The Miami Student Magazine | Spring 2022

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, SPRING 2022

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FROM THE EDITOR

Dear Reader, During production for the 10th issue of The Miami Student Magazine, the editorial team and I found ourselves thinking about our publication’s history. We revisited the past and began contemplating the future.

When it came time to read drafts of stories, it became abundantly clear that our writers had done the same.

This semester’s issue tells the stories of people who established what would come next for them based on where they found themselves at a specific point in time.

And so, I present to you Defining a Future.

Our first piece, “Black-eyed Susans,” is a narrative nonfiction piece by Elli Carder that reflects on the childhood abuse her grandmother experienced. By analyzing the trauma through the symbolism of plants, Elli and her grandmother teach us how to keep going and let time mend our wounds.

A returning writer, Henri Robbins, explores the lives of people who love music but plan to pursue other careers. In “Money Over Music,” Henri explains how the students plan to keep their passion alive.

Up next is a profile by Lyndsey Carter titled “Wet Paint and Microfame,” which reports on TikTok star Bekah Legault. Readers will learn about how the Miami University first-year painted her way to a million followers and how it impacts her life today.

Then there is “Homesick for St. Louis,” a personal narrative written by Ethan Kraus. In this story, Ethan lets us into his mind and talks about how he came to miss the city he once hated.

Lexi Whitehead earns the cover story spot for her writing in “Inner Identity, Outer Expression,” which follows Kit Gladieux as they get their first androgynous haircut.

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In the Spring 2022 issue of the magazine, Megan Miske tells readers about three couples who are currently engaged while still in college. “Hearing Wedding Bells” gives readers a peek into the lives of the fiances.

Madalyn Willis, writer of “Building a Business,” describes how student business owners balance attending classes while keeping up with brands. Four young entrepreneurs explain the logistics of their work and the lessons they have learned from it.

Our second to last story, “Funeral, Disrupted,” was written by David Kwiatowski. In this personal narrative, David explains how he didn’t get to mourn his grandma at her funeral because of uninvited and downright rude guests.

Finally, the last story of the issue was written by Rebecca Wolff. “The Act of Anticipating” follows Brett “Prospektion” Novits as he patiently leads his team to a video game victory.

I want to thank the talented writers who made this issue possible. The thought, care and time you each put into your stories will not go unnoticed. I am so thankful to have worked with all of you. There will always be another story to tell, so I hope you keep writing, whether in the magazine next semester or long after you leave Miami.

I also owe a massive shoutout to my editorial team: Sam Cioffi, Hannah Horsington, Claire Lordan and GraciAnn Hicks. Without you, this magazine would not have been possible. I appreciate how you were there for me every step of the way, providing your invaluable knowledge and feedback. I am so grateful to have each of you on this team.

Last but not least, I’d like to thank our art director, Macey Chamberlin, and her design team. I am so proud of the final product and cannot thank you enough for how hard you’ve worked. Your talents continue to impress me; thank you for bringing this magazine to life.

I learned something new every day while working to produce this publication, and I hope that each of you take something away from it as well.

With that, enjoy Issue X.

Skyler Perry Editor-in-Chief

Volume X | Spring 2022

Editor-in-Chief Skyler Perry Art Director Macey Chamberlin Editorial Staff Sam Cioffi, Hannah Horsington, Claire Lordan, GraciAnn Hicks Art Staff Mel Hale, Libbey Hansen, Annie Jacquemin, Hailey Van Boxtel, Zhengxiang Xu Copy Editor Ellie Piszel Business Manager Devin Ankeney Head of Student Media Cosette Gunter Faculty Advisor James Tobin Business Advisor Sacha Bellman

PROSE Skyler Perry

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Letter from the Editor

Elli Carder

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Black-eyed Susans

Henri Robbins

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Money over Music

Lyndsey Carter

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Wet Paint and Microfame

Ethan Kraus

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Homesick for St. Louis

Lexi Whitehead

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Inner Identity, Outer Expression

Megan Miske

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Hearing Wedding Bells

Madalyn Willis

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Building a Brand

David Kwiatkowski

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Funeral, Disrupted

Rebecca Wolff

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The Act of Anticipating

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PERSONAL HISTORY

Black-Eyed Susans My grandma’s survival of paternal abuse

By Elli Carder How do you save a dying plant? When the roots have given over to rot and the leaves curl and grow flaccid, how do you keep something so fragile alive?

If you asked my grandma, she would tell you to be patient. All living things need love and time. Even the grass we so carelessly crush beneath the weight of our feet, the weeds we get down on our knees to pull from the earth. If we deny them such minimal effort, then bad things happen.

Unlike my grandma, I have killed many plants in my life. From overwatering to underwatering, from not enough sun to too much — no matter how much I loved them or cooed over their pretty leaves, they died anyway.

I have seen veins of ivy crawl out like snakes, twist their five-tipped leaves over the brick of homes, and they do it all without the tender touch of human hands. Or, I suppose, despite the efforts we take to destroy them.

Love, I think, might be too much of a blanket term for what keeps something alive. Resilience seems more fitting.

My stubborn will, I’m sure, keeps the tiny pothos plant in my living room from curling brown and black before its time.

Because loving something and being able to keep that thing alive are two very different things.

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illustrations by Annie Jacquemin

*** When I was little, my grandma would tell me stories about her childhood, specifically the things she suffered at her father’s hands. They were tales so dark and vivid they would stick with me for days afterward, like a husk wedged between my teeth.

I’d watch her freckled hands slow over whatever she was crafting, her lips pursed like she was in pain. I couldn’t have been more than 9 or 10 years old the first time she told me he hit her, maybe 13 when the stories got worse.

Screaming. Hitting. She told me once she thought he was evil. I didn’t say it, but I knew she was right.

We’d sit beneath the flickering, harsh light of her basement, stringing colorful beads onto copper rods to make earrings that would most likely break before I ever got the chance to show my mother.

He’d been dead for more than two decades. I didn’t have any logical reason to fear him, but it made me wonder about the men I knew. How easy it was for a hand to become a weapon, for anger to morph into violence.

Grandma’s basement always smelled slightly of cats and wet soil. Cats from the strays that slipped in and out of the backdoor, nibbling the food laid out for them in cereal bowls. Soil from the army of potted plants set on every free surface, lush and green, for my grandma was a necromancer of flora.

I’ve wondered and had long discussions with my three sisters, who also heard these stories, about why she told us them. We were too young to understand what it meant to carry the dead weight of trauma.

My dad wasn’t a good man, Elli, she would tell me. It was as though she were making a side comment about the weather or what she planned to make my sisters and me for lunch.

Pain, no matter how old, tends to leave a brand on people.

My curiosity grew, and I was too young to understand that some stories were too intimate, too painful to share even with people who love you. When we lapsed into boredom or the beads ran out, we would go out back to sit by the pond.

