David Brooks recently wrote an article for the New York Times called “The Moral Bucket List.” In it, he describes coming across people who “see life as a moral drama and feel fulfilled only when they are enmeshed in a struggle on behalf of some ideal.” He concludes, “those are the people we want to be.” But how do we do this? As Amherst students, we are always trying to push the envelope of experience, but we often forget to make time to find our passions and our voice.

It is often apparent to me that most people fear having nothing new to add to the world, of leaving an ordinary footprint. During my spring break, I stayed in the New York Loft Hostel in Brooklyn for about a week. Undeniably, New York City is a booming, living organism, and one grows sonder there, I believe, appreciating that everyone else has a story. Indeed, in an attempt to be unique, people spread out, trying to capture something personal — something that would distinguish them.

s there a reason why we waste time? We are all familiar with the phrase “You should be doing something useful with your life!” While studying in Keefe Science Library, I often stop my work and watch an episode of “How I Met Your Mother” or just a few YouTube videos. Sure, I get my work done, but I do wander. As travelers in search of signification, we tend to some studies and readings as more momentous; indeed, anything now and then seems more interesting than that chapter of chemistry reading!

“The food is edible.”

“I just think it’s a step-up from my high school cafeteria, but it’s definitely a step-down from household food.”

“It’s satisfactory.”

These were the responses I received from students when asked what their views were of the food at Valentine Hall. They may seem reasonable to many, but not to me: I think the food is phenomenal! Now, before you laugh or disregard my hyperbole ­— as it is to some — let me discourse my reasons for this opinion:

Amherst’s community has a certain uniqueness: Though diverse, it acts as a unit. I never thought that such a community could exist because I have seen that differences usually breed conflicts. I did not write this article to praise the Admissions Office on their selections, although they are indeed worthy of it. Instead, this article is about the loneliness experienced by some international students on this campus in spite of everything, and about the unbearable pain of internal conflicts — it is about the process of adopting Amherst as a second home.