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 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.

SATIRE West Haven, April 1 2026 - The University of New Haven announced the appointment of two new support staff in the early afternoon, Wednesday. President Frederiksen says the role will improve communication between students and faculty in executive leadership. Students can expect to meet these eager faculty in Fall 2026. Following a comprehensive search through industry channels, Charles Ponzi Sheen and B. Leeve Ables have both been appointed as “Administrative Storytellers” in the university Office of Marketing and Communications. Each of the two cite expertise in narrative nonfiction & historical fiction writing for application in human resources. Ables has worked for 35 years in early childhood education, teaching kindergarten children social and emotional learning. His recent writing experience at the Onion newsletter  placed Ables high on the list of candidates for this role. Both Ables and Ponzi received B.S. Political Science degrees from Yale University and Florida Memorial University. Ponzi has been praised for his clear, conscientious and oxymoronic prose in Spectacular Business Management Magazine (2015), readable at SBMM.com . Ponzi boasts a rich philanthropic career, donating his best strategically ambiguous writing samples to artificial intelligence corporations as training data. The announcement included a brief glimpse at how Ables and Ponzi will be working in the Office of Marketing and Communication. Students inquiring about systemic changes in administration, personnel matters, proper usage of doors and accessways, diversity, equity, inclusion or accessibility and belonging, will be encouraged to email the “Admin Answers” contact in Microsoft Outlook, or send a text chat to the administrative storytellers in the university Navigate portal. One of either Ponzi or Ables will respond according to their professional availability and office hours, not disclosed at this time. President Frederiksen explained his mindset while creating these appointee positions to Horseshoe Magazine. “That old classical literature is very dear to my heart,” said Pres. Frederiksen, “You see we live in a global world. That should say enough on its own.. of how essential it is to speak plainly to students.” We are happy to share some of President Frederiksen’s favorite reading here . The president has spoken to “every single staff member at the university” about these impactful decisions. “I was very excited to show off my little-known quintillingualism. I’m a true polyglot to boot.” said Pres. Frederiksen. The university president claimed to speak fluent Uzbek, Mongolian, Python and Afrikaans. The President also said these discussions with staff were at a different campus, and subject to university staff confidentiality policies. Married or otherwise romantically committed staff members have declined to comment, as well. We contacted David Cranshaw, director of communications and public relations for the university, to understand how these two writers will be involved with the Charger Bulletin and student engagement. Horseshoe’s Gabriella Pinto, executive editor, received an automatic reply from the Office of Marketing and Communications, disclosing that “certain positions are being reviewed for consolidation at this time, as the university addresses unforeseen challenges in the global education industry.” While searching for clarification on the meaning of this message, Abigail Riggins, managing editor of the Horseshoe Magazine, has allegedly seen a faint, “wisp-like” and “mildly-irritated” vision of Cranshaw in her daydreams. Further details such as who is in what position have yet to be released, however students are encouraged to become familiar with their new faculty mentors and see how they can help for Fall semester ‘26. (Images of “Able”  and “Ponzi”  used for this article are in fair use, and credited to Shuttershock)

Photo credit - Patch Bowen, Horseshoe SATIRE Our very loving president, Donald Trump, had his “Avengers” moment when he picked the name for the military operation against Iran. Nobody saw it coming, of course, except anyone who has been paying even the slightest attention to his entire political career. The man has never exactly been subtle about his personality nor his intentions. I mean, let’s talk about it, “ Epic Fury ,” that is the kind of name a 15-year-old would type into a video game lobby at 3 a.m. after losing a few rounds in a row. It is giving the energy of someone who spent a lot of time watching too many Bruce Lee movies and never quite got over it. The horrifying truth, though, is that no hero will be coming to save us, and there won’t be any shawarma  break.  What makes this situation particularly fascinating is that the name is almost besides the point because the real show has been watching the entire cabinet assemble like a superhero team no one asked for. Trump appointed himself as Iron Man of this story, convinced he is the smartest person in every room he walks into. The rest of the administration has been faithfully suiting up alongside him, ready for combat. Secretary of State Marco Rubio plays the role of Bruce Banner, calm, measured, always trying to sound like the reasonable one in the group. Secretary of War Pete Hegseth, and yes, that title alone deserves its very own comic book. It is giving Thor energy, who can lift my special hammer? He is loud, dramatic and absolutely certain that whatever he just said has the utmost significance. Then there is Vance, the human torch of the operation, always on fire, always saying something that probably should have stayed in the group chat, and somehow always getting away with it.  