All manner of life existed in that yard. Tall, reedy cattails poked above the lily pads. The bubbling mouths of goldfish poked out from the pond’s surface, hungry for the Cheerios we threw to them as we talked. Birds dipped their dark heads in the fall of the tiny waterfall the pond provided, chirping in delight.

Because loving something and being able to keep that thing alive are two very different things.

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My favorite of my grandma’s plants were the regal, thin stemmed Black-eyed Susans. They grew against her fence in bunches — their yellow petals a deep contrast to the brown wood behind them — and commanded the viewer’s attention with their dainty beauty. Bees flew to them and drank their fill of nectar.

Sometimes, if I asked, she would tell me things about the different plants. I knew from our mini-lessons that the Susans were something called perennials. This meant they lived longer, usually coming back each summer to entice pollinators.

What I liked about the Susans, though, and what made me look upon them with more respect than the dahlias or the flimsy tulips, was their ability to withstand dry weather.

They could go without water for a long time, longer than most of the other plants in her yard, and remain standing.

I think I envied them for their strength.

It was here, cushioned by the soft sounds of nature, that we sat and sweated, passing stories back and forth. She knew all of mine, mostly because she played a role in them or because I had a habit of forgetting which ones I’d already told. Hers, on the other hand, I could never fully anticipate.

The stories I remember most clearly are the ones about her father, Daniel Hitte.

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*** Daniel was a veteran of World War II. On one of the days the fighting got bad, he was shot in the leg. To survive, he had to be smart. He pressed his body down into a ditch and pretended he’d been killed.

I wonder, when I think about how he put his hands on my grandma and her sisters, if he was afraid. Lying in the mud, tasting the sweat from his brow, I wonder if he thought that he was already dead.

I wonder how the sun felt, baking the mud dry on his cheeks and the tops of his hands. If it tormented him as he tried to stay still.

Perhaps he saw the roots of his life reach down into the ground where he lay in that ditch. Perhaps he saw them as they were, and maybe even as they could be. A house in the suburbs, a dog, a son, a beautiful wife. The American dream put out a lure to tease him.

He’d later meet a tall woman with dark hair, and he’d marry her. She’d go to church on Sundays, pray to God when she sinned, then pray again when he did. Her voice would come to his ears like the brush of wind, soft even when she was angry. To her, he would owe everything. Later, for all she had given him, he would repay her with fear.

When my grandma’s dad came home from the war, he was awarded the Purple Heart for his bravery and the wound in his calf. He was granted a “thank you” for the horrors he’d endured and the sacrifice he’d made in blood to his country.

Like a lot of young men who come back home from wars, he was not the same person he’d been before he left. He developed a drinking problem that stayed with him through his marriage and the birth of each of his six children.

My dad was mean, my grandma would say. I knew it wasn’t the same kind of mean that existed between me and my sisters when things didn’t go our way. When she said mean, she was thinking of bruises and threats made in drunken slurs. She was thinking of the way her mother flinched when Daniel came home, his boots the sound of stones dropping on the floor.

For a long time, I understood very little about suffering. I thought the worst pain anyone could experience was death or a scraped knee. But in my grandma’s eyes, I saw an ancient kind of suffering.

Sometimes villains live in the bodies of people who are supposed to love and protect us. The lines between good and evil are so skewed they might as well do away with them entirely. Most times, people come out of their battles structurally changed, living with scars from their fighting and exhaustion that no amount of sleep can do away with.

I’m starting to believe she was right when she said you had to love the plants under your care.

Just as with plants, if all you give someone is water and sunlight — the basics they need for life — and refuse them love, then they wilt. ***

For a long time, I understood very little about suffering. I thought the worst pain anyone could experience was death or a scraped knee.

But in my grandma’s eyes, I saw an ancient kind of suffering.

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On some visits, grandma would fall into a melancholic rumination. I’d attempt to steer the conversations over to happier things knowing she went quiet after a while if we talked about her father. Somehow we always came back to what had been done to her when she was younger. I think partly this was because she’d never been able to fully unpack it. Maybe she was only talking out loud, speaking the truth so it could become something tangible.

My mom tells me that at the end of Daniel’s life, he found God. How he didn’t see Him in the soft faces of his children, I can’t be sure. Why didn’t he find Him sooner when he met his wife who loved him through his cruelty?

Why did God let him go on for so long with no sign of stopping? I try not to ask myself that last one.

I knew my grandma loved her father, as children often do despite the pain suffered at their hands. I’d seen static-edged, low-quality home videos of him talking to her and her siblings when they were grown. The smiles and laughter were as real as anything.

I wondered how a man like that could be capable of such wickedness. But more than that, I wondered how my grandma had survived, how she was standing before me and how she hadn’t broken apart already.

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*** I recently visited my grandma in the home she’s now lived in for around 10 years. It doesn’t hold memories of Daniel, but I think she still feels him with her. Not quite a ghost, but no doubt something that haunts her.

It’s one thing to be hurt by someone you love, but it’s another to have that person share your features. When you look into the mirror or pass by a window, you see the remnants of them like patchwork on your body. *** We took a tray of frosted oatmeal cookies out to the yard, my grandma’s little dog Coco yapping at our heels.

My three sisters and I sat out in the iron garden chairs on her cement porch, watching her water the flowers with her hose.

Perhaps, after all that her father stole from her childhood, she’s trying to make up for all those lost years, all that lost love. Plants can’t tell you they hate you or grab your wrists and squeeze their nails into your flesh. Plants ask for nothing but water, sunlight and love. She’s got a lot of that, enough to feed a forest.

Nibbling on the cookies, fussing over the sticky summer air, I think of what it must’ve been like for her when she was my age.

Did her father have a garden? Did his heavy hands sew love into the soil as hers do? I wondered how he had turned into something so different from the image I had of him in my mind.

There are still holes in my grandma’s story that I will never know. There are details I don’t want to be privy to and ones that I would never ask her to share. But still, I see her strength in so many things.

The greatest lesson she taught me was that, in order to survive, you have to want to live. If the only reason my pothos plant kept rearing its coin-shaped leaves toward the window was because of that stubborn will I mentioned, then that was good enough. If the only thing that got me out of bed in the mornings were my books, then that was good enough.

I think my grandma lives for the smiles on her family’s faces, the laughter that echoes in her kitchen, the stray cats and the potted plants. I think she gets up every morning with the hope that pain is not eternal. Though scars may not fade, they certainly do lose their sting.

Wherever Daniel is, Heaven or Hell or somewhere in between, I wonder if he sees her. I wonder if he’s sorry.S

I think she gets up every morning with the hope that pain is not eternal. Though scars may not fade, they certainly do lose their sting.

