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Joke, Science & Technology

Shrimp do not see a kaleidoscope of colours, they are just really stupid

by Daria Kiseleva on

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This article was taken from The Seahorse Report, an undersea publication run by seahorses.

The Seahorse Report

Mantis shrimp have long claimed that their visual processing capabilities outshine those of all other sea creatures. They have had us sea dwellers and our human overlords wrapped around their claws for a while, but the light of science has at last exposed their dirty little secret.

Cone photoreceptors are molecules in the retina which respond to specific wavelengths of light and allow for colour vision. Since human scientists confirmed that shrimp have 12 colour cone photoreceptors, as opposed to humans who only have three, it has been accepted with reverence that shrimp see all combinations of these 12 colours—beholding the world on a higher vibration than the rest of us sea-dwellers. Long-time readers of the Seahorse Report may remember many guest pieces written by shrimp bragging about how much acclaim they received in the human world—from pretentious Tumblr hipsters to opportunistic aquarium museum marketers. Shrimp’s big talk about novel colours they ostensibly saw, like ‘yellow 7’ and ‘purple 13,’ has also been widely publicized. 

You may be wondering—aren’t 12 photoreceptors a bit over-krill? As a humiliating 2014 study by human researchers from the University of Queensland and National Cheng Kung University confirms, mantis shrimp do not have 12-dimensional vision. Shrimp have been playing 12-dimensional chess trying to suppress this knowledge from reaching the marine community. The Seahorse Report finally brings you the truth: These simpletons can only see 12 colours. Total.  

When shrimp were tested on their ability to tell two colours apart, they performed surprisingly poorly, only recognizing a difference between colours with a large gap in wavelengths. Basically, they could only see 12 colours and were unable to differentiate between shades 25 nanometres apart. That is all their puny invertebrate brains are capable of.  

Members of the marine community were not impressed.

“I have long suspected that something was off when I was seeking an intellectually stimulating play-partner and invited a group of shrimp to race through some coral reef mazes together,” Octopus Rex said. “The blank look in their eyes told me everything I needed to know.”

Sympathetic perspectives seemed to only come with ulterior motives.

“There are no limits to the possibilities of consciousness,” Orca said, cleaning her teeth with her tongue. “The fragmented vision of shrimp is surely a psychosomatic symptom of the fragmentation of their spiritual being. To evolve their vision they need to do some serious meditation, get in tune with their astrological charts, and perhaps try some essential oils. I offer my services for free and will personally guide each and every shrimp on their way to enlightenment, and fuller vision. They know where to find me, no appointment needed.”  

Even on land, where they are turned into cooking stock for paellas and risottos, shrimp have become a laughing stock.

“Wow shrimp,” whistled Shiba Inu hysterically. “Such powerful brain, much ability!”

“After an all-nighter of painting my senior project, I think I can also only see 12 colours,” grumbled Owl, U2 Arts. “Maybe it should be a proper term – shrimped.”

We sent the shrimp a letter requesting comment, but they may have struggled to distinguish the colour of the paper from the colour of the ink.

Shrimp have shown that they are prawn to deceit. Your loyal servants at the Seahorse Report are gifted with the truly impressive ability to move our own eyes independently in all directions and use them to keep watch for any marine malarky.  

Joke, Sports

The ‘Tribune’ wins ‘Best Sports Section’ at McGill Journalism Awards

by Zoe Babad-Palmer on

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This weekend, The McGill Tribune was presented with the award for “Best Sports Section” at the first annual McGill Journalism Awards ceremony. The awards, which are voted on by a committee of McGill students, administrators, and random bystanders plucked off the street by Roddick Gates, were held in a closed ceremony over Zoom. While all publications were welcome to enter the ceremony, the Tribune was the sole publication eligible for the award, as it had the only active sports section on campus.

Attendees reported that the night was a great success, and the commemorative red carpet Zoom background was appreciated by all. Winners were awarded a golden Marty the Martlet bobblehead trophy and three expired OAP drink tickets.

The Tribune’s sports section was chosen based on its history of heavy-hitting journalism and ground-breaking key McGill sports stories, such as a racy tell-all interview with Marty, an inside look at Fight Club, and a daring exposé on the monster in the labyrinthine halls of Tomlinson Hall. These three articles were unfortunately never published for fear that the public was not yet ready for such daring journalism.

