The first semester away at college is tough.
One of the first cooking duties entrusted to me was preparing the crescent rolls. It's a simple task, but a satisfying one -- hearing that punctuated "pop!" as the cardboard tube opens, methodically rolling each triangle of dough from base to point and, in less time than it takes to set the table, opening the oven to find a baking sheet full of fluffy, golden half-moons.
Last Thursday, roughly 30 students, faculty members and university employees dotted the seats of Kreger 319, a spacious lecture hall. They'd gathered for a Graduate Students of All Nations event, a Mindfulness Week session led by Miami grad student Ancilleno Davis in which international students and faculty were invited to share stories of their experiences at Miami. Apart from Leno himself, very few international students were in the crowd.
If you tuned into the Emmys last night to escape the political hellscape currently dominating social media and the news, tough luck. The most talked-about moment at the 69th Primetime Emmy Awards wasn't Donald Glover's or "The Handmaid's Tale's" historical wins but Sean Spicer, who made a surprise appearance during host Stephen Colbert's monologue.
Uptown Park bustled with students, alumni and Oxford families as the Homecoming Huddle began. This new evolution of the traditional Homecoming Parade appeared to be a success among Miami fans.
It's 5:30 a.m. and Selena Pickett's alarm has just gone off. She rolls out of bed. Drowsily, she gets ready for the day -- making her bed, getting dressed and fixing breakfast in her chilly dorm room. But she has one morning routine that many others don't: she practices piano.
A new movie theater has been installed in the basement of Miami's Center for Performing Arts. But they aren't showing movies here. Instead, they are rehearsing for "The Flick," the Theatre Department's first play this season, which opens next week in Studio 88.
Officer Matt Hardin instructs me to wait in the building while he gets Roscoe out of his police cruiser. It's easy to spot which one is his because the license plate reads "K-9." The 90-pound German Shepard bounds out of the car and leaps at the door in excitement, looking happy as can be.
There was an air of uncertainty hanging over the bus stop as I arrived outside of Shriver. This was the site from which the Miami Mystery Tour Bus would depart, but the amassed people, myself included, didn't seem to know which of the various buses at the stop was ours.
I have a hard time explaining my love of "It" to people.
Something about the new restaurant in Armstrong seemed uncomfortably familiar. It serves sandwiches -- bagel sandwiches, to be exact. Bagels sliced in half and filled with an assortment of meats, eggs, veggies, cheese and sauces.
Rap and EDM. Those two things go together like peanut butter and spaghetti; I suppose you could convince me that it's a good combo, but only if you change one or the other until it's almost unrecognizable. Hip-hop and electronic music have always gone hand in hand, but you almost never see a full-fledged rap over a full-fledged, techno dance beat. Kanye West rapped over industrial beats on "Yeezus," but the result was more rage-fueled than danceable, and Drake has incorporated two-step and Afro-electro beats on the likes of "Passionfruit" and "One Dance," but he switches to his sing-song voice while doing it.
If the age-old concept that sadness has a physical presence, a sort of heaviness that weighs on your shoulders and could sonically manifest itself, the result would probably sound a lot like The National. Their songs seem bent on pressing down on you in the same way that pop music wants to lift you up; the piano and bass draw rich, long chords over you like a blanket, synthesizers and strings emit hauntingly mournful moans and lead singer Matt Berninger's signature baritone is the vocal equivalent of a defeated, weary sigh. Decidedly sorrowful since their 2001 debut, The National seems the rightful inheritor of that "Depressing Indie Rock Band" label that Coldplay has seemed so desperate to escape.
Certain artists manage to stay recognizable, if not relevant, as time passes. Everyone knows a Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston or Bee Gees tune, and some of them manage to fulfill the same purpose they had decades ago -- to get people on the dance floor. At the same time, generations of people can sing along to iconic choruses from the Beatles or big-hair bands like Journey and Bon Jovi. Those were popular bands that can be recognized as such now.
Photos by Tyler Gillette.
Not many high school freshmen go on brewery tours with their parents. Fewer still find their life's calling on one.