Now, here is where it gets truly cinematic, because if the first iteration of this administration was the Avengers assembling, then the second iteration is unmistakably the “Fantastic Four.” Not the good “Fantastic Four,” not even the decent one. We are talking about the 2015 version . The reboot nobody wanted, written by people who had clearly never read a single issue of the source material, produced at a budget that somehow still looked cheap, and released to an audience that greeted it with the kind of silence usually reserved for car accidents. This is the vibe this administration is giving. I mean, think about it, in the 2015 “Fantastic Four,” a group of overly confident people with access to technology they clearly did not understand opened a portal to another dimension and immediately made everything catastrophically worse. Sound familiar? These are people who were so certain they were doing something historic and groundbreaking. The critics hated it. The audience stayed home. And yet it kept going, scene after painful scene, somehow lasting longer than anyone thought physically possible. The parallels are not subtle. They are the loudest parallels that have ever paralleled.  What is especially remarkable about Operation Epic Fury is the confidence with which it was executed. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just the absolute, unshakable certainty of a man who once put his name on a steak  and genuinely believed that the world was ready for that. And look, you have to respect the confidence in the same way you respect a seagull that tries to steal your food. It should not work. There is no world in which it should work.Yet, there it goes, flapping its wings with complete conviction, crying your food away.  The name itself, though, is the crown jewel of all of this. “Epic Fury.” Say it out loud. This is the name you would find on an energy drink at a random gas station in the middle of the night. Let the record show that in the United States of America, historical records, somewhere between footnotes about the economy and the price of eggs, future generations will learn that a military campaign called Epic Fury was launched, and they simply assume it was a typo. But maybe that is the point. Maybe the name is a message. Maybe it is a warning. Maybe it is a branding exercise. Maybe the man has simply watched so many action movies that the line between real life and a cinematic universe dissolved somewhere around 2015, and no one around him had the courage, or the job security, to point it out. Whatever the reason, we are here now. We are living inside this horror movie. The popcorn is gone. The theater is uncomfortable. The runtime is unclear. And the credits, whenever they finally roll, are going to be the most memorable ones in history.

(Photo by Anaylee Hough) Reminiscing is a bittersweet feeling. With all the snow and gloom that we are getting here in the north recently, I can’t stop thinking about the sunny South. I went to South Carolina with my family to visit my great aunt, whom I’d never met before, in a small town called Summerton. My grandmother was born and raised there, and I had never been to the South before, so I was excited for a change in scenery as a girl from the city that never sleeps.  With a population of less than 800 people and miles and miles of fields and grass, Summerton was two hours away from the airport, and was definitely different from the polluted and bustling city of New York. The country was quiet with only a handful of cars passing by. Once my family and I got to my great aunt's house, my cousin welcomed us and told us that a guy down the road had just come over and gotten a snake that was slithering around the house for her. This is when I knew I wasn’t meant to be a southern belle.  (Photo by Anaylee Hough) (Photo by Anaylee Hough) One of my favorite parts of the trip was trying the breakfast food chain Waffle House for the first time. I had heard so much about the franchise and had wanted to try it for so long. I prefer pancakes over waffles, but my yearning to try Waffle House overcame that. The waffles tasted like cakes, the eggs were hot and cheesy and the sausage links were juicy. It was the perfect breakfast platter. Waffle House had a variety of different breakfast foods to eat, and it was a good amount of food for such a low price! Simply thinking about it makes my mouth water. I crave it almost all the time now.  On the two-hour ride to Summerton, I passed by many fields with farm animals. Seeing horses on the side of the road was very amusing. My little sister and I were so excited. My grandmother told me stories about how she lived on a farm and had to cater to animals. I personally wouldn’t have the ability to live on a farm in the middle of nowhere, but it seems like it would be a fun thing to experience.  (Photo by Anaylee Hough) (Photo by Anaylee Hough) After leaving Summerton, the real vacation began. Another two-hour drive, and my family and I made it to Myrtle Beach. We stayed at a hotel named Caribbean Resort with an ocean view. The pool and beach were one of my favorite parts of the trip. It was the middle of September, and the area was still very much active with tourists. The weather was perfect, not too hot with a nice breeze. Since my trip was during September classes were in session. I still had assignments to do, so I was getting those done while in my bathing suit. School always comes before fun! A couple of blocks down from the hotel was a huge ferris wheel called the SkyWheel. The ferris wheel is almost 200 feet tall, and you can definitely feel it while you're on it. It’s right by the beach, so it becomes even more intimidating at the top. I went at night, which added an extra scary feeling just seeing pure darkness below the water. There's a button in the middle of the cart that you can press at any time to get off. My aunt's fear of heights overcame her, and she ended up pressing it. It wasn’t fun for her, but I surely enjoyed it.  South Carolina showed me a different experience that I wasn’t used to. I was able to go deep in the South, where tourism was scarce. This made the whole experience feel more authentic. I was able to meet family members that I’ve never met before that I would always hear so much about growing up. Even though I personally wouldn’t reside in the South, it definitely left an impression on me that I will always hold dearly.

