April 26, 2022

April 26, 2022 | 34st.com

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR On glossy paper, (not) sleeping in the office, and reimagining Street

4

EOTW: Nathaniel Hess

10 Nate Garcia's Zines

T

12

he first piece of advice I got when I came into this job was to never stay overnight in the Stroffice. I was warned that sleeping here would be the telltale sign that work had overtaken my life, and that if it ever happened, I should quit. (Thankfully, it hasn’t.)

The second piece of advice I got was that this would be the most autonomy I’d have over my work for a long time, and that I should take full advantage of it.

And I did. Starting this September, Street will finally be a real, monthly magazine—glossy paper and all.

It’s hard to overstate how proud I am of

Anywhere but Home

16 BLM House

18 Faye Webster

34TH STREET EXECUTIVE BOARD Emily White, Editor–in–Chief: white@34st.com Eva Ingber, Campus Editor: ingber@34st.com Walden Green, Culture Editor: green@34st.com Arielle Stanger, Assignments Editor: stanger@34st. com

34TH STREET STAFF Features Staff Writers: Sejal Sangani, Jiahui (Emilee) Gu, Avalon Hinchman

34TH STREET EDITORS Mira Sydow, Features Editor Meg Gladieux, Features Editor Julia Esposito, Word on the Street Editor Jean Paik, Focus Editor Kira Wang, Style Editor Alana Bess, Ego Editor Evan Qiang, Music Editor Irma Kiss–Barath, Arts Editor Cindy Zhang, Film & TV Editor Andrew Yang, Multimedia Editor Kira Wang, Audience Engagement Editor

Style Beat Writers: Anna Hochman, Naima Small

Focus Beat Writers: Sheil Desai, Connor Nakamura, Sruthi Srinivas

Music Beat Writers: Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Kate Ratner, Samara Himmelfarb Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Emily Maiorano Film & TV Beat Writers: Jacob A. Pollack, Kayla Cotter, Julia Polster Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Vidur Saigal, Grace Busser Staff Writers: Natalia Castillo, Emma Marks, Shahana Banerjee

2

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

this year's board for making such a huge change happen. While it might look like a simple relaunch from the outside, we’ve spent months planning and refining this idea—and it’s finally ready to be put out into the world.

So to all the people who haven’t let me talk their ears off about this for the past four months, allow me to give you a little window into the process of turning this pipe dream into a reality.

We began this semester with focus groups, hoping to get a sense of what our audience wanted: a product that is equal parts tangible and tantalizing, bigger and better stories, and more campus presence. Then I spent months brainstorming and refining the idea—getting feedback from people who currently help make our magazine and some alums who used to. Finally, I presented my findings to the DP’s Executive Board and Board of Directors—spoiler alert: They said yes.

I feel like I’ve said “glossy mag” so many times that it has stopped sounding like real words. But the idea feels more real than it ever has—despite the

Multimedia Associates: Roger Ge, Max Mester, Derek Wong, Andrea Barajas, Rachel Zhang Audience Engagement Associates: Kayla Cotter, Yamila Frej, Vidur Saigal, Caleb Crain, Katherine Han, Emily Xiong, Gemma Hong, Walden Green THIS ISSUE Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Tyler Kliem Photo Courtesy of Bea Forman Cover Design by Lilian Liu

fact that it hasn’t even happened yet.

It’s so rare to be 21 and truly in charge of anything, let alone an entire magazine. And at the risk of sounding too sappy, I’m so proud and honored that I get to be the one to make this change.

I’m certainly not the first person to come up with this idea—I give all my predecessors, especially Beatrice Forman, full credit for inspiring me to reimagine this magazine so dramatically. This also couldn’t have happened without the support of current board, Walden Green, Eva Ingber, Arielle Stanger, and Pia Singh. This was a team project in every way—because autonomy doesn’t mean you have to go at it alone.

Before I conclude, I also want to thank all of you—for reading our content every week, for being interviewed by our writers, for liking our Instagram posts. This magazine truly wouldn’t exist without your support, and I’m so excited for you all to turn this new page with us.

SSSF, Emily

CONTACTING 34TH STREET MAGAZINE If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Emily White, Editor– in–Chief, at white@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com © 2021 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.) All rights reserved.

34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Tuesday.

glossy mag! street, pray, love

WORD ON THE STREET

Holi

How attending my first Penn Holi experience brought me back to my roots | JAY SEKHSARIA

What Taught Me About Home

L

ast semester I was scrolling through Instagram stories when, among the mind–numbing piles of reposts and sports updates, something caught me by surprise—something that triggered a very deep emotional reaction that I couldn't quite explain. Was it a flashy news headline filled with tragedy? A gut– wrenching story about love?

A nihilistic look at the climate crisis?

Nope, none of those things. It was actually a video of one of my friends back home in India, Shaurya, chasing another friend of mine, Vivek, with a stone in his hand, ready to throw.

Meanwhile, Vivek, begging for mercy, ran for his life. As gruesome as that dramatized description sounds, it was surprisingly familiar to me.

We used to do stupid antics like that all day: messing around, pulling stunts, and having a blast.

Illustration by Becky Lee I laughed at that video for five minutes straight, rewatching it. Suddenly, the realization that I wasn't there hit me like a truck. I was 12,655 kilometers away, watching through a tiny screen, in a land where the metric units don't make sense. My amusement vanished, and for the first time I was overwhelmed by this mysterious dread.

I've always thought of myself as distant, from everyone and everything. I thought of sentimental attachments as burdens, waiting to be shed.

I always thought of myself as an outsider. So when I came here, I ignored anything that made me feel different.

The only other times I’ve felt that dread has been when I was laughed at for my accent or ridiculed for not being culturally literate.

I often jokingly describe it like this: "You know you're far from home when your roommate is your emergency

contact."

That dread came and went. It was only when March 2022 rolled around that it sank in once again.

This time the culprit was posts about Holi, the Indian festival of colors, where for one day each year everyone would come together and smear each others' faces with powder. It was messy and borderline chaotic. I loved it. It was that festival that I look forward to all year, eagerly waiting to dunk my friends in the water and show them who’s boss.

I hadn't celebrated Holi in three years. Two of the celebrations had been canceled due to COVID–19. It was in my senior year of high school when Holi got canceled that it hit the hardest. I knew I was going away and it was going to be the last one, and I was left wondering when I'd celebrate again—hopefully in a few years?

Then, the Hindu and Jain

Association and Class Boards announced that they'd be holding a celebration in the spring of 2022.

When I arrived at Holi, I expected a few Indian people to show up, throw a couple of packets of powder here and there, and be done in five minutes. What I found was hundreds of Penn students from all years in—quite possibly, the most diverse group I'd ever seen.

There were performances, music, dancing, and a whole lot of color.

People that I hadn’t seen since New Student Orientation came up to me and wished me happy Holi.

There was Hindi music— the same cliché Holi songs I’d groan at when DJs played them back in India were suddenly my jam. And not just mine—everyone, regardless of whether they understood the language or had even heard about Holi beforehand, was jamming. College

Green became a mosh pit of kaleidoscopic people. It was in that crowd, dancing to cheesy Bollywood music with people I’d never met, that for a brief moment, I felt at home.

In India, every single person I knew was Indian. I’d never really interacted with anyone that didn’t look like me or didn’t grow up in India. So when I came here, I made a conscious decision to interact with people from as many backgrounds as possible.

Everyone, regardless of religion or background, came together to celebrate a festival that I felt so deeply connected with. As cringey and cliché as it sounds, I realized that home isn’t where you are or where you’re from— it’s who you’re with. And if Penn students can smear each others’ faces with color, just like my friends in India, maybe I’m not that far from home after all.

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

3

EGO

NATHANIEL HESS HOMETOWN: Kennett Square, Pa. MAJOR:

Chemical and biomolecular engineering

ACTIVITIES:

Club Ultimate Frisbee Captain, EAS 595 TA

Meet the senior who's swapping his beloved frisbee for a chemical engineering Ph.D. | ANJALI KISHORE

34th STREET: Tell us about ultimate Frisbee. Have you always been involved in the sport and did you plan to be involved before you got here?

NATHANIEL HESS: I knew I wanted to play here because I played Frisbee in high school, so I wanted to pursue ultimate [Frisbee] in college as well. It's a club sport at a lot of high schools in the Northeast, where there's a big Frisbee culture if you can find it. My school had a club team, and I got involved. I thought it was a super fun sport, so I

4

wanted to continue in college and really start playing at a high level.

I joined Penn's team as a [first year], and one of my goals was to have a positive impact on the team. Obviously, some of that was through developing myself and being the best player I could be, but the other aspect of that was trying to inspire the culture of the team and lead well. I was in leadership roles in my sophomore year as a fitness captain and my junior year as a treasurer, and now I've had the opportunity to step into

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

a full–time leadership role as captain.

Some of it is not that great.

It's a lot of logistical work, but on the field, I'm the person who's talking to my team at halftime and telling them between points what we need to do to win and trying to inspire them to play their best. I'm also trying to inspire them to do the work outside of practice and come to practice in the right mindset to succeed during the season.

STREET: For people who might be unfamiliar, could you give us a crash course in

tltimate Frisbee, specifically at Penn?

NH: It's basically a combination of soccer and football with a Frisbee. There's a continuous play style, like football, and you score by catching it in the opposite end–zone. It's seven on seven at any given point, and it's a point structure, so you have to score the equivalent of a touchdown in football, then you go to the next point.