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PROFILE

Money Over Music When passion isn’t part of the career plan

By Henri Robbins

Sam Rabe stands on the stage in Kumler Chapel on Western campus, strumming his guitar. His wavy brown hair spills out from his head, just touching his shoulders.

A worn, brown leather jacket sits beside him as he fills the pews with his personal sermon: Bobby McFerrin, The Who and even a few songs of his own.

For some students at Miami University, music is a significant part of their lives. No matter what instrument they play, these students find personal fulfillment in making music. However, many of them like Rabe don’t consider it a full-time career option. Instead, they see it as an escape from their impending post-graduation cycle of 9 to 5 work.

Rabe, a senior computer science major, first picked up the ax last year after becoming a member of Miami’s Guitar Club. He hoped to emulate the classic rock artists of his childhood. In the beginning, he forced himself to practice for 30 minutes every day. After only a few weeks, he practiced so much that he started missing classes.

He currently has two jobs lined up after college, neither of which relate to music. This has caused him to re-evaluate his interests and future. With countless roads ahead of him, some music-related and others far from it, he’s unsure of which path to take.

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“Do I want to go to New Orleans and just live music and try my best to get by?” Rabe said. “Do I want to take this job that I already have, and figure out life from there? Do I want to do something totally different? Part of me wants to go home and start applying to jobs again.”

For Rabe, a career in tech seems like a safe option that incorporates his personal interests. His fascination with computers started in high school when he built a PC for competitive gaming. He eventually started programming and gained an appreciation for computer science.

Rabe may also be interested in traveling to China and becoming an English teacher. He discovered his love for Chinese culture when he visited the country during his first year of college, but was frustrated by his inability to engage with it. Hoping to fix this, he began studying Chinese, and he ended up taking enough classes to have a minor in the language.

Although he’s unsure of which direction he wants to take his life, he has a feeling that his love for music is not going to disappear any time soon.

“No matter where I am, you can be sure to see me there, just jamming and playing music that I love,” Rabe said.

illustrations by Mel Hale

*** Black and gray skull posters surround sophomore finance and political science major James Gaddis as he pokes a pin through the lapel of his suit jacket. He turns to a mirror and fastens a tie around his neck, adjusting his hair before flipping down the collar of his shirt. He puts in earbuds and queues up tracks from Black Label Society, Alice in Chains, Audioslave and Trivium before leaving to meet with potential new members of his business fraternity.

Gaddis is a full-blown metalhead — something that runs counter to his clean-cut appearance. He’s been playing instruments for most of his life but gravitates toward the guitar.

“I can be creative with guitar,” Gaddis said. “I’ve always loved making my own stuff, whether it’s soloing or just jamming for a bit. I can sit down and play whatever I want, and I’ve found my creativity can come out in certain places where it can’t in others.”

Gaddis’ first serious experience with music was in high school when he played the baritone saxophone. His skill with the lumbering instrument eventually earned him the first seat in his school band, a sax that only he was allowed

to touch and a spot in a big-band jazz group. He had to set the saxophone aside after high school graduation since he couldn’t afford the $12,000 model the school provided.

After graduating from Miami, Gaddis wants work in corporate law and reinvest his income into personal pursuits. He plans to have a music room lined with countless guitars, saxophones and other instruments so that his career and his love of music can coexist. For him, it’s all about finding a balance.

“I’ll still enjoy my career, but that’s not one of my passions in life,” Gaddis said. “I want to make money in that field so I can fuel my actual hobbies and passions.”

While he doesn’t expect to make money from guitar, a hobby he has described as a money pit, Gaddis isn’t opposed to the idea. He even casually entertains the idea of giving up his career one day in pursuit of musical fame.

As Gaddis walks to the business interview with metal still blasting through his headphones, it is undeniable that no matter what his future may hold, music will remain part of his life. ***

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Michael Easley didn’t spend his final spring break of college relaxing on a beach. Instead, he traveled halfway across the globe to Sweden, to a city he says is one of the most important to modern metal music — Stockholm.

Easley is a senior at Miami who studies zoology. He also produces metal for multiple bands, helps run a record label and has even been involved in two metal bands on campus.

In addition, Easley runs a radio show with Miami’s student radio station called Psych Mike and is the president of Newly Woken Organization Based on Heavy Metal, Miami’s heavy metal club.

As more than just a casual metal listener, Easley is a well-read connoisseur of the genre. Since middle school, he’s listened to countless albums and been an avid fan. He can rattle off encyclopedic descriptions of Stockholm and its music scene without missing a beat.

Easley said that Scandinavia is one of the world’s largest exporters of metal music, with Finland holding the record for most metal bands per capita in the world. In addition, he explains how Stockholm essentially created modern death metal like Entombed and Dismember.

For Easley, metal is a way of life. Since first being exposed to Swedish heavy metal band Sabaton in eighth grade, he’s attended dozens of shows. He also put together his own battle jacket, which is a denim vest adorned with

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patches showing off his music taste.

Within the genre, he can find music that matches any emotion or experience.

“I can think of a lot of bands that produce these huge waves of sound that transport you into an ethereal state,” Easley said. “I think that’s part of why I never get tired of it.”

In the same way, Easley can find a community anywhere through the music he listens to — something that he says is especially true in his field of study as there seems to be an intersectionality between the two groups.

“You would be so surprised by how many zoology majors are metalheads,” Easley said. “One of the most premier ornithology professors in the world is famously a huge metalhead and went on Two Minutes to Late Night, which is a metal-themed talk show. One of the writers for Angry Metal Guy, my favorite blog, is a huge birder and naturalist, too.”

To Easley, this correlation isn’t just a coincidence. Instead, he sees clear connections between lovers of metal music and lovers of nature. Much of the metal he listens to is inspired by the beauty of landscapes and the natural world people take inspiration from.

His current musical project, Caldera, is named after a

geological formation in which a hollow forms in the ground following a volcanic eruption. He said this communicates a sense of natural power reminiscent of the loud, distorted sounds they create onstage.

The project’s music is described by Easley and his bandmates as “stoner metal.”

While it can be hard to pinpoint an exact definition — it can be described as “hypnotic” with a “focus on repetition” and having “slowed-down, chunky waves of distortion.”

“Honestly, the only true criteria is that, if it sounds really good while you’re stoned, it’s probably stoner metal,” Easley said.

While he spends countless hours perfecting his craft,

Easley doesn’t anticipate it being anything more than a hobby. For him, it’s a way to express himself outside the regular grind of everyday life.

“You go to work, you come home, you hit the bar, you shriek out 40 minutes of music and then you slam some brewskis with the boys and do it all again,” Easley said. “It’s something that holds a lot of emotional catharsis for me.”

Easley said that he would encourage anyone who has even a fleeting interest in music to pursue it and treasure it.

“My best friends all talk to me about music,” Easley said.

