Chrysalis: Spring Magazine

Editor’s Note

Dear readers:

Spring is a season of change. Flowers and cherry blossoms bloom across campus, and so, too, do we through our four years at Hopkins.

In this edition, our writers reflect on the idea of growth. Within these pages are hopes for the future, gratitude for the past, moments of difficulty and of triumph. “Chrysalis” celebrates authenticity — both who we are and who we are shaping up to be. We follow spring in three stages: “Incubation,” for the time that comes before growth; “Becoming,” for moments of reflection along the journey; and, finally, “Evolution,” named for celebrations of life thus far.

As you turn through these pages, we invite you to explore this idea of change and the many shapes it can take on. May this issue encourage you to embrace your own transformation and becoming.

Warmly,

Yana Mulani and Kaitlin Tan Magazine Editors, 24-25

Table

INCUBATION

BECOMING

Learning about what “growing” means to me Linda Huang

I want to start by opening up about two weaknesses of mine that I am actively working on: one, being more confident in making decisions and two, speaking up I have always been someone who views situations from many perhaps too many angles and perspectives. It may sound like a strength, but oftentimes I struggle to present my ideas clearly and feel intimidated when approaching a person of authority, such as a principal investigator

But maybe my ideas aren’t stupid and unrealistic Maybe I can bring something of value to the table Maybe I also have the ability to design an experiment starting from the ground up. Maybe I can ask more questions to help formulate my thoughts I want to push myself to trust my instincts more, step into conversations and grow into the person I want to be a person who is willing to take up space rather than shy away from it

I have learned over time that acknowledging weaknesses is equivalent to admitting failure, and that if I could camouflage them, they would eventually fade into the background But avoidance only magnifies my insecurities. The hesitation, the second-guessing, the fear of being wrong these don’t just disappear when I choose to ignore them Instead, they subtly shape how I view myself and interact with others I realize now that facing weaknesses head-on is the only way to truly grow

I find everything about decision-making very daunting. I overanalyze everything, whether it’s choosing between deciding what to say in an email, figuring out which food to order on the menu or what color of clothing to buy. I scan through every possibility, weighing the pros and cons I consult my friends, family, Google or even ChatGPT But each of these steps can and often do lead me to simply look for a way out and ultimately back down from deciding anything. In creative assignments such as design, hesitation can be costly If I take too long to commit to an idea, I lose time that could have been spent testing and refining. I’ve been working on trusting my instincts recently Instead of fearing that all of my choices will be wrong, I try to view them as opportunities to pivot and improve At the end of the day, who cares if you make a wrong decision once?

Speaking up is another challenge for me In team meetings, sometimes I rehearse my thoughts multiple times in my head before aying anything, only to find that the team has already moved on It’s

frustrating to feel like I have something valuable to say but cannot muster the courage to actually say it I think it could be said that this hesitation of mine does not stem from a lack of confidence in my ideas, but from not wanting to sound unprepared.

But no one expects each idea to be a perfect one; I’m still learning to grasp that mindset. I’m learning that my voice doesn’t have to be polished to be worth hearing When I hesitate, it’s not because others are stopping me; it’s because I am stopping myself I assume people will judge my ideas very harshly, but often, they are much more encouraging than I expect them to be And, even if I embarrass myself a little, it’s not the catastrophe I imagine in my head People move on; I move on.

I want to be able to recognize that these weaknesses just need balance, and I am learning how to control them deliberately. In my sociology class, I try to raise my hand at least once, even if it’s just a clarifying question When making decisions, I set a deadline for myself so I don’t get stuck in endless loops of overthinking. Rather than view my weaknesses as hurdles, I have begun to view these areas as points for improvement They are aspects of myself that I can work on. And, in the process, I am slowly building the confidence to trust my voice, trust my decisions and trust that I belong in the spaces I occupy

So, I will continue pushing myself and stepping into conversations even when it feels uncomfortable I will continue making decisions with the mindset that not every choice has to be perfect. And, to all the readers, I hope you can grow with me I’m sure we will all grow into who we aspire to be!

Linda Huang is a freshman from Rockville, MD majoring in Biomedical Engineering

Picking up my broken pieces

Myra Saeed

“I

tried to do everything right ”

I choked those words out between sobs, shaking with the weight of another breakdown, curling my body on my unmade bed

I thought I’d done everything I was supposed to I’d worked tirelessly in high school, earned my place at Hopkins, joined a handful of student organizations, said “ yes ” to every orientation event that came my way I texted my mom, FaceTimed my long-distance boyfriend and put in the effort to stay connected

At first, it seemed like things were falling into place

I was friendly with the people around me. I understood my lectures My boyfriend and I, while desperately aching from the distance, reassured each other with compassion and endearment regularly. I laughed, I smiled and I did my best to make this new life feel like home

But, despite how hard I tried to deny it, cracks were forming within me

I sat alone in lectures filled with hundreds. I floated through conversations, feeling my energy drain from forcing connections I spent endless hours drowning in assignments, hunched over a desk in Brody from 12 until 5 p.m. with only a pathetic to-go box with a slice of pepperoni pizza and two french fries The hum of other students around me, only amplified my solitude Friendship and optimism, once effortless, felt elusive and foreign. My fresh start morphed into a dull and heavy weight

Nighttimes transitioned from rose masks and diffusers into feeling as though my walls were closing in I regularly fought with my mom about my silence an ostensible indicator of my supposedly prioritizing others over her or about drifting from religious values as I wore dresses deemed too short My high school friends, the ones I had danced with throughout senior year, began to question my love for them as our calls grew infrequent and messages went unread.

Even my boyfriend and I, who had once shared sweet “I love you ” s and longing stares, spiraled into exhausting arguments about our relationship, our priorities and our future Our relationship, once

inseperable in heart and mind, led to nights ending in tearful whispers, and mornings beginning with these same emotions, only in the shape of swollen eyes and racing hearts

Kindness did find me through my suitemates’ leaving me with flowers, chocolates and laughter; my boyfriend supporting my nerves and desire for company; and a special pigeon, my little Pidgey friend with prominent pink claws, greeting me on my walks to Hodson Hall at 8:57 a m (if, by some miracle, you can read and comprehend this: Pidgey, I miss you)

But none of it changed the truth: I hated Hopkins I hated waking up I hated that damned hill I climbed every morning to start a lonely day full of work I resented, all to go back home and fight and argue and just lose myself

I lost my passion for reading, for writing, for learning my very love for life that had once defined me College had become my worst nightmare After a disastrous Calculus III final ending my fall semester, I sat silently on the train, numb. Tears welled and fell, as if mourning the version of myself I had once carried so proudly into Hopkins

Navigating freshman year

Myra Saeed

I didn’t transform into some radiant, flourishing version of myself, the spring flower I dreamed of

But I am picking up the pieces of my younger self.

sts, ted by nic the ing

ples

do but, now, we approached our differences with patience and understanding, choosing to value the love and trust that anchored us I began reconnecting with my high school friends through small check-ins little hellos, brief updates, tiny reminders that our bond still holds My weekends have grown rich with laughter My afternoons, soothed by the warmth of tea. And my meals, no longer taken alone.

And most importantly, I started smiling more again

Life still overwhelms me, threatening to tip me off my balance

Some days, I still feel like I’m drifting, unsure of my place at Hopkins, even in this world. The doubts often creep in: Am I truly capable of finishing this degree? Of being with the people I am fond of? Of making something of myself?

But amidst it all, I am happier. Maybe not completely. Maybe not always But relatively happier I am finding my way through early adulthood, navig ating the chaos of lectures, midter ms and friendships. I planted seeds, and, now finally small sprouts are breaking through the soil

The version of me that arrived at Hopkins may never return. But maybe she was meant to be broken Maybe this is how I grow I am learning, and I am rebuilding

Myra Saeed is a freshman from Great Neck, N.Y. majoring in Biophysics and History. She is a News & Features Editor for The News-Letter.

Pictured is Pidg ey Friend, one of Myra’s lanter ns during fall semester’s seemingly endless night.

Stages of growth Harmony Liu

Growth is a complicated thing

We often think about it in a positive lens, like shedding our old skin to reveal something beautiful beneath it Growth can be finding your fashion style, pushing yourself to start a new hobby or learning to love a part of yourself you ’ ve hated But, it can also be letting go of a friend, giving up on something you no longer enjoy or picking up a bad habit. We are always changing positively or negatively and I think part of growth is accepting both the good and bad and knowing that there is always more evolution awaiting us

Recently, I’ve realized that, for me, acknowledging growth has two stages: The first is where you look back on yourself and are embarrassed by what you see, and the second is where you grow past that embarrassment and feel only nostalgia about the person you used to be

I come to this conclusion on a random Tuesday night, when I start scrolling through the depths of my camera roll 13,000 pictures and counting in my effort to avoid the homework I desperately did not want to complete I start in the present day, scanning the memories still fresh in my mind I smile at pictures of friends from our recent group trip and think of what I wanted to do with them next weekend I see a picture of food I ate at a restaurant lately and make a note to return some day soon I see a picture of myself that I don’t like and delete it without a second thought.

something to be proud of No matter how embarrassed I am of these pictures, I won’t dare delete any of them now; they are evidence that growth has occurred

If I keep scrolling, I will soon reach my middle school years. Here, the pictures of myself disappear entirely and are replaced by an aggressive amount of photos and videos of everything else in my life (I used to capture the world around me like I was trying to make a stop-motion, animation film) My middle school self didn’t leave me anything to be embarrassed about because of how insecure and embarrassed she already was back then.

