A p r i l 2 0 1 2 | N ew Beg i n n i n g s

The RCAHive: Why? 4 That First Step (Is, Notoriously, a Doozy) 10 Occurences in a Desert 11 Abby Tells It Like It Is 19

Our Mission: RCAHive strives to be an innovative student magazine that is entertaining, intellectually provocative, and visually engaging. We are conscious of the responsibility of writing and publishing, and we seek to create a dynamic magazine that is worthy of its readers. RCAHive seeks to bring RCAH to the world and bring the world into RCAH.

RCAHive | April 2012

RCAHive Staff

Editors in Chief Cooper Franks, Arielle LaBrecque News Toni Lee Ruggiano, Bridget Gonyeau, Sean Fitzpatrick Features Jonathan Evans, Libby Lussenhop, McKenna Keck The Arts Phoebe Richardson, Abbie Heath RCAH Life Becky Barron Entertainment Issac Berkowitz, David Ward, Ian Siporin Columnists Abby Schottenfels, Kaitlyn Fay, Abby Conklin, Anna Orsini Copy Editor Nicole DiMichele Layout Editor Samantha Novak Photography Hillary Higgins, Catie Bargerstock Graphic Design Samantha Novak Faculty Liaison Samuel Appel Other Contributions Drew Fisher, Melanie LaBerge Submissions: RCAHive wants to hear from you! We encourage submissions, writing and photo, from all members of the RCAH community. We reserve the right to edit submissions for length and clarity. The opinions expressed in the articles are those of the writers and not necessarily of RCAHive. For this reason, we do not accept anonymous submissions.

Music Not Money

The theme for the May issue is travel.

feature

The RCAHive: Why?

Cooper Franks
'Tis a new beginning. And since we've begun this beginning with a question, why not ask more? What defines a true beginning? Is it measured by time, like that monumental second between 2011 and 2012? Why is it that we need New Year's to begin? To alter the course of our actions, thoughts and outlook on life entirely. Why do we need to remind ourselves to self-analyze, appreciate and plot our ambitions? I believe that each day should be lived like New Year's. It's that pinnacle instant where you can stare at yourself in the mirror and travel back to where you were the year before. For me, I smell that salty ocean breeze and hear Portuguese intermixed with the explosions of fireworks. I feel the sand trickling in between my toes as I jump seven waves for luck. The colored roses I throw in the ocean sway with the current, as I stand on the shore, hoping they drift off to sea. A friend of mine knocks on the bathroom door. I transport back to Michigan. The warm sea transforms into a sink as I stare down at the water swirling into the drain, carrying my thoughts of the previous New Year with it. It disappears momentarily, but is never forgotten. For you, the traditional New Year's could be huddled up north with your loved ones, or perhaps each year you search for that party in your hometown hiding in someone's basement among your friends. But wherever you were, you reflect. You do it instinctively, it just takes the length of a breath to realize the significance. Inhale, exhale. You've grown. You've accomplished and you've failed. You've made mistakes and you've learned. You've lived. So the real question is, how can we treat each day like New Year's? How can we transform the daily routine to the adventurous finale of a year? Well, a year is simply a measure of time. And time is simply a measurement created by humans. We have the power to create, to inspire, to continually redefine ourselves each day. Instead of waiting till the New Year to make that resolution, why not now? The way I look at it is you should continuously reflect on past moments, celebrate the present and develop drive for the future! And with that philosophy has given birth to The RCAHive. It's not just a literary magazine where you submit your work to show off what you have learned, or another bullet point onto your rsum. It's a chance to conjure up something so that everyone may see the potential in humanity. I want it to be a magazine where you can nostalgically flip through the pages when you have wrinkles on your face. I want it to be a magazine where you can cheerfully gather the thoughts of this historic era and imprint it into time for eternity. I want it to continue to improve and embrace the change that it undergoes. I want it to essentially embody the essence of New Year's. So here is to the beginning of a beautiful thing. Happy who cares what year it is.

RCAHive: A Beginning and an Ending

Arielle LaBrecque
When I think back to a year ago, I see myself shoving my belongings in suitcases. I see myself packing journals, books, and maps. I see myself arriving in Rome, in the midst of antiquity and chaos. I see myself walking along viales and running to tram stops. I see myself as someone other than myself. Some unchanged entity that I no longer recognize to be me. Of course, much has altered within a year. I spent half of 2011 thousands of miles across the Atlantic, something Ive never done before. When I came back to the United States, I felt that there was an empty space of who I previously was. A void within myself that I was incapable of filling, or even describing. As I adjusted to my niche back at MSU and the RCAH, I slowly reconciled with myself. I faced reality. But I felt lost; uncontrollable, almost. I struggled with how I could connect back to the self that I was in Rome: the woman with no reservations, no country. The Americana who was no longer una stranieraa foreigner. How could I get back there? Scenes play out each day in my head: having dinner with my neighbors, making the 45 minute trek to class each day, arguing with gypsies, buying flowers from vendors in the citys most colored markets, finding beauty in what most thought was no longer beautiful. As we inaugurate the official RCAH literary magazine, we ask: how can we connect with our past? How can we get back to something so tangible but unreachable? Ive learned that in order for one thing to begin, something else must end. But that doesnt mean that it is lost. My time living in Italy is not lost, because writing is how I have come to remember Rome. My words recreate the smells, the characters, the story of the unending drama that is the eternal city. And sometimes, I put myself in these stories, as we must be a part of things we create. We hope that creative expressions found within RCAHive will renew our passions. My hope for RCAHive is that it not only becomes a vehicle for creativity, but a vehicle of remembrance; though writing and photos we can relive our experiences. One year ago I was watching the most beautiful sunrise to ever kiss the earth these last twenty years. The dissipating blue and pink clouds spread across the Gianicolo hill still speak to me. Possiamo cominciare ancora, the clouds whisper. We can begin again.

