I thought I understood the general order of Lawnparties: live music, free food, and somewhat unsettling numbers of drunken upperclassmen at ten o’clock in the morning. When a roommate first let me in on the “preppy” dress code, however, the tradition struck me as strange. While I knew Princeton was widely considered to be among the “preppiest” of the Ivies, the label had always held a negative connotation to me, and I puzzled as to why students would actively work to perpetuate that stereotype.
by Kat Kulke on
Lily Gellman, a freshman, is one of fifty students who auditioned for Ellipses, Princeton’s slam poetry team, this fall. Gellman, who became involved in spoken word during her senior year of high school, hoped to continue to hone her passion for spoken word at Princeton and was excited to discover a slam team on campus.
by Kat Kulke on
Wu Hall’s Matthew T. Mellon Library is one of the quaintest and most secluded study spaces on the Princeton campus. The “library” in its name is slightly misleading, given that Mellon does not actually hold any books, only a printer, a few tables, and a series of back-to-back wooden cubicles for high-power cramming.
by Kat Kulke on
Ever since the giddy, popcorn and T. Swift-fueled “Truth” games of seventh grade slumber parties, those two words have become a default response to countless puzzled male faces. From Sex and the City to Gossip Girl, generations of chick flicks and girl-power soap operas reinforce the idea that no crush, no kiss, and no hook up, no matter how “casual” or “on the D-L,” is to be withheld from a girl’s close circle.
by Kat Kulke on
When Facebook expanded its gender options early this February, many users were finally able to represent themselves authentically to the online community. The popular social network, which had previously required users to list themselves as either male or female, added a new “custom” gender option to accommodate individuals who do not identify with the traditional gender binary.
by Kat Kulke on
When I walked into the women’s locker room at Dillon gym earlier this week, I noticed a poster that made me bite my lip. Tacked up between weekly fitness schedules, the sign grabbed my attention with the headline: “The weight is over.” The line, I thought, could have been pulled from a diet product ad—Sensa, maybe, or Alli. It was the sort of cheesy slogan you see on caffeine-and-diuretic “supplements” at CVS.
by Kat Kulke on
“Always be happy, never be content.” Etched in pavement just a few steps from my dorm, the inscription never fails to draw my attention. I’ve always read it as a testament to Princeton’s hard-driving academic ethos: a reminder to students to always keep striving, never to cease pushing themselves to achieve.
by Kat Kulke on
“What is that thing?” I watched in confusion as Anna exhaled a thin stream of what looked like smoke into the cramped air of her bedroom. With only a few weeks left in our senior year, we had spent the afternoon trading high school reflections and speculating about the mysteries of college, now only months away. Real schoolwork and the anxieties of the application process now behind us, these last months of spring had begun to feel like a sort of limbo, a time of licensed aimlessness before the fall brought new routines.
by Kat Kulke on
It is after six o-clock pm, and the aisles of Shaw’s are bustling with last-minute dinner shoppers. Dodging throngs of gym-clothed soccer moms, I make for the produce section, unsure whether I’ll find “fresh ginger root” in a supermarket stocked … Read More
by Kat Kulke on
As I walked into Wu dining hall a few weeks ago, a new poster caught my eye: “Works for Teach for America,” the ad read, “Has never graded a paper.”
by Kat Kulke on
When one freshman sat down with the dean of her residential college last winter to discuss a medical leave, she was not expecting to spend the next eight months at home.
by Kat Kulke on
When the Daily Princetonian announced, on October 6, that grade deflation was “dead,” campus remained oddly quiet. There was no cheering, no laughing or dancing or popping of screw-top champagne.
by Kat Kulke on