Soon enough, I scrolled all the way back to my early high school years. My hair is parted an inch further to the left, and I am wearing clothes that I won’t even think of buying now There are bad attempts at makeup and videos of me dancing on stage Looking at these pictures is like biting into a lemon; my face scrunches up, and I think, Why did I do that?

I don’t know how past-me walked out of the house looking like that or stepped on stage with those subpar moves, but current-me is mortified and, honestly, sort of impressed This embarrassment, however unpleasant, is how I know I’ve grown past these high school years It’s how I know that I am more comfortable in my body to wear the clothes I’ve always wanted to and how I know my passion for dance has thrived and improved exponentially in college. It’s how I know that I prefer the person I am today, and I think that is

I don’t feel any shame when I find the few pictures I do have of my younger self; I only look at my baby-face and messy ponytail and awkward smile and wish there was more for me to reminisce on. I have reached the second stage of growth with my middle school self, and I only feel nostalgic about both the good and bad I miss the friends I had and wish we didn’t grow apart. I miss the Latin dance studio I used to go to and wish I still took lessons I miss being able to play the guzheng as well as I did then Most of all, I wish I had left my current and future self more to miss, and that is how I know I have grown to love myself more

In high school, I grew past cowering away from the camera, which will leave present-me plenty to reminisce on once I manage to move to the second stage of growth And, maybe one day, I will look back at my current present and be embarrassed by what I see, but I’ll know that, further down the line, I will grow past that and cherish who I used to be

How I recharge Julia Schager

Despite being the shortest month in the Gregorian Calendar, February the month of love and Punxsutawney Phil can feel endless As someone from the Northeast, I’m used to the cold However, the grey slush barricading the Baltimore roadways is not a very welcome change. The winter Sunday is a short, dark blip marketed as a day of rest in the vein of the long-standing religious tradition observed by people across the world: the Sabbath

The Sabbath is a time of rest and spiritual reflection, usually observed through attending service, prayer, the reading of sacred texts and spending time engaging with the community. Over the past century, the Sabbath has become increasingly secular in the U S , providing a built-in opportunity for both government and private workers to flip over the “OPEN” sign, turn off their morning alarms and watch cable television

For many others, Sunday no longer symbolizes a day of rest. You might be wondering why observing the Sabbath should go beyond the traditions established in our social sphere Despite the temporary shutdowns, it is not likely that you’ll find a Hopkins student, faculty member or anyone outside Homewood truly resting on Sunday This is understandable for most of us, of course: between internships, coursework, extracurriculars and finally doing laundry, emailing and clenching your jaw before buying a week’s worth of groceries it’s difficult to find time to truly rest and reflect

Social media casts an interesting light on Sunday and on rest

Minutes-long videos during which people take audiences through their routines often clarifying the demographic group they fit into, such as “Weekend in the life of a working mom of three” have become increasingly prevalent as influencers attempt to garner jealousy and congratulations in order to boost their own platforms. These videos are the antithesis of the Sabbath. What was once commonly considered a treasured time for bonding, introspection and self-improvement now feels performative, restrictive and often just as tiring as the work week

Re-embracing the traditional purpose of the Sabbath has been incredibly beneficial in my life I wake up when the sun comes through my window, stretch and write, fighting the urge to put on my headphones, start my work or get in touch with my friends before I’ve had the chance to sit with myself and feel the day begin

I slowly make my bed while my mini-Keurig brews my morning coffee (a habit I haven’t quite been able to cut), open my Google Calendar and plan my schedule for the week I close my laptop soon after and finish the book I’ve been reading since winter break I walk to the market to treat myself with fresh fruit in lieu of dining hall

melon When I return, I watch Little Women and copy economics graphs for my upcoming exam, developing mnemonics that even Alan Turing would have a tough time decoding.

When I’ve done enough, I steal my neighbor’s vacuum and clean my room before picking up my guitar. I grumble about how much I miss my Les Paul electric guitar before reminding myself my roommate likely wouldn’t appreciate it if I practiced hooked up to an amplifier. I’m no Joni Mitchell (neither is anyone else, for that matter), but adhering to the Sabbath means embracing shamelessness and alleviating oneself of internal pressure, something that has allowed me to improve through calm consistency.

I look at my phone quickly and discover my childhood best friend has instructed me to check my mailbox. I find a small painting with a note attached, which I don’t hesitate to pin to my wall just above my desk I promised some friends that I would go to yoga with them; I’ve never done yoga before and I’m sure I won’t continue but it won’t hurt to get active movement in on my day of rest, and I want to spend time with them We grab sushi and eat it while sitting on the tiny rug in my cramped dorm for way longer than the sushi lasts.

When they’re gone, I take a long shower, then call my parents while I wait for my hair to dry. They tell me about their week, turning the camera around periodically to show me the cats I tried to take with me in my suitcase when I first moved out I fold back my comforter and get inside my bed, reading the last chapter of my book and logging it on Goodreads

When I wake up in the morning, Monday is still Monday, and February is still too cold for comfort Still, the Sabbath doesn’t feel like a brief respite within a week of unpreparedness and anxiety; instead, it feels like I’ve honored my personal time by seeking comfort, quiet and growth

Julia Schager is a freshman from Stamford, Conn studying International Studies.

Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable

Yana Mulani

I was around ten when I first heard the phrase “comfort zone ” It was uttered by my favorite YouTuber at the time in her Monthly Favorites video, and I decided that I wanted to build up my comfort zone now, at 21, I think I’ve done too good of a job

While I don’t regret making my comfort zone so comfortable it was necessary for my quiet, shy kid-self I do know that it’s hindered growth. Though I’ve not let concerns around comfort make the big decisions for me moving across the world to go to university, being one of them I do occasionally let it guide the small decisions.

It’s only recently that I’ve been able to pinpoint that the moments where I’ve been challenged, questioned and dealt with difficulty have been the moments in which I have actively grown It doesn’t feel like it in the moment; it often feels scary and, you guessed it, uncomfortable, but with each scary and uncomfortable moment, you’re a little closer to the eventual non-intimidating, comfortable moments

I really, truly, struggled with public speaking when I was younger or public anything, rather But now I’m a senior who spent her junior year leading weekly general meetings at The News-Letter as Co-Editor in Chief, definitely pissing off my coworkers with how much I rambled on about communication, communication, communication!

It took practice Everyone says it, but it’s true And practice isn’t linear I think of growth, such as building a skill like public speaking, as the rungs of a ladder except not each rung is evenly spaced Though with every try, you move up one rung, the first five, ten or even 20 rungs will be really close together; in these first tries, it won’t feel like you’re making much progress But, as you continue to ascend, each successive rung becomes a little further away and the next one even more you’re starting to make progress. By the 100th rung, once you ’ ve climbed even the most uncomfortable, seemingly out-of-reach rung, you’ll realize how far you ’ ve come

By my final time leading our general meeting, I realized how far I’d come not just from my very first meeting, but also from where I was as a child. The little girl scared to sing a bhajan in front of her friends and teachers had evolved into a woman who could confidently address a roomful of her peers at a top US university

But, this article isn’t about public speaking It’s about the fact that every time I was forced to speak up as a child, I hated it. It’s about the fact that I did it anyway and the fact that I grew from it little, tiny bits of growth, but growth nonetheless It’s about learning that stepping outside of your comfort zone may challenge you, question you and make life just a little more difficult but that’s the only place you’ll find growth

So, as uncomfortable as it is being uncomfortable, it’s time that I get comfortable with it

Instead of letting the books I order for collection at the MSE Annex stack up, I’ve started walking over for individual books, one at a time

To others this may not seem like a lot, but for me, someone who hates the cold with every fiber of her being and takes every possible precaution to avoid it, this is a big deal (And I’m currently writing my senior thesis, so I’ve just committed myself to quite a few trips here.)

I’m also promising myself that I’ll work harder at responding to the text messages that I want to avoid. Like I said, it’s the little things that I’ve let comfort take the lead on But now, I’m choosing discomfort, on purpose I’m choosing growth

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online

Yana Mulani is a senior from Dubai, U A E majoring in Economics, English and International Studies She is a Magazine Editor and a previous Editor-in-Chief for The News-Letter

COURTESY OF ARANTZA GARCIA

From a retired doomscroller: on breaking unhealthy habits

Buse Koldas

As a healed doomscroller, I don’t remember when exactly I became addicted, but I do recall why

Like many, I was an avid reader in my childhood years. Reading was an activity to heal my boredom; it allowed me to dissociate, and I still recall times when I read for so long that I felt dumbfounded when I came back to reality.