The ultimate structure is pretty strong on campus. We have about 50 to 60 people on the mens' team, and around

50 people on the womens' team. It's a really tight–knit community. Forty of us were in one house for spring break on Myrtle Beach, and we throw parties together. It's a tight–knit club sport community. I'm actually living with six other Frisbee players right now: three people from the women's team, and three from the men's team, who are some of my best friends on campus. It's a good place to make some strong friendships.

I think sports at the college level are really unique because they can create a bond where

EGO

you live with your teammates, eat with them, and go to classes together. It is an interesting and unique experience to go through.

This past weekend, we competed in our conference championships, where we took second [place]. Temple took first, unfortunately. We were ahead eight to four, and lost nine to eleven, so it was a tough championship game. It's a tournament format, where we go for one weekend and play seven or eight games.

STREET: How has being a TA influenced your time here at Penn?

NH: I'm TAing Leadership in Engineering, and I've found myself developing skills that make me a better leader and mentor. One of the career paths I'm considering is going into academia, and some

of the skills I learned in that class when I took it a year ago—which I'm relearning as I'm TAing it—really help me grow as a leader. They have made me see myself potentially as an academic professor or leader in the workforce. I know there's a lot of growth that can happen in your years as a Ph.D. student, whether it's through TAing or interactions with advisors, going to conferences, things like that.

Penn has given me that foundation to develop my leadership through this course I'm TAing, EAS 595.

STREET: What's next for you after Penn?

NH: I'm going for my Ph.D. at Princeton next year also in chemical engineering. I will be studying computation and computational chemistry.

It relates to my major a little.

A lot of chemical engineering is process engineering, and there's only a couple courses on computational chemistry.

How I started down my Ph.D. track was really a pretty interesting story. I was very certain coming into my senior year that I didn't want to get a Ph.D. I just wanted to get a master's degree and then go right into industry, but I didn't really like what I was doing within the internship opportunities that I had. I was planning on getting a master's and then getting a job that I wanted, but I sat down with a professor who I was looking to take a class with and he was just like, “Why are you doing your master’s [degree]? I think a Ph.D. would be so much better for you.” At that point, there were two and a half weeks until the Ph.D. applica-

tion deadline, and I thought, “There's no time, and I don't think I've done enough research at Penn to get into any good schools, and I haven't asked for any letters of recommendation or anything.” We ended up having an hour– and–a–half–long conversation where he was like, “I think you could do it if you really tried to do it.”

It was a two–and–a–half week crunch where I figured out that from the years–worth of research that I had done in junior year, computation was really something that I was interested in because it was the cross–section of computer science and the chemistry [I love]. I took CIS 120, 121, and 160 here. I didn't have time to take all the classes for the full minor, but I took the courses I needed to be familiar

enough to do the coding that's required for computational chemistry.

I managed to get my recommendations and application to Princeton in two and a half weeks, and now I'm getting a Ph.D. Everything is pointing towards that being what I want to do. The visit weekends and the classes I'm taking all confirm this, so I ended up turning down a job offer to go work at Intel in Portland.

I was weighing the job offer with the Ph.D. and, through these conversations I was having, I turned down the job offer and sent out the applications.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

LIGHTNING ROUND STREET: Last song you listened to?

NH: “Heart and Soul” by NBA YoungBoy. STREET: No–skip album?

NH: Wins and Losses by Meek Mill.

STREET: If you were to describe yourself as a building on campus, which would it be and why?

NH: Towne. There's a lot going on inside of it, but on the outside it just looks like a run–down building.

STREET: There are two types of people at Penn …

NH: People who go to Allegro after parties and people who don't.

STREET: And you are?

NH: After parties I usually like to just go to bed.

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

5

OPEN LATE & LATE NITE DELIVERY

R LOOKING FMOE WORK? TI T R A P R O L FUL NG! I R I H E R ’ E W .com s o n i m o d . s job

Domino’s Dom

TM

SUN-THURS: 10AM - 2AM • FRI & SAT 10AM - 3AM

WE MAKE ORDERING EASY!

CALL DIRECT OR CHOOSE YOUR ONLINE OR MOBILE DEVICE

Smart Phones

215-662-1400

4438 Chestnut St. 6

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

Tablets

215-557-0940 401 N. 21st St.

FILM & TV

A Multifaceted Multiverse: Daniels' 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' Led by Michelle Yeoh’s incredible performance, 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' is a bittersweet family drama that also happens to be a multiverse movie. | JACOB A. POLLACK

F

or the past few weeks, one multiverse movie, where the fate of all universes is actually at stake, has been receiving more hype and acclaim than anything else out there. Led by an internationally recognized star, it’s flashy, making big bucks, and includes a fair amount of CGI. I’m talking, of course, about Everything Everywhere All at Once, although I did hear about some small, obscure Marvel multiverse film coming out soon, too.

Yes, if there’s one movie centered on the multiverse—a concept where an infinite number of parallel universes exist— it’s got to be Everything Everywhere All at Once. It’s tough to pinpoint exactly what this movie is; it’s fun, weird, loving, tender, epic, devastating—did I mention weird? It’s much easier to say what this movie isn’t: unoriginal. There’s never been a movie like Everything Everywhere All at Once, a multiverse movie with a bonkers storyline, yet one that's still centered on universal family issues and firm in its creative vision.

It’s best to go into Everything Everywhere All at Once knowing as few spoilers as possible to maximize the moviegoing experience. But it might be helpful to have some background on the characters and settings before the movie begins hurling through parallel universes at the speed of light.

Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh), who was disowned by her father for leaving China with her husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan), now lives an often– stressful, mostly underwhelming life running a laundromat

in America. But the laundromat isn’t what stresses Evelyn out the most—it’s her family. Evelyn’s elderly father (James Hong) has come to America to celebrate his birthday, Waymond is filing for divorce, and Evelyn is struggling to deal with her daughter Joy’s (Stephanie Hsu) angst and sexuality. Not much epic about it, right?

off to a glamorous martial arts movie star (which shouldn't have been too much of a reach for Yeoh, who is one herself ). There are dozens of universes other than the main one where we first meet Evelyn and, unfortunately, we only get a sparingly quick time with most. To travel through the multiverse, the

a tender–yet–complicated mother–daughter story like Lady Bird. Frankly, the greatest multiverse aspect is the blending of dozens of genres, rather than of universes. All of these genres and storylines cohere into the theme of family being the most important part of our lives.

What holds Everything Ev-

characters in the film must say or do the strangest actions to “verse–jump,” which range from sexual to absurd.

This strangeness shouldn’t be a surprise from directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (also known as Daniels), as their past film, Swiss Army Man, had Harry Potter himself (Daniel Radcliffe) play a farting, flatulent corpse.

Despite the wacky and wonderful spectacles, this film is a family drama at its core. At times, it’s a marital drama like Marriage Story or

erywhere All at Once through its occasionally confusing plot points are the stellar performances. The main actors really get to showcase their acting chops here, as they play dozens of versions of themselves, all of whom are uniquely different from each other. Already one of the greatest actresses of her generation, Yeoh delivers a career– defining performance that is insanely charismatic, graceful, and endearing. Quan, a child star in the 1980s, makes his return as an actor in this film,

Illustration by Lilian Liu But fear not, the film really kicks into high gear when Evelyn, Waymond, and Evelyn’s father visit an IRS officer (Jamie Lee Curtis) at her building, as Evelyn’s business is being audited. From there, a version of her husband from a parallel universe appears and tells Evelyn that she’s the only person who can save the universe. What follows is what you’d expect in an excellent multiverse movie: seamless travel through alternate versions of Evelyn’s life, which range from a Ratatouille spin–

where he bounces effortlessly between being the comedic relief to the tragic and somber husband. But my favorite performance has to be Hsu’s Joy, who plays most of the badass characters in the film. She portrays Joy with a vulnerability that perfectly matches that of a Gen–Z adult who’s struggling to understand their identity and be accepted by their family. Joy and Evelyn’s relationship is a beautiful example of many rocky parent– child relationships: Despite the arguments and quarrels, everything is done out of love.

As much as this seems like a rave review, there were issues with this complex film. Given its running time of two hours and 12 minutes, the movie feels long. It’s particularly sluggish toward the end, where the Daniels could’ve easily cut 20 minutes. The ending, despite how insane most events throughout the movie are, is quite simple and predictable once the multiverse concepts come into play. I even started to doze off by the end because the third act felt more like everything, everywhere, for an eternity.

Even with its flaws, it’s impossible to not marvel at the cinematic achievements of this film. It’s rare to see such a fleshed–out original film, certainly one that’s making lots of money by arthouse film standards. So please, when Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is sold out or just playing in theaters, consider watching this multiverse movie instead. I promise you, Everything Everywhere All at Once is better.

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

7

FOCUS

The Free Library of Philadelphia: A Vital Institution Worth Defending Ongoing activism to fund the Free Library is a fight for both resources and community. | CONNOR NAKAMURA

O

n your stroll to Hip City Veg or Saxby’s, it’s hard to miss the building at the corner of 40th and Walnut.

Boasting a clean white brick facade with the “The Free Library of Philadelphia” etched over the door, the Walnut Street West Library is a staple in the West Philadelphia community. Penn students are certainly familiar with libraries—whether it’s finishing up your Spanish homework in Van Pelt, or working through a problem set in Fisher Fine Arts. But the public library is just as noteworthy as any college library and remains a vital part of any community.

The Friends of the Free Library of Philadelphia is an organization that wants people to get excited about their local libraries. Individual chapters around the city plan p r o gram-

ming events for their local branches, such as hosting egg hunts for Easter or inviting Penn Lions to their Lunar New Years celebrations.

These chapters function under a citywide organization that advocates for the continued success of the Free Library system.

