It happens that I now find myself about to graduate from Carleton.
This piece—my last Viewpoint—is a little different from the others in that it is a retrospective of my time here, my thoughts...
Before droves of rain-cloaked tourists attired the landscape in Land’s End reds and blues, before the destination weddings hit the waterfalls and glaciers, before the flood of images of volcanic eruptions...
The day I met J, the shaggy-haired, lanky boy sitting on the opposite side of the submarine in the lab I worked in, I knew by the way he discussed Tolkien’s invented languages, the way politeness tendriled...
Years ago, I, having read Oliver Sacks’ "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat" as well as Paul Kalanithi’s "When Becomes Air," and having thought to myself, “Hey, that seems legit,” decided...
A hand shot up in the air, grubby and painted with blue nail polish, the way kids’ hands sometimes are.
“Yes, you there,” called the old woman sent to our 5th grade class to divine our fates...
A few years ago, I went to go see a therapist because I had become depressed to the point of dysfunction. One of the critiques she gave me was that I “had perfectionism,” and this was something I...
As was the case for many of you, the terrorist attack at the Capitol last Wednesday did not surprise me. Indeed for the past couple of months, I had been ambulating about the house, murmuring, “I hope...
A week ago, I darted up the stairs to my room, in a rush to enclose myself in my space and my mind, away from the world that was my dad shouting incoherently at Chris Wallace through the barrier of the...
Not so long ago, I wrote a piece about transferring colleges twice. Two terms have passed, and I, ever the collegiate nomad, find myself in yet another situation of changing place and, consequently, changing...
I am often asked why I decided to learn Chinese, why I’m just so into it, and why I like foreign languages so much. The answer is simply that I fell into these studies arbitrarily, the result of a desire...
Mrs. Johnson
Married
Has no first name
“I was born in 18th-century Antarctica and believe me, the year, circumstances, and opinions circulating at the time of my birth are still EXTREMELY relevant...
By the time I was 18, the stars had simply never aligned in such a way as to inform me what I should major in during college, as they had, I presumed, for everyone else. No god emerged from a wine dark...