“We all love music. The people I love, a lot of them I love because of our belief in music. These things are the kind of things that keep the persistent existential dread at bay.” S

“I can sit down and play whatever I want, and I’ve found my creativity can come out in certain places where it can’t in others.”

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TRENDING

Bekah Legault may seem like any other college firstyear who’s adjusting from high school and embracing her newfound independence. However, she isn’t like most students in her online life.

Legault, a marketing student at Miami University, has gone viral on the video-sharing platform TikTok. Her account @rebekah.legault has 1.2 million followers and nearly 30 million views on her videos.

TikTok is a social media platform where users can film videos and post them for anyone to view. It differs from other video-sharing platforms, such as YouTube, because the videos are shorter, with durations ranging from 15 seconds to three minutes.

She went viral on the platform for her captivating yet seemingly effortless painting videos, where she creates anything from succulents to koi fish in space. Once, she even painted a whole canvas filled with frogs.

Legault feels most at peace when she paints. Picking up her paintbrush and transforming a blank canvas into a piece of art gives her an outlet to express herself, which she said her creative brain needs to function. She likes painting portraits of her friends and her favorite cartoon characters.

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illustrations by Annie Jacquemin

Legault remembers the first time she appeared in a TikTok video. Her friend filmed a video of them harmonizing together, and they posted it to the friend’s account. A few hours later, the video had nearly 7,000 views.

“I will never forget how much I loved that feeling, the feeling of knowing people were seeing and enjoying that first video,” Legault said. “After that, I wanted to make more and more videos. I wanted to have that feeling again.”

The taste of microfame from that video convinced Legault to start a TikTok account of her own in the summer of 2019.

She started posting multiple painting videos a week during her first months on TikTok and began to gain a

small following of a few thousand people. Her page increased in engagement when she started taking painting requests from her followers.

Her first viral TikTok came from a request a follower made. They asked her to paint Disney Princesses, but before she even began creating the characters on the giant canvas, she decided to announce the series by painting its title. She crafted the words “Disney Princess” in the typical Disney font at the top of the canvas and posted it before going to bed. When she woke up the following day, the video had over 1 million views. “[When I found out] I screamed downstairs and told my parents, called my best friend and was just totally freaking out,” Legault said.

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She had no idea why that particular video was her first one to go viral, but she felt lucky that out of the millions of videos posted on the app that day, her video was seen by so many.

After that, her following on TikTok continued to grow.

She hit 1 million followers in under a year of being on the platform and started to experience a kind of attention she had never had before.

“People I didn’t even know would bring it up in class,” Legault said. “One time, this guy I never spoke to before stands up in front of the whole class and goes, ‘Guys, did you know that Bekah is TikTok famous?’”

Legault said she is not bothered by the attention she gets for her TikToks. She embraces talking about her viral experiences with those who ask, but she is conscious not to talk about it constantly so she doesn’t come off as braggy or annoying to others.

“It feels silly to admit, but I love talking about it,” Legault said. “I just don’t want to force other people to talk

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about it if they don’t want to.”

Frances Cors, a first-year marketing major at Miami, is Legault’s best friend and roommate. She said that Legault’s large TikTok following played no part in forming their friendship. Instead, she was drawn to Legault because of her confident and outgoing personality.

Cors didn’t have a TikTok account when she met Legault in person to discuss being roommates after meeting through Instagram. However, when she found out about Legault’s account, she was shocked to see Legault had such a large following.

“I downloaded it after just to watch her videos,” Cors said. “There’s this one video that has something like 20 million views, and I thought that was so crazy, but her paintings are so good. She totally deserves that many views.”

Since she began attending college, it has been a struggle for Legault to find a balance between her online and offline life.

“Sometimes I do have to prioritize my school work and hanging out with friends over making videos,” Legault said.

“I always try to find time to make videos each week, even if it’s not my typical painting videos.”

Allocating her time at college has helped Legault avoid losing the passion she has found for making videos. If she doesn’t feel like posting a video, she simply won’t post. Legault said that setting these boundaries with TikTok has been very beneficial. She admits social media can be super fun, but it has dark sides.

“Social media is definitely a slippery slope,” Legault said.

“It allows people to connect with those who have similar interests, but on the flip side, social media also causes so much self-comparison that can cause many people to create false assumptions about how they are supposed to look or act.”

Luckily, in Legault’s case, she has not experienced many hate comments or negative people on her account. In fact, her experience on the platform has been quite the opposite.

“I have had a pretty positive experience on TikTok,” she said. “In social settings, I tend to care a lot about whether people like me or not, but on my TikTok, it’s entirely my space…I have followers that love me for me and what I post.”

Legault’s experience going viral on social media has made her interested in making videos as a full-time career in the future. She has made approximately $5,000 from her TikTok videos, and she hopes to earn more on the platform going forward.

“If I could just paint all day and make videos about it, that would be the dream,” she said.

While Legault has several years to think about her career, right now she is just trying to make the most out of her semi-typical college life while sharing it all with her millions of internet friends. S

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PERSONAL HISTORY

Homesick for St. Louis Accepting the city I once hated

By Ethan Kraus 22 THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, SPRING 2022

I used to hate my hometown.

Throughout my whole childhood into middle school and high school, I had an awful view of where I came from. To me, St. Louis, Missouri, was a flyover city riddled with crime, wasted potential, twisted freeways and outdated billboards. I can remember sitting in the backseat of the car, looking up at the signs and wondering who the hell “Brown & Crouppen Personal Injury Law Firm” was. Some people had movie stars to look up to, but I had midwestern lawyers.

Every aspect of the place used to leave a bad taste in my mouth. It was as if the city was determined to stay dead. It was a black hole of energy and ambition. As soon as I got in, I wanted to get out. I felt no real connection and no genuine pride toward the only place I’d ever lived.

At the cusp of adulthood, I came to Miami University eager to be leaving behind that grayscale sinkhole I had called home. I felt free of a burden long carried for the first few weeks. However, over time, a feeling started to build inside me. This feeling started low, almost silent, and then grew in size as I continued school. Underneath the angst and disdain I held for St. Louis, a soft underbelly seemed to unravel.

At Miami, I felt genuine homesickness for the first time.

I found myself missing the minor things about St. Louis.

I longed for the minute details that I once overlooked, such as the endless construction on Interstate 44 and listening to the band American Football while driving to school.

Homesickness, like any emotion, is a sensation that comes in waves. It is heightened by experience and can throw anyone off guard. You can feel it in your chest, your head and even your fingertips.

Homesickness, like any emotion, is a sensation that comes in waves.

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Because of its intensity, my initial reaction was to reject the feeling outright. I couldn’t believe that I was homesick for the place I had been fighting to get away from all my life.

I interpreted this new feeling as a weakness, something I could fight and overcome. Battling this feeling during my first year of college exhausted me.

For a while, I didn’t talk to my family. I tried to forget St. Louis, and I even prided myself that I never visited home.

