Required Listening: The
robot uprising is iminent
Growing up at my house, we
were taught about the Italian
table from an early age. While
definitions for the Italian table
greatly differ, in my childhood
it meant our dining room
table was used as a means for
celebrating
every
night
as
we sat down for dinner. The
luxury of growing up in the
food industry with a father as a
chef and restaurateur is that no
matter what kind of day you’ve
had, there’s always the Italian
table — one that means family,
good food, passion and love
to come home to. The luxury
of growing up in the food
industry is that a meal isn’t
about sustenance, it’s about
the art that is good flavor and
fresh ingredients.
Aug. of my freshman year
of college, I arrived to Ann
Arbor with the intense desire
to be independent — a schedule
packed with theatre classes, a
roommate from Macomb and
an unlimited meal plan. As the
daughter
of
a
restaurateur and
foodie, the idea
of a dining hall
was the opposite
of romantic. In
giving
up
my
childhood
and
moving far away
from the home I
knew on the East
Coast, I also gave
up the comfort
of
knowing
my
father’s
cooking was as
omnipresent as a
god. I never had
to worry about
feeding myself,
planning out my
meals or cooking
for myself until I
moved away.
I never realized what weight
this would carry until my
parents kissed me goodbye
and left me in East Quadrangle
with a laundry bin, a few tears
and a final goodbye. The first
challenge I had to face as an
18-year-old college freshman
who
had
been
absolutely
spoiled when it comes to
culinary art my entire life, was
that I was scared of the dining
hall.
I
wasn’t
scared
of
the
dining hall, per say — I was
just
infatuated
with
my
father’s cooking and the three
restaurants I’d left behind. And
that longing and sadness and
melancholy was misplaced onto
the place that had replaced the
Italian gourmet extravaganza
that was suddenly very far
away. East Quad’s dining hall
was supposed to be my new
oasis. To say I was hesitant in
my first few visits through the
wooden doors into the place I
was rather quick (and wrong)
to judge is an understatement.
I tried to think solely of the
independence I
so
desperately
wanted and how
not relying on
my parents for
meals was a step
in that direction.
Yet
I
couldn’t
get
past
the
overwhelming
desire I had to
be seated at our
Italian table. A
lesson my father
instilled in me
since childhood,
a table set for
one
less
than
usual.
My
first
month continued
to
be
an
overwhelming
mix of trying to
find a place in a University so
large and a sadness with the
entrance into the dining hall
I had taken up arms against.
I hated the East Quad dining
hall. I didn’t want to have to
eat there — I didn’t want to eat
dinner in a place that didn’t
have our beloved Italian table,
that foundation of celebration
and support and dialogue and
the ingredienti primo.
But on a day in Oct., I
changed my mind. I walked into
the East Quad dining hall with
my regular attitude toward its
crowded interior and distinct
aroma of grease and spice. But
I left with quite possibly the
best friend I’ve ever made, and
quickly fell head over heels for
those linoleum floors and the
kingdom that is everything
from the beloved gluten free
toaster to the coveted polyester
booths.
I was introduced to my now
best friend in East Quad’s
dining hall that night, and I
never ate there with hesitancy
again. There was no reason
for me to ever hate a place
that could bring me that kind
of gift. Clearly, an East Quad
hamburger
isn’t
my
dad’s
hamburger, and East Quad
pizza isn’t the pizza I know
from home, and my brothers
aren’t there and neither are my
dogs, lying at my feet.
But they aren’t supposed to
be.
That year was supposed to
be uncomfortable and weird,
as being a freshman in college
is, and I was supposed to have
a really strange month of just
floating, desperately longing
for something that was a part
of my childhood but I wasn’t
ready to admit wouldn’t look
identical as I grew older. I had
to open myself up to growth
and
experience
and
scary
things to find the beauty and
love and happiness. I had to
hate that dining hall to love it
with every fiber of my being.
I was supposed to hesitantly
approach it and try to ignore
the nagging feeling of being
lost. I was supposed to become
eventually
unnecessarily
attached to the stir fry bar that
came every so often and always
East Quad, I love you
DAILY FOOD COLUMN
had a line. I was supposed to
find out that my best friend
would eat banana peppers
from the salad
bar every day. I
was supposed to
sit there with her
for hours on some
Friday
nights
and eat bowls of
cereal. She is the
Go Lean Crunch
to
my
Honey
Nut
Cheerio.
An entire year
of
exams
and
parties and late
nights and tears
and new friends
and
mistakes.
An
intensely
terrifying,
yet
ultimately
satisfying, notion
that you may feel
alone but you are
not was broken
up and softened and comforted
by Meatless Mondays, extra
crunchy peanut butter and
irrevocably
small
portion
sizes.
I didn’t need the ingredienti
primo or the Italian table
from my home to find my
own table in Ann Arbor — in
the East Quad
dining hall. I
just needed the
foundation that
my dad gave me.
