SPORTS

MEN'S HOCKEY

BULLDOGS GO 1-1 AGAINST BROWN In their season opener, Yale secured a 2–0 victory in the second shutout of goalie Nate Reid ’24’s career. However, Brown scored two early goals in their rematch the following day en route to a 2–1 victory.

FIELD HOCKEY

YALE TROUNCES DARTMOUTH In their penultimate game of the season, the Bulldogs overcame a sluggish start to beat the Big Green 2–1, as Lily Ramsey ’25 scored her fifth and sixth goals of the year. This is Yale's third Ivy-league win.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2022 · yaledailynews.com

“Last time we played together we didn’t do so well, so the invite this weekend served as a good redemption.”

RENAUD LEFEVRE ’24

MENS TENNIS

Volleyball extends winning streak to 16

YALE ATHLETICS

After facing Cornell and Columbia, Yale remains undefeated and number one in the Ivy League with a 16-game winning streak

BY TIFFANY HU AND HENRY FRECH CONTRIBUTING REPORTERS

In another weekend of Ivy League play, Yale’s volleyball team (18–1, 10–0 Ivy) swept Cornell University (4–15, 2–8) and Columbia University (4–15, 1–9).

With the two victories, they extended their win streak to 16 and overall record to 18–1, bringing their winning percentage up to .947, the third-best mark in the nation.

“This team has got to be one of my favorites of all time,” head coach Erin Appleman said about this year’s team. “Our defense this past weekend was exceptional. We have great chemistry.”

The Bulldogs’ fi rst set — a Friday night matchup against Cornell — was competitive until the midway point of the period. Both teams battled back and forth, as the Blue and White clawed to a 14–11 lead. After a successful sixpoint streak, the Bulldogs surged to 20–11.

The Blue and White ended the set with a kill by Mila Yarich ’25 to take the period by a score of 25-17.

The Big Red, unfazed by the Bulldogs’ late first-period momentum, opened the second set with a renewed competitive spirit, fighting to stay close. With just a 16–15 lead, Cara Shultz ’25 landed a kill to shift momentum in the Bulldogs’ direction.

The Elis went on to have another six-point streak with two kills, a service ace and a block, and they cruised comfortably to a 25–20 victory in the set.

The third set followed a similar script to the first two sets, as

SEE VOLLEYBALL PAGE 10

Football dominates Columbia

BY AMELIA LOWER STAFF REPORTER

The Yale football team (5–2, 3–1 Ivy) posted one of its most impressive victories of the season, defeating Columbia University (3–4, 0–4 Ivy) in a lopsided 41–16 score.

Despite one fewer day of preparation than ordinary weeks, the Bulldogs came out fi ring on all cylinders in front of a crowd of 3,551 fans on Friday night.

“Friday was a great team win,” offensive lineman and captain Nick Gargiulo ’23 said. “We were executing well in all three facets of the game.”

Just over six minutes into the fi rst quarter, Columbia kicker Alex Felkins tallied the fi rst three points of the game with a 17–yard fi eld goal.

Determined to answer back, under two minutes later, quarterback Nolan Grooms ’24 connected with wide receiver Ryan Lindley ’24 on a beautiful overthe-shoulder deep ball for Yale’s fi rst touchdown of the game.

The 83-yard touchdown pass tied the mark for the fi fth longest in school history.

“The o ense was able to establish success in the pass game,” Gargiulo said. “Chase Nenad [’24] and Ryan Lindley both had breakout performances.”

Over the course of the game, Grooms threw a career-high 346 yards and four touchdowns. Lindley also had an impressive game, catching six passes for 100 yards and two touchdowns.

The Lions snapped back less than three minutes into the second frame, with a 13-yard run into the endzone for a touchdown, although the Bulldogs’ defense stopped an attempt for the two-point conversion.

While Columbia briefly had a lead, kicker Jack Bosman ’24 booted a 41-yard fi eld goal with 9:27 left in the half to give Yale a 10–9 advantage.

“Give Columbia credit, they have a great defense and it made for some tough sledding in the fi rst half,” head coach Tony Reno said to Yale Athletics. “Our guys did a great job of staying the course and making some plays in the second half.”

A minute and 24 seconds after the Bulldogs scored, Columbia regained the lead again, as Lions quarterback Caden Bell threw a 64 yard pass to wide receiver JJ

SEE FOOTBALL PAGE 10

YALE ATHLETICS

The Yale football team beat Columbia on Friday night, winning 41–16 in New York City.