I treated homesickness like a disease that I could cure through pure willpower. Ultimately, I failed. The constant struggle of emotional denial held onto me like a true obsession, defining my daily experience.

At some point, I decided to face this feeling. There wasn’t a specific day or a cinematic moment of realization.

Instead, I gradually worked up the courage to question my feelings and attempt to change for the better.

If I couldn’t bury the feeling, I’d have to learn to live with it.

After all that time fighting and struggling, I found out that the key was simply acceptance.

I spent so long trying to hate homesickness that I had become miserable and pessimistic. Once I opened myself up and learned to embrace it, I felt a true sense of security and a real feeling of peace. After all that time fighting and struggling, I found out that the key was simply acceptance.

When I eventually returned to St. Louis, I felt different.

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photo-illustrations by Ethan Kraus & Macey Chamberlin

I recognized the streets, restaurants, billboards and people, but the resentment was gone. I paid close attention to old routes to school. I spent time with friends I hadn’t seen in years, going back to potholed parking lots to skateboard or even just hang out and talk.

All it took was three years of being foolishly pretentious to figure out what I was doing wrong.

For the first time, I was proud of where I lived. I felt connected to my home.

It hadn’t changed, but my eyes had been focused; I learned to appreciate how my identity was founded. All it took was three years of being foolishly pretentious to figure out what I was doing wrong.

As I approach my last year at Miami, homesickness remains, but it’s no longer an enemy. It exists as a pair of shoes I put on every morning: an eternal part of myself.

These days, I see St. Louis in the faces of my family, in conversations between old friends and in memories I replay in my head. Even if I never return to St. Louis, a part of me will always be there. Homesickness radiates from the pieces of yourself left behind, but it’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s beautiful to be able to miss something. S

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EXPERIENCE

Inner

Identity, Outer Expression More than just a haircut

By Lexi Whitehead For many people, hair – how it’s cut, how it’s styled, how it’s colored – is a central part of their identity. Changing it can be scary, exciting or even a step in self-discovery.

This was the case for Kit Gladieux in August 2020, when they decided to cut their armpit-length, wavy, dirty-blonde hair to an above-the-ears pixie cut.

That summer, after over two years of knowing they were nonbinary, Kit came out to most of their friends, changed their name and started using they/them pronouns.

Kit said it was freeing to be themself, but at the same time, they were becoming frustrated with their own body. Their long hair and small

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illustrations by Macey Chamberlin

But when August came around, it was a new school year and Kit’s sophomore year of college. They moved into a new apartment with friends and decided it was time for a change.

They made an appointment at a nearby salon with the first hairdresser who had an open slot. stature still screamed “woman” to most people, and some had a hard time using Kit’s pronouns and new name.

To differentiate themself from when they identified as a woman, they decided they needed to do something drastic to their appearance. The obvious solution to Kit was getting an androgynous haircut.

Long hair felt overly feminine to Kit. Growing up, and especially during their first year of college at Miami University, they struggled with displays of femininity such as wearing “girly” clothing or shaving their legs.

On the day of their hair appointment, Kit walked in and met the woman who would be cutting their hair. She washed Kit’s hair, and the two of them made small talk.

When they were back in the salon chair after the wash, the hairdresser went in with her scissors, cutting off most of the hair length. The first chop horrified Kit because there was no going back. It was out of their hands if it looked good or not. While the hairdresser cut Kit’s hair, she continued to make small-talk and asked what their major at Miami was.

The decision to cut their hair short was something Kit wanted to do for themself, but they also hoped others would perceive them more andogynously.

However, the decision to cut their hair wasn’t an easy one as Kit struggled with their mom’s comments.

“I love your long hair. It’s so pretty.”

“Pixie cuts always look weird on people with round faces because it makes you look even rounder.”

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“I’m in the arts management program,” Kit told her.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” the hairdresser replied. “I’m an artist.”

“Oh, that’s very cool, what do you do?”

“Actually, I’m a prophet.”

“Oh, you’re a prophet?” Kit asked.

“Yeah, I get these messages from the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and I channel them for people.”

Feeling weird and uncomfortable, Kit sat back and just let her cut the hair.

The hairdresser cut the hair in sections, taking off length bit by bit. After cutting it to a bob length, she stopped and confirmed: “You want a pixie cut, right?”

Kit said yes.

The hairdresser asked why Kit wanted to cut their hair as she began removing even more length. Kit didn’t feel comfortable telling this stranger the real reason for their haircut and thought of a generic answer to give her.

“Oh, I just needed a change. I just needed a fresh start, you know?”

Kit’s long-hair-turned-bob now just barely touched their chin. Again, the hairdresser stopped and confirmed: “You want a pixie cut, right?” Again, Kit said yes. It was the final stretch of the haircut.

“I’m actually getting a message for you right now,” the hairdresser said.

“Oh really, you are?” Kit asked. It wasn’t because they were curious, but more because they felt like they had to.

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“I’m seeing a green book,” the hairdresser said. “Do you journal? Do you have a diary?”

“I actually do have a bullet journal, and I carry that thing around with me everywhere, but it’s blue,” Kit said.

“Well, I’m seeing a green book.”

“I guess you could say it’s like a blue-green,” Kit said. They tried to go along with it, not wanting to upset the person cutting their hair.

As she was wrapping up the cuts, snips and trims in Kit’s hair, she said, “This haircut is the start of you becoming your true and real self.”

It was the start of something new for Kit – the start of outwardly expressing the person they were on the inside.

The start of being comfortable in their own skin.

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The hairdresser didn’t know how right she was. It was the start of something new for Kit – the start of outwardly expressing the person they were on the inside. It was the start of being comfortable in their own skin.

The roommates huddled around Kit, taking turns ruffling their hair and offering compliments.

When the hairdresser finished cutting Kit’s hair, she asked if they were ready to blow dry it. She had cut it wet, so Kit didn’t know what it would look like in the end.

“You look like a little fairy!”

“Please, let this look good,” they hoped.

If Kit needed any external validation that the haircut was the right choice for them, this was it.

She dried, combed and styled Kit’s hair. When the final product was ready, Kit looked at themself in the mirror.

“You are so cute!”

“This looks so good on you!”

“Oh shit, that’s me,” they thought. “That is Kit.”

Now, over a year later, Kit’s hair has grown to just above their shoulders, but they think it’s the perfect mix of masculine and feminine for them to be comfortable with.

Losing all of that hair made them feel light and free, both physically and mentally. Shorter hair carried less weight, and their appearance now aligned with how they perceived themself and how they wished to be perceived by others.

However, it wouldn’t have been the same if instead of cutting it to a pixie, they cut their hair to their chin or shoulders. Presenting androgynously helped Kit unlearn their resentment toward femininity they had before.