As school got harder and I grew more aware of the world along with the problems, tensions and aggressions that surrounded me I felt my motivation to read shrink Instead of delving into the world the book was inviting me to, I was orbiting my worries and anxieties, and, at that point, reading a book felt like too much.

This was when I acknowledged how much effort I required to focus on a single piece of paper, which I’d never felt before. At times like this, watching short cartoon episodes from Phineas and Ferb or joining my dad in watching an action movie felt easier

Later, I became a middle schooler, and my parents decided that it was time for my first phone Getting a cellphone with access to Instagram and Musical.ly was revolutionary; it brought the television from the living room to wherever I was Even better, I no longer had to challenge my attention span and could exhaust my little brain even less with 15- to 60-second videos where people danced to Renegade or lip-synced to Hit the Quan

So, I looked forward to coming back home to grab my phone, lay sideways on the sofa and scroll Scroll Like Scroll Scroll Scroll Like Screenshot Share to Snapchat Scroll

While I kept using doomscrolling as an escape mechanism for any type of work I even slightly didn’t feel like doing, I found myself taking 25-minute-long breaks for every five minutes I spent doing work (is this still considered Pomodoro?) Whenever I checked my screen time, I was confronted by all the time I threw away With those hours wasted on meaningless apps, I not only missed out on opportunities to do work but also felt my ability to focus deteriorate I still think about how many more books I could have read, movies I could have watched and assignments I could have spent more effort on if and only if I had never downloaded these apps

Two months ago, I decided that I had enough.

met with a question instead: Is this a good time?

The first few times this happened, I lifted my head from the screen and checked where I was In a lecture hall in the middle of class Right across a friend whom I hadn’t seen in months. At the dinner table with my parents On the sofa sitting next to my grandma drinking tea Walking my dog No, this was not a good time

While I expected myself to use these apps to the limit, this was not the case at all; I felt the need to log into these apps less and less every day. I just checked and found out that I used Instagram for a total of 16 minutes yesterday (for TikTok, only 5 minutes)

Today is the 64th day I haven’t spent doomscrolling, and, if I hadn’t decided to break this unhealthy habit two months ago, I would have lost around 420 hours to meaningless scrolling With these 420 hours, I engaged with my studies to the fullest, performed critical reading with no distractions, took the best naps, prepared the desserts on my to-bake list, had long gratitude walks and connected with people

If you feel like you lose control while scrolling and can’t get past the desire to “watch one more video,” please take my advice and limit your screen time by utilizing an app, like I have, if necessary. I promise you that you can do so much more with those hours

This article is abridged in print and the complete version can be found online

Buse Koldas is a sophomore from Istanbul, Turkey majoring in Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering She is the Voices Editor for The News-Letter

COURTESY OF JIYUN GUO

Set, slay, repeat Ruben Diaz

Let’s be honest goal-setting sounds amazing in theory Every January, millions of people, including me, sit down with fresh enthusiasm, ready to finally get their life together. This is it, we tell ourselves This is the year I wake up at 5 a m , read 52 books, get ripped, find inner peace and maybe even learn French And for a solid week (if we're lucky), we actually do it. We power through a few early mornings, sweat through a couple of gym sessions and nod along to the Duoling o owl ag g ressively reminding us not to break our streak.

Then, inevitably, life happens The motivation fizzles out The gym membership collects dust. The French lessons fade into oblivion. By mid-February, our ambitious resolutions are tossed into the same dark abyss as our childhood dreams of becoming an astronaut or a pop star.

So, what gives? Why do our goals keep flopping harder than a bad first date? And more importantly, how do we actually make them work?

Welcome to the real guide to goal setting, where we break down the science, psychology and pure chaos behind why we fail and how to set goals that actually stick

Step 1: Ditch the motivation myth

Most people think the key to achieving goals is motivation. It’s not. Motivation is a flaky friend who hypes you up at 2 a m and then vanishes when you actually need them the next morning Here’s the truth: Motivation doesn’t last, but habits do.

Think about brushing your teeth You don’t wake up every day wildly inspired to maintain optimal oral hygiene. You do it because it’s a habit You’ve been doing it for so long that not brushing your teeth would feel weird That’s exactly how goals should work The trick isn’t to wait for motivation to strike it’s to set up a system that keeps you going when motivation inevitably bails on you

Instead of saying, I want to work out more, set a rule like I will put on my gym clothes every morning, even if I don’t feel like going Nine times out of ten, once you’re in those gym clothes, you’ll end up going (And if not, at least you look sporty.)

Step 2: Be more specific than a job interview question

Let’s play a quick game: Which goal sounds more achievable?

I want to get good grades this semester

I will study for my psychology class for one hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the library

If you picked the second one, congratulations! You understand that vague goals are the enemy of success When goals are too broad, they’re easy to ignore. When they’re concrete, they feel real. Psychologists call this the SMART goal framework

Specific: Make it clear (“Study psychology for one hour” vs. “Study more”)

Measurable: Track progress (“Run a 5K in under 30 minutes” vs “Run more”).

Achievable: Set something reasonable (“Read 10 pages a day” vs “Read 100 books this year”)

Relevant: Make sure it aligns with your actual priorities (“Save $50 a month” vs “Become a millionaire overnight”)

Time-bound: Give yourself a deadline (“Write a rough draft by Friday” vs. “Write a novel someday”).

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online Ruben Diaz is a freshman from Miami, Fla studying Molecular and Cellular Biology and Psychology

Cultivating joy: The art of “conditioning” our brains to feel happy

Shreya Tiwari

Every human lives life aiming to be happy. We pursue jobs, careers, money, friendships and relationships looking for joy

We yearn for stability and consistency, a permanent state of calmness and joy. Our brains are wired to hunt for dopamine a hormone that plays a role in memory, memory, pleasurable reward and motivation Research has kept up with this innate human search for dopamine: Psychology and neuroscience have started looking for the neurobiological basis for contentment

If you spend enough time on the inter net, you ’ll see some of the “tr icks” that r esear cher s have touted as the “best” wa ys to tr ain the br ain into positivity; ex er cise, a nutr itious diet, mindfulness and meditation ar e some of the most popular ly adver tised But her e, I hope to shar e some ways to find joy that ar e less conventionally adver tised They ar en ’t all simple fix es, and they ar en ’t all aesthetically pleasing, but they, too, foster genuine happiness

Embracing discomfort and building resilience A

Finding time for play

Adulthood and college life are defined by structure, schedules and appointments. Even the events that are supposed to be “fun” are often social obligations above anything else It is difficult to find time for true play and relaxation, both of which are often seen as wastes of time. But in reality, play is a complex process that engages multiple brain regions, promoting connectivity of neural networks Play releases neurotransmitters such as dopamine and, in particular, involves the prefrontal cortex, strengthening the part of our brains involved in problem-solving and decision-making It stimulates the growth of new neurons in the hippocampus It reduces cortisol levels and promotes the release of endorphins, creating feelings of wellbeing The role of play is wholly underrated; activities as simple as taking time out of one ’ s day to color, draw, build some Legos,

play video games or play sports are immeasurably powerful in reshaping how we think and how happy we feel overall

Taking some time for quiet

So many of the “strategies” we’re given to pursue happiness are active walking, exercise, play, discomfort It seems as though the only way to condition ourselves into feeling happy or content is by actively pursuing it But that isn’t always the case

In a world of noise where something new happens every day, finding a moment of stillness is undeniably important, albeit almost impossible to find In a neurobiological sense, solitude and silence are associated with the growth of new functioning neurons in the hippocampus Many suggest meditation or walks, but this silence doesn’t necessarily need to be reflective or mindful. Simply stepping away from all stimuli and experiencing what's going on around us can be enough For me, this looks like sitting down after an assignment with no headphones on and no electronics nearby, just staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to clear my mind entirely

g j y g g p

reshaping our minds and behaviors We can train ourselves to find happiness in unexpected places Joy is dynamic; it is not something that we stumble upon by accident but, rather, something we can build intentionally in our day-to-day lives

Shreya Tiwari is a sophomore from Austin, Texas studying Biomedical Engineering. She is a Science and Technology Editor for The News-Letter.

Princess, doctor or author

Kaylee Nguyen

I used to think that I had my entire life planned out laid before me as if it were a map and I was a pirate in search of gold; I would feel my finger swiftly trace the path in front of me I always knew that I wanted to be a princess Golden castles, sparkling gowns and a kingdom that adored me. What more could a little girl want?

But my dream wasn’t just about jeweled crowns and shimmering tiaras. No; I wanted to be the kind of princess that cared for my people like my favorites: Mulan and Jasmine I would imagine wandering through the halls of my castle and diligently partaking in royal meetings with countless advisors to make sure that no one in my kingdom ever suffered I would be wise, kind, beautiful and generous: the sort of ruler every fairy tale promised

However, as I grew older, my vision of becoming a princess evolved as a 10-year-old me contemplated my awful luck of not being born into a royal family Somewhere along the path of growing up, I realized that real-life royalty didn’t quite work in the way I had envisioned. But I still grasped the idea of helping people, I just needed a new way to do it

That’s when I discovered my love for science. In the beginning, medicine felt like its own kind of magic Instead of wandering through enchantments and spells, I found myself lost among formulas and theories. If I couldn’t be a princess who ruled over a kingdom, maybe I could be a doctor who ruled over disease

I threw myself into this new dream with the same fervor I had once reserved for tiaras and fairy tales I devoured books about anatomy and medicine, watched documentaries about surgeons performing

life-saving procedures, was inspired by Dr Strange’s obsession with neuroscience and proudly announced to anyone who would listen that I would be a doctor when I grew up. In my mind, it made sense I wanted to help people, and what better way to do that than by treating them?

