CHARGED-UP RESULTS

I often see my adolescence as a well-worn, tattered tapestry or a dirt-stained quilt. The fabric is woven with trial and error lessons, backbreaking work, and long, tiresome hours. After some time and exposure to the rays of the sun, the colors of said quilt have become bleached. Seams split and worn out frays add to its layered texture.  I often lament how this tapestry of my adolescence used to be in its humble beginnings. Perhaps in speaking of innocence, I’m speaking of a universal metaphor for us all, as we all experience growing pains adjusting to adulthood. Even so, I have always felt particularly intense about this matter, almost obsessively more so than others. I view the quilt as a ruined rug; shredded and defined by its ugly patchwork stitches. Others seem to hold it up as a museum piece of bold beauty, which I find difficult to understand. They’d see the original fired bricks laid 4,000 years ago of a Babylonian structure in modern-day Iraq, and discuss its miraculous resistance to eroding weather. I’d perceive that same structure as carrying too much painful baggage; its 1990s Gulf War bullet holes are just the latest edition in a long line of endless barrage. A common illusion that one has as a young adult is that adulthood offers rich promises. For some reason, that checklist of having a job, a car, and a romantic partner seemed to line up like an Egyptian sundial to perfectly illuminate the definition of ‘making it.’  In such a baseline, naive understanding, I truly had to have held all of these ‘checkpoints’ at one point or another to realize that they didn’t define adulthood in the slightest, despite society’s conforming pressure. In addition, I have known many people who had all those things or more, yet either they decidedly handled them wrong or suffered the burnout intensely. The grass was never greener on the other side, at least not entirely in that generalized sense.  Some things are learned and then forgotten. Mistakes repeat until the lesson sticks. For instance, calculus had been discovered by Greeks, scholars in India, and others around the globe before Europeans developed it in the Enlightenment and the Industrial Age. As such, I’ve had to (as many do) learn these lessons over and over, until they finally stuck. It’s frustrating to know that the world would have advanced much sooner if the original calculus manuscripts hadn’t been destroyed, forgotten or overwritten in irrelevant Eurocentric narratives. However, we understand those concepts now, which is really what matters, even if it took us an eternity to get there.  I had begun an idea around three years ago, in one of my long-lasting literary landmarks. It was a rudimentary poem that I privately sang, with an audio clip of my friend playing the piano in the background. To me, this was the Ancient Babylon that really mattered and chronicled my being as a whole. While outsiders admired the impressive Ishtar Gate, I cherished broken copper bowls once meant for the dead. They spoke more for the reality of life to me than just its surviving highlights of great magnificence.  The words spoke of myself in third person, as a man who did not shroud emotions and who had a strong resolve like stones, more so than some. Contrasting peace and violent war, it was structured like a lost fable. Regrettably, it did not leave room for many nuanced complexities of the real world, making the vague concept easier to gravitate towards as an emotional anchor.  It centered around the concept of myself as a medieval court jester, spreading cheer and joy to courts far and wide, yet the real irony was that such a jester could mostly not smile or feel that cheer himself. It was an evocative doomsday knock on the door, begging for self-love, but it remained equally polarizing as a tragedy without a set solution.  While I speak of the past, I have come to the realization in its full, profoundness only quite recently, that my own memory is not often reliable. Externally, it may be easy to playfully tease a friend about their forgetful memory, yet I feel that that generalization does not account for all of the brain’s capabilities. I’ve always believed in a naive sense that my own memory was considered very reliable. I still really do remember a lot of my life, or a lot of my adolescence at least.  However, I have noticed that an emotional bias attaches itself to certain memories, perhaps more so than with my peers. An otherwise spotless pane of glass is soon frosted over with ice, often without my awareness of its full effect. This unreliable memory, even if only blinding me in certain spots, has surely pervaded much of what may be otherwise fruitful logic with swift cascades of emotion.  The joyful memories can appear ever more enchanted to points of minor delusion, and the sorrowful memories build atop each other, with the potential tension that one would expect from someone endlessly about to knock down a long domino chain that only grows with every passing day. This reinforces my intense pendulum swing of mood as not only a symptom, but a learned habit that builds off of itself.  I often feel like a child, in the best and worst ways. I know that I am endlessly curious and full of desire to learn everything I hear about, which aids me increasingly in my chosen career of journalism. I know that this childishness produces knee-jerk reactions that plagued me more in my adolescence than I’d want to admit, although I am advancing significantly in ability to counter thoughts that may otherwise prove hazardous.  Logic is the police to the crime of feeling too strongly. It’s just that the police used to take forever to get there, unfortunately, and sometimes still do. It’s interesting as the common definition of the word childish usually consists of images that come to mind of immaturity and juvenile tantrums. It holds a negative connotation, especially when used in a context of adulthood’s heavy responsibilities. I know that I may be immature in the sense of my silly antics, yet it does not reflect arguably more crucial aspects of my being. Childish also means light-hearted, spontaneous, imaginative, and open-minded. And a lot of energy, that too, which honestly isn’t such a bad thing now that I know my limits of exhaustion. They see me as a unicorn, but I usually feel like a pufferfish. It is the push of crushing despair that gets me out of bed early and out of the house. It’s the reason why I learned to problem solve and articulate interpersonal skills. Why I’m creative and therefore humorous. They counteract each other like two enemies ever so eternally fighting tooth and claw, as is the way of reality, sadly. Others that may be new to my life may pass through my illuminated window of hyper amusement and believe it’s desirable. I wish to explain as humbly and regrettably as I can that every extreme joy that I feel is matched every time, almost like clockwork, with a sorrow so anguishing and full of bitter blindness. The greater the suffering experienced; the greater the peace that is usually lived thereafter.  This cruel exchange ping pongs back and forth seemingly a million times a day, forcing me to adapt, as to not be stretched between tidal forces of a black hole. Back to the jester, of course. Is it possible that medieval jesters were also intellectual authors or poets? Is that court jester who entertains the court also a practicing doctor or surgeon? Can it be that the judge is, in addition, a criminal? That a noble knight is also of poor humble origins?  These things can certainly be true, yet it remains difficult to imagine that two contradicting ideas may both be correct in a realm of seemingly concrete beliefs. Some indeed say the jester lives life to the fullest, yet it may also be fair to say he feels more sorrow than many. Pulling apart these reinforced iron bars of deception that threaten to paint our world in such a narrow way that it simply never will be is a great struggle of the world, in my opinion. Everyone has a nuanced story, believe it or not. This emboldened curse or horrid blessing that I bear, whichever it is, fuses with the rational intellect I borrowed from my father and the empathic sensitivity that I loaned from my mother. Coupled with that logic on police duty, arriving swiftly on time as of late, I have been allowed to see the world in a way in an abstract yet hauntingly beautiful manner.  We tend to get wrapped up in our own lives. We believe everyone’s thinking about us, yet the only people who are worrying about ourselves with such intensity and destructive analysis are ourselves. We evade the reality that every passing soul is a being with family and dreams. Apply this to distant foreign wars or any massive statistic, and you’ll have trouble with this logical fallacy. I was recently in the Yale British Museum for Art, alone with my near-empty iced coffee, waltzing around like a fool. I remember looking up at these paintings of long-dead people. Drawings of poverty-stricken farmers carrying crops in British-controlled India. I could feel the sweat on their back, the tiresome nature of their body. They may have been experiencing heartbreak, helping an elderly relative with ailing health, or reminiscing about yesterday's humor.  I saw a depiction of a wealthy British woman in a sapphire dress, and wondered if she was married to a husband who gave her those jewels. What were her pastimes? What made her feel sorrow or fear? Ancient Babylonian structures are in sad ruin, yet they are also inherently beautiful due to their age. The tapestry of my adolescence (not even my entire life, mind you) is tattered and worn, yet its texture has built resilience and shaped character.  These things sound obvious when spelled out so plainly, yet in the moment, you’re just a being of flesh on a spinning tilted rock in celestial space. And it’s lonely, even if you’re surrounded by ten million strong. Don’t pretend it’s not. I suppose, if one such as myself really wanted to understand the jester, one would have to furnish art in pursuit of meaning, embrace light-hearted childishness when relevant, and walk the hills for centuries yearning for nothing and also everything.  I’ll be sure to remember to clear my frosted windows with photos and writings to remember prior years. The moment I became an adult was not when I turned 18, 19, or 20. It was to not have a girlfriend or own my driver's license. It was not when I entered college, either. It was when I began to stop fighting reality and knew that I couldn’t control it all. It’s when I gave myself room for navigating tough decisions that needed attention with logic and care. It’s when I looked in the mirror and knew that some frosted glass in my memories was inevitable. It’s not supposed to be a light switch, as frustrating as that sounds, with most issues. It keeps on going, as it does without final resolution. So thank you, loving court jester of the medieval courts, who brings such good laughter. I’ll forgive you for any wrong directions you gave or hearts you shattered. I’ll forgive you for any offended royalty you overwhelmed drunkenly or for your guilty internal struggle. The King just uses you for entertainment, I’m sure you know, but I really have seen enough of you to know that you truly, truly do contain multitudes.