Kit left the salon and went home to their roommates who were anticipating Kit’s return. They tracked Kit’s location to see when they would be home and ran outside at their arrival.

“You don’t have to be androgynous to be nonbinary,” Kit said. “I know my identity, and the people I love and who matter know my identity, and that’s enough for me at this point in time.” S

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“I’m learning to appreciate the way I present femininely.

I still like the way I look.”

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LOOKING FORWARD

HEARING WEDDING BELLS Exploring the relationships of engaged students at Miami

iske M n a g e M y B At Miami University, a term exists to describe current or former students who are married to each other. The university’s website says that “when two hearts beat as one and both attended Miami, it’s a Miami Merger.”

For most students, marriage isn’t something on their minds when navigating college. While many of them wait until after graduation to consider joining the 13% of university alumni who are married, some students choose to get engaged or married while still in school.

Madison Wells, a junior vocal performance major, and Joseph Supino, a junior psychology major, got engaged in December 2021. The couple already has plans to move to Germany for Wells’ career after their post-graduation wedding in 2023.

Wells and Supino met during their first year of college while living in Collins Hall. They would greet each other when they passed by in the halls before formally meeting in a dining hall.

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“I was definitely pursuing you,” Wells told Supino. “I asked my friends to make me get your name and Snapchat the next time we saw you.”

The next time they saw each other, Supino beat her to the punch and asked for her number. Three days later, on Sept. 16, 2019, they began dating.

This relationship felt very different to Wells because Supino asked her out, which showed how interested he was in her. After seven months together, the COVID-19 pandemic hit and Miami’s campus shut down. Wells had to go back to her hometown of Bettendorf, Iowa, and Supino returned to Columbus, Ohio.

The couple wasn’t sure when they would see eachother next but when they finally reunited, Supino decided it was time to pop the question.

“I got her a vinyl for Christmas,” Supino said. “It was a nice moment because I put it on and we just started dancing to it until I proposed.”

When it came to the engagement, Wells said she knew that it was coming, and she knew Supino had the ring.

illustrations by Hailey Van Boxtel

Supino talked to Wells’ family about the proposal, but he already knew that they would support it because of his close bond with them.

“No one was against it or questioning whether it was a good idea,” Supino said. Wells’ sister even had his phone number saved as “hermano,” which is the Spanish word for brother So far, Wells and Supino haven’t had any problems talking about their engagement among their classmates and peers. People are often curious about how it happened and ask to see the ring with excitement.

While they have felt support from those around them, they understand that they may have to eventually fight off stereotypes surrounding engagement at a young age.

“I feel like a big stereotype for people being engaged young is that they don’t actually know what they are getting themselves into and that they won’t last all that long together,” Supino said. “But I definitely feel that’s a huge misconception, and it’s not really based on much.”

Allison Handorf, a junior social work student, and Jake Bemis, a senior political science student, also had to go long distance during the pandemic, but they met before college.

Handorf and Bemis began dating in 2017 when they were both in high school. They got engaged on a trip to New Orleans, Louisiana, in January 2021 after four years of dating.

Handorf’s family wasn’t surprised when Bemis told them about his plan to propose. To make sure the proposal was still unexpected, they told her not to get her hopes up when she discussed getting engaged.

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Unlike Wells, Handorf didn’t know about the proposal.

While she gave Bemis hints and the two went ring shopping together, she still felt surprised when he popped the question.

Bemis proposed to Handorf on their second day in New Orleans at a historical landmark known as Jackson Square.

After going to an old chapel, he popped the question while they were posing for a picture together.

Unlike other couples, the pandemic brought the pair together. Before Handorf went to Miami, she attended a different school and dated Bemis while doing long distance.

Because they both got sent home from their schools, the couple was able to go on walks and see each other.

After transferring to Miami, Handorf and Bemis moved in together and even adopted a black lab named Milo.

“It has been nice having that dynamic change because it is helping us figure out how to work out our schedules and having time together,” Handorf said.

Planning the wedding has been hard for Handorf, but she said that the wedding vendors have been kind to her and Bemis and respectful of their decision. However, others have not treated them with the same kindness.

“Every now and then I’ll run into a group of people that will laugh or not understand, and I feel judged,” Handorf said.

This engagement is especially meaningful to the pair because of Bemis’ plan to go into the military after graduating from Miami this spring. The couple plans to get married this June.

It is not uncommon for people in the military to become engaged at a young age. According to the Department of Defense Demographics Report, “almost 43% of active duty members are 25 years or younger…over half (56.1%) on active duty are married.”

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First-year zoology major Kaylee Wiesner met Jake Kennedy almost a year ago when they started talking through Snapchat. Kennedy is also in the military. The pair plans on getting legally married soon but won’t have a wedding for two years.

During winter break, the couple became engaged when they went ice skating in downtown Cincinnati. Kennedy pretended to fall, and when Wiesner went to help him up, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him.

“I never understood why military relationships evolved so quickly until the day Jake left for training,” Wiesner said.

“Being put in that situation truly changes you and makes you realize a lot of things about the person you love.”

Kennedy left for basic training in August 2021, so the couple plans on getting double proxy married. Double proxy marriages happen when two people sign a marriage license in front of an officiant, but they aren’t in the same room. They will have the second ceremony in front of their families and loved ones.

All three couples have found themselves becoming the blueprint for many of their friends that are navigating relationships. However, Handorf and Bemis sometimes find this difficult because they are both each other’s first relationship which gives them nothing else to compare it to.

Communication is the one thing they have all agreed is essential.

“The three C’s: comfort, consent and communication,” Supino said. “We express how we feel and we listen.”

While engagement may not be the right option for most students during their time at Miami, some still choose it because they feel confident in their relationship.

“Trust your gut,” Wiesner said. “The person you don’t always think that you would go for could end up being the love of your life.” S

“Trust your gut...”

“...The person you don’t always think that you would go for could end up being the love of your life.”

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CAMPUS

For many college students, school days are packed with difficult exams and lengthy papers. Add extracurricular activities like intramural sports, part-time jobs and academic clubs into the mix, and suddenly it’s challenging to find students who have time for anything but school.

Despite the challenge, some Miami University students have found time to pursue other activities and make money while doing it. They’ve learned how to follow their passions, serve their community and keep up their grades all at the same time.

Carly Wendling, a junior supply chain and operations management major, and Audrey Stevens, a junior marketing and entrepreneurship major, run a spray tan business called Sunnyinox.

“We have always dreamed of starting a business together,” Stevens said. “Last year, Carly was going to get a spray tan at Palm Beach Tan and asked me to join her because she was nervous to go alone. We realized that the machines were not customizable to different colors and often missed angles which left an orange tan.”

The girls went that same day to buy all of their own spray tan supplies and start practicing. Their spray booth is located in the hallway of Wendling’s apartment, and they store all their supplies in a nearby bathroom.

