Our whole lives, we work to be independent. College is our first shot at independence, and quite frankly, most of us blow it at least a little bit at the beginning. Try as we might to stop relying on other people, we can never hope to be truly free from some sort of dependence on others, and that’s OK.
Asian Americans in film are hard to come by — and portrayals that don’t rely on stereotypes are even more sparse. I had always been aware of this to some extent, but this past week, as I was working on a project for my web apps class, it became even more clear. The assignment was to create a database, and so I sought to create a database of movies with diverse casting — movies that didn’t have a completely white main cast. I saw this as a relatively low standard to meet, but I was surprised how hard it was to come by films that met my standard. It was a struggle to find films with an inclusive cast across different genres, but when I started specifically looking for more Asian American casts, I had to dig further into years past. One of the only films in the past year I could easily find with an Asian American lead was “Lion,” which stars Dev Patel.
When we think about relationships, the word that often comes to mind is love. It can give us a sense of purpose, bring out the noblest parts of us and reveal things we never knew about ourselves. Too often, however, we think of love applying only to our romantic partners. In honor of everyone else, I’d like to talk this week about friendship.
Americans have spent a lot of time fuming these past few weeks. I know I did. A flurry of executive actions by President Donald Trump saw the reinstatement of the Keystone and Dakota Access pipelines, a press blackout and grant-freezing at the Environmental Protection Agency, a head-scratching reorganization of the National Security Council, a backward withdraw of funding for essential aid organizations in the developing world and a broad-stroked travel ban that at its best bars legal U.S. residents from returning home and at its worst sees America turning its back on its founding principles.
Who has watched a cellphone commercial that advertised limited texting and data? Who has been upset at Chick-fil-A for not being open on Sundays or Chipotle for not being open all night? If Netflix or Hulu had a time limit — you could only watch a certain number of shows per week — would people subscribe? Would there be protests if Amazon imposed a delivery ban past a certain time or if you ordered multiple packages within a month’s period? Or if buffets and “have it your way” food services became extinct? What if the internet shut off globally at 10 p.m. every night, what then? How would we respond?
It’s obvious the past few months have initiated our transition into a sort of new normal. Several of my fellow columnists have addressed it, and I have spent plenty of time trying to come to terms with it. More often than not, this “coming to terms” has taken the form of scrolling through Facebook and growing increasingly anxious with every news article, political post and comment war I encounter. Unsurprisingly, this unhealthy routine has left me not only emotionally drained but also stressed as hell. So as a result, I’ve found myself at a crossroad where I’m forced to choose either my sanity or the responsibility of being an informed citizen — but not both.
About two weeks ago, I was just driving around and taking care of a few errands with a friend of mine. We were coming from Publix, and I forgot to get something, so we stopped by the little CVS on 13th street. As we got out of the car, we both heard a hissing noise and soon discerned it was my tire. I ran over a nail. My tire was flat, and it was the largest blemish in the face of a great day. I finally had time last week to take care of my flat tire Wednesday. I mean, I had the spare on, but I had to take care of getting a new, used tire. I was getting a used tire because I was in the process of selling that heap of junk. Anyway, I called a few used tire places to find the cheapest price on a tire and the replacement fee. I eventually ended up at some place near downtown, walked in, and then what was once a nuisance turned into a great experience.
I am attending school to become a journalist. This was not always my goal. I went through phases, as most children and adolescents do. My doctor phase was by far the longest and most involved phase. I was pre-med for one semester before I jumped ship and realized my heart wasn’t in the right place to succeed and be happy in that career. I took a journey from the Chemistry Lab Building to Weimer Hall, and I never looked back.
Today, President Donald Trump’s nominee for secretary of education, Betsy DeVos, advances to her final confirmation vote in the U.S. Senate. Public outcry against DeVos has exploded in a big way (or, to borrow an expression from our president, “big league” or “bigly” or whatever). A spokesman for Sen. Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., said the Senate received about 1.5 million calls every day last week; a staff member of Sen. Bob Casey, D-Pa., said his office received 80,000 letters pertaining solely to DeVos’ nomination. With a likely 50-50 split for and against her confirmation, Vice President Mike Pence might just make an unprecedented journey to the Senate floor to break the tie for a cabinet nominee.
For the most part, my political views can be summarized by simply saying, “The less government, the better.” This applies to almost everything from education to health care, but a recent trip to Washington, D.C. may have caused a slight shift in that view.
Your failures are never final — unless, of course, you failed your final.
I’ll be blunt: Our country is out of whack right now, and I’m petrified.
When was the last time you were truly alone? I’m not talking about the last time you were by yourself. I assume every person spends some time each day unaccompanied, whether it be sleeping, studying late at night or using the bathroom (I hope). Yet most of the time, although we might be physically by ourselves, we aren’t actually alone. We’re constantly plugged into our phones and computers, communicating with others via text message, email or Snapchat. It’s a relentless barrage of electronic sensation and information.
Proponents of the regime claim that Fidel Castro’s revolution won Cuba freedom, a word choice that is bewildering to hear considering the individual liberties repressed by the totalitarian government. Predictably, a Havana bookstore we visited lacked works containing ideas incompatible with communism. Next to Trotsky and Marx, there was a title that argued there was in fact democracy in Cuba because the island has a “democratic economy,” contrasting it to the economy of the U.S.
In honor of Valentine’s Day, I am devoting the month of February to relationships. This month, we’ll talk about friendship, love and what makes for healthy relationships of all kinds. I can think of no better way to begin than with the foundation of every relationship and the most valuable tool you will ever learn to use: communication.
Professor Bishop was rather proud of my last column, and I must say it was cathartic to put myself out there and admit to my clockwork, mechanical nature. Having people know me as an automaton doesn’t feel so different from being known as a human; friends accepted it fairly quickly, although I’m getting tired of people asking to use me as their personal calculator. I’ll say this now: No, I cannot tutor you in Elementary Ordinary Differential Equations. Yes, I can calculate the answers to any questions you may have in mathematics, anthropology and philosophy in the blink of an eye. No, it would not be ethical to do the latter. However, my operating system is open-source, if you’d like to take a look at it.
Three major changes happened just prior to my visit to Cuba. First, direct commercial flights began flying between the U.S. and Cuba. I paid a little more than $200 for a round trip with JetBlue, purchasing my tickets only a couple weeks in advance. Of course, you must still fit into one of the 12 exceptions for travel if you are an American, but travel agencies and cruise lines (which have only recently begun docking in Cuban ports) have found ways around this, constructing educational and “people-to-people” itineraries. Regardless, the airline has you sign an affidavit indicating your official purpose of travel, a requirement which became clear to me that many Americans fabricate or exaggerate. No one ever checked my press credentials.
Cuba is an island trapped in time. Old American and Russian cars zip through crumbling avenues and around 1920s-era buildings. Some are painted bright colors, others are faded or outright falling into ruin. The Caribbean sun beats down intensely, made more gentle by a forgiving ocean breeze. Perpetual sounds of crowded streets, howling merchants, roaring automobiles and music fill the air. You will catch whiffs of diesel exhaust, hot food or perhaps just the sea.
In big block letters over the whiteboard, the poster read, “Good teachers don’t teach you what to think. They teach you how to think.” Even at 16, I knew my 10th-grade AP World History teacher embodied the message she had hung up in her classroom. She taught well, with respect for us and pride for her work, with the kindness and empathy to reach way back into the early days of history and teach us angsty adolescents a thing or two.
Let me start by apologizing for bequeathing you with another article about politics — I realize most of you are rather apathetic toward the topic at this point. Be that as it may, this concept is too big to ignore.
Solutions by The State News
