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November 18, 2013 • A POSITIVE PRESS PUBLICATION • VOL. 4, ISSUE 6
“You’re listening to Radiolab, from WNYC”
by third year Chelsea Harvey
Since being introduced to the NPR podcast “Radiolab” on a camping trip almost two years ago, I have worshiped hosts Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich. Weaving narratives of hope, triumph, and curiosity, their WNYC public radio program connects unique narratives of science and discovery to relatable human themes.
While they are sometimes bizarre, Radiolab’s stories are stirring, emotional, and easy to contrast and compare to my own experiences. In “Space,” Ann Druyan describes the somewhat romantic process of selecting sounds and images for the Voyager Golden Record launched in 1977, paralleled by her experience of falling in love with American astronomer and colleague Carl Sagan. In “The Good Show,” a scientist sets out to disprove the evolutionary usefulness of altruism. He abandons his family and lifestyle to exhibit radical selflessness, giving all things, money, and efforts to the homeless of early twentieth-century London. In “Desperately Seeking Symmetry,” a computer programmer discovers that the style of your hair-part can determine your acceptance by society and sends President Jimmy Carter a letter urging him to change his hair-part and thus his polling rate. The President listened. These stories are important to me. They have both begun and ended days, gotten me through workouts and breakups, and ultimately become woven into the prolonged routine that has become my life. When I learned that Jad, Robert, and the rest of the Radiolab team were packing up their recording equipment and hitting the road to perform live shows in major cities across the country, I knew it was something I could not miss. I walked into the Cobb Energy Center the night of the performance, heart pounding, palms sweaty, prepared for something truly memorable. I didn’t walk away disappointed. |
When the show began, we in the Atlanta audience were almost all strangers. Yet, as Jad and Robert’s narratives unfolded, we fell in sync: laughing, crying, and audibly expressing feelings we were silently and internally connecting to our own personal histories. Everyone in that room came with their own bracket of experiences: childhood memories, loves found and lost, academic or professional achievements, moments of shame or grief. Maybe the man beside me wrung his hands when Jad began telling the story of an actor with Parkinson’s because his father had carried the disease. Or the woman one row behind me laughed when the puppet representing our first ancestor appeared, because she had studied anthropology in college and felt a surge in her heart for a subject she so missed. And the little boy in the row ahead of me who had fallen asleep on his mother’s thigh sat up when the dinosaur puppet roared because he hadn’t yet learned in science class that they’d become extinct.
I bear the weight of a lifetime of memories that are mine alone, yet that night I joined a group of strangers compelled by the same stories. But isn’t that the beauty of storytelling, and of life? We are all just people sitting in the same room, sharing our stories and listening to find the people who want to be a part of whatever happens next. |
From One Student to the Next
by second year Jessie Blaeser
During the past four UGA home football games, I have added a new step to my pre-game routine. In the past, I have gotten up early, picked out the appropriate red and black outfit, jammed out to pump-up music, taken pictures outside of my house, and headed down to Sanford Stadium anywhere from one to two and half hours before kickoff to secure prime student section seats. This season, however, there is a moment before the rush of getting to the game when I pause to pin something on my dress: a gold Uga pin that was once my grandmother’s. Every time I clasp the Bulldog into place, I am reminded of the immense tradition that our university holds, and how happy I am to carry them on during my time at UGA.
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Chartered in 1785, UGA remains one of the oldest universities in the nation, and it is easy to forget the history that UGA has endured in the midst of the hustle of a 30,000 student campus. Still, there are remnants of those who came before us. Students continue to make their way around The Arch—so much so that the steps beside it are more worn down than the steps underneath it—to avoid the unfathomable consequences of not graduating on time. We continue to ring The Chapel Bell to celebrate victories of our own as well as victories for our school. We still jump in Herty Fountain in celebration and we still participate in Phi Kappa and Demosthenian Literary Societies, two of UGA’s first student organizations. We still cheer on the Dawgs between the Hedges, and we still sing “glory glory to ole’ Georgia” until our voices vanish. We fall into these habits because those before us did, but it is easy to forget that these traditions go back way before the time of our most recent predecessors.