While Friends of the Free Library is enthusiastic about everything the library has to offer, they also want to bring attention to how underfunded these institutions are. Due to severe staffing shortages, around one in s e v e n

Philadelphia libraries can’t fully open for their full hours each day. Very few branches are open past 6 p.m., and currently, no branches are open on the weekends— making libraries inaccessible to many working people and their families.

In response to these citywide issues, Friends of the Free Library is calling for a $30 million increase in

the annual Free Library budget. With this increased budget, libraries around the city will be able to hire more staff, keeping libraries open for longer with more consistent hours. The organization has recently gained the support of several city council members and is approaching the mayor with their demands.

Linda Colwell–Smith, interim co–director of Friends of the Free Library, firmly believes that public libraries are worth funding.

She says that

Illustration by Amy Krimm 8

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

Philadelphia ​​ “[has] an absolute gem of a system” and that at her local branch of the Torresdale library, people of all ages use the library as a meeting place.

Sabirah Mahmud (C '25) grew up in Philadelphia and regularly visited the Walnut Street West Library. She recalls many positive experiences there, from renting The Princess Diaries to learning how to play competitive chess. “I think the Free Library has always been really important, in the sense that it's provided a free alternative to a lot of programming that's often barred because of finances,” Sabirah says.

Libraries are special, as they’re one of the

FOCUS

few spaces that are open to everyone, regardless of background or ability to pay. Accessibility is the name of the game at the Free Library, and branches also provide free tutoring through the LEAP After School Program, which is open to any of the students in the area. Colwell–Smith says that before COVID–19, there would be around 50 kids coming to the library after school to get help with their homework.

Libraries in Philadelphia are one of the few options for kids to access free extracurricular activities. The slashing of government programs has affected many departments in recent years, including schools and other programs dedicated for children. Alice Wells, president of the Friends of the Street Walnut West Library, points out that many of the libraries in elementary, middle, and high schools around Philadelphia remain closed.

“The doors are closed … the books are gathering dust and getting old and nobody's looking at them … We live in potentially a library desert as far as schools are concerned,” Wells says.

This unfortunate reality highlights the necessity of the Free Library to stay open consistently. “When the city libraries are closed unexpectedly and you can't count on them to be open when you get there, it really does become a library desert,” Wells says. Kids shouldn’t have to wonder if their local library is going to be open after school, or if they have to wait until Monday to borrow a book they have their eye on.

The public can only benefit when libraries are open on a consistent schedule and have enough staff members to meet the needs of community members.

Teenagers also regularly spend time at the Free Library as a safe space away

from their parents and schools. Henry McDaniel (C '25) grew up in Philadelphia, visiting the Free Library throughout his life. “It was certainly a place where I felt at home, and it was a good way to interact with the community,” Henry says. In high school, he heard about a music composition workshop on social media and attended a session at the main branch of the Free Library. Now at Penn, he’s taking a class with the same instructor who taught that workshop, furthering his passion for music.

Librarians want to design programs that cater to the community’s interests so that everyone feels welcome at the library. Colwell–Smith talks about their many successful programs aimed at young people, with an “anime club” being especially popular at her Torresdale branch. “We actually had an anime artist come in. And it was all preteens and teenagers learning to [draw] anime. And then we put out a little booklet towards the end of some of their stuff,” she says. Stories like this ring true at library branches throughout the city, with teenagers seeking out the library as a place where they can exercise their newfound independence and explore programs and activities that interest them.

Many adults also come to Colwell–Smith's local library to use the computers or ask the librarians for advice. “We provide a lot of job assistance for folks looking for jobs, [and] a lot of help with taxes,” she says. “The IRS forms and the booklets, you can't get them anywhere anymore, you have to get them online.

A lot of folks just don't know how to do that or they're not very computer literate. And that's what we're here to help them with.” Colwell–Smith emphasizes that one of the library’s core purposes is to

make information accessible to the general public.

Librarians play a key role in making sure libraries remain welcoming places. But with the lack of library funding, it’s becoming more difficult for them to do their jobs.

Wells points out that libraries are often wrongly assumed to be a merely quiet and calm space. “It really isn't,” she says. “You're dealing with the public, you're dealing with staff. It's a tough job,” she says. Wells points out the fact that many libraries are understaffed and each branch should ideally have a children’s, teen/adult, and managing librarian in order to fully meet the needs of their community.

Friends of the Free Library’s ongoing advocacy has been focused on highlighting the lack of funding set aside for librarians, and the immense benefits that more resources would bring. One of their main actions has been “storytime” rallies around the city,

where they invite families to come out for “stories, songs, snacks, city budgets information, and petitions to Mayor Kenney.” At one of these rallies, Wells describes how a librarian led an interactive lesson on the city budget, utilizing a felt board with icons depicting different city departments such as parks and recreation and the police.

Underneath these icons were little green squares that represented a portion of the city budget. Kids were able to see a visual representation of how underfunded libraries are, and voiced their opinions by moving more green squares to their beloved libraries.

Friends of the Free Library encourages supporters to utilize their toolkit to find ways to post on social media, contact city council members, and attend future events.

Despite ongoing challenges, Colwell–Smith is hopeful about the future of the campaign. “The campaign has been absolutely astounding.

The enthusiasm of city council, the general public, our friends members—it's been great,” she says.

Both Colwell–Smith and Wells acknowledge that Philadelphia has gone through a rough last decade, with both the 2008 financial crisis and the COVID–19 pandemic contributing to the decrease in the Free Library’s budget.

But it’s clear that Philadelphians are passionate about their libraries and demand more support for these essential services. Colwell–Smith notes that the summer is a critical time for libraries to be fully available to the public. “I know we're going to have a lot of families looking for something to do with their kids,” she says. “And we're free. You don't have to pay to come in to see us, you don't have to buy anything to sit and read a book with your child or look for yourself. That's what we're here for.”

Virtual Tours Available!

Complimentary Shuttle Pet Friendly Availability Laundry On-Site Steps from Campus 24/7 Emergency Maintenance Reliable Customer Service

NOW LEASING STUDIO - 6 BEDROOM APARTMENTS & HOUSES

Limited Time Only: FREE RENT ON 3+ BEDROOM LEASES Sign Today. Move In Tomorrow

TEXT US: (484) 998-0708

*Restrictions Apply

4104 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA 19104 (215) 839-3518 | LiveAtUCA.Com APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

9

ARTS

Make Comics and Don't Give a Fuck:

In Conversation with Nate Garcia Meet the 19–year–old, self–made adult comic artist who likes cowboys in sneakers and hates superheroes. | MIRA SYDOW

N

a fuck.

I’m sitting on the shredded hardwood floor of his West Philadelphia apartment, trying to take in the flashes of color and the sound of art utensils hitting the ground as they fall haphazardly from his desk. Nate lounges a few feet away in a low rolly chair at a wide, slanted desk, littered with hundreds of pages of sketches, notes, and inked strips. He is unassuming—face framed with thick, black glasses and shaggy brown hair, and he speaks in a low, lazy tone, like he’s discovering his backstory as he puts it into words.

His work, however, is anything but unnoticeable. Vibrant illustrations spill over the top of his workspace, original pages from his zines hang precariously from a bulletin board, and copies of his latest book line the wall in his makeshift bedroom–studio.

Nate is a 19–year–old Puerto Rican artist, adult comic sensation, guitarist in the underground Philly band scene, and “obese, probably, according to doctors.” He tells snappy, colorful stories inspired by his own life and imprints them on the page, from awkward dinners to cold–blooded murder to pierogi sex. “Comics is about paper. It’s about reading in your brain,” he tells me.

Nate grew up in Allentown, Pa., reading graphic novels like Bone (really anything except superhero comics). His first–grade teacher thrilled her class with stories of her roommates, cat, and ex–boyfriends, which felt like the stuff of comics Nate wanted to

Illustration by Lilian Liu

ate Garcia lives by a simple creed: Make comics, and don’t give

be reading. She tucked booklets of stapled computer paper into his folder to take home, and he brought back illustrated moments from her life—her cat even got a spin–off series.

“All these kids were confused as fuck, but I would just make zines about each story,” Nate says. “She still has them all, I’m too afraid to ask for them back.”

Nate always knew he wanted to make comics full–time, but he didn’t have the opportunity until the pandemic hit. Early in 2020, he was working at a cash–only hot dog place in his hometown for scraps, serving a never–ending stream of “old people … coming up giving me their dirty pennies for a hot dog.” After a few untenable months, he quit.

Nate’s mom has multiple sclerosis, and he wasn’t about to risk exposing her to COVID–19. He made more money on unemployment, anyway.

Nate moved to West Philly later that year to study at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts but quickly dropped

10 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

out (“I actually unenrolled before school this semester started, but it does sound cooler to say dropped out,” Nate quips). He remembers totaling up the cost of attendance and deciding that he was better off pursuing art on his own. Now, he spends long days as a caricature artist at the Philadelphia Zoo and nights hunched over his drawing desk or playing shows with his band, Attack Dog, whose music is “really loud, dirty, and kinda fun.”

Nate says the Zoo is a fun topic. “The people come, and they say, ‘Don’t draw me fat.’ I say, ‘Okay,’” he explains. “I draw them, not fat. They say, ‘It doesn’t look like me.’ I say, ‘That’s because you’re a fat bitch.’”

He breaks off, chuckling. No doubt, this story will end up in the pages of a zine if it hasn’t already.

Pulling the bright volume from his spinning rack of comics, Nate shows me his latest book, the chaotic masterpiece Muscle Horse, which features Alanzo Sneak, a profane cowboy who

wears sneakers instead of cowboy boots.

Nate does everything himself.