Photo via Washington Post - “ Members of the Army, Marines and National Guard  in the District remained on patrol in the capital until April 16. (UPI)” Revolution seems ever more daunting as I learn the language of politics. My head feels heavy on my shoulders, with migraines spurred on by the latest newscycle. I think about my place in this world and feel small. I feel scared. So many of us are. Some of us are immediately threatened by state violence, and many of us feel powerless to protect them. Many more are conditioned to turn away rather than face the violence with us. I try hoping that they are afraid too. I try including them in a vision of peace, peace I strive towards in my actions and choices. I’ve drafted this many times in journals and scrapbooks – on the margins of papers through three years of activism. Some of those little notes taught me more than I know now. Please bear with me, some of these topics are difficult to simplify. I urge you to ask these same questions to yourself. This essay is only a compassionate call to action. Dissenting is the last decision someone makes as an individual. Not that any action of disagreement is a rejection of self interest, nor abandonment of your own needs. Being an individual is not a terrible thing, but what I mean to describe here is a decision to act and think collectively, rather than move through the world as if you were not a part of it. Easier to point out than to accept. We need more time. This goes against school policy. I’m not risking my degree. We can’t force people to participate. Nobody is going to listen. I don’t do politics. I wouldn’t know how to do that. Someone else would be better. This isn’t an issue here. There are a lot of ways to say “I can’t.” I have to say “I can’t” too, sometimes, when the strain is too much on my spirit. After all, some of us are more at risk than others. It is the greatest trap of capitalism: Who has the time, who has the money, who has the energy, who has the ability, or the patience, or the bandwidth, and on and on. Revolutionaries throughout history have struggled to solve this problem: “the means” with which we keep fighting. Not a lot of us have them, that much is not our fault. This is a good moment to recall our emotions after Trump’s first, and now second, term in office. How often American liberals (a majority being white) treated oppressed minorities as if we were responsible for Trump’s power. Narratives are popular about the Arab communities in Michigan, or Haitian immigrants in the major cities or Latino Trump supporters in the blue states.  A slanted headline can kill someone, and it has. Our oppression must be our responsibility because white ignorance of reality is easier that way. So, what about the poor whites, or the moderate white women, or the millions of young, white, non-voters in urban centers? What about the ones with the means to vote, means to eat and means to speak freely? “ I get it .” Wrote Isaac J. Bailey, in his 2020 book “ Why Didn’t We Riot ?” “ None of us is above reproach on an issue so emotional, complex, vexing, and ever evolving as race in the United States of America. ” Bailey’s capacity for care shows through the conversations he has with cops, whites and politicians in this book. He does not make the mistake of admonishing white Americans from their complicity in Trump’s racist authoritarianism. “Black people are imperfect, too. But there are some racial lines black voters would not cross.” Bailey writes, “To make a bigoted man president is to inflict his bigotry upon black and brown communities, no matter the reason you choose to support him.” Bailey explores his own anger after Trump, anger which we repress and replace with respectability to survive in a white America in denial about its oppressive conditions. White Americans, obviously, did not dissent from the racial order in 2016, nor did they in 2024. I say all this to make a key point about individualism. Suffering and exploitation continues because of unwillingness to abandon capitalism’s sparse privileges. “This simplistic, individualistic notion of responsibility, that denies the impact of history, is precisely the reason so many historical [events] have been defined by racial explosions.” says Angela Y. Davis, speaking to a crowded cultural centre in Barcelona, Spain. We don’t have time here to talk about neoliberalism but understand it as the dominant social order. The neoliberal definition of ‘individual’ dehumanizes us as people. An individual is no more than a collection of skills to sell in a market for their own financial interest.  Community members are reduced to businesses competing for survival against each other. Davis draws our attention to the way individualism makes excuses for systemic racism today, “We have never seriously considered the irreparable damage done by the enslavement of African descendent people and the genocidal colonization of indigenous people.” Davis’s thoughts developed from her many confrontations within our capitalist system. She says, “Revolutionary change is not possible as long as we do not address the extent to which repressive apparatus preserves these racist histories.” Revolutionaries are always in conversation with each other throughout the world, but also throughout time. Robin D.G Kelley, an abolitionist scholar from whom I have learned much of my politics, has studied extensively the intersections of race, class, gender and revolutionary