Category: Reflections

Telescoping Faith

In the succeeding entries, we telescope “faith,” a word with a variety of connotations. Join us in considering “faith,” its soaring capacities, and its particular and personal ones.

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Nass Memories

“I cannot do justice to the absolute force for good the Nassau Weekly was and is in my life.”

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A Mysterious De-Personing

“More than a few miles from home, I conclude this first sliver of college convinced of the notion that I’m more fiction than fact. Now more than ever, I feel like a character, and not a good one.”

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Leaving A Trace

Every muscle in my body tensed, and a knotted cocktail of fear and nerves pushed my stomach up into my chest. I wasn’t there to make a scene, but I prepared to transition to a sprint at a moment’s notice. I tried vainly to resist making eye contact, but neither of us could resist the strange magnetism of the other’s presence.

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Reflecting on Leaving Meaning

A review of the most recent Swans album.

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I Think Therefore I Am Tolerant

Recently, a friend was telling me how a certain musical artist had entranced him with her talent—until he found out she was very religious and thanks God for her success. My friend considers himself liberal and advocates for the rights of women, racial minorities, and the LGBT community—yet, for him, religion elicits a “bad taste in [his] mouth.”

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The Short, Implanted Grass

The first time I met Leah, she was reading an evolutionary biology textbook in a tree in the Mathey courtyard. As the weather grew warmer in the spring, I began to see her there almost constantly. One day, I decided to overcome my aversion to aerated New Jersey soil and sharp acorns, and joined her reading session.

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Lessons From a Borrowed Home

Reflecting on the protests in Hong Kong.

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8 Vignettes on Emotion

Trying to put the background noise on mute.

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I’m (Not) Sorry for Your Loss

Mourning and moving forward at Princeton.

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Lawn Parties and The Gentle Wisdom of a Hardcore Punk

A rumination on the dos and don’ts of moshing.

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Homeward Bound

As of last year, I have lost my status as a permanent resident of New York City. I have in many ways become a stranger to the concrete jungle that taught me that the world contained more than my five-person family and two-bedroom apartment located in the scenic neighborhood of Parkchester, centered in the middle of the Bronx, a borough known for little more than its poverty and baseball team.

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