He starts with a sketch, pulled from the growing list of ideas on scraps of loose–leaf paper tucked inside his notebook. He does one pass to make the strip funnier, then outlines with cheap pens.

“I’ll never in my life draw on a fucking iPad,” Nate says. “I just use disposable pens—I kill the Earth every day.”

Nate draws a page per day. He flips over some sketches on his desk, revealing lopsided columns of writing scribbled in dark ink.

“I use the back of every page as a diary because I can never keep a diary,” he explains.

The writing on the other side of the page is his, as well. Nate hand–letters each of his stories, although he says most artists just make a font of their handwriting. “I can never use a font in my comics. I would rather die,” Nate opines. “That’s the human touch.” When a publisher reached out to sell his work in France, Nate wrote the

whole zine again in French. He’s smartened up since then—artists rarely do their own lettering for works sold in other countries at risk of fumbling the translation—but for French and English, “I just did the whole thing myself like a fucking psycho.”

After inking, Nate colors the pages in Photoshop. Once he’s drawn and colored a full volume, he has a friend put together a PDF of the final zine. “I don’t know how to make a fucking PDF. I need to learn,” he adds. Nate has always self–published, but he used to put the zines together himself, spending hours stapling the final products before he connected with printers who sped up his process.

“It’s just stapled paper. That’s my favorite thing,” Nate says, running his hand over the seam.

A few years ago, Nate sold maybe 20 copies of his work to friends and family. Now, he’s shipping out hundreds to indie comic stores across the country, and his work is sold in France, Germany, and the United Kingdom. The reason? Instagram, a fact Nate both detests and reserves a begrudging admiration for.

He started posting finished comics on his Instagram, @nategarciascartoons, in April or May of 2021. Before then, he put up sketches and occasional promotional materials, but “nobody wants to see that.” Since switching to full–color series, his popularity has skyrocketed—Nate has over 7,000 followers.

“Instagram is very much a part of how I pay my rent, which is very fucked,” he remarks.

Nate posts webcomics in a format he calls “swipe comics,”

ARTS

Photo Courtesy of Andrew Yang sets of ten frames of illustrations.

He’s not the biggest fan of Instagram—he much prefers paper media—but he enjoys when commenters theorize about the narrative arc of his work and character relationships in real time.

Gesturing to his desk, Nate shows me an installment of his current webcomic, "Gecko," in which Alanzo Sneak accidentally steps on a gecko and kills it, then dines at a restaurant owned by geckos. I ask him what inspired

his latest stroke of creative genius.

“My sister had a gecko and she fucking killed it with her foot,” Nate says, breaking into a grin.

“She was like, ‘This is the only thing that made me feel like I could be a mom,’ then she stood up from the couch and 'crunch.'

That motherfucker died so quick.”

He adds that the gecko vet told them that the gecko was actually going to die anyway because it was malnourished, and that his sister “goes through these pets like

underwear.” Nate is magnetic, and the story is edgy and twisted—I can’t stop listening.

Riding his newfound internet stardom—in–part due to the popularity of Muscle Horse, which started as a webcomic—Nate went on a tour of indie comic stores across the Northeast earlier this year. “I emailed a shit ton of shops, thinking that maybe one would say yes,” Nate says. “I didn’t realize that these shops want to have events.”

He took off work from the Zoo and rode Greyhound buses to Columbus, Oh., as well as Hudson, New York City, and Buffalo in New York. The tour leveled up Nate’s career and served as an opportunity to connect with other indie comic artists, which are few and far between. “Everybody knows everybody,” Nate explains. “Comics is so overpowered by mainstream comics like Marvel and DC, but [small artists] care about the art form, not just trying to make movies.”

At each stop on his tour, Nate projected a scene from Muscle Horse for a reading, then signed copies of his work for tasteful customers. “It’s basically like five minutes of me moaning into a microphone with a PowerPoint presentation,” he says. “It’s really fun.”

Back in Philly, amid the mold, rodents, and water damage of his creaky apartment, Nate reflects on the corner of the city that’s allowed him to pursue this incomprehensible existence. “I’m madly in love with this place,” he says. “A lot

of stuff that happened to me here ends up in a comic, and it’s only stuff that can happen here.”

I ask how he can continue creating at breakneck speed— especially in the highly scrutinized environment of social media. He lapses into silence for a moment. Then: It takes recognizing that “nobody gives a fuck about you, because no one should give a fuck about you except yourself.”

When he walks me down three flights of stairs to the exit of his building, showing me how the banister shakes to the touch, I review my notes: Nate is weird and obnoxiously talented and says “fuck” a lot. He has awkward meals at places where fries already come on the side, hates the creative medium that pays his rent, and loves the touch of fresh paper. He tells stories masterfully and effortlessly.

“It’s out of love, it’s out of obsession, and I have this obligation to do it for myself,” Nate says firmly. And I realize that he gives more fucks than anyone else in the world.

Photo Courtesy of Andrew Yang

WEDNESDAYS 1/2 PRICE BURGERS 11:30AM - 4PM

SATURDAY & SUNDAY BRUNCH | 11:30AM - 3PM BLOODY MARYS & MIMOSAS 11:30AM - 2PM 40th & Spruce St., University City • 215-382-1330 • copauc.com APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 11

F E AT U R E

F E AT U R E

ANYWHERE BUT HOME

Penn’s housing services promise students a 'home away from home.' But for some, that promise is broken under the strain of complicated roommate situations and College House policies. | KIRA WANG

1 2 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

on–campus housing, Penn recently instituted a two–year on–campus housing requirement to foster campus connectedness. CHAS is meant to “develop smaller, intimate communities that students call home.”

But despite these promises, I didn’t have an on–campus home for almost four months.

With 10% of students in four–year– colleges reporting that they’ve couch surfed due to an unstable living situation and two percent reporting that they’ve lived in a hotel or motel with no permanent home, it seems that my situation was anything but unique on college campuses. And at Penn, it’s all too common an experience within the College House system.

Kris* (E '25), who requested anonymity for fear of retaliation from his current roommate, was seated in an empty practice room when we first spoke. As he told his story, he pulled out a note on his phone to collect his thoughts.

Prior to starting his first year at Penn, he requested a double and was moved into Riepe College House in the Quad with his first roommate. His first roommate was incredibly clean and they had a cordial relationship—but his roommate detested the Quad to the point where he would shower at Hill College House, causing him to not be in the dorm often. According to Kris, “Everything was nice and ordinary” until his first roommate decided to move out in November.

Things went from “nice and ordinary” to deeply uncomfortable very quickly.

After his first roommate moved out, Kris received an email from Residential Services that stated they’d offered the vacancy in his room to another student. Per Residential Services’ website, the student had 48 hours to accept or decline the offer in writing. But after

Illustration by Lilian Liu

From study lounges to computer labs to permanent rooms, this map depicts the different places Michael and Christopher have slept.

Christopher: The Quad, Stouffer College House, Gregory College House Michael: The Quad, Kings Court College House, Stouffer College House 48 hours passed, the potential roommate hadn’t responded to the email yet, and Kris was under the impression that he’d be living alone for the time being.

Yet, after nearly two weeks, he received another email stating that his potential roommate had accepted the room

change offer, outside of the aforementioned 48–hour window.

Through both my own and Kris’ experiences, it appears that Residential Services’ generosity is unevenly applied to different students. Kris received an email on Nov. 4 stating that his new

roommate failed to accept the room change offer, but he soon received another email on Nov. 15 stating that his new roommate would be moving in four days later. While Kris’ new roommate could move into his new room even after he initially declined the of-

fer, my requests to move out were consistently denied because my first email to Residential Services was sent three days after the room change period closed.

Kris describes his new roommate as the “messiest person [he’s] ever met.”

anything for [him].”

Despite CHAS claiming that the Quad was near capacity when he inquired about moving elsewhere, Kris has seen at least ten empty rooms in the Quad. While he’s been told that some of the empty rooms are for emergency purposes—in what Kris speculated to be situations such as rat infestations and health concerns—the state of his room is so unhygienic to the point where he’d “rather live with a rat. It’s probably more sanitary.”

To cope with the stench, Kris tries to avoid his dorm except to sleep, staying out of his room from the time he wakes up to around midnight every day. From hanging out in lounges to doing work in nearby study areas, Kris goes from place to place so that he doesn’t have to be in his room. “I don’t want to study in my room. I don’t want to stay in there,” he says.

When asked to comment about Kris’ experience, Kozuma wrote in an email, “If issues arise when a new roommate moves into a space, [CHAS] will work with the roommates to resolve the matter. The RA team and House Staff can act as resources in these situations.” But despite Kris signing the roommate agreement and having numerous conversations with his RA, he still feels like it’s not enough.

Reflecting on his experience, Kris feels frustrated that his requests to move elsewhere haven’t been accommodated by CHAS and Residential Services. While he never directly reached out to Residential Services due to the expectation that talking to his RA would have led to greater intervention from administration, he believes that both CHAS and Residential Services should’ve moved him into different housing. “I think it’s been past the point where they should accommodate me in some way. Something needs to happen … I feel like Residential Services did fail me.”

"I feel like Residential Services did fail me."

—KRIS 11

10

I

napped in the basement of Van Pelt Library. I ate in the Biotech Commons. I cried in Harrison College House’s 23rd floor lounge. And once this almost nomadic daily routine concluded, I started panicking about where I inevitably needed to go next—my old Rodin apartment.

After a conflict with my two roommates in early November, I felt increasingly unsafe in my supposed home.

