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Staton: The Wednesday things changed

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Wednesday morning should have been, and should have felt like, any regular old Wednesday morning. The sun still rose. The Earth still spun on its axis. The leaves still fell from the trees in the beautiful fashion that is autumn.

But for me, and many of us who don’t fit into the perfect little white box that is the majority of the country, Wednesday morning felt a little colder, a little darker, a little sadder and a whole lot more unsafe. Because on Wednesday morning, the minorities of this country — the so-called ‘little people’ whose voices you so rarely hear and rarely receive the attention and respect they deserve — found out, to their dismay, that the next commander-in-chief of this country would be Donald Trump.

Wednesday morning — as a disabled female with many black friends, many Arab friends, a black boyfriend and a few transgender and bisexual friends — I woke up and cried. I woke up on this particular Wednesday morning, which should have felt like any other Wednesday morning, to the realization that half of this country didn’t care about me. And that was the single loneliest hour I have felt in my life.

I felt lonely because my entire family voted for this man: someone whose entire campaign trail has been ablaze with horrible misogynistic, homophobic and racist commentary; referred to illegal immigrants as rapists; beauty queens as ugly, housekeeping pigs; and flat-chested women as being all the more difficult to find attractive. A man who openly mocked a disabled reporter on national television and who selected a running mate that openly supports conversion therapy for the LGBTQ community, instead of simply respecting and accepting this community for the people that they are.

My heart is truly broken by the comments of Mr. Trump and the results of this election, even days after its announcement. I feel as if a part of the faith I held in the genuine benevolence of people as a whole has died. I feel scared for myself and for the people I hold near and dear to me. Most of all, I am genuinely afraid knowing that even if Mr. Trump himself doesn’t specifically act upon the terrible things he has said, he has succeeded in opening up a platform for those to act upon who really do think that immigrants are rapists, that grabbing women by their genitals and physically and verbally degrading them is an acceptable and okay thing to do, that referring to minority groups of people with insulting racial slurs and mocking the handicapped and LGBTQ community is normal.

I implore you all who read this to refuse to accept this sort of behavior. Do not become complacent. Do not let your feelings of uneasiness and unwelcomeness be made normal. You deserve to feel safe, respected and appreciated regardless of who or what you are or where you come from. Do not let Mr. Trump, or those who may support him or his commentary, to deprive you of your right to openly be the person that you are in a country that prides itself so much upon the notion of freedom.

But above all, do not allow your hurt, your anger and your bitter feelings to overshadow the one remaining thing that has the ultimate power to bond us all together in the fight for what is right. That remaining thing is love. I know that right now, it is hard to do. But we must strive to treat every human being from every walk of life with the love and respect that they deserve as a person and to love and cherish our country and each other even when both may fall short in doing the same to us.

It has been several days now since the most controversial election in United States history and I am still at a loss for words. I’m deeply pained and afraid for this country and those of us in it, and I’m frightened as to what will become of us — all of us as a whole — especially if we can’t learn to truly love one another in spite of our varying degrees of difference. This election has troubled me to the very core of my being. It has made me question many things about our country and about mankind in general.

However, there are a few things that I do know. I do know that I truly do hope, for the sake of every human being in this country, that Mr. Trump acts for the benefit and well-being of his citizens. I truly hope he proves me wrong and he can prove himself to be a good and caring leader.

I do know that I still love all of mankind and believe in its benevolence and the ability to do and be good. If you cast your vote for Mr. Trump last week, please know and understand that I would still take up arms at your side, to fight in pursuit of what is right. I do know that there is good and decency in this world, and that I have been blessed to see a tiny glimpse of God everywhere I’ve been.

I do know that I am so incredibly sorry for those who have ever experienced the sting of racism, sexism, religious prejudice, hate speech, homophobia and any sort of language or action in which they have felt victimized and dehumanized. As a white female who grew up with privilege in many respects, I was fortunate enough not to have to experience any of this directly or on a large scale. Now that I am disabled, and am looked down upon by the president elect, I am able to do more than simply empathize with these struggles that so many have faced; I am now able to understand because I find myself in the same boat. And I promise to stick out that ride with all of you, no matter how bumpy it may prove. Our boat will not sink.

Callie Staton is a third-year Law and Social Thought major and one of the IC’s copy editors.


Sennett: The Importance of Being Earnest — a review

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Gwendolyn was shocked and offended while drinking tea. This can only lead to the inevitable spit-take, live on-stage. I was in the front row, lucky enough to be positioned directly adjacent to where director James Stover had blocked Christina Pinciotti for her character’s big, comical gasp. You do the math.
Act II. Algernon and Jack are alone in a garden, “You can’t possibly ask me to go without having some dinner. It’s absurd. I never go without my dinner. No one ever does, except vegetarians and people like that.” Now I think this play is trying to roast me.
With a classic comedy of manners like The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde, one would expect to see performances at schools and colleges quite regularly. It is part of the core-curriculum of any theatrical education, right next to Sophocles and Shakespeare. The challenge is to perform a version that seems fresh and relevant.
Wilde was able to satirize an entire genre while simultaneously following it beat-by-beat. Stover, a brand-new member of UT’s Department of Theatre and Film, expressed his literacy for theatre and awareness of Wilde’s “wink, wink” approach in a tightly directed version of “Earnest.” UT Center Theatre regular, Nolan Thomaswick and new-face, Bryan Harkins portrayed Jack and Algernon, a.k.a., Ernest and Ernest. Their natural chemistry was classy and hit consistent humorous notes that would make classic Hollywood proud.
Once again, Daniel Thobias and Nathan White created cleaver scenery that changed by rotating turntables at the end of each act. In period pieces, set designers are often intimidated to simply re-create an era. But this play is a comedy. Thobias and White were able to incorporate comedy into every element on stage, from upside-down furniture, to ridiculous portraits on the wall, every element captured the charm of the text. With the cleaver production design and company, this version would be a perfect introduction to Oscar Wilde to anyone unfamiliar with his work.
I must stress, however, the moments in this play that might just make Wilde rotate slightly in his coffin. The characters in this production do not simply recite puns, they act them out as if the audience were too dumb to understand them. Anytime a college tackles a classic, there is an urge to draw a little too much attention to sexual innuendo. Part of what makes Wilde so rewarding to read is the subtlety of his innuendoes. Sex is all over “Earnest,” but you have to look for it. Spelling it out to an audience takes away from the cleverness of its disguise.
The most important part of revisiting a classic play is to bring it to life again. That is the gift of theatre. It’s temporary and only truly lives for a few short hours at a time. Stover’s interpretation of “Earnest” was relevant and full of life. Being spat on by one of the main characters was, if nothing else, interactive. It really stayed with me.
Evan Sennett is a second-year film major and is an IC cartoonist.