struggle. “One, race and gender are not incidental or accidental features of the global capitalist order,” he explains. Kelley asserts that race “is a structure of power,” and names race as “a means of structuring power through difference.” Kelley led a seminar with students at the Haven Wright Center for Social Justice, fittingly named “Where Do We Go From Here?” A student asked him “the means” question, asking Kelley how to go from talking about change to engaging in change. I ask myself this question a lot. His answer? “What I can tell you is who I learned from. I think it’s important for students, for people to come together and actually talk, and read together… to be able to figure things out together.” Kelley said. “We get defeated all the time because we get placed in isolation you know,” said Kelley, “as opposed to being in struggle together.” Let me clear up a misconception. Struggle is not the same as endurance. Endurance means “uninterrupted or lasting existence,” endurance is Black survival in White America. Enduring is the bottled emotions, the swallowed response to a racist classmate; endurance is dealing with it, because racism isn’t going to go away tomorrow. Struggle is an active verb. We struggle because we can’t wait for a hopeful tomorrow anymore. We struggle when we use the last of our energy to defy violent systems. Struggle is not a deep breath of air – but every thrash, kick and grasp towards the surface that keeps you from drowning. That is the struggle we all must engage with. Davis said one more thing I think finds its relevance here. She asked us to continually challenge our perceived normal, and to develop a wider understanding of revolution. What do I mean by dissent, then? ‘Dissent’ is political opposition to a government or its policies. Dissent is more than to disagree – revolutionaries' express defiance with words, with actions and with choices. Dissent is the last individual choice you will make. It means to join the struggle locally and globally. In turn, our solidarity gives us strength. Commitment to collective struggle gives us the means to resist oppression, even when state violence reaches its worst. When we act with the needs of our community in mind, we pursue a society free from imperialism, racial capitalism and colonialism. Dissent. We can’t wait for action anymore.

Photo Credit: Djemima Duvernat Contributing Writer Juliet Legassa The shift happens almost instantly when a breaking headline drops, and within minutes, social media stops being just social media. Suddenly, selfies and the highlight reels of people's lives get buried under bold-font infographics, urgent captions and the same posts copied and pasted across everyone’s story. It’s like you can see the moment your timeline turns political.  Suddenly, it feels like if you’re not reposting, you’re silent, and if you are reposting, you’re part of something bigger. For a while, it feels powerful and important, like we’re all paying attention at the same time.  Then a week passes, and the posts slow down. The algorithm moves on. So do we. That’s why social media activism gets called overhyped. It can look like we’re confusing posting with the action of actually doing something. An article from Muse Magazine  talks about how Instagram story activism can blur the line between awareness and performance. Stories disappear after 24 hours, and just reposting something takes two seconds. It’s easy to wonder whether people are sharing because they care or because they are worried about what others will think, or worried about looking like they don’t care. Nowadays, silence can mean you are okay with what is going on.  Many Americans seem to feel tension when it comes to posting on social media. According to a 2023 report from the Pew Research Center , majorities say social media can distract from important issues or make people think they’re making a difference when they’re not. There’s a difference between liking a post and actually showing up somewhere to protest and make a change. Here’s where I think people go too far. The same Pew report found that nearly half of social media users say they’ve done at least one activism-related activity online, whether that’s sharing information, joining a group or encouraging others to take action. Sadly, that doesn’t even seem like a lot. For a generation that gets most of its news from a feed, awareness starts online. Before someone attends a protest, signs up to volunteer, or donates money, they usually see something about it on social media first. On college campuses, social media is the bulletin board. It’s how events spread, how students call out issues and how conversations start. Even if someone only reposts once, that repost might reach someone who didn’t know about the issue before.  Awareness doesn’t solve everything, but it does matter. I don’t think posting a hashtag is the same as real-world activism. It shouldn’t replace organizing, voting or having hard conversations. But I also don’t think it’s fair to dismiss it as meaningless. Social media activism can be shallow, and sometimes it is. At the same time, it gives people a low barrier to entry. It allows voices that might not be amplified by traditional media to be heard. It spreads information faster than any flyer ever could.  Maybe the problem isn’t that social media activism exists. Maybe the problem is that we expect it to be the whole movement instead of just the starting point.