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news

A CALL FOR A PROGRESSION IN THE FEMINIST MOVEMENT McKenna Keck

New Beginnings are something many people wish to obtain on a daily basis. New beginnings with friendships, classes, jobs. But when I think of new beginnings in correlation with my article, I think of a new beginning by starting a third wave: A third wave to the feminist movement.. The feminist movement dates all the way back to the 1800s when women were fighting for equal rights and were assimilating into the workplace. Now, over a hundred years later, we are still facing detrimental issues that plague the female gender. I could write this article and inform you about how women still face discrimination in the workplace and still arent allowed to fight on the front lines, but instead, I will tell you about how it is still seen as degrading for a male to participate in feminine activities. How it is still degrading for a male to like soft colors that often seen as girly like pink and purple. And how it is still degrading for a husband to stay at home and do the cooking and cleaning while the wife brings home the bacon. On April 5th of last year, J. Crew sent out an email to its customers, offering free shipping on certain purchases. The email contained an ad of Jenna Lyons, the J. Crew President and Executive Creative Director, painting her young sons toenails pink, which just so happens to be his favorite color. This innocent picture is meant to depict a mother and son bonding and sharing a happy moment together while advertising J. Crews nail polish line. However, many people acted as if the picture was some horrendous tool meant to cause gender confusion to Lyonss son and small boys everywhere. Erin R. Brown, a writer from CMI, the very conservative Cultural and Media Institute even went as far to say, J. Crew Pushes Transgender Child Propaganda. Many said that this ad was wrong because the young boy is showing transgender actions and will lose his ideas of gender identity. But if the ad was of a father and daughter playing with toy trucks or toy guns, the ad would have slipped right under everybodys radar. This is why the ad has a stronger, underlying problem other than just the accusations that were spewed at J. Crew. The ad proves the fact that boys taking part in a girl activity is unacceptable, not because the activity itself is unacceptable, but because the female sex is still seen as inferior. This same theory is applicable to boys and men who are overly sensitive or are having a bad day. You can often hear other guys tell them toget off the rag, or to stop being such a girl. Many people see sensitivity as a weakness, and relate sensitivity to women. In turn, this causes women to appear as weak or inferior in the eyes of many. The female sex has progressed significantly in the last century. We attained our right to vote, began to break the mold of just being the motherly caretaker, and started participating in activities that were traditionally male dominated. But now, I think its time to not only finish breaking this stereotypical mold for women; I think that the stereotypical mold for men needs to be broken, too. For example, its still not socially acceptable for a father to be a stay at home dad while the mother goes out to work. Society deems this unacceptable because the gender roles are reversed. Traditional western culture says the woman should be cleaning and caring for the children while the man brings in the money. However, its now okay for the woman to work and have a career, as long as her husband does, too. My roommate and I share similar perspectives. This past week, it seemed like our room was overflowing with female power as we discussed the stereotypical roles women fulfill. Sarah told me about an article she read that attributed womens success to their nurturing and caring qualitiesnothing else. Not their hard work, intelligence, or determination. Many students, and maybe even some professors, are going to read this article and deny the claim I am making by saying that I have made an inductive leap from the evidence to my conclusion. However, those who believe that probably wont be able to answer me this: why is it now acceptable for little girls to not only play on baseball teams, or play with trucks, or even toy guns, yet its still unacceptable for little boys to like pink or paint their toenails? Whats wrong with that? Children are curious and they like to explore. A boy playing with dolls or painting his toenails isnt going to make him gay or force him to become transgender. Its not going to make him weak like society views women. His identity will stay the same, regardless of feminine activities he may participate in. This is why I think its time for a third wave of the feminist movement. But this time, the movement cant just change things for the female sex, because in order for things to change for us, things need to change for the male sex, too.

the third wave:

A Further Explanation of SOPA and PIPA

Bridget Gonyeau

Protester Nadine Wolf demonstrates against SOPA outside the US Senate in New York. Picture: AFP www.news.com.au

If you have a computer and ears, and dont live under a rock, youve probably been hearing a whole lot about two acronyms lately: SOPA and PIPA. As Im sure youve all heard it has something to do with Internet and everyone is against it. But the details of these two legislations have become so vague and misconstrued that they are starting to sound like the confusing health reform of the 2009-2010 years. So what exactly are the SOPA and PIPA bills? Well for starters SOPA is the House of Representatives Stop Online Piracy Act. PIPA is the Senates Protect IP Act. Each bill, when passed, would allow copyright holders to punish websites that host pirated content. According to CNN.com PIPA, ...is intended to help put a stop to foreign websites that illegally post, and sometimes sell, intellectual property from the United States. Federal law-enforcement agencies

would be empowered to shut down those sites and cut off advertising and online payments to them. This worries many American companies who have domain names registered across borders. Companies registered in the United States are equally as worried because both bills give copyright holders the power to shut down sites they accuse of copyright infringement with very little to no evidence. The current standing law in the US allows for the website guilty of infringement to be given a warning to take down offending material before the government is permitted to seize the domain. These bills dont just affect those small shady websites that stream terribly bootlegged versions of movies not yet on DVD. Both of these legislations would majorly handicap, if not entirely shut down major internet giants such as

Wikipedia, Youtube, Tumblr, and many more. Any website where copyrighted images, sound, or video are shared would fall under the piracy guideline of SOPA and PIPA and would be immediately shut down. The backlash from these legislations has caused thousands to march into protest. Among the vocal protestors have been many internet giants such as Google and Wikipedia, who placed censors over their logos, or turned their home pages into links to petitions for the internet blackout this week. These avid protests have successfully persuaded many congressional leaders to rethink the bills. Even the White House released a statement last Saturday against the charters: "While we believe that online piracy by foreign websites is a serious problem that requires a serious legislative response, we will not support legislation that reduces freedom of expression,

increases cyber security risk, or undermines the dynamic, innovative global Internet." Protests have been so abundant, in fact, that it has caused for many rewrites of the bills. As reported by the NY Daily News, SOPA is coming back to committee for a markup session in February, according to a release from one of its sponsors, Rep. Lamar Smith. PIPA is still scheduled to go up for a procedural vote in the Senate Jan. 24th. The likelihood of both bills failing or being completely revised until the 2012 election are looking very probable. And luckily for those against the legislation, the opposition to the bills far outweighs the support which will be very important for President Obama on this year, being that its almost election time.

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Following tie for first in the Iowa caucuses, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney won the New Hampshire primary by a sixteen point margin. He's expanded his national lead to double digits. Three former opponents for the nomination have dropped their bids. He's scored highprofile endorsements, including former rival and 2008 nominee Senator John McCain. On the surface, January seems to have been an excellent month for Romney. But even as everything seems to be going right for the frontrunner, January has revealed a number of chinks in the former Governor's armor and opened the door for intense criticism both as he wraps up the GOP nomination and in the fall against President Barack Obama.

Much of this was beyond Romney's control. Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich opened up a fierce line of attack against Romney's days at private equity firm Bain Capital. His experience at Bain has been a central part of his campaign; he frequently cites it as proof of his private sector experience and claims to have created over 100,000 jobs during his time there. Private equity firms like Bain purchase companies that are struggling and attempt to turn them around. When they doas was the case with Staples and The Sports Authorityit can be a stunning success, as Romney is quick to note. When it isn't, though, workers bear the brunt of the pain and Bain tends to skate off unscathed, or even in the black. The Bain attack was a key reason Romney lost in his 1994 Senate bid, with Ted Kennedy's campaign running ad after ad featuring workers who lost their jobs due to Bain's maneuverings.

Gingrich's campaign, spited by negative ads in Iowa, has taken a page out of the Kennedy playbook and begun to attack Romney for his work at Bain. On January 18, for example, Gingrich blasted the Bain model for allowing the firm to, "leverage the game, borrow the money, leave the debt behind and walk off with all the profits." Gingrich was not subtle in his conclusion: "Now, I'll let you decide if that's really good capitalism. I think it's exploitive. I think it's not defensible." The Gingrich campaign has serious money behind these ads now, too, with a pro-Gingrich Super PAC pumping millions of dollars into South Carolina to run ads blasting Romney. The other chief remaining rival, former Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum, while refusing to explicitly attack Bain, has portrayed himself as the only candidate for the working and middle class, an unsubtle attack on Romney's wealth.