That was until my love for stories began to bubble up once more I always loved how they had the power to make people feel There was always something magical about the way that worlds could be created from nothing and how lives could be manifested from ink on paper I was obsessed with how narratives were able to connect, understand and heal in ways that even science wasn’t able to.

For a long time, I had always thought that medicine was the perfectly cobbled path laid in front of me. That to love medicine was to sacrifice every bit of my passion for the humanities But the more I tried to push aside my love for stories, the more my books would scream my name. Soon, I found myself scribbling short stories in the margins of my chemistry notebooks during lectures and crafting intricate narratives about the people behind the medical cases that I studied.

Confronting this part of my identity was terrifying For my whole life, I always thought that I needed to walk an unbent path But now? I have realized that I no longer want to leave behind one dream for another I want to find a way to love both science and stories in a way that will allow me to help others.

Perhaps this means that I can write about science to make it more accessible to the world. Perhaps it means that I must use storytelling to educate, inspire and change lives in a way that medicine wouldn’t be able to Perhaps I will have to find a completely new way to combine the two subjects that I love the most. While I don’t know what the future may hold, I do know that my journey will never be a straight path But if there is one element that has, and will, never change about my story, it’s that I will never stop wanting to help others More than any title (whether it’s princess, doctor or author), that is what defines who I am

This article is abridged in print and the complete version can be found online.

Kaylee Nguyen is a freshman from Pensacola, Fla studying Molecular & Cellular Biology and Writing Seminars

Thoughts from a philosophy major: A letter to my future self

Leo Lin

Hi Leo,

It’s Leo from the past

I just had some of the driest chicken of my life at Hopkins Cafe, and now I’m in the overcrowded Brody Reading Room having just spent 30 minutes playing Brawl Stars instead of studying Classic

Looking at the endless construction outside, I can’t help but think: Dang it They should refund part of my tuition for this

At this point, the initial: Wow I’m at Johns Hopkins! has evolved into Wow I’m at Johns Hopkins Now what?

Studying philosophy here has been interesting Every time someone asks about my major, I smirk like a magician revealing their final trick: “I study philosophy.” People look at me like I just said I moonlight as a medieval alchemist: equal parts impressed, confused and wondering if I’ll ever make money

They say if you’re confused about life, look at the people around you Lately, that advice has been hitting too close to home, especially with so many of my friends diving into finance. Investment banking seems to be the holy grail: Everyone’s either talking about it, chasing it or mysteriously “grinding” for it

I recently interviewed for an investment banking internship and spoke with the CEO of a financial consulting firm. He asked about my interests I told him I liked thinking about God and whether God is real because, you know, that’s a totally normal thing to say in a finance interview.

Turns out, he was a Christian We ended up talking for 40 minutes At one point, he told me he sometimes wakes up from nightmares about dying, standing before God and realizing he hadn’t accomplished anything meaningful

Then, he hit me with: “You’re only happy about your investment banking job the first day you get your offer ”

Wow That’s like hearing a magician tell you the trick isn’t real while they’re still on stage

And that conversation stuck with me Because if he a guy who already made it was haunted by these thoughts, what hope did I have?

I studied philosophy to find meaning But deep down, I’ve always had this quiet fear: what if I never find an answer? What if I spend my life chasing abstract principles and end up with nothing concrete? And if God isn’t real, then let’s be honest: spending my life searching for a nonexistent being in the sky would be kind of hilarious Maybe I should’ve just been an investment banker At least their illusions pay well

But seriously, what is the point of all this? Everyone around me is sprinting toward something: a high-paying job, a prestigious title, a LinkedIn flex. But for what?

And then there’s me, sitting in Brody Cafe, staring at my philosophy notes, asking questions that don’t have clear answers. Is that enough?

I used to think meaning was something you just found, like a treasure at the end of some long, arduous quest. It was either “God gave you meaning ” or “being a rational being and following reason gives you meaning ” But what if neither of these is true?

What if meaning isn’t something waiting to be discovered, but something we create? Maybe life isn’t about uncovering some grand, universal truth, but about choosing what matters to us defining our own purpose instead of waiting for someone else to hand it to us Like Albert Camus would say, when confronted with the absurd the realization that life has no inherent meaning the best thing to do is to embrace it; rebel against it by moving on

So, future me: Did we figure it out? Did we find something worth waking up for? Something that makes us feel alive, not just employed? Are we actually doing something meaningful, or did we just follow the current because it was easier?

I hope we didn’t settle I hope we kept questioning, kept pushing, kept searching, even when it was difficult and seemed endless at times I hope that if we truly find a purpose that purpose won’t be just about what we do but about who we become and the virtues we develop the kind of person we are when no one ’ s watching, the things we care about when there’s no audience to impress I really hope that’s the case, or the world would truly be as superficial as an investment banker’s “work-life balance”: a myth spoken about in hushed tones but never actually seen in the wild

And if we still don’t have all the answers, that’s okay too. Maybe the whole point is to keep looking, to never stop being curious, to never stop asking, What else is out there? Maybe it's the process of looking for purpose, although it might not exist, that gives you purpose.

Oh, and I also hope we ’ ve stopped eating from Hopkins Cafe

See you in the future

Leo Lin (from the past)

Leo Lin is a freshman from Xiamen, Fujian, China studying Philosophy and History

Finding love in the right places

Ayden Min

My first breaths were taken in the languid heat of a Los Angeles August morning. My mom tells me I was born with a head full of hair and that my birth was thankfully a lot easier than my older brother’s A home video exists on a clunky camcorder somewhere in our house that’s a close-up of my newborn face while my mom wiggles me into a soft white onesie

But if you’re looking for a swoon-worthy romance, Los Angeles is probably not the first place to go I guess you could say it’s “romantic” in a sense: Cherry-red sunsets lining cobalt waves are taken for granted and star-studded Hollywood lives just around the corner, but it’s not the place for an Audrey Hepburn kind of meet cute Especially not if you’re living on the cusp of the city, where I spent my adolescence shuffling between the pilling carpets on high school classroom floors and the chestnut hardwood panels of our house built in ‘60s suburbia

So I did what every young hopeless romantic does: I watched any and all romcoms I could get my peach-pink-tinged hands on; read chapters upon chapters of romance webcomics; discovered our lord and savior Jane Austen; and prayed to any god listening (who I didn’t really believe in, but desperate times call for desperate measures) that true love would find me someday. I dreamed it would come to me, steadfast yet unassuming Surely it would Surely it will

The air grew a bit warmer, and the ends of my hair lightened to a caramel brown under an egg-yolk sun, when the big things like college, swimming, career paths and this idea of “the future” gradually fattened in my basket of priorities and stressors. This dream of mine sat patiently in the corner, knees to her chest, twiddling her thumbs and waiting for her time to come once again She hugged her cramped corner in my jar of life, even though she really wanted to stretch her legs, jump around and feel the wind in her hair every once in a while But such is life when you’re convinced you only have the next four years to map out your entire existence.

I have always wanted nice things I want to live in a big city, in an apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and to be able to see the sunset from the comfort of my living room I want to own one of those heavy wool trench coats, a set of perfect-fit leather gloves and a sophisticated fragrance that I can call my own. I want to see as many live performances as I can, the world’s rarest paintings ten feet in front of me and the bustle of human life around me

These are all nice things I want And so I told myself that if I wanted these nice things as soon as possible, then my career comes first. There was no time for mistake or hesitation, let alone a single minute to lift my hopelessly romantic dream back to her feet and onto my timetable. Such was how I entered my first year of college.

I wish I could tell you that I had suddenly found someone and that my anxieties about the future disappeared. This is not the case, yet I have no ill feelings about it To live life is to feel its turbulent winds smoothly sailing with some and falling face first on others It is futile to say that I’ve reached a point in time where I know exactly where I’ll be 10, 20 years from now, and perhaps the only constant I have is the uncertainty of it all

But one thing that I do know is that every evening, I come back to a warmly-lit apartment with my two roommates, our Christmas stockings still hung up from the holiday season and just the right amount of mess that makes it a home And when we three girls share late-night ramen noodles straight from the pot, venting about our frustrations for hours straight, bonding over a mutual cuteness aggression toward our apartment cat and laughing at the horrible French accents in Bridgerton I know that love is there in those moments. Because in those moments, I’m just a girl, sitting with my two best friends, talking about everything and nothing at all; and yet, there’s no place I’d rather be

There is love around me, and most importantly, there is love in me

For the people around me, for the things I learn, for the people I have loved before and those I will come to love. For my family, born and found For a crisp breeze walking home, and for spontaneous chocolate chip pizookies with an exorbitant amount of leftover vanilla frosting.

