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Whether organically or through the multi-billion dollar commercial complex that feasts on a paper-heart production of love, Valentine’s Day is an opportunity to reflect on why we love, who we love, and what keeps us loving. In honor of the occasion, we asked the Editorial Board — hopeless romantics and cynical curmudgeons alike — to reflect on the loves in their lives this semester.

What has been an unexpected source of love for you so far this semester?

I didn’t expect to enjoy a three-hour laboratory section at 9 a.m. on Friday, but thanks to my rekindled love for pipetting and the silly crocs by the front door (reserved for those who have forgotten their closed-toe shoes), I’m actually finding myself looking forward to it. My sleep cycle, however, does not share this rapture.

—Ian D. Svetkey ’25, an Associate Editorial Editor, is an Integrative Biology concentrator in Eliot House

Ode to Mary J. Blige:

O Siren! Sonic healing! with songs
Of troubling love and regretful longing,
With lying, crying, sneaking;
Thou, muse, dost help me through this heartache
As a siren guides a sailor: be without you (kendu mix)!

—Brian Baltazar Pimentel ’23, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is an English concentrator in Eliot House

For the first time in my math-concentrator life, I enrolled in a literature course; now, reading Anna Karenina every night has become an escape — if not an addiction. Lying in bed in my plain Lowell room I am transported across centuries and continents to the streets of St. Petersburg, the farms in Russia’s countryside, the balls of Moscow. For some the novel’s 800 pages is too long; I just wish it would read on for 800 more.

—Jacob M. Miller ’25, an Associate Editorial Editor, is a Mathematics concentrator in Lowell House

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Brief interludes of sunshine amidst the harsh winds of February have stolen my heart this year. The chance to be one with the Sun as I scurry across campus for classes, meals with friends, and a cozy library to curl up in has never been so enlivening. I hope Valentine’s Day brings with it more light, warmth, and sunshine for us to relish in during this season of love.

—Alvira Tyagi ’25, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is a Neuroscience and Government concentrator in Kirkland House

At a random point between the hours of 11 a.m. ET and 11 p.m. ET every day, my phone begins hopping around on my desk to the tune of the “Illuminate” Apple ringtone as my parents call me. Somehow the spontaneity makes it even better to hear their voices (even if sometimes I have to throw myself at my phone because I’m in the middle of a meeting and my ringer is very loud).

—Cara J. Chang, ’24, the President of The Crimson’s 150th Guard, is a History concentrator in Leverett House

Each year, the changing of The Crimson’s guard brings together a new constellation of executives to write, edit, and proof our content. Grizzled by my previous term on the Editorial Chair job, I thought I’d be earth-bound, already acclimatized to the more mundane logistics of nightly production. But while reviewing pieces in the evenings, I’ve found myself enchanted by the luminous fingerprints that each editor leaves behind — their idiosyncratic tendencies towards petite paragraphs or abundant em-dashes, avant-garde adjectives or witty conclusions. These bits of stardust brighten my midnights, reminding me again and again that the magic of 14p is something that never fades.

—Eleanor V. Wikstrom ’24, a Crimson Editorial Chair, is a Social Studies concentrator in Adams House

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What short Valentine — to a person, a group, a place, a thing, a nebulous philosophical concept — do you want to offer today?

I’m flirting hard with the idea of sleeping for an entire day just to reset my circadian rhythm. Diurnality, my long-distance love, I’m coming.

—Christina M. Xiao ’24, a Crimson Editorial Chair, is a Computer Science and Government concentrator in Eliot House

I have a complex, interdependent relationship with dark, expansive stores selling vintage copies of Vonnegut and lightly highlighted editions of Wittgenstein written in the original German. I can’t possibly pretend I have time to read anything outside of homework, nor that I have the space to accommodate more books. Yet still, I keep coming back, forgetting the lesson every time. Used bookstores, my love, I don’t know how to quit you.

—Vander O. B. Ritchie ’26, a Crimson Editorial Editor, lives in Matthews Hall

I’m in a long distance situationship with my favorite hometown coffee shop, but a cappuccino from Blue Bottle has gone from a tempting fantasy to a standing date. Is this true love or caffeinated infatuation? Either way, they can expect me for my usual on Valentine's day.

—McKenna E. McKrell ’26, a Crimson Editorial Editor, lives in Pennypacker Hall

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To Annenberg Dining Hall:

Thank you for serendipitous conversations, unlikely friendships, and a reliable late-night refuge from problem sets and Expos papers. Albeit the occasional culinary mystery, you shine brilliantly in all your glory — off-brand cereals, soda-fountains-turned-roulette machines… Thank you for your service to the first-years of Harvard.

—Rhys Moon ’26, a Crimson Editorial Editor, lives in Matthews Hall

Classical renditions of pop music. By the year’s end, my Spotify Wrapped will surely be a mess for Hannah V and Joe Rodwell’s version of Diamonds by Rihanna is the anthem of my Lamont late nights.

—Joshua Ochieng ’24, an Associate Editorial Editor, is an Economics concentrator in Quincy House

To an obscure Chanel Pendant I found one day while browsing through vintage jewelry. It represents more than just the fashion house to me — initials and a Magical Song. Two Cs interlinked to become one. Two separate entities with lives apart forming a character that stands the test of the time. I hope for everyone more love and memorable jewelry from whoever is special in their life on Valentine’s Day.

—Christian A. Gines ’25, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is a History and Literature and African American Studies concentrator in Mather House

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The M2 shuttle has hard-won my affection. Despite literal bumps in the road, I have come to appreciate the shuttle for allowing me to see more of Boston — from the views over the Harvard Bridge to the flutter of foot traffic by Fenway. It’s always a welcome sight to see the pop of blue pulling up to the curb.

—Shanivi Srikonda ’24, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is a Human Developmental and Regenerative Biology concentrator in Quincy House

To all of the hidden grand pianos around campus, I love you. Thanks for always being there for me at unexpected moments (and for not judging my attempts to improvise terribly out of key versions of Harry Styles).

—Eleanor P. Wiesler ’25, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is an Applied Mathematics concentrator in Eliot House

Nothing beats the rhythmic hum of the Currier dining hall fountain on a chilly Sunday morning as I complete my problem sets for the week. It’s the greatest sound in the world. That, coupled with generous helpings of off-brand fruit loops and milk in a plastic cup, creates a heavenly experience I have yet to match.

—Avery J. Fulmer ’25, a Crimson Editorial Editor, is an Economics and History concentrator in Currier House