Clifton: Embracing the natural beauty within us

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The beauty industry is dominating television, radio and the internet in a way that leaves the core of a girl’s sense of self-worth shattered. While this is nothing new, the industry has found a way to take advantage of the despicable position that society already puts women in, convincing women that they can never be beautiful in their natural state. Women have to look a certain way in order to be accepted as ‘beautiful.’ It’s also unacceptable for a woman to affirm her natural beauty. Those who try it are chastised by their friends and sometimes by their families too. A woman cannot be so conceited.
Instead of allowing women the same opportunity of self-expression as men, they are taught to hate themselves and to look down on anything about their personality that they’ve not enhanced artificially. It’s a system of self-hate. Mothers teach their daughters to love themselves, but as they age and interact more with society and leave the protection of the household, it gets harder for them to keep that mentality.
As a girl, I am devastated that I have to grow up in this society that teaches me to hate myself. By our teenage years, most of us are already experimenting with expensive cosmetics. We believe these will make our faces glow brighter, our teeth sparkle whiter and our hairs rest so majestically over our shoulders. Those who can afford it undergo expensive surgeries to augment their breasts or buttocks. The reason? To be more admired by the same society that created this bondage in the first place.
Instead of focusing on the things that would matter for better future careers, like studying hard, we become so fascinated by being the first to wear the most fashionable dress on campus and to be the girl that the boys think is ‘hot.’ So much for earning that accolade!
To a great extent, we can put the blame on Cosmo magazine and its cousins in that industry that continue to suffocate the young girl with the idea that she’s worthless without these expensive cosmetics, dresses, or surgeries. That girl will soon become an adult and get sucked in this expensive addiction. These beauty companies tell us that the standard is to become a skinny model or angel, and if you’re already skinny they say you should have a toned skin. Nothing is ever enough in this ever-changing industry, and although everybody knows that these expectations are unrealistic, the girl has to keep up or be left behind.
Many girls have even committed suicide and many future dreams have been shattered in the pursuit of this expectations. The consequences are endless.
The everyday effects of these pressures on a girl can be devastating. We continue chasing these dreams until, ultimately, we can no longer appreciate the beauty that is inherent in us or in other girls that we meet. We hate ourselves for not making society’s cut for the ‘beautiful’ that we become so mean-spirited, walking around like zombies chasing the next fresh blood until we get the next cosmetic fix.
But this is what I think: Ladies, instead of worrying unnecessarily about how we don’t fit in or about how we’re not as beautiful as the next person, we should take a moment to appreciate the enormous beauty that lies within us. This beauty, which no amount of cosmetic make-up can hide, is the only thing that really matters. How about understanding that these angels and models that society expects us to aspire to become are unreal?
The beauty industry knows that soon enough we’d find out that the push for cosmetic makeovers is not because they actually care about us, they knew we’d find out that it’s all about meeting their business’s bottom-line.
We’ll become happier when we realize that our beauty comes from within and not from expensive surgeries or cosmetics. Use surgeries and cosmetics if you want, but the motivation should not be because you think that’s your source of beauty or happiness.
Let’s band together to make sure every woman feels like she can still belong in our society even without expensive cosmetic makeovers. We can do this by starting a movement of girls on campus complimenting each other’s messy buns, non-makeup face and bleach-stained sweatpants. Let us embrace how we are.
Riley Clifton is a first-year majoring in communication and an IC columnist.

Abayateye: The price we pay to be accepted and relevant

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We are told to strive for success, and with success comes a sense of relevance. But what is the price to remain relevant? I don’t mean the Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg or Barack Obama type of relevance, although that’s great too. I’m talking about that desire to be loved, to be respected or to be appreciated by our classmates, friends, family and perhaps by society.

As we prepare to kiss 2016 goodbye and welcome the splendor and promise of a new year, I thought it would help to have this conversation with someone.

As students, we join sororities and professional groups. We also become friends with certain people, all in the hope of creating connections that would benefit us one day. Then eventually we start our careers, move to better neighborhoods and become members of exclusive societies. Soon, we realize that relationships with some family and friends who could not make it up the social and economic ladder are no longer useful to us. We start seeing less of them. Somehow, we convince ourselves that these choices work well with our desire to be relevant. But relevant for who? What is the cost to ourselves, our friends and to our societies?

I had opportunity to listen to a podcast my friend Janet sent me this weekend. It was a great chance to reflect on my life and to see just how much I had to sacrifice in order to remain relevant and in people’s “good books.” Once upon a time, I smiled at someone who consistently told me I was worthless only to leave his presence and nurse my tears. There was a time when all I cared about was to make others happy, even if that meant withholding my own pain. Well, I probably still do that today.

Unfortunately, I spent important years of my development just trying to please people and to win their acceptance. I accepted the dumbing-down of my value, shattering of my self-confidence and agreed to live a life created by this unhealthy desire to be liked. I forgot I didn’t need anybody’s validation in order to be who I’m made to be. I would always tell myself that if only I can do this one thing to make the next person happy, then he’d like me. I forgot that my happiness and relevance did not depend on anyone liking me or hating me.

But I’m glad I know better today. I am happy that I no longer make apologies for my actions because, unlike in my earlier years, I’m no longer craving to be loved or accepted or noticed. I’m no longer putting up with idiocy just to be loved. I have long embraced my personal value and not waiting on anyone to validate it. I choose what I do without much concern about what others may think. This is not to say that I go out doing crazy stuff with impunity. Yet, most importantly, I’m not looking for friendships that I don’t need in the first place or fighting for spots in people’s lives. Being alone is not a curse; it can be a blessing in disguise.

My happiness and relevance does not come from whether people like me or not.

So as you prepare to take account of your achievements and make plans for 2017, I just encourage you to not let anyone belittle you, because you don’t need anyone’s approval to be you. By all means, be appropriate in what you do and care about people’s feelings, but don’t do it with the wrong motivations. Do it because, deep down, you feel that is what you want to do. Don’t compromise on believing that you’re valuable. Love yourself. Do good. Be happy. You’re already relevant even if the world doesn’t see it in you.

Philemon Abayateye is a Ph.D student in the Department of Geography and Planning and the IC’s Opinion Editor.

Nieszczur: I won’t take the blame anymore

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From the girl whose automatic response is “I’m sorry” even when it’s not my fault, who doesn’t honk even when you cut me off and who won’t stand up for myself when I’m blatantly being disrespected: I’m telling you that it’s time to toughen up.

Ever had an experience that leaves you questioning if you can do anything right? Ever felt so beaten down that you start to forget your worth? I had an experience this past summer that left me feeling this way. I was lied to, disrespected and made to feel that I wasn’t even capable of completing simple tasks. I didn’t counter the attacks; I stood there and took it. This left me heartbroken, debilitated and depressed. Instead of letting it go or really analyzing the situation, I let it eat at me. I started to believe what had been told to me. I greeted each day with an “I’m useless anyway” attitude and didn’t see a point in trying. With that attitude, I let the person who disrespected me win. I let their words have their intended effect.

After weeks of harboring these feelings and feeling sorry for myself, I finally confided in friends who helped to set the record straight. I realized that I wasn’t the things that this person had tried to convince me that I was. I realized that I couldn’t let others define my worth; only I had the power to do this. This was the day that I let these feelings go and from that day on, things began to change.

No longer did I feel obligated to sit and take others’ criticisms. No longer was I the butt of the joke. I’ll honk my horn every now and again and I may even say “It’s okay” instead of “I’m sorry.” I no longer feel like a pushover; rather, I feel empowered. I know myself and my worth and I won’t let that be compromised again.

Looking forward to the New Year, I challenge you to stop blaming yourself. Surely, none of us are perfect but sometimes it really isn’t you, it’s them — and don’t let ‘them’ get you down. Stop taking the fall for others. Stop compromising your worth and making excuses for yourself. You are worth it.

When you’re having a bad day, remember all the good that you have influenced in the world. Remember all the blessings you have and all the people who love and care about you. Don’t let the bad boss, poor friend, jealous coworker or whoever it may be question your integrity. Next year is a new slate and start believing that it’s not always you. Alexis Nieszczur is a PharmD student in the College of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences.

 

Abayateye: A tribute to a visionary leader—giving praise where it’s due

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Mark Twain’s inspiring counsel is this: Focus on doing right because that both gratifies and surprises people. We all need this, but one person that is living this goal, in my opinion, is President Sharon Gaber, University of Toledo’s 17th and first female president. My four-year studentship at this university gives me a good idea of what UT expects of its “president of the people.” This is not a socialist cliché but a recognition of how Gaber’s actions embody the aspirations of this community. Let’s be fast to criticize, but even faster to praise.

Flashback. My excitement about Gaber’s appointment in July 2015 was mainly because she was going to be the first female president of the university. Then I attended a public seminar at University Hall where her mentor and a colleague, I believe from Boston and UCLA, respectively, spoke about her work and character.