At the end of it all, my dream will find me in due time But I have stopped dragging her everywhere before her time, and I must admit that things have felt much lighter, sprinkling my soul into different things every day And what a blessing it is, to hold what I already have, something so precious and kind.

This article is abridged in print and the complete version can be found online

Ayden Min is a sophomore from Los Angeles, Calif majoring in International Studies She is a Copy Editor for The News-Letter

A letter to my past self Kaitlin Tan

Dear Kaitlin,

Let’s start small: I’m sitting at my desk in Baltimore It’s piled full of books I’ve been reading for classes: stacks of novellas and chapbooks, a linguistics textbook, and a handful of children’s books. Beside me is an oven-safe ceramic; within it sits a raw, frozen chocolate croissant, ready to thaw and rise while I sleep There’s a picture hanging on the far side of my desk my roommates and I at an escape room.

On the wall, I’ve made a little collage: images of home at dusk; pages of old books stamped with leaf prints from Etsy; and a Rumi quote from Ms Marina, your middle school arts teacher, that reads: “Respond to every call that excites your spirit ” There’s also that little card you found on a beach trip with mom, on it, a line from Paulo Coelho: “One is loved because one is loved / No reason is needed for loving ” I’ve tried to arrange it so that these prints look like they’re falling from one corner of the ceiling down the white wall.

Hanging up there, I also have a small postcard of a cobbled street in Trastevere, Rome (yes, you go to Italy; yes, it’s better than you can imagine, but not for the reasons you think) A lighthouse in Delaware, too gifted from my freshman year roommate (you’re going to have a great time living together). There’s more memorabilia, but I’ll leave it to you to find the rest

This past week has not been easy. I’ve been more tired than not, but I’ve done my best to keep hopeful a skill I owe to you After a series of long days, I have finally done my groceries I roasted chicken and potatoes for lunch today and finished my readings in time for a respectable amount of rest In doing so, I’m breaking my downward trajectory and trying, for the umpteenth time, to build better habits The reason I mention this, the reason I want you to see not the whole path ahead but this one evening, is because I need you to remember that there will be many endings; some will be small, some larger It is not about what has happened, but what happens after – how you start again

Sometimes, when I wonder what I’m doing and why, I remember your love for story You’d dissolve into books, then music, shows and movies A narrative was a life that mattered simply because someone said it did. Stories felt miraculous in how conflicts found

resolution, characters experienced growth, meaning was always made Fiction, you taught me, is an assertion of life.

I’ve written poems for you As you know, you did not write poetry for a very long time. I’ve tried to find some of the words I think you would’ve liked to hear, but most fall short

I can say that I remember what it was like to be you, but in truth I remember only half of it I reach backward to the feeling of drowning and I stop But it doesn’t take recollection for me to remember your grit. It’s the task of a lifetime to learn to hope, and you are doing it. By simply being here, you are doing it You’re holding more than anyone could possibly carry and, eventually, you will learn to put some of it down.

There’s a lot you have yet to experience, and know that much of it is good. Push for one day, and then another, and another and soon, those days will become a lifetime Know that I am proud to have come from you

Inspired by one of mom’s many musical recommendations, I’ve fallen down a bit of a nineties R&B rabbit hole tonight SWV’s “Rain” is playing through one earbud. I can hear my housemate washing her dishes in the kitchen I’ll read a book tonight, something I haven’t been assigned Tomorrow, I’ll get an early start, eat my chocolate croissant, make myself a chai latte and write something.

Take good care of yourself

With love, Kaitlin

Kaitlin Tan is a junior from Manila, Philippines majoring in Writing Seminars and Cognitive Science She is a Magazine Editor for The News-Letter

Me as a child versus me today

Samhi Boppana

When I look back at child-me, it’s easy to see what has changed I’ve gotten taller, older and less clumsy (arguably) My hobbies have shifted from playing with Barbies and American Girl Dolls to reading, watching movies and exploring new restaurants I’m not as picky of an eater anymore and have expanded my palette to different cuisines and foods I would’ve previously shunned. I no longer live in Ohio with my parents, but rather, six hours away by car I’m not scared of flights and traveling alone Even though it is not my favorite, I feel comfortable speaking to a room full of people.

As a child, I would best describe myself as energetic, happy and chatty. I had boundless energy and enjoyed my interests (at the time, watching Scooby Doo and reading The Magic Tree House) completely I loved to talk to new people and make friends, and I was confident in myself.

In middle school and high school, that changed: Those hallmark selfesteem issues of the teenage years made their mark. I spent a lot of time worrying about whether I would fit in or get good grades Entering into new social settings made me stressed out and as high school progressed into college, my hobbies and interests dimmed with the intensity of school and volunteering and applications

Now, at 22, that has changed. I’m not infallibly confident by any stretch, but I feel settled into who I am as a person, proud of my accomplishments and optimistic about my future growth Maybe it’s just the frontal lobe developing as I veer toward 25 (seriously, when

did that happen?), but I am secure in who I am and what I am capable of to an extent now that middle school me couldn’t imagine

I can’t help but wonder if my confidence now is because I’ve finally made Hopkins and my life at college feel like a “home” and a comfortable space for me While I’m sure having put down roots in Baltimore through friends and communities is a part of it, I can’t help but feel like it is also me on a deeper level who has changed and not just from acclimating to my surroundings

Some things have also changed hues and tones, but remain the same color as they used to be I still talk to my parents and sister everyday as if I was still living at home in Ohio with them, except it is by phone or FaceTime instead of in person My four best friends from third grade are still four of my closest friends now and our friendship hasn’t wavered. Instead of living next door and bike riding to the park, we now live across the country and visit each other in our respective cities

Your early 20s and specifically, post-grad years is arguably the time in your life when the most is changing: the places you are living, the jobs you have, the friends you have and your life experiences are in constant and unpredictable flux In this time of uncertainty, I find immense comfort in the traces of my childhood and younger me that persist.

With college winding down and graduation nearing, I’ve especially been reflecting on all the ways I have grown throughout my time at Hopkins and the ways I still have yet to We can all learn about ourselves from how we have grown and how we want to, but there’s also something very comforting about looking at what has stayed the same and how that past makes up the “ you ” of today

I am still the same person I was then. Even though I feel different, I’m still the same me, and there is something so rewarding about looking in the mirror and being able to simultaneously see the growth in yourself, and also the traces of your past that linger like an old friend

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online.

Samhi Boppana is from Columbus, Ohio. She is an Editor-in-Chief for The News-Letter.

If only you knew then, a letter to my childhood self

Janice Lin

Dear Janice,

After a bit of reflecting, here are some things I want to tell you

Do not lose your spark. Keep smiling. Ignore what people are telling you to do when your instinct says otherwise Soak in the California sun for the decade before you get dragged across the country to the East Coast. Soak it all in before the depression of the freezing cold weather, gloomy days and early sun-setting kicks in; before the seriousness of life, responsibilities and worries about college and your future start to trickle into your mind; and before the concerns of society’s opinion and beauty standards interfere with your own self worth Take a walk at the Stanford Dish Ride your bike at Seale Park Skip down those wide sidewalks without a care in the world.

Keep up your dedication to swimming You don’t have to swim competitively all your life, but try to find joy in it while you have the time It’s a grueling process, I know There are often early wake up calls for weekend meets, or late arrivals home from difficult practices Those are some small sacrifices to make you simply don’t know what true sleep deprivation looks like just yet Swimming provides a daily reset, equivalent to journaling or free therapy Wouldn’t you agree that it’s even quite fun in the rain? Yes, it is also so frustrating when there are thunderstorms, and the coaches keep you in the pool Finally, an extremely important note: do not forget to wear sunscreen I know the tan goes crazy, but protect yourself from the sun ’ s harmful UV rays

Take your time and do not grow up too fast. Live in the moment. Go work the lemonade stand even though you and your friends set it up on a not-so-busy street Go perform at the talent show with an original silly song you and your friends created during math class. Go enjoy the hot afternoons in the school farm even though your jet black hair absorbs all the heat Go attend all the school plays, particularly the Shakespearean ones that are performed on the playground, utilizing its dynamic stage

Continue to get to know people’s character. You will inevitably befriend and trust someone who eventually hurts you, and that is okay Sometimes people do not understand that what they say can cut deeply to the bone, or what they do can cross the line. It’s a part

of growing It’s a part of life You have to learn your lesson and move on. You can do your best to not make that mistake again, but sometimes people show up and betray you with different, but equally painful methods Learn from other people, but again, trust your gut It’s a delicate balance of trial and error. Try to be the best judge of character, but remember that no one always gets it right

Let go of things you have no control over. You’ll constantly wonder what’s ahead to prepare for it it’s like how you like to watch the same movies over and over again because you know the ending, or how you search up a TV show’s ending to prepare yourself. But life throws surprises at you and unexpected events occur, both good and bad You will be lucky sometimes Other times, you will be extremely unlucky, but bounce back. Again, learn what you need to learn and leave it in the past Dwelling too heavily on certain events will block your path forward, like a boulder that you cannot seem to push out of the way, and so you get stuck.

