WenedaFerury1,-01//Te taem n

Personal Statement: That sexy sweater
by Max Radwin

campus mechanics: you are the trend by amrutha sivakumar

1. The Conservator ofAsian Art
If you've got the five years worth of post-graduate experience
in Asian art required for this job, then you might have a place
ready for you at UMMA - dealing with conserving works from
Japan, China, Korea and India.
2. Skilled Trades Apprenticeship
In no other job will you be expected to carry out the job profile
of 14 professionals in one. In charge of making sure the 'U' remains
running, we have more to thank apprentices for than we know.
3. Patient Care Associate
A little love is all we need, and Care Associates are there to
give it. Here's to the University employee that makes hospital
stays more than just bearable,
4. Human Resources Coordinator
We're ivi[nR a shout-out to the facultv member resnonsible for

in the fall of 2010, I did every-
thing I could to stand out. As my
friends listened to Rihanna, I
streamed Bullet for my Valentine.
When girls struggled to get past
the no-nonsense debates on what
color nail polish best suited their
skin tones, I jammed with the met-
al-heads. No, I may not have made
a case for myself with the boys, but
I was unique.
Well, so much for that.
In a world that's increasingly
focused on diversity - or a lack of
it - it's remarkable how minimally
diverse we really are. Earlier this
year, a Wall Street Journal report
showed that the top 10 singles on
radio last year were played twice as
often as the top hits from a decade
ago did during their heyday. The
most played song of 2013, "Blurred
Lines," performed by Robin
Thicke, was played 2,053 times a
day on average. More startlingly,
Clear Channel Communications
Inc. tracked over 70 new Top 40
radio stations in the last ten years.
As much as I try to differentiate
de253
myself from the crowd, the rate of
return for a varied taste in music is
far too low. Each time I let Avenged
Sevenfold ring through my laptop
speakers, I hardly receive a second
glance. And if I plug in my head-
phones to indulge in my personal
favorites, then I'm essentially cut-
ting myself off from the outside
world.
There's a sense of community

:

11,,
M';I

that comes with popular music.
Pop music is permeable and adapt-
able to any sort of social scenario.
By the transitive property, I can
walk into a party or a club and feel
an immediate connection to the
stranger next to me if we can both
recognize the song being played.
Music is culture, and culture
comes in groups. Culture is recog-
nizable, it's viral and it's what helps
define a generation. Radio stations
and music streaming services will
never lose their appeal as long as
they serve to reinforce the cultural
camaraderie that comes with pop-
ular music - ad revenue notwith-
standing. And if that means playing
the song of the summer for three
months on aloop, then so be it. .
This sense of diversification bias
- the false assumption that we,
as humans, crave more diversity
than we really do - isn't unique
to music. A 2011 study by decision
theorists Jeff Galak, Justin Kruger
and George Loewenstein found
that when people consumed high-
concentrations of anything over
a short period of time, they were
more likely repeat their choices.

TRATIONS BY MEGAN MULHOLLAND
Over time, however, they were
more like to switch out their old
tunes to new ones.
I'm still optimistic. As the line
between pop music and other
genres fades out, musical hits like
"Royals," by Lorde, "Somebody
that I Used to Know," by Gotye and
"Get Lucky," by Daft Punk start to
permeate everyday radio and turn
obscure artists into overnight hits.
It's clear that online media has the
power to keep hit music sound-
ing fresh. There's no doubt that as
generations evolve, the sound of
popular music will evolve, too. On
the other hand, if our community
tends to listen to music that is more
obscure than those songs that are
nationally or internationally trend-
ing, then that obscurity becomes
popular within our own sphere of
existence.
More often than not, we place
ourselves outside the trend. The
trend is seen as something inde-
pendent of our being and the choice
to follow or separate ourselves
from this becomes our autonomous
choice. Slowly though, the trend
becomes us.

Look at your calenda
day, Dec. 10, 2013. What w
doing that morning? I bet y
remember. It was a while a
all, and unless something
dinary happened, it wasr
just another day for you. Y
case, both seem to be tru
the kind of morning I wo:
missed 99 times out ofI
the fact that I should hav
it, but didn't, is what ma]
miraculous:
Before I go to bed each
set two alarms - one on m
and one on my alarm ci
terrified that I won't get
class or work, though I'v
slept through an alarm in
or really been late to a
worth setting the extra al
But better safe than sorry,;
what I did. And on that'
morning, my phone woks
as planned. So far, everyth
good.
The first 30 seconds of e
are a blur for me. That day
gily wobbled around like,
looking at Facebook on m
through squinting eyes a
ing dirty clothes out ofI
until I remembered that I
posed to shower.
So, I took off my box
wrapped a towel around m
I wore flip flops into the
as usual because I don't t
foot fungus of my hou
- people piss in there w
throw parties and there's
orange-something grow
toward the showerhead, a

