A
s
my
college
career
draws
to
a
close,
I’ve spent some time
reflecting
on
my
experiences
here.
Looking
back
at
the sheer volume of
work I’ve done, the
new things I’ve tried
and the amount I’ve
grown as a person over
the past four years
is
simultaneously
amazing
and
overwhelming.
I’m
proud of the things I’ve
accomplished as a University
of
Michigan
undergraduate,
largely because they reflect
the love I felt for (most of) the
classes I took and activities I
participated in.
But, at this point during my
senior year of high school, I
envisioned myself spending my
Wednesday nights partying with
fraternity men, not attending
an informational session about
graduate school fellowships and
then coming home to write this
column.
It’s not that I didn’t care
about school, or really even that
I was really very interested in
partying (or fraternity men for
that matter). Rather, it was just
what I thought people were
supposed to do in college. Most
of the images I had seen of
college — both on older friends’
social media accounts and in
popular culture — involved
stylish blonde women either
wrapped around tall, tan men
or huddled in massive groups of
women laughing in Instagram-
worthy
places.
I
imagined
college
through
rose-tinted
lenses adorned with pearls and
bows. I didn’t realize that the
ideas I had developed about how
college women were “supposed”
to look and act were not only
unrealistic but, if left unchecked,
could be detrimental to my long-
term goals.
Fortunately,
that
changed
shortly after I arrived at the
University. Older students on
the Daily staff and
in
other
student
organizations
during
my
first
semester
helped
me
get
involved
on
campus
in
organizations that
led me to discover
deeper
interests
in things I ended
up liking far more
than the superficial.
They gave me the courage to
share my thoughts and opinions
with the rest of campus through
the Daily — something I’ve
been doing ever since. In doing
so, they taught me to value my
own voice and to take myself
seriously
as
someone
who
deserves to be heard.
I did end up joining a
sorority
as
a
sophomore
— when I had personally
matured enough and learned
enough about myself and my
personal priorities to pick an
organization with ideals and
women I respected, rather
than
just
an
aesthetically
pleasing Tumblr page or an
impressive
social
schedule.
Through my sorority, I gained
a community of women who
support me when I need it and
respect me for who I am.
Too
frequently,
we’re
encouraged to be pretty faces
for Instagram posts instead
of
strong
people
with
the
ability to make a real impact.
Though these things aren’t
mutually exclusive, living up
to these outrageous standards
impedes our efforts to excel in
school and pursue the things
we’re passionate about. In
the workplace, especially in
male-dominated fields, these
pressures only intensify.
Yet, with the support of
older students willing to act
as my mentors, I learned to
navigate the pressures and
expectations
of
women
in
college and, later, in office
environments. Many of these
women were busy themselves,
but still took the time to serve
as resources for me as I began
to get involved on campus,
search for internships and
apply to my current college, the
Ford School of Public Policy.
At my internship this past
summer,
management-level
female employees made an effort
to mentor and advocate for
lower-level female employees,
including
the
interns.
They
helped me feel welcome at work,
encouraged me to share my ideas
and opinions in meetings and
gave me opportunities to work
on incredible projects.
Women face challenges at
school and work that men often
don’t, such as wage gaps and not
being taken as seriously as their
male counterparts. Big picture:
building a society where women
have the full opportunity to
contribute all they can to our
economy and government will
require that we remove social,
legal and economic barriers for
women
pursuing
educational
and occupational opportunities.
Greater female representation in
every arena — from government
to engineering — can help make
that happen. As it does, all
women become better off.
But first, we need to help
each other get there. From
challenging
the
stereotypes
that hold women back, to
serving as resources for other
women, to simply being real
and honest with our friends and
on social media, we can help
make it easier for women to
deploy their talents and efforts
to improve society as a whole.
C
urrently,
there
is
a
variety of undeniable
signs
cropping
up
around me that indicate I’m
graduating,
from
the flood of emails
in my inbox about
commencement
to
the small mountain
of coffee cups I have
near my study spot
from
late
nights
with senior capstone
projects. It would be
hard to write off the
amount of evidence
sitting in front of
me that I need to start
preparing for college to be
over. However, until recently, I
was a master of denial; without
a clear path in front of me for
my post-grad steps, I just didn’t
want to think about the future.