Best of luck Hopefully, this letter will not ruin the timeline

Sincerely,

Your older self

Janice Lin is a freshman from Scarsdale, N.Y. majoring in International Studies and Economics.

Making and becoming Resham Talwar

I grew up in New Delhi, India a city where summers blaze relentlessly, where the streets never sleep and where every corner hums with stories waiting to be told The scent of sizzling street food clings to the air, rickshaws weave through traffic in a chaotic dance and the pulse of the city is constant. Even as a child, if I had to describe my life in one word, it would’ve been eventful There was always something happening a festival transforming the skyline with bursts of color; an impromptu cricket game on the streets; a monsoon that turned the roads into rivers In this fast-moving world, I learned to adapt, to stand firm in the face of unpredictability and to dream of what lay beyond the narrow alleyways of my childhood.

For the longest time, I believed that home wasn’t a place it was family. No matter where I went, as long as my family was with me, I would be home But when I moved away for university, and then my family moved too, I began to realize that home was more than just the people I loved. Home had also been Delhi: the streets I walked every day; the sounds that made up my world; the way the city seemed to breathe alongside me and fuel me

Leaving wasn’t just about adjusting to a new place; it was about letting go of something I had always taken for granted The air felt different, the roads stretched impossibly wide, and for the first time, silence felt overwhelming No street vendors calling out, no neighbors chatting on their balconies, no festival drums echoing in the background At first, it felt like I had been uprooted, like a plant pulled from the soil where it had grown strong But over time, I began to see it differently not as uprooting, but as transplanting I wasn’t just being taken from one place to another; I was being given the opportunity to grow somewhere new

Change is inevitable, but growth is a choice and spring is proof of this It isn’t just a season of renewal, it is a season of action Plants don’t wait for the perfect moment; they push through the soil, determined to bloom. Flowers stretch towards the sunlight. What was once buried beneath the barren cold makes its way to the surface, and in doing so, it becomes something new

In many ways, I have felt the same shift within myself I could have resisted change, clung to the past and let nostalgia hold me back Instead, I chose to step forward, to shape my own narrative, to make something meaningful of the unfamiliar and very different chaos

I carried my roots with me, but I also allowed myself to plant new ones to embrace different cultures, to meet people whose perspectives challenged my own and to redefine what “home” meant

Even now, as I prepare to graduate, I find myself asking: Where is home now? It’s not only the city I left behind or the city I will probably leave behind now nor is it just the people who make me feel safe It’s the pieces I carry with me (The smell of spices in a kitchen far from Delhi, the warmth of friendships formed in a new land, the small rituals that make an unfamiliar place feel like mine.)

Home is not something you simply have it’s something you create, wherever you go, as you leave your footprints in the world

Where I started and where I am now are connected by moments of uncertainty, by choices made in the face of discomfort, by a willingness to adapt and act. It has taught me that transformation isn’t something that just happens to you: It is something you take part in, celebrate and no matter what you do, you don’t take it for granted You make choices and take actions, and you become new and evolved versions of yourself And in that process, you grow into something greater than you ever imagined

Resham Talwar is a senior from New Delhi, India majoring in Biomedical Engineering

The power to become Ruben Diaz

I think people spend too much time talking about who they want to be and not enough time talking about who they already are. It’s always about the next step; the next goal; the next milestone Nobody ever asks, “What’s your favorite thing about yourself today?” Like right now; in this moment. Not the person you’re hoping to become five years from now Not the polished, grown, fully developed version of you Just you, today

So I’ve been thinking about that About who I am, right now And honestly? My favorite thing about myself today is that I’m no longer afraid to just be a person.

That might sound vague, but let me explain I spent most of my life feeling like I had to be something more than just myself like I had to be an upgraded version, a constant work in progress, a walking potential-filled blueprint of a person Every decision, every hobby, every interest had to serve a purpose. If I liked something, I had to be good at it If I was good at something, I had to make it worth something And if it wasn’t worth something, then why was I even wasting my time?

I don’t know where exactly this pressure came from probably a mix of the way I was raised, the environment I grew up in and my own stubborn need to be someone who mattered But it was exhausting almost like living inside a never-ending job interview, except I wasn’t even sure what position I was applying for.

At some point, I got tired of it Or maybe I just outgrew it But either way, I stopped seeing myself as an unfinished project and started seeing myself as a person

And let me tell you: It has changed everything.

The freedom of not performing 24/7

I think every first-generation kid understands what it’s like to feel like they are constantly representing something bigger than themselves There’s a weight that comes with being the first: the first to go to college, the first to have a shot at something different, the first to step into spaces that weren’t necessarily designed for people like you And that weight? It never really goes away.

I’ve carried it my whole life Every class I took, every award I won, every opportunity I chased it all felt like it had to mean something. It couldn’t just be for me It had to be for my family, for my community and for the sacrifices that got me here

And don’t get me wrong I am so proud of that I want to make my family proud I want to do something that matters But I’ve realized that if I spend my entire life only chasing what’s impressive, I’ll miss out on everything that’s actually fulfilling

So I’ve started letting myself enjoy things just because. I let myself listen to music I like without overanalyzing if it’s cool enough I read books that interest me without wondering if they’ll make me sound smarter in a conversation. I take naps without feeling guilty (this one took some work)

And the craziest part? The world didn’t end. My ambitions didn’t disappear My goals didn’t become meaningless If anything, I feel more capable of achieving them now, because for the first time, I’m chasing them out of love, not obligation.

Letting myself change without apology

There’s this idea people have that you have to be consistent to be taken seriously That you have to pick a personality, a style, a dream and stick to it forever. But honestly? I think that’s the biggest lie we ’ ve ever been told

I have been so many different versions of myself over the years. And every single one of them felt like the real me at the time

I’ve been the straight-A, school-obsessed academic. The introverted bookworm who couldn’t hold a conversation to save their life The loud, talkative kid who wouldn’t shut up The person who thought they had their whole career planned out at 16. The person who realized at 18 that they actually don’t know anything for sure and probably never will

And guess what? None of those versions of me were wrong They were just different stages of growth

I think about how five years ago, I saw the world completely differently than I do now And in five more years, I’ll probably look back at this version of myself and think, Wow, I was really out here thinking I had life figured out.

And that’s a good thing It means I’m growing It means I’m not stuck in one place, trying to force myself into a version of me that no longer fits

I’ve stopped apologizing for changing. I’ve stopped feeling like I owe anyone an explanation for why I think differently now than I did before People aren’t statues: we’re meant to evolve

Falling in love with the small stuff

For so long, I thought the best parts of life were the big moments: the achievements, the milestones, the grand accomplishments that people write about in speeches And, sure, those are great But lately, I’ve realized that my absolute favorite parts of life are the smallest ones

Like the feeling of walking around campus when the weather is perfect, headphones in, pretending I’m in a movie Like the way my family group chat never lets a single embarrassing childhood story die. Like late-night conversations that start off as jokes and somehow turn into the deepest, most honest confessions

I used to be so focused on becoming someone that I forgot how much joy there is in just existing in letting the moment be enough, instead of constantly thinking about what’s next

And the best part? The more I let myself enjoy the now, the more excited I feel about the future Not because I’m rushing toward it, but because I finally trust that whatever comes next will be worth it.

One of the things that has been so rewarding to me lately is the simple joy of going home. I know that may sound odd, especially considering I’m only 18 and not too far from home, but now that I’ve been away at college for a little while, I realize just how much my family means to me. Growing up, I was always surrounded by a sea of voices loud, laughing, debating and shouting over each other I took it for granted I was always rushing through life, thinking I’d get to spend time with everyone later. I didn’t think it would ever change

But now? Every visit back home feels like a treasure. It’s a feeling I can’t quite describe: the joy of walking

through the door and being embraced by the massive Cuban family I’ve known my whole life It’s like I’ve found this deep appreciation for the noise, the chaos, the simple moments spent sitting at the table with everyone. I can’t wait for the next family gathering: it’s not something I rush through anymore

The magic of getting lost in a stor

I never really realized how much power a good book has until I found myself in the hustle of college life, trying to keep up with assignments, exams and life itself But then, out of nowhere, I picked up a novel one night, and I was hooked again

I’d forgotten how satisfying it feels to completely lose yourself in a world that isn’t yours There’s something about getting lost in a good story that reminds me of the importance of rest, of slowing down, and just letting yourself be immersed in something without the pressure of needing to achieve I’ve realized I don’t need to fill every moment with productivity. It’s okay to be consumed by the pages and live a little outside of my own experience It’s a reminder that there is more to life than just rushing from one task to the next

So, what’s my favorite thing about who I am today?

If you asked me this question a few years ago, I probably would’ve given you an answer that sounded impressive something about my ambitions, my achievements, my drive But today? My favorite thing about myself is so much simpler.

I love that I’m still figuring things out I love that I no longer feel the need to prove my worth by constantly achieving something new. I love that I let myself change without feeling guilty about it I love that I find joy in the smallest, most ordinary moments

I love that, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I have to be anything other than exactly who I am right now

And that? That feels like enough

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online.