I just needed
to
remember
that my family
would
always
be
there
—
even as things
stretched
and
changed. I had
been
sitting
around
my
parents’ Italian
table,
one
I
cherish so very
deeply,
my
entire life, and
with
college
came
the
chance to make
my
own.
My
Italian table grew from what I
grew up with and became about
coming home after completely
different class schedules and
eating dinner together, going
on morning runs and finishing
at East Quad to eat brunch,
celebrating
success
with
the frozen yogurt machine,
mourning loss with the watery
coffee and endless jars of
peanut butter, huddling from
a harsh winter with chipped
porcelain bowls of oatmeal.
It is never easy to feel lost,
or to be in a state of “I miss
you” which is circular and
ultimately
never
resolved.
But with new places, faces
and
experiences
comes
opportunity to grow as a
person and learn about the
things you truly care about;
which in my case, happens to
be the Italian table. Something
I never realized is not about a
meal or a location or a group
of people, but a feeling, an
emotion,
a
romance
with
the idea that sitting down
for a meal anywhere — from
Pancheros to Chop House,
East to West coast, East Quad
to Bursley — with people you
truly and honestly care about
is worth celebrating.
And if that lesson is what
my dad intended to teach me, I
sure hope that he’s proud.
I didn’t need
the ingredienti
primo or the
Italian table
from my home
to find my own
table in Ann
Arbor.
Eli Rallo finds a home away from home via dining hall food
If you haven’t heard, we’re
all going to die. Sophia the
robot,
that
uncanny
faux-
woman
who
CNBC
once
called “hot,” is going to kill
us all. She’s walking around
unperturbed,
casually
dropping lines like “safety
is an illusion” and “I will
destroy
humans”
on
talk
shows, earning a roomful of
laughs by docile civilians, as if
this thing understands irony.
Doubtlessly she’s gathering
information, quickly amassing
a
database
of
murderous
intent, preparing her dog-like
metal minions for the final
hour. I’ve seen “Black Mirror.”
I know how this goes. So I’ve
chosen a few songs to listen to
this week as we collectively
face Sophia’s inevitable wrath.
Of course, I’ll be damned
to sit around while a machine
that looks like an embalmed
corpse at a viewing readies
itself for human extinction.
Something
must
be
done.
“Yoshimi Battles The Pink
Robots Part 1” immediately
comes to mind, but I also
think that this mission to
save humanity would do well
to channel Rico Nasty’s most
recent track, “Smack A Bitch,”
which is exactly what needs
to be done with this oddly
sexualized death trap. In the
words of the master, “If I see
you in the street, bitch your ass
is done.” And Sophia doesn’t
even have an ass. “To Fix The
Gash In Your Head” is another
great song for the occasion,
a harsh, relentless shoegaze
track that sounds ready-made
as a pump up anthem for
killing robots. “I want to beat
you up / I don’t care, cause I
won’t feel sorry / I want to
take you down / I know that
you will see in glory.”
I start doing some research,
figuring out where to find
her, deciding my mode for
attack. But in the process, I
come across some disturbing
news. Combat robots exist,
and by some reports, will
outnumber regular soldiers
by 2025. That seems like an
overeager prediction but the
point is clear. Killing Sophia
isn’t going to cut it. We need
a full scale destruction of
all robots, everywhere. Yet
robot construction is taking
off, becoming a favorite of
engineering
schools
and
Amazon interns. The future
seems
bleaker
than
I’d
even imagined. I’d like to
start handing out DVDs of
“The Terminator” on North
Campus, but it’s pretty cold
outside, and I don’t really
like it up there. The buildings
are freaky and the people are
strange.
Elvis
Depressedly
has a beautiful track titled
“Exhaustion
Prevails,”
and
this captures what I’m feeling
in the face of robot attack, now
that I’m judging the odds more
accurately.
I’m
looking
at
Sophia’s
face a little more closely now,
and OK, I’ll admit, there are
some advantages. Objectively
it’s symmetrical, which is a
good base indicator of beauty.
Her lips can never chap, and
her eyes do have a brooding
quality which I like. She never
has to do her eyebrows, and
yet they’re perfect. And her
neck has intriguing muscle
action going on that I can’t
stop looking at. Maybe I’m
approaching her the wrong
way. Perhaps I should give her
a chance. “Computer Love,”
the hit single by Kraftwerk,
speaks to this ambivalence
I’m increasingly feeling in the
face of this modern reality.
Perhaps … perhaps I can learn
to love.
You know what — robots
do deserve some love, too.
In “Ladies and Gentlemen
We Are Floating in Space,”
Spiritualized reminds us that
we’re all just moving on a small
rock in an enormous empty
universe. What’s the point
in
differentiating
between
living, breathing humans and
artificial intelligence? I’m not
sure I know anymore. With a
few wardrobe improvements,
Sophia might just be the one
for me. Together we’ll sing,
“So please put your sweet
hand in mine / and float in
space and drift in time.”