Art by Azam Hostetler It is no secret that Bridgeport, Conn., is subject to local feelings of polarizing scrutiny, as well as avoidance and fear from those unfamiliar with the region. Bridgeport’s rates of violent crime are extremely high, and it has consistently held the highest population  of any CT city.  In 2019, law enforcement  reported that Hartford had the most murders and New Haven had the most burglaries, with both cities ranking highest in violent crime for the state. However, an accurate assessment places Bridgeport near or equal to those cities in crime frequency, with higher rates in other categories.   The city of New Haven achieves consistently positive press with various outlets  highlighting the city’s pizza scene and stunning Yale architecture. In comparison, Bridgeport has not received much favorable media attention, despite similar crime statistics. Matthew Muriel, a senior at UNewHaven, has lived in Bridgeport for most of his life and is of Colombian background.   “I think the reason why Bridgeport has a worse reputation is that it’s been considered a bad place for longer than New Haven,” said Muriel. “And when you go on the news, I feel like you don’t really see too much going on in New Haven. They don’t get really any big headlines as much as Bridgeport does.”   Muriel, who has lived in the north end, west, and east sides of Bridgeport, said that crime news in Bridgeport seems to be reported to news outlets immediately.   “New Haven actually has a higher crime rate than Bridgeport, believe it or not,” said Muriel. "New Haven has a lower level of crime, like they have a lot more petty theft, Bridgeport has more like higher severity crimes, but less of it, if that makes sense.”  Armand Majewski, 71, a lifelong resident of Bridgeport and a 1976 graduate of the University of New Haven, reflects on living through changes that turned local industry south. He himself worked in some of the major factories, served on the town committee, and was involved in education.  “What little bit of property we used to have used to be profitable from factories long ago,” Majewski said. "You know, Remington Arms, G.E., or Bridgeport brass; there’s a hundred different places that I could name that were once thriving parts of what kept this country safe in World War II.”  Around the time of World War I (WWI), Boston Avenue in Bridgeport held 13 interconnected buildings spanning across 80 acres. Tens of thousands worked  at factories and were housed nearby.   Soon thereafter, Remington Arms, acquired by General Electric, was supplying warring Allies in Europe with ammunition and weaponry. At the time, the Russian Czar was also a major customer in need of rifles.  “Connecticut’s rife with these pockets, Bridgeport’s one of them. They once thrived because they had all the factories that helped industrialize this country,” said Majewski. “Now there’s no industry there or anywhere in the United States; it all got shipped out.”  In the Roosevelt years of New Deal politics, the federal government faced a housing shortage in the wake of the Great Depression. A nationwide refusal  to issue loans and mortgages to African Americans in neighborhoods deemed ‘too risky,’ left many people of color excluded from new suburban communities. A policy known as redlining that deemed racial groups unfit to live together prevented minorities from obtaining insured loans.  Owen Jeffery Butler, 21, is a former student of UNewHaven and currently studies international affairs at George Washington University.   “I’m from New Jersey, but redlining has had an incredible impact on my town,” said Butler. "My town is almost entirely split between what you call the Valley and what you call the hill. And the Valley is all low-income neighborhoods for the most part, and very heavily minority populated.”  Butler, having personal experience from home and from studying in both New Haven County and Washington, D.C., expressed how widespread the effects of national redlining have been.   Online maps  from the University of Richmond illustrating segregation practices, show Bridgeport as a heavily affected area by this economic exclusion. Inexpensive factory housing built during WWI eventually turned into public housing projects with slum conditions.  Maps of 1930s racial redlining in Bridgeport continue to reflect present-day patterns, with entire neighborhoods graded and ranked by level of safety for investment. Well-funded high-income areas like the North End still to this day represent better neighborhoods.    Areas such as the South End and East Side of Bridgeport continue to experience heavy crime  rates and low income, with minorities  mostly living in these areas. These demographics align with online maps of the 1930s practice of state-sponsored racial segregation.   Although redlining was halted in 1968 by federal legislation , loopholes persisted, and the effects prevailed.   Butler, studying and living four blocks from the White House, speaks of clear racial and economic divides in Washington, D.C. that relate to local problems in Bridgeport.   “People are less likely to commit crimes if they have stable, well-paying jobs, because why get ahead when they’re doing pretty well?” said Butler. “A lot of lower-income neighborhoods often lack that, and a lot of people end up going into crime because they’ve got less to lose.”  Muriel appears to agree with these sentiments about crime.  “You have people that live in these cities that are struggling so much that their only option is to rob, kill, whatever it is, because if they don’t do it, they can’t feed their families,” said Muriel. “It’s a them or me, kill or be killed type of mindset.”  While violent crime cannot be defended, it reflects a lack of understanding among outsiders about the underlying conditions that have shaped communities. Despite similar challenges in other cities, a strong stigma surrounding Bridgeport persists. Exaggerative claims, such as assuming people from there are automatically not safe, or that someone would hear gunshots immediately if they had visited the city, reinforce this belief.  “Bridgeport does have a large amount of violence and drugs or whatever,” said Muriel. "But it always gets dragged out. People compare Bridgeport to Chicago, like no way it’s that bad.”   The census displays how diverse  Bridgeport is, a characteristic that locals say is a strength of the city.   Its rich past remains hidden behind the graffiti and closed down factories. For instance, the Freeman Houses remain on the South End and are the last remnants of ‘ Little Liberia ’, a former oasis village for freed slaves and Native Americans.  Kenneth Wright, 20, a student at Northeastern and a second-generation Jamaican, has lived in both the Bronx and Bridgeport his entire life. Wright attended a private regional high school to avoid the Bridgeport public school system, which he said is underfunded.  “We have a big Jamaican population, a big Latin population too, and Brazilians too,” said Wright. “Those are the main spots to eat in Bridgeport that I know of. Some good things are that we have Port Jefferson, so you can literally hop on the ferry and go straight to Long Island.”  Former UNewHaven students like Butler expressed no reason to travel to Bridgeport due to a simple lack of need. Despite the city’s lack of beauty in appearance, it’s still home to over 150,000 people.  “Those are places I used to walk around,” said Wright. “I used to go there and walk with my grandfather to get food and stuff…All these other towns, you can really look at them, like Easton, they have money.”  The diversity, food, and culture are what make the city special for Muriel. He expresses the need for street smarts and knowledge of the area for easier navigation. Muriel said, “If you drive through the east side, on a good, nice summer day, you’ll hear Puerto Rican music and you drive for like two seconds and it's Jamaican music, some R&B, rap, whatever. It’s just something that you wouldn’t get in a place like Fairfield or a place like Greenwich.”  He expresses love for the diversity and huge Latin community, which blossoms in celebration during international soccer events.   “We have like little mom and pop restaurants, I kid you not, from every part of the world,” said Muriel. “If I wanted Chinese food, Jamaican food, Colombian food, or anything I could think of, Bridgeport has it in quality.”   Areas with Section 8 housing are environments where residents grow up to experience social challenges, poverty and possible resentment. “They either end up in crime willingly or unwillingly, and they continue to abuse substances, ending up in a form of generational trauma,” said Butler. “If you want to solve this issue, you have to go after every part of it. Policy makers keep on trying to do it and it’s difficult.” Despite the longstanding challenges, Bridgeport is making a slow recovery. The city’s police department reported a significant drop  in crime in 2025. After years of development work, new apartment  units are opening on the Bridgeport waterfront.  “We’re building more apartments,” said Wright.“There’s one being built downtown and one being built on the port, which is going to be luxury and affordable apartments.”  