Then I read her resume—a city and regional planning expert, an accomplished well-published academic and the provost and vice chancellor for academic affairs at the University of Arkansas. At that point I knew UT had the real deal; I came to appreciate these qualifications better than her being the first female president.

Then came the time to work. Some say you can judge the outcome of a person by the goals she sets and I agree. Among her goals, Gaber wants to enhance the national reputation of the university, increase student enrollment and graduation rates, hire high-quality faculty, administrators and staff, increase the share of externally-funded research and to increase the University’s philanthropic support.

It’s one thing to set goals and another to implement. So, like others, I was particularly interested in how Gaber could increase student enrollment and enhance the university’s national reputation.

Intelligently and quickly, she figured out the role of social media, especially among a growing millennial population. It’s no secret that in this age when universities are fighting over dwindling student populations, he who can play the social media game better stands to win greater.

One of her admirable strategies, therefore, is to directly reach out to prospective students on social media. She is quick to extend congratulations and warmly welcome students to campus. Among that long list are Lindsay Haynes, Cara Asanbekova, Taylor Coronado and Kiertin Tutt. She personally told Taylor that, “We look forward to having you join the Rockets. You are going to love UT. Happy 2017!” Then to Cara she said, “We can’t wait to see you at UToledo!” These genuine interactions will go a long way to assure these people of a vibrantly welcoming environment here on campus, and make that decision process easier for UT’s benefit.

The ability to have programs to keep students involved and satisfied is important for improving graduation rates. This is also the strength of our president. When a student, Joshua Hill, for example, wanted to know when Steak ’n Shake would finally start operating on campus, she responded, “I hear they think it will be March! Can’t wait.” Gaber also takes so much joy in interacting with and helping students move into their residences, hanging out with students during pep rallies and taking part in events like Zeta Phi Eta’s #PikeFiremansChallenge to raise awareness and funds for the Toledo Fire & Rescue Foundation.

It’s always a proud moment to read her emails updating the campus community on developments and to what her administration is doing about these issues. Whether it is asking inputs for a strategic development plan or just reassuring the community about safety measures and the university’s commitment to a diverse campus, she does it so well.

It doesn’t matter what the incidence is or whether it has potential of impugning the image of the school and her administration, she still reaches out to us.

Consider when she had to deal with the racially-charged assault on Rayshawn Watkins at the Pi Kappa Phi fraternity, she was very open and measured in her actions. That reaction effectively minimized any adverse implications the event may pose to the university’s reputation. She also made clear that sexual assault will not be tolerated on campus and her commitment to ending sex trafficking in our region is also exemplary.

In one of our darkest moments, when UT third-year Logan Green went missing and was later found dead, Gaber provided both comfort and emphasized the university community’s commitment to the principle of “One for all, all for one.”

Somehow, we expect all these to produce results and yes, we’re experiencing them. For instance, for the first time in six years, last fall the university recorded an increased enrollment. There’s very little limit to what we can do when everyone feels involved in the process.

So President Gaber, this is just a tribute from a student who admires what you’re doing to enhance the reputation and value of his college. You’ve taken Kenneth W. Thomas’ encouragement to heart when he said to make sure we’re not just waiting for someone else to fix things, or hoping that things will improve, but to figure out what’s going on and make a plan to improve them. Whatever is left to be done I’m confident you’ll continue to rely on the valuable contributions of everyone. Good job so far.

Philemon Abayateye is a Ph.D student in the Department of Geography and Planning and the IC’s Opinion Editor.

Harker: Technology and children—not always a bad union

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This past Christmas I was able to spend a week at home in Youngstown, Ohio, with my family. This was a rare opportunity for me, considering I can’t drop everything and make a three-hour drive every weekend. I was especially excited to see everyone while they opened their presents. As the oldest sibling in a divorced family, I have a 19-year-old sister, a 17-year-old brother, a 13-year-old step-sister and a half-sister that’s only 10.
When the Big Day arrived, we all gathered around the tree and dove straight into the massive pile of presents in front of us. When the initial carnage was completed and we thought all the presents were gone, my mom pulled out a small box from under her chair and passed it around the room with the instructions, “One last one for Christina.”
Christina is my youngest sister, having just turned 10 a few days before Christmas. She ripped quickly through the paper on the box and then started to shriek. It was a brand new iPhone 7.
At first I was irritated and kind of jealous. That has a lot to do with me carrying around the iPhone 6 while my sister (who is 10 years younger than me!) gets a brand-new, top-of-the-line phone. But after awhile, my attitude started to change.

My biggest issue about going to Toledo for my college education is that it’s so hard to have my siblings growing up so far away from me. I feel like every time I see them , they have changed completely. Especially the younger two siblings, who seem to grow a foot taller every other day. I don’t get to see them on a regular basis because we have such busy lives.
However, since my younger sister has gotten a phone, I speak to her every single day. I even get to visually see her, since her new favorite thing is FaceTime. Before, I felt like I was missing everything. Now she calls me simply to say “Hi!”, even when nothing is going on.
This reconnection with my sister is something that I didn’t know I needed until I had it. I was always under the impression that technology ruins childhoods, but now I see the wide possibilities it can open up. It can lead to a closeness that was slowly slipping from my grasp.
Not only has this been a positive thing for our sibling relationship, it has also allowed my sister to reconnect with family all over the country. Our uncle and his family moved to Pennsylvania a couple of years ago, and it was hard on her because they were all very close. Now she gets to talk to him and her cousins whenever she wants to. But the perks don’t end at mere communication.
Now that my sister has a phone, my mother and stepfather have the ability to more closely regulate where she is. They have a family app that allows them to set boundaries for her, as well as receive notifications when she comes to or leaves the house. For a household with two busy, working parents with a very independent little girl, this was a sigh of relief.
She’s safer, she’s more connected with her family and she’s happier than ever. A lot of people will still argue that these things don’t outweigh the negative effects of giving children technology like this at such a young age, but I disagree.
The main issue always seems to be that they are going to spend all of their time on their phone, that they will turn into lifeless robots glued to their screens and obsessed with the Internet and social media. Yet, as my sister is more connected than ever before, it seems to be the exact opposite. She spends more time outside, she gets to be with her friends more and my parents feel more comfortable giving her these freedoms because they know she will stay safe.
I think that the biggest issue is a fear of change, but today’s kids are not the same kids that grew up years ago. They are different, and as time changes we have to keep evolving in how we look at the world. These advancements were not available in earlier years, so to judge a childhood’s worth before and after these things were available is completely worthless. I think we need to reexamine the way we view technology in relationship to childhood and realize that, while too much of a good thing can lead to disaster, writing off all technology as bad actually undermines the positive opportunities for families like mine. Simply, don’t knock it till you’ve actually seen what it can do.
Jessica Harker is a third-year communication student and the IC’s Editor-in-Chief.

Basnet: What’s inside an atom?

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All building blocks of matter are made up of elementary particles, particles that cannot be sub-divided. They are fundamental. This phenomenon can be explained by the “Standard Model of Particle Physics” or, for science geeks, a gauge quantum field theory. The standard model, therefore, consists of a set of Fermions, Leptons and Bosons.
Fermions are divided into two categories; quarks and leptons. There are six quarks altogether. Up, down, charm, strange, top, bottom. And six leptons; electron, muon, tau, electron-neutrino, muon-neutrino, and tau-neutrino. As of now, there are five experimentally verified gauge bosons: photon, gluon, W and Z boson, and the Higgs Boson. Confirmed in 2012, the Higgs Boson gives mass to all other subatomic particles. In popular culture it is referred to as the ‘God particle.’
Let me attempt to explain the simplest element, a hydrogen atom. A hydrogen has one proton and one electron, very simple. Electron is a part of the “Standard Model,” so it ought to be fundamental. However, proton isn’t.
A proton is made up of quarks and gluons. The combination of one up quark and two down quarks makes a proton. Thus, two up and one down makes a neutron. The quarks in a proton are band by gluons. Gluons are force carriers; they mediate strong force between quarks. So three of these quarks exchange strong force via the gluons. The mathematics around this is called ‘Quantum Chromodynamics,’ one of physics’ hardest calculations.

