Ahhh, back from a nice and relaxing spring break, what every college student looks forward to and not-so-meticulously plans. It seems like everyone is buzzing around the week before spring break with murmurs of Cabo, San Juan, and, dare I say, Punta Cana humming in the background.
Posts published by “Anna Dabrowski”
I believe that the most powerful thing I have gained from Stevens is no longer fearing rejection. I remember stepping foot on campus at the young age of 18 and being fearful to even email a professor to ask to be excused from class for illness.
And now we have arrived at my least favorite season, “grey days.” The six week period of disturbingly colored street slush.
This past year, I have gone on 10 first dates with the complete intention of remaining single. This may seem counterproductive, but in a society where we barely interact with people outside of our close circles, I took on this “challenge” as a way to better understand how our generation navigates dating generally, especially when it comes to meeting strangers.
It’s here, semester eight (insert cliche here). The final countdown, the last chapter of a book convoluted with intersecting plot lines, characters, and people.
The fall semester has always been my favorite because of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Hoboken truly goes all out with decorating, and the city turns into an ornate and adorable village that could be straight out of a movie (and sometimes is with all of the filming that happens here).
Something that I have found particularly helpful for my career trajectory is making my own “Co-op.” For my past three semesters at Stevens, I have intentionally built out my schedule to have three days a week off in order to pursue internship opportunities.
Halloween is more about the hype than the execution. You spend weeks scrolling through Pinterest and TikTok, saving the most elaborate and witty costumes you can find, and then midterms hit.
Dear Abby,
Your column last week made me deeply uncomfortable. Not because of anything you wrote, but because I hate thinking about how much has changed in my life over the past three years.
It’s during late night frolics home that my deep love for Hoboken emulates through my body. As I walk past every street light (often in a delirious state of whimsy) and weave through the gridded streets, an overwhelming sense of calm washes over me — this is home, I know this.