From my roommates banging on walls to verbally harassing me, I could only exist in my apartment when they were asleep. I called friends to feel safe whenever I had to enter the common space and slept on their couches on particularly tough nights. Every day, I left my apartment at 8 a.m. and returned at 2 a.m. the following morning. Mentally burnt out and physically exhausted, I decided to contact Penn Residential Services. It was Nov. 22—three days past the room change timeframe—but I needed to figure out how to finally move out of my apartment. Despite an incessant and increasingly frantic string of calls and emails, I wasn’t allowed to move out until the next room change timeframe—Feb. 11, continuing to endure the constant sense of insecurity in the nearly–four–month wait.

Housing at Penn is managed by two organizations: Penn Residential Services and College Houses & Academic Services (CHAS). Penn Residential Services oversees the room change process and room assignments, while CHAS manages roommate issues, the Resident Advisors (RA) team, and residential programming. In an email from Hikaru Kozuma, the Executive Director of CHAS, he writes that Residential Services and CHAS work together to provide temporary spaces for students who need them within the College Houses.

Penn Residential Services claims to offer a “home away from home.” In spite of the estimated $11,754 yearly cost of

He now wanted to file a room change request, but based on his negative experiences with his second roommate, Kris wanted to live in a single room.

He was concerned about incompatible living styles and potentially intruding into someone else’s living space in the same way that his second roommate did to him—but the Residential Services website told him that there were no more singles available. An email from Residential Services confirmed that on campus, there is "an occupancy rate of 96 to 98%." Kris speaks of his initial reaction: “I was like, ‘Okay, I’ll suck it up,’" he says. "I waited. It got worse this semester.”

Despite incidents such as his roommate leaving out a half–filled carton of milk for multiple weeks and disruptively taking calls at 4:45 a.m., Kris believes that the worst part of his shared dorm is the stench. “I have four windows open right now. The room smells terrible …

I’ve [been told by friends] that it’s ‘unlivable.’ They were nearly gagging. They [said] they couldn’t live there. [They told me] it smells like the wet socks of a wet dog.”

As his living situation worsened, Kris decided to speak to his RA, who sent him a roommate agreement in the hope of establishing boundaries and living expectations. “Yeah, that doesn’t do shit,” he laughs. After the roommate agreement failed to alleviate these issues, he spoke to his RA again, who then talked to Riepe’s house director and their supervisor, both of whom work under CHAS. The supervisor told him that they were nearly at maximum capacity, and explained that there was no possible place to move to within the Quad. The Riepe house director declined to comment, stating, "Any matters that involve students are private and cannot be discussed." Kris says that they told him to essentially “suck it up, and that Penn Residential couldn’t do

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 13

F E AT U R E

Just like Kris, Michael* (C '25) feels that his experience with CHAS and Residential Services has been unaccommodating and bureaucratic. Originally living with a roommate in Fisher–Hassenfeld College House in the Quad, Michael was unable to go to sleep due to his roommate’s snoring. Despite both him and his roommate trying numerous tactics such as reaching out to a physician to solve the roommate’s snoring and Michael buying different kinds of earplugs, the snoring went unresolved.

Michael’s sleep was disrupted in the process, causing him to sleep for only one to six hours every night. With his stress exacerbated by a heavy course load, he found himself reaching out to Residential Services to find an “instant solution.”

But Residential Services told him that if he wanted to move, he would have to wait for the room change period to begin—which wouldn't happen for another two weeks.

Michael submitted his room change application “the second that it was opened” in mid–September.

The long wait between submitting his application and receiving a room change offer from Residential Services was frustrating. In late September, two weeks after his application was submitted, Michael sent an email inquiring about the status of his request. He stated that there was an empty room across from his current room, and that he would be willing

to leave his residential program in order to move out of his dorm.

Residential Services responded that their office was still processing room changes, and that these rooms were likely empty for “maintenance or other reasons.”

In spite of these open rooms that remained uninhabited for vague and unexplained reasons, Michael had to sleep in the Fisher computer lounge and other lounges near his room. Sometimes, he even illicitly slept in the aforementioned unfilled rooms in the Quad, “carrying [his] blanket, pillow, and bed sheets” to each new location. Getting a good night's sleep meant being transient.

A week after this response in early October, Michael followed up with Residential Services, saying that “my head feels as if it’s about to explode from the consistent lackluster sleep,” and requested that his preferences on the room change form be expanded so that he could live “anywhere quiet.” Residential Services denied his request to update his preferences. After another five days, Michael sent a second follow–up email out of desperation. “Please, tell me what I should do. What have I done wrong to end up here? I don't understand. I really don't. Tell me what to do.”

As I read the emails Michael sent to Residential Services and CHAS, I thought of the frantic emails I sent over the

14 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

course of nearly four months.

I began to recall Residential Services’ robotic response of “I empathize with your current rooming situation” that ignored my anxieties and the unhelpful responses that did nothing to remove me from my dangerous apartment.

Despite the complicated emotions that reading Michael’s emails invoked, what alarmed me most of all was that I still knew exactly how he felt when he sent that email, even two months after I moved out of my old apartment—tired, panicked, and isolated.

I thought I moved past my formerly unsafe housing situation. But the feelings that Michael’s emails brought forth made me realize the permanent impact that unstable housing and Penn’s apathetic bureaucracy have on students.

While the feelings of fear and isolation that came with my displacement may fade, these feelings would never disappear. They would remain forever.

During this same time period, Michael was moved between three temporary rooms over the course of two weeks— two in Stouffer College House and one in Ware College House.

Despite denying his request to expand his room change preferences five days earlier, Residential Services’ Occupancy Coordinator Miranda Stewart responded to this second follow–up by advising him to expand his room change pref-

erences, which she said could be updated in the following week. She also told him that his house director, his RA, Student Health Service (SHS), and Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS) could act as resources to help him cope with his living situation.

“What can I do? I just want to sleep at night,” Michael responded in an email. “I have been sleeping at computer lounges and other locations these past nights in hopes of getting even a lick of sleep.”

He received no response.

Michael didn’t receive his room change offer until mid– October, nearly a month after his original request. The new room was in Kings Court English College House (KCECH), but unluckily, his new roommate snored “even louder than the first [roommate].” To cope with the noise, he turned to sleeping in KCECH’s computer lounge.

“I think the Fisher computer lounge is a lot more comfortable than KCECH’s computer lounge,” he says. “I got desperate, to say the least.”

After sending another email to Residential Services, he was moved permanently to a single in Stouffer. However, after being moved to this single in Stouffer, the rooms within his section were flooded due to a pipe issue. He had to move one more time to another room in Stouffer.

Overall, Michael has lived in seven different official rooms at Penn, not counting his vari-

ous other makeshift bedroom spaces such as the Fisher computer lounge, the empty rooms in Fisher, and the KCECH computer lounge.

According to clinical psychologist and professor at Penn’s Department of Psychiatry Dr. Philip Gehrman, an ideal sleeping situation is when your bedroom acts as a “comfortable place” for you to go.

Bedrooms should be safe, comfortable, and predictable—and knowing where you’re going to sleep every night is essential for mental health.

Gehrman says that humans need spaces where they can retreat to for relaxation and security, as uncertainty surrounding sleeping spaces will increase anxiety, impact mood, and negatively affect mental health.

“You could certainly end up with this downward spiral where housing displacement is causing stress and lack of sleep … I’d say anxiety in particular would be one of the most likely consequences of [housing displacement], but then that anxiety could further worsen sleep, stress levels, and academic performance,” Gehrman explains.

When asked about how his sleep deprivation impacted his academics and social life, Michael says, “I wanted to do so much more my first semester.

But being sleep deprived and moving everything around made it really difficult.” Specifically, he recalls that his sleep deprivation caused him

F E AT U R E

"The number of moves should be as limited as possible, because each move can be very disruptive." ­—DR. DENNIS CULHANE, THE DANA AND ANDREW STONE CHAIR IN POLICY AT THE SCHOOL OF SOCIAL POLICY & PRACTICE

to misread numbers on weekly math quizzes and made his five–class course load “even more difficult than it needed to be.”

Dr. Dennis Culhane, the Dana and Andrew Stone Chair in Social Policy at Penn’s School of Social Policy & Practice, further emphasizes the continuing repercussions of Michael’s seven moves.

“One of the main impacts of housing instability is that it’s a threat to one’s ontological security. [Ontological security is] one’s sense of self in the context of a secure social and physical environment, which is home, for most of us,” he says. Culhane explains that having a place to relax, experience relationships, and set goals is fundamental to growth and healthy development— and all of this is threatened by an unstable housing situation.

Similar to Michael, Tianhao “Christopher” Luo (C '25) has been moved into five different rooms this semester. But unlike Michael, throughout his moving experience, Christopher found Residential Services to be helpful.

During a trip to New York City over spring break, he received an email that told him that a pipe broke and flooded his dorm in Stouffer, damaging his possessions on the floor.

While he filed reimbursement requests to compensate for his water–damaged possessions, Christopher still hasn’t heard back about the status of his request as of April 2022.

Residential Services soon moved him into another dorm in Stouffer, which had water

damage from the same burst pipe. After this discovery, he was moved into a temporary double room in Ware College House in the Quad.

In an email, Christopher requested that he be permanently relocated to the temporary room he was living in, saying that he was “tired of constantly moving in and out.”

Residential Services denied this request, as the temporary room he was living in “serves a necessary purpose in residential building operations.”

They then moved him into a permanent room that was also in Ware.

Compared to his rooms in Stouffer and his temporary room in Ware, his new room had significant street noise and the floor was in bad condition.

Christopher asked to be moved back into Stouffer, but was told that there were no more single rooms in that College House.