Ruben Diaz is a freshman from Miami, Fla. studying Molecular and Cellular Biology and Psychology.

The light that lives within Anne Li

I’d like to think that I’ve done many hard things in life: I moved to a new country; I learned to speak English fluently in a household that did not; I got accepted into the college of my dreams as a first generation student But learning to love myself was the hardest thing I’ve ever learned to do.

Growing up in an Asian household, compliments rarely existed Loving myself did not exist because I was not taught or shown how to love When I thought something was good, my grandma always taught me how to make it better My grandma’s income was a direct product of the number of clothes she sewed each day. More was always better and, in a way, these experiences helped me learn to never settle for less It was a different form of love that was abundantly shown. Yet the expectation that I always had to strive for more made me a person who was continuously unsatisfied I could always get better grades or do more extracurriculars And as I got older, this changed how I thought of my appearance, too.

It wasn’t until I turned 20 that I started to learn what “self love” meant. It started when I spent two weeks on the 20 floors of 33 W 42nd St Unlike most places, the University Eye Center was a place I already felt at home Home to me was New York City, and so the hustle and bustle of the clinic floors in the middle of Manhattan was a natural rhythm I quickly adjusted myself to Spending time on the clinic floors rather than lecture halls reminded me of the competence I had as an individual and future clinician. This experience filled me with hope The optometry students reminded me that, above any of the high standards I had defined for myself, my curiosity and passion in learning was more than enough. I had shown up, asked questions and demonstrated that I cared

I never expected to fall in love with optometry. But optometry showed me that when one door closes, another one opens It showed me what it meant and felt to be a part of a community that uplifted one another. Having the opportunity to be a part of the community showed me the extensions of optometry beyond a diagnosis and treatment There was a realm of health care policy, public health, research and innovation that I had yet to explore.

In an open house session, Dr Guilherme Albieri Vice President of Student Affairs at State University of New York College of Optometry gave an analogy that struck me He compared

hyperopia in vision (the ability to see far but not up close) to the way students like myself often saw goals. Worrying so much about my future was hindering the potential achievements I could be making along the way But just like most refractive errors, they could be corrected. I had to work on the way I thought of myself and take it day by day

In learning what it meant to care for others, I began to understand the importance of caring for myself Unlike the past two years during which I tried to find happiness in achievement, I turned inward and started prioritizing myself. I made time to read books and dance again These hobbies weren’t a waste of time Making time to do glissades and jetés across the floor helped take my mind off the daily stresses of university life and re-energized me outside the barre. As much as I worked on my balance in relevé, finding balance in my own life was the ultimate key to what I defined as success I started prioritizing time with friends, the people who saw me for who I was without disguise

As I learned, love exists in many forms. My grandma showed her firm love in teaching me to become a competent individual My big showed up and stood with me in the darkest of times and reminded me of how strong I was. Optometry and dance showed me the ways in which the things I love can also be shared with others Making time fo o love myself

“For I worthy to be n us. ” (Roma

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My favorite places in Baltimore Julia Mende

As I approach the end of my undergraduate career at Hopkins, I’m looking forward to new adventures and novelty. At the same time, I have also developed quite a firm place in my heart for our school and our city Like many other students, Baltimore is the first place I have lived in by myself, independent from my family and childhood friends, so it’s safe to say that the city has seen me through a lot of moments of growth I wanted to share some recommendations for places that have become some of me and my friends’ favorite spots in the city, in hopes that they will help you explore and better acclimate to your new home

1. Camden Yards

Before moving to the U.S., I was only tangentially aware of American football, and most of my baseball knowledge was limited to popculture references I knew of their existences but had no idea what the rules were, how the leagues worked or what the cultures of the sports were like

Thankfully, my home in Baltimore is just 20 minutes away from Camden Yards, the home of the Orioles My official verdict: It was kind of incredible The game in itself is quite fun due to the continuous action, complicated rules and somewhat impossible catches that fielders manage to complete Nonetheless, the real spectacle is the crowd; for however long the baseball game lasts, fans are constantly singing and chanting, participating in game-day traditions such as the Berks Live Hot Dog Race and just overall having a great time Tickets are more affordable than other sporting venues I have purchased same-day tickets for less than $20 each. All this to say, even if you’re a baseball novice like I was, do your best to attend a game during your four years at Hopkins

2. Wyman Park (No, not the building.)

Wyman Park Dell is a little hidden piece of green space tucked away at the south corner of campus, in front of The News-Letter’s Gatehouse There are two entrances to the park, and they both consist of climbing down a small set of steps into the main bowl. There are little walking paths and benches as well as a healthy expanse of green grass While that may not sound revolutionary, Wyman Park Dell is probably the best place to take a break and enjoy the sun (during the warmer months at least)

Most importantly, Wyman Park Dell is the place to go if you are a dog person After 4:30 p m , the park is often crowded with dogs, as members of the Charles Village community utilize the green space to give their pups some exercise This goes without saying, but just a quick reminder to ask before you approach

3. Kanom Cafe

The “cafe discussion” generates a great deal of controversy and debate among me and my friends, but as someone who has been to her fair share of places in Baltimore, I don’t take cafe recommendations lightly. So, believe me when I say that Kanom a relatively-new place by West 39th St and Canterbury Road is worth a visit They have a large variety of food, serving meal-like toasts, croissants and other baked goods, as well as dessert items such as macarons Their drink variety is also quite refreshing I once tried a Yuzu lemonade and they add new options at different times of the year.

Overall, it’s an interesting place to try when you need a change of scenery for studying, not to mention it allows you to support a familyowned business Additionally, it is a little further from the center of campus (about a 10-minute walk), so it motivates you to get up and move about. I certainly recommend visiting Kanom, although I should say that there is limited seating, so it’s not really the place for a large group

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online

Julia Mendes Queiroz is a senior from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil majoring in Economics and International Studies She is a Sports Editor for The News-Letter

We bleed green

Talia Lehrer

Through my veins runs a liquid similar to everyone else's, but as a Philadelphia Eagles fan, the sustenance has a unique color and composition we sum up as “green ”

Philadelphia is a city in the Northeast home to cheesesteaks, the Liberty Bell and a famous football team Even if this city wasn’t emerald from the illumination of the skyscrapers and the boat houses along the Schuylkill River, there’s no doubt that our collective passion as Eagles fans the passion of my parents, family friends and school o ld be isible an a After the 2018 S per Bo l in

y

The sense of camaraderie that blooms after an utterance of only two words “Go Birds” is astounding It’s not just a call to the team, but a greeting of “hello” and “goodbye.” Even outside of the city of brotherly love, I am astounded by how frequently I see people wearing Eagles gear Every time I see the familiar bird or spot the unusual green color on a hat, my lips curl upward into a smile. As a woman, people are often shocked when I explain that I like watching sports, but any true Birds fan will form an instant connection with others no matter what differences may separate them.

The hard truth about professional sports is that the majority of the time life is not full of greased poles and closed streets around city hall. But even through the highs and lows, we will still be watching Depending on the year, the overall mood may be set at different levels of optimism. But there always exists at least a miniscule sliver of hope that has the potential to grow into something more

I wake up every Sunday morning with both buzzing excitement and nervous jitters. I distinctly remember that one year when three of our professional sports teams lost championship games in the span of a few months Two of the games even occurred on the same day I won’t lie, it was extremely painful. After accepting defeat, we all still returned to our TVs the next year and pictured touchdowns, grand slams and a trophy making its way into a stadium

In this community, no one ’ s afraid to speak their mind We are not afraid to be vocal or aggressive and have called out our own athletes for poor plays before. But we have also organized standing ovations and pulled players out of batting slumps When the fandom joins together, not only can they feel the effects, but the effects are so profound that the players are also influenced.

Philly fans are intense, but we’re undyingly loyal to the city Sometimes people on the outside only see the meaner side of this fandom. Whether that’s because they don’t want to acknowledge the good sides because their team lost, or just because it feels strange to them to like a team that’s not their own. But we embrace the hate, having created a song about how “no one likes us ” But the key words in the song are “ we don’t care ” There’s something about this mindset that’s addicting to me. I wish I could care that little about what other people think of me, and I’d love to learn this skill from this community

Being an Eagles fan has become such a large part of my identity and has helped to shape new friendships I predict, even if I move one day, the love will still swell I’m grateful for the experience our Super Bowl win has provided me, and for the opportunity to host my normally unenthusiastic friends (when it comes to the game) and share with them this joy Even from multiple different states, my friends and family called me to celebrate our Super Bowl win. We watched videos of celebrations in the streets and longed to drive home for the parade

Oh, and there’s one more thing we Birds fans can all agree upon regardless of whether the team is doing well or not It has something to do with a certain blue star I’ll leave it at that.

