Julie Moon

A popular mindset among students at Columbia is that our time here is a harshness to bear, a sort of four-year boot camp. It's obvious why this is: Most of us are biting off more than we can chew, be it classes, extracurriculars, or internships. Stress has become so integral to campus culture that many students don't expect anything more out of their experience than to simply survive. In his recent op-ed, former Columbia College student Lucas Macha rightly calls out Columbians on a "delusional tolerance" of physical, mental, and emotional malaise.

But, I was then asked to do something I wasn't used to. Hannah and I were separated to answer distinct questionnaires. Mine asked me to undertake a rigorous examination of my emotional life in the past week before the study, during our conversation, and immediately afterward.

California Governor Jerry Brown declared a drought state of emergency on January 17, 2014, after the driest year in the state's history.

Almost 5,000 researchers waded out into the Hudson River last month, taking data on everything from cloud cover to salinity.

I used to be greatly inspired by this representation of cognitive activity. It justified all the tension I had experienced in my time as a student here: hunching over some desk, biting my lips, and knotting my brows together in an attempt to think critically.

Movie opens. Charlie Kaufman. Fat, old, bald—he paces. His voice-over carpets the scene. "I am old. I am fat."

One Tuesday not long ago, I saw myself in someone at the library in Kent Hall. She took the seat beside mine. I was at my laptop, and she, soon enough, at hers. It was the mid-afternoon, that blank space of time wherein one must come face-to-face with one's expectations for the day.