Basketball gears up for season without star player

YALE ATHLETICS

With Camilla Emsbo ’23 sitting out for the year, the women's basketball team looks to build on results from last season.

BY HENRY FRECH CONTRIBUTING REPORTER

The Yale women’s basketball team has seen major changes since the end of last season.

While the team welcomed a new head coach — former WNBA player Dalila Eshe — leading player Camilla Emsbo ’23 was ruled out for the year due to an ACL injury. Amid the changes, the Bulldogs remain focused on one goal: improving from last year.

The Blue and White fi nished last season third in the Ivy League with an overall record of 16–11 and a conference record of 9–5.

“Overall [last season] was fi ne,” said Jenna Clark ’24. “We knew we could have done a lot better, we lost some games we shouldn’t have.”

The Bulldogs will travel near and far for their non-conference schedule this season. Most of their games will be against teams from around the Northeast, but two will take place in Denver, Colorado, where the Blue and White will compete in the University of Denver Classic from Nov 25-26.

Success in the non-conference schedule will impact the team’s overall record, which holds sway over the Bulldogs’ ultimate goal: placement into a postseason tournament at the end of the year.

“Obviously [the goal] is making the [Ivy League] tournament but then once we get there going to a postseason tournament,” Clark said.

SEE BASKETBALL PAGE 10

Soccer takes third in the Ivy League

BY TOIA CONDE RODRIGUES DA CUNHA STAFF REPORTER

The Bulldogs (7–5–3, 2–1–2 Ivy) own Reese Stadium.

With what is now a record five straight shutouts, Yale is unbeaten at home. Saturday’s match against Columbia University (7–4–3, 3–2–1) extended what is now a seven-game win streak in Blue and White territory.

In a battle for third place and also on senior night, the Bulldogs triumphed over the Lions in a match that ended 1–0. Marz Akins ’25 was the author of the goal with an assist from Ellie Rappole ’25.

“It felt amazing to score the game-winning goal during a physical game against Columbia,” Akins wrote to the News. “It is a testament to all the hard work put into our preparation leading up to the game and the versatility of our back line to also be dangerous in the attack.”

The goal took place in the 38th minute of the fi rst half. Rappole had the ball on the left side of the fi eld, and delivered a cross into the box straight to Akins, who dodged a Lions defender and brought the ball to the net.

The California native’s goal was the sole point of the match. This was also Akins’ fi rst career goal playing for the Bulldogs.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get the opportunity to score without Ellie’s aggression and dominance offensively,” Akins wrote. “It felt amazing getting my fi rst career goal at Yale and I look forward to scoring more!”

The defense shined once again on Saturday night as they kept the score 1–0. Columbia had eight shots on goal and

SEE SOCCER PAGE 10

MUSCOSPORTSPHOTOS.COM

The Bulldogs will fi nish the season undefeated at home and with a record fi ve straight clean sheets.

// BY JANE PARK

Minutes blur into each other as the clock reads 4:37 a.m. Insecurities that we put to bed years ago continue to haunt us. The silence of the world is deafening.

We’ve all been here, experiencing our own sleepless nights. And in “Midnights,” Taylor Swift encapsulates these experiences in 13 tracks, inviting us to take an inside look at the things that keep her awake.

Like her last two albums, Taylor Swift’s newest collection does not necessarily follow dominant pop trends. Instead, her musical and lyrical genius is unique to the stories of her life; it references the other chapters in the Swiftmetaverse through a delicious assortment of musical genres.

Without further ado, here is a comprehensive list of the album’s sexy babies

Cont. on page B2

‘Midnights’ Review: What Keeps You Awake At Night?

// JESSAI FLORES

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2022

WEEKEND

TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM REVIEW

Cont. from page B1

Lavender Haze

As the starting track of the album, the intro of “Lavender Haze” serves as the introduction of the entire album: “Meet me at Midnight.” The title of the song, as well as its lyrics, refers to the haziness and enthrallment of falling in love, a mood reflected in the sweet and pulsing melody. As Swift croons, “I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say,” she alludes to the media attention on her romantic history and declares that she just wants to stay in this immersive cloud of love.

Maroon

This is not the fi rst time Swift has titled her songs after a color. But unlike her single “Red,” “Maroon” bears a darker, more sensual tinge to her usual love story. Following the bridge, Swift drops an octave and huskily sings the chorus, delivering the lyrics as if they were dialogue.