Be that as it may, the apartments expected to open this summer will hold rents with up to $10,000, likely in an effort to attract higher income families. It can be said reasonably that many local residents could not afford such a price range. Meanwhile, wealthy neighbors who live close in proximity to struggling residents feed into understandable resentment and tension. For instance, Sacred Heart University  and its student housing itself have increasingly encroached into the city’s North End along Park Avenue. With a former convict serving as mayor, a persistent generational stigma and an outsider’s fear of violence, Bridgeport is often the subject of jokes. As featured on “ Family Guy ,” Bridgeport is painted as an instant danger to anyone who strays nearby. While stereotypes persist, the truth is more nuanced.   Decades of economic racial segregation have shaped communities and continue to contribute to poverty among minority communities.  Nevertheless, Bridgeport’s vibrant cultures and intense diversity offer strong sources of community. The food scene is booming, Port Jefferson provides water transport for many, and a rich industrial past adds to the city’s history. Attractions such as Bass Pro Shops, Beardsley Zoo, the concert amphitheater, and the accessible waterfront draw economic tourism to the region. Higher education opportunities exist at the University of Bridgeport and Housatonic Community College.   “Yes, Bridgeport, you know it’s not the wealthiest, not the prettiest looking, but it’s like our home, you know what I mean?” said Muriel.  While in contrast New Haven appears on the surface as tourism-friendly and safe, repeated cultural narratives and news broadcasting continue to reinforce a negative perception of Bridgeport. This furthers the problem by discouraging people from moving or working there.   There may be no need to defend Bridgeport, as its violent crime is evident to those who choose not to visit. Stereotypes can also reflect some truth, especially if shaped by social and economic context.  However, exaggeration of reality has distorted public understanding. Rich history should serve as a call to action to preserve, rather than let decline further.  Bridgeport can appear as an aggressive outlier, ye t it also remains a systemic victim.

Photo Credit: Patch Bowen Exigency, noun. “A state of affairs that makes urgent demands; that which is required; the state of being.” I’m a chronic info-hoarder, digitally and physically. I wouldn’t know where to start showing someone my watch-later playlist. I have every chapter of Lenin’s Revolutionary Theory of Organization  in a desk drawer, and the speech-to-text versions for each. My household drawers were stockpiles for filing papers, mail, tax forms, and IRS documentation. Don’t get me started on the shred paper filling stop and shop grocery bags, stuffed into every available corner. A career in investigative journalism makes sense for me, being raised financially insecure. Life in debt teaches you perseverance, or at least some resolve. I’m accustomed to finding documents, pulling papers and speaking in codes I don’t fully understand. That’s how I solved money problems at home and how my family saved me from theirs. I’m college aged and still prodding at people for the things I need to know. A degree from Fordham nearly cost my mother our house. She’s living four states away to better afford my grandparent’s medical costs, which have swallowed up savings for my secondary education. This degree in Multi-Platform Journalism isn’t going to save my family from poverty. It’s a hell of a motivating factor though. Saving is why I became a journalist. To save people, and that’s a simple thing to spend my life doing. Credibility,  “The quality or power of inspiring belief.” Consider who journalists are. What compels us to stand in front of picket lines or question federal authorities? Lived experience leads us to doing the work we do. This piece is largely inspired by the rhetorical undertaking of “How to Be an Anti-Racist”, by intellectual Ibram X. Kendi. I seek to define “honest” and “dishonest” journalism with clarity and specificity. This requires stepping backwards to assess where the news media has faltered. I’ve developed a spotting-framework for journalists to reference at any time, which will be published as a companion to this piece in Horseshoe Magazine’s final edition of Spring 2026. These criteria for effective communication will ultimately pave the way towards journalistic credibility. Impromptu Coverage Obscurity Equivocality Immateriality In 2024 I traveled to Washington, DC, with a cohort of 150 others who were disgusted by western complicity in Palestinian genocide. While on Capitol Hill, I spoke to reporters who were also moved to speak up for our fellow journalists in the Gaza Strip. I returned with a newspaper, fittingly titled “The New York Crimes.” Among the pages is a memorial to Anas Al-Sharif, a photojournalist who at 28 was sprinting towards shelled hospitals and bravely covering the Israeli military occupation of Palestinian land. He was killed, along with four other Al Jazeera journalists, in an IDF assassination. His eulogy is delivered and preserved by the Gaza Press Core and pinned up to the wall where I can see it at home. Al-Sharif was labeled a “Hamas militant," and his murder made headlines in CNN, ABC, and notably the New York Times, parroting Israeli propaganda. Not to mention the other four killed colleagues, who did not receive the same fabricated justifications for their deaths. Many passionate people just like me have been killed in the last three years. More journalists have been killed in 2025 than in the past three decades according to the Committee to Protect Journalists . More journalists have been killed in three years than in a century of Western imperial conflict, including both world wars, combined. This is the second consecutive year this record has been broken. Normalization of Deviance, “When people within an organization become so insensitive to deviant practice that it no longer feels wrong.” Frankly, the bar for copy editing is past subterranean. Articles are running with obvious grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, and even missing sources. The corrections aren’t in the headlines. Those updates, at times adding significant context to under-developed newsbeats, get buried by the algorithm. It isn’t what generates attention from users, so it doesn’t matter to the machine. If consequences are not immediate, repeated choices become easier to accept as normal over time. Cascading disaster is inevitable, yet decision makers in organizations do not see their choices as harmful; rather, they maintain that the deviant behavior was necessary. This phenomenon plagues organizations and institutions and is detrimental to the structure of public services like journalism. Consider the structure of most prominent news companies.   Shrinking newsrooms nationwide. More demand to sensationalize topics. Growing dissatisfaction with stories that do reach audiences. There is overwhelming, top-down pressure to manufacture profitable content instead of producing quality coverage. The average investigation costs above $200,000, from research to publication, and return on investment is never certain. News media cannot rebuild credibility if journalists are forced to make choices between employment and honesty every day. Sensibly, many choose a steady paycheck instead of braving the uncertain and dangerous field of independent journalism. There can only be so many lone wolf reporters in the field, though. “Individual communication skills are relatively insignificant in an environment where communication is distrusted by default” says Alan Zaremba, author of “Organizational Communication." Solidarity  Journalism, “…[journalism standing] for basic human dignity and against suffering, and is practiced through newsworthiness judgments, sourcing, and framing that center the lived experiences of people subjected to unjust conditions.” “The decision to report – or not report – on these conditions inherently leaves neutrality behind.” The Solidarity Journalism Initiative began at UT Austin in 2021, but this isn’t the first academic movement to address mainstream journalism’s inadequacies. The subject of “Human Rights Journalism” and “Peace Journalism” arose in the restructuring of post-apartheid South Africa in 1990. Journalists must consider the ways human lives could be valued as much as objectivity is. Omission of systemic patterns and historical context takes the news out of the news. This reduces stories to their passing headlines. No wonder so many drown in anxiety when CNN comes on the television. I pore over journal articles now, seeking permission to care about my stories from authority. I’m choosing not to dance around the loss of life now, for my own survival in a deadly news industry. I seek to archive good examples of thoughtful, honest reporting for others my age to reference. I hope that with these practices, human-centered ethics can rebuild the credibility of news as an institution in the global community. Surely, somewhere, another confused young reporter is searching through their folders for the answers as I did.  Solidarity might be that answer for them.

