“You need to do some meditation and realize you have to let people care for you,” one of my housemates texted me recently. I dismissed it. See, I thought I had checked off personal growth on my to-do list months ago.
It’s almost here. In a week, I’ll say goodbye to some of the greatest friends I’ll ever know. I won’t be a student at Miami University anymore. But it hasn’t hit me yet. I really figured I’d be smacked upside the head with a wave of extreme sadness and nostalgic longing by now. But nope, nothing.
This column is pulled from a conversation with two of our reporters who discussed their experiences growing up as gay men. Tim Carlin: So, where do you want to start with this? David Kwiatkowski: I think we should start where you said. Tim: Okay, do you want to go first? David: … No. Tim: Okay, so I came out in waves. I first came out to my friends when I was in sixth grade. By the time I got to high school, everyone just kind of knew. Throughout high school, it just became more known. I never hid it from anyone.
At the beginning of each new school year, I buy folders for a dollar, select reasonably-priced pens and pencils and purchase notebooks while they’re on sale. I hardly pay attention while stuffing these items into my backpack; whether or not they rip or tear is their own business. Each year, I also allow myself one beautiful purchase, and this year’s was a Kate Spade agenda.
It is said that there are three topics of conversation people should always avoid discussing: money, religion and, perhaps the most controversial of all, politics. And yet, those topics always seem to come up. With Thanksgiving fast approaching and Election Day fresh on the minds of Americans, many families dread the political discussions and fights with extended family that come with the holidays. I have seen my friends, extended family, teachers and even strangers openly debate each other on the state of the country. I hold no doubts about the potential negative strains political disagreement can have on a relationship. I see this strain between two of the most influential people in my life — my parents.
Throughout history (alternatively, since 1998), I’ve had a long-running record of moments where I’ve made fun of people who read too much into astrology. It’s really easy to quip about, so I often do — I even wrote a shambly, one-act play with a joke character dedicated to garnering laughs about those who turn to the constellations for guidance. But then something funny happened. I downloaded Co–Star onto my phone over the summer, and I give it validity more often than I’d like to admit. Am I now the person searching for guidance down any avenue possible? It’s possible.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve struggled to accept my body. I remember being no older than 11 and begging my mom not to make me go into the Macy’s dressing room. I hated playing with Barbies. I envied the girls who could fit into Abercrombie and Fitch and Lululemon. I went to an affluent private school in a conservative area, one that emphasized perfection in all aspects, including personal appearance. As an overweight theatre kid, I felt I didn’t make the cut.
I distinctly remember the first Saturday night of my sophomore year. I was laying on the floor of my dorm room as the noise from raucous groups of kids walking Uptown toward whatever the night held seeped in through the open windows. I called my dad, tears rolling down my face. “This is going to be the same as last year,” I rushed to say as soon as he picked up. “I’m miserable.” After a first year filled with solo Netflix nights and enough studying to carry me through the rest of undergrad, I was terrified that the fact I didn’t have plans or friends to hang out with the first weekend back meant I was in for another lonely year.
You may have seen a headline on your social media feed, or even from a news outlet, about a famous celebrity caught in a scandal and subsequently being “canceled.” In 2018, comedian Kevin Hart stepped down from hosting the Oscars after homophobic tweets he wrote several years ago were brought to the public’s attention. The media firestorm that followed often referred to Hart as being “canceled.” Just this month, actress Gina Rodriguez was seen in an Instagram video singing a racial slur. Rodriguez, who has previously been accused of racist comments against the black community, was swiftly condemned from the entertainment community and fans alike.
I’m a pretty sentimental person, and behind that sentimentality resides an appreciation for tradition and a dislike for goodbyes. My traditional nature reveals itself in my predictable restaurant orders, my go-to Starbucks drink and my annual Christmas playlist. Some might call it boring, but I find comfort in familiarity and don’t apologize for refusing to stray from my usual. My dislike for goodbyes affects me most, as you might guess, at the end of things. The end of a summer job, the end of the school year and the end of a holiday season all carry with it a mix of sadness and anxiety.
Light shines through the stained glass windows and kisses the walls of the St.Vincent de Paul Church in Petaluma, CA. Like luminous lip gloss, it sticks and glistens in adoration. I sat among the molasses brown pews last weekend for the first time since my high school days, when mandatory mass sometimes started the day. Being a non-Catholic in a Catholic high school was an experience that taught me how to skillfully avoid things that made me uncomfortable. Walking through the halls on the first day of freshman year feels awkward enough, but having to walk down the red-carpeted aisle of the church with my arms crossed over my chest to be given a blessing rather than communion in a room full of religious peers — yikes.
Earlier this month, 18 former members of Miami University’s Delta Tau Delta (Delts) fraternity were charged on hazing and assault charges. The charges came after an anonymous first-year new member was bludgeoned on his buttocks with a spiked paddle, forced to drink alcohol, smoke weed and was subjected to additional physical abuse during a Big/Little Reveal event last spring. After the men were charged, reporters from The Miami Student reached out to members of Miami’s administration, leaders of Miami Greek Life, representatives from Delta Tau Delta’s national headquarters and the 18 individuals who were charged asking them all to comment and share their side of the story. A few individuals gave vague and brief responses, some said they could not comment on the matter but most did not respond to our reporters at all.
On a rainy August morning, the arrival of my senior year brought me a perpetually-ticking internal clock counting down the minutes until I graduate from Miami. It’s like a New Year’s Eve countdown in slow motion, except I’m the only one in Times Square, and I’m chained to a lamppost and waiting for the ball to drop. And when it drops, there’s a strong likelihood that it’s going to drop on me.
It’s a go-to question at everything from college orientation to the Thanksgiving dinner table. “What’s your major?” And, for the longest time, my answer was simple: “biochemistry and pre-med.”
We should believe Ramirez. We should believe Ford and remember how brave she was to testify against Kavanaugh. We should take both claims seriously.
When diversity of thought exists, positive outcomes and obstacles arise. When a situation turns sour, a variety of beliefs and opinions can clash, leading to an argument, protests or even violence.
The following reflects the majority opinion of the editorial board.
The Cobblestone Community Church filled with wise words as lead pastor Andrew Holzworth spread the word of Christ like butter across the warm, crisp morning air of the church at 10:45 a.m. on Sunday, Sept. 15.
The following reflects the majority opinion of the editorial board.
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