However, Michelle Majeski, the building administrator for Gregory College House, Harnwell College House, and Stouffer, found Christopher another alternative: a single room in Gregory, which he happily accepted. When asked about Christopher’s situation, Residential Services confirmed that Majeski assisted Christopher in relocation. At the time we spoke, he was preparing to move his belongings one last time.

Despite the inconvenience and stress of moving, Christopher believes his interactions with Residential Services were generally beneficial. When he was moving out of his old room in Stouffer, they provided him with boxes and tape to package his belongings and

sent staff to help him carry his possessions.

Christopher explains that he didn’t believe that Residential Services was at fault for his five room assignments. “It’s more about the facilities—they can’t really do anything about that.

In general, [Majeski]’s replies were on time and quite helpful. I wouldn’t blame [Residential Services] so much.”

But like Michael, the general impact of moving has taken its toll on Christopher.

“The main thing I have to do is [packing and unpacking].

I have no clue how I’m going to be able to do that. It might take some time, and I also have to review for my midterms.”

Both Michael’s and Christopher’s numerous moves have caused housing–related stress that’s only been magnified by other typical pressures such as academics, relationships, extracurriculars, and family. “The number of moves should be as limited as possible,” says Culhane. “Because each move can be very disruptive.”

While Residential Services and CHAS can act as resources to accommodate students in need of different living arrangements, not all students are equally helped by these institutions. After my conversations with Kris, Michael, and Christopher, it became clear that on–campus housing displacement is often suffered silently. Once you don’t have a home on campus, the magnitude of displacement is often brushed aside by family issues, maintaining friendships, and

the day–to–day pressures that come with being a student.

But once these stressors compound, the anxiety is almost debilitating.

While outsiders might dismiss roommate conflicts and pipe bursts as silly college happenings that’ll soon be ignored or laughed off, the feeling of being unable to live in the one place that you can call your own on campus is almost impossible to forget.

Petty roommate squabbles can still make students feel vulnerable—and Penn, in promising a “home away from home,” should remove students from environments where they feel unsafe. Many first years look to the University to foster community and provide on–campus homes.

But for Kris, Michael, and Christopher, this promise went unfulfilled.

Penn students have the privilege of hope when it comes to their future with the University. Despite past unstable housing, each year comes with new room assignments, new living situations, and new beginnings.

When I ask Michael about his sophomore housing plans, he remains optimistic about the coming year. “I’m going to be moving in with some friends … and I hope this doesn’t ever happen again.”

My own new beginning happens after four months of fear, when I finally walk into my new room in Harnwell. Contrary to the tense silence of my old apartment, this new silence is peaceful. As I enter my new room—which looks exactly like my old room in Rodin—I finally lie down and exhale.

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 15

ST YLE

How Online Donations and the Commodification of Black Death Go Hand in Hand From the infamous $6 million 'BLM House' to controversial activist Shaun King, the commodification of Black death can be shown in all levels of activism. | NAIMA SMALL

O

n April 7, New York Magazine’s Sean Campbell published a story revealing that the Black Lives Matter Global Network (BLMGN) purchased a $6 million home and failed to disclose it to the public. Campbell's article includes real internal strategy memos sent within the organization, with team members discussing how they could answer inquiries about the usage of the house without raising suspicion, highlighting the covert nature of this purchase. Though many donors and supporters believed their money was going straight to families impacted by police brutality or activists fighting for Black Lives Matter’s (BLM) anti–racist cause, New York Magazine’s article shed light on the opacity of online donations to nonprofit organizations.

With social media, web pages, and crowdfunding platforms like GoFundMe, donating to causes that you support has never been easier.

In fact, BLMGN made over $90 million in 2020 alone.

But when organizations or individuals aren’t transparent about the usage of funds, how can you be sure your donation is actually helping anyone?

This isn’t the first time the finances of those involved with the BLM movement have come under criticism.

Imani Perry of The Cut interviewed Samaria Rice, mother of Tamir Rice, a 12–year– old boy killed by police in 2014. In this interview, Rice expressed her frustration at those profiting off Black

Illustration by Jo Xiang death, saying that she wished that the BLM movement would stop using her son's name to further their cause.

According to Rice, controversial political activist Shaun King raised thousands of dollars using her son’s name— but she only saw a fraction of those profits. "I ain’t never talked to Shaun King a day in my life … Shaun King raised all that money [for Tamir] and sent me a $60,000 check," she said. She had seen firsthand how King and other big–name activists associated with the movement have secured “book deals and movie deals,” while people like her, who have lost family members due to racist policing, have been left behind by the very movement created to support them.

Part of being a social justice activist means holding

16 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

leaders accountable. It’s undeniable that the BLM movement has brought enormous visibility to the effort to end police brutality and racism in America, but this does not mean the organization itself is above criticism.

Activists and their organizations have not been the only ones to profit from Black death—companies have been profiting from it as well.

During the racial justice protests in the summer of 2020, supporters were told to donate and give back to the organizations that made change possible. However, supporters were never informed of the actual nature of some of these fundraising campaigns. For example, the viral “Justice for George Floyd” petition garnered 19 million signatures.

After signing, supporters were encouraged to donate money

in order to “get the petition on the agenda.” This petition broke petition promotion company Change.org's records and helped spur nationwide interest in the cause, but none of the money made went to Floyd’s family, Black activist organizations, or the creator of the petition.

Instead, it all went to Change.org.

The commodification of Black death is often discussed in the context of more visibly self–serving “activist” practices, like creating T–shirts where little to none of the profit goes to genuine activist organizations. However, incidents such as King's disingenuousness or the secret purchase of the "BLM House" point to the ways in which commodification can occur even more covertly.

As Perry noted in her profile

of Rice, “Little of the money circulating within [the BLM] movement ends up with the families of the victims of police killings. The vast majority goes to a professional class of spokespeople: organizers, writers, and academics. And the killings continue.”

The bigger social justice organizations become, the less they become about on–the– ground activism and the more they mirror large, professionalized corporations. Shady internal messages and potentially corrupt leadership detract from the ultimate purpose of BLM, which is to bring awareness to the enduring problem of racism in America. Oftentimes, the uptick of performative activism in social media, or the ability for activism and “change” to be measured in clicks or retweets, further distances the goals of a movement from the people it seeks to help.

We need big organizations for public visibility and interest, which most directly lead to policy changes. But we shouldn’t forget the importance of grassroots activism and we should especially not forget the families of the deceased individuals that social movements build themselves around. Even if the internet makes donating easier, it’s still an organization’s or company’s responsibility to be transparent with where the influx of supporters' money goes. The commodification of Black death happens at all levels of activism, and we should be more ready to critique it.

S H OPSATPE N N .COM

Calling all Movers Shakers + Quakers Shop Penn offers an inspired, contemporary shopping and dining experience, open to all. Spanning ten city blocks from 30th to 40th Streets and across Spruce, Walnut, and Chestnut Streets, Shop Penn features more than 75 carefully curated shopping and dining locations.

Wants Needs + Musthaves

Shop Local.

Shop Penn. #S HOPPE N N @S HOPSATPE N N

Scones Phones + Ice Cream Cones A P R I L 2 6 , 2 0 2 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 17

MUSIC

On Tuesdays We Go to Faye Webster Concerts Penn’s Jazz and Grooves brings Faye Webster to World Cafe Live for an intimate performance. | NATALIA CASTILLO

“F

aye! We have a gift for you!” A small gaggle of friends hoists a miniature vase brimming with fresh flowers in the air, excitedly gesturing for the singer on stage to accept it.

This was no ordinary concert.

It was an unassuming Tuesday on the outskirts of Penn’s campus when Faye Webster, Atlanta–born alternative/indie singer, enraptured an audience of students from her perch on the World Cafe Live stage.

The event was the crown jewel of the student group Jazz and Grooves, a subcommittee of Penn’s Student Planning and Events Committee, that bridges the Penn community with an eclectic range of artists from cities far and wide.

In their biggest event yet, Jazz and Grooves sponsored performances from Hannah Jadagu—student by day, rising star by night—and headliner, Faye Webster—multi– talented musical chameleon.

Tuesday's crowds that filtered into World Cafe Live stood in stark contrast to the rowdy stampedes that took to Penn Park for the preceding weekend’s Spring Fling Concert. World Cafe Live’s quaint underground stage and Webster’s pared–down setlist made the event feel more like an intimate gathering of friends rather than a performance.

Despite being a college student herself at New York University, Webster’s opening act, Hannah Jadagu, spent her Tuesday evening nestled on the Philly stage, playing songs from her 2021 EP What Is Going On? Despite being the same age as—if not younger

Illustration by Lilian Liu, photo courtesy of Natalia Castillo than—most of the crowd, Jadagu performed with humor and sincerity, with a carefree demeanor as she cracked jokes with the crowd, coaxing their energy to life. Jadagu ebbed and flowed between original songs like “All My Time Is Wasted” to an inventive acoustic cover of M.I.A.’s 2007 hit “Paper Planes.”

There’s a plain honesty in Jadagu’s lyrics. Her words clung to her dynamic mix of guitar riffs and melodies trickling out of her computer perched on a stool. Her song “Think Too Much” might have been the perfect song for a crowd of students as she reminisced on the passing of time and the existential dread of one’s dwindling youth. The lyrics gave power to her vulnerabilities as she sang: “Stuck in the past up until I turned 18,” and later, “I’m so scared

1 8 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

to be 23 / Education, and relations, oh, and morality.”

There could not have been a more well–matched pairing than Hannah Jadagu and Faye Webster. Jadagu harnesses the same poetic sincerity that is a hallmark of Webster’s music.

Be certain to stay on the lookout—though Jadagu’s career is in its infancy, she’s certain to flourish with incredible grace and widespread success soon enough.