Romney has attempted to deflect the attacks by insisting that to criticize Bain is to "put private enterprise on trial." In fact, Romney even suggested that those who attacked it didn't believe in capitalism. This defense may have been effective in the general election, when right-wing voters, already convinced Obama is a socialist, would have shrugged these attacks off. But the fact that this onslaught comes now puts Romney in a difficult position in the primary and sacrifices his general election defense. To attempt to brand the President as an opponent of capitalism, while dishonest, would have been one thing. But to try to do the same with a former Republican Speaker of the House, a leading culture warriorm former Senator, and the Republican Governor of Texas, is monumentally more difficult. Assuming Mitt is the nominee, expect a number of Democratic ads this fall to simply let Romney's Republican opponents do the talking.

Not all of what has made January such a bad month for Romney has been because of his rivals. He has made a series of unforced errors that have reinforced the Bain narrative and has gone further, to appear out of touch. In New Hampshire, he told a crowd at a town-hall meeting, "I like being able to fire people." In context, this was not an allusion to his corporate past but simply a rather awkward phrasing of his position on health care choicebut the context is not likely to matter. As the airwaves are flooded with ads featuring workers laid off by Bain, to suggest that you enjoy "firing people" sounds callous no matter the rest of the sentence.

Romney's tax returns have also been a source of considerable frustration. In keeping with a precedent set by Romney's father, Michigan Governor George Romney, every major Presidential candidate since 1968 has released his or her tax returns. So far, Romney has refused. This is because they will likely show that, because of the structure of the federal tax code, Romney pays a lower tax rate than many middle class Americans. The actual tax forms may do a lot to validate the Democrats' position that the wealthy currently benefit from too many loopholes. But the drawn out, feckless way in which Romney has attempted to dodge the issue has made matters even worse. When asked at a CNN debate if he would release his returns like his father did, his ineffectual, "maybe," drew boos from the audience. In an election where the progressiveness of federal taxes will likely loom large, struggles with his own taxes will do everything but help.

Romney has done much to appear out of touch. When discussing his income, he referred to the $360,000 he earned from speaking fees as "not very much" money and laughed. For the almost 99% of Americans who earn less than that, it was no laughing matter. He also referred to himself as coming from "the real streets of America," an almost comic attempt for the multi-millionaire son of a multi-millionaire to connect with average voters. It is difficult to tell most Americans that Bloomfield Hills represents the real streets of America.

As we enter February, Mitt Romney is still the overwhelming favorite to win the Republican nomination. He has the support of most of the GOP establishment, he has the strongest organization of any of the Republicans, and polls consistently show him as the strongest opponent in the general election. But as his record at Bain has faced increased scrutiny, his tax returns have sparked considerable controversy, and his connection with the average American has been questioned, the first month of 2012 has been a bad month for Mitt.

Mitt's Bad Month: A Controversial Beginning to the Elections of 2012

Sean Fitzpatrick

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the arts

If I slip
Cooper Franks
I am the pencil with which I write, Expelling my thoughts into the world of white, Injecting it with bold expressions of black, Pouring out myself, never looking back.For if I slip, I will simply begin. I am the pencil with which I write, Without an eraser I will be just right, Filling up my canvas with illustrations of me, Showing it proud for the world to see. And if I slip, I will simply begin. I am the pencil with which I write, Illuminating the darkness with my light, Never regretting my constructions of art, The beautiful imperfections of my heart. For if I slip, I will simply begin. I am the pencil with which I write, Engraving my legacy with all my might, Transcending each time and space, Impacting each and every place. And if I slip, I will simply begin. I am the pencil with which I write, Growing, learning and improving outright, Using my doodles to live what I know, And that is to awaken, get up, and go. For if I slip, I will simply begin. I am the pencil with which I write, I will make contact and passionately ignite, To make a mark and to be, And thats whats real, and that is me. If I slip, I will simply begin.

Occurences in a Desert

My feet now stride atop the grains of earth Ground up. Cut down. Split apart through ages; Measures hither Existing separately and together. Shifting under my step-maintaing an impression of what once was there. Thieved of fluidity. Arid... Truth! My gait quickens Thirst flooding the brittle estuaries of my hearth. The path lengthens I can see the musing solutionthe answer to this drought! The distance shortens The oasis I seek smilesseeming with soporific promise Desire heightens I sprint. It smirks. I cease. Truth. I steeped in the sinister delusiveness that ebbed from this very place. The incidences of existence I laid, Like Echo, Faded. Resonating the longing I possessed before. The grains parted beneath my sole. Fervor forever fleeting I embarked once more. Truth...

That First Step (Is, Notoriously, a Doozy)

Libby Lussenhop
Poes tell-tale heart would commend us for our own tale-telling hearts that cant be silenced by the floorboards. Tales we display or dismiss, we are familiar with the polished blades concealed among words, like zinc-spiced pills submerged in applesaucein an age of side effects, we understand how those blades can be bent, forging rapiers into railings, guiding us up the slick steps to the high dive. Shuffling our feet, we adjust the fulcrum, we need a little more spring after this persistent winter of perpetual sleep, words confined to dreams. Now poised at the edge of the springboard, tales held tight, its the doubt before the dive that stops us. We want to know the waters depth; we want to see ourselves falling, breaking the surface, returning, breaching, breathing, repeating. Only time will tell and weve never listened so closely. But first its our turn to speak. So were taking that first step. Mind the splash zone.

