Category: Uncategorized

Parktown: Olson Park, Part 2

Sam 1 Comment

Olson Park, North Campus

For this week I wanted to emphasize how much the landscape changes during this time of year. Taken at the same time of day in Olson Park, the foliage has begun to fall, the tall grass has browned, and the sky is overcast. However, life still persists right beside the trail and into the forest. This time of year marks the loss of summer abundance, yet there remains a beauty to be seen in the grays and the browns of dormant flora. One of my guiding principles for this blog is to capture Ann Arbor as we see it through its transition into different stages of life. Beauty can be found at every stage. Rather, it is more subtle at times and comes to you with a deeper appreciation of diversity of a fall or winter landscape.

I look forward to the leaves falling further.

 

This image was taken on 11/9/21.

 

 

The Poetry Snapshot: The Night Shift

nehaallathur Leave a comment

Curtains pulled back to midnight,
And a stage of dancing stars.
Too brief, this autumn light.
Stolen, but never ours.

Meadowbrook Amphitheater

Ours was never a bite
into a crisp apple autumn sky.
A bright, chilled dewy cry.
No.

Ours was the brink of a buoyant horizon,
turned to shade in the blink of an eye.
Tied down by an emerging moon.
For one moment, the pulse in this room ceases,
as the death of day show steals our breath.

Welcome to The Night Shift.
Time drenched in thrifted emotions,
sharing silence in slow motion.
In the midst of darkness,
we create color.

Shadowed vision,
but you catch a broken smile
and words unspoken.
It’s always one touch forward,
but two thoughts back.

In my corner of nightfall
I set down all composure.
I’ve been here before,
been here often.
Moonbeams feel no pressure to enter my window,
for I can navigate transience with my eyes closed.

Scribble #6: Chinese Satellite

Sydney Braun 2 Comments

 

“I’ve been running around in circles, pretending to be myself.”

I had a conversation with my dad this past weekend about how maturity and independence grows exponentially. In the past year and a half since starting college, I have seen this to be very true. Between the pandemic and moving halfway across the country for school, I’ve grown more than I thought was possible in such a short amount of time. I often wish I knew exactly who I am, but I am not even sure exactly who I want to be. This is a lifelong process, I know, and yet I catch myself wishing I could expedite it.

“Why would somebody do this on purpose when they could do something else?”

In Chinese Satellite, Phoebe Bridgers sings about her unsure attitude toward religion and her doubts of an afterlife. To me, this song represents something more: not being sure of who you are and desperately wanting to know how you feel and what you want, while also knowing that there is no way for you to rush this process. 

“Drowning out the morning birds with the same three songs over and over.”

After what feels like far longer than just over two months, I’m finally getting into the routine of in-person college. In another two months, once the new semester begins, some of that routine will change again. Just as I felt like I was getting used to my life here, there is going to be yet another change with the new semester.

“I wish I wrote it, but I didn’t, so I learn the words.”

It will be nice to be home for Thanksgiving – back in the place where I grew up and where routine is easy to fall into. I also know that after a few days I will be more than ready to be back in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where I feel like I am my best version of myself. When I am at school, my potential for growth feels unlimited, both in a daunting and inspirational way, and I miss that feeling whenever I’m gone.

“Hum along ’til the feeling’s gone forever.”

Over the past year and a half, my living situation has changed, my friends have changed, and I have changed. I’m finally getting to a point where I feel more stable, but it is inevitable that something will come along and shake things up again. Change is a special, beautiful thing, for better and for worse. The present is not permanent. Good things pass, but then again, bad things pass, too. For me, it always comes back to the same thing: it all works out, given enough time and the right attitude.

Listen to Chinese Satellite here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV-eEC6XyzA

LOG_004_ECHELON

Traveler Leave a comment

Echelon supersoldier Taiga poses for a recruitment poster.

 

“The Elites of Echelon”

Quincy Takai, 

Published JR-7274-E, 23-10-2977

It’s costly to sustain an interplanetary standing army– thus many world governments turn to private military corporations when conflict boils over. Of these private corporations, some of the top corporations– among them Vanguard, Citadel, and Echelon– have found vast fortunes to be made beyond conventional warfare.

Echelon recruits the cream of the crop, developing those with potential in both combat prowess and charisma into supersoldiers. From day one, Echelon gamifies their soldiers’ performance: each action in training and on the battlefield is assigned an XP value, and as enough XP is earned, unlocks and promotions are granted through this system. On many planets, these supersoldiers are treated as major celebrities, with their battles frequently recorded and broadcast or even livestreamed. The profits from merchandising, external sponsorships, and licensing rights dwarf the money Echelon makes through government contracts.

Fainting In The Duderstadt: A New Approach To Research

Calin Firlit Leave a comment
Image Description: A visual journal entry, featuring my adorable emotional support cat, Poppy. I prefer journaling by drawing, as I think in images more quickly than I do in words. It also helps me to discern my thoughts if I represent them abstractly first.

I’ve always had some level of fatigue and lingering pain, but it’s taken a new form after lockdown ended and the world kept turning like nothing ever happened. Falling asleep while actively having conversation, missing my stop on the bus after dozing off, and thinking I’m awake when I’m actually dreaming (and oversleeping my alarm) have become a quirk to brush off to people that witness it, and a secret to keep from those who haven’t. My body finally gave up on me just over a week ago, when I started blacking out at the library and incoherently called the one person in Ann Arbor I know with a car, begging her to come pick me up. All of my nerves felt like they were on fire. My muscles felt like they were turning to stone. Quickly realizing that this mammoth-sized “inconvenience” could no longer be swept under the rug, I called my dad to ask for advice. He was quiet before telling me that my symptoms are reminiscent of my aunts when she was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. 

I cannot jump to conclusions here, but the prevalent link between chronic conditions like fibromyalgia and ADHD cannot be ignored. In the wake of my little episode, my general physician gave me a referral for blood work, and my psychiatrist referred me to a sleep specialist. I took several COVID-19 PCR tests, all of which were negative. I’ve started the painstakingly slow process of eliminating issues in hopes of finding something — anything — that could help me feel better. 

Naturally, after going off the grid post-library-blackout, the residual “are you alive?” emails started trickling into my inbox, and I started pushing the “I am alive and I am sorry” emails through my outbox. As a result, I was able to schedule a Zoom call with one of my professors who, luckily for me, has a level of expertise in all things mental illness. Towards the end of our long talk about research and swapping stories about living with ADHD, she said something that I have not stopped thinking about since. In response to my dismay over not having a lot of research done for my IP class due to juggling school and health, she said something along the lines of “sometimes, you get to be your own research.” When you are living with the condition that you are creating about, sometimes keeping yourself alive is research in and of itself. Forcing myself through the healthcare system, going through medication change after medication change, and even just finding creative ways to get myself out of bed in the morning is all “research” that inspires my making. 

Pictured here is some visual journaling I did about this idea. I’m slowly unpacking how I am feeling about this past week, instead of pushing my own processing aside for the sake of trying to catch up on what I’ve missed while battling this Goliath symptom. I am taking care of myself. For research purposes, of course.