.
There are certain rites of passage that no freshman should be deprived of regardless of their criminal record, BMI, immigration status, age, medical history, etc. Among those we have becoming executor for one’s parents’ estate, fuzzily consensual intercourse, getting lit in Wawa on Market and 33rd, and, of course, being granted access to the wet market (see US Prohibition era doctrine to understand). The US gets pretty much everything right, but we are completely backwards and third world with respect to our drinking laws. How at the ripe age of 17 and 11/12ths am I considered a legally consenting adult and yet I can’t for the life of me or the homeless woman who refused to buy me alcohol at a 5% interest rate get my hands on any of that good good or that wet wet? I’m not even talking hard core. I’m talking poppers baby, booze man.
Late at night I sit at my computer, slaving away at a paper about little red schoolhouses–that didn’t actually exist—and their impacts on ethnic minorities (none) in the mid-1800s. My roommates' gentle snoring no longer soothes me the way that it did that one split second I thought she had died and the gentle “HAH SHOO” proved my worries unwarranted. No, now I can only think about the ads for sleep apnea medication that I watched ad nauseam as my apneic stepfather refused to switch the channel from CNN to Food Network because “debates were happening.” How I wish to be my roommate. She has the pleasure of having me as a roommate. How I wish to be keeping her awake with my whimpers, as she tries unsuccessfully to figure out where it all went wrong (Horace Mann.) But alas, I am still me, the great witness to apnea. My mind wanders to Passover circa 2012 when it was not Elijah who came through the door, but instead, a choked up Matzoh ball that, with many tears, wheezes, and gags, came hurling out through the doorway that is my mouth. In my delirious state, I see a light. Jehovah? Is that you?
Oh no! Are you injured? Experiencing intestinal discomfort? Alcohol Poisoning? One too many slices from Allegro’s?
As the common app deadline approaches, incoming students may be looking for a reason to choose Penn. Out of all the reasons to select a college to attend, the relative size of buildings and objects on campus is by far the most important to consider. For those who did not get to visit campus before making their decision, fear not! Here is a tour of Penn's campus, with coin for scale. I sincerely apologize for my lack of gel manicure, this photo essay was spontaneous, as best things in life usually are.