Phoebe Richardson

New Beginnings
10 RCAHIVE | the arts Kristin Phillips 11

BOTTLE EYES
Abbie Heath
After a day of moving, moving, moving, we settled down in Greektown to get us some tasty eatz. I was seated at the edge of a long table with my back to the window, and everyone in the restaurant was placed in just a way that allowed me to make perfectly connected eye contact with a perfectly connected stranger. Everyone at my table was talking and drinking and buzzing, and I just felt me slowly going inside of myself. Not in a Sylvia Plath sort of way, but rather I was sinking into Observe and Absorb Maggie, and I just let the reality of the situation envelop me. I felt a step removed from everything, and in my observational frenzy, my eyes found Stranger. He looked to be about my age, at the very least no more than 20, and he too was smushed between the energies of those around him, subdued in the middle of all the buzzbuzzbuzzing. He had a thick, dark mustache that seemed to contradict the clean eager youngness of his face.And we looked at each other.And we kept looking at each other. Usually when someone finds me staring at their face, I quickly shy away and find any and every possible out to explain my crazy eyes. But this time, neither of us did. Maybe it was because I wasnt at my real home, or maybe it was because I was so absorbed in absorbing, and a little tipsy off of rosy red Greek wine. Either way, we both boldly continued staring, not smiling or mouthing any words, just blatantly acknowledging the other. We shifted between worlds, returning to our proper tables, and every now and then I found him with a big smile, or gesturing to his family (... probably?) around him. We looked up every now and then, the staring continuing. I wasnt trying to flirt with him, and I dont think he was really trying to flirt with me. In the situation, flirtation seemed a foreign concept and beneath us. We were just connected, despite the busy restaurant and the even busier streets. We were just looking, trying to feel the presence of another human. (At least, thats what I was trying to do, for all I know he was just wondering why the doe-eyed, big-nosed white chick was staring at him). After awhile, a ruckus broke out, and I saw the waiters hustling over to Strangers table, singing and bringing him whatever the hell dessert Greek restaurants give to people on their birthday (... baklava?). Either way, I found out his name is Yani, and as he was sung to he just stared ahead, barely reacting. After hours and hours, he got up, dinner over. And as he stood up, I noticed he only had one arm, the other was a prosthetic. I didnt notice during dinner, because it looked like his hands were just sitting in his lap while he ate, and frankly, I was too busy staring at his mustacheface. I didnt mind, he was still clearly a good looking kid, but everything inside me fell apart, and everything grew louder as I saw his Maybe-Uncle wrap a coat around him and zip it up. The whole time Stranger Yani looked at me, our eyes locked, and I felt like I could hear everything we werent saying. He was wondering if I cared. He was wondering if I was questioning our whole connection because now I know his physical secret. Or maybe he was wondering if I was happy, if thats why I was staring, and if thats what I wanted to see. I wanted to hug him and nuzzle him and tell him that everything was so real, that I wasnt flirting, just connecting, and that wasnt going to go away. But his dark eyes just kept looking at me unflinchingly, and I wanted so much for him to see that it didnt matter, that I didnt care. But it was his truth, and I know he cant escape it. He and his Maybe-Family, Definite-Horde filed out of the restaurant, his eyes never leaving mine. Judgement, connection, confusion. I found myself at a long table, surrounded by laughing faces made louder and more distorted by the rosy red Greek wine. The bottles emptied, and his eyes remained. I felt anxious-empty-flat. Will his eyes remember me? After all, were just humans.

Blizzard
Drew Fisher
It's snowing outside. And so it begins. A snowy haze has descended upon the landscape, as the streets and sidewalks have disappeared. All that marks their location is the streetlamps, casting their warm glow across the snow, illuminating a shadowy figure that stands alone, as the last hint of intelligent life quickly evacuates the barren and hostile landscape in search of a place to hole up for the night. The winds are picking up. The storm is coming. The snow piles up slowly on the edges of the window panes, precariously perched on the precipice, preparing to take the plunge. Into the wind it goes, traveling wherever the wind wants to blow. And as the wind slows, it signals the calm before the storm. The snowy haze thickens up like a heavy fog, obscuring the world as it coats the roads and the roads blend perfectly with the ground. One final soul makes a brave and daring dash, through the wind and the omnipresent snow. A car inches along, trying to see, not wanting to crash into the tree that stands strong against the snow. A vicious gust picks up the dust and the snow takes to the air. The storm is almost here. The sky itself has turned a reddish hue and the rest of the air reflects it too. The snow that sprawls over the landscape sweeps into mounds and smooths itself out into sands of a desert land. The trees have lost their detail, and the bare branches are but black shadows of what they used to be. You can see as they move, you can see as they sway. You can hear the wind blow. And you can feel that the storm is upon us. The window panes start to shake in their frame as ghosts fly by outside. They screech and howl and tear at the trees, shaking their few leaves with more than a breeze, and hurtling through their branches. Pine needle fingers tap at the glass, urgently wanting to come in. Wanting to come in, out of the cold, the very cold that keeps me penned. So I close my eyes, glad that Im alive, waiting for the storm to end. Line of sight is no more, as the wind and snow fight their war, clashing and thrashing and making us sore, as the fallen collapse upon the floor, piling up in front of our doors. A few humans run out to play, oblivious that they're now caught in the fray, so as they go out and about their day, the battle rages as before. White. Endless and unceasing white, smothering the blight of our world outright, long before we can put up a fight, and reflecting the light, turning the whole world white.

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entertainment

Music not Money

Isaac Berkowitz
Rapids I have been playing music in a band since I was about 14 and playing live since I was 16. Since Ive been playing, however, it has been much more difficult to showcase my music live. There were only really two venues in which my band could sincerely play and be welcomed because of what we were doing, while every other venue seemed to focus on money and not the music. Mr. Kamalay further reminisced about how live music used to mean everything, recordings were simply a way to be recognized and bring people to see the band play. Over time recordings have ruined the purity and excitement of the live performance. People began putting so much into the studio recordings and using new technologies to alter sound and ability that when audiences finally go see the artists perform they are let down by the poor quality of the music and inability to duplicate the sound, leaving fans skeptical of the music and pushing people away from the live music scene. However, to be clear, there are musicians who are able to duplicate their studio sound and put on a show as wonderful as expected by their fans. It is when tools such as Auto-Tune are used to perfect the vocals of a singer that the studio begins to ruin the sanctity of live performance. As times change though, it is easy to get left behind. As much as one would love it to be like days past where recordings were merely an invitation to the live showwhere there were recordings like Bob Dylan's 115th Dream in which a carefree Dylan stumbles over the intro begins laughing and starts the song overyou must progress with the times and roll with the punches. As a musician now it seems as if you are judged more on the quality of your recordings than your raw talent as exposed in a live show. Live music, to me, is truly how music is supposed to be heard. Every time it gives you something new, something exciting to think about and to inspire you.

G.R.I.N.D. (Get Ready Its a New Day)