Photo by Adam Relkin Contributing Writer Adam Relkin To Mark Martin and Denny Hamlin, no kept coming up as an answer for wanting to change NASCAR for the greater good. Both never gave up and went out of their way to overcome incredible odds to make a change that has left the sport in a more positive light for 2026 and beyond.  I’ve been a NASCAR fan since I was six years old and have always loved the sport being a part of my life. After I had started watching, I noticed however that things were starting to go downhill over time. A decline in viewership and track attendance. The sport is not a talking point much outside of my house, especially since I was a kid growing up in a town north of New York City. Far from the sport's main market, the Southeastern U.S. In fact, the entire New England region has only one date on the NASCAR Cup Series schedule being at New Hampshire Motor Speedway in Loudon, NH. It took until 2025 for the state of Connecticut to hold its first NASCAR National Series race since 1970 when the NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series (NASCAR’s third tier series), made their inaugural trip to Lime Rock Park in Lakeville, Conn.  Some of the issues that fans and those in the industry had issues with included a controversial playoff format first introduced in 2014 and an ineffective business model of the sport. While the sport continued to rake in profits, teams in the sport would struggle to break even financially and operate at net losses and have to rely on sponsorship deals to stay alive. However, two racing legends who are well respected amongst fans, drivers and many in the industry did something that few thought could succeed.  Mark Martin, of Arkansas, scored 40 wins in his NASCAR Cup Series career spanning over 30 years. He may never have won a championship, but he was a fan favorite driving for legendary team owners such as Jack Roush and Rick Hendrick, among others, throughout his career. He retired in 2013, but remained a fan of the sport and was inducted into the NASCAR Hall of Fame in 2017. A controversial ending to the 2024 NASCAR season saw Connecticut’s Joey Logano score his third Cup Series championship. Logano was 12 th  in a full season long format (NASCAR has not used such since 2003) and had an average finish of 17.1 the lowest for a champion in series history. NASCAR saw the outrage amongst fans and began to consider changing the format after being against doing so.  NASCAR then formed a 30–40 member committee that would meet every few months to discuss and come up with changes to the format for the long term. The committee included NASCAR executives, drivers (current and retired), media journalists and personalities, team owners, TV executives and others. By this point, Martin had started to gain notoriety for complaining online about the championship format and other issues in the sport, but he refused to hold back because he was passionate.  He may have been the only one raising his hand and mouth in support of a full-season format in the first meeting, but as further meetings occurred, his activism led to more hands being raised. He wanted to be a voice and a platform for the sport's fans, who he believed wanted a full-season championship. While the first two meetings made Martin feel less optimistic about getting the format, he did later suggest returning to NASCAR’s 10-race “Chase” format instead as a compromise, which was used from 2004-2013 with no eliminations or rounds encompassing the final 10 races of the season.  When they did settle on the format, Martin felt like it was the biggest victory in his life, knowing he was able to get NASCAR to make a bold move, even if it wasn’t a full season.  “The fans win in this deal because even though they didn’t get what they wanted in it, they get a lot more than what they would’ve gotten if they stayed quiet,” Martin said in an interview  on Dirty Mo Media podcast The Teardown.  During NASCAR’s announcement of The Chase returning, NASCAR President Steve O’Donnell said, “What Mark did was, he got us to a position of what’s the right balance, and the balance between those who like the playoff and those that like that full season points and we believe we’ve struck that balance, we’ve got the best of both worlds where every race matters.”  Ben Kennedy, a former NASCAR driver and current Executive Vice President and Chief Venue & Racing Innovations Officer for the sport also said  that if not for Martin, the sport wouldn’t have made such a bold change to the format.  Being a voice for change can always go a long way if you don’t give up or stop, but what about suing your entire sport that you love to make change? Well, that can work too. Denny Hamlin has competed full-time in the NASCAR Cup Series since 2006. Hamlin has a resume of 61 wins, including three Daytona 500s and three Southern 500s, and is now a team owner in the sport, co-owning 23XI Racing with NBA legend Michael Jordan. Like Martin, he has not won a championship despite his record.  After over a year of failed negotiations regarding an extension of NASCAR’s Charter System (the sports franchising system, like other sports), NASCAR coerced all the teams  into signing a new deal or risk losing their charters. 23XI and another team, Front Row Motorsports owned by Bob Jenkins, refused to sign, viewing the terms of the deal as unfair and antitrust, which led to both filing a lawsuit against NASCAR in Oct. 2024. Both teams also cited the terms  as economically unviable for survival in the sport. Hamlin, leading up to the lawsuit, had been very vocal about the need for the charter system to become permanent and advocated for other things in the sport in general such as over development of NASCAR’s Next Gen Car, racing etiquette and the Damaged Vehicle Policy. He had voiced this on his own podcast, Actions Detrimental, which began in early 2023.  Hamlin also mentioned this before on the podcast that he does this because he loves the sport and cares about making it grow and getting the audience that it had when he was a rookie in 2006. He filed his lawsuit with that intention. Leading up to the lawsuit trial and hearings, both teams also had to fight to keep their charters through a preliminary injunction. They succeeded in December 2024, but a successful appeal from NASCAR in June 2025 resulted in their charters being taken away. Both teams ran unchartered from July until the end of the season. Efforts to settle the case before trial failed many times and the case went to trial in December 2025. After eight days of trial and calamity, both parties settled the case, Hamlin and NASCAR CEO Jim France were seen hugging each other, despite France staunchly opposed to altering the charter deal.  The settlement  included permanent charters, which were the main cause of the lawsuit, more say in decisions made by NASCAR, a share in international revenue for the first time, and a share in intellectual property rights. Hours after the settlement was announced, Hamlin posted on X (Twitter) where he said, “Standing up isn’t easy, but progress never comes from staying silent. The reward is in knowing you changed something.” As both Martin and Hamlin in the last year were able to make accomplishments in the sport that few thought they would succeed, this gives more pathways towards change if you keep talking. They both stood their ground and didn’t want to make a change for themselves, but for the greater good. Following in their footsteps, there are so many things you could accomplish that others will doubt you on. Be adamant about what you believe in, and always stand your ground.

Photo by Conor Doherty Contributing Writer Juliet Legassa College sports and athletes get a lot of hype from the outside, and their lives look glamorous. Athletes have games, team connections, school pride and access to many things other students do not have.  People don’t see what happens after practice - when athletes go back to their rooms, exhausted, open their laptops to start homework due by midnight, and then set an early morning lift alarm. Being a college athlete isn’t just physically demanding; mentally, it can be draining in ways that aren’t obvious.  Caraline Lambert, a rising senior on the Field Hockey team, said, “My mood can almost always depend on how my performance was in practice, or games. Even though my coaches, teammates, and others perceive me after a performance.”  Student-athletes are balancing full academic schedules with practices, lifts, film sessions, travel, and games, with little downtime. Even when there technically is free time, most athletes are thinking about performance -- what they did wrong, what they need to improve and whether they’re doing enough in their role. Playing time isn’t guaranteed for athletes, and performance can impact self-identity. That kind of pressure doesn’t just disappear when athletics ends for the day. The culture of sports makes this harder to talk about. Athletes grow up being told to push through pain and not make excuses. That mindset builds resilience, but it can also blur the line between being mentally tired and being mentally overwhelmed and drained. Admitting you’re struggling doesn’t always feel like an option for athletes. There’s a fear of being seen as weak or not committed enough to the team. Oliver Collier, a sophomore on the football team, said, “Yes, it gets hard, and there are tough moments. But you know it is hard for everyone and that you are all in it together.”  The National Collegiate Athletic Association has collected data on student-athlete mental health, and the numbers show it’s an issue. In surveys of more than 23,000 student-athletes across all divisions, the NCAA found that a significant percentage reported feeling overwhelmed by everything they had to do. 17% of male athletes, and 44% of female athletes. Rates of reported mental exhaustion and anxiety increased during the pandemic, although some numbers have improved since then; they have not returned fully to pre-pandemic levels. Women athletes consistently reported higher rates of mental distress compared to men. Many athletes also reported feeling pressure related to both academics and athletics at the same time. The NCAA has responded by creating mental health best-practice guidelines for member schools. These guidelines state that institutions must provide access to mental health services and treat mental health with the same importance as physical health. The NCAA  has also encouraged mental health first aid training for coaches and athletics staff so they can recognize warning signs and respond appropriately when athletes are struggling.  What really matters is whether or not athletes feel comfortable using the resources that exist. After talking to a student-athlete, and a Morgan's Message Ambassador (student athlete mental health club) Angelia Simou, a sophomore on the field hockey team, said, “I believe the issue is CAPS being our only resource. We no longer have a sport-focused therapist as we did last year, which costs athletes, as many may feel as though CAPS just ‘wouldn’t understand’ the sport aspect of their mental health.”  Availability to resources is one thing; accessibility is another. Athletes have such tight schedules, and if they cannot make room for mental health help, they will not do it. And some athletes may hesitate to book appointments because they don’t want teammates asking questions or for their teammates to worry or know something is wrong. Others may worry about how their coaches might perceive them if they find out they aren’t doing well mentally.  Simou said, “As both an athlete and an advocate for mental health, I think it would be very beneficial for our New Haven athletes to have a resource that can be sport-focused.” Mental health in college athletics is further complicated because it sits at the intersection of performance and identity. For many student-athletes, their sport isn’t just a hobby or pastime. It’s who they are, and part of their identity. Athletes are hard on themselves, so when performance dips or injuries happen, the emotional impact can be hard to navigate. When you add academic stress and personal life, it becomes clear why so many athletes report feeling overwhelmed in their daily lives.  Athletics can build discipline, confidence and lifelong friendships in collegiate sports. But expecting athletes to carry heavy mental pressure in silence doesn’t make them stronger. It mostly just makes them quieter. The national conversation about athlete mental health has started and the data proves it’s needed. It is important to question whether campuses are creating environments where athletes feel safe enough to actually use the support systems in place or if the culture of  “just push through it” is still louder.