Anti-Hero

Beautifully described as a “guided tour” of the parts Swift hates about herself, “Anti-Hero” declares bluntly: “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem.” Anti-Hero is arguably the most representative song of the album, with Swift openly discussing how her personal struggles continue to bleed into her life, causing her “midnights [to] become [her] afternoons.” It’s also the song where Swift’s lyrical prowess shows the most: “When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room.” However, the use of “sexy baby” in one line received mixed reviews. In my opinion, the line is edgy enough to get its point across: the shock factor is what ultimately grabs our attention and keeps it.

Snow On The Beach (feat. Lana Del Rey)

While not a personal favorite, “Snow On The Beach” is significant, as it contains the only feature of the album and is a meeting of two talented songwriter/musical storytellers. While Del Rey’s vocals remain almost too minimal to consider it a feature, her soft vocals are heard poignantly in the last chorus. Lyrically, the track compares the moment of falling in love with the “weird but fucking beautiful” image of snow on the beach. Its musicality echoes its lyrical content, as Lana Del Rey and Swift’s layered voices create a dreamy and haunting e ect.

You’re On Your Own, Kid:

“You’re On Your Own, Kid” is Track 5, a spot often held by the most emotionally honest and tear-jerking song of each Taylor Swift album. The song fulfills this legacy, as Swift tells her younger self: “Everything you lose is a step you take. So make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it.” This lyrical introspection is a trademark asset of Swift’s, one that is afforded only by her 15-year reign in the spotlight, a weighty feat in the industry.

Midnight Rain

Like her past two albums, “Midnight Rain” echoes Swift’s mixture of fictional storytelling and references to her own life in her lyricism. Characters from past songs, such as the pageant queens and hometown boys, also make cameos in this song. Lyrically reminiscent of “I Bet You Think About Me” and “The Way I Loved You,” Swift sings of a past lover and the “what-if” scenarios that haunt her: “I never think of him, except on midnights like this.”

Vigilante Shit

Another kind of haunting appears at night: when Swift isn’t looking back on past romances, her regrets and hurt accumulate into a form of vengeance. “Vigilante Shit” is a revenge anthem, with heavy synths and percussion to rhythmically reflect the anger in the lyricism. Evocative of energy from her Reputation era, “Vigilante Shit” is a reminder to listeners that though Swift has risen above her histories with Scooter Braun and Kanye West, she recognizes their impact on her music and her life. While musically and contextually interesting, “Vigilante Shit”’s lyricism is not Taylor Swift’s best: “Now she gets the house, gets the kid, gets the pride. Picture me as thick as thieves with your ex-wife.” To be frank, it’s a little cheesy.

Sweet Nothing

After the sequence of vengeful, bad-bitch anthems, Swift switches the atmosphere with a song dedicated to Joe Alwyn, her significant other. One can’t help but view the placement of “Sweet Nothing” as intentional; let’s be honest, what isn’t intentional with Taylor Swift? After focusing on her enemies, Swift sings about the restful and simple nature of her romantic relationship. While the world of “industry disruptors” and “soul deconstructors” is fatiguing, Swift can lower her guard with Alwyn, who expects nothing but “sweet nothings.”

Mastermind

Yes, another love song — allegedly — dedicated to Alwyn. Through the lyrics, “What if I told you I’m a mastermind? And now you’re mine,” Swift cheekily says to Alwyn: Gotcha! You’ve now succumbed to my love! While Swift orchestrated this romantic destiny, “Mastermind” as the final song to the album suggests that Swift is the dominant mastermind of her artistry, as well. After all, what other artist could fill up the entire Top 10 on the Hot 100?

And don’t even get me started on the “3am Edition.”

Contact JANE PARK at jane.park@yale.edu .

When Things Don’t Fall Into Place

// BY PO EIC QUAH

Yale feels like a simulation. The tour groups always block the same paths. The chicken in the dining hall is always the same amount of dry. The playlists at frat parties never change. I feel like I am in a version of “The Truman Show” sometimes, but instead of being advertised kitchen utensils or cocoa drinks, I get introduced to yet another online anonymous discussion space every few months. There is no room for deviation here: that misplaced sauce bottle in Commons is more likely the work of a frat pledge than the mistake of the sta . Everything works well, sometimes too well that it scares me.

I found an increasing need to microdose chaos as the days pass to remain sane. I used to hop on the Metro-North to the City to escape Yale’s apple-pie order, but that hasn’t been so kind to my bank account. So I settled for the next best place that would supply my cravings: Hong Kong Grocery Market.

