I was thirteen years old when I performed my first magic trick. All I had to do was say the words “law school” to my parents, and they’d transform into different people. The perpendicular worry-lines which marked my mother’s forehead softened. My father smiled.Continue...
As I approach the end of my graduate coursework, I’ve been trying to find the words to define what my time as a philosophy student has taught me.Continue...
Ever since my family immigrated to Canada, I’ve been trying to find the perfect balance between Russian, the language of my family, and English, the language of my new home.Continue...
Overthinking has absorbed my university life. I find myself bound by standards for and perceptions of myself—and sometimes it goes overboard.Continue...
On my first day at Queen’s, I drove to Kingston with my parents in a U-Haul, unloaded my things on my floor in Gordon Brockington Hall, and understood what it meant to be an outsider in Canada.Continue...
It’s been exactly one year and one month since I slurped on a bowl of authentic Taiwanese beef noodle soup. One year and one month since I've seen my parents, not through a small black screen, but in person.Continue...