Advertisement

Introspection

Harvard Yard
Introspection

Do You Feel What I Feel?

Soliciting laughs at the expense of our struggles can be hilarious, but every now and then we ought to adopt a more positive outlook and foster actually productive discussions. The morose tunnel of dark humor can have a faint light at the end of it too.

Alicia Column
Introspection

Alicia Column

Fly Club Gate
Introspection

Growing Pains

I think a lot about how easily tempted I was. A letter, an envelope, a particularly melodramatic delivery system, and all arguments, statistics, and Crimson exposés vanished from memory. I was a little disappointed in myself, but mostly, I was confused. I consider myself a relatively secure person. I like my life here, sans final clubs. How could I hate everything about what they are and what they represent, yet still be tempted?

Ejin Endpaper
Endpaper

Mother-In-Law

Being educated meant one was versed in respect and social order. My voice was culturally unacceptable.

Alicia Column
Columns

The Pandemic-Era Allure of Productivity YouTube

This is how, in the early phases of the pandemic, I stumble upon the productivity side of YouTube. Over the last seven months, I have somehow found myself spending more time watching videos that tell me how to optimize my life — how to take notes, stack habits, sleep better, focus on work — than ever before.

Code Girl
Introspection

Code Girl

Liv Endpaper
Endpaper

On Poultry and Penitence

I didn’t expect the almost-de-feathered chickens Brent slapped onto my table to smell so much like the raw chicken you’d buy in a grocery store, given that I’d seen these bodies clucking and walking around only minutes earlier. The transition from “chicken” to “poultry” was startlingly swift.

Riding A Bike Illustration
Endpaper

Like Riding A Bike

But maybe there’s a way to outgrow training wheels without outgrowing imagination. Call it visualization, or self-romanticization, or a million more mature, adult behaviors — but in the end, I haven’t left the wild, unfettered imagination of my childhood behind.

Kalos Endpaper
Endpaper

On Harvard Summers

But sometimes I wonder, if I’d carried out my summer as planned, if I’d done my internship and went back to Harvard, would I ever have had these thoughts? Would I have realized that journalism wasn’t the field for me? Would I have committed to changing concentrations? Would I have mustered the gusto to commit to an even less employable career path? I can’t help but think the answer would be no.

Michelle endpaper
Endpaper

How to Say Goodbye

When I left home for the first time, I tried to imagine what it would be like for my younger sister. The bedroom down the hall is suddenly quiet. A pair of running shoes rests by the front door, unmoved. Drives to school, once hastened by Taylor Swift’s entire discography, feel strangely quiet without company. But the truth is, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t comprehend what it meant to be the one left behind — until now.

GWO Lens Cover
Introspection

The Lens: Shifting Plans

GWO attempts to establish his own type of normal upon returning to his childhood home to quarantine.

Collective Care Illustration
Introspection

Homecoming: Chill Girls

… often, what we’re looking for in these romantic relationships is what we find in each other.

Aiyana Lens Cover Photo
Introspection

The Lens: Lemons, Sleepless Nights, and Other Bitter Things

There are two definitions for the word “pith.” The first is the spongy white tissue that sits under the rind of a citrus fruit, coming from the archaic descriptor for spinal marrow. The second is simply the essence of something, its true meaning or feeling. I’ve found that it is easy to connect the two definitions, for the best way to describe the pith of my time in quarantine is a deep set, bitter sadness.

Rachel Homecoming Design
Introspection

Homecoming: Working Out In the Long Run

"This story doesn’t end with me running a marathon, trembling arms raised in victory and frigid medal between my teeth. I may never enjoy running, or even feel truly comfortable jogging with a friend." RC ponders what it means to run.

Roey Homecoming Illustration
Introspection

Homecoming: Birgitta, My Mother of Mothers

So I call her double-mother, and for life I owe her twofold, or more. My debt to her is pleated infinitely, like the skirts of the floral chair in her living room. When I was little, I’d hide beneath the wooden coffee table and play with her orange and blue Dala horses, the clacking of their lacquered legs muffled by the cream carpet.

Advertisement