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Both of my grandparents attended UGA in the 1940s, and thinking about their experiences here reminds me of the evolution and long-lasting abilities of Georgia’s traditions. Passing down these important moments in UGA life to the incoming classes of students is an honor and something to enjoy. I remind myself that these moments are not just routines—they are traditions. Each time I place my grandmother’s pin on my outfit, I am shown a remnant of the past. Something that was once important for one UGA student is now important to another, just as the traditions that remain on our campus were once created, practiced, and passed on by students that have ultimately lead to us. It is now our responsibility to show the future students of our university these same traditions, and maybe even create a few of our own.
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Refuel Your Soul
by fourth year Kelsey Schmidt
Most of my babysitters preferred improvisation games to movies. My favorite dance parties with my mom were after her phone calls with the “big guys.” Many school nights were spent in dressing rooms, eyeing the vast number of eye shadow colors before curling up within some old costumes.
Growing up with a mom who is an actor has been one of the most rewarding experiences imaginable. Expressing our emotions was always valued, and we were taught to work through each hardship and never back out of a commitment, for the show must always go on. My mother shared the same silliness, humility and love with each audience member she met, therefore teaching my sister and I to value everyone around us. |
Most importantly, I discovered the pure beauty of the arts. Paintings can combine thousands of simple strokes to capture emotion and thoughts. Dance captures a range of humanity through movement, freeing the soul to express where words are not needed. Theater shows the world that you are not alone in the trials of life and can portray this comfort through laughs, tears and captivating words. Though these are but a few of a vast array of art forms, they all can give the same comfort. Art provides both the artist and the viewer an opportunity to escape from the burdens of reality and dive into a refreshing of the soul. It gives you an opportunity to look at the world in a different light and leave the experience changed.
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Granted, some pieces of art are not going to completely rock your world. Shakespeare may move you to sleep where it moves me to tears, but that is another layer to the beauty of art. It is individual. You will discover something unique in each poem, song, film or pas de deux that cannot be replicated exactly in the minds of others. However, your experience can let you look at life, others and yourself in a different manner. It can take you out of daily troubles and allow you to feel the emotions of another before returning to the world a changed person. Finding time to explore a museum or listen to poetry may be difficult, but I can promise you one thing: you will be glad you did. The arts can refuel you, help you and motivate you. My mother’s career and my creative upbringing gave me an artistic life– if you take a moment to read or dance or sing, I’m sure you can find that too.
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Open to Interpretation
by second year Alexsis Skeen
There was a faint quiver in my lips as a small smirk began to form. I had struck gold. The words were flying off my fingers. My hands traveled back and forth across the keyboard, like the eyes of tennis fans observing a match. I was lost in a world of letters all my own. Somehow I find joy in knowing I created something new, something no one could ever replicate. I had crafted a sequence of letters to make a sequence of words that created a string of sentences. It was everything I had wanted it to be.
I often get these bursts of excitement when I write. There’s an epiphany moment when I know I got it right. By changing one sentence I somehow completely change the entire meaning of my writing. While there are only 26 letters I can use, I always find a way to write something different. The slightest rearrangement of letters can send the entire piece into an alternate universe, spiraling into a new unknown.
The same is true for numbers. The difference in 10 and 100 is staggering, yet it is merely a change of one digit. Numbers hold power in our lives, but they are merely a relative measure to help humans somehow make sense of the world around us. The same idea can be applied to writing. How could writing letters on a page, something that is so subjective and intangible, create a burning fire inside of me? Something that holds no real concrete or monetary value can still weigh just as heavily in my eyes.
Maybe writing’s inherent ambiguity is exactly the reason I love it so much. In every other sector of my life, I play by the rules. But with my writing, well that’s the one thing I don’t mind leaving open to interpretation. Writing is about experimenting, taking risks, and making changes. While a slight change in a letter or number can result in a drastic change in meaning, the writer is in control of those changes. Words and numbers are the essentials; they mark a point of reference, but hold little meaning on their own. Power lies within my creativity. The words on the page are the colors used to create my masterpiece.
I often get these bursts of excitement when I write. There’s an epiphany moment when I know I got it right. By changing one sentence I somehow completely change the entire meaning of my writing. While there are only 26 letters I can use, I always find a way to write something different. The slightest rearrangement of letters can send the entire piece into an alternate universe, spiraling into a new unknown.