Everything you observe in nature is derived from these quark combinations, including humans. We are made of mostly proton and neutron, so we can call ourselves baryonic matter.
There are four fundamental forces in nature: strong, weak, electromagnetism, and gravitation. Particle physics explains these forces through force carriers. For instance, the strong force is carried by gluons, weak by W and Z bosons, electromagnetic interaction via photon, and experimentally unconfirmed graviton carries gravitational interaction.
The “Standard Model” was developed in the last half-century, so it is a fairly recent scientific achievement. In theory, any phenomenon that occurs in nature can be summarized with the complex mathematics of the standard model, other than gravity.
The story goes in the very beginning when the universe was in the hot and dense state. Shortly after the Big Bang, the four forces of nature were combined into one unified force. Once the universe expanded and cooled down, gravity was first separated. Physicists have managed to combine the three of these four forces in the standard model, but gravity seems to be the hard one.

Gravitation is prominent in astronomical objects while the physics of small is explained by quantum mechanics. The problem is how to combine these two fields into one beautiful Theory of Everything? We will not go deeper into that because it deserves its own article.

Sans Basnet is a second-year student studying Physics and Mathematics. You can email me the answer at basnet@physics.org or tweet @SansBasnet.


Clifton: Experiences and lessons—the freshman’s road to success

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Hurray! I’m a freshman with one semester under my belt and, returning to campus, I thought I had all the survival tricks figured out. I mean, I’ve already experienced the whole transitional shock from high school to college, I’ve learned that the elevators in University Hall will make you pray for your life, and I’ve even learned that your syllabus is kind of a big deal. I mean, what more would a freshman need to know?

Sadly, the reality is that there’s more in store. I have an entirely new class schedule now and, like the stereotypical freshman, I find myself still holding a map of campus in one hand and my ‘week at a glance’ in the other. The stress of last semester doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, only growing. But will it ever subside, or is this going to be the experience for my entire college life?

I thought I knew campus very well, only to realize I only knew the couple of buildings where I had my classes last semester. The rest of the university still seems foreign to me.

My newest, and probably least favorite, obstacle has been the weather. Yes, I came in the fall when the weather was all fair and bright and different colors of the campus trees seemed to smile at you as you passed by. It’s sad that the stockpile of snow which gave campus its pure look does not have the same effect.

Instead, it stings and sometimes forces those precious tears down your cheeks. Not that I’m new to the snow experience; after all, I grew up in Toledo. But this experience is different. If I could walk around with a ski mask on and not look completely ridiculous, I totally would. In high school I’d never worry about bundling up in the winter. I wore nothing more than a hoodie to school in the middle of January. The most I had to experience of the frigid weather was the minute walk from my car into the building.

I have learned something else that I think has changed me. Before coming to college, I used to care about whether my stocking hat messed up my hair or not. Now, I’m indifferent. Maybe it’s part of my becoming a person who cares about the important stuff more than the trivial things, like how I look. For example, I learned that you’re never too cool for a coat.

I’m also learning that a few weeks away from campus doesn’t eliminate the stressful endeavor of circling the parking lot while counting on my luck to find a spot before my class begins. My status as a commuting freshman means that I can only park in a few lots on campus. Well, I think that’s ridiculous, considering we pay the same fee for parking permits just as everyone else. I guess seniority rules; maybe it’ll make sense to me after I accumulate credit hours and earn that privilege to park at multiple locations without burning a couple of gallons of gas while doing so.

Importantly, I learned that college is not a place for funfair and that spending more time in the library pays more than spending it elsewhere. In high school, studying for a test is basically reading over your notes five minutes before the bell rings. My first college examinations gave me a rude and perhaps disheartening awakening. I know better to put in all the time and work now.

I realize that as a freshman I can only continue to work harder and figure out the tricks to become a successful student. Stressful moments may come, but I’m determined to make it through.

Riley Clifton is a first-year majoring in communication and an IC columnist.

Abayateye: “I’m a woman and these women don’t represent me.”— Really?

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“How can you say to a brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite!” This scripture points out the hypocrisy in our society.

This past weekend was eventful because of two important things that happened. First, we witnessed the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States of America. However, across the world the very next day, overwhelming crowds of women protested in the Million Women’s March.

The women’s protests happened concurrently in major cities including Washington D.C., Los Angeles, New York, Boston, London, Paris, Melbourne, Tel Aviv, Barcelona and more. But what really were these women protesting, and why do some people feel so irritated and offended by their march? The truth is, all these protesters want is an end to the patriarchy’s systemic practices that subjugate, marginalize and disparage their gender.

The American protests were particularly ignited by the fear that their new president would not promote issues that empower women considering the divisive and disparaging language with which he described women and other minorities during his election campaigns.

These women want to be left alone to make the important choices about their reproduction and sexuality. They also want truly equal opportunities to attain the highest positions possible within their workplaces. Additionally, they want an end to public policies that overtly and covertly promote the thinking that women belong to the home. I thought these were sensible demands until the barrage of criticisms started pouring in.

Men, and sadly some women, started pointing out how especially the demand to make one’s own choices about their reproductive health violates God’s word and the values of American nationhood. Even other women quickly came out with the chant, “I’m a woman and these women don’t represent me.” I must confess that this attitude doesn’t surprise me, given how hypocritical our society is. We suddenly become saints when it comes to what others do, but we won’t hold ourselves to the same level of accountability.

If only we’d condemn our own fornication, adultery, cheating and deceitful behavior, or covetousness, and you can add more! After all, the same Bible condemns these behaviors.

America is a secular country. It is true that Christians are in the majority, but, ultimately, it is a country of people from varying faiths and backgrounds. These different people pay the same taxes you pay, so they expect their president and lawmakers to protect them just as much as you expect to be protected. So how is it justifiable to ask government to use its coercive power to legislate everyone into following one set of values—your values—while ignoring theirs? I’m a Christian and, in many ways, consider myself a conservative. Yet, I won’t expect everyone to share my values and beliefs, even when they don’t want to. That attitude is undemocratic. We should realize that, when it comes to what people do with their lives, our personal values and opinions are immaterial.

So it’s all right for a woman to think that her fellow woman shouldn’t have the right to make choices that affect her own life. It’s OK to even think that women are better housewives than corporate executives. It’s all right to say that the women who marched on Jan. 21 did not represent you. But while you’re at it, don’t expect everyone to support or validate your values as the one best behavior.

It’s the different views and values of the millions of citizens of this country that make it a great and exemplary democracy.

Philemon Abayateye is a Ph.D. student in the Department of Geography and Planning and the IC’s Opinion Editor.

 

Schnipke: Finding happiness—by stressing myself tf out

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It’s four a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Only hours before, the IC staff and I finished another amazing newspaper. I headed home, hoping to fall right into bed, but instead I have to finalize two papers for my English classes, fix a presentation for a communication class and finish reading 25-odd pages of textbook for another class. I can’t skip off into dreamland quite yet, and, sadly, I have to be up at seven in order to be on campus by eight for another full day of classes.

Stress. You can see it in the bags under my eyes, the constant chatter of my cell phone and the shortening of my words as the day goes by. ‘Stressful’ is just one word my friends and I use to describe our lives. Hectic, crazy and absurd are others. We are stressed constantly: 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Now that I’m one semester away from my senior year of college, I finally understand the junior year stress. Free time no longer exists, student loans are crossing my mind and LinkedIn is the new Facebook. I spend so much of my time thinking about the future, which suddenly doesn’t seem so far away.