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online

Talia Lehrer is a junior from Philadelphia, Pa majoring in Neuroscience

My favorite places at Hopkins Shirlene John

I know that I’m a sentimental person. I tend to hold onto the very bits of all my memories, littering my room with the edges of ticket stubs and plane tickets, books that have been bent in a million ways and bills from dinners out with friends. As I add to this collection, I find that my last semester at Hopkins has made me feel more nostalgic than usual To be honest, it hasn’t been easy; I’m sure many at Hopkins can relate to how this school has pushed us to the brink However, at the end of the day, I think my four years here will hold a special place in my heart

For this piece, I want to reflect back on the spaces at Hopkins that hold my memories the ones that almost broke me, the places where I fell in love with life and the ones I know that I will walk back to in the future and still feel right at home

AMR 3B 305

Freshman dorm rooms are always special, but I feel like this room, tucked into the corner of the third floor of the AMR 3B building, had a little extra magic in it There was ivy growing on the window, and I swear I’ve never had a more comfy bed This was the place where I grew most into my skin, learning who I was and who I wasn’t. This space became one of late night conversations, dishes washed in the bathroom sink and infamously where I learned to play the most horrific card of all time Mao.

However, I think the best part of freshman year was finding my people to the Girlies™ collective, I love you all so so much. Thank you for being the ones I can count on; this does feel a bit “drama” for writing this, but I'm so excited for all the memories that we will make in the future together. To Arantza, we beat the freshman roommate curse! I think my college experience has been made so much better knowing that I will always come home to comfort and kindness. To Luciana and Christina I owe the broken water machine at Fresh Food Cafe so much for bringing you both into my life I’m so excited to see what you both will get up to next, and I will be calling you both for apartment decor advice.

The Gatehouse

Being part of The News-Letter has shaped my time at Hopkins in ways I never expected Student journalism is always precarious stories are written in between midterms and office-hours, deadlines loom

like shadows and there's always more to be done than there is time for. But it's precisely that challenge that makes it so rewarding. Every piece, every interview, every late night in the Gatehouse is part of something bigger: telling the stories that matter, giving voice to underrepresented communities and holding institutions accountable. Despite the chaos and unpredictability, I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything else

Home

I think the last place I have to reflect on isn’t particularly here at Hopkins, but it’s a place I have to thank nonetheless To my family, to everyone back home thank you for picking up my calls and offering support when I felt the weight of everything getting too heavy Thank you to everyone for making me feel like I could do this and make it out successfully on the other side You were right I could do it, even on the days when it felt impossible.

To Hopkins, thank you for challenging me, inspiring me and pushing me beyond my limits. I’m excited to visit again one day and see how all these spaces have changed

This article has been abridged in print, and the complete version can be found online.

Shirlene John is a senior from San Jose, Calif majoring in Neuroscience and Anthropology. She is a co-Editor-in-Chief for The News-Letter.

A life defined by stories

Reshmita Nayudu

If I had to define my life, I would choose to define it not by what I’ve accomplished, but rather by the books I’ve read. I’ve spent my whole life passing from one story to the next To me, it isn’t a choice to pick up the next book but, rather, a need to consume words I fall hopelessly in love every time I open a book and then break my own heart the second I turn the page to the author’s acknowledgements And then, I remedy my heartbreak with the next dose of a good book, falling into this cycle of ups and downs as I search for something that will soothe my craving for another story

This love for literature started in my early years, when I would forego naptime for a chance with a good book I would wail as they tore the book away from me, my favorites Frog and Toad or Madeline that I barely understood with my limited English. I just loved to trace the words, especially when my mom read them out to me and my brother

Out of all the attempts my parents made to teach me English, going as far as taking me to a language center, their willingness to take me to the library was the one that gave me my ability to understand English The immense New York Public Library system cultivated my love for reading, especially their main location in Manhattan. I would beg my mom for a chance to go there, though we lived a good 40-minute train ride away, and I would max out both my and my brother’s library cards with 50 books on each one. I placed them carefully into the laundry cart that I would force my poor mom to lug back, as the librarians smiled at the stacks that reached far beyond my seven-year-old head. I loved Amelia Bedelia and Geronimo Stilton, as they gave me the courage to speak to my fellow classmates When I would get in trouble in class, it would not be for speaking while the teacher was teaching but for reading under my desk.

When I moved away from the city, the first thing I did was get a library card. My new library had a smaller selection, but I was determined to get through it I fell in love with fantasy novels here a love that I would carry for the rest of my life I read the entirety of Percy Jackson and Harry Potter, but my favorite was the Septimus Heap series, documenting the adventures of a magical young boy I gained my confidence in my new school from these books ones of young people put into these brand new, magical worlds of which they knew nothing

I continued reading throughout middle school, even when I had to go to India when my grandfather was sick and through the COVID19 pandemic. In high school, my love for reading translated into other activities I developed a passion for writing, starting a club to write letters to nursing homes I volunteered at the library, using my knowledge of books to make lengthy reading lists.

Even as I missed school often for doctor’s appointments, I would spend my time in the waiting room wrapped up in whatever book I could find, expanding the variety of genres that I read I read fantasy as always, like Kaikeyi a retelling of the Ramayana and Strange the Dreamer the story of a boy exploring a lost city. I read memoirs like Crying in H Mart that brought me to tears I read Like the Movies and People We Meet on Vacation, falling in love with the cheesy rom-com I read historical fiction, such as A Thousand Splendid Suns and Half of a Yellow Sun When it came to writing my college essays, I spent hours talking about my love for reading For my senior capstone project, I explored culture through fantasy, spending months reading and writing page-long reviews

And when I got to college, I converted my hobby into my education. The same historical fiction that I read during all those doctor’s appointments inspired me to major in History and Writing Seminars, hoping to write something that satisfies the craving for words endured by fellow story addicts like me

Reshmita Nayudu is a freshman from Chappaqua, N.Y. studying History and Writing Seminars.

Bookmarked Arantza Garcia

Your life is recorded in the millions of trillions of muggy fingerprints you leave behind in every decision you make: Innermost secrets spill out in the non-privacy of your internet searches, the political party you voted for last election and the text you sent your mom yesterday

The fingerprints that make up my life only click into place when I see the novels, textbooks and architecture tomes of my past swirl and swim to superimpose over the moments they mark in my life; words and emotions pressed and preserved between sticky pages I pick out a few volumes from where they hover over my timeline and set them out neatly onto the table in front of me. I turn them so you can see them

We start with From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E L Konigsburg It has that scratchy, browned paper of a childhood paperback Our protagonist solves Michelangelo mysteries and hides from security guards in bathroom stalls. I am dazzled by the idea of running away to live in The Metropolitan Museum of Art After this book, I keep meticulous track of my loose dollar bills, of any spare change I can get my hands on in preparation for the possibility of stowing away curled under a bus seat to reach New York and sleep surrounded by works of art

When I read Chew on This by Eric Schlosser and Charles Wilson, the grotesque imagery of poultry farms makes me swear off chicken nuggets but only the ones from McDonald’s.

Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie is such a silly and terribly clever book that it cracks my head open to the understanding that I can write, too

Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s The Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life can only be described as a generous slathering of detail True to its encyclopedic format, Rosenthal’s life is cut into entries and categorized alphabetically rather than chronologically. We see multiple pages worth of her parking tickets and know she loves the palindrome “WonTon, not now ” and from that point on I think about her entry for the word “love” so often it becomes my own truth

Mirage by Jenn Reese makes me want to learn to scuba dive. It drives me to read Darwin

I didn’t consider myself a science person until I read The Lives of a Cell: Notes of a Biology Watcher by Lewis Thomas. The interlocking of each phrase with the next sounds like an array of facts splayed over sheet music, the words rhythmic in both logic and diction I reread these essays multiple times throughout high school.

As I have aged, my commitment to reading has fluctuated, which is perhaps a telling reflection in and of itself. To rescue and satiate my reading, I have started revisiting my old books

It was a shock when the brilliance of Forty Rooms by Olga Grushin seemed to shrivel the second time I opened it I stopped calling it my favorite book Yet, when I look back, I only remember the first read The prodding thrill, the cancer scare and Russian ghosts, the book angled to catch the light of the sparse streetlamps before the car is plunged into semi-darkness once again

I picked up To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf for the first time during quarantine Her writing was an exercise in white water rafting, plunging from one character’s inner world to another, direction dictated by the tiniest shift of a rock I imagined myself standing in an empty house with the characters echoing off each other in the same way I stood still in my room around a changing world. Upon rereading, I disagreed vehemently with my past self’s annotations No, I no longer feel the need to punch Mr Ramsey in the face I no longer take sides in their conversations, choosing instead to simply chew on the words and see what they taste like to me

It is strange to revisit a book and find something new, or stranger yet, to not see what was there the first time

Looking through my favorites, it’s easy to think of my bookshelf as a biography In reality, it is a mirror Each time you revisit a book, a small trace of yourself gets snagged between the lines, the smudges accumulating like heights marked on the walls of a childhood home. Blocks of text and ink are static, but even as they hold the same greasy fingerprints from years ago, those marks flicker if you stand in front of them for long enough. Squint your eyes, tilt your head slightly, and you’ll see the tally marks burgeoning and compressing to form the shimmery reflection of your face as it is now

Arantza Garcia is from Miami, Fla majoring in Behavioral Biology and Neuroscience