the blogs at twenty by Ceri Riley '16

Last August, the MIT Admissions blogs turned twenty. Over the past week, we (belatedly) celebrated by asking a bunch of former bloggers to come back and blog for us—just like we did for the tenth blogiversary. In case you missed them,⁠01 or you want to consume all the content at once like a <a href="https://www.americanscientist.org/article/the-ultimate-mouthful-lunge-feeding-in-rorqual-whales" target="_blank" rel="noopener">whale lunge feeding</a> here’s an index of their entries from most to least crufty:

• It’s been a long road… by Jessie L. ’07
• I’m more than twice as old as when I started my blog by Anthony R. ’09
• A Whiff of Nostalgia Amidst the Scent of Youth by Daniel Barkowitz
• Other ways I’ve been rejected over the past fifteen years by Cristen C. ’10
• what i talk about when i talk about running by Chris S. ’11
• I may have been accepted to MIT, but by Snively ’11
• That rings a bell by Elijah T. ’11
• 14 years later by Yan Z. ’12
• MIT, Medicine, and Success from Any School by Ahmed H. ’12
• Things change, but the friends remain by Celena C. ’12
• Don’t forget to check in with yourself by Jenny X. ’13
• Hi again (and goodbye) by Elizabeth C. ’13
• Full Circle by Anna H. ’14
• Ten Years (On Dreams) by Lydia K. ’14, MEng ’16
• Mystery Hunt mile markers by Danny B.D. ’15
• The After by Kirsten L. ’15
• Three patterns from the pattern language of my life by Natasha B. ’16
• Repilot by Ceri R. ’16
• Memories by Latasha Boyd
• 6.5 Years Post-Graduation, I’m a Beading Artist by Yuliya K. ’18
• Liminal Activities Period by Joel G. ’18
• A Great Hunger by Selam G. ’18
• Learning how to be a human being, not a human doing by Caroline M. ’18
• In which I am somehow still an MIT student by Alex M. ’21
• throughlines by Paolo A. ’21
• I’m Still Here (for now) by Sabrina M. ’21
• Living Meaningfully by Nisha D. ’21
• Everything is different now by Mimi S. ’22
• Thoughts from the Dungeon by Kellen Manning
• infinite corridors by Vincent H. ’23
• You always have been by Cami M. ’23
• in search of lost time by Alan Z. ’23, MEng ’24 and CJ Q. ’23
• rearview reflections by Waly N. ’24
• Affirmations by Paige B. ’24

College—and particularly undergrad—is a liminal space, or at least I experienced it that way. You’re immersed in a fragment of the world that’s constructed to help you become yourself for four(ish) years, before you stumble into whatever’s next and continue, well, becoming. The MIT Admissions blogs are a special corner of the internet because, for over twenty years now, they’ve allowed everyone to peer into the lives of MIT students who have decided to share their journeys of becoming.⁠02 vulnerably and thoughtfully and bravely and maybe a little stupidly And after bloggers receive their diplomas alongside their peers and take that next step…they log off.⁠03 okay, okay, okay...not all of us, myself included, actually know how to log off and continue processing our feelings in real time online on other platforms, but STICK WITH ME HERE

What I have loved about reading these posts—and I have truly loved them, and all that I have learned about other bloggers and myself this past week—is that they are intergenerational in a way that the day-to-day blogs can never be, by the very nature of this four-year university model. These thirty-four bloggers⁠04 around a quarter of our alums!! are all at different points in their lives, pursuing different milestones, and feeling different (though sometimes parallel) big feelings. And the one thing that tethers them⁠05 or us, because I am in a distinct kind of liminal space right now, posting to the blogs both as an alum and as a current staff member all is being a blogger for MIT.

I am too tired⁠06 *gestures broadly at the world* to do any sort of quantitative analysis of the blogs beyond counting these thirty-four recent posts. But, qualitatively, I can say that these 20 years of blogs have fostered a community unlike any other I have experienced in person or online.

When we first sent out the email inviting alums to blog, I genuinely wasn’t sure of the response we’d get. It’s a cold email in the middle of January and the social internet looks vastly different than it did one, five, ten…much less twenty years ago. A couple people responded; we sent out a bump; a couple more said they’d try to write something. My secret mental goal was to try and get at least seven posts, so we could have one for each day of the week of the challenge.

But as we started posting, more bloggers reached out and offered to write something. Still more chimed in with a “hello” over email, even though they didn’t feel like writing publicly for one reason or another. I ended up posting three or four tremendously thoughtful blogs a day, and felt guilty as soon as they spilled over onto the second page of the blog archives—and then the third. Every writer needs a different kind of activation energy, but somehow this inspiration fanned outward, enveloping more and more bloggers and imbuing them with a spark. Even if we have never met in person, or never read each others’ writing at length before, the creativity seemed to energize everyone—even the current bloggers, who were asked to hold off on posting until this challenge was over.

Maybe it only felt this magical to those of us in the greater blogger community. Maybe it felt like a warm hug to you all, too. I don’t know if the distinction particularly matters, because I know what it felt like to me, and isn’t that enough?

Petey ended his 2014 post with some musings about the future, and as a former CMS major, I feel compelled to leave my own time capsule, too.

Suffice to say that, in 2004, there were barely any social network sites as we know them today, and so a college admissions site with a) student-written blogs and b) open comments was a kind of godsend for those who might want to get a sense of what life was like at that particular campus. In 2014, those conversations and connections are overwhelmingly occurring through a few social media channels (Facebook, Twitter, tumblr, etc); instead of being centralized around and facilitated by a given institution, they are facilitated by those channels and decentralized to friends and peers. And, frankly, our bloggers post a lot more to Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and so on than they do to the blogs, because that’s where their friends are.

In 2025, the social media channels feel even more fractured than before. Sure, the prevalence of platforms like Instagram and TikTok can’t be ignored, but conversations and connections are occurring through newsletters (or Patreons and other semi-to-completely-paywalled platforms), Discord servers, and even more decentralized spaces. Our bloggers are carefully distancing themselves from performative posting, regardless of the platform, and they’re thinking about the ways their attention is fractured online.

Fewer people are commenting on the MIT Admissions blogs than the heyday of 2004, but the blogs are still here to greet prospective applicants who are looking to learn more about what their lives could become here. Are there conversations happening elsewhere? Almost certainly, with the ever-increasing stress around college applications. Are those conversations engaging with the nuance of any school being a place where you could become yourself, or the nebulous nature of young adulthood? Maybe not as much as they could be, if all students read these blogs instead of worrying within their echo chambers. But what do I know?!

I know that we’re still missing ways to reach incredibly kind and passionate students who have never heard of MIT before, and that our office is working very hard to help these students understand what MIT is and feel like they could belong here. I know that with Petey as the Director of Communications and Special Projects, whatever strategies come next will center community, student wellbeing, and joyful play, because those are the kinds of spaces he works so hard to curate, and that he curates so well. I know that the Class of 2029 will come to MIT (or go to any number of other colleges) and learn, and grow, and stumble, and change their worlds in little ways—which, as I get older, I think is the key to changing The World in not-so-little ways.

Thank you to everyone who has read, or written, or commented on these blogs. Onward to the next 20 years!