Although I am the furthest from a morning person you’ll ever meet, I registered for an English class called Morning Pages, which, on top of being a 9 a.m., mandates two pages of writing—you guessed it—every single morning. It’s made my dreams much more vivid, given me (or cursed me with) thirty ...
By coincidence, every time I sit down to write a post- article, I happen to be next to my seventh-grade best friend who is the only one from home who went as far from home as me—selfishly, I dragged him to NYU when I knew I wanted to go to Brown—and we always happen to be in a coffee shop, him studying ...
In my creative nonfiction class, we were asked to read Notes of a Native Speaker by Eric Liu. He starts the essay with a laundry list of declarations and negations, saying, “Here are some of the ways you could say I am ‘white.’” It made me wonder which identity everything in my life spun around—which ...
The stage lights switch on. The pit plays its first notes, and the audience goes quiet.
There’s something sweet in the air. It usually hits me at night on the walk back from North Campus, right between Wriston and Keeney. Each time, I’m left disoriented, unable to keep walking. It’s a green, sharp, scent–one of freshly mowed grass, sweat, clear sky, crisp morning air. It’s youthful—gentle, ...
Solutions by The State News