The Market, which ironically offers little from Hong Kong, is more than just another Asian grocery store to me. It has a comforting sense of chaos that no Yale-a liated establishment embraces. The boxes meant for the storage room greet me in between racks, down the aisles and at the checkout counter. The polka-dotted and crystal-studded fl ipfl ops are found in the same section as the meat fridge. There is a stray jar of dried shrimp nestled among fruits and butter in the refrigerated section. The hipster coffee shops around campus can only aspire to reach the forms of anarchy that the store has e ortlessly mastered.

The Market feels homely to me because it does not pretend to be perfect. The canned drinks on the fl oor could be placed elsewhere. That hollow tile near the storage room could be fi xed. But these little imperfections do not impede the Market’s operations, and quite honestly, they add some charm to the place. This is not an institution that needs fl ashy interiors and state-of-the-art service to divert attention away from entrenched systemic problems. This is a modest grocery store that supplies Asian goods, and I respect the great job that it does.

But much more than that, the Market is the closest thing to the grocery stores where most of my childhood in Malaysia played out. The dried shredded squid, grass jelly drinks, rice crackers and Tom Yum pastes that the store o ers are goods that no grocery store back home will be complete without. The prices are about the same too, if I pretended for a second that exchange rates were not a thing. I can almost imagine myself frantically searching for dark soy sauce and wheat noodles as the exhaust pipe of my mother’s car outside rumbles in frustration.

Being away from home for so long, I have had to look for pockets of home in places like the Market to remedy my yearning for home. I spend too many nights — more than I’d care to admit — sobbing at stock photos of Malaysian food, and though I do not have the culinary talents to remake these recipes, I fi nd unadulterated joy in shu ing through the aisles pretending to look for ingredients for that laksa broth I cannot boil yet. I bathe myself under the faint fluorescent strip above me while taking in the somehow familiar scent of the store. I read the labels on the packaging carefully.

The fl ight to Kuala Lumpur takes at least a day, but the walk to this market takes only ten minutes. There, I still get to say: “I’m home.” And I’m happy with that.

Contact PO EIC QUAH at poeic.quah@yale.edu .

HOW TO DIEGO

// BY DIEGO HARO

Go to yalies.io. Look up your name. What do you find?

If you were born in the U.S. between 1996 and 2004, you are most likely named either Jacob or Emily. If you’re not named Jacob or Emily — celebrate, you beat the odds. If you’re named Jacob or Emily, celebrate anyway. Go back to yalies.io. Search for Jacob. See a wall of Jacobs: a toothy-smile Jacob, a toothless grin Jacob, a stoic Jacob, a smizing Jacob, a …... Look closer. Discover an economics Jacob, a Georgia Jacob, a Gemini Jacob, a sophomore Branford Jacob from California who was born in September and doesn’t know his major yet. Wonder why most Jacobs are in Franklin. Also wonder if you should know this much personal info about Jacob and Jacob and Jacob.

If you were born between 1996 and 2004, you are less likely, but still fairly likely, to be named Diego.

Close the tab. Check your email. If you’re named Diego, find the email to Diego, Diego, Diego, Diego, Diego, me, Diego, and Diego with the subject, “Anyone want do a group Diego dinner?”. Since you’re busy, lazy, jaded, and too cool to explore beyond your inner circle, close the email. Go about your day. Rest and remember the Davids. In Fall 2021, spurred by a mislabeled package to “David”, Yale’s army of Davids shamelessly united. They didn’t care. Pause. Reflect. Recheck your email.

A bolder Diego has already replied. He’ll offer to host the Diego Dinner at his home if another Diego can spearhead the cooking. Another Diego will reply. Like you, he can’t cook. But he’ll establish the Diego Dinner Fund (DDF, much like the IMF, for short). Another another Diego will reply and agree with Diego and Diego. The Diegos are sharp, witty, everything you’d expect them to be. You, of course, must reply with an email as witty as the others. Don’t panic. If they’re anything like you, they’ll understand a witless email. Right? Think for a day. At a club meeting, talk to another Diego you know. He’ll be intimidated by the chain too. Reassure him. Go home, write the email, send. More replies will trickle in. A date is set. Nobody will know how to cook — why?