Other notable stories include inquiries into whether students know that McGill has sports teams, regular predictions of why this season will finally be the Montreal Canadiens’ year, and frequent retrospectives on why the team collapsed halfway through December. 

The Tribune beat out stiff competition, such as the McGill Athletics department’s press releases. Many were shocked that the section prospered through a year of virtually no sports content. Nonetheless, sheer, raw will powered the humble section, saving it from COVID-onset discontinuation.

“I really never would have guessed we would win such a prestigious award,” said famed Sports Editor Farah Sarnand. “There were so many great candidates. I’d like to thank my parents, the McGill Hotdog Man, and the guy who sneezed on me in Leacock 132 for making me the proud McGillian I am today.”

Students were eager to discuss why they happily choose the Tribune for all their McGill sports needs. 

“My roommate writes for it,” one student said during the Zoom afterparty that followed the ceremony. “She won’t do the dishes until I read her articles every week.”

Many were quick to remark the sheer notoriety of the section. After all, celebrities like famed athlete Dick Pound have been flooding the section’s emails for an opportunity to be interviewed. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s the only sports section on campus,” another student said on Zoom. 

Some students recalled the excitement that arose when rooting for their home team. 

“I’m a big fan of McGill Athletics,” a third student remarked. “I always go to Carnival to see my friends and to root for the […] Cardinals? Robins? What’s the team name again?”

Other categories and victors at the ceremony included @rvc_caf_updates for “Best Food Section,” r/McGill for “Best Advice Section,” and The McGill Nightly for “Best News Section.”

Student Life

Wine(ing) about McGill: Cocktails, mocktails, and more

by Holly Wethey on

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With warmer weather coming our way, nostalgia for the McGill campus and the now-distant era of OAP is officially setting in. This week, The McGill Tribune has compiled a list of some signature McGill mixed drinks™ to help you reminisce about the good old days.

Big Suze Seltzer

Who doesn’t love a good seltzer? Since we have an even slimmer chance of running into our principal on campus than usual, we can instead enjoy this drink with her face on it to recreate the experience. 

Bonus: Take a shot if you notice that Big Suze winks at you.

OAPale Ale

Inspired by McGill University Poll Party, this drink replicates that anticipatory feeling of spending two hours in line for OAP only to find out that all they have left is Guinness beer.

Martletini

If you’re missing the sweaty smell of McGill sporting events, we’ve got you covered with this easy alternative! Start with 200 mL of Blue Ribbon, and then add a few shots of sweat. As a bonus, garnish with a couple of strands of fake grass from any nearby sports stadium. Extra points if you put your drink in a thermos and disguise it as tea to reproduce the thrill of sneaking it into the stadium.

Budd(le) Light

Though it’s impossible to truly capture the warm comfort of Buddle’s Instagram series—our only link to McGill news in the early days of the pandemic—sipping a Budd(le) Light is a source of comfort. Any Bud Light from your nearest depanneur can easily be transformed into a Budd(le) Light if enjoyed while wearing a classic Buddle Pageboy hat™.

Department Wine and Cheese Cabernet Sauvignon

You don’t have to break the bank to replicate this drink; simply drop by Provigo and pick up a $6 boxed wine. To further replicate the experience of the Classics Department Wine and cheese that your roommate took you to, try sipping it with a slice of vegan cheese—the only kind that’s ever left by the time you arrive.

Molson (Stadium)

For students missing in-person exams, this nostalgic drink can be whipped up in a few quick steps. Begin by pouring about 150 ml of Red Bull into a glass and adding a few shots of Vitamin Water to taste. Top it off with some of the eraser dust and tears that can always be found on the exam table when you begin. Finally, consume your drink on a wobbly table for a more authentic exam experience.

Samosas and Mimosas

This combo from the days of BdA will allow you to enjoy a classic drink while commemorating the glory days of our beloved samosas. To accurately match the event’s ambience, try spilling some beer on your kitchen floor and letting it dry to achieve maximum stickiness.

Science & Technology

Interstellar travel: Sending tiny spacecrafts to the stars

by Youssef Wahba on

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Exploring what lies in the expanse of our universe has always been a topic of interest for scientists and engineers. This curiosity has shaped the field of space exploration and propelled nations to send astronauts to explore the cosmos. 

Experiments enacted beyond the confines of our planet have yielded a plethora of scientific theories, including Galileo’s law of free fall—which was eventually proven correct by the famed hammer and feather experiment on the moon. 