Photo Credit - Erik Mclean As you get older, you come across paths that you have forgotten, and for me, it happens through music. Some songs become a part of your life’s soundtrack, and others are quiet and patient. They wait until the right moment to return to your memory as if it never left.  “Like a Stone” wasn’t just a song for me, it was a road that I will never forget riding on. The hummed feeling buzzed beneath something I was too young then to understand.  I was eight years old and sitting shotgun in a car with my dad. The faint smell of old leather and coolant was never able to get rid of the graveyard shift coffee that had turned cold. My feet dangled from my seat, and the world moved faster as the trees blurred into green shadows as they outran the dangers of something invisible. My baseball glove sat there next to me, a bit snug and very hopeful, just like all things were back then.  My father wasn’t a man of many words, but he never needed them. His music filled the silence, not with awkwardness, but a preciousness. We both knew that engaging in an outside conversation would somehow ruin the moment. The song would open low and deliberate, like footsteps that echoed down a school hallway. The bass didn’t just begin to play, it entered the room. It moved through the car and into my body, it settled somewhere between my ribs, and found a home in my heart.  There is a line that is about the longing for home and waiting. I just used to sing along then, not understanding but feeling it. At eight, the concept of loneliness was something that could be made out. It was known to me as more of a texture, or a quiet pause between. This song presented that pause, stretched it out, and made it into something beautiful.  My dad would tap his left pointer finger on the steering wheel, never missing a beat. He wasn’t performing; he was letting the music pass through him in the same way as me. I would sit there with my small and watchful eyes, absorbing everything with a realization that I was learning how to feel while being a dozen horizons away.  Those drives would impact me for the rest of my life. At home, some expectations make you feel as if it is performance review day, other things remain unspoken. The presence of my mother makes me feel the need to be careful, composed, and measured. I learned early on that I needed to have all my ducks in a row and needed to know how to present what was “acceptable”. Yet when I’m in the car, with the cool air of cracked windows swiping my neck as the wind whispers, I don’t have to act, I don’t have to fear.  The bass would come back, heavier with each beat. It invaded my chest, it was grounding. The feeling of weight would be lifted, and nothing needed to be said at all. The chorus would come next, reaching with desire about being home even when that place doesn’t belong to you. At the time, all I knew was the feeling, but I never doubted the words wouldn't follow. The feeling of searching would never leave.  The sight of the baseball field came too quickly. The crunching of the gravel under the tires as we entered the parking lot broke the spell just as the engine fell silent. The song lingered a few seconds longer, like it was soaking into the air and the seats, and then into our souls.  My dad would look at me, and that was enough to say everything needed. Years passed, as they do, without permission. Eight became eighteen, then older, and heavier. The world swelled, and so did the drawbacks. The places I once felt unquestionable became inescapable. The parts of myself that I jammed in the glovebox are ready to burst out. College is loud, but not the same kind I know. It's not just about the noise, but it’s pressure and assumptions. The constant buzz of being dedicated to work in a field you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be in.  Then one late, exhausting night, in a room that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, we found each other again.   It started just as I remembered it, low and deliberate. I recognized it without a second thought. Not just the first few notes, but the weight it had. The bass didn’t just enter; it returned home. It moved through my veins with familiarity, pumping into my heart. It was a love that I could have never expected.  All it took was one blink, and I was back in the car. The smell of the leather, the quiet that the rolled-up windows kept in, my father sitting beside me in the driver's seat. A stage in my life where the definition of complication meant almost missing recess because another kid wouldn’t stop talking as we lined up at the colorfully decorated oak door. Now it all made sense.  The lyrics screamed what I couldn’t understand back then.  The endless search.  The longing for something permanent in a world that will always be shifting, even if you can’t feel it under your feet.  The something in the song about “finding a home” and going around didn’t feel hypothetical. It was like a recurring thought that I had in the back of my mind for years that came back to the front.  I sat there, older in more ways than one, and feeling the bass vibrate my body again. Every time we pull something to the surface, it is revealing. All my childhood fears, the silence that became my living space and the small moments where peace became a lifeline without me ever noticing.  I realized that those moments I shared with my dad weren’t just hushed drives, they were anchors. Those moments proved that while there are pressures, assumptions and uncertainty, there is a space where I could just be myself. Maybe that's what this is all supposed to be about. Not just the process of waiting, but truly enduring. Not just what you are searching for, but remembering everything along the way.  What some might describe as the “good life” isn’t a straight path. Honestly, there might not be a destination or even a “true” direction. It can be built out of moments that have been carved from destruction, chaos and beauty. Pieces of yourself that you get a chance to reclaim after being buried alive.  There’s hell in this, too. Straight cinematic hell, but not the loud kind. The kind where parts of yourself get lost and you have to choose if you want to move forward without them. The kind where you realize the mask is easier to wear than being yourself. But it becomes the only thing that feels real. As the song comes to an end, I gain something I wouldn’t have had at the age of eight. The escape I saw in those moments was my dad; he was teaching me a lesson. Stillness and presence are the most powerful connections you can have, and sometimes you just don't need words.  The song faded, and my automix began to transition us to the current year. The feeling ached for a long time after. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to search for anchors. I finally found the one that would secure me. I’m not completely repaired nor wrapped, yet it’s enough to know that things are real.  Like a stone, perhaps. Unfelt and static. But fixed, established. Alive.