Shower, shave, dress. Pick up the pizza you ordered and debate whether you should send a “PIZZAA INCOMING!!” email. Decide against it, save the excitement. You still won’t know whether the other Diegos are understanding. Smile and meet a Diego at the door, then more inside. Immediately bond over the fact that you were nearly all named after Diego Rivera. Also bond over the fact that you get confused when you hear “Jacob” because it almost sounds like Diego. Jacob is a common name. Everybody will rock different shoes: Stan Smiths, black boots, hiking Hokas, black Converse. None of it matters. Get deeper. Share that you cried when a girl said Go Diego Go to you in second grade. Hear and laugh at how others dealt with what was pseudo childhood trauma for you. The theme song was my cross-county anthem, one will say. I did cross-country too, another will shout. Me too, another.

Dinner will have some awkward pauses. After all, it’s nine strangers who share a name. Thank a Diego for bringing Tequila. It’s the good stuff, he’ll say. Together, take a shot. Salud. Pa’ riba, Pa’bajo, Pa’centro, Pa’dentro it. When the Diegos go around and say whether they have siblings, joke that your older sister is named Dora. The Diegos will roar. They’re understanding. Take another shot. Wait. Then another. Make sure the Diegos are also drinking water. Get rowdy to Bad Bunny and Diego by Torey Lanez. Flip cups. Ping Pong. Everybody will shout, hug and welcome the Diego who showed up late. Ah — you’ll love the Diegos.

Contact DIEGO HARO at diego.haro@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS

Shrimp and fruits.

Writing, Unconcentrated

// BY JESSAI FLORES

At this point every semester, after having emerged from the perilous tides of the midterm season, Yale students fi nd themselves watching the waves recede and reveal before them the menacing pincers of the creative writing applications hidden beneath the sand. What happens next is a mad dash to tame the beasts and scramble to get a seat in an ever-intensifying game of musical chairs. You may want to snatch an application up from the murky sand and try your luck at getting a seat in a course, but so will everybody else. It should be common knowledge now that if you want to get into a creative writing course, and perhaps later the creative writing concentration, chances are that you probably will not — and that is okay.

I speak as someone who has been rejected so many times from the creative writing courses, who never stood a chance to get into the creative writing concentration, and who gave up the fi ght entirely. My experience with the countless rejection emails denying me a spot in Yale’s creative writing courses has allowed me to reconsider my relationship with what it means to be a writer. There were misty-eyed moments where I once believed that perhaps I was not good enough, and that I would never have a literary career. This was of course just me being ruthless to myself and placing all my artistic value on what is practically just a lottery. Like a lottery, the results are nothing personal. I learned after my third semester applying and again getting rejected that the feeling of personal failure recedes much like fl oodwater after a storm. You get used to being told “no.” If anything the rejections are realistic. The publishing industry is notorious for being ruthless with rejections. What is an author without a stack of rejected manuscripts?

// JESSAI FLORES

In fact, there are many people who have had storied literary careers and have made tremendous contributions to English literature who have never set foot in a Yale creative writing course. Phillip Larkin, Toni Morrison, Christina Rossetti, Sylvia Plath, Nathaniel Hawthorne and countless other men and women of letters never submitted applications to Advanced Poetry or Writing the Television Drama at Yale. Yet, they will spend more time in Yale classrooms than any of us, occupying permanent spots in overcrowded seminars for years to come. So if you do not get into the concentration or to any of the classes know that you will be in fantastic company. And who knows? You too might even end up on some future Yale professor’s syllabus.

Now, I am not arguing that the creative writing courses are terrible or that the instructors are heartless. I want to state, for the record and for posterity, that I have the utmost respect for the English and creative writing faculty. It is such an honor to have been on the same campus as a Nobel Prize winner, Pulitzer recipients, and beloved poets, critics, journalists, and writers. What I am arguing instead is that the creative writing courses are not a necessity nor a requirement to have a successful literary career or to leave an impact on literature and the arts. Do not weigh your value as a writer on the results of what will inevitably be a competitive application season. The creative writing courses are to the art of writing as Tabasco is to soup. Does it help? Sure. But a creative writing course does not on its own make a writer, much like soup cannot be just Tabasco and nothing else. Your writing, like a good soup, is made up of a vast list of ingredients: your experiences, infl uences, and inspirations. The creative writing courses are just one of the potential ingredients at your disposal. Whether you fi nd yourself in possession of this ingredient is not a refl ection of your skills. Rather, it is evidence that the ingredient is scarce and in high demand. So cook with something else.