Although all crewed and uncrewed space expeditions were interplanetary missions that have taken place within the bounds of the solar system, the recent exponential surge in technological developments will allow scientists to explore other stars and planetary systems. One such mission could bring us to Proxima Centauri—the second-nearest star to Earth after the sun and one of three stars in the Alpha Centauri stellar system—located around 4.24 light-years, or 9.5 trillion kilometres, away from Earth.

“Proxima Centauri is only 12 [per cent] the mass of the sun, and much more dense,” Dr. Kirsten Dage, a postdoctoral fellow at the McGill Space Institute, wrote in an email to The McGill Tribune. “It’s also more magnetically active and so even though it is a lot smaller, it can have increased X-ray flaring activity that gets as bright in X-rays as the Sun. The good news is that even though it is smaller than the Sun, it uses up less of its fuel and will have a longer lifetime.” 

In 2015, cosmologist Philip Lubin proposed the idea of using a powerful laser to accelerate a tiny spacecraft, weighing only a few grams, to 20 per cent of the speed of light. A few months later, Israeli-Russian billionaire Yuri Milner donated 100 million USD to fund Lubin’s project, and Stephen Hawking endorsed the idea as well. The project, called Breakthrough Starshot, aims to send a nanocraft to Alpha Centauri. 

Just as boats need a sail for cruising, the proposed nanocraft will be equipped with a lightsail just a few atoms thick. It will also carry a SpaceChip the size of a postage stamp that will bear cameras, photon laser thrusters to propel the craft, communication equipment, and a power supply. Due to the wave-particle duality of light, photons possess the energy and momentum to power the spacecraft’s journey to Alpha Centauri. 

Lubin, a professor in the Department of Physics at UC Santa Barbara and director of the UCSB Experimental Cosmology Laboratory, explained how the nanocraft travels.

“Light (directed energy) carries energy and momentum,” Lubin wrote in an email to the  Tribune. “The light from a large laser array is directed at a reflector that reflects light and thus is pushed forward. It is like using water from a hose to push a ‘beach ball’ forward. The directed energy system is not on the spacecraft but is back home (Earth, Orbit-based or lunar-based, for example).”

Designing a spacecraft that will travel 4.24 light-years during our lifetime is a daunting task, but Lubin explains that new technologies are in the works.

“If we want to get to the nearest star systems in the span of a human lifetime, we have to achieve speeds vastly higher than are currently possible with chemical propulsion,” Lubin wrote. “This requires new propulsion technologies. There are only two technologies capable of achieving the speed required. These are matter-antimatter propulsion [and] directed energy (light) propulsion. Our NASA and Breakthrough programs are focussed on the second approach, namely using large-scale directed energy or light itself to propel spacecrafts at speeds that are above 10 per cent [of] the speed of light.”

Since the nanocraft requires immense energy to travel between stars, an array of lasers on Earth is needed to propel it. The various beams from the Earth-based array will merge to form one highly energetic laser beam that has enough power to accelerate the spacecraft to between 10 and 20 per cent of the speed of light, allowing it to reach Proxima Centauri in under three decades. If a spacecraft travelled at these speeds to Mars, it would arrive in a mere three days. 

In 1977, NASA launched two space probes—Voyagers 1 and 2—to study Jupiter, Saturn, and the largest moons of both planets. After taking photographs of these planets, the probes continued past the boundaries of the heliosphere and became the first two probes to enter interstellar space. 

Avi Loeb, who serves as the chair of the Breakthrough Starshot Advisory Committee, is also a New York Times best-selling author of Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth and the Frank B. Baird Jr. Professor of Science at Harvard University.

“It would take conventional rockets (like Voyager 1 and 2 and New Horizons) about 50,000 years to reach the nearest star, Proxima Centauri,”  Loeb wrote in an email to the Tribune. “It should have been sent around the time when humans left Africa in order to get there today.”’

According to Dr. Andrew Higgins, a professor in McGill’s Department of Mechanical Engineering and the principal investigator of the experimental research group ‘McGill Interstellar Flight,’ the nanocraft’s lightsail must be made from durable materials capable of travelling light-years to reach Alpha Centauri.

“A promising material is dielectrics: An example of a dielectric is glass, and the glass used in fiber optics is a very promising candidate,” Higgins wrote in an email to the Tribune. “You don’t normally think of glass as reflective but layers of glass of different types can be combined together to make a very reflective mirror. The sail should have a very low absorption of the laser light. This is even more important than high reflectivity. If the sail were to absorb even a fraction of a percent of the laser light incident upon it, it would vaporize!”