DEC
r. Tues- While the water was getting
vere you hot, I peed. Remember this fact.
'ou don't Then I got into the shower and
ago after washed myself - body, hair, face,
extraor- in that order. When the shower
probably was over I pressed my face into the
'et in my towel. It was a nice feeling. I dried
e. it was off head-to-toe, wrapped the towel
uld have around my waist once again and
100, but stepped out.
e missed Contacts, gel in the hair,
kes it so shave, tooth brushing. And, as if
I had forgotten from the morning
night, I before, those moments of looking
ty phone in the mirror gave me the oppor-
ock. I'm tunity to see my face up close:
t up for the acne on my forehead that had
ve never been replaced with the acne on my
my life cheeks; the little mole on my jaw;
nything the few creases in my skin. My lips
arm for. were chapped. The cut from shav-
so that's ing under my chin two days ago
Tuesday was healing, but might have still
e me up been noticeable up close. I recall
sing was spending a little extra time on my
hair because it didn't look right the
very day way I put the gel in that morning.
, I grog- And it was an important morning.
a drunk, But aren't they all?
y phone I pick my clothes based on a
nd kick- series of factors: Is what I'm wear-
the way ing clean enough? Have I worn
was sup- this combination of shirt and pants
too often on that day of the week?
ers and Do I look good for the girl I plan
sy waist. on talking to or "accidentally" run-
shower ning into that day?
rust the I tried talking to girls a lot that
semates semester - new ones, or girls I
vhen we knew but hadn't blown it with
a weird yet. My thinking was that you
ing up weren't going to run into (horny
. rd ,attractive )girls more , fre-

I
ILLUSTRATION BY MEGAN MUL HOLLAND

quently than in college. And while
I had found that to be majorly true,
despite an embarrassingly dispro-
portionate amount of failure in the
arena of sex and sensuality, I was
hoping that some of them would
turn out to be cool enough to talk
to in a long-term sort of way, as
well.
Which is why I took extra care
that morning when it came to fac-
tor No. 3 - looking good for the
girl. I had class with a cute bru-
nette - let's call her ... Pothos -
every Tuesday and Thursday. She
was attractive with long hair, long
legs and a nice smile, and I suppose
we'd had some interesting conver-
sations - awkwardly at first, and
then more flirtingly and jokingly
as I broke new ground. I had got-
ten her number and invited her
out, but she never responded; I had
mixed up a seven and a five. Later
on, I had suggested we do some-
thing together, but she never com-
mitted. I told myself these mishaps
were not rejections - I just needed
to be more upfront.
I had on a nice red sweater
that had received compliments
from other girls, and a new pair of
brown corduroys that Ihad bought
at H&M in Chicago with my mom
over Thanksgiving break. These
facts are equally if not more impor-
tant to this story than Pothos is
herself: that sweater was sexy.
I packed my books and laptop
into my bag and brought them
downstairs with me. I set them
on the couch and made break-
,fast.- Sometimes I fry an egg op

two while I make oatmeal. Other
times, I just eat cereal. That day,
I had strawberry pop-tarts and
mini-wheats. I always drink whole
milk. Looking back, this seems rel-
evant to everything: I drink whole
milk.
For whatever reason, I had more
time to kill that morning, so I sat
on the couch while eating, watch-
ing SportsCenter and thinking
about the cute brunette, Pothos.
Are dates clich6? Should I just
invite her to a party and try to get
with her? I didn't like the colors
she used to paint her nails, though;
if it didn't work out, it would all be
OK.
When I'd seen Pothos on the
first day of classes, I'd thought,
"There's no way I'm going to sit
here all semester and not talk to
her at least once. Even ifI strike out
horribly." At the time, I was trying
to be braver about the whole meet-
ing girls thing. They're undoubt-
edly frightening and rejection is a
nightmare, but I was discovering
that it's better to strikeout than
to wonder what would have hap-
pened had I just taken a swing at
it. Gotta get your at-bats, I told
myself.
I rinsed off my plate and bowl
and put them in the dishwasher
because I'm not an asshole like my
housemates.
Was Pothos too hot for me?
Was being "too hot" a thing? My
friends and I debated this notion
numerously. They wanted to know
what she looked like. I gave them,
her name and they deconstructcd

her profile pictures in the most
shallow, banal and sexist of ways,
which I resented on principle but
admittedly partook in regularly.
I told myself I was a good guy. At
least, I'm not a bad guy. That's
something.
I locked my front door and went
to class.
And ... that's pretty much it.
Everything described leading
up to class was maybe 1 percent of
the thoughts that were bouncing
around in my head that morning.
Not that I had a notably sizable
amount of thoughts on that day.
It's just that people have a lot of
thoughts all the time, constantly.
Perhaps those thoughts, specifi-
cally, were unique to that Tuesday
morning. But in other ways, they
weren't at all. Pothos becomes
Aphrodite next Tuesday, Hera
the day after, or maybe even just a
plain old Jessica. The individuals
themselves don't really matter, but
my pursuit of them certainly does,
In the end, routine becomes
what we least value and the thing
that takes up the most of our lives.
Is it ever notable? My sweater is
notable. Don't tell me it isn't. So
are my mini-wheats.
Now look back at your calendar. -
Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2013.
Maybe you don't know what
you did that day. But then again,
at least partially, maybe you do.
Because you've spent more time
doing it in your life than anything
worthy of writing about. You just 40
go through it without noticing.
Somehow it becomes yowu>, i

COVER BY RUBY WALLAU & AMY MACKENS