In a seamless transition, Webster humbly meandered onto the stage, with an eager, knowing smile tugging at her lips. Coming hot off her spring tour for her 2021 hit album I Know I’m Funny haha, Webster’s performance became a time capsule of her greatest hits including those from her masterful 2019 album Atlanta Millionaires Club. From “Better Distrac-

tions” to lighter, more mainstream hits like “Right Side of My Neck,” Webster seamlessly marries humor and frank honesty—her stylistic choices are an art form. “Right Side of My Neck” details a melancholy goodbye between two lovers. Much of the song is overtaken by her proclamation “the right side of my neck still smells like you.” But between the echoing refrains reminiscing of her lover’s lingering scent, she confesses, “But we just said goodbye / You looked back at me once / But I looked back two times.”

Nestled between songs, Webster took a brief interlude to play a cover of her “favorite song from Animal Crossing.”

Webster is a creative at heart and seems to find inspiration in all things. An avid lover of her home city Atlanta, a die– hard Braves fan, and a prolific

photographer, she manages to engage with these pleasures simply because they bring her joy. It’s that same simplicity that echoes through her music. In an interview discussing her unique songwriting style, Webster emphasized that there’s both humor and sincerity in the way she describes love, heartbreak, and sorrow. Her title song, “I Know I’m Funny haha,” evolved from a feeling to an idea, to a song and her album title. In a press release for the song, she shared that some might not find the song “worthy or pretty enough to be sung, but she thinks that's what makes it relatable—because “it tells a story so simple and understandable.”

To the same effect that Webster finds inspiration in all–consuming emotions, she commands her audiences with a hypnotic affect. Her melodic lyrics fall from her lips like a prayer, with her head turned up to the rafters as if ascending from the stage. One might almost have expected her body to lift off and float above the crowds. It’s an experience like no other to be privy to a performance from an artist like Webster whose every move is alive with poetry and raw artistry.

As her brief set ended, the audience emerged from their trance, exploding in “encore” chants. Though Webster exited the stage with no indication of an encore, her outpour of devotion and talent lingered heavily in the air, marking the halls of World Cafe Live and the memories of those in attendance that Tuesday evening.

MUSIC

Even for Indie, Lizzy McAlpine Is Distinctly Her Own in ‘five seconds flat’ The Philly native’s third studio album is her best and most mainstream record. | DEREK WONG Illustration by Erin Ma

L

izzy McAlpine has been bubbling in the indie–pop scene for the last few years. Named as an “up–and–coming vocalist” by the BBC, McAlpine found increasing success following her previous album, Give Me A Minute, which has nearly 100 million streams. The Philly native made her late–night television debut on Jimmy Kimmel Live! last year and is also a rising TikTok star, with her biggest video— featuring an unreleased song—reaching nearly 2 million likes. But on her third studio album, five seconds flat, McAlpine brings folk–pop and storytelling to the forefront, allowing her to show off her potential to top 40–radio crossover.

At its core, five seconds flat is about recovering from heartbreak and longing. Fundamentally, this doesn’t sound too different from another well–known breakup album: Olivia Rodrigo’s SOUR. But while Rodrigo excelled at tugging the heartstrings of the general public and telling stories of doomed teenage love, McAlpine’s tales of romance have an extra touch of maturity to them.

Take “doomsday,” the album’s opener and first single, where McAlpine describes the imminent breakup as doomsday over folksy instrumentation and how she’d “like to start planning [her] funeral” before the power gets taken

away from her. The lyrics are a tad melodramatic, but powerful nonetheless. She acknowledges that the relationship is doomed and calls her significant other a “narcissist” for controlling when the relationship can end, but McAlpine regains her power and control over her own life. The “death” of her relationship is her key to freedom, and she wants it on her own terms. “called you again” shows a more remorseful side to McAlpine, where the singer acknowledges that she had part of the blame for the failure of a relationship.

“And I should be the end of it / But I never know when to stop talking / So I make my bed and sleep in it alone,” sings the 22– year–old, and she reveals that anger wasn’t the only emotion she felt following the breakup. Curiously, the song’s contemplative lyr-

ics are accompanied by an anthemic guitar backing, perhaps to demonstrate the false positivity she was feeling as she was reeling from the breakup when she really was feeling the opposite.

These songs show the storytelling aspect of her songwriting that’s been present since her previous album, but what makes this album extra interesting are the stylistic changes. Give Me A Minute felt homegrown, and songs like “Pancakes for Dinner” and “To the Mountains” had a DIY quality to them like Polaroid snapshots of two lovers. five seconds flat, then, would be a reversal of that pastel–like fever dream. The album feels like sour grapes aging to become well–rounded wine, maturing into a richer sound.

The collaborations McAlpine brings to the table best demonstrate this new

course direction. In the climax of “reckless driving,” both McAlpine and featured artist Ben Kessler chant the cathartic final chorus. “I'm a careful driver,” sings McAlpine, and Kessler responds, “I'm a reckless driver." The call and response of this feuding pair continues in the song’s final moments. But as it approaches the end, it abruptly cuts off. A listener would be thrown off, wondering if their audio has been interrupted, or, perhaps, if the pair actually crashed into a tree. This type of listening experience is what McAlpine excels at the most, and she uses instrumentation as a tool to convey her message.

McAlpine also worked with FINNEAS on “hate to be lame,” a tender ballad about falling in love and being unsure of their feelings that was also performed at Coachella. Their doubts

about revealing their feelings have a layer of self– deprecation and existentialism to them. “Maybe my mistakes are the reason / That I made it back to you in time / If I could rewind, would there be some butterfly effect?” sings FINNEAS, as if he were spiraling down the path of what–ifs and what–could–have–beens.

But the crown jewel in the album has to be “erase me,” which features Jacob Collier. Her most pop– leaning cut from the album, the song is also arguably the climax of her short film, five seconds flat, the film, where the audience sees McAlpine reaching rock bottom at the end of the relationship. The song itself is no more cheery, describing her experiences in the beds of strangers when she feels her ex–lover “fadin',” “wonder[ing] who will erase [her]?” The explosive second half of the song is synth–heavy and vocal forward, in part thanks to Collier’s vocal harmonies, and we can feel her desperation and her sense of feeling lost.

With big–name collaborations, increasing media presence, opening for Coldplay, and a nearly sold–out headlining tour, McAlpine is a name to look out for in the alternative and pop scenes. Her stylistic music captivates audiences, and as her career grows, we’ll no doubt see more facets of this blossoming indie artist.

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 19

ST YLE

Unpacking the Resurgence of Modern Witchcraft Contrary to popular belief, witches are not the devil. | SHELBY ABAYIE

W

itches exist in more than just legends and fairytales. From Ghana to Romania to your hometown, witches are everywhere. A new wave of witches is emerging thanks to the internet and various social media platforms like TikTok. But what exactly is a witch?

Witches are broadly known as people engaged in the occult who possess supernatural powers that allow them to cast spells and create potions for various purposes. It's often used in association with vaguely related terms like Wicca. To the uninformed, these terms are used interchangeably because they all broadly fall under the umbrella of supernatural magic.

However, each term is nuanced and carries a long history. For instance, Wicca is a modern western Pagan religion. Wiccans are typically duotheistic, meaning that they broadly worship a goddess and a god. They also have a deep reverence for nature and practice witchcraft. While Wicca is considered a religion, witchcraft isn't necessarily viewed as a religion in itself. Some view it as a practice similar to how meditation is perceived.

Margaret* (C '24) is a practicing witch at Penn. They prefer to remain anonymous for fear of intense family backlash and scrutiny. “[Witchcraft] is so personal to each person. You can design your own practice. [Broadly speaking,] it’s the idea that we are all souls that come from the universe. And when you come to Earth, you take the form of a physical body and go on a specific journey. The pur-

Illustration by Kilahra Lott pose of this experience is to raise your vibrational awareness and learn certain lessons.

It’s really based on harmony with the earth,” says Margaret.

The path to practicing witchcraft is unique for everyone and often entails many twists and turns along the way.

Margaret got their start by exploring different religions and spiritualities.

“I knew I needed a change and during the pandemic, I had a spiritual awakening for me. I knew I was going to leave for college soon and finally be able to leave the church that my parents were in and do my own thing. I would scour the internet looking for any kind of religious or spiritual guidance that I hadn't been exposed to growing up … Eventually, I settled on witchcraft,” says Margaret.

There are many avenues for young people to explore spirituality and learn about witchcraft. On YouTube and TikTok there are communities of witches that introduce out-

20 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

siders to their practice to break down stereotypes and foster a welcoming environment.

For instance, YouTubers like Annabel Margaret, also known as The Green Witch, are down–to–earth and inviting to all. Rather than embodying the stereotype of a witch, she’s more similar to your typical girl next door.

On TikTok, there’s a host of creators welcoming those intrigued by witchcraft to join.

The #WitchTok has over 25.7 billion views as of April 2022 and it’s only getting bigger. It’s the perfect source for curious individuals to get short, low– stakes, and informative content to answer their questions.

Margaret says, "TikTok is good because I can scroll through and see people doing tarot readings on live streams.

It's easy to tell who's an inexperienced witch and [who's] starting out. [I like the TikToker] divineSunflowerducky.

She has a really good community, and I'm friends with a few of her other followers.”

In the TikTok communi-

ties, new witches can actively learn from others and experience spiritual downloads, also known as a miniature spiritual awakening. In these communities, new witches are supported and guided to exit the aptly named "broom closet."

