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During my last week of studying abroad in Seville, Spain, I finally had the opportunity to go rowing in the canals of the Plaza de España, something I had been looking forward to for the entire semester. Even though I lived a five-minute walk away from the Plaza, I somehow hadn’t carved out the time to go rowing until the last possible moment.
Three out of four members of my family love watching Korean dramas. The one member, my father, who doesn’t like watching dramas always argues that, at the end of the day, it's fiction and we gain absolutely nothing from it except warm fuzzy feelings. Is fiction really that irrelevant?
I have been in France for just over three weeks. It’s still just the beginning of my time here, as my study abroad program runs until mid-May, but it’s incredible how much my life has changed in a few short weeks.
I am much better at buying notebooks than I am at finishing them. In fact, I have a sizable collection of half-used notebooks, journals and diaries filling my bookshelf at home and my desk drawer here in Baltimore.
The century ride. 100 miles, straight. It’s a milestone that many cyclists hit at one point in their lifetime. However, as an amateur cyclist only two years into the sport, I never thought I would hit the milestone so soon.
On Dec. 31, I laid in my bed and typed out all my New Year's resolutions. I had spent nearly thirty minutes looking for my journal — all to no avail — so my notes app had to do.
I cut twelve inches of my hair off a couple of weeks ago. Well, not intentionally. I walked in to the salon, said that I wanted it as short as it could be without my resembling Dora and thought I was going to get a chic Vanessa Hudgens bob out of it.
I dread winter. Snow-covered street lamps and snowflakes are anything but beautiful to me — the snow has always had a habit of dampening my clothes just enough to intensify the bitterness of the air until it is maddening. And, rather than declare the season of joy and fellowship, Christmas lights have only signified a time of frozen extremities and suffocating layers of clothing.
2022: a year that everyone looked forward to after COVID-19. Leading up to this year, I made a list of things I wanted to do, and like most other people, only ended up opening it once or twice throughout the year. Now when I look back, I realize 2022 had totally different plans for me than I originally thought.
“When did the year 2022 fly by?”
So, where’s your hometown? It’s one of the most typical and easy conversation-starting questions. Yet, it can be a hard stump for someone with a multicultural, multi-regional background.
“What is your biggest fear?”
“Hey, you! Can I be your sugar daddy?”
I spent most of my freshman and sophomore years weighed down by a constant sense of tiredness in my bones. But that was to be expected since I woke up at 5:30 a.m. three times a week to jump into a cold pool.
When I interviewed at a medical school earlier this year, I felt the interview had gone okay.
I am preparing to study abroad next semester. So far, this has mainly consisted of curating a new wardrobe on Pinterest, applying for a visa and — on a sadder note — grappling with the knowledge that this would be my last semester with many of my best friends at Hopkins.
My mom was younger than I am now when she moved from Brazil to the United States.
For most of middle school and high school, I thought I was going to be a doctor.
“Do you think you can see the wall from outer space?”
This Halloween weekend was spooky, for lack of a better term (there are definitely better terms to start this installment of our column off with — we just don’t know them).