Photo by John Mercatante Contributing Writer John Mercatante First Night Under La Tour Eiffel I thought I had a good idea what La Tour Eiffel would be like before arriving in Paris. There were so many photos and postcards that I thought that it would feel familiar or small enough to see with one glance. But as I walked towards it on a nice warm night with my girlfriend, the illusion of La Tour Eiffel changed every time I took a step closer to it until we finally got to the base.  We were standing with our necks craned back, quiet as ever and taking in every single part of the beautiful structure. I found La Tour Eiffel to be like some vast backdrop rather than something built; it was really fine-looking and genuine. There were a lot of people around us. The fact that they seemed frozen in time and space, as if they were all taking a breath and couldn’t release their breath until they arrived at the ending sight of the tower, was inspiring to me.  I’ll never forget my picture of La Tour Eiffel, however, I’ll always remember how I felt when I first saw that magnificent and grand structure. Before I went to La Tour Eiffel and was able to see its magnificent illumination and grandeur, all I had to go by in my imagination were photographs of La Tour Eiffel and what I believed to be its grandness. Not knowing that it existed beyond my imagination blew me away. Photo by John Mercatante Getting Lost in Venice Expectations for Venice's magic included structure - like a work of art, the gondolas, canals and the bridges are aligned in an orderly manner. What I found was chaos in a maze of beauty.  My girlfriend and I gave up trying to figure out where we were going or how to get there by using maps! We got lost wandering off the beaten path from tourists, only to find ourselves in beautiful secluded areas that most tourists would never discover. At times I saw gondolas drifting by me, and I instantly realized that the visual beauty of Venice is outdone by the fact that for many locals the aerial views provide an experience of normalcy.  Riding in a gondola is so soothing and calming, whereas standing and watching the gondola cruise by gave me an experience that provided me with more of a spiritual connection than I had imagined would occur by visiting Venice.  In Venice, photography isn’t the only thing you get to experience. There’s more to it than that. Everything about Venice was better than what I had expected. There’s something about Venice that goes at its own pace despite your readiness. Photo by John Mercatante A Quiet Sunset in Viareggio Initially, I thought Viareggio would offer me something beautiful and staged at the same time – a place swarming with tourists who try to shoot the perfect sunset on the seacoast. Yet the situation proved to be very different.  After having walked along the shore with my girlfriend, I could sense the serenity and the openness of everything around us – the openness of the huge Mediterranean that lay at our feet. Slowly but surely the sun started to go down and the sky began filling with diverse colors.  People were leaving the sea coast one by one, until we became the last two on it. All of it happened by itself, nothing artificial was put into action – there was no one who tried to organize a great scene. Nevertheless, being impressed by the scenery, I still took a shot for my photo collection. The picture left in my memory was not a photo, but its mood and emotions. Photo by John Mercatante Standing Before the Duomo Though I had seen images of it and despite knowing that it was big, there was no way I could have prepared myself for the sheer size of the Duomo of Florence and the level of detail with which it was made.   Once my girlfriend and I made that turn to see the Duomo, we both stood speechless. There was just so much detail on the outside of the Duomo to be seen. I expected to be blown away by the size of the building but I was left blown away by everything that was involved in making this piece of architecture. It told a story of the world over the past several hundred years and all it took for me to understand it was the exterior of the Duomo.  While I expected to enjoy the grandeur of the Duomo, actually experiencing the grandeur went above and beyond my expectations when you consider all of the craftsmanship, size and the immense amount of human labour that went into each generation of work. Photos may have provided a glimpse of beauty, however, they could never have conveyed the sense of one's own insignificance in comparison to the creation that would last for hundreds of years. Photo by John Mercatante Inside the Colosseum: Feeling History The Colosseum is a  remnant of a lost civilization. I envisioned it being more tourist-driven today, but the colosseum is still something magnificent. The pictures we saw were of something huge but age has broken it down. Standing in line with my girlfriend at the entrance I was surprised at how heavy and historical the building felt as we entered. While I was looking down into the middle of it, I could visualize everything that had taken place there, including all the people that were once there and how much history has been embedded into the walls.  I was impressed by more than the Colosseum’s size. It also provided me with a sense of connection to the past while standing at the Colosseum. I took a picture of it so I could show you how big it is, but my biggest takeaway about the Colosseum was that everything within its walls is very alive and has been alive for many years. It is much bigger than any single photo could show you.

Photo Credit: Djemima Duvernat When someone asks me about my favorite book, the answer comes with no hesitation: “The Catcher in the Rye." The truth goes beyond how amazing the book itself is; my love for the book is attached to the day I received it. It was my very first English class in the United States; I was drowning, not in the Atlantic Ocean I had crossed to get here, but in the sea of unfamiliar language. I felt so lonely even though I was surrounded by other students. I was overwhelmed by my confusion. The voices around me blurred into a kind of static I could not decipher, and I sat in that plastic chair, feeling like a ghost in my own body. Then my teacher handed me a French translation of J.D Salinger’s novel, and in that moment, everything changed. Suddenly, I felt seen; I no longer felt so alone.  My teacher could have given me a simplified English version, or not cared at all. Instead, she handed me love wrapped in beautiful literature in a language I could understand. She was telling me that while I learned a brand-new language, I didn’t have to lose myself. I am not sure if she was aware of what that gesture meant for me. A book in an English class is such a small thing to hand to someone, and yet the weight of it, the intention behind it meant the whole world to me. Without using words, she told me that I belong there just like any other student in the class. Her kindness opened a door for me, but it was Holden Caulfield who walked me through it.  What I love the most about the novel is the protagonist’s honesty and vulnerability. From the first line to the last one, he was completely honest with his audience, offering himself just as he was. It was the total opposite of what I was doing to fit into this new country. I was obsessed with doing things perfectly, from smoothing over my accent to the constant translating happening in my head. Every word that came out of my mouth was rehearsed beforehand and checked for errors like a student before an exam. Holden’s messy way of speaking gave me a sense of comfort; he spoke in fragments and repetitions just as his thoughts formed in his mind. Reading the novel in French gave me a strange kind of experience; it felt nostalgic in a way where if I didn’t hold on to this book, then I would disappear before I knew it. There was something deeply sad about reading a book set in New York, a city I could see from a distance, in the language of a home I had left behind. The two worlds met inside those pages, and for a few hours, I belonged to both at once.  When my English improved, and I read the novel in its original language, I experienced a different feeling. I was able to pick exactly what the author was portraying in the novel. The rhythm of “and all” and “it really did.” These words were the rhythm of a mind speaking to itself, and then letting it out for the world to see. These small linguistic patterns were so real, more real than I felt in my own body. Reading the same story twice, in two different languages, felt like watching the same film in color after seeing it in black and white. The story had not changed, but I had, and that changed everything about how I received it. The second reading was not a repetition; it was a completion. It closed a wound that I did not realize that I had.  This realization taught me something very valuable. I had focused on being perfect and not making mistakes, and I had forgotten that language could be an instrument of truth rather than plain accuracy. Holden showed me that my voice mattered more than perfection. I was navigating the gap between languages and cultures, and in my pursuit of perfection, I had forgotten who I was. I had treated English like a costume, something to put on carefully each morning so that no one would notice I was different underneath. But Holden, he never put on a show. He was the real him the entire novel; he showed up raw and vulnerable and refused to apologize. That was what made him unforgettable. The novel’s core idea of a catcher in the rye who saves children from falling off a cliff becomes a metaphor for my own life experience. Moving to a new country has its own kind of loss of innocence. I left behind not just a place, but I left home and an entire version of myself, a version who was happy, who moved through the world with ease and confidence, who never had to think twice before speaking. A version I tried hard to recreate.  Holden’s world was full of phoniness, people who performed roles that they did not question, who said the right things but did not mean them. I recognized myself immediately. I was part of the same people wearing masks to survive the day. I was constantly performing; I had so many versions of myself that I had lost track of the original. There was the version of me who smiled and chatted on the phone with my mother even when I was dying in class. There was the version of me who cried herself to sleep and cried some more in the shower in the hope of muffling the noise. None of those versions were bad or lies; they were survival. But survival and authenticity are not the same thing at all, and reading Holden’s furious refusal to pretend reminded me that I did not want to disappear into one of those versions of me. "The Catcher in the Rye" is my favorite book, not because it is perfect, but because it is the opposite. It taught me that being broken and honest is worth more than being fake and polished. I carry that lesson with me in every language I speak. When I write now, in English, I try to remember what Holden taught me; my accent is not something to smooth over, it is the proof of a journey. Every imperfect sentence I have ever spoken in these languages is a mark of someone who crossed an ocean and refused in the end to disappear.