In the 1970s, American astronomer Carl Sagan talked about the prospect of developing a spacecraft known as a Solar Sail that would use energy from sunlight to propel itself. Decades later, in 2010, IKAROS became the first spacecraft to employ this technology.

“Solar sails use the photons—particles of light—from the sun to propel a spacecraft without using propellant or onboard energy,” Higgins wrote. “An extreme solar sail that starts very near the sun might be able to get to one per cent of the speed of light, but at that speed, it would take 400 years to reach Proxima Centauri.” 

In Christopher Nolan’s science fiction movie Interstellar (2014), Earth has undergone a climate crisis, leaving humanity on the brink of extinction. The main characters embark on a quest in search of a habitable planet outside of the solar system. With the Breakthrough Starshot, such expeditions may soon become a reality.

The exoplanet, Proxima Centauri b, takes 11 Earth days to orbit the dwarf star Proxima Centauri. Future interstellar missions will provide scientists with more information on the geographical composition of such planets and allow them to conduct tests to figure out if they could sustain human life. 

Jim Peebles, a Canadian-American astrophysicist and the recipient of the 2019 Nobel Prize in Physics, gave insight into this planet’s conditions.

“[Proxima Centauri b] is closer to [its] star than the Earth is to the sun, but [Proxima Centauri] is fainter,” Peebles wrote in an email to the Tribune. “So, the temperature on the planet is about the same as ours, water neither boils nor freezes.” 

Without a doubt, interstellar travel will decode the enigmas beyond the realm of our solar system and revolutionize the meaning of space exploration. 

Features

Solitary studies

by Sarah Farnand on

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This school year has presented unique challenges to McGill students around the world. With remote classes, fluctuations of public health measures, and ongoing travel restrictions, many students have had to adjust their academic plans. Now, students attend class from all over the world, often making it difficult for these individuals to keep up with their courses and stay connected to the McGill community. solitary solitary

 

As someone who is currently attending their second year of university from their childhood bedroom, far away from the McGill community, I can attest to the simultaneous joys and challenges of online learning. One major struggle I have faced is the loneliness of being isolated from McGill and from Montreal. 

 

Studies have shown that attending classes remotely has had disastrous impacts on students’ mental health. Natalie Schwarz, U1 Kinesiology, spent the Winter semester studying from her home in San Antonio, Texas. In an interview with the //McGill Tribune//, she described feeling detached from her friends in Montreal.

 

“Especially with asynchronous lectures, I don’t talk to a lot of people in my classes,” Schwarz said. “I am not as close with [my friends] because they are so far away, so I definitely feel isolated.” 

 

Hamza Chikhaoui, U2 Engineering, who stayed in his hometown of Casablanca, Morocco this semester, emphasized that studying alone was the hardest thing about being home.

 

“I personally think the hardest [part] of studying from home is not having peers to study with,” Chikhaoui said. “So you are kind of responsible for a lot more stuff with regard to course material.”

 

This feeling of loneliness is especially present among first-year students who haven’t had the chance to make real friendships with their peers. Having only visited McGill once last year, Ella Vanderkop-Girard, U0 Arts and Science, explained that making friends remotely has been difficult.

 

“I have started talking to a few people,” Vanderkop-Girard said. “I have a study group for my linguistics class, but I definitely think it has been a lot harder with everything online.”

 

Time zone differences have made it particularly difficult for some students to stay on top of lectures and assignments. The inability to attend class can hinder one’s learning experience, with work piling up quickly due to the lack of synchronous lectures. Chikhaoui has also found these new circumstances to be especially challenging during exam periods.

Editorial, Opinion

McGill must chart a new course into its third century

by The McGill Tribune Editorial Board on

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On March 31, McGill will celebrate its bicentennial anniversary. The occasion, dedicated to commemorating the university’s 200 years of “impact,” will feature virtual conferences showcasing research, a digital time capsule containing professors’ visions for the future of their fields, and a massive fundraising drive. Although it is important at this critical juncture to acknowledge the institution’s growth and recognize the achievements of its research and graduates, these facets are only one part of McGill’s story. From the Black and Indigenous persons whom James McGill enslaved to the individuals subjected to 20th-century MK Ultra experiments, survivors of violence and oppression form much of McGill’s complex history. Moreover, chronic underfunding in key areas such as student services continue to undermine students’ experiences, overshadowing its rising rankings. This year’s bicentennial must not devolve into a pageant of institutional conceit: As McGill enters its third century, it is imperative that the administration reckon with the university’s failings and set a course toward inward reflection and change.