I am a writer who never got into any of the application-based creative writing courses or my dream concentration. Instead, I, like Plath, Rossetti, and perhaps you, am a writer outside of the concentration. Locked out of a selective group. So I write unconcentrated on and unconcerned about what the results of the creative writing applications say about me. You will never fi nd my work in a creative writing seminar, but you will fi nd my voice elsewhere. If not here in this paper, then in other student publications and then later on bookshelves in dusty libraries. I am an unconcentrated writer bent to the will of my own ambition and paying no mind to my ever-growing and unsurprising list of rejection letters. The measure of a great writer is not whether they get accepted into programs, but instead what they do with the pile of rejected material on their desks.

What does a great writer do when they are rejected? They keep writing.

Writing is an art, and like a painting, not every gallery or classroom will want to make space for you. But, the act of writing is the act of space-making. If you do take your chance at tackling the sandy beasts of the creative writing applications, know that if you wipe out, there will still be plenty of room on the beach and lots of ocean to explore. So, lay out a towel, put paper in your typewriter, line up your margins, and carve a space for yourself in the vast inky blue wonder of the literary arts.

Contact JESSAI FLORES at jessai.fl ores@yale.edu .

// BY HANNAH KURCZESKI

If I were a season, I’d be autumn. Just as the leaves are constantly falling from trees, I am constantly falling. I don’t mean physically –– though that happens a lot, too –– but emotionally. I get over-invested in everything I do, which works out fi ne when I’m actually able to do said things. But after coming to Yale, I found myself falling for activities that wouldn’t catch me.

My high school’s student body was a thirteenth of Yale’s My high school’s student body was a thirteenth of Yale’s undergraduate population, and not at all competitive. It was very easy to get involved there. After I left Yale’s Extracurricular Bazaar, my inbox fl ooded with details about club applications and auditions, I began to realize involvement wouldn’t come as easily here.

My Google Calendar quickly fi lled with audition dates and application deadlines, and soon after, my inbox was graced by another kind of email: one of rejection. “Thank you for auditioning for our project,” they always started. “Unfortunately, we are not able to o er you a role at this time.” It was always the same.

Yale is fi lled with talented, brilliant, innovative people, so I didn’t fool myself into thinking that getting involved would be as easy as it was in high school. Still, each rejection felt like rubbing salt in an already open wound. I’d fallen for each activity harder than Bella Swan fell for Edward Cullen. I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time romanticizing the people I’d meet and the things I’d do, if only I got accepted into each activity. But instead of having a super strong vampire to catch me when I fell, I had nothing but questions and a bruised ego.

All of this left me wondering: how do you recover from rejection? How do you cope when it feels like you’re not good enough to do the things you want to do?

It would’ve been all too easy to fall into a well of self-doubt and despair, and to a certain extent, I did. But somehow, I always managed to crawl my way out. I found my “lifelines” –– things that shined a light in my proverbial tunnel, and that, when woven together, created a safety net that broke my fall.

The fi rst of these lifelines was my friends. As cheesy as it sounds, the people I’ve met here have brought more joy into

Catching myself

my life than I knew possible. Not only that, but we were all going through similar struggles. Everyone was getting the same rejection emails; Everyone was having a hard time. Knowing that I didn’t have to naviKnowing that I didn’t have to navigate the gate the // ARIANE DE GENNARO

losses on my own made a difference, because suddenly, recovery wasn’t a solitary task. Sometimes it looked like crying on the couch in my friend’s suite, and other times it looked like 1 a.m. snack runs to GHeav, but it was all recovery. It was all together.

Something else that helped? Relying on my favorite things, like Disney’s “Hercules.” “Hercules” was the only movie I’d brought with me from home, and that was by accident. Or maybe it wasn’t; Maybe the universe knew I would need it, because when the familiar characters flashed across the screen, suddenly I was six years old again, cuddled on the couch in my mother’s arms. Oddly enough, “Hercules” also helped put things in perspective: At least I didn’t have to slay a Hydra to save a village like the titular character. If Hercules could overcome the pressure of being a hero and move on with his life, then I could certainly overcome the pressure of club application season and move on with mine.

I believe that every rope in a net is equally important.

If one were to break, the entire net could unravel, and then you’d have nothing to catch you. Still, if I had to pinpoint the thing that helped me most, it would be the fact that there is always something else out there. When I was younger, I adopted a mentality: If something that I really wanted to happen didn’t work out, then that just meant something even better must be coming. Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter as much as the basic fact that something else is coming. It wasn’t until one night in my friend’s suite that I realized how temporary everything is. I’d had a rough day, and she told me that the way that I was a rough day, and she told me that the way that I was feeling wouldn’t last forever. “It’s only October,” feeling wouldn’t last forever. “It’s only October,” she reminded me. “The rejection you’re facing now she reminded me. “The rejection you’re facing now won’t even be on your mind three months from now.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was right. I’ll keep working, I’ll keep applying, and though rejections will inevitably happen, so will successes.

