If exams, papers and projects are consuming all of your time during this midterm season, and a trip to one of Boston’s many bookstores is not feasible, then I have great news for you. There is still a way to have this author’s recommended dose of bookstore browsing at a lovely shop right here in Tufts’ backyard.
As usual, I would like to thank you for writing to Sage Advice to ask for support. As I prefaced in my first column, I’ll do my best to speak from personal experience and give you some semblance of an answer to the perennial problem of “toxic cliquiness.”
Boston is a city of stories. The regal names of squares and streets, the faded bronze plaques nestled within brick facades, the rivers decussating its low hills; Boston is a composite of many, many stories. Once I began to notice the whispered stories etched into the cobblestones beneath my wayward feet, I could not help but find that my whole world was suffusedwith like whisperings. There is the story of my life — the narrative of my perception and those who vie for control of it — and there is the rich, boundless story of my world. And one, invariably, speaks to the other.
As we tackle midterm season in the midst of these cold, dreary months, I often think about what could possibly cheer me up during a long afternoon spent studying. The answer? Matcha, of course! Matcha enthusiasts and bread lovers alike will be pleased to know that in the heart of Cambridge sits bōm dough, a Brazilian cafe featuring a robust assortment of matcha drinks, pastries and breads in addition to a variety of brunch items. Their menu ranges from traditional to experimental items, offering matcha drinks with flavors like maple and peach.
Hi everyone! Welcome back to The Oxford Comma. For today’s column, I want to explore the old-time question that William Shakespeare’s Juliet once mused aloud: “What’s in a name?”
Ah, Alewife, the only stop on the Red Line that is outbound for Tufts students, a place you pass through rather than visit. But don’t let that fool you — it’s got a lot to offer, even if it’s not the most glamorous spot on the map.
¡Hola hispanohablantes! Mi nombre es Chrystal Coleman y bienvenidos a mi nueva columna: “Perú Publicado!” Van a aprender todo sobre mi semestre al extranjero en Perú en el programa de Globalización y Personas Indígenas en la Escuela para Entrenamiento Internacional. Hey English speakers! My name is Chrystal Coleman and welcome to my new column: “Peru Published!” You’ll learn all about my semester abroad in Peru in the School for International Training’s Indigenous Peoples and Globalization program.
In the spring of 1988, then-Tufts studentsJonathan Larsen (LA’88) andJulie Beglin (LA’89) set up a meeting with theTufts Community Union Senate, determined to achieve one objective: making The Tufts Daily no longer reliant on funding from the university. Nearly four decades later, the Daily continues to be financially independent as a result of the tireless work of its staff. Why did the Daily put so much effort into becoming financially independent at the time, and how does it remain independent today?
The date is Feb. 25, 2025 and you are reading the Daily Week edition of The Tufts Daily. But, have you ever wondered, ‘what were students reading on this day decades ago?’ On Feb. 25, 1986, the Daily reported that the trustees had increased Tufts’ undergraduate tuition by 6.8% to a total of $15,960 –– if only they knew! A year later, the front page of the Feb. 25 edition in 1987 reported on a march against prejudice and violence at Tufts and beyond.
Regular Daily readers may have been surprised to see magazines in our newsstands at the end of last semester — for 45 years, the Daily has regularly published a traditional tabloid newspaper. But on Dec. 5, 2024, the Tufts Daily Magazine made its debut.
Well, well, well. It’s like déjà vu. We are back to our favorite time of the semester: midterm season! It’s a beautiful and wonderful time for all Tufts students — spending hours in Tisch cubicles, fighting fellow students for a table outside of Kindlevan Café and crashing out in the Tisch basement (a nod to my past article). For my dear, loyal readers, you can already tell how midterm season is going for me with this delayed publication. I hope you all were able to get through the weekend without my profound insights and comedic tone to guide you.
Gentle Reader, Welcome back to another Friday on the hill. You have survived the most trying week of the year for the yearning and heart-broken. I hope your week was filled with chocolate and flowers, even if you treated yourself to them. In honor of the national holiday of romance, today we are paying ...
Webbed footprints litter the snow. A cacophony of honks echo across the lawn. Green-tinged excrement coats the sidewalks. Students reluctantly recreate events from “Make Way for Ducklings” on their way to class. All of these resulted from the influx of Canada geese — also known under the misnomer of Canadian geese even though they lack Canadian citizenship — on the Medford/Somerville campus.
According to ChatGPT, a generative artificial intelligence overview is untrustworthy because it has a “lack of source transparency,” “hallucinations and misinformation,” a “lack of context and nuance,” “bias and algorithmic influence,” an “inability to interpret real-time or niche information” and “no direct accountability.” Despite its self-proclaimed faults, AI-generated overviews pop up for almost every Google search, with no way for users to opt out of receiving them.
I ❤️ you. This confession is quite audacious — indeed, I may hardly know you beyond your proclivity for consuming great journalism. Nonetheless, I hope my love may entice you to continue reading because I find such an admission remarkable, despite its forward attitude.
Overly Caffeinated Student: Some of my peers hosted an impromptu intervention and divulged that my caffeine intake is concerning and bordering on an addiction. I suffer from withdrawal headaches if I don’t have caffeine early enough in the morning and I typically require two to three caffeinated ...
In Hawa‘i, tradition and history aren’t just remembered — they’re lived. Lu‘aus bring people together through music, hula dancing and a feast of flavors like kalua pig and haupia. Spam musubi — a grilled, teriyaki-glazed Spam atop a block of rice, wrapped in crisp nori — is a relished snack. The rhythmic pulse of pahu drums echoes through hula performances and sacred ceremonies, their deep tones carrying the stories of generations. With each movement of hula, hands and bodies speak a language of their own, preserving and sharing the spirit of Hawai‘i.
The weather has recently evoked the image of an oversized leather chair, a crackling fireplace, a rich mug of hot chocolate and a book. While the best I can do is a broken desk chair, some yule log YouTube videos and a mug of Swiss Miss, at least I still have the book. And, if this time of year is reminiscent of Robert Frost or William Carlos Williams to you, then maybe a trip to Grolier Poetry Book Shop is in order.
Located in Arlington, a town bordering Medford, Robbins Library somehow manages to fuse quaintness with grandeur. The first floor’s main sitting room is the centerpiece of the library. The few shelves of books in the middle of the room are only an accessory to its overall splendor. Vintage, floral-patterned, wingback chairs cluster around a magnificent, intricately-carved wooden fireplace, which rests atop a marble mosaic floor. Tall wooden arch windows line the walls, leading up to a beautiful, color-infused gold-leaf-accentuated ceiling. Aside from the modern books and magazines displayed in the center of the room, stepping into this space makes me feel as if I’ve traveled to a different time period entirely.
Hi everyone, long time no see! I’ve taken a bit of a break, but I’m back and ready to share my musings from across the pond. Before we get into it though, a little update: Last column, if you can recall, I talked about my experiences with the food here in the United Kingdom. Believe it or not, my relationship with British cuisine took a tragic turn as both my friend and I got food poisoning. Yeah, it was about as fun as it sounds. If you ever find yourself wincing at Dewick’s never-ending supply of pasta, or perhaps Carm’s dry rice, just know that it could be way worse.