Welcome to Azam’s literary scrapbook. While most photo albums consist of pictures, this scrapbook will be full of words. It’s not quite a diary, although in appearance it may read like one. Here remain calculated entries of memories, adolescent lessons and human experiences translated into literary meaning. There is no other place to begin such a series than with someone I know who has been there for it all. For me, she ties many loose threads together. In life friends often come and go, this remains an undisputed and painful fact. I’ve known people only for a few weeks, until they walk away. In contrast, I still know some friends from elementary school, and we talk occasionally. Nevertheless, it is a different feeling when someone has been there most days to text you for consecutive years.  Especially through adolescent years, when one is exponentially growing and changing. A quote by American writer Elbert Hubbard goes, " A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you. "  For the sake of her privacy, I will conceal her real name with the Russian nickname Masha. Not only is it more informal, but it feels closer to the feeling of, essentially, a sibling in mental harmony. We have been friends for over four years, talking pretty consistently during that time. I would imagine that level of consistency might be rare to find, especially given growing up from turbulent ages of 16 to 20. Living in the same town, we had shared elementary and middle schools, yet we really didn’t know one another until 11th grade.  I believe that I learned a large part of self compassion and forgiveness from her. There were times when I could not show myself any compassion, and perhaps she should not have either at times. Still she remained sympathetic within reason and believed in me when I did not, which was a mutual exchange, I must add.  I introduced her to cross country and long distance running, and in turn, she introduced me to the glory of Trader Joe’s. Win-win. I introduced her to my friend, who became her boyfriend, and she later on introduced me to her friend, who later became one of my girlfriends. Lose-lose, that was a bad idea. Now we owe each other a lot of indirect benefits and consequences simply via the law of cause and effect. She introduced me to my favorite Greek restaurant, and I introduced her to “A Quiet Place” which apparently, to her, is extremely terrifying. She carried a hand in saving my life once, as well as normalizing for me the concept of four passenger door vehicles that only have two side doors. I helped her realize why Stratton Brooke State Park is the worst cross country course known to man, as well as the fact that there is a distinct difference between Billy Joel and Bob Dylan. I took her on a couple of dates when I first met her, and then she friendzoned me. In return, when I became best friends with her childhood best friend and her sister, I learned what it was like to really lose when friend groups inevitably split. I remember all four of us went to New York City one time, and we stumbled through Chinatown in the hot sun for an hour just to end up at this recommended restaurant named The Golden Unicorn. I will never forget this experience when I was dehydrated, and they kept giving me expensive hot tea in this giant penthouse. We now refer to this event as “The Nightmare At The Golden Unicorn.” I’m not sure how the most toxic friendship could become the most mutually supportive platonic system, but I do know it boosts my faith in humanity that there are good people out there who are willing to work through problems. Without Masha, I would really not understand the difference between a boys and girls sleepover; the difference between skincare and lights out at nine, versus passing out on the floor wherever and whenever without a toothbrush in sight. Without Masha, I probably wouldn’t have known as early as I did that the difference between the genders is damn near none in mind and spirit, at least as I see it. Minus sleepovers. Without Masha, I wouldn’t have been exposed to orthodox church pastries and a camp volunteering experience that made my dad lose his favorite water bottle in Monroe. Without Masha, I definitely wouldn’t have grown to realize so early the value in learning about other cultures and peoples’ differences, even if they didn’t align with my perspective.   Once you break down the assumptions and idealizations about someone that exists, you’re left with numerous flaws. We accept each other's flaws, and even if we occasionally misunderstand each other now, we always problem solve and rationalize. We hear each other out and work to fix the problem, as mature adults in my view must do. This system between us is strong because we have done it so many times before, and with much greater conflicts to the point where current obstacles appear minuscule in comparison.  She never gave up on me, so I have never given up on her. No one is perfect, but we share mutual respect as we’ve seen each other evolve through mental centuries of fortified relations. She taught me that good things don’t come easy, and waiting for them can result in miracles, such as the fact that we are still friends. I’d like to think I taught her resilience as well through personal struggles of her own. It feels validating and joyful to converse with someone regularly (even though I only see her in real life every month or so now) who knows everything about me. Many good friends can listen without judgement, but not all of them were there since the genesis of adolescence. Though we’ve been out of high school for nearly three years, I could not thank her enough. Given how intertwined our adolescent lives have been, I could never explain my adult life story without mentioning her, and I am an important part of her story as well. With all the empathy she has shown me in times where I could find no light in the world, I am finally beginning to foster self compassion. She is one of the kindest and sweetest people I’ve ever met.  The ironic part is I used to be in love with her, but I hope you believe me when I say that its irrelevance is so potent nowadays that it might as well exist in another lifetime. The fact that at one time it was deemed an impossibility to recover from that in itself shows the true healing qualities of time and determined human resilience. The heartbreak caused by setting each other up with mutual friends packed more of a lasting punch if I’m being honest. Without Masha, I really wouldn’t have many people to converse with about European history, literature, and writing, or people from high school whom we forgot existed. Without Masha, I would not know where my life trajectory thus far would have gone, for better or for worse.  Her application of logic to issues at hand, intellect, and kindness are things that continue to inspire me every day as a grounding force for humanity's goodness. I look into her eyes, and I am emboldened to know someone has known me so long without judgement or continuous drift. Few things stay the same, especially at this age, but I am beyond grateful for her anchor of mutual support. It’s a constant that can be appreciated in an ever changing world. We truly were so different nearly five years ago, and we had no clue of left from right. Adulthood came quickly and without warning. It’s here now, supposedly, but it doesn’t really feel like it.  I truly believe that I have learned to treat others better, and in turn how to treat myself better, because of our long term mutual exchange of regular support and friendship. So here’s to the future!