I’m stressing myself out. Most of us are. You don’t have to be in college and you don’t even have to have anything to really worry about. I freak out over the littlest of things. I stress when I get a new email, when I see how much laundry I have to do, when I don’t drink enough water and especially when I read the news. My calendar is packed and each day adds a new little event to tack on. I’m overloaded. I have stress, stress and stress.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why did I add on a new group and a part-time job last semester? Why do students continually get involved?

The answer is simple: We want to. I want to be busy. I want to be stressed. It doesn’t make much sense to my mental health, but I like having stuff to do. I have the good kind of stress: the kind that makes me want to attend five different events in one day because I need to take it all in.

College is my time to experience new things and meet new people. I want to expand myself professionally in a fraternity (Rush Zeta!), I want to write about something new each week and I want to ace my classes. I take around 18 credit hours each semester because I don’t want to miss out on a new class. It’s why I took an anatomy class last semester instead of a basic science class. I want to do more.

I like going that extra mile. If I get a little more stressed out about a certain project than I should, it doesn’t matter. That extra stress means that I care. Worrying is my way of getting the job done. Often I worry a little too much, but it’s taken care of pretty quickly with a ‘Dude, chill tf out’ text from my friends. They get it. I send them the same texts just as often.

Being busy just makes the time I spend by myself all that much sweeter. I appreciate the sunrise almost every morning, even when it wakes me up earlier than I have to be awake. I find little breaks in my life to smile and laugh. It’s not all constant running. Anytime that I get lunch with friends, it gets put into my calendar, circled with a heart.

Stressing myself is my personal mission. I aim to make my life happy and do things that will make me happy. It sounds shallow, but it’s actually deeper than that. Even if I want to sleep in and miss all my classes, I pull my butt out of bed and drive to school because it will make me happier to have better grades than those extra three hours of sleep. It’s about short- and long-term goals.

To me, stress and happiness go hand in hand. I know it’s not that way for everybody, but it could be. Busy yourself with the things you like doing. Go to those Zumba classes on a regular basis. Knit 50 hats in one month for children with cancer. There are so many things in the world to try. Do yourself a favor and be happy in doing. I certainly am.

Emily Schnipke is the IC’s managing editor. She is a third-year communication student with a minor in English.

Rasey: Get involved and avoid resistance fatigue

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On Jan. 21, I attended the Million Women March on Washington, D.C.. I cannot fully express the feeling of marching with hundreds of thousands of folks who, for the most part, share my sentiments regarding the recently inaugurated president of the United States. It was renewing and enlivening to be there among other folks who most likely consider Trump to be a dangerously unstable fascist who has taken over the core of American democracy.

It does not help to see the ruin he has already done within just one week in office—and to think he has 4 years to do even more. That thought leaves me disappointed and wondering about the future of our country.

My biggest concern about Trump’s presidency is how the people are going to be able to hold him accountable. More importantly, will the people who voted for him hold him accountable? For those that didn’t, what deeds, aside from direct action, can be taken to prevent what seems to be an onslaught of fascist executive orders and legislation that are already hurting innocent people? Other than calling or writing to Congress, or writing in the local rag, how can the people resist Trump’s fascism?

It would seem that one potential answer, or at least a good starting point, is something along the lines of getting involved and staying connected together, as well as participating in the local democratic process.

There are several things that folks can do. Let’s start with students and student organizations. Student bodies for example, could demand that the municipality, in conjunction with the county and campus be a “sanctuary” for anyone that is threatened to be deported. No human being is illegal. I know we’re told that sanctuaries are bad, but what’s worse than tearing families apart and denying refugees? You would think that Trump and his colleagues would understand the value of family more than anyone else. They say it doesn’t matter, that some of these people they want to deport came to this country when they were little and thus, had no decision in the process.

Then the community at large, civil society organizations and local government all have a role to play. For instance, Toledo’s City Council meets every other Tuesday to review the agenda for upcoming Council meetings. This is a good platform for civil society organizations concerned with issues relating to basic rights to lobby and get their issues across to local policy holders. I should commend the Community Response Network, Black Lives Matter & Justice Or Else movement, NARAL pro-choice Ohio, Planned Parenthood and the UT Feminist Alliance for the great work they’re doing in this regard.

But this is not enough. It behooves every concerned member of our communities, students or just residents, to be actively involved with these groups. Find a group that represents your interests and help them in getting their message across. It’s not enough to complain:We need to take action. If there’s any lessons from the last presidential elections, it is that the lower-class folks and minorities pay more dearly for their apathy towards the political process than any other group of people.

Finally, I think you can take care of your “self” to resist Trump’s fascist moves and work towards holding your friends accountable for their own selves. I’m talking about mutual accountability here. At the risk of sounding like your mother, go for a walk, see friends, exercise, do yoga, get sleep, make a nice meal — do whatever it is that helps you stay sane and soothes your soul. Most importantly, find social support. Plenty of research shows that social capital is good for your holistic health. Get off the computer, away from the books and be with friends. If you don’t have friends, well, there are plenty of ways to get involved on campus and many other pathways to getting connected with the community — both will help you find and be a friend to someone. As for me, I enjoy petting the cats at the Lucas County animal shelter. There will be a need for stable people over the next four years. I am going to try my best to take my own advice, don’t worry.

Zachary Rasey is a graduate student in the education program.

Update: This article was first published under the heading, “The voice of the people is the voice of God—it’s time to get involved”

Williams: No longer a peachy relationship—Georgia and Tom Brady

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The New England Patriots defeated the Atlanta Falcons to become Super Bowl 51 champions in a historic comeback that ended 34-28 this past Sunday. Although I’m a Detroit Lions fan, I’ve come to identify more with Atlanta than I have ever identified with a city in my life. I just want to hug everyone in Atlanta and buy them chicken and waffles.

Believe me when I say I know what it feels like to be disappointed, having voted for Hillary Clinton in the last election. Yet I don’t think I can truly appreciate the pain of Falcons fans in what they thought was going to be a victory—throughout the entire game.

What Tom Brady and his Patriots did to Atlanta felt like watching Donald Trump slap all the members of Migos, then signing an executive order to replace every Waffle House and Wingstop in Georgia with an Applebee’s.

Atlanta had everything going for them up until the second half of the game. Even before the game had started, Atlanta had momentum.

Gucci Mane got out of prison, gets his first single on the Rae Sremmurd song “Black Beatles” for number one spot, only to be knocked off by another Atlanta native, Migos.

The Migos didn’t only have the No. 1 song but also the No. 1 one selling album in America on Super Bowl night. Georgia was boiling and the Falcons were expected to seal that excitement.

Everything was looking great for the Peach State’s natives.

The Atlanta mayor already ordered bars to stay open until 2:30 a.m. instead of the usual 12 a.m. Ludacris was in attendance, all signs pointed to the Falcons winning 120 to nil and the new national anthem would become “March Madness.”

If you only watched the first half, you can just pretend that the above prediction is what actually happened. Why not? Ever since the Bowling Green Massacre, reality hasn’t mattered.

The first half was incredible for Atlanta fans. Matt Ryan and the Falcons decimated the Patriots defense, putting up a huge 25-point lead at the half.

Towards the end of the half, Brady was playing like Brock Osweiler, and it seemed as if the Falcons were easily taking this game. How could it possibly go wrong?

The first indication that the Falcons might lose this game was when Lady Gaga didn’t bring out OutKast at halftime. There is absolutely no way the Patriots would have scored if instead of “Telephone” we saw Andre 3000 and Big Boi rise out of the ground to perform “Two Dope Boyz in a Cadillac.”