Photo by Azam Hostetler SATIRE Young adults truly have made the most of knowledge being at their fingertips in the current digital age, and now that I’ve well established myself in university life, it really does show.  American standards of education are strong, given that we spend so much money on it in this country; in fact, a lot more than many other countries do. Connecticut is even ranked near the top in public education spending   in comparison to other states, despite relying mostly on local funds, which may or may not subsequently reflect stark income inequality.  Recent innovations in artificial intelligence make for easy research gathering, and this subsequently frees up students’ minds by allowing them to focus on other intellectual goals. These include habits of hitting textbooks for casual re-reads or chatting with strangers about philosophy in dormitory lounges. Having outgrown impulses of instant gratification learned from childhood, in favor of persistent trial and error in the grand pursuit of personal growth and global curiosity, I barely see students using AI to cheat.  Additionally, since the noble spirit of Classical Athens is imbued  in a tremendous amount of our Western values and significant architecture, it makes sense that we also take their competency of rigorous learning to heart. By the time students get to college, students interested in English are well versed in Shakespearean tragedies or global perspectives of human history dating back to even before the birth of Christ. Students expressing interest in the humanities are given ample resources to flourish, given that we spend so much money on education. Digital citations must be credible articles or peer-reviewed publications for assignments, lest misinformation spread. Many schools also start kids reading and writing early, so that it becomes a habit, getting them addicted to curiosity and learning as opposed to YouTube shorts. I’ve been told that numerous countries  around the globe outperform America in high school mathematics, which confused me when I first heard it. However, I’m also fairly certain they’re a lot more stressed out, given the strict level of discipline. A lot of those students overseas seem pushed to the brink of academic exhaustion, I feel, whereas here we encourage young adults to maintain a healthy balance of social life and studious habits. Smartphones act as pocket dictionaries for many young adults. Yesterday, a classmate of mine who had just returned from the gym spoke of perspiration exuding from his garments and how he must return home to fetch Old Spice hastily. You see, so much knowledge is readily available that adolescent vocabulary has expanded tenfold in the past decade. Instead of getting mad at the television, many students take handwritten notes on Fox News and CNN and cite ‘Orwellian politics,’ before browsing sites such as the Associated Press and afterwards debating with other students’ disagreements.  Students also have the privilege of accessible mental health resources, which allow people of all walks of life to express their troubles and function better socially and societally. Its effects have been proven by science, which, as a result of its credibility as an outlet, fuels them to flock towards therapy despite fear. Classes like Personal Finance, Modern Cybersecurity defense, The US Healthcare System 101 and Basics of Car Mechanics are mandatory in college. This is to ensure that no one misses important life skills, lest they ever get taken advantage of, they shall be armed with knowledge. Additionally, by the time students in America progress to the level of university education, we make sure they are not required to take core classes. The reasoning is that they have already taken them in high school, and despite some mandatory programs which sponsors deem necessary, most of the experience is catered to mastering their chosen career craft of special interest.  Phones are used as tools, not crutches. Smartphone alerts are encouraged to be perceived as helpful rather than stressful. In other words, accessibility features like grayscale, monitored usage, proper nightly routines and scheduled detox times ensure that electronics are not abused yet still utilized for benefit. Students are able to read news articles and audio books or ebooks to absorb culture on the go. Most people aren’t concerned with gossip about celebrities, as they know that they don’t impact their life, nor do unhealthy body standards, as we encourage students to remember that comparison to others is the thief of joy.  With constant access to computers and young adults absorbing so much knowledge at once, some have quite literally doubled their brain size throughout four years, according to several universities conducting intelligence censuses. An acquaintance of mine at college woke up with a neurological growth spurt after a chemical engineering lecture that was particularly awe-inspiring. I spotted her in the hallways with a forehead mass that I’d never seen before.  To address income inequality and different backgrounds in education, schools in America use equity to counter inevitable issues such as learning disabilities, tutoring, finances and stressful home life. They even provide proper counseling services.  Another huge issue is  teaching shortages , which is a critical issue to overcome; necessary to ensure classroom attendance is sizable enough to where their individual voice can still be heard. To achieve a substantial number of qualified professionals, especially at the higher education level, funds are allocated for proper salaries and resources to avoid staff burnout and increase professor appreciation.  Faculty of diverse backgrounds are sought after, especially in areas of need for multilingual student support, as despite controversial federal immigration crackdowns, the Department of Education understands the value of supporting human growth as a long-term investment. Devastating funding freezes for the Department of Education have been countered by an abundance of local billionaires, who thankfully stepped in to save public education in many K-12 schools nationwide. Overall, I am grateful to live in a system where taxpayer dollars are used on the correct and most efficient uses of the funds to create intelligent and well-rounded young adults who feel confident to take on the world that previous generations destroyed. Many classes also avoided having tests worth 50% of your semester grade, instead diversifying assignments with helpful point-based grading systems. They also answer emails on time. Responding to emails is very important for effective communication in professional and higher-level academic scenarios.  All these loans taken out for college tuition are ultimately paying off for me and many others who are excited to enter the growing job market. Thanks to the internet for making me smarter and not trying to take advantage of my attention span, I’ll have to say. Thanks for the recommended annual college student bias test to see what I need to work on in my global perspective, as well as my eight hours of sleep without melatonin. Over and out.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels SATIRE After the overflowing sound of praise for Justin Baldoni’s “It Ends With Us” 2024 and Josh Boone’s “Regretting You” 2025, I should have known I would yet again be blown away by another Colleen Hoover book turning into a movie.  Like the world renowned “Don’t Worry Darling” actor Harry Styles once said, "My favorite thing about the movie is, like, it feels like a movie. It feels like a real, like, you know, go-to-the-theater-film movie." “Reminders of Him” feels like the quintessential movie you would go to the theater to see, but it also differs from the quote from Styles. What I liked about the Colleen Hoover movie was that it felt like a one hour and 55 minute trailer.  You know the giddy feeling you get when you decide to read a 100,000 word fanfiction all in one night, so you skip all the paragraphs with descriptions and only read the dialogue? I got the same feeling when watching this movie. The scenes in the trailer were exactly the same as in the actual film. The editing didn’t change. “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron was still blasting in the background of the real scene and wasn’t just a choice for the trailer. It all felt familiar, like when you listen to a new song Spotify recommended, and you suddenly hear the 15 second clip of the song that went viral on TikTok. The film follows the story of a woman named Kenna, played by Maika Monroe, who is behind the wheel when she gets in a car accident with her boyfriend Scotty. Scotty dies because of Kenna’s alleged negligence. Kenna pleads guilty and later finds out she was pregnant with Scotty’s child. She gives birth while serving her sentence in prison, and the child is immediately taken from her to live with Scotty’s parents. We, as the viewers, receive this information through Kenna’s flashbacks. One scene is a memory from the day of the accident which also happened to be Scotty’s birthday. Kenna and Scotty had dinner with his parents before going off by themselves. I liked how the scene with the parents really replicates what it is like to think back to a memory. The jump cuts every three seconds and the random zoomed-in shots did a great job conveying how memories can be unclear or spotty. There’s no need to linger on a shot for too long and give room to connect with the characters. Who needs that? The characters themselves are closed off. We don’t need to relate to them. The main premise of the movie is what happens after Kenna is released from prison and she wants to have a relationship with her daughter, while everyone in the family or close to them hates her. Then, the plot goes in a direction no one would ever expect. Scotty’s best friend, Ledger, played by Tyriq Withers, falls in love with Kenna. The chemistry between Withers and Monroe was sizzling. It was really charming how it felt like I was watching a high school play when I watched the two actors showcase their characters falling in love. The love Ledger has for Kenna is clear as day with the way Withers dons a negative facial expression of skepticism while watching Monroe’s character from afar.  And the tension they had? Off the charts. There would be brief pauses before an action occurred, where you could see Monroe maneuvering herself to look like Withers pins her against a wall in her apartment. That moment made me blush. Another thing I can compliment the movie for is not making Lauren Graham work too hard. She played Scotty’s mother and for most of the movie, she just has a concerned expression and runs away with the child if Kenna is nearby. The director of the movie must have seen Lauren Graham and said, “Oh, hey. That’s the woman who played Lorelai Gilmore. Let’s give her a break and not have her act for once. She’s done enough.” How considerate. There’s no doubt the actors in this film gave it their all in their performances. You could tell they really wanted to take part in this film. In fact, in a recent press interview with The Trauma Romantic, Withers, who was previously in the horror movie “Him,” said that he accepted the role in the Colleen Hoover movie because it reminded him of “Him.”  “You know, because both characters are football players. And I played college football. So in a way, ‘Reminders of Him’ and ‘Him’ also remind me of me,” Withers said. I couldn’t have said it better myself. Overall, I had a great time watching the movie. The acting was top-tier. The plot was realistic and very original. The editing kept you immersed in the movie with all the random cuts. My only suggestion would have been to shoot the movie vertically so I could watch all the parts on TikTok.

