In many ways, I am still living the Pokémon dream, which caught me at a formative time in my life and shaped a significant part of my childhood. To say that I empathized with the characters in the TV show and the video games would be an understatement: I aimed to embody what it meant to be a Pokémon trainer.
Some alternative suggestions for Harvard Economics t-shirt slogans, including “Like the Keystone Pipeline, but to Goldman Sachs" and “Looking for a causal relationship.”
As Nunziato spent more time living in the RV, though, especially during the pandemic, she recognized the small joys of staying in one place: she could appreciate the rhythms of nature, from the jumping grasshoppers to the flitting birds to the sprouting weeds, and take necessary, valuable time to understand the land and speak to its people.
This doubt reached a breaking point when I came to Harvard. Freshman fall, I fell flat on a scale during an audition and didn’t make the cut. I suddenly realized my peers were international and national competition winners. I stopped playing. My world fell silent, my violin case slipped under the bed, and my sheet music lay untouched.
As the traditional brick-and-mortar-based model collapsed due to the pandemic, restaurants pivoted online, sparking a wave of attractive, easy-to-launch “ghost restaurants” vying for sales and survival.
When my parents suggested we take daily walks together as a family early in the morning, I leapt at the opportunity — here was another chance to fill up my day. But as the walks swung unpredictably from 20 minutes to a full hour, as we wandered from one end of the neighborhood to the next, baking under the hot Jersey sun, the walks became more than just another invite in the Calendar. Life was expanded to include the routes between.
Spherical vehicles float up each of the tubes, almost as if they were water and sap molecules and the towers were the tubular xylem and phloem transport system of a plant. This building is anthropomorphic. It lives and breathes as its own being. As unusual as this all may seem today, it could be Hong Kong International Airport in 2100.
Two Harvard undergraduates are attempting to remedy the crushing isolation facing many people living in senior care centers during the pandemic.
She remembers often feeling underrepresented when auditioning for lead roles when she was younger — she was often one of two Asian-Americans waiting backstage. Now, Chen no longer feels as if she can only audition for the token “type-A student or best friend.”
Each cut of the scissors through the noodles effectively severed any connections I had hoped to make with the old lady through our shared cuisine, language, and culture.
Perceptive Automata, a Boston-based startup founded in 2015, aims to make the presence of autonomous vehicles on our roads as mundane as asking Siri to tell a joke. But the stakes may be higher than the ones chipper AI assistants present: while Siri’s occasional misinterpretation of a simple command might result in an inconvenient manual Google search, a self-driving car’s mistake could result in a fatal accident.
“In summary, we totally f*#ked up this Kickstarter campaign,” admits Uncharted Play.
Yet over the course of our conversation, their story — how they individually pursued their passion for history and literature and, eventually, came to work together as colleagues and close friends — is anything but boring.
To some, this is little more than another bubble to fill on a fifteen-page form or test. But do these multiple choice options oversimplify the nuances of one’s racial identity?
The year is 1978, and five women gather outside the office of Social Studies department chair Michael Walzer. As they wait, shoes tapping, they discuss the most recent Phillips Brooks House Association meeting and debate strategies for empowering marginalized groups. They are here to write their thesis — together, not alone.