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This Tuesday, I’m not voting on abortion, you stupid liberal, I’m voting for who’s going to make Pennsylvania feel like home. A real home. One with all the dainty little frills of suburban consumerism, and pithy rich blue-leaning men who smell and look like truckies.
Yikes. Your mom just sent you a text:
Commons breakfast, so liberating.
What a rollercoaster of a day. What began as elation has ended in true sorrow and despair. Most people woke up today feeling refreshed, the extra hour of sleep leaving a sparkle in their eyes. Birds chirped and sunbeams glistened. Harmony and peace reverberated in the air. All was well.
And I thought my writing was unoriginal and derivative. You guys genuinely need to come up with better –or at least new– titles?
I love to participate in healthy habits. Whether it’s sleeping for a full 24 hours to attain beautifully clear skin and a happy heart, or going on a diet of only truly delicious food, I’m all for keeping my body at its all-time physical (and emotional if I have time because that’s not as important) peak. That’s why I am studying really hard this semester. No, I’m not wasting my time on the traditional classes offered at Penn. That would be absurd. Instead, I’m focusing on the art of dance workouts, specifically those of my roommate BeBanna Hochwoman (C ‘25).
The other day when I found myself fighting battles in the 1920 commons bathroom, Penn Period Project’s container of free tampons was a welcome beacon of hope on that slick, off-white countertop of a horizon. But my heart sank when I read that fateful word on the tampon’s packaging: regular. Erm… as if there’s a “regular” type of period to have. Do I only deserve proper menstrual care if the heaviness of my womanly flow fits society’s rigid concept of normality (which, I assure you, it does not)? But I digress. I had just regained my composure when I glimpsed the sign reading, “Got your period? We’ve got you!” as if to mock me and my untamable, tsunamic crimson tide. Needless to say, I left in tears.
I like to incorporate culture in my life however possible. I have Black friends, I regularly eat at Bento, my favorite sauce is Sriracha, I took Spanish in high school, I traveled to Israel this past summer, and most importantly, my girlfriend Xiao Ming is Chinese. Xiao Ming has taught me a lot about Chinese culture. We enjoy fortune cookies, orange chicken, General Tso’s chicken, China Daily, and Kung Fu Panda together. I now know how to say, “Hi, my name is Michael” in Chinese. By the way the way you say this is, “你好，我叫笨蛋” Whenever I say this at parties, I get an array of laughs, I’m such a crowd pleaser. I even got it tattooed on my arm! Xiao Ming is so great, not only because she is Chinese, but also because we get to experience culture together. She calls me gringo and I call her Mi Amor. We decorated our 2-bedroom with a mandala and sphinx statues, and our cat’s name is Pepe.
It started with an innocent conversation. We were chatting about old-timey paintings. You know, how people just looked like they were from the 1600s back then.
After subsisting off Grommen's caprese sandwiches and six hours of sleep for the past eight weeks, my body is reduced to primordial soup. I am just a sack full of organic compounds sloshing around. Not even a mitochondria in sight.
We’ve all been there. You’re talking to the kid whose net worth rivals a member of the Bahraini royal family (in certain cases, they may be a member of said family — we’ll cover that next). Yet you were raised in a poor, scanty 2,500 square foot suburban home in California.
The number one thing people associate you with is your face. But you yourself don’t necessarily identify with your face.
Why do we need a holiday to celebrate fear when, all year round, we are already constantly living in fear?
Only at this very special place will you be considered exotic if you’ve gone to public school.
The freshman experience at Penn is not about the Quad. It's not about homecoming, parties, or even making friends. It’s about watching countless hours of Robert Ghrist explaining Math 104. It’s about that naughty, mischievous smirk he gives when introducing a trick to make a problem easier. It’s about wondering how on Earth the graphics are so good in each video. Where is he getting this funding? Does he make these on iMovie? Is he eligible for an Emmy?
We have all been there. You see an athlete approaching, and you try and use every context clue to figure out what sport she plays. Tall or short? Ponytailed or French braided? On foot or scooter? There is a myriad of sports she could play, as she gets closer you squint at her shirt. It comes into focus. Penn Athletics… basketball!
I’m there. Wow. We made it in. Having such a great time at Berghain. There is dancing, there are drinks, people seem to be enjoying themselves. These characteristics make me feel safe and comfortable to enjoy myself, and I am feeling inspired to rizz. My friends go to the bar for round two, and I am momentarily stranded. That’s okay, I can pivot. I ask two girls where they are from, they say Montreal. Never heard of it, but it sounds interesting. Foreign, to say the least.
I recently traveled to the Big Apple (New York City) to meet my father for the first time. The whole experience was rather stressful. Between 4:30pm and 5:19pm, I had to sprint from my CIS 1100 Recitation in Towne 315 to my one-bedroom double in Harrision College House, pack all of my belongings, travel to 30th Street Station, and board the Amtrak Acela. I’m no math major (and if you’re reading this… you probably aren’t either), but that seems to me to be a very limited time.
Bread pudding …. Cute smile emoji.
Dear Reader,