Photo Credit to Garret Morrow on Pexels Throughout your life, there are going to be certain objects that weave themselves into your individuality until they become something more. They become a part of your everyday routine, your ideals of comfort and a part of your identity.  For me, that object is a pair of Skullcandy Crusher Evo headphones. I've had them for years. They aren’t anything too flashy… the cushions have lost some of their fluff, the bass doesn’t boom as loud and the volume doesn’t reach the peak like they would if they were brand new. Despite all the years we’ve spent together, I feel like I would die without them.  What makes these headphones so important to me isn’t just their intended use, but how they play a constant role in my life. They’ve carried me through so much; they’ve become my escape. They help with the long sleepless nights, studying silence, blocking out all the noise when I need to focus and the stress of everyday life. And this all comes from listening to music, watching videos or just using them to have my own sense of personal space. They have never failed me and I rely on them heavily. In a world of loud sorrows, they give me the ability to take control of the day.  While the functional connection is always the first thing established, the strong emotional connection is just as important. Over the years, they have been with me through all the different phases of my life. The different moods, memories, challenges, friends and even certain songs I’ve listened to trigger thoughts that bring me back to specific moments in life. It’s almost like they have stored all of my most important memories. Honing to this, they are essential to me and cannot be replaced; losing them would be losing a vital part of myself, a memory bank that has unlimited storage.  If I didn’t have my headphones, my day-to-day life would not be the same. It would be much harder to focus. I’ve gotten so used to using music as the background noise of my life that concentrating would prove to be difficult, and the silence would be deafening enough to kill. Some of the most comforting places, like my bedroom at home or my dorm wouldn’t feel the same. The added anxiety when traveling would just overtake my mind, and I would feel more overwhelmed and overstimulated in my environment.  Looking beyond focus, music has always been part of my life, and it's something I am very fond of. It helps me process my feelings, whether that’s calming down after a stressful day at work or I need to hype myself up before going to hang out. Without my headphones, those experiences become dull and muddled as the moment doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Playing music out loud on a speaker doesn’t create the same kind of environment, nor does it invoke the same feelings as using my headphones. I need to feel the music and bass in my bones.  In all honesty, I do believe that I can technically live without them, but it would prove difficult. As humans, we are adaptable; over time, we will find alternative things that give us the same satisfaction as previous objects or items. Maybe I’d eventually get a new pair or start using a speaker instead. But these headphones and I have a specific connection that can’t be replaced. Even if I get a new pair or some other brand that is of better quality, they wouldn’t carry the same familiarity or comfort that these headphones currently bring me. So while I could actually function without them, it would be like losing a sense of myself that I wouldn’t fully heal from.  These headphones are bigger than their name; they’re bigger than their function. There are small things we depend on in our lives without ever realizing it. Everyday objects can have deeper meanings, and as time goes by we gain experiences and memories with them. It's not just about what their function is, but what they tend to represent: comfort, memories, and identity.  So while it might just be a pair of ordinary headphones to the average person, to me, they are much more than that. They’re a variable in my life that is constant. They are a tool and a lifeline that I depend on heavily, and a source of ultimate emotional connection. Losing them wouldn’t just be an inconvenience for a temporary time. But it would feel like losing a part of me that has shaped my experiences in the world.