{shortcode-742ebd72036934f24257a17ca1b902fe0d84cae3}
{shortcode-be29865d8a9c7908fa05930b7f2d42574eaa573c}mmanuel Kant said three things are fundamentally unknowable: God, immortality, and freedom. He obviously forgot one, because Crimson Print belongs on this list. Accept your place as but a speck of dust adorning the incomprehensible, enigmatic tapestry of Harvard’s printing system. There is nothing else you can do.
— Associate Magazine Editor Adelaide E. Parker can be reached at adelaide.parker@thecrimson.com.
Let’s compare this to an experience that is still hopefully fresh in your brain: applying to college. It depends on a little bit of luck, some trial and error, perhaps upperclassman help, and whether the receiver is in a generous mood. Don’t beat yourself up for failing a few times. Sometimes, even when you’ve followed all the steps correctly and checked off all of the boxes, the stars don’t align. Clear your calendar, and make it a date for yourself — or an actual date, or a roommate bonding activity. You’d be surprised at how close people can get in the face of adversity.
— Associate Magazine Editor Chelsie Lim can be reached at chelsie.lim@thecrimson.com.
Josh, I’m going to be honest with you. Crimson Print is less printing press and more printing-that-will-leave-you-pressed. He (yes, Crimson Print is a man. Why do you think it’s so difficult to connect to?) will act like he doesn’t know you each time he sees you. He always seems to see the world as black and white — especially when he runs out of color ink. He never says sorry for his mistakes. Sometimes he pretends not to have seen the messages you sent him. And, through all your pleading, he just keeps running like an emotional machine, leaving you on the margins. But you only see part of him. I know he’s double-sided. He’s the love of my life, Josh. So, Josh-lene, Josh-lene, Josh-lene, Josh-lene, I’m beggin’ of you, please don’t take my scan. I’ll never find another like him. There are no copies. Crimson Print and I may not be a perfect love affair, but our passion is like paper, and I’ll be there through all the jams.
— Associate Magazine Editor Jem K. Williams can be reached at jem.williams@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @jemkwilliams.
The thing about Crimson Print is that, like science or the weather forecast or love in the modern age, nothing is certain. This is despite rigorous peer review, despite degrees awarded in meteorology, despite the heart-thumping connection you may have felt over the pulsing bass of “You Belong With Me.” And especially despite how many times you swiped your HUID in the perfectly correct orientation. So throw away all pretenses of certainty, Josh. Forget the cheat sheet, the resume, the 12-point font. You might not ever be guaranteed the A-grade or the shiny internship, but I hope you learn to love all that makes you uncertain, all that makes you generous with kindness. I promise you this much: All that you give out will be returned to you tenfold. All that you love will love you back.
— Magazine writer Elane M. Kim can be reached at elane.kim@thecrimson.com.
The hidden secret, Josh, is that Crimson Print doesn’t work. Period. Don’t bother reading the multitude of excessively straightforward instruction sheets or FAQ pages on the Harvard IT website. They’re all there to confuse you. The actual solution requires just a simple tap on your phone: Call up your parent, personal accountant, or wealthy uncle (don’t be shy, Josh, I know you have a billionaire in your contacts), and ask them to order you a printer on Amazon. Overnight delivery, so you can have a copy of that reading for your tech-free discussion by 10:30 a.m. tomorrow.
What, you shouldn’t need to buy your own printer in order to be prepared for class? If that’s the case, you better warm up that extroverted personality of yours and start making friends with some upperclassman. They can show you how to access the free printers hidden around campus. Don’t ask me, though. Bill Gates hand-delivered a custom color printer to my Apley Court dorm the day I moved in.
— Magazine writer Kate J. Kaufman can be reached at kate.kaufman@thecrimson.com.
Give up. Drop the class requiring you to print. Go home. Perhaps cry yourself to sleep.
— Magazine writer Neil H. Shah can be reached at neil.shah@thecrimson.com. Follow him on X @neilhshah15.