The second indication of a Falcon loss came when Bow Wow, who has been a consistent source of L’s since 2006, declared his support for the Atlanta Falcons in a tweet. The Falcons did not score after that tweet was posted.

Coming out of half-time, it seemed like Bill Belichick sat Brady down in his evil lair and said, “I’m the greatest coach of all time, and you’re the greatest quarterback of all time; why don’t we just win instead of losing?” Then they made a sacrifice to Sauron, saluted the picture of Darth Vader and headed back onto the field.

The second half for the Falcons felt like a Donald Trump tweet: disorganized, lots of mistakes, barely made any sense and someone will likely apologize for it. Also similar to Trump, a lot of decisions made by the Falcons were very questionable.

Why would you pass the ball on third and one in the fourth quarter? Just run down the clock with a short run. Devonta Freeman and Tevin Coleman had been incredible all night; 1-yard is nothing.

Instead, Matt Ryan is sacked on the pass attempt and fumbles the ball. Why challenge a catch deep in the fourth and waste your last timeout? Why wouldn’t you throw the ball to Julio Jones more? Lastly, and in what is probably the Falcons’ greatest mistake, why would you face Brady in a Super Bowl?

Brady played like an absolute monster in the last quarter and cemented his spot as the greatest quarterback of all-time. He also cemented his spot as one of the most hated people in the state of Georgia.

The worst part of the comeback isn’t the victory but the fact that Brady let Atlanta taste victory for a half.

People were celebrating the Falcon win at halftime of the game, crying, clapping and preparing their Jordan crying face photo-shopped on Brady images for Twitter. All for nothing.

He took a city that has nothing, let them experience greatness for one half and then took it away with ease. Even William T. Sherman, the man who burned Atlanta to the ground during the Civil War, would look at Brady and think, “Isn’t that a little rough on Atlanta, Tom?”

Sam Williams is a first-year student majoring in communication and is the IC’s sports editor.

Kovacs: Want more fun? Travel alone

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To put it bluntly, last semester was awful. I was a neurotic little ball of stress accompanied by newfound perfectionism. By December, I craved an escape.

So I bought a flight to England and landed alone. I was quite literally running away, if only for a week. No emails, texts, or calls. My personal heaven of a hiatus.

People joked about coming with me. I prodded them along and would have welcomed them if they were honestly able to join me. Quite selfishly, however, I truly wanted to be the only one landing at Heathrow Airport.

I am a person who thrives on solitude; my sanity depends on it.

I have traveled alone before, though, granted, not nearly enough to save my mother from a week of worry. Seriously, she texted me every day asking for a picture of my face so she knew I was alive. Love you, Mom.

Throughout my solo travel, though, I have discovered that traveling alone is the greatest thing people can do for themselves. Even if you aren’t a crazily introverted person such as myself, there is so much to gain.

First, solo travel creates fiercely independent people. The minute people realized I was traveling alone, I received a look of admiration and respect: eyebrows raised, slight head nod.

Being comfortable and confident in your own company is the start of a beautiful friendship. I was able to handle less-than-ideal situations being thrown at me left and right. I discovered that getting my credit card blocked while alone in a foreign land, my Airbnb accommodation canceled, a chipped tooth or even the fact of the trains on strike could not possibly overcome my determination to enjoy my travel. Successfully navigating through the chaos made me more certain of my independence.

Being alone while traveling also forced me to meet other people. It’s one thing to go to abroad with friends, but it’s a whole different experience to go to abroad with the intention of making friends.

In England, I had to go to restaurants and bars alone. Within five minutes of walking into any bar, I met people who welcomed me into their clique for a night of unpredictable entertainment, forcing me to shed a layer of introversion.

Even at the airport, I met people. I remain convinced that the most interesting people you will meet will be sitting at the same gate as you in any given airport. If it’s “all about who you know,” get to know the person sitting next to you on the plane. This is where future connections are made.

So if you so badly want to travel, you might just have to do it alone. Don’t get me wrong: Traveling with friends and family is great. In fact, someday I’ll write an article about why you should travel internationally with family.

But it just so happens that if you wait for someone to go with you, you probably aren’t going.

I’m well aware that if I want to see the sun rise in Durban, set in Chang Mai and reemerge over a British pebble beach, I won’t be able to go if I wait for someone to hold my hand. And that’s okay, because I know I can handle it alone.

Maybe it’s a bit grand to go halfway across the world to achieve my ideal solitude and assert my independence, but it was exactly what I needed and might be what you need too.

So to the guy in class who told me traveling alone is “weird,” allow me to first roll my eyes so hard it hurts, then explain that traveling alone is the best thing I ever did for myself. I crossed the border back into the U.S., feeling like the rejuvenated, confident badass I am.

Morgan Kovacs is a third-year English major and the IC’s news editor.

Sanders III: If ending the circus shows was great for the animals—what about the workers?

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When the Ringling Brothers closed, hundreds of circus workers were the most affected. They lost their jobs.

The managers were distraught thinking about what they were going to put the trained animals through. These animals have provided wonderful entertainment and funfair to their patrons for decades.

But I guess the critics, especially the Humane Society, can finally declare victory to their 100-year campaign to end the circus show. I’m sure that for these people, the fact that many people and families depended on income from circus employment didn’t mean much.

While they’re entitled to think what they want to think, I’m equally entitled to say that these critics and societies are doing more harm than good all in the name of animal rights protection.

Believe me, I like animals. I’m totally against animal abuse, but what could possibly be abusive with how these animals are used in these circus shows? Let’s not forget that these animals have been nurtured in a family-friendly environment and are accustomed to a certain standard of welfare.

Another thing that ended with the closure of Ringling Brothers was a long, cherished history of urban entertainment. The Ringling Brothers have entertained a countless number of guests at their shows. Founded in 1871, they continued to gather more success and delivered explosive entertainment.

The shows have never come short in leaving the audience in complete awe and shock. It’s true that sometimes the show got so intense that the audience couldn’t help but be concerned for the artists’ safety. But that was totally part of the show. It was all part of what made people travel tens and hundreds of miles just to be among a Ringling Brothers audience. After all, how many of these fears actually materialize?

Both children and adults alike found more entertainment in the face of a bright flashing screen. But, thanks to the critics, ticket sales continued to plummet, which left the company with little funding and caused it to, eventually, fold up. The outcome? No more flashy circus entertainment for people.

It’s sad that, when dealing with these type of issues, all we think about is the welfare of animals. We quickly assume that these animals are mistreated. After all, the Ringling Brothers were found guilty of animal cruelty by compelling animals to perform inappropriate stunts that jeopardize their welfare in 2011.

But I often ask myself these questions. When it comes to the welfare of the workers and their families who end up losing jobs and livelihoods because of these claims, who is looking out for them? Or is it that their lives are just not as important as that of these animals? It’s just fair and nice if someone is actually looking out for these people too.

William Sanders III is a second-year majoring in Communication.


Ayoub: Born in the wrong generation

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Being born in the wrong generation makes me only wish that I could put Arwin’s time machine from “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody” to good use. I could go back to the era of twisting to Chubby Checker and salivating over James Dean in “Rebel Without a Cause.”

My generation is too caught up in taking selfies and obsessing over our social media accounts. That is what we turn to in our search for a meaningful experience of a true young adult life. Our version of fun is watching Netflix while sending photos to friends on Snapchat as we are lazily slumped on our beds.

What happened to teenagers going out and actually hanging out and having face-to-face interactions?

In “The Sandlot,” which was based in the 1960s, we find Benny “the Jet” Rodriguez always playing baseball with his group of friends at the crack of dawn. Each day, they would have a blast together playing their favorite sport or soaking it up at the public pool. Their summer was unforgettable and full of adventure.