Photo by Anaylee Hough SATIRE When I was in middle school, I got the chance to meet celebrities. I got to see one of my favorite artists, the global pop star, Rihanna! She was wearing a silky red two-piece with even more dazzling jewelry. She even decided to pose for us to take her picture. Her posture was so still, I’m surprised she stayed in that position for so long. We all crowded around her, waiting for a chance to speak with her. Some of my favorite songs by her are Cockiness, James Joint and L.E.M.O.N, a song that she released with the well-known producer and artist, Pharrell Williams.  Photo by Anaylee Hough Photo by Anaylee Hough Speaking of the famous producer Pharrell Williams, I got to see him as well! He was wearing a red leather jacket with black jeans. Pharrell is well known for producing a vast amount of songs for different artists in different genres. His songs are very distinct and you can tell a song is made by him if there are four beats at the start of the song. Ever since I learned this, I love pointing it out when I hear a song play. One of my favorite songs ever by Tyler, the Creator, was produced by Pharrell. The name of the song is “Are We Still Friends.” You can hear Pharrell’s signature four beats at the beginning of the song. Some more of my favorite songs by Pharrell are “Beautiful” featuring Snoop Dogg and “Get Lucky,” which he made with his group Daft Punk. I also got to meet actress and pop singer Selena Gomez. She was wearing a beautiful black dress. I would watch her show “Wizards of Waverly Place” when I was younger, which was one of my favorite TV shows growing up. I was so excited to see her that day. It felt like an unreal experience honestly. I couldn’t believe she was right in front of me. Some of my favorite songs by her are “Come and Get It,” “Lose You to Love Me” and “Same Old Love.” I was so excited to see her because she was a huge part of my childhood.  Photo by Anaylee Hough Photo by Anaylee Hough I even got to see Prince. Middle school me knew he was very popular back in the 80s and 90s. He was wearing his signature purple coat. The only song I knew by him was “Purple Rain.” I saw him in 2017, even though he passed away a year before. I also got the chance to see the legendary King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson. He was wearing his famous bedazzled glove and one of his staple pieces, the sparkly black jacket. He passed away before I was born, but I know the impact he left on the music industry and society as a whole.  As a society, we tend to put celebrities on a pedestal. When we see them in person, we get excited and want autographs, conversations and pictures with them. Why do we give them this much power over us? Madame Tussaud's is a museum full of celebrity wax figures. The museum is popular and many people enjoy going. In middle school, I was so thrilled to go to the museum as a school trip because I heard people enjoyed their time there.  However, now that I’m older, I believe it’s a bit peculiar. The concept of being excited to meet another human being with whom we know nothing about. Even if it’s a fake version of them, like a wax figure. Don't get me wrong, I still get excited when I see a celebrity, but I do think it’s interesting, the level of impact they have on society. At the end of the day, they’re regular people just like us and some of them want to be treated as such. I guess being excited to see other people is a part of human nature. No Michael Jackson pun intended.

Photo credit - Nataliya Vaitkevich SATIRE There are only a few characters who have graced American literature with their chaotic charm, balanced with a curation of flair, more than Daisy Buchanan in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby.” While some readers praise Gatsby’s powerful ambition or Nick’s reserved perceptiveness, those who are more intellectual would applaud Daisy’s grand becoming of the quiet, powerful and competent driving force of this novel. She is a marvelous person, like gold and glitter, surprising at first, but then inescapable once it settles upon everything she touches.  When we first lay our eyes on Daisy, she appears to fit into this common role of a fragile woman who becomes an object of desire. One of the essences of description relies on her voice. Daisy speaks in a way that teeters between laughter and collapse. Which, thankfully, demonstrates her ability to act decisively in any way, shape, or form. Looking at things, this is the peak of Daisy’s brilliance. While we have other characters who continuously tire themselves out by amassing fortunes, articulating their moral compasses or chasing fever dreams, Daisy is one who simply exists, and in doing so, she becomes the conductor who orchestrates the novel's emotional and economic symphony. The way Gatsby throws the most extravagant parties reshapes his image and conjures his identity, all for the love of Daisy. To extinguish neutrality, Nick has to make sure he has a good moral sense of her. Then you have Tom, although he has a bluster, he wraps himself around her like an angry, thick fog flooding the dock. Daisy never needed to act; as she is the one who inspires action, making her the most effective character.  Those who have praised the book have painted Daisy as being careless, flat and even inconclusive. This, of course, is a simple scholarly error of how logical Daisy is, realistically. Why would you trouble about  making difficult choices, when you can allow different circumstances and the kind gentlemen around to decide for you?  The master of disguised innocence, as tenable as it is, has been mastered by Daisy Buchanan. When emotional confrontation arises, Daisy doesn't lose her cool. She just flows, and by flowing, she ensures that direct threats are avoided and that nothing sticks to her back. The level of skill she possesses is so cultivating that after reading the novel, she remained the center of the novel’s tragedy and distanced herself from the nature of consequences. Now that is an excellent notion.  One of the most powerful and heavily referenced tools in her belt would be her voice. As it is notoriously remarked as “full of money,” it also deserves to be recognized as an atmosphere. The fellows who engage in Daisy’s company don’t just listen to her; they consume her like alcohol.  There is no way that Gatsby, a man who built his entire identity, reinvented himself, driven by true desire, is unraveled by the erect appeal of Daisy Buchanan by mere luck. This world is one where everyone is striving in their own light. Daisy has been walking this road for some time, not because she rooted herself, but because she personifies it.   Even looking at Daisy in her most unappealing moments can be reimaged as an indication of her excellence. Where we see others suffer from moral discouragement, an upfront reading offers insight into a calculated self-survival tactic. Her own comfort was prioritized and protected by the lines of consistency with thick borders of esteem. This novel is filled with a plethora of characters who end up destroying themselves as they chase unrealistic ideals they believe will fill the lonely holes in their hearts. Daisy stands above all else, as the only true one who understands a key indispensable principle. Survival can be easy when you only carry your own bag. Why be a true hero when you can be an invulnerable force?  However, one cannot stray from the cultural context that our noble author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, is attuned to. Daisy has more than one function. One is a literal human being, but the other is a very important symbol. Daisy represents prosperity, charm, and the subtle notions of the American Dream. Looking at the qualities created, distant and surprisingly depressing when looking at the smaller details. But with that, Daisy still excels. While Gatsby eventually croaks under the weight of his illusions and Nick has to leave, no longer having an anchor in West Egg, Daisy continues nonetheless. There is no change in her stride, nor a burden. She is a prize that never truly had to be won in order to be put in the display case, the unjustifiable dream.  At the end of it all, the award for “best” supporting character goes to Daisy Buchanan from the novel, “The Great Gatsby.” Now, this may sound challenging, but it is actually oddly logical. She influences the narrative in such a vast way without trying at all. She shapes those results without any risk of liability and leaves a paper trail of results she never has to compile.  Through the narrative of yearning, passion and the inquiry into connection, Daisy gives us a path we didn't know we had. One that is strategic in detachment, quietly overpowers and has control of things just out of others' reach. If there is nothing else to say about her, she proves that the most competent role in the eyes of human drama is the one who never has to try in actuality, but still always creates the most friction.