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Sunnyinox serves approximately 50 customers per month.

Their business gives students a cheaper and more accessible option than large chains, making them a popular alternative. They typically book in increments of 15 minutes, though a spray only takes about 10. Since Wendling and Stevens are also students themselves, they work hard to balance their academics and their business.

“We prioritize class and other commitments first and make our schedule based around those,” Wendling said.

“School during the day, clubs in the early evening and business at night.”

Their customers tend to follow a similar schedule, so Wendling and Stephens said that being available to tan people at night is a necessity. Large chains that offer spray tans often close early in the evening, but Sunnyinox serves students past 11 p.m. upon request.

illustrations by Libbey Hansen

Last semester, Wendling and Stevens made around $2,750. They charge $20 per spray, and about half of their clients tip $3-5. A typical week of business for the girls includes around 10 to 12 sprays, which averages out to approximately five hours of work per week.

Wendling and Stevens have learned that running a business can be difficult logistically, especially with no prior experience.

Figuring out the little things such as scheduling, finding customers, and picking the right products can become time-consuming.

“When you are just starting it is a lot of trial and error, so we just had to be flexible and realize that we can constantly grow and adapt,” Wendling said.

Another student business, The Stamped Poppy, has also gained popularity at Miami. The custom stamped rings and keychains business is owned and operated by sophomore Tara Grambo, an emerging technology in business and design major. Grambo operates out of her dorm room. She discovered her passion for jewelry stamping, which involves hammering designs into metal, over quarantine.

“

Grambo found a video of jewelry stamping and decided to try it out. Since then, she has transported all of her supplies between Oxford and Cleveland to work from both locations. She also offers shipping and has sold her products to 15 different states, ranging from coast to coast. Grambo works three to 10 hours per week on average, depending on her schoolwork. The profit she makes directly reflects the hours she puts in that week.

However, one disadvantage Grambo has faced is worrying about other people living in the dorm.

“Stamping rings is noisy,” Grambo said. “Last year, I would stamp my rings in the common area of my dorm because I was afraid to disrupt anyone. I have a wooden

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Finding a hobby that also makes money was the best of both worlds for Grambo. She not only learned how to predict and order supplies, budget finances and market the brand, but she also learned about herself and her community in the process.

“I get to meet so many new people,” Grambo said. “I offer local pickup at my dorm, and I love when I get to meet the faces that ordered a ring from behind a screen.”

Some of Miami’s student businesses have expanded past campus. Urban Luxe, a women’s lifestyle fashion brand, has grown quite popular since it opened in January 2020. With over 30,000 Instagram followers, junior fashion entrepreneurship and emerging technology in business and design major, Sophia Blasi founded the business and has found success.

“The e-commerce brand is a fast-growing retail destination for women that have an urge to go out of their comfort zone and find their personal style,” Blasi said.

“We pride ourselves on affordable, yet unique pieces and

platform, a rubber block and rubber under my steel block to try and reduce noise.”

Grambo entered her first year of college as a kinesiology major on the physical assistant track. She worried that college was not for her because she felt lost and didn’t know why.

“After realizing that I was lacking a creative outlet, I decided that I needed to consider changing my career path,” Grambo said. “I love what I am doing, and I wouldn’t have discovered that I was on the wrong path if it wasn’t for the realization that I need to let myself be creative.”

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“

”

long-lasting relationships with our clients and giving them the best experience possible.”

states and five countries. Blasi said that taking on an entrepreneurship role while in school comes with downsides.

Many women on campus wear pieces from Urban Luxe.

Some of her hottest items include the zebra flared pants, leopard crop top, and wavy sweater pants. Blasi said that pieces with fun and funky prints are selling the best. Even though she is a student herself, picking clothing that her target audience would like can be strenuous.

“The hardest part right now is still being in Oxford and being in school,” Blasi said. “Miami is a great campus, but I feel like I am just ready to be putting my mind on Urban [Luxe] 24/7 while not having to worry about getting good grades or doing homework.”

“The hardest part for me was probably continuing to find inspiration while being in a small town like Oxford,” Blasi said. “There’s just not much to observe and learn in terms of fashion and art. I try hard to travel as much as possible and constantly keep up with virtual fashion shows, social media and other cool platforms.”

While everyone’s story is a little different, these business owners all have one thing in common: Their passion and hard work have allowed them to create something that they can carry with them into the future. Whether their business turns into a full-time career or it closes after their time at Miami ends, the knowledge they have developed will stay with them for the rest of their lives. S

Urban Luxe operates entirely online. Blasi averages around $8,000 a month in sales and has sold to all 50

“ It’s funny because I could

probably drop out of school if I really wanted to. But I think being a well-rounded person is an important thing to have in the business world, and having an education really strengthens that quality

”

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EXPERIENCE

Funeral, Disrupted Grieving the dead and facing the living

By David Kwiatkowski

Three years ago, my grandma on my mom’s side died. I never know how to act when it comes to death.

My grandma was the most open and caring person I had ever known. She always tried to stay up to date in my life as much as possible. She never judged my interests and always accepted me for who I was as a gay man.

When I was young and interested in Bratz dolls, she bought me a Bratz drum set. One day, I was watching MTV’s “America’s Best Dance Crew,” and instead of asking me to change the channel, she sat with me and watched. I remember her asking questions about the different dance teams and enjoying the music.

She always smelled of Chanel No. 5, which I didn’t know was her scent until I desperately asked my boss at my internship last summer what she was wearing because she smelled like my grandma.

I meant it as a compliment, but I think it got lost in translation.

My 80-year-old grandma was with the culture.

The last time I saw her was when she was in the nursing home. Her memory was pretty much nonexistent, and she asked me if I had a girlfriend. Usually, that would shut me down, but I knew that it was dementia talking and not ignorance.

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illustrations by Macey Chamberlin

I couldn’t cry at my grandma’s funeral, but I think it was because I knew she was in a better place. She’d been in pain for a long time. But, when I looked around and saw everyone else crying, I started to feel guilty. They knew she was in a better place, and they were crying, so why couldn’t I? Looking back at the service, I wonder if I was just too distracted by the selfishness of the living to allow myself to grieve for the dead. *** My parents divorced my senior year of high school, and to say it was messy would be an understatement. Granted, my parents were not happy together. They probably would have been better suited getting a divorce when I was a kid.

As in most divorces, people took sides. Many people on my father’s side disconnected themselves from my mom.

Some parted ways amicably, while others didn’t hide the fact they weren’t the biggest fans to begin with.

This caused a lot of tension and anger between people who used to be considered friends and family. It all started with my grandma’s boyfriend Bob, who insulted my mom at the beginning of the funeral.