Over the course of its two centuries of existence, McGill has expanded and evolved into a major public research institution with an international student body. Nevertheless, it has always been an artifact of white settler colonialism: Established on land stolen from the Kanien’kehà:ka people, the university’s bicentennial also marks two hundred years of anti-Indigenous violence. It bears James McGill’s name because he used wealth from the fur and slave trade—as well as the money he accumulated by exploiting and enslaving Black and Indigenous people—to found the institution as his legacy. Although these facts have been brought to the surface through archival research, administrators have long resisted calls to confront them. Worse, they have cast James McGill’s merchant success as an archetype for the modern McGill student, even commissioning a statue of him in 1996. Administrators have resisted student campaigns to take down the statue memorializing McGill’s racist founder, either effacing history or implicitly worshipping the white supremacy that produced his success. 

McGill’s modern research history has been similarly polished free of historical wrongdoings. Consider the 1957-1964 Project MK-Ultra experiments, where McGill psychiatrists supported the United States Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)’s efforts to devise mind control methods—subjecting hundreds of nursing students to inhumane forms of sensory deprivation in the process. McGill faculties have also been involved in weapons research at the behest of the U.S. and Canadian governments, rendering the institution complicit in geopolitical violence. McGill must honour the victims of its role in past and ongoing oppression even as it highlights the acclaim of its graduates. 

Students, however, have long challenged McGill to do better. From 2019 valedictorian Tomas Jirousek’s successful campaign that changed the racist men’s varsity team name to the “McGill RedBirds,” to the Summer 2020 “Take Down James” movement led by Black Students, courageous student activists have been at the forefront of tangible improvement at the university. 

Still, although administrators have eulogized students as “resilient”—not least for surviving remote learning during the pandemic—such rhetoric threatens to justify dysfunctional student services and unreasonable academic harshness. Just because students are determined enough to endure McGill’s many shortcomings, from an understaffed Wellness Hub to inaccessible academic advisors, does not mean that these issues should be ignored. In its next century, McGill must enshrine compassion and respect into its ethos, prioritizing its educational mission. It must also stop seeing students as a product to be “made.” McGill is not merely a factory of prestige; it is an institution that has benefited from the contribution of its faculty, staff, and students, but most importantly exploited labour.

It would be unreasonable to mindlessly praise the institution as though it has played no part in historical atrocities or present-day inequities. McGill’s faculty are still overwhelmingly white, and BIPOC professors battle discrimination and obstacles to advancement. McGill’s bicentennial is a moment to reflect on how far it has come, but it must also orient itself toward long overdue change.

Hockey, Know Your Athlete, Sports

Know Your Athlete: Jade Downie-Landry

by Adam Menikefs on

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The onset of the COVID-19 pandemic has had a significant impact on McGill varsity athletes, with nearly all competition and training brought to a complete stand-still the past year. Jade Downie-Landry, BA ‘20, U1 Education, was prepared for her fifth and final year of eligibility competing on the Martlets Hockey team, but the season was halted on Sept. 14 when the RSEQ announced the cancellation of all university sports. With many public health restrictions in place, Downie-Landry and her teammates found different ways to remain active and prepare for the 2021-2022 season. 

“With reason, our facilities have been closed for quite some time, and this has required us to adapt to the situation,” Downie-Landry said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “Thankfully, the girls have been great at it, with some [players] outside of Quebec able to access ice and gyms. For those in Quebec, we utilized resources such as the outdoor rinks and the provided three home workouts per week.” 

As co-captain of the team, Downie-Landry has found creative ways to foster team bonding under these difficult circumstances. She is thankful the team has remained close despite the long period of isolation. 

“Although it has been challenging, I think it has been a great opportunity to be creative and it has served as an opportunity for us to grow as a team in the face of adversity,” Downie-Landry said. “I think the girls deserve a lot of credit considering the challenges that presented themselves.”

Downie-Landry appreciates having the support of fellow co-captains to help lead their tight-knit squad.

“The beauty of having a group of captains on the team is that we all share similar beliefs about our roles as leaders,” Downie-Landry said. “What is most important for the leadership group is to make those around us better leaders as well. It is great having a group of four to five girls leading a team, but having 25 girls better themselves everyday as people, athletes, students, and leaders is even more essential when looking at our team as a whole.” 