For many new witches, the fear of being outcast by society and potential backlash from family prevents them from fully embracing their identity. This is partially because American cultural norms dictate that witches are a perversion of the Judeo—Christian concept of divine femininity.

For example, one of the most venerated women in Judaism and Christianity is the Virgin Mary, also known as the mother of Jesus Christ.

In pop culture, Mary is everything that a stereotypical witch is not. Mary is often depicted as attractive, pure, and kind. She gains proximity to divinity because of her upstanding character, but doesn’t actually have the power to make something supernatural occur.

In contrast, witches are depicted as ugly, untrustworthy, evil, and cold, demonstrated by the popular phrase "colder than a witch's tit." Overall, witches are viewed as devilish creatures, as anyone outside of the Judeo–Christian morality is often assumed to be colluding with the devil.

Margaret says, “[My parents] don’t know that I practice. They still think that I believe all their [Christian] beliefs … When my sister wanted to leave [Christianity], they kicked her out of the house. I don’t want to repeat that.”

Understandably, many witches choose to avoid direct conflict and only practice among those they feel safe and comfortable with.

“I love doing cleansing spells for my friends. [I primarily] use crystals, essential oils, and sigils. If my friends are feeling really overwhelmed or they just have a lot going on in their mind, I like to cleanse them and make them feel better,” says Margaret.

As long as one treats a witch with common decency, chances are they will receive the same respect and civility, because witches—no matter how many "scary" spells they cast—are people, too.

According to Margaret, contrary to popular belief, witchcraft is rooted in love and growth. She explains, “I really wish that people knew that the majority of witches are coming from a positive light and really want to help people and bring comfort to people.

The whole point of practicing witchcraft is to raise the vibration of the world around you and bring more love and peace into it."

OVERHEARDS

Overheards 04.26.22 'S AMY DUNNE

"I've had not–like– the–other–girls–ness imposed onto me."

U THERE GYNO? IT'S ME, MAR GARET YO

S

ST O

DP

DO E

TH E

"He’s never thought to look through my phone because he's just stupid that way."

E

C

HIAVELLI, YASSIFIED

AR

MA

This week: gone girls, non–girls, and blonde girls

NE

D AT THE HAIR SALON

"He's what happens when you go to Supercuts and ask for balayage."

NOT IDENTIFY AS A LADY

"I forgot that reproduction can be healthy and not just just."

"I just wanna be a lady friend."

THE POWER OF 3’S

NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD

All-inclusive rates from $1609 Limited time | per person, 12 installments

T O U R T O D AY theradian.com 215-222-4212 | 3925 Walnut St

APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 21

UNDER THE BUTTON

Self-Efficacy! CAPS Told Me To 'Apply Myself' SONIA FEIL

H

ey! I know everyone’s super duper stressed out with finals and everything, so let me save you a trip to CAPS. I had been feeling a little bit overwhelmed myself this past week which is soooooooo abnormal for me, so I finally decided to pick up the phone and call CAPS—boy am I glad I did! I told them what my issue was, they sighed, put me on hold, and played some calm, relaxing Tetris music. I'll admit, it was pretty effective, but I was still preparing to bare my

soul.

Suddenly, the operator picked back up and said, “Hang on, have you tried applying yourself?”

Eureka! I was set—they didn’t even have to put me through to the therapist!

“Ohhhhhh my god, is that what I’m supposed to be doing?” I thought. That idea had literally never passed through my vapid little brain, so I’m really excited to try it out on my two presentations, six reflections, three final papers, and four exams due this coming

week.

I mean, it’s no wonder so many Penn students are depressed—we’re just not trying as hard as everyone else is.

Fear not! Once this testimonial makes its way around campus, all of our so-called “problems” will disappear.

What more can I say? You just have to lift yourself up by your own bootstraps sometimes—a method that has had critically acclaimed success in every disadvantaged group that’s attempted it.

Happy Finals! <3

Photo (with edits) by Pixabay / CC 2.0

Penn LGBT Center Says You Can Use 'Gay' in a Derogatory Way Again JACKSON PARLI

I

Photo by Penn Today // cc by 2.0 22 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

n a press release today, Penn’s LGBT center, home of free printing on campus and nothing else, announced that it is now acceptable to describe things you dislike as “gay.” This decision comes after the appointment of a new, straight president of the LGBT center, Brad Chadleyson, who replaced the former president, Stacy Layne Matthews.

In a recent interview, Chadleyson told us, “yeah, the LGBT center basically gets to control whatever gay shit goes on on campus.

During lacrosse practice, my

dad always taught me that the one with the ball has all the power. And now I’m the one with the ball. No homo.

And it’s like … why would I want my speech censored by a bunch of queers? Sorry, I meant to say ‘queens.' Why would I want my speech censored by a bunch of queens?

Stonewall was about fighting against censorship. I’m basically the best ally on campus.”

The press release also included things that Chadleyson personally thought were “gay.” These included things like the Pittsburgh Steelers,

repeatedly failing your junior year of high school, and that thing where your girlfriend gets mad at you for making out with her friend while you’re at Smokes.

Looking into the future, Chadleyson tells us he’d like to collaborate with other campus affinity groups to normalize and re-establish the use of other slurs to be “intersectional.”

“Queers exist in every community.”

Chadleyson explained, “It would be a shame not to acknowledge that as loudly and as often as we can.”

UNDER THE BUTTON

Seven Scary Tactics to Make Your Code Run IAN ONG

Photo by ah.radwan / CC0 1.0

C

ode not running? Frustrated and at wit’s end?

Do not fret, my mildmannered, STEM-minded individual — these seven spooky tips are sure to get your code up and running in no time.

Wait until your code isn’t looking, then scream “Yahtzee!” really loudly. Before you know it, your code will be speeding out of there in no time flat.

Show your code a failed MATH 114 final. Ahh! There goes your scholarship!

Play some 100 gecs for your

code. It won’t be able to cope with the myriad of abstract concepts at play, causing it to cower in fear from the genius that is Dylan Brady and Laura Les. Nine out of ten times, your code will then quickly scuttle away to have a small existential crisis.

Frighten your code by threatening to erase it, line-by-line.

Hey, you can never go wrong with <body> horror.

Do some research into your code’s history and try to emulate a traumatic experience

from its childhood. Get creative with this one, and your code will be making a beeline for the nearest fire escape before you know it.

Smash an overripe banana between your bare hands and begin to ravenously lick up all of the residue. Your code will be able to tell that you are insane and have nothing to lose, and it will swiftly get the hell out of Dodge.

Tell your code that in the real world, nobody will be there to help it. Tell it that you’re on

your own, and that if you screw up, you alone have to deal with the consequences. If that doesn’t get your code sweating, then tell it this: even if you do everything you’re supposed to and try your very hardest, every single day, a happy and peaceful life is no guarantee.

Ask it: at this moment, do you genuinely feel fulfilled? Are you mentally, physically, and spiritually healthy? Or are you merely surviving, day by day, week by week, year by year? Are you spending your precious

time doing the things you really love, or are you caught in a loop, mindlessly pursuing empty, fruitless credentials? Fate is fickle, and time flows away like sand — we won’t know we’ve lost our chance to truly live until the moment is long gone, and we are left bitter, with nothing but our regrets to keep us company.

Personally, that last one worked for me! Let me know down in the comments below which tips got your code running!

What's on the Lauder Dining Hall Menu? Pap Smears of Wagyu SIMON OROS

A

s a historical institution, the University of Pennsylvania is built on traditions and stability.

Shockingly, the Penn undergraduate population reduced their use of the Student Health Service STD clinic by 15% this past school year; this is the first yearly decrease in the institution’s entire 282 year history. Campus health experts such as Doctor Lisa Gartrude suspect that welcoming of an “abundance of absolute virgins” into the class of 2025 led to this staggering decrease in sexual health clinic use. Dozens of STD clinic nurses and doctors are left with no choice but to twiddle their thumbs and pray for a resurgence of raunchy hook up culture.

As the national beacon of business education, Penn knows how to handle financial variability and implement creative solutions to reallocate overfunding; this situation is no exception. An email sent

out to the undergraduate population details Penn’s updated plans to lean into Lauder college house’s “fine dining experience.” Promises of occasional steak dinners are not enough to attract applicants who have spent their life enjoying Michelin Star quality dishes.

So what’s on the menu this upcoming week? Wagyu beef Pap smears sprinkled on a bed of summer squash. At least half of SHS STD clinic staff have been relocated to beautifully equipped kitchens of Lauder College house along with their reproductive health medical instruments. Penn has been championing interdisciplinary creativity for decades; intertwining gastronomy and gynecology is no exception. Dining hall staff is preparing to invite hundreds of the plumpest Japanese Wagyu cattle into the newly coined “food clinic” to humanely source an exciting and attractive take on college dining hall eatery. Delicious!

Fuel for finals with kegstands we deliver

2206 Washington Ave. | (215) 546-7301 APRIL 26, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 23

Campus

Apartme

nts

From the Creators of The Simon

NOW L

EASIN G FALL 2 022

NOW OFFE

RING FLEX IBLE MOVE IN D ATES

STUDI O- 12 BEDR HOUS OO ES & A PARTM M ENTS

STUDIOS STARTING AT $875 ONE BEDROOMS STARTING AT $895 TWO BEDROOMS STARTING AT $1215 3-12 BEDROOMS STARTING AT $1590

SCAN ME

DAY. O T N SIG .

ODAY T E V SA

LIMITED TIME ONLY: REDUCED SECURITY DEPOSITS

TEXT US: (610) 922-1178 LIVECAMPUSAPTS.COM | 4043 WALNUT STREET | (267) 297-0101 24 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 26, 2022

* RESTRICTIONS APPLY