It wasn’t until I was talking
with my mom at the end of
Spring Break that I knew I
needed a better way to think
about
this
upcoming
life
change. She pointed out that,
while I can continue seeing
graduation
as
seven
long
weeks away, or an entire half a
semester away or even as being
more than 1000 hours from
now (a lifetime!), graduation is
next month now — which is, in
fact, not a lifetime.
When I resumed breathing
after that chilling realization,
I tried to sort through some
new coping mechanisms for
tamping down the desire to dig
my heels in harder against time.
Ultimately, I’ve found that,
above all else, the knowledge
that time is completely relative
has been a massive help in
making my way through my
final semester in a relatively
calm way.
One of the hardest things to
overcome in handling the fear
that comes with graduating is
a lack of concrete plans after
getting kicked out of the dorms.
This anxiety gets even worse
when people around you do,
in fact, have things figured out
already, whether it’s grad school,
a career or some turf picked out
for
panhandling.
Considering
the relativity of time can give a
healthier perspective
on this, though.
This
understanding
of
the relativity of time
comes from a couple
places for me. First,
a couple semesters
ago, I took a course
on rocket science
(which does mean
that I am officially
a rocket scientist
and get to pretend
to be superior). While doing a
refresher course on physics,
we covered Einstein’s laws of
motion and theory on general
relativity, which show that
time is relative. That is to
say, bodies being acted upon
by different levels of gravity
will experience the passage
of time differently.
The other classes I can point
to where the relativity of time
was discussed are my linguistics
courses. It was pointed out that
some languages, like Hopi, don’t
conceptualize time in the same
way that English does. Based on
theories of linguistic relativity
and, more specifically, Sapir-
Whorf’s hypothesis that our
language shapes our experience
of
reality,
this
language
difference has the implication
that even our experience of time
differs based on how we express
it.
Someone
speaking
Hopi
instead of English might have a
completely different perception
of the passage of time.
In short, time is an illusion,
changing based on how we
think about it or what our
frames
of
reference
are
compared to others’. What’s
“slow”
or
“early”
for
an
individual is completely open
to interpretation in the grand
scheme of things.
While
Einstein’s
theories
are usually applied to physical
motion, and linguistics uses
the idea of time as a tool for
comparing worldviews, I find
that these ideas can very easily
be applied to dealing with the
fear associated with being “on
time” in life.
When I begin to compare my
own progress to that of those
around me, it’s easy for me to
see how relative time is. More
often than not, the timing of
milestones and the general
timelines that others operate
on are different enough from
my own that it’s pointless or
even misleading to use them
for myself.
Most notable for me was
that many of my friends are
in engineering fields, which
began to hire months before
any of the jobs I would be
applying to. Seeing people
around
me
settled
with
concrete
plans
made
me
more panicky than normal,
until I recontextualized the
timeframe.
Their
timelines
are not my own, and I’m not
running late or falling behind
at all; I’m running on my
own
time,
figuring
things
out and trying out avenues of
possibility at my own speed.
While there are deadlines
that I need to hit soon (I am
more than aware that I need
a job soon, don’t remind me),
as soon as I stopped looking
at what others were doing as
a direct comparison to what I
was doing, I felt infinitely more
relaxed. My first post-grad job
is probably not going to be my
last, and I can take my time
to build up to my dream job of
being a football-playing queen
in space.
So, while I am still hyper
aware of the passage of time
right now, and I’m still not
exactly racing toward that
finish line, I at least know that
I have options, I have ideas
and, more than anything, I
have time.
C
onfession: I (probably)
had norovirus.
Confession: I damned
10 of my housemates to making
offerings before our soon-to-be-
besmirched porcelain idols for
two to three days.
Confession: I spent my
precious few conscious
hours
binge-watching
“Rick and Morty.”
Despite
not
being
made for Netflix, “Rick
and
Morty”
is
the
perfect show to binge-
watch. The jokes are
fast, the episodes are
short, the animation is
colorful and the premise
is simple. The show has very
loose continuity (and because
inter-dimensional travel is a
key plot device, I don’t think a
viewer would have to watch the
episodes in order to necessarily
understand what’s going on).