I would much rather be spending my summer going to a Beatles concert or listening to Frank Sinatra’s music or, yet, going to a drive-in movie theater to watch the latest Hitchcock movie. That would be a good excuse to cuddle up to that cute guy in my friends list.

The celebrities of those days were so admirable and attractive. Audrey Hepburn constantly had an aura of elegance and playfulness around her. Marlo Thomas, star of “That Girl,” carried a similar aura with a dash of humor and good fashion sense.

Then there was James Dean, the bad boy who always had his hair perfectly styled with pomade to pair with his bulky red leather jacket. What I would give to have held hands with someone as manly and handsome as James Dean.

We may even blast forward into the 1980s, when “The Outsiders” came around and girls would be swooned by the Greasers in the movie played by the most swoon-worthy actors.

One day they could go out to the roller skating rink after school to meet up with all their friends to talk about their days. Afterward, they would all go to a diner to eat some burgers and blast some music on the jukebox to dance to after finishing dessert.

The dances at schools were probably all the rage too. At a sock hop, it would be so easy to boogie down to the solid tunes that the DJ would be playing on the turntable.

The circle dresses of all the gals would be twirling around their calves as their fellas would be dancing alongside them to upbeat swing songs like “In The Mood” by Glenn Miller or “Sing, Sing, Sing” by Benny Goodman.

If school dances were actually still like this, maybe I actually would have attended one in high school. Then again, the guys in high school now are much more immature than those from decades past.

Even with all the technological advances we have now, it’s not uncommon for a child to wail, “I’m bored!” while surrounded by the latest gadgets. People back then never had much, but they knew how to have a good time.

If I were ever able to get ahold of Arwin’s time machine and be transported into a time of jammin’ music, fashion and culture, I don’t think I would want to come back!

Samar Ayoub is a second-year student in pre-med concentration.

Schnipke: Keeping my sanity on Toledo’s roads

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As my favorite bachelor contestant, Corinne, said this season, “I’m a nice person. I’m not just saying that.” Every day I try to be the very best version of myself that I can. It doesn’t do well for me to get caught up in petty gossip or to be uninvolved with the world around me.

I hold the door for others, I pay it forward at Starbucks, I smile at those I pass and I point out parking spots to my fellow commuters. However, much like Corrine, sometimes my good intentions end up resulting in me being a terrible person.

The worst of the traits I possess is being an angry driver.

When I first got my driver’s license at the ripe age of 16, I was so excited. I was finally able to have the part-time job I so very much desired. I could drive to McDonald’s with my friends.

And until the rest of my friends got their own licenses, I was the designated driver on party nights.

I was, and still am, such a ‘mom’ driver. Seat belts go on as soon as your butt touches the seat. The passenger reads my texts for me and controls the radio. Hands, feet and body appendages stay in the car at all times. No shenanigans go down while I’m driving.

55 mph is the typical speed limit back home. I never crossed it, except for that one time when I wanted to see how fast my car could actually go (it topped out at 120, if you were curious). But other than that, I was such a goody-two-shoes while driving.

But, since moving to Toledo, my driving style has completely changed. I’m a confrontational driver. My mom doesn’t even like being on speakerphone with me while I’m driving.

I curse, I swerve, I slam on my brakes. I follow the speed limit strictly. But that doesn’t stop other people from being awful drivers.

I never noticed it when I first started driving, but other drivers can be really horrible. Normal drivers start to slow down when the light turns yellow; Toledo drivers tend to slam on the gas and book it through the light.

The number of times I came so close to hitting someone’s bumper is far higher than I care to count. Many drivers pull out from a driveway and cross three lanes of traffic with no cares in the world. They slow down for no particular reason and then speed back up again.

Meanwhile, I’m just minding my own business, trying to stay alive on my daily commute to campus.

In my hometown, I could count on one hand how many times I actually used my horn besides honking to say ‘hi’ to the neighbors. Now, I probably lay on the horn three times per day.

Those cars that swerve in and out of traffic, only to slow down and turn right in front of me. Honk. Someone drives partially in my lane on the skinny part of Secor. Honk. The light turns green and the person in front of me is texting. Honk.

My biggest pet peeve is the lack of turn signals. People slow down or even stop in the middle of the road and I’m stuck wondering why I’m waiting behind you when I could be moving.

No turn signals when you’re changing lanes. No turn signals when you’re turning right at the stop sign. Bad driving habits. Use your turn signals: They are there for a reason.

I don’t like being the type of driver that I am, but I believe that it is unavoidable in the city I live in. If I didn’t evolve to become an aggressive driver, my car would have long ago gone to the junkyard in the sky.

Driving gets me where I want to go, but, sometimes, I think walking might be safer. I’d rather die instantly.

Emily Schnipke is the IC’s managing editor. She is a third-year communication student with a minor in English.

Nieszczur: Becoming a stronger woman

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Life as you know it: Gone. Vanished. Changed. The girl with every second of her life planned out is now sitting with a blank slate facing her.  It is an ominous, vulnerable and terrifying feeling.  How can she trust again? How can she pick herself up? Who will be there for her? Who will understand?

These are all the thoughts that have been haunting my mind for the past few months.

Life suddenly changed and stopped me in my tracks.  No longer did I have my perfectly planned out life sitting in front of me.  Instead, I was faced with uncertainty, doubt and guilt.

First, it was disbelief.  I refused to accept my situation.  I convinced myself that it wasn’t real, that it was a phase and that it too would pass. Then it hit me like a brick in the face. The reality of my situation set in.

I was alone for the first time since I was 14. What would my life be like without a significant other?  Who even was I without him?  How would anyone view me without being attached to him?  Who was I even, really?  I was devastated and depressed.

I am the eternal optimist, but I found myself loathing and wallowing in my situation.  I tried to avoid help from those who cared.  I shut myself out from situations that would involve me giving explanations.  In all honesty, it was the darkest time of my life.

Thankfully, in my case, I found acceptance.  I know that it is all too easy to get stuck in the rut of disbelief and depression.  However, I came out a stronger woman.  I picked myself up, brushed myself off and decided that I would choose happiness. I wouldn’t have any regrets, and I wouldn’t cover myself in hatred anymore.

Life is all about living and learning, picking yourself up and making for better days. I moved on because I had to and because it was what the all-too-long hushed strong woman inside of me was yelling at me to do.

I decided I would no longer let this unfortunate life event determine my mental state. Through this experience, I found a whole new degree of self-love that I had never previously experienced.

I saw myself as a strong, independent woman who knew her own worth.  I didn’t feel the need for attention or sympathy.  I found myself and focused on her for the first time in much too long.

They often say that it takes a difficult situation like mine to truly make you appreciate the support system that has been around you the whole time. This was true for me.  People stepped up when they needed to.  My friends and family checked in to make sure I was doing well.  I was offered places to stay and was given plenty of comfort, food and girls’ nights. My relationships with those around me grew stronger, and I grew more thankful for those who took the time to care about me.

The unsure road ahead no longer seemed as ominous.  Rather, it looked like a clean slate: It is a time to live, experiment, have fun and fall more in love with myself.

For the past six years, I had only known myself as a package deal with my significant other. I had never given myself the chance to truly get to know me and embrace who I was really meant to be.  Today, however, I am loving who I am. My self-confidence, which was eternally low, has found a new reason to rise. No longer did my happiness depend on the opinions of others; I found it within myself and in my own strength.

I became my own hero, and I sought endlessly to better develop myself.  It was truly refreshing to not know what the next day, month, year or several years looked like. I put my situation in God’s hands and trusted that he would take care of me — and he has.

I’m using my painful experience to encourage you that life cannot always be planned and may not always turn out the way we expect. You truly cannot “put all your eggs in one basket” and know what your future will look like five years down the line.  Life happens, and we must be willing to adjust to the changing times.

