I like to ask long-term couples where and how they met—always a good remedy to a boring conversation. My best friend met his wife through friends. After the second date, they knew they were going to get married.
Given Princeton’s academic rigor, I am appalled to see that it lacks any formal instruction in my divine art. Rather than forcing tomorrow’s brightest minds to learn my science on the streets, I have resolved to outline a few basic principles.
I didn’t plan on writing this article. When the weekend started, I was really annoyed that I had a ten-page paper hanging over my head, and I had to spend most of my time all the way down at West Windsor fields for the Ivy League Rugby Tournament.
In a dramatic gesture, the Vice President for Campus Life’s Office released a proposal yesterday which outlined a plan to limit the rise in BAC inflation that has, in the eyes of some, gripped the university in recent years.
It’s coming. You can feel it in the air. The Princeton campus is seething with passion, the combination of sunlight, bikinis and intellectual over-stimulation whipping the undergraduate body into a virtual frenzy…but over what?
In April 2001, David Brooks published “The Organization Kid,” in which he typified Princeton students as absurdly busy with “self-improvement, résumé-building, and enrichment.” Brooks conceived of the whole process by which the students had become hard-working and career-oriented as organization, but this authoress’s significantly more extensive fieldwork reveals the even more interesting process of subjectification through which Organization Kids become fristified.
Frist is a place, of course. It is a campus center, opened in 2000 and enthusiastically directed by Paul Breitman, who describes Frist on its website as a “hub of activity and interactive learning at Princeton,” “an inviting, inclusive, and exciting gathering place for the entire campus community” which “takes the concept of community building to the next level.” Well, okay.