Overheards 04.05.2022
Low Carb, Low Intellect: “You're built like a box of angel hair spaghetti.”
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Low Carb, Low Intellect: “You're built like a box of angel hair spaghetti.”
It’s hard to believe that Jennifer Egan (C ‘85), six–time novelist and current president of PEN America, once doubted anything would come of her writing. Yet, for all her laurels today, Egan’s early career follows a familiar plot: Young, bright–eyed college graduate turns up in New York, only to have her hopes quashed by the big city. “I just sort of washed up as a complete mess,” recalls Egan. And for all her fellow classmates in New York, Egan felt alone.
At around 7:20 p.m. on Monday, March 28, an expansive line stretched around the block on South Street, with hundreds of teenage girls and their reluctant boyfriends and parents. Everyone was shaking, and not just with anticipation for the show, as the weather was a crisp 27 degrees Fahrenheit. With red noses and cheeks, the queue slowly inched forward towards the entrance to the Theatre of Living Arts. Above the front doors was a sign that read “Tate McRae Sold Out.”
One of the most transformative lessons I’ve learned during my four years at Penn is becoming comfortable with letting go of opportunities that no longer feel authentic to me.
The separation of screen and viewer—a separation rooted in unfamiliarity toward characters I’ve seen on screen for as long as I can remember, of plots and writing styles that are intended for a “general audience” that I don’t belong to. To be a part of the screen, to reach out and mix what’s being shown to you with your own experience, is often a rarity for those beyond the Eurocentric norm. The world of television and cinema is a universe I compartmentalized as wholly different from my own reality, and when comparisons were struck between the two, it became harder to find emotional value in either.
I’m staring up at the extension cords and string lights hanging from the ceiling of the basement of Traitor Joe’s, a “house show vessel” about ten blocks from Penn’s campus, as Michael Auble (C ‘21) and his band Away Game are getting tuned for their set. The basement is a glorified laundry room—a rug, mic stands, and amps at the bottom of the stairs form a makeshift stage, but in the back, next to guitar cases and the soundboard, a full washer and dryer sit in full view, paint peeling from the walls behind. As Away Game plays their first song, the whole space is filled with Auble's bass, guitar from bandmate Justin Roa, and Dom DiPietro on drums. The room is all sways and nodding from the few dozen people that crowd the basement, Away Game’s sound nearly shaking the whole house. As they finish their first song and tune up for the next, Auble steps up to the microphone and thanks Traitor Joe’s for having them play.
In Western art, we tend to look for the artist before the art, curious about the personal secrets hidden in their work. In Kaiser Ke’s (C ‘24) premier exhibit, Non Sequitur, collage is the medium for art that doesn’t need meaning to vibrate with historical, cultural, and compositional resonance. “A non sequitur means a statement that does not logically follow from the previous statement … that is the essence and beauty of collage,” Kaiser says.
Renée Fleming. Joyce DiDonato. Kelli O’Hara.
Remember that feeling of hearing your favorite song on the radio for the first time? That one song that everyone knows? Pop music has been around for quite some time, and it's been shapeshifting ever since its beginning.
Lately, it’s been busier than usual near the Starbucks at the corner of 34th and Walnut streets. Waves of customers approach the store and notice the doors are locked and lights are turned off inside. A small poster at the entrance reads “Sorry For the Inconvenience.” But in front of the closed store, enthusiastic volunteers can be seen talking to incoming customers, handing out flyers, or passing around clipboards. Several of these off–duty workers and volunteers wear pins that have the words “Starbucks Workers United” imprinted in all caps, outlining an image of a raised fist and coffee mug.
When I first speak with Mariella Satow, I have to bite my tongue to keep from interrupting her with stories about my 7–year–old sister, whom I will inevitably boast about before we sign off. In the background, the 2022 Oscars gear up: A few hours from now, Troy Kotsur will become the first deaf man to win an acting Oscar, and CODA will win Best Picture in a ceremony overshadowed by controversy.
“Put your hands up if you’ve never rocked out to a cello before,” The Happy Fits lead vocalist Calvin Langman asked at last week’s XOXO Tour concert while opening for The Maine at Union Transfer. With my hands in the air, I decided I’d become a cello convert. After their 2016 EP intended only for friends and family blew up on Spotify, Langman, along with guitarist Ross Monteith and drummer Luke Davis, decided to “try and make it work.” They dedicated themselves to producing songs dominated by cello, a secret weapon that is “all power chords,” making it ideal for rock music, Langman says.
The Academy Awards, aka the Oscars, is an annual awards ceremony that honors the greatest achievements in cinema from the past year, voted by just under 10,000 Academy members. Or at least it’s supposed to be about that. We all know that the 2022 Oscars will be remembered for many other reasons.
There's no question that Black female rappers receive more criticism than male rappers of any race. Since the explosion of hip–hop and R&B in the 1980s, male artists and white male executives have dominated this sector of the music industry, leaving Black women as the underdogs of the rap scene. The student response to Alabama–based rapper Flo Milli as a headliner for Penn’s 2022 Spring Fling is a harsh reminder that there is much progress to be made in tackling colorism and misogyny in the rap industry.
Dating online has a bad reputation already—the horror stories are endless and only seem to get worse with time. Television and media have illustrated distinctly the potential dangers of meeting a stranger online and getting a meal or a cup of coffee together. Hulu’s newly buzzed–about movie Fresh shows exactly that, in the initial scenes where Daisy Edgar–Jones’ Noa sits down for yet another failed date with yet another misogynistic douchebag. Maybe this feels familiar to you, maybe not, but this scene encapsulates the awkwardness and frankly, contemporary patheticness that revolves around first dates that are definitely not going anywhere.
Dr. Brian Peterson first set foot on Penn's campus in 1989 as an undergraduate student looking to study engineering. More than 30 years later, after earning a master's and Ph.D. from the Graduate School of Education, Peterson is still here. Now the director of Makuu: The Black Cultural Center on campus, as well as a lecturer in the Africana and Urban Studies departments, Peterson reflects on his path with the ever–present realities of race dynamics of our society in mind. In a conversation that began on the tail end of Black History Month but remains perennially relevant, Peterson sheds light on Makuu, Penn's impact on the greater Philadelphia community, and how we as a university reflect difficult truths about our nation.
Social media apps dominate college campuses. They act as methods for students to connect and share memes, struggles, personal antidotes, and anything else that crosses their mind. But a new generation of social media apps are embracing anonymity—from Snapchat to Yik Yak, apps are embracing the unseen. Most recently, a new app called Sidechat is making waves in the anonymous app space, blowing up on college campuses across the nation—but what exactly is it?
Name: Mary Sadallah
When I watched clips of Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation hearings, I first took note of her calm way of responding to the Republican senators’ tricky questioning, a familiar experience for Black women dealing with white peers or superiors. And like many other Black women, I also took note of her hair.
The rumors are true: It's officially Short King Spring. While men often flaunt or even lie about tall heights on dating apps and women who are attracted to men generally regard height as an important factor in their relationship decisions, a new trend—celebrating shorter men—might be changing the dating scene.
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