The same is true for numbers. The difference in 10 and 100 is staggering, yet it is merely a change of one digit. Numbers hold power in our lives, but they are merely a relative measure to help humans somehow make sense of the world around us. The same idea can be applied to writing. How could writing letters on a page, something that is so subjective and intangible, create a burning fire inside of me? Something that holds no real concrete or monetary value can still weigh just as heavily in my eyes.
Maybe writing’s inherent ambiguity is exactly the reason I love it so much. In every other sector of my life, I play by the rules. But with my writing, well that’s the one thing I don’t mind leaving open to interpretation. Writing is about experimenting, taking risks, and making changes. While a slight change in a letter or number can result in a drastic change in meaning, the writer is in control of those changes. Words and numbers are the essentials; they mark a point of reference, but hold little meaning on their own. Power lies within my creativity. The words on the page are the colors used to create my masterpiece.
I Don't Know About You, But I'm Feeling Twenty-something
by third year Kristen Lemaster
"Everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we're 22!" Taylor Swift gave us the best possible motto for a Friday night out of control and the worst possible motto for a future under your control. Why is that? Aren't your twenty-something years a time for dressing up like hipsters, eating breakfast at midnight, and forgetting about the heartbreaks? Yes, they are. And they are better, because more than any other period in your life, they are absolutely yours.
As Meg Jay explains in her book The Defining Decade, you define those twenty-something years, and those twenty-something years define you. This metamorphic, transformative, volatile time is so powerful because it makes meaning for the years that follow– including that terrifying milestone of 30 years old. After all, you can't wake up on the morning of your 30th birthday with your dream job if you slept through summer work shifts during your underemployed "Starbucks phase," to use Jay's terminology. You can't find yourself surrounded by a diverse, supportive, encouraging friend group if you've stuck to the same people who are hardly any different from yourself. Most importantly, you can't be the person you want to be later in life if you aren't actively trying to be that person right now. |
Jay's book talks about how to do exactly that: make your twenties a period not only of crazy fun and great stories but also self-actualization. With chapter titles such as "My Life Should Look Better on Facebook" and "Being in Like," Jay tells the truth about being twenty-something through anecdotes, science, and real life experience from her work as a clinical psychologist. In her popular TED Talk on "Why 30 Is Not The New 20," Jay reveals that "80% of life’s most defining moments take place before age 35." In other words, these years matter; now is the time to explore other career options, fall hard for someone and try to make it work, decide what is important to you and forget about what you think your twenties and thirties should be like.
And when you're feeling 22, remember that what you're really feeling is the power, freedom, and authority to live your own life. It's time. |
Diving into Action
by second year Anjalie Subramanian
I recently watched the documentary Blackfish directed by Gabriela Cowperthwaite. The film revolves around tragic injuries and deaths caused by orca whales in captivity and ties the behavior to the mistreatment of animals plucked out of their natural habitat and forced into damaging environments for human entertainment.
Blackfish was captivating. I found myself moved to tears by the intense scenes. The graphic depictions and voices of the orca trainers floated through my mind. But the question that wrapped my lingering thoughts like a thin gauze was “What now?” How would this film change me? Would this film change me? In former SeaWorld trainer John Jett’s interview, he stated that he would not take his daughter to SeaWorld because he didn’t want her thinking “that's how we treat the kin that we find ourselves around on this planet.” Would I make that kind of pledge? |
I spent a day emotionally altered by Blackfish. But as soon as my daily tasks resumed, I swept it aside and dove back into the thoughts and actions of a pre-Blackfish me. This is a pattern that many of us follow. We read, watch, hear about, or witness something that is striking, something that turns our world upside-down. But soon we’ve forgotten about it completely, too consumed in our own way of life to be truly changed.
One might think that with the magnitude of information available, that each of us would be making informed and deliberate choices about our lives. However, many of us have been desensitized by the influx of shocking news, and while we do care, we don’t care enough. |
To be clear, I don’t think that every thought-provoking article needs to incite a major life change, but are we prepared to change when it is necessary? We may claim to care about the environment, the food we eat, the stereotypes that we perpetuate, but unless we are willing to make personal changes the world will remain as it is. It’s time to gather the conviction that change is not only necessary, but also possible. While your individual actions may only feel like a single drop in the sea, if you don’t start, who will? If you want to save the environment, pick up trash that you see on the ground, save water, and recycle. If you care about hunger and poverty, donate your time or money. Simple or grand, your actions are part of a revolution. The worst thing we can do is to become immune to the things worth giving a damn about. Today could be the day– start acting!
