Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of jhunewsletter.com - The Johns Hopkins News-Letter's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query.
1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
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.
Julian Demiri — Rusty Scupper’s General Manager — describes the origins of the Rusty Scupper in an interview with The News-Letter. When asked about Rusty Scupper’s origins, Demiri expressed a deep passion for the restaurant’s atmosphere and strong ties to Baltimore and the Inner Harbor. To him, Rusty Scupper isn’t just a restaurant, but a gathering place, a symbol of community and a testament to a Marylander’s love for seafood.
By nature of circumstance, college students are forced — for the first time in their lives, for many of them — to become serious spenders. I should clarify: serious spenders, rather than serious spenders. They must retire from free-ride public schools and low-wage part-time jobs, the biweekly paychecks which they spend in one day online shopping and paying too-high upcharges for DoorDash or other food delivery services; now, they have tuition and textbooks and Lyft rates — plus tip — going to their volunteer or shadow positions, and they’re lucky if they have the time to supplement this hemorrhagic spending with a student job or federal work study.
Allegedly, moving slowly is yet another way to calm the nervous system. I think I first came across this idea in a short-form video where a flash of text crossed the screen, hovering over an image of a person going about their day. This text would say, “slow down,” after which, the individual would be relieved of all this tension – their shoulders would drop, they would unclench their grip from the steering wheel (how they were filming while driving, I still don’t know).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“I tried to do everything right.”
Dear Janice,
With the lion of March creeping around the corner, our hearts still beating from our Valentine fever, there is no time more in need of distraction. Spring will come, and our hearts will slow, but, right now, the wind is pouring through the tunnels and over the quads, romances and friendships are tested in the bitter cold and, most importantly, our free time is nearly nonexistent.
7–Across: Pest in Ron Weasley's attic
On Feb. 21, 2025, members of the Hopkins Justice Collective (HJC) gathered outside of Gilman Hall at Keyser Quad to protest against President Donald J. Trump’s claim that the “U.S. will take over the Gaza Strip” and the University’s decline to divest its endowment from companies that have ties to Israel.
Hi Leo,
Growth is a complicated thing.
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 just a close-up of my newborn face while my mom wiggles me into a soft white onesie. When I watched it for the first time, it was a little surreal hearing her voice from another time, even if it was just her saying “bless you” and cooing after I sneezed for the first time ever.
The University is mourning the loss of Joey (Dung) Nguyen, who passed away last week. He was a junior studying International Studies at the Krieger School of Arts and Sciences. Nguyen was a member of the Debate Council, as well as the Kendo Club, Museum Club and Vietnamese Students Association.
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.
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.