Summer break is the time where we are liberated to pursue that project that has no clear payoff, but is something we are passionate about, to read that book we’ve been putting off for months, or even just to curl up in bed and binge Netflix all day.
Now, as a rising sophomore, I have more certainty and security than I would have had if I had just focused on fulfilling every requirement for the College.
In just a few days, the class of 2019 is going to graduate. But many individuals, like me, will walk across the stage without any parents present at the ceremony, thanks to President Trump.
Sure, I have been cracking unemployment jokes all year to hide how embarrassed I am and to hopefully divert people from feeling any ounce of pity.
Although the DP helped me avoid my problems, it also provided me with the resources to start acknowledging them.
Replaying the images from the last four years in my mind, there are many moments at Penn I don’t think I’ll ever forget (and many that are already forgotten). And for the most part, these moments aren’t the planned ones.
Class clownism goes beyond evoking a reaction.
Before landing in America, I thought I would be able to quickly form friendships at Penn, just like I did back in my university, and have a memorable, if not a little hectic, few months before flying back to normalcy. I just didn’t count on Penn being too busy for me.
An independent bookstore like the Penn Book Center is central to the preservation and continuation of culture. Its book-stocking decisions are local and responsive, not centralized or top-down like those of a corporate chain.
The independent Penn Book Center has always been and still remains stocked with both books and booksellers possessing the potential to surprise a reader.
I just wish I had come here once these issues were addressed.
When you think about why you’re upset about something, the bigger picture comes into play.
But as I come to the end of my college career, I’m hesitant to allow my perception of the past four years to be colored so negatively.
I can’t live my life thinking that I’ll soon die. At a certain point I’m willing to suspend disbelief: to let myself think I have the capacity to live a healthy and ordinary — maybe, even, an extraordinary — life.
The DP taught me how deeply fulfilling it can be to devote yourself to something important, even without the dangling carrot of external validation from grades and other “objective” measures of success we obsess over on this campus.
I didn’t know this was going to be the case, but my time on the 134th board of The Daily Pennsylvanian was without a doubt the worst year of my life. Or, more precisely, it coincided with the worst year of my life.
Now though, for what feels like the first time, I’m not dragging my feet. I’m ready, heck, I’m excited to move on because I feel like I took a mighty swing at this college thing.
As much as The Daily Pennsylvanian Editorial Board believes our Quaker peers are the brightest in the Ivy League, we don’t think we’re that much smarter, and we’d appreciate some more time off.
The process of reflecting was valuable in that it was a cognizant deliberation and analysis of my mentality and actions. It helped me break out of habit and identity my faults, my ways of responding to situations, and the methods I can take to improve my lifestyle. It also helped raise self-acceptance as I pinpointed victories that I’ve achieved through hard work and compassion.
I will always have to choose between pursuing my passions in the United States of America and being with my family. If I choose one, I can’t have the other.