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Dei Sub Numine Viget

Up in High Places

Fine Hall: Barad-dûr, but it’s nice at night. After dinner you and I go to the third floor lounge to study. We look at the pictures of graduate students. 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995. They all have funny hair but we agree that their glasses are stylish and 1991 wore the best jeans. We sit back down to do work but after five minutes we’re restless again in the room with brown carpeting, brown walls, and brown ceilings. “Do you want to check out the top floor?” I ask. We go up and try the door. Locked. We settle for the next floor down, and walk to the corners where we look out of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. There are seven thousand students on campus but we don’t see anybody. The corner alcoves fit just two people.

by Veronica Nicholson on July 5, 2014July 5, 2014

Strangers on the Web

Facebook has become a warzone. With chilling precision, its creators and monitors have begun a deadly campaign against the Princeton community’s most beloved pages. Though Tiger Matchmakers, Tiger Back-Handed Compliments, Tiger Creepers, and Tiger Microaggressions have somehow slipped under the radar, Tiger Compliments and Tiger Admirers have been brutally smothered.

by Aron Wander on July 5, 2014September 28, 2014

2D in 3D

I only knew one member of 2 Dickinson Street, the vegetarian co-op also known as 2D, when I signed up for a meal, though I didn’t know him that well. I didn’t know anyone from my year joining next year, as my friends and I had all joined clubs or went independent.

by Veronica Nicholson on April 26, 2014April 27, 2014

Sunday Funday

We tend to moralize casually on the walk to dinner, and we’re all the more biting for it. “There’s something tragic in it, really…” a friend offered, trailing off. She spoke softly to me, but also to them, the “bright and tight,” as they stumbled back to campus on our narrow shared way.

by Tyler Coulton on April 19, 2014April 27, 2014

The Girls in Charge of the Old Boys’ Clubs

The Ivy membership has gathered in the library. One by one, they choose who will fill the positions on the club’s officer board: they elect a male president, a male vice-president, a female bicker chair, and a male social chair. One more position remains: house manager.

by Susannah Sharpless on April 19, 2014April 27, 2014

Angie

The smell hits her first. It’s rancid, stale, and strong, and, as Angela Hodgeman enters the sophomore’s single dorm room, she sees the mason jars. They are everywhere—stuffed under the Twin XL standard issue bed, packed onto the birch wood windowsill, spilling out of the walk-in closet. And, they are full of urine.

by Brian Lax on April 12, 2014September 30, 2017

Marijuana and Its Discontents

Recently, the Daily Princetonian reported that a senior had been arrested for possession of marijuana and prescription drugs. In the article, the arrested student was named, meaning that his legal troubles are now fully Google-able.

by Elliott Eglash on April 6, 2014April 12, 2014

The Great Debate

President Christopher Eisgruber is reclining in the middle seat of a long table, looking as relaxed as I’ve seen him and wearing a mortarboard with an impressive tassle. Famed history professor Julian Zelizer is here too, sitting with famed improviser Adam Mastroianni ’14, so already the fame count in the room is too high for my personal comfort

by Sophie Parker-Rees on March 30, 2014March 30, 2014

Tales of a Non-Jewish Chabadnik

“Come to Chabad for dinner with me and Hannie tonight!” It’s early in October when my roommate, Molly, makes the invitation. In my ignorance, I thought she was just pronouncing “Shabbat” differently and that we’d be going to the CJL for dinner.

by Catalina Trigo on March 30, 2014April 18, 2014

Play It Again, Sam

They are the prophets of unwanted gaiety, the minstrels of midnight madness—they are the piano players of Frist, and I hereby appoint myself their public defense.

by Aron Wander on March 8, 2014March 8, 2014

Invisible Fratter

“Master Race! Master Race!” chanted my drunken Aryan friends. The “Beer Olympics” had seemed like a great idea; what better way to build camaraderie amongst brothers than to engage in the spirit of competition, and to do it while getting shitfaced?

by M.F. Ellison on March 8, 2014March 8, 2014

Note to Self

Remember this: it was 1 am and you stumbled through slush, which was stained red by the clay gravel of Prospect Avenue. Somehow you ended up alone, which I think happens to everyone at least once, and which meant you … Read More

by E. Mott on February 22, 2014July 24, 2019


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