Live in the moment, and don’t let your happiness be tied to anyone but yourself because you are stronger than the battles that are before you.  You will come out of the hardest situations stronger than you ever imagined.  See the beauty in the chances of a fresh start.

Love yourself and embrace the strong woman within you, for she is in every one of us, just waiting to be discovered.

Alexis Nieszczur is a third-year PharmD student in the College of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences.

Joslin: Bowling IS a sport — trust me

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I get the same look when I tell strangers that I bowl collegiately — a cocked eyebrow and a face full of disbelief.

And then they start to explain why they’re so surprised.

Normally, it starts with trivial comments like “anyone can bowl.” Or “all that you do is throw a ball at pins; it’s not even hard.” It doesn’t take long before they harshly conclude that “bowling isn’t a sport.”

Having played soccer, basketball and softball growing up, I can definitely say that bowling is the hardest sport I’ve ever played. It is so much more than just throwing a ball at pins.

First and foremost, you can’t see the one thing that’s going to influence the game the most—the shot-glass worth of oil spread across the lane.

More oil in one spot can cause a ball to slide, not hooking at all. But less oil in one spot can cause a ball to find friction and hook. You may think that’s simple enough, right?

Not so fast. If you were looking at the oil on a lane as a topographical map, a difficult pattern would be a similar landscape to a craggy steppe, and an easy pattern would resemble a gentle hill. The only way to tell the difference is to watch how your ball moves.

To make things worse, this invisible opponent changes with every throw of the ball. Oil can be carried farther down-lane by your ball, pushed inside, outside or even burned up entirely. No two lanes are going to play the same way, even if they were originally the same pattern. Paying attention to these transitions and minor differences is key to high scores.

The next difficult thing about bowling is ball selection. You may think that all bowling balls are the same, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

If you want to move past bumpers and glow bowling, then you must abandon the desire to choose your ball based on appearance. Gone are the days of six-pound neon colored balls that glow under black lights.

Instead, say hello to differences in ball materials, core materials, core shapes, coverstocks and differentials.

Say hello to heavier weights and personalized drilling. Say hello to having multiple balls that all do different things. Also say goodbye to your paycheck because all bowling balls run anywhere from $100 to $250 each — not including that customized drilling.

Over the course of a tournament, you will be faced with moments when you could make a switch in balls and drastically change the game. However, there are no field guides to when to make these transitions. Instead, you have to rely on watching ball movement and knowing how the rest of your equipment might compare.

But even with all that, the most difficult part of bowling is entirely in your head.

You have to trust yourself to consistently make well-executed shots. Missing your target by an inch can lead to a nasty split or a dizzying washout. A deceleration in arm speed can lead to a completely different ball reaction. Not bending your knee at the line can lead to an opposite reaction. The list goes on.

You have to fight past bad breaks and errors in judgment and move on to the next frame. You may throw what you think is a perfect ball, but leave a 9 pin. Or worse yet, a pocket 7-10 split. It happens. But the game goes on.

You have to take your time to analyze your shots but at the same time avoid overthinking your way into a mistake. A missed spare one frame can lead to a string of missed spares if you over-adjust. A missed lane adjustment can leave you tens of pins behind the competition.

Now imagine combining all of those things while spending 12 hours straight on your feet with no breaks for meals — only the occasional snack here and there. Then imagine having to repeat that process over again the next day with little sleep. Complete physical and mental exhaustion are the result, yet you must push forward.

In times like those I wish it were as simple as just throwing a ball at some pins.

If you don’t want to consider bowling a sport, that’s fine. Keep your neon balls and rented shoes. I’ll continue to think that it is a sport, even without your approval.

Savannah Joslin is a fourth-year communication student with a focus on public relations.

 

Thomas: Taming my natural, curly hair

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Black History Month is over, but the struggles of the black girl continue daily. A central part of this struggle is what black girls do to keep our natural hair straight and acceptable to the public.

For many girls like me, it would not be exaggeration to say that I hated my hair. It was thick, unruly and natural.

I hated Sundays when my mother would divide my hair and comb it, and this feeling only got worse as I grew. She’d angrily rake through my hair for hours just to remove the kinks.

She knew that keeping my hair straight was important for me to conform to the ‘norm’ and to be considered ‘acceptable.’ The public loathed the natural, curly, black hair, and we had to make them happy.

My mom would use the ‘creamy crack’ relaxers to tame my hair. Without that, the semblance of straightness we got after long hours of combing would barely see Tuesday, especially in a humid temperature.

Forget that this relaxer may have some dangerous chemicals like alkali and ammonium thioglycolate—the lengths black girls go to be accepted!

I’d watch TV and idolize those who had straight hair as my mother combed vigorously. As much as I hated the Sunday routine, I still wanted to be like the people I saw on TV.

I played with my Barbies, admired their silky straight hair and wondered why I didn’t have the same.

As time went by, my mother had to put in more hours at her factory job. That naturally took away our Sunday routines, and my hair got little attention.

As a compromise, she took me to the salon to get a relaxer. And if you don’t know already, relaxing your hair is different from the simple process of washing it.

A relaxed hair is no longer natural—you have to grow it again if you want that naturalness. I was only in third grade, but I fully understood the implication of that decision.

My first relaxer was a distinct experience, one I’ll never forget. My mom warned me against scratching my scalp because the relaxer would burn it. I did not listen. The beautician sat me near the washing bowls, then layered the relaxer on my hair like a cake decorator would dollop frosting on a cake.

I had to wait for about 15 minutes, but by five minutes into the process my scalp began to burn. The smell was pungent. I ran to the beautician, who immediately started rinsing the relaxer out of my hair. I felt the water from the nozzle in my hair almost as hard as the tears coming down my face.

She gingerly blow-dried and styled my hair. At the end, my new hair was as long as anything I had never seen before.

The pain from that first process made it hard for me to have another relaxer until fifth grade. This time, too, I experienced a lot of pain. By seventh grade, I started wearing braids.

But my hair remained relaxed—unnatural—and I could remove the protective style and straighten it without complications.

By high school, I knew I needed a new look. Yet I also knew I’d never use relaxers again.

The braids were getting played out, so I started installing sew-in weaves. This is a type of hair extension where wefted hair is sewn onto small, tightly woven braids.

I bought a new weave from the hair store every few months for this process. Typically, I maintained the same center part with straight hair that ranged anywhere between 14 and 24 inches.

Each time my stepmom did my hair and ensured that my sew-ins revolved like clockwork. So I never had a weave that looked like it was struggling to maintain life.

I wore my straight weave until my sophomore year of college. By that time, I  had graduated from buying weaves from the hair store to buying bundles from online vendors. Which cost a lot of money.

Eventually, maintaining the sew-in became too expensive, so I decided to take a break. My leave out was extremely heat damaged. That section remained straight while the rest of my hair reverted to curls.

These struggles with my hair and with keeping up appearances have cost me significantly. But I’m excited about my ability to accept my hair the way it is.

I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t intimidate me sometimes, yet I feel more comfortable with my natural hair. And though I still have a semi-straight section in the front, I love my curls. I realize that it’s a distinct characteristic of being African-American.

I slick my edges up with my dynamic duo water and Eco styler gel. I found that the less heat I put in my hair, the more my hair began to grow and flourish. The feeling was like falling in love.

It’s inspiring to hear prominent black women in our area talking about wearing their natural hairs. The support of the campus black community also makes it easier for us to accept and wear our curly, natural hairs.

Today, I honestly stopped caring about what other people would think of my curls or about what society considers the ‘norm.’ How could I truly love myself if I can’t accept everything that I came with?

My hair, of course, is like the mane of a lion. It has a texture similar to curly ribbon and is as bold as the afros of the 70s. My hair is thick, unruly and natural, and I love it. I make no apologies for it. Now that’s a Black History Month story for you.

Amber Thomas is a fourth-year marketing and professional sales student.

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