Catch 22
An Ode to Harvard
I first arrived at Harvard not knowing if I wanted to be here at all. Unlike many accepted students, Harvard had never been my dream. Growing up, I saw myself attending Georgetown, living in Washington, D.C., and perhaps one day working as a speechwriter for a political campaign. But when my Harvard acceptance arrived, everything changed. Like many students, I felt that the offer was too good to pass up. I knew that if I didn’t attend Harvard, I would spend the rest of my life qualifying every conversation or job interview with the fact that I had been accepted, but turned the offer down.
After arriving on Harvard’s campus, I immediately regretted my decision. I felt out-of-place, intellectually inferior, and discouraged when my interests didn’t align with any of the new friends I had made. A few months into freshman year, I considered transferring to Georgetown. I missed the comfort of the small Catholic community in which I had grown up, where “Republican” had a positive connotation, and where everyone looked the same and held the same beliefs as I did.
‘Til Death Do Us Part
We’ve all heard the statistics: Nearly half of first marriages end in divorce, women tend to be less happy in their marriages than men, bad marriages lead to heart disease, and more. In fact, we’ve become so familiar with this scientific discourse that it seems these statistics have led to another: According to the Pew Research Center, 25 percent of millennials will "never get married."
Although I’m skeptical to believe every “new study” I hear about the status of modern relationships, this one seems to be strikingly reflected in my own peer circles. Now more than ever, I hear friends happily discussing their rejection of marriage, and even poking fun at it through “group marriage” themed parties.
In Da Club
Imagine you’re a woman. It’s a Friday night, and you and your friends decide that the bass-bumping, adrenaline-pumping, mind-numbing atmosphere of the nightclub is the perfect catharsis from a workweek riddled with stress and anxiety.
You spend an hour getting ready. You put together an outfit in which you feel beautiful and confident. Before leaving, you slide into your most comfortable pair of heels to provide for maximum dancing stamina, and sling an extra hair tie around your wrist for the inevitable moment when the steam of the dance floor turns your hair into a untamed, frizzy mess. You feel excited, energetic, and empowered.
Guiltless Pleasures
For most Harvard students, last night was a night like any other involving late night coffee runs, treks to Lamont to study for midterms, and dashes through the cold to make it to a meeting on time. For me, however, Monday night marked the culmination of a narrative in which I have had a profoundly vested interest over the past few months. It was the season finale of ABC’s The Bachelor.
Even as I write the words, I’ve already begun to feel my cheeks flush. Being an avid Bachelor fan hasn’t exactly been a source of pride throughout my college career. I’m often tempted to conceal my interest in the show from all but my closest friends at Harvard—firstly because I’m worried people will be concerned by how deep my investment lies, but primarily because I’m ashamed of what people will think.
A Message To Young Voters
As whispers about the 2016 presidential nominees build to a crescendo, it’s only a matter of time before we’ve solidified our candidates for the next election. During the final stages of a presidency whose promise of hope continues to dwindle, Americans have already started to look to potential nominees to rejuvenate their trust in the power of the POTUS. But with a number of recognizable names swirling around the political stratosphere, 2016 already portends to be an uncomfortable dose of déjà vu. With Hillary Clinton and yet another Bush being cited as top contenders alongside familiar names such as Christie, Biden, Perry, and Santorum, the 2016 election appears to be a second go-round for past hopefuls, lacking in fresh faces or opinions.
What I fear most for 2016, however, isn’t the recycling of candidates. It’s the recycling of cheap party politics. As exciting as an upcoming presidential election can be, there is nothing more irksome than when concrete issues are overshadowed by the same banal banter, the same left-right divide that turns candidates into caricatures.