EVERY HOOFPRINT

I vividly remember my mom telling me to flip my head over and applying Aussie Sprunch Spray in my hair when I was a kid. I had brown ringlets with blonde highlights because my mom would also spray Sun-In all over my curls. Everyone called me Shirley Temple and people with naturally straight hair would tell me that they wish they had mine. I felt the same exact way. All I ever wanted was their hair. You can only brush curly hair when it’s wet, or else you’d look like a circus

As the world recovered from the Covid pandemic, the West Haven Veterans Hospital allowed 25 youth volunteers back into the building in the summer of 2022. I was one of them, three years ago. All masked up at the tail end of the pandemic, I initially got the gig to get community service hours for my high school. I eventually racked up about 130 hours that summer. Most of the patient escort job involved waiting for elevators, sitting at the front desk and taking phone calls, pu

An open letter to the campus community, by Sheraud Wilder, President of the Gamma Alpha Tau Chapter of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity, Inc., I, Sheraud Wilder , would like to thank Patch Bowen for allowing me to speak on my thoughts as a student leader on campus. Individuals like Patch fuel my drive to speak out against the injustices faced by students and minority communities. They have these platforms to share the message and our voice for something greater. In my four years as

Pawfluencer Pip Iguana Pinto is making headlines again after trying the men’s litterbox at Pinto Tower. “It’s new and stainless steel. Mine’s plastic. Sexist,” she says. Known for viral antics like licking PetSmart treats without paying, Pinto isn’t phased by fame. When paparazzi appeared, she flashed her middle paw pad. “I want movies, shows, a podcast—everything,” she declares. Asked about Grumpy Cat, she shrugs: “Who?” There’s only one Pip—and she’ll pee wherever she wants

Resilience isn’t something you’re born with—it’s a choice. It’s the mindset that keeps you standing when life tries to knock you down. Being resilient means knowing your strengths, controlling your emotions, and adapting when things fall apart. Even the smallest effort—the mustard seed of “I won’t quit”—can carry you through. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about refusing to give up, no matter how hard it gets.

I’ve decided my life is a sociological experiment run by a bored grad student in heaven. My schedule defies logic; my coffee intake defies science. People say I’m “high functioning,” but really, I’m 47% competent, 38% guessing, and 15% strategic nodding. I am not a person—I am a concept powered by caffeine and chaos.

It’s 2:19 a.m., and the world is quiet—the kind of quiet that makes you hear everything. In that silence, I start thinking about the person I am when no one’s watching. Not the version people see, but the one who exists without pretending. The one who feels everything, questions everything, and just… is. Maybe that’s who we really are—the quiet version we meet in the dark when the noise fades. And for now, that feels like enough.

It all began on September 9 at 8 p.m., when I discovered what I thought was a leak in my bathroom ceiling. Standing in a puddle with wet socks, I looked up—only to meet the beady gaze of a squirrel peering through the air vent and politely introducing itself by peeing on my freshly cleaned floor.

To my peers, and to my community, It was winter break, December 2024 and while my mind was reeling from months of late rent payments and struggles with college courses, my mother surprised me for Christmas with a flight to North Carolina. She moved months ago, and what little she knew of my struggle on campus, she knew less of my struggle on my own. I was scared to step away from so much responsibility, even for a few days. My mother’s worry is worse than any anxiety. I could

I let my anger get the best of me. Just like him. There are no words to describe being compared to someone your memories villainize. Though I knew my father beyond the anger, having one of your first memories of someone be something so traumatic doesn’t set a great tone, especially when you see them once a yNineteen. The last year of one's teens. The last chance to be a kid before the impending doom of your twenties begins to sink in. The age I am now and the age my father wa

Whether it is misremembering or a sickening form of nostalgia, something sinister hangs over memories of movies from our youth.  Never in my life has any current movie given me the same sense of primal fear as some childhood movies have given me. The heart racing and stomach sinking feeling that films like “Where the Wild Things Are” and “James and the Giant Peach” have given me have not been matched by any modern horror movie I have watched recently.  Yes, “Where the W

My weight enters the room before I do. It doesn’t matter if I’m having a good hair day. It doesn’t matter if I walk in with a smile on my face. It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing makeup. My body is the first thing people always notice. The first time I noticed I was different was when I was five. I was going on the bus to school and made friends with two twin sisters. The seat I sat in that day became my assigned seat on the bus. I didn’t know the choice I made would turn out t