We soaked in Philadelphia in all its brilliant, flashy, beeping, honking, waving, screaming, shouting splendor
We must guard diligently against rewriting the past just to please the popular opinion of the day and to make people comfortable in contemporary society.
Making out, sex, and everything in between — all with no strings attached. Sounds perfect, right?
Throughout the entire journey, from hopping onto a packed trolley car to emerging aboveground through the beautiful glass head house of Dilworth Park, I feel completely immersed in the Philadelphia community.
Despite many fraternities’ cult-like efforts to keep pledging under wraps to avoid prosecution, most Penn students have heard accounts from pledges about sleepless nights, humiliating activities, and servant-type orders from pledge masters.
The moment our phones are held up in our hands and our headphones in, walls are put up and barriers are created.
I went through an administrative process only to end with links to readily available databases. My CAPS experience wasn’t a referral as much as it was a brush-off.
No matter how much it’s stigmatized, how unusual it might be to be open to talking about it, my anxiety and depression have taught me to care for myself.
I’m glad my decision to attend the parade won’t be hampered by a class absence, but if the parade were as important to me as it seems to be to some people, I’d happily chug a couple green beers, rub some dirt on that shiny attendance record, and go make memories.
I had the most fun I’ve ever had in this city. For the first time in my academic career here at Penn, I felt like a Philadelphian.
Pulling trig has become the holy cure for a wild night of debauchery, but no one seems to know exactly what it does.
The awkwardness of meandering through a question you don’t quite know how to ask shouldn’t stop us.
What do we do when something we love becomes something we hate?
My respect for a professor goes up exponentially if they can open up about their struggles because it shows perseverance and resilience.
The price that you pay on a Canada Goose jacket is not just money, but also the life of an animal.
One day not too far away, Locust Walk, which I trek up and down every day in mundane familiarity, will become a path of memories I can only trace in my mind.
Some may argue that Muybridge’s female photographs fall under the umbrella of “human motion,” but do photos of women on the toilet really constitute representative human movement?
It’s becoming a rarity for me to meet a woman who hasn’t been sexually assaulted at Penn. I’ve only been a student here for six months; this is just the tip of the iceberg.
Like my accent, my home is blended. Instead of a bundle of discrete experiences in one city, home subconsciously grew into a collection of dynamic nuances in multiple places.
In our everyday lives, we underestimate how good it feels to recount our day to a friend, or even call our parents and laugh about something that happened at home.