The story of the incredible Asher Roth concert
David Ward
Monday, December19 was quite the night in Chi town. I went to Reggies Rock Club, the first stop on Asher Roths new tour named after his recently released mix tape, Pabst & Jazz. The mix tape he dropped while on stage at the stroke of midnight for free on the wellknown website, Datpiff! Four close friends of mine made the road trip from my hometown of South Haven to meet up with fellow Roth fans in Chicago six hours before the doors opened. We lucked into parking right in front of the venue and to our surprise, we could see Asher doing his sound check inside. We were so pumped for the concert and were not disappointed. A guy who went into Reggies noticed us waiting in line alone for this concert not scheduled to start for hours; he came back out with a camera. He said they were making a Pabst & Jazz tour DVD and wanted an interview with some obviously dedicated fans. This was exciting but not enough to block out the cold of waiting hours on a frigid December night. Right before they opened the doors on this sold out show, we tossed our sweatshirts and coats in the car then walked in right to the front and center of the stage. After some opening MCs, a soulful and refreshing Jazz band called the Oh Mys came out and rocked the house. Their new single My House sounded great with their blend of saxophone, trombone, trumpet, keyboard, drums, bongos, and lead vocalist playing smooth guitar. Rapper GLC destroyed his set and Micky Rocks of the Cool Kids came out with DJ Chuck English and pumped the place up. The doors opened at 7 and it was around 11 when Asher finally came on, and boy was the crowd ready. He walked out in a plain grey crew neck with a PBR blue ribbon pinned to his chest and warned the crowd that Im gonna play a lot of stuff off my new mix tape a lot of stuff you guys havent heard but its gonna be ok because we're just gonna jam and rock out. He then proceeded to rock song after song off his mix tape bringing out most of the other MCs that were featured in the songs. Vic Mensa and Liam Cunningham of up and coming band Kids These Days joined him on stage for Hard Times. DJ Chuck English came back out to do his song In the Kitchen which him and Asher actually made in the kitchen! Nathan Santos joined Roth for Not Meant 2 Be, while Roth got everyone to spread their arms out and float to the beat like we were flying. All the while DJ Wreckineyez spun the beats in his fake mustache and glasses, flawlessly free styling a bit here and there. My friends and I were blown away at how close we were to the artist. I have pictures on my phone that look as if I was on stage with Asher. When Roth left the stage the crowd was more than hyped and the inevitable chant ASH-ER ASH-ER ASH-ER started up. He came back out and performed his hit single G.R.I.N.D. The crowd went insane when they heard the unmistakable synthesized organ intro to the start of the song. That energy carried through the song and after the chorus, Asher, his bassist, drummer, and DJ Wreckineyez stopped and danced to Apache (Jump On It). Then they smoothly went back into the song ending with Roth stage diving right onto me and my friends. Walking out of Reggies at 1:30am Chicago time after DJ Wreckineyez freestyle to end the show meant it was already 2:30am in South Haven. Driving the 2 hours back was no problem since that amazing show had me wired. A quick it was awesome to my mom at four in the morning when she asked how the concert was and I flopped onto my bed with the sounds of soulful jazz, amazing MCs, the roar of a sold out house, and Ashers unique tone still pulsing in my ears.

Recently, I was able to play music with a local Jazz guitarist by the name of Ray Kamalay (member of The String Doctors, Shepards Folly, and Ray Kamalay and his Red Hot Peppers). He has been playing music around Lansing and Detroit since the 1960s. Being a young musician in the area, I was interested in what he had to say about the local scene. He told me that directly after finishing college in 1974 (a recession year) he was able to obtain a job at a local foundry making roughly $240 a week while playing music two to three nights a week at local bars and venues and making the same amount of money. He told me he played at as many venues as he could and even then, there were still countless more inviting him and other local musicians in to play. This got me thinking about my own experiences with playing live music. Growing up in Grand

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a brief look i n to c ou n t y ou r lu c ky s ta r s re c o rd la b e l
Ian Siporin
A small record label located in Fenton, Michigan has been generating quite a bit of buzz over the past few years. Count Your Lucky Stars, or CYLS, as its known to many fans, is a label that has amassed a large following in the midwest. They happen to be one of the frontrunners in the growing Midwest Emo Revival scene and are associated with the larger label known as Topshelf Records. Now, when I say Emo, I dont mean the common misconception of bands like Hawthorne Heights or The Used. Midwest Emo has a much more subtle and subdued sound. The heavy distortion of most mainstream Emo and Hardcore bands is often tossed aside and replaced with a clean twinkly guitar sound. Bands in this scene incorporate elements of Math Rock, post-rock, and punk rock. Even though there is a particular sound that the label looks for, listeners can find a great amount of variety between the bands on the label. Warren Franklin has a more acoustic singer/songwriter style, the soft and emotional sound of Empire! Empire! (I Was A Lonely Estate) is a must, and even the all-instrumental music created by Mountains for Clouds is a staple in the CYLS catalogue. My personal favorites from the label are Empire! Empire! because of singer/ songwriter Keith Latinens unique voice and poetic lyrics, Joie De Vivre because of their ability to incorporate horns and powerful vocals into their songs, and Castevet (CSTVT) for their beautiful instrumentals. Label head Keith Latinen has given CYLS the tagline The Little Label With a lot of Love, and as a fan, this is a very appropriate description of CYLS. Their collection of merchandise is very reasonably priced and it ranges from t-shirts and stickers to CDs and, for all the hip kids (wink wink), tons of vinyl. Yes, you read correctly, one of my favorite aspects of CYLS is that they have vinyl available for almost every artist on the label. Not only is it priced very well, but they always seem to add a little flare to the vinyl pressings by adding color and design to them. I recently purchased Empire! Empire!s full length LP when coming up to state, and opened it to find a beautiful grey marble colored record, ready to sooth my eardrums. The label also has plenty of deals that go on throughout the year. The most recent was a sale where every day a new type of merchandises pricing was slashed. This included albums, shirts, stickers, mp3s, and everything else available on their website. Im sure the students at Michigan State would also like to know that Keith Latinen is an MSU alumni. I had the pleasure of talking with him over the summer at a house show in Ann Arbor. I must

The Little Label With A lot of Love

say, he is a very nice and soft spoken man. He spoke with my acquaintance Sean Fitzpatrick and I about everything from his time spent at MSU to his interest in Pokemon. Keith apparently used to work in the MSU library and got his degree in Library Studies. Not knowing what to do with this degree, he decided to pursue his passion for writing emotion heavy songs and bringing Emo joy (maybe a contradiction) to the world. Now Keith runs his own label and gets to tour not only the country, but the world. I would strongly suggest looking into what Count Your Lucky Stars has to offer. They are a great local label that supports local acts and produces fantastic music. CYLS has a knack for forming personal connections to their fans. I know that Ill always be a supporter of CYLS, whether that be buying the merch or going out to shows. The Midwest Emo scene is a very fun scene to be apart of, and I would suggest that all of you look into seeing what its all about.

rcah life

All your entertainment in the RCAH Roial Players Improv!

Becky Barron
If you walk through the basement of Snyder-Phillips on a Friday night and hear excessive laughter, lots of applause, and maybe a few awkward comments being yelled from the RCAH Theater, like loose-cannon gynecologist or mama's boy, you are definitely hearing a Roial Player's Improv Show. For those who don't know, Roial Player's Improv Group puts on a show once a month, always on a Friday at nine o'clock in the RCAH Theater. The Roial Players improv show is typical of the traditional games played on Whose Line Is It Anyway, like The Dating Game, Scenes From A Hat, and Harold's. And if you are worried about being called upon for audience participation, don't worry, you most definitely will be. I myself have been a bachelorette on the dating game and had to choose from one of my three bachelorsa kangaroo, Jesus, and a caveman. Grace Pappalardo, director of the Roial Players Improv Group, first joined the group as a freshman. For those of us who, like myself, have to think about our jokes long and hard before we say them, might want to turn to some advice from this improv director. I think one of the best methods of thinking on the spot is having a super weird brain and an untamed imagination, says Pappalardo. A super weird brain and an untamed imagination...I don't think that should be too hard for us RCAH majors! Another member of the group, Sam Peters, said that playing different theater games at practice help his skills, and that improv is like a team sport; every one helps each other out on the stage. Now for those skeptics out there who wonder why they would want to waste their time on a Friday night going to a college improv show, I'll tell ya! Improv makes the world a better place. Grace and Sam both agree that laughter is quite a healing power, and these shows can make someone's week just a bit brighter. Getting a room full of people to laugh is pretty significant, says Peters, and I agree. So if you are having a bad week and need a pick me up, or just want a good laugh, or hey, want to meet your future kangaroo husband, come out to Roial Players Improv! Their upcoming show is March 30 at 9 PM, for only $1.00!

