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Madame Mademoiselle

In those lazy summers of five or six years ago, when every morning we awoke together ready to take on the backyard, we favored one in particular. I wrote a description of that game, Madame Mademoiselle, in my college application essay. My sister watched me compose the first draft.

Emily B. Zauzmer '18

Why I Keep Up with the Kardashians

I am fascinated by celebrities and the pop cultural sphere that they inhabit. I spend my free time combing through Twitter to read the musings of my favorite stars and devouring every word of entertainment news articles to learn about the goings-on of B-list actors. No tweet is too inane to spark my curiosity (I’m looking at you, Jaden Smith). No article is too obscure to merit my interest (seriously, I just read an article about the fashion ambitions of Sadie Robertson of “Duck Dynasty”).


This Might Get Cheesy

A Culver’s in its natural environment, though, is always found in Wisconsin. On the side of any highway, framed by scrubby trees, you’re bound to spot the navy blue oval of a Culver’s sign, that beacon leading to squeaky cheese with a crispy, hot outer crust and served with cups of shamelessly fatty frozen custard.


Smashing, Baby

Smash has always been around: In elementary and middle school, I played, but in high school I stopped. In hindsight I notice the unsettling correlation between the exit of Smash from my life, and the entrance of the thesis statement into it. Life became a bit realer, a bit less fantastical. I couldn’t cite Wikipedia anymore.


Four Dollar Wine Critic

Is Valentine’s Day a tool of biopolitical social control?


Portrait of an Ivy League Crush

Hyper-extroverted and exceedingly interesting, charmingly awkward and theatrical to a fault, Chase was a veritable bundle of energy who thrived on captivating an audience.

Student Life

Regarding My Future Unemployment

Dear extended relatives, family friends, former English teachers, gynecologists, and my brother’s roommates and their extended relatives, I am very tired of answering the same questions about my future, over and over. And I know, for the most part, you have only been asking to be polite, to make conversation, or so that you can compare me to your daughter (she wins, okay, she wins!). So to streamline the process I have compiled a list of the most commonly asked questions (and their answers) about my future and career goals.

Student Life

J-Term Journal: Tokyo International Airport

Why do people fall out of love? I write that in my notebook at Tokyo Haneda International Airport. It’s a lofty question to be asking myself at 6:00 a.m., when, beyond the concrete slabs of runway, a city is just beginning to wake up.

J Term

J-Term Journal: On the South, Social Innovation, and Slam Poetry

After finals ended, I was ready for a break from Harvard. I packed my bags and boarded a plane back to Georgia, the place that for eight years I had called home. I was ready to celebrate the holidays, spend quality time with family and friends, and catch up on sleep without worrying about looming deadlines for papers, psets, or tests.

Student Life

FM Editor's Note

This is the way FM ends. Not with a bang, but with 15. It’s also not the real end, but just the end for this year. We still have our Superboard keys. Steven S. Lee, you’re not reading this—and if you are, it’s because you Googled your own name. Touché.

Lena K. Felton '17

The Science of Memory

I used to think that the best kinds of memories are the ones we invent for ourselves.

Marco A. Torres '17

I Read A Lot

In middle school I had a free period during my second hour, and so I applied to become a library assistant.

Colton A. Valentine

PLUR As Told By Heidegger

Chances are if you’re reading The Harvard Crimson, you’ve never heard of Peace Love Unity Respect. The acronym is a silly combination of sounds—a feline’s pleasure with an extra letter snuck in—and the cliché it stands for wouldn't last a minute in college classrooms. But since the ’90s, PLUR’s been a credo and a life philosophy for rave subculture. This summer it became my personal mantra. This fall I’ve decided it was Friedrich Nietzsche and Martin Heidegger’s as well.


Coordinates: Locked in Mount Auburn Cemetery

It’s mid-fall. The leaves are somewhere between dull brown and brutally orange on the last afternoon that it is not too crisp to walk by the river. We wile our way down past Darwin’s, the coffee shop we have yet to discover; across the crosswalk with the lights that never change to walk; and next to an unending row of fencing and hedges. The cemetery is still open for an hour this late in the day…is it six or seven?

Ege Yumusak '16

Doubt It

There are only a few things, less than I imagined there would be, from my pre-college years that remain present in my thoughts. I have lost interest in the chaos of my city, Istanbul, in the “mosaic” of its culture, in the nebulous (substitute: sketchy) politics of my country. Only a few characters from my past follow me around Harvard Yard as I pace from the two opposite edges (and intellectual spheres) of the campus, from Northwest Labs to Emerson Hall.

9/11 Memorial

Boots on the Ground: ROTC at Harvard

Kaledora Kiernan-Linn

The Dropouts

Snow on Plympton

More Snow Looming, College Alters Dining Schedule

Divest Harvard Rally
Central Administration

After 24-Hour Sit-In, Divest Harvard Protesters Leave Mass. Hall