I am autumn. I fall like the leaves, but harder and faster because I get so excited to do the things that I love. Clearly, those things won’t always work out, but that’s okay because I’ll have more things to look forward to. I’ll have my friends. And, if nothing else, I’ll have “Hercules.”

Contact HANNAH KURCZESKI at hannah.kurczeski@yale.edu .

// BY HANNAH KURCZESKI

Aries

It’s your favorite time of year: election season! Try to avoid picking unnecessary political fi ghts. Or don’t. You’ve never been one to let people boss you around, so why listen to me?

Taurus

This week you’ve been feeling like an extra in the movie of everyone else’s life, and it’s because you are. Stop blending into the background — go make your mark!

Gemini

It’s peak yague season and you’ve been feeling under the weather. I promise that a poorly mixed drink and fl ashing LED lights aren’t going to cure you — put the frat shoes away and get some rest.

WKND Horoscope

Cancer

Answer your phone. No, seriously — right now. Clear out those 1,738 emails and please, for the love of god, text your mom back.

Leo

You looked so good in your costume this Halloweekend that you picked up a new secret admirer!... kidding. The world doesn’t revolve around you the way you think it does.

Virgo

You’ve got secrets you want to keep, but Yale is smaller than you think it is. Stop name dropping and start using codenames.

Contact HANNAH KURCZESKI at hannah.kurczeski@yale.edu . Libra

The semester has gone on long enough that you’ve started to sink into a steady routine. Don’t get too comfortable — the leaves are changing and you are too. You might not see it yet, but your mom will defi nitely make a comment about it at Thanksgiving.

Scorpio

I know it’s your birthday season, but you’ve been partying a little too hard recently. Do yourself (and your GPA) a favor and lock yourself in Bass for a while.

Sagittarius

You are going to have the best week ever because you are amazing and you deserve it. This is 100 percent factual and not at all a personal manifestation from a Sag author.

// ELIZABETH WATSON

Capricorn

Your hookup is not going to text you. It’s probably not because they think you are out of their league, but rather you have the personality of a saltine. Also: invest in some chapstick.

Aquarius

You’re the water-bearer, and your waterworks have been working overtime. Maybe it’s the stress of midterms or the post-halloweekend blues, but stock up on kleenex, because this week you’re gonna need it.

Pisces

Drink some water. You might be a water sign, but you’re unbelievably dehydrated. Avoid the line at Yale Health and take care of yourself.

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Chapstick!

// BY ANDREW CRAMER

Dear Computer Science

Dear Computer Science,

What a run! Just under two years ago, while writing my Yale application, I had to list up to three potential majors I was interested in. I chose English, Classics and Statistics & Data Science.

Our entanglement came out of nowhere. We were introduced in first-semester CS50, cliché as that may sound. I never thought it would get this serious. It was just supposed to be a one-time thing. And yet, here we are now, brought together for a third consecutive semester in CS223.

I don’t know how we made it this far. I’m a humanities boy and you are quite definitionally a STEM gal. But I couldn’t settle for the mere tease of CS50. I loved the novelty, the difficulty and the thrill of a problem set done right. They left me yearning for more.

I thought one more class would bring me back to reality. I had heard malicious rumors about CS201, and I thought our little romance would end within the infamous walls of Dunham 220 as Professor Stephen B. Slade delivered our eulogy.

Instead, I fell head over heels. I began to feel more comfortable around you. I even went so far as to begin describing myself as an “intended CS & Econ major” after surviving that brutal three-and-a-half hour handwritten final exam in gloomy Davies Auditorium.

Sometime around then, however, it became less about my love for you and more about the love for what you represented. For some reason, our relationship provided me with an imagined aura of intrigue and power around others. It made me feel special.

Coming into this year, I dared to take our relationship to the next level, studying discrete math in CS202 and data structures in CS223.

And suddenly, far too abruptly, it all came crashing down. Like I said, I’m a humanities boy and you’re a STEM gal;

I spent hours and hours trying to revive the magic we shared, but it never came back. Thirty hours later with no fruits of my labor, I realized it wasn’t meant to be. After nights of crying on the fl oor to my “dont hmu” playlist, nights of tossing and turning in bed wondering why you were doing this

I’m Pyramus and you’re Thisbe; I’m Romeo and you’re Juliet. Pick an analogy about ill-fated love and it applies.