RCAHtainment:

DEAN ESQUITH WANTS YOU...

The best part about working in the RCAH is seeing our students ideas come alive. I think one of our students said it best when she said that this is a place where professors and staff members say, why not instead of why. I used to think that the willingness of faculty and staff to support student ideas and initiatives was the result of us being a brand new college. We wanted students to have a voice and enough space to create the culture of the college on their terms. After five years, I now realize that its not because were new. Its because we know that students are the lifeblood of this college and that anything that has ever worked and worked well has come from students. Our students are artists, performers, teachers, activists, thinkers, musicians, and world citizens. Our students take initiative. They see a need and they fill it. They have an idea, and they connect with someone to make the idea a reality. That is exactly what happened with this literary magazine you are holding. One student had an idea, and he kept moving and bringing

people along until something happened. He made a New Beginning. What I love about this job is that what happens within the walls of this college does not happen everywhere. Students here are exceptional. From RCAH council, to ROIAL players, to RCAHppella to RCAHive, students are engaged, involved, and passionate. So, whats the advice from your advisor? Get involved. Stay involved. Ask for help when you need it, and enjoy being part of a place designed to give you the space you need to create and explore! Find your new beginning.

to come to RCAH council meetings on Mondays at 8:00 PM in the second floor study rooms . Help be a part of the student voice! Plan events, voice student issues, and help cultivate RCAH community. 40% Work 60% Fun

Kate's Korner

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column

A New Year
Abby Conklin
the gravesite of a thousand people! I exclaimed with mock enthusiasm as I opened a suitcase. Do you know where the snack bar is? The fact of the matter is, we know a couple of names on the marble walls of the site, including the father of a childhood friend of mine from Brooklyn (where I grew up), and I really didnt want to go. Didnt want to start 2012 in a mess of tears and snot. Which my mother and father understood, just as well as they understood how much it meant to my godmother that we all go together. So, seven hours after cheering for the four mile-racers in Central Park at midnight, the five of us were in line for security checks in lower Manhattan. It is public knowledge that the attacks gutted the towers as well as the surrounding area, but being there for the first time since was surreal. The city space was oddly clear, with an enormous wash of light and sky overhead because, unlike the rest of the island, there were no buildings jumbled together. My father was clenching his jaw and my mother was walking behind me with her head down. My brother was silent too, but it has to be said that hes sixteen... My godmother was not prepared for how her guests behaved during the half-hour allotted to them on site, for how much we cried. My parents and I walked single file around the two enormous square fountains that stand for each tower. There was water coursing down the black stone insides, across the bottoms, and then down again; a rigid quadrilateral chute in the center that seemed to be pulling us in and under to the ashes of the attacks far below. We looked at each engraved name, the mothers and their unborn children, the sons carrying their fathers names; there was a mass of people slowly rotating around the two marble squares, and then through the many memorial trees. My godmother and brother drifted off while my parents and I stood first in front of my friends fathers name, then the firefighter from our Park Slope neighborhood, and were quiet for a long time. It was sometime during that stillness that I noticed that many tourists around us were not upset. Instead, they were posing for photographs, situating themselves under the sun, leaning on the fountain walls, grinning hugely with peace signs. I found this shocking, almost offensive, and was secretly relieved to have something else to think about. We continued our walk through the memorial, left just before the thirty minutes were up, and wended our way back to where we had parked, a few blocks into the canyons of the city. It was a relief to be back in that shadowed familiar. And then, as we were getting into the car, a large man with a cat on his head appeared down the street. I kid not, a black cat with white mittens, and a group of Asian tourists behind us got very excited and pulled out cameras, in response to which the guy held up a furious hand and demanded payment for each photo taken. Baffled initially, a few of the tourists pulled out bills, posing as we pulled away from the curb. I found myself thinking about the people smiling at the memorial in relation to those who had just been harshly treated by a New Yorker with a pet on his bare head. The first tourists had irritated me, but the Asians were probably no happier about the behavior they saw from cat-man than I had been. Which then triggered something elseits all the same, isnt it? We can all judge. We can all decide that someone else is behaving improperly, that they fall into one category versus another. But we seem to forget that doing so is never, ever one way. For every time I have looked at someone unfairly, someone else has directed such a thought at me. And we could, of course, take that realization as reason for continuing our cruelty. But, what if we didnt? What if we realized that the world is far bigger than us? That our time is short, during which we come into contact with thousands of people? And that if we chose to spend that short time here being a positive force, we could do a lot more for those people we only briefly pass in our lives than if we were unpleasant?

Abby Tells It Like It Is

I adore my godmother Susan, a writer who is responsible for my taste in jewelry, love of words, and the marriage of my parents. But she is also a force to be reckoned with, which means that until recently, I never spoke at her dinner table for fear of public shaming. Case in point, when I finally worked up the nerve to argue with her for the first time, she informed me that my theories on the author H.A. Ray (of Curious George fame) were totally incorrect the direct quote, actually, is, No, youre wrong, sweetie. Really, really WRONG,and we began yelling at each other about a childrens author until, inevitably, she won. Fortunately, I have developed more of a backbone with her since then, and Youre really, really WRONG, has become part of family lore. But she is still a challenge sometimes, and this past New Years definitely put my family to the test. We arrived at her apartment in Manhattan two days after Christmas to be greeted with the excited announcement that she had gotten us tickets to see the 9/11 Memorial on January first. My father tentatively suggested that maybe only he and my godmother go, and let my mother and I stay back with my brother, but in case I havent made it clear enough prior to now, Susan does not believe in half-assing anything. We were going on a family trip to Ground Zero and it was going to be great. My mother and I went into the guest room to unpack, and began making sort of miserable jokes about our pending visit: Oh look,

