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My Yale Anti-Bucket List

I’m about to begin my last month of college. It’s terrifying, exciting and mostly insomnia-inducing.

A Desire to Be Heard

If you ever want your mind bent, try going through your Facebook history. If you don’t have a Facebook account, good job on getting into heaven.

Strawberry ice cream, and why it’s the worst

It is a truth universally acknowledged that everyone hates strawberry ice cream. “Foucault once said ‘Strawberry ice cream is the worst,’” Grace Phillips ’15 said.

Death in the Age of Facebook

Olivia and I hadn’t been particularly close and hadn’t felt any obligation to keep in touch after camp ended. But, when I came across her profile, the words “Remembering Olivia” occupied the space where just her name should have been, and I had the chilling feeling of encountering a ghost.

A Genealogy of Solitude

I am going to begin by saying something in poor taste. But I am holding out my hand to you as I say it, and I hope you will trust me.

Sexual Healing

College is widely understood to broaden one’s sexual horizons.

Pop Art

I once tried to buy an original Roy Lichtenstein at a garage sale. I was nine years old and when I asked the owner “if the piece was authentic,” he laughed for a moment before becoming deathly serious and telling me that, yes, indeed it was.

The Corpse of Fine

There is a type of Buddhist meditation that requires monks to find a corpse and meditate over its decay.

The Road to Heaven is a Two-Way Street

When I met Katie, I’d already had plenty of practice giving my friends the benefit of the doubt. Whether that meant believing something about the past, the way I did with Julia, or hoping for a glamorous future, as with Katie, I trusted in possibilities for them that I would have liked for myself.

Why Asian Americans Need to Watch “Fresh Off The Boat”

For a long time, I have passively accepted the fact that I would have to prove to others that I was more than my media representation, but with “Fresh Off The Boat” I may not longer have to. Next time, when my non-Asian friends ask what it’s like to be me, I just might tell them to watch the show instead.

Can I Get Your Number?

I discovered my superpower thanks to the Enneagram, a test that can sort anyone into one of nine personality profiles. Like the other, more famous Myers-Briggs (which basically every corporation and private school in America now uses), the Enneagram promises that we can be explained, boxed up in ostensibly unique, yet totally generalized, packages.