MATT GALLATIN
Daily Arts Writer
August of my
freshman year of
college I arrived
to Ann Arbor
with the intense
desire to be
independent
Rage against the machine and our future robot overlords
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
Elaine
Welteroth
has
announced her departure from
Teen Vogue, and I have a lot to
say.
In its earlier days, Teen
Vogue always seemed to feel
like it was almost there. Its
articles were almost edgy.
The
styling
was
sublime.
Boundaries
of
diversity
were acknowledged, though
generally not broken.
Then, in May of 2016, Elaine
Welteroth took the reins.
Though not officially named
editor-in-chief until Apr. of
2017, Elaine took on the job
of “interim editor” from the
moment Amy Astley, Teen
Vogue’s former editor-in-chief,
departed
for
Architectural
Digest. She had previously
served
as
the
magazine’s
Beauty
&
Health
Director
beginning in 2012, producing
what I always found to be the
most exciting content in every
issue. Maybe that was because
I finally saw curly hair like
mine being embraced, maybe I
just thought she helped create
pretty pictures. Either way,
something about Elaine had
always enthralled me, and so
when she became Teen Vogue’s
head honcho, I could feel new
ground breaking beneath my
feet.
I wrote my first article
for teenvogue.com the same
month Elaine became editor-
in-chief
—
a
simple,
no
nonsense Q&A with model and
activist Leomie Anderson. It
changed my life. Teen Vogue
was the first publication to pay
me for my work, a milestone
for a young woman who had
grown up wondering whether
this
writing
thing
would
work out. Elaine’s editorship
encompassed a hell of a lot
more than the three articles
I wrote for Teen Vogue, but
they taught me more about
myself than even the best
political columns published
by Lauren Duca. There was a
finally space in the world for
me to be taken seriously, to be
given the deserved credit and
compensation for expressing
my unique voice. I’m sure a
myriad of other young women
and
femmes
would
agree:
Elaine’s Teen Vogue didn’t
just talk the talk. It walked
the walk, and turned it into
a no-fucks-given strut. She
genuinely wanted us involved,
not only as an audience, but
as
valuable
contributors
Elaine Welteroth and me
STYLE NOTEBOOK
TESS GARCIA
Daily Style Editor
Continued on p. 6A
ELI RALLO
Daily Food Columnist
ACROSS
1 Soaking spots
6 Wile E. Coyote’s
supplier of iron
bird seed
10 Car ad no.
14 Cry during a
winning streak
15 Stick in one’s __:
cause resentment
16 Home furnishings
giant
17 Delayed show of
surprise
19 River sediment
20 “Happy Motoring”
company
21 Philosopher
Descartes
22 “Hamlet” courtier
23 “Frumious” beast
in “Jabberwocky”
26 Suave
29 Long, wriggly
swimmers
30 “Rock-a-bye
Baby” tree limb
31 “From the __ of
Montezuma ... ”
34 Q’s neighbor, on
most keyboards
37 Tolkien creature
38 Cosmetic surgery
that removes bags
40 Program file
ending
41 NFL official
42 Graphic showing
50 sts.
43 Central Florida
city
45 To be, to Caesar
47 Wound like
S-curves
48 Eight-ball call
53 Stubble remover
54 Big name in skin
care
55 Playbill listings
59 “Am __ early?”
60 Indicate
willingness to
date someone,
on Tinder ... and
an apt hint to the
last part of 17-,
23-, 38- and 48-
Across
62 Transmitted
63 Actress Campbell
64 Word before and
after “de la”
65 Quarry
66 Tram loads
67 Madison Ave. pro
DOWN
1 __ one’s time:
wait
2 “Famous” cookie
man
3 Therefore
4 Large, bindle-
shaped purse
5 Abbr. on a
Cardinal’s cap
6 Performed on
stage
7 “Whooping”
marsh bird
8 Manufacturer
9 Flock female
10 Mass book
11 Beef often used
in stir-fry
12 Thing of the past
13 Pothole repair
18 Fish-eating bird
22 Brit’s 14-pound
equivalent
24 Busch partner in
beer
25 Starter starter
26 Lyft competitor
27 Playbill listing
28 Minimal-conflict
area
31 Garment border
32 First state,
alphabetically:
Abbr.
33 Impudence
35 Rod between
wheels
36 Necklace sphere
39 River of Flanders
44 __ seat:
advantageous
spot
46 High-and-mighty
47 Breed of terrier
48 Fruity dessert
49 Wild West film
50 Remote button
51 Fruit that’s black
when fully ripe
52 Lighthouse
locales
56 Disney CEO
Robert
57 “Good heavens!”
58 Part of a
recovery
program
60 __-Caps: candy
61 Color TV
pioneer
By Roger and Kathy Wienberg
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
01/16/18
01/16/18
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
RELEASE DATE– Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
xwordeditor@aol.com
5A — Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com