Abby Schottenfels
Its my last semester, and Im sort of freaking out and not wanting to dwell in "new beginnings" quite yet. But what I can do is new reflections. Being that this is the beginning of the end I feel as though it relates. I wanted my column to be a tellall. Me laying on the hard truths, schooling you guys in hard knocks. And one thing I know about best is living (read: going BANANAZ) in Snyder-Phillips. Here are some of the tricks and trades I learned during my time in the glorious, notorious complex that is MASP: 1. Create your own extracurriculars. Im not talking about the usual Join an intramural team or Lets start the RCAH Photo Club for umpteenth time. Im talking about real extracurriculars like the time my roommate and I started what we called The Terrace Fight Club Dont Talk About It. We advertised on the bathroom dry erase boards and told everyone on our floor to meet us in the Pillar Room at 3 in the morning. No one came, except there was a couple there making out. They didnt want to be in the club. 2. Find places that arent your room to make your home. I just want to say for the record right now that the alleged Snyder Reading Rooms or the "back rooms by Aronoff s office or whatever is formally titled Serenity. Serenity is the place for one to truly go crazy. No work gets done there, but at the same time, all the work gets done there. It is the only place where it is completely reasonable to order two rounds of Jimmy Johns in one night. 3. Get wacky in the caf. The caf is cool until after the first month or two when you realize that you will never eat a new meal again. You know that green bean casserole comes on the third barbeque Wednesday of every month and there is nothing you can do about it. Except get wacky. My personal favorites include making what I like to call The Bagelwich and tricking the sandwich people into making me quesadillas. 4. Spend a Thursday night with someone who you wouldnt usually talk to I will never forget the night my friends and I fashioned our extra sheets into capes, changed our Facebook statuses to INFILTRATE, and tried to barge our way into the Pillar Rooms weekly Dungeons and Dragons game. 5. Make your whole floor do stupid things with you. One time I made my entire floor agree to Catwalk Tuesday every time we walked down the hall we strutted our stuff. We had Olympics, massage trains, fish funerals, roundtable conversations and once a Febreeze fight. Never be afraid of getting a noise violation or being written up, because it turns out they dont mean anything at all. 6. Never underestimate a shower jam session. A shower jam is a true art form. You cant try to control it. It has to be authentic. You shouldnt really try and plan it or pick songs beforehand. Its more like a drum circle in the way that everyone should contribute exactly what he or she wants. 7. ALWAYS cure a hangover in the caf. These are the memories you will cherish forever. Sitting at a marathon lunch for hours on end with different groups of people shuffling in and sharing glory stories from the night before. Sitting with your best friends intellectualizing about nothing, stalking the other clowns in Gal, laughing, smiling and from Brimstone to Bliss and back again to Ciao. This is what college is all about.

a thought. It is, after all, a new year.

Just

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In Defense of Reality TV
Anna Orsini
Welcome to the first of my monthly columns in the RCAHive. I spent a lot of time (okay, maybe half an hour) debating over winter break what exactly I wanted the theme of my column to be. Would I write about current issues related to the four pillars of the RCAH? Would I focus on civic engagement? What about highlighting some of the current happenings in the college? Nah. I decided my column would simply be whatever I felt like writing about each monthnothing serious or profound, just some casual musings. And one of my all-time favorite things to muse about is reality TV. Besides, what relates to this months theme of New Beginnings more than the outrageous new season of Dance Moms? Ill admit it: Im a reality television addict. Its really the only thing I can get interested in watching. See, Ive never been much of a TV/movie fan. My ideal movie length is about 90 minutes, since anything longer puts me to sleep. I find sitcoms to be like a root canal with no anesthesia, and I can hardly even make it through a single episode of those intelligent HBO dramas like Boardwalk Empire and The Wire. Watching TV for me is a physical discomfortI cant help but feel like I should be doing something better with my time. I just dont care what happens to these fake people on the screen. But, ah, reality TV. Now that is something I can get into. I spent a long time fighting my

LIFE WITH ANNA ORSINI

urge to watch the mundane lives of pregnant high schoolers on MTVs 16 & Pregnant or following bratty two-year-olds as they compete in pageants that they dont even know theyre in, aka Toddlers & Tiaras on TLC. I was embarrassed that the commercials I saw for these shows deeply fascinated me. Besides, I didnt watch TV at all, and that stuff was for real TV junkies. How could I possibly like it? It was trashy, and I was above it. Until, that is, I watched it. Ten minutes of True Life: Im Deaf was all it took to make me realize I was in no way better than reality televisionI was its prime audience. I watched 13-year-old skater-punk Christopher try to navigate his life in a public school, speaking only sign language and nearly unable to communicate verbally. I watched him get a cochlear implant and upon hearing his mom say Christopher, watched him sign, Thats my name. I heard you say my name. I sat on my couch and cried right along with his mother. I realized then that these were real people. These were their lives, and they were complicated and difficult. I may not have been able to get myself to care about Jennifer Aniston as Rachel in a staged New York City apartment, but goddamnit I cared about them. For me, reality TV just had a gravity that scripted shows were missing. Flash forward a few years and Im hooked. I watch Dance Moms every Tuesday night, and record Teen Mom 2 after that (not even reality shows can overcome my lack of an attention span.) I love Teen Mom, Top Chef, True Life, Beyond Scared Straight, Toddlers & Tiaras, hell, Ill even watch Storage Wars. Yes, Im aware the reality TV shows have writers. Im aware that they employ story editors who create plots by cutting existing footage and using voiceovers to create illusions that certain things happened which, in fact, did not. I know that producers create drama by manipulating the questions asked during character interviews, by adding intense music and sound effects to important scenes (as we all know, real life has no soundtrack), and even by staging certain events. In effect, I know that reality TV simply does not always portray true reality. But you know what? I dont care. Its fascinating, its entertaining, its illuminating; and for that one hour that Im watching it, I can escape. I can stop worrying about the papers I have due, the chores I never finished, what the hell Im going to do with my life...Instead, I can completely invest myself in the (edited) lives of real people in the world. I can root for Maci in Teen Mom as she devotes her life to her three-year-old son Bentley, getting a job, going back to school and standing up to her ex, Ryan. I can shake my head as middle-aged women fight over which 9-year-old is a better dancer in Dance Moms (its Maddie, by the way). Hell, I can even cry at True Life: Im Deaf if I want to. Ive been told watching reality TV is tasteless. Countless people have tried to find just the show that can get me out of my reality habit and back into quality (re: scripted) television. My friends and family wonder how I, an intelligent young woman, could possibly degrade myself with unscripted shows on MTV. Well, it may be trashy, but reality TV gives me perspective. When I do think critically about it, it helps me understand the world and the people in itproviding examples of how power and privilege, race, gender, sexual orientation, class and more function in the media. And when I dont, its pure, unfettered entertainmentthe escape from my own life that, at some point, we all need. If reality TV is what can give this to me, whats so wrong with that?

The Simple Things

New Beginnings
Kaitlyn Fay

The idea of starting fresh and being able to begin from square one is always exciting. As humans, we like to have constant new beginnings. It gives us a chance to start over and forget any mistakes we may have made before. Every semester we get to start from scratch with new classes and new professors. We make promises to ourselves that we will try harder, achieve more this semester, and get those papers started well before they are due. Lets be honest, for most of us those papers will still be left until the last minute. At least we had the chance to expect better from ourselves to try harder. The changing of seasons is always exciting to us. The beginning of spring brings fresh flowers and new life to the world. Summer promises a break with sunny times and laughter. When we think of fall we imagine walking around on a nice crisp day through tunnels

of yellow, orange and red trees. Winter gives us thoughts of pretty snowflakes, sledding, and making snowmen. We like to imagine the positive aspects of what the new seasons will bring us. We could dwell on the fact that spring will bring rain, summer will be sweaty and unbearably hot at times, fall means raking up dirty leaves and winter gives us slippery roads and frozen toes, but we dont. We imagine beautiful beginnings with hopeful glances toward the future. Going through life, we sometimes dont realize simple things are complex things put together for our enjoyment. Look down at what you are wearing. Can you imagine that every article of clothing on your body began with one little stitch of thread? Whether your clothes are hand made or were made in a factory; someones hands guided the machine to sew the fabric together

