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I am, more often than not, guilty of inconsistent participation in class discussions. I tend to sit quietly, sometimes with questions brewing in my mind that I do not deem worthy enough of being verbally articulated or just completely tuned out from the entire conversation, lost in my own mental meanderings.
Last Friday, I was sitting on the
carpeted floor of Cooper Dining Hall with a small circle of friends.
Recently, in one of my classes, a
question was raised on why humans, regardless of time and culture, have always
wondered about and been preoccupied with the very same existential questions
Red and yellow leaves are starting to populate the sidewalks. My wooly socks are officially no longer confined to storage bins.
It seems like I am always surrounded by books. Books in my personal library that are waiting to be read.
Many of our friends are leaving this year. April, as it does each spring, comes in a sudden manner, bringing its blooming cherry blossoms seemingly overnight.
Rays of sunshine enter my living room early in the morning. It looks like it is going to be another sunny, warm day outside.
In recent years, the phrase instant gratification is being used more in daily speech rather than as simply a term within the usual spheres of psychological science.
About 213 years ago, on this day, New Jersey became the last Northern state to officially abolish slavery.
By the time this article will be published, a massive protest on the College Avenue campus will have taken place.
Everything I love seems to perish. This may come off as a rather morbid statement but upon closer inspection, there may lie some glimmers of truth.
I was leaving the interfaith meditation room located on the lower floor of the College Avenue Student Center when something scribbled on the wall adjacent to the room’s entrance caught my attention.
I was probably the the last person on campus to learn about the results of the election.
I take a sip of my third cup of tea for the day.
It was early morning as I strode across campus surrounded by groggy students making their way to their 8 a.m.
“April is the cruellest month,” declared T.S. Eliot nearly a century ago.
Often times I am asked, “What do Muslims believe in?” Now, my lips could automate back an answer like a drill, but I am usually inclined to respond instead with another question: What do you mean by “Muslim?”
I used to be in the habit of checking 10 different news websites as soon as I woke up — a method of staying updated with the world as I would argue to myself. The Internet, newspapers and television were happy to oblige and continue their supply of rage-inducing headlines.
The demise of the “student” must surely be near when education is now defined as a “purchase.” Indeed, this definition is merely a signpost of the problem's deeper roots.