You said you wanted to make things more serious, you wanted to spend more time together. First problem set, we spent maybe 15 hours together. I could do this, I thought. And then, the second problem set hit, and I began to doubt if we were really compatible. to me, nights full of stress and unhappiness, I knew. Whatever this thing was, it was over.

As I began to re-evaluate our relationship, I thought back to the reasons why our sneaky links even began in the first place. I never had any software engineering ambitions. I just loved the thrill and the challenge. It was manageable then. But looking now, the thrill is gone, the challenge seemingly insurmountable.

All that was tethering me to you was my sense of pride. I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t handle the rollercoaster of a computer science life. I didn’t want to give up the superiority complex I felt over humanities kids.

But I had to. For my mental health, for my free time, for my sanity, I’m slipping off my engagement ring and dropping CS223. No longer an “intended CS & Econ major,” I’m a free agent once more.

This torrid a air of ours was something, wasn’t it? Just a year ago, I was so timid, so young and oh so naïve. And then, for that brief patch in the middle, it was glorious. When it was good, I never thought it would end. But now, I can’t stand the thought of devoting the rest of my college career to a grind just for the sake of commitment. It’s over.

Maybe I’ll play the fi eld and come back. Maybe I’ll realize that nobody else can make me feel the things you do. Maybe I’ll take CS223 in the spring and realize that it was just a “wrong place, wrong-time” situation. But right now, the emotions are too raw to even imagine such a possibility. Ethics, Politics & Economics has never looked so magnificent as the rays of sunshine streaming through the stained glass windows cascade over her shiny new dress.

Thanks for the memories, and thanks for taking a chance on a little boy from the humanities-side of the tracks. I’ll always remember what we had together. But it’s time to move on. It’s not you, it’s me.

Cordially, Andrew

Contact ANDREW CRAMER at andrew.cramer@yale.edu .

// BY ZOË HALABAN

The thirty-two minute subway ride to Washington Heights is a homecoming. I feel a breeze through the orifice in my stockings. “Orifice” is a word I learned by eavesdropping in sterile hallways connected to cardiology corridors. I’m twelve, and I seem a lot older than I am, so I no longer say tear.

My life is defined by rituals. Where I stand in the elevator once I get off 168th street, Sol LeWitt murals in the lobby, cooking Annie’s mac and cheese on my baby brother’s bedroom floor. Optimism takes the form of peach jelly rings from the gift shop — something yummier than Wonder Bread from the cafeteria — and finding hobbies.

My favorite extracurricular is going to Tower 6 of Columbia University Children’s Hospital, where my brother was a frequent resident for most of my childhood. Most would expect I was something of a vagabond. Instead, my health-shaped prosperity granted me the time and energy to construct a home and family in an objectively sullen space.

However, my outlets for this endeavor are mostly lacking. Until, one fortunate afternoon, I stumble upon a tea party in the Kosher kitchen. The smell of freshly baked goods almost masks the rubbing alcohol; this closet-like room in the corner of the hallway suddenly has royal allure. Dishes just like my grandmother’s best china are placed on every table, above a doily and a floral tablecloth.

I then realize, at the ripe age of twelve, that I am not nearly the fi rst inpatient wing habitué with the desire to make the hospital a home. The tea ladies, women who all have children with heart defects, soon adopt me as their token member of a new generation of tea women.

I have only two facts in common with most of the women: the unique type of love I have with my brother, their children and the hospital; and the enjoyment of afternoon tea. That was evidently all that was needed to make a space that routinely takes bravery to enter suddenly feel comfortable.

Once a month, the Tower 6 kitchen would turn into a beautiful tea parlor filled with delicious treats, support, warmth and community.

My (not so) baby brother is fortunately healthy now. This is a gift I am grateful for every day. And still, my memories of my years at the hospital are largely ones of love, my favorite cake and hot mugs of earl gray tea — like artifacts of any home.

In many ways, my college life is still defined by rituals. But I have never stopped turning to tea as a solace. My lovely suitemates engage in (very modest) tea parties in our common room, and I keep a stack of loose-leaf tea boxes on the mantle. No resolution for a tough day goes without boiling water. Though born in a dismal home, this tradition is a continuous reminder of the community and small triumphs that may be fixed by some tea.

Contact ZOË HALABAN at zoe.halaban@yale.edu .

Have a tea with me

// MADDIE SOULE

WKND Hot Take:

Cancel Harvard-Yale.