But as I finished my latest
binge-watching session, I had
a bizarre realization: I didn’t
have anyone to talk to about
the show with. It’s not because
the show is an empty calorie
cartoon: “Rick and Morty” is
unafraid to explore themes of
existentialism
and
mortality
alongside diverse topics such
as feminism and imperialism
(and do so coherently! It really
is a testament to the sheer
imagination of creators Dan
Harmon and Justin Roiland).
Upon some reflection, I think
the biggest cause of this void was
the way I consumed “Rick and
Morty.” Instead of watching the
show week-by-week, I watched
the bulk of it at once on a sketchy
Chinese website offering to sell
me “Mail Enhancement Pills.”
I indulged myself alone both
spatially and temporally.
My memories of “Rick and
Morty” don’t exist solely as
a
relationship
between
the
program
and
me,
they’re
constructed by how I watched
the show. Instead of watching
it with a bunch of friends, I
saw each episode in solitude.
This has implications for how
I interacted with
it.
According
to
Robert R. Provine,
a
neuroscientist
and
psychology
professor
at
the
University
of
Maryland, people
laugh
nearly
30
times more when
they’re in a group
than when they’re
by
themselves.
The content may be the same for
everyone, but how you engage
with it changes depending on the
individual. At the end of the day,
I probably enjoyed the show less
because of how I viewed it.
Our
consumption
has
also
become
asynchronous.
Television used to be a communal
experience, even if you weren’t
with anyone per se. The nation
was tuned in to the same show
each night. Cliffhangers had
meaning. People could make
predictions with each other
while they waited with bated
breath for the next episode. This
doesn’t happen with shows that
are available all at once, like
“House of Cards.” The ebb and
flow of the whole season doesn’t
mean much if it’s all consumed
in one week (or as is often the
case, one night).
This phenomenon falls into a
broader paradigm of the internet
destroying synchronous rituals.
Once again, we lose something
tangible
in
our
collective
cultural
consciousness.
Memories are formed through
repetition, and when we all
devour a show like “House of
Cards” in such a short time, we
are more likely to forget the
show’s content. It has become
more difficult to mull over
the show long after its time
has passed.
I don’t want this column to
be a simple polemic about how
the internet is ruining society.
There are historical analogues
to this. Back in the ’90s, if you
got into a TV show late, you
would watch it on VHS after
everyone else. However, VHS
faced physical constraints on
the number of episodes its
viewers could access at a given
time; viewers didn’t have access
to every tape at once, and tapes
held a limited amount of footage.
But the accessibility of shows
on streaming services — and
the advent of shows released in
bulk on those services — makes
the phenomenon a much more
common occurrence.
I don’t want to understate how
awesome
streaming
services
are; they let people watch shows
when they want for them rather
than forcing people to watch
whatever is on. In addition
to
making
television
more
convenient, people from all over
the globe can enjoy “Rick and
Morty.” Once again, this isn’t
a totally unique process and
there are additional important
ways
we
can
historicize
this: Reading in the secular
context has often been a solo
endeavor. Book clubs are the
exception, not the norm. But
we do lose something when
we watch a show all at once,
not as individuals, but as a
collective. That’s emblematic
of what the internet does
as a society: It empowers
the individual but atrophies
everything around them.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Friday, March 10, 2017
REBECCA LERNER
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
EMMA KINERY
Editor in Chief
ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY
and REBECCA TARNOPOL
Editorial Page Editors
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
Samantha Goldstein
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Max Lubell
Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Stephanie Trierweiler
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Consuming collective culture
ROLAND DAVIDSON | COLUMN
The illusion of time and comparisons
SARAH LEESON | COLUMN
Sarah Leeson can be reached at
sleeson@umich.edu.
Roland Davidson can be reached at
mhenryda@umich.edu.
SARAH
LEESON
MICHELLE SHENG | CONTACT MICHELLE AT SHENGMI@UMICH.EDU
Women supporting women
VICTORIA NOBLE | COLUMN
Victoria Noble can be reached at
vjnoble@umich.edu.
ROLAND
DAVIDSON
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VICTORIA
NOBLE