Juggling the responsibilities of team leadership, the rigorous varsity hockey training schedule, and McGill’s high academic requirements would prove challenging for anyone. Over the past five years, however, Downie-Landry said that she has grown as both a player and a student with encouragement from her teammates. 

“Learning how to manage my time meant learning some things about myself that I did not necessarily know before,” Downie-Landry said. “Throughout the years I have definitely noticed that I am very routine-oriented [….] Being surrounded [by] teammates who had struggled and experienced a heavy schedule was also nice because I got to experience what worked and did not work for me.”

Off the ice, Downie-Landry has been working diligently to complete her second degree at McGill after graduating with a degree in psychology in 2020. She is now completing a B.Ed in physical education. After she graduates, Downie-Landry hopes to stay involved with hockey.

“My plans are still up in the air,” Downie-Landry said. “One thing I am certain of is that I would love to continue within the hockey community, whether that is being involved with coaching or other opportunities that might present themselves.”

For now, Downie-Landry is looking forward to the possibility of playing hockey games next year. 

“I am fortunate enough to be coming back next year, but some players, regardless of university, are concluding their final years as a student-athlete,” Downie-Landry said.  “I tip my hat off to them. I cannot even begin to imagine how difficult this year must have been for them.”

Off the Board, Opinion

I could sleep wherever I lay my head

by Katia Lo Innes on

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During my undergraduate degree, I became a night-owl: The day was occupied by class or work, and I allotted my most academically and socially productive moments to the witching hours. Although I could never predict where I would sleep each night, I always found a place to rest if I did not return to my own apartment. Where I slept—and who I slept beside, in the literal sense—was often haphazard, but always created a cherished memory.

Over the course of my degree, I have slept in four of my own beds—including one rock-hard single bed in RVC—those of my friends, roommates, as well as a couple of courteous exes. I have slept in the metro after concerts, nodded off in the reclining Cinema du Parc seats, and fallen asleep face down on picnic blankets in the summer, burning my entire back. Starting birth control in my first semester of university induced a bout of chronic fatigue, causing me to fall asleep five minutes into lectures. Even though it was not the best for my sleep schedule—or my back—I loved sleeping in weird places; I even maintained an Instagram account to document the spontaneous naps that my fellow student journalist friends and I would take in our cramped, triangular office.

As somebody with hyperactive tendencies, McGill offered me the opportunities to keep my agenda packed full with places to be and things to do, fueled solely by Snax Coffee and depanneur Red Bulls. Unfortunately, McGill’s “work hard, play hard” culture conditions students to believe that over-exhaustion should be the norm. Because of Montreal’s current curfew and my general senioritis, I romanticize the freedom I had to stay up all night doing whatever I wanted, even if it came at the expense of my mental and physical wellbeing.

For the first three years of my degree, several campus spots became extensions of my bedroom. Amidst the stress of deadlines and papers, I was grateful to be able to close my eyes and catch a few moments of undisturbed rest. During this remote semester, I have missed basking in the Lower Field sun and impromptu sleepovers after a night out with my friends. I miss the solidarity that existed in the library during finals season when I could trust the person I waved at to watch over me and my belongings as I slept—a common bond between undergrads. 

I think fondly of my moments of rest, not because of the circumstances that made my sleep schedule irregular to an unbearable point, but because it showed how much students care to look out for one another. I am unsure if my university degree has taught me anything besides what the “Anthropocene” is; however, my unofficial education has taught me that in cutthroat, faux-elite settings such as McGill, the most impactful thing you can do is care for your peers, and look out for them when they sleep. 

My nights are now more predictable—gone are mascara-smeared pillowcases and dozing off on public transit. Rather than staying up for days on end, I sleep often and for long periods at a time. I relish in the ominous light that emanates from the Olympic Stadium and pours into my room. Though my nostalgia for library all-nighters and sketchy after-parties may be self-destructively misplaced, there was always a thrill in waking up in some alien place—whether it be a friends’ or a strangers’ house—and then the walk home that followed, where every block took me toward both greater lucidity and my front steps. Better yet was letting friends crash at my place, then waking up to share breakfast and laugh about whatever nonsense ensued the night before. I am sure that one day, I will wake up somewhere new again, but this time, without the rings of my notebook imprinted onto my face.

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