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The Splendor of November
by third year Kent Strickland
Spending time on the lake and going to baseball games is almost a distant memory now. The days of leisure time after a summer job are gone and it’s easy to get bogged down in stress in the wake of those fun times. We must remember our pillars: Wisdom, Justice, Moderation. Maintaining our pillars is crucial to escape intact. Professors who missed a class and got behind in lecture are in their 4th Quarter hurry-up, Todd Gurley-esque march down the field to reach the end of their material.
As we find ourselves in the midst of yet another round of tests, it’s easy to let the stress allow life to creep by, but we have to take advantage of our few moments to unwind. Sneaking in pleasure time can be as simple as squeezing in a game of ping-pong between study sessions or as grandiose as Georgia/Florida. So go grab that pumpkin spice latte or your favorite cider. Make that coffee date that you’ve been putting off. Try to catch the leaves for good luck. We’re here to make friends and memories in conjunction with graduating from this esteemed university. You don’t have to let stress prevent that. Fall semester is the time that we remember. This is the time for Thanksgiving and cuddling. Don’t let it pass you by.
As we find ourselves in the midst of yet another round of tests, it’s easy to let the stress allow life to creep by, but we have to take advantage of our few moments to unwind. Sneaking in pleasure time can be as simple as squeezing in a game of ping-pong between study sessions or as grandiose as Georgia/Florida. So go grab that pumpkin spice latte or your favorite cider. Make that coffee date that you’ve been putting off. Try to catch the leaves for good luck. We’re here to make friends and memories in conjunction with graduating from this esteemed university. You don’t have to let stress prevent that. Fall semester is the time that we remember. This is the time for Thanksgiving and cuddling. Don’t let it pass you by.
Greener Isn’t Always Better
by third year Cecilia Moore
There was a post that popped up on my newsfeed last week that made me pause: “I find it ironic that the grass outside of the School of Environmental Design is dead.” When I first read this my initial reaction was, “actually, facebook friend who shall remain nameless, I don’t find that ironic.” First: the grass isn’t dead, it’s dormant, which is its natural state during the winter. Second: no one, including the professors from the School of Environmental Design, are capable of changing grass’ fundamental responses to environmental stressors.
I know that many Facebook statuses are meant in jest and are written without a second thought, so I didn’t post a response. However, it did lead me to sit back and think, why? Why did my friend write this and why did so many people “like” it?
I think the answers to these questions are related to our perceived place in the world’s power hierarchy as people. Undoubtedly, we are a species to be reckoned with, but that doesn’t mean that we should try to alter the normal life cycles of the plants and animals around us or that we should expect to be able to. We can’t naturally keep grass green all year, and that’s okay.
Ultimately, we are held to this Earth by the gravity that keeps everything else rooted to it– we are part of a cohesive system. We can leave footprints and cities behind and can even alter the climate that governs it, but grasses, like us and all other plants and living organisms, follow mother nature’s rules. This is an entity that supersedes humanity’s will and aesthetic preferences, and we must accept this. The study of Environmental Design respects other living organisms and plants around them, and so should we.
I know that many Facebook statuses are meant in jest and are written without a second thought, so I didn’t post a response. However, it did lead me to sit back and think, why? Why did my friend write this and why did so many people “like” it?
I think the answers to these questions are related to our perceived place in the world’s power hierarchy as people. Undoubtedly, we are a species to be reckoned with, but that doesn’t mean that we should try to alter the normal life cycles of the plants and animals around us or that we should expect to be able to. We can’t naturally keep grass green all year, and that’s okay.
Ultimately, we are held to this Earth by the gravity that keeps everything else rooted to it– we are part of a cohesive system. We can leave footprints and cities behind and can even alter the climate that governs it, but grasses, like us and all other plants and living organisms, follow mother nature’s rules. This is an entity that supersedes humanity’s will and aesthetic preferences, and we must accept this. The study of Environmental Design respects other living organisms and plants around them, and so should we.