Princeton had a tough reputation at my high school. The “artsier” kids that my high school attracted were thrown off by Princeton’s history and the conservatism surrounding it. They thought of Princeton as stuck in the 1920’s and chose instead to go to colleges where pastel colored hair and stick and poke tattoos were considered more acceptable. I never really thought of myself as “artsy” or performative in the way that my school leaned, but I was turned off by the generally repressive reputation of Princeton as the “conservative” Ivy when compared to the attractive schools like Yale or Brown. When visiting Princeton during the fall of my senior year, I sought out signs confirming this conservative character. My friend, who was a freshman, told me that generally, the students were not similar to those at our progressive Brooklyn school, but that I should go with him to this meeting at 5, which he described as a “meme”. So, at 5pm, in the dark, cramped basement of Bloomberg Hall, I attended a Nassau Weekly meeting. Sprawled amongst plush and oddly stained couches, we were asked to go around the room and introduce ourselves by saying our name, grade and how our life would be narrated. I was intimidated by the zany answers that were seemingly effortless and the fact that I would have to say “Prospective Student”, but was eased by somewhat effusive laughs after citing David Attenborough as my narrator. The Nass completely defied what I thought Princeton students would be. The Nass felt carefree and thoughtful, an open space for people to discuss things with zero boundaries, whether it was Princeton specific, or a personal essay on their fake bar mitzvah or maybe even speculative fiction on Elon Musk and Grimes’ relationship. I was attracted to this accepting community, a space for anyone to express themselves and their thoughts beyond pure academics. Now, as a bona fide Princeton student finishing up their freshman year, the importance of the Nass as both a space and community has been fixed in my Princeton life. It is reassuring to know that every Monday and Thursday at 5pm, I have people and a place to both listen and be heard.