Book exchange like dealing drugs, but legal

January 28, 2008
The year 2000 was a transition year for my entire family, and new possibility was the title theme: My brother began attending high school; my mother started teaching at a different school. My ticket to freedom came in the form of a bus pass. It was exhilarating. The city was my Metropolitan Transit Authority-aided oyster. »

Parental expectations: as restrictive as turtlenecks

January 14, 2008
I never thought of myself as a turtleneck person. I am, however, willing to admit that unlike silk-screen animal sweatshirts, it depends on the person. If you can rock a turtleneck, more power to you. It’s just not my schtik. This is why it baffles me that every Christmas since I was four, I’ve received »

When well executed, laundry switching not criminal

November 26, 2007
Mm, it’s delicious to be back. By now, you’ve taken the time to reacquaint yourself with your abode, to appreciate the absence of your parents’ endless questions about when you’re waking up or eating lunch or why you’re not studying, and the conclusion of the series of random messages from old flames that say, “Hey! »

Pretending to remember is a necessary social lubricant

November 5, 2007
Let’s paint the opening scene of this bi-week’s foray: an unspecified location on Yale campus; you’re briskly sauntering about your day and happen upon someone who seems familiar. The next five to six seconds are clutch. First, do you recognize them? Yes. Check. Do they recognize you? Unclear. Have they noticed that you are suspiciously »

Gate holding governed by simple social rules

October 22, 2007
“Dear Chick on the Fourth Floor, WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME? XOXO Kristen” Or at least that’s what I’ve thought about writing on her dry-erase board. If you think that sounds kind of creepy, it’s because it does. But I promise it makes complete sense. Allow me to explain the situation. Encounter #1: The scene: »

Yale: a lesson in your own awkwardness

October 8, 2007
I can’t deny it any longer. It’s been a year since I embarked on my momentous jaunt across Yale’s social sierra, and the conclusions are irrefutable: Yale is a mad awkward place. Heck, in its older days, Yale even had a class just for awkward people. Well, sort of. It was called “The Awkward Squad” »