that you are wearing. If you would like to go even further, someone created the fabric being sewn together and the thread thats used. Many of our new beginnings are created by us, like writing words upon a page. The first word on a piece of paper can begin a whole new story that no one has ever seen before. Whether you are writing a story, a poem, or a song, there are so many possibilities. You can take yourself and others anywhere your imagination will lead you. Creating something is the ultimate of new beginnings. Who knows where your creation will take you? You may just escape the burdens of real life for a few minutes, or you may see your artwork in a museum some day. Regardless, it all begins with a brushstroke, a word written on a page, the singing of a lyric, or a picture being taken, and ends with freedom. That could be

freedom of thought, freedom of speech, or just the freedom of release. The sunrise is one of the simplest new beginnings I can think of. With the flaming orange ball peeking over the horizon, we are given the promise of a new day. We have made it to yet another day of life. Only we can decide what that new day will bring and how preciously we will treasure it. With the constant blur of school, work, and extracurricular activities flying through us, it becomes really easy to forget how gifted we are to simply be alive. Every sunrise means we are still on Earth to enjoy life. Every step begins a new journey. Every story must start somewhere.

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opinion

Am I beautiful?
A Collection of Thoughts
makes me feel weak. Ive felt that way about it for a while, but until now I havent said it. Is it possible to love yourself without help? I cant pretend that loving yourself is easy. People fling the phrase around like it takes no effort at all. Its not that simple. Were only hurting ourselves by pretending that it is. When everything around you is geared to tell you that youre hopelessly flawed and ugly it takes work to love your body the way it is. It is in fact an act of revolution in a way. Is it a revolution that is desperately needed by us all. We are not the perfect magazine aliens and we should not try to be because beauty should not be defined by sameness or an adherence to some impossible standard. Desire for complete identicalness in every human form denies the very nature of beauty in itself, which is its subjectivity. I want to see people of every shape, size, and color, as varied as they can possibly be. I want to see people like and unlike me. I want to feel confident and charming and desirable and I want the people around to me to be able to feel the same way, if that is what they wish. Is that too much to ask?

Genocide of Words:
The impact of words.
Phoebe Richardson
Heres the thing about words: Theyre just words. Just a conglomeration of sounds. It's the humans job to apply meaning. I feel words have become so light lately, people throw them around like feathers to the point where the meaning has become lost. Think about what you are saying. They do impact the people who see these words as opaque and clouded with intention and formed thought. The people who do take words lightly are the ones that need to realize the magnitude of it all. Its easy to throw feathers around, but the thing is, if you dont realize the feathers are actually rocks youre eventually going to be the cause of your own demise. And then there are cases where words take the guise of truth, but are in fact shallow falsities. This is the cancer of a words meaning. And we become confused with reality. Reality is what you make of it, though. If you believe the sky is purple and the grass is blue, even though it is not true, that is your reality. On one hand, Im sure the sky and the grass would be frustrated with the population holding this reality, as they would want them to know their true colors. On the other, maybe they realize the people who accept these false realities are not worth their energy. Those who do not question should not have the right to own a brain. Or the right to own a voice to spread their ignorance. Think about what you are saying. Think about what you know, and what you dont know. Question. Dont assume. Do not accept what is given to you even though it might be what you want to believe. That is foolish. Find these things out yourself. Ask the source. As words travel from one host to the other it is easy for truth to be twisted, stretched and bleached to the point where it has come so far from what it was that it has become a completely different entity. And so the meaning and the truth, who desire no association with the new being, have fled. Please, lets stop this genocide of words. Lets all grow up and use our brains a little instead of ripping pillows apart and letting feathers fly when were angry or upset like a toddlers temper tantrum. No need for such destruction. Im here to understand, Im here to learn, Im here to question, Im here to problem solve, and Im here to communicate. The thing is though, I dont hold grudges. All negativity can be erased with a simple conversation. Perhaps we can inch closer to truth that way. Think about what you are saying.

Melanie LaBerge
How hard is it to love yourself? How hard is it to look in the mirror and feel beautiful?From my own personal experience and the experiences of people close to me the answer is that it can feel impossible. Believing that self- acceptance is hard in a world where every perceived flaw you have can be edited away is easy. Its much easier than learning to love yourself for the person that you are. I look in the mirror and see a face too round, with a lack of chin that often makes me look like I have two. I see the swell of my stomach where Ive been told there should only be a Flat space. I see my feet that face inward and feel like I am unable to walk in a way that would be considered beautiful unless I force them to face straight ahead. When I was younger I would accidentally lose weight without trying. My pediatrician grilled me like a police investigator for any signs that I might have an eating disorder. I never have and I could never compare my suffering to a person who has experienced such a disorder, but this accusation was upsetting to me. I felt like my doctor assumed that I hated my body simply because I was an adolescent girl. I know she meant well by it, but it put a lasting pressure on me that I still suffer from today. Before my most recent appointment I noticed that I weighed a little less than the last time I had gotten a check up and quickly looked up ways to gain weight because I feared being questioned again. I open a magazine and see people with unnaturally smooth skin, skin that no human being has. I see womens waists reduced to sizes where they wouldnt be able to hold themselves upright. I am told what I am supposed to see as beautiful. Its not people like me, not like my boyfriend either. In fact, who are these people? They dont look like human beings anymore. Why do we do this to ourselves? I say this assuming that the people sitting in front of a computer screen editing all the possible zits or wrinkles off of a models face are human beings and not aliens from a planet where looking like a person on a magazine cover is normal. What do these people look like? How do they feel about their jobs? I dont think they could possibly be oblivious to the effect that their work has on the rest of society. I wonder if it makes it more difficult to sleep at night. I suppose if you work in such an industry long enough you eventually get used to it. Although I desperately fight against this notion of what is beautiful, I still get caught in its web. I dont find what Im told is beautiful attractive. Year after year I find myself looking at this or that magazines proclaimed sex symbol of the year and feel nothing. When this happens I wonder if theres something wrong with me because obviously everyone else must be attracted to such and such, as long as the persons in their target sexuality. I assume that Im the problem, not that what a person is attracted to varies far more than what Ive been told. My boy back home, my gem, would not be considered beautiful in this world. The mere fact that he has pimples and blackheads would bar him from attractiveness. He admitted to me that he didnt consider himself beautiful before I told him I liked him. I could hold this over my head like it was somehow a triumph of my ability. I gave him confidence, it was me! Instead I just feel upset that he wasnt able to feel that way without my validation. I often felt the same way about myself before meeting him. I shouldnt need someone else to help me even feel the slightest bit of good about myself. That shouldnt happen. I know its all right to be happy when he says that Im beautiful, but the fact I often cant say that to myself without encouragement

22 RCAHIVE | opinion

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