When I was younger, Bob was as close to a grandfather as I would get from my mom’s side since my actual grandfather

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died before I was born. But that day, I didn’t see any of the old man who used to laugh so loud the house would shake and tell such good stories that I grew not to care how many times I had heard them.

I had just learned that before the funeral, he’d thrown away photographs of me and my sister that were hung up in my grandma’s hospital room.

The world had turned him cold.

As a family member, I had to be part of the line of people who stood up at the front and greeted everyone who attended the funeral.

He came up to my younger sister and me and told us how sorry he was about our grandma’s death minutes after calling my mom incompetent for the hairstyle she chose for my grandma.

I stood there politely and hugged him despite wanting to freeze. He went to my sister and did the same, but he placed his hands on her shoulders for too long. Instead of jumping in and breaking it up, I darted away into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Why didn’t I just push that old man down the stairs?

I thought as I looked into the mirror. Sure, I would have committed murder, but it would have been better than just standing there.

I washed my hands multiple times and wondered how I would get through the day.

When I returned from the bathroom, I saw that Tammy had decided to attend.

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*** Tammy used to be so close to me that I would call her my favorite auntie, despite not being related by blood.

Her daughters were my favorite cousins, and her husband was my favorite uncle. However, we weren’t so close anymore.

After the divorce, Tammy texted me one day and asked me if I would like to visit her mother. She used to be like another grandma to me, and she was dying of cancer.

I knew I had to see her.

When I arrived at her mother’s house, my father who I hadn’t seen in months was there, along with Tammy, who smiled at my sister and me as we entered the room and told us to have a seat.

The following two hours involved Tammy saying awful things about my mom, including how she was unfit to parent, how we shouldn’t trust her, and how Tammy’s mother’s dying wish was that I spend more time with my father. Her mother agreed.

I couldn’t understand where this was coming from, but looking back, I realized that Tammy had a way of manipulating people and her mother was in a lot of pain.

I don’t hold it against her.

In December 2019, when Tammy’s mother passed away, it was heavily implied that my mom was not invited to the funeral. Tammy had her daughter lie to my sister and me that the funeral was “family-only.” I later found out that everyone else I was related to got to go, except for me, my mom and my sister.

I know my mom, though. As much as she wanted to say goodbye to Tammy’s mother, she would not have done something as cold-blooded as showing up to someone’s funeral uninvited.

And yet, here Tammy was, showing up to my grandma’s funeral. Uninvited. *** The line was still moving. I stood there staring blankly ahead, hugging people I didn’t know. Then, Tammy came in, arms outstretched, approaching my mom for a hug.

“No, bitch!” my mom said, moving on to the next person.

Tammy was dumbfounded.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this here!” she exclaimed, turning to hug me.

“I’m so sorry this is happening to you, David,” she said to me.

In a catatonic state, I raised my arms and hugged her. I didn’t know what to do. My body was on autopilot. The most I could do was give her an attitude-ridden “Thanks.”

Tammy went to the back of the room and laughed, telling everyone how my mom called her a bitch. I felt terrible that I stood there and did nothing. Everyone hugged me because I didn’t put up a fight.

Everyone hugged me because I didn’t put up a fight.

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My mom ran to the funeral home basement, wiping tears from her eyes. I came back to life and followed her.

“David, you have five minutes to get that woman out of here, or I am going to kick her ass,” she said to me.

I knew she meant it. I could tell by the tone in her voice and by the fact she had taken off her stiletto heels.

I turned, nodded, walked upstairs and went straight into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, I set a six-minute timer and watched the clock run down. I couldn’t believe how heated this had become. I wanted my mom to beat Tammy up. I wanted it so badly. I am not one to wish violence on anyone, but I had never felt so betrayed.

I had been caught in the crossfire of problems that had nothing to do with me yet again.

My mom has her faults, but she still deserved to grieve her mother peacefully. I took a deep breath and ran cold water on my hands.

I finally left the bathroom to see that Tammy was still there, and I began shaking. I fumbled with my hands as I rocked back and forth and stared at her from across the room. My sister and I watched as Tammy began to spin the narrative that my mom had lost her mind.

How did the day meant to be about my grandma become about Tammy?

Tammy eventually left, laughing on her way out, but I was already too far gone. I had to take a bathroom break every five minutes to hyperventilate alone.

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At the end of the funeral, I went up to my grandma lying in her coffin.

“I’m so sorry, Grandma.” *** My mom, sister and I have flashbacks to that day, which hasn’t been easy. Even now, I have no idea who invited Tammy to the funeral. Not that it matters. I can forgive, but I will most certainly never forget. I was robbed of the day designated to grieve my grandma properly.

So, I’ve had to find other ways to remember her.

We always spent Christmas Eve at her house, and that day has now officially become our day of remembrance for her. Last Christmas, I was in isolation with COVID-19 and this was the aspect of the holidays that I missed the most.

Our birthdays were also two days apart, so I got a tattoo of our astrological sign with a periwinkle flower. The flower symbolized the name of her street, and whenever I find myself thinking about her, I glance down at my tattoo.

One time when I was little, my younger sister and I stayed over at my grandma’s house for a weekend. On the second day, we cried about wanting to go home. Our parents eventually picked us up, but I’ll never forget what my mom said to me.

“One day, you’re going to regret missing out on that time with your grandma.”

I do. And I always will. S

“One day, you’re going to regret missing out on that time with your grandma.”

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PROFILE

How Brett Novits led his Counter-Strike team to victory

It was the final map in the series when junior anthropology and political science major Brett “Prospektion” Novits got ready for the knife round. Whoever wins this will dictate which side they start on — terrorists or counterterrorists.

Prospektion, captain of Miami University’s Counter Strike: Global Offensive (CS:GO) team, prepared for this video game the same way he always does — strategizing with his team, 45 minutes of warm-up and a five minute break from his computer.

The pistol round (the first round of each match where the only weapon players can use is their pistol) kicks off inside a map called Vertigo, which places the players on top of a skyscraper in a nameless city. The rooftop appears to be under construction as yellow cranes and random equipment litter the scene.

Miami starts off as the terrorists.

“It’s easy when you watch things to see what you did wrong,” Prospektion said, just 30 seconds after we began reviewing the footage from the round.

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illustrations by Zhengxiang Xu & Macey Chamberlin

But that’s one thing about CS:GO — there’s always something happening, and time passes at an impossible rate. The structure of the game is set up a lot like volleyball, except instead of spandex and a net, players have specialty chairs and headsets. Each game is broken up into three maps, and each map is a best-of-30-round. Each round can be two and a half minutes at most.

However, the team prepares for hours just so everyone is ready when the clock starts ticking.

Prospektion and his four teammates use Room 114 in King Library for practices, which he tries to organize at least twice a week. Theory practice, which is typically held on Saturdays, is where they talk about the game and what they would do in certain situations without really playing it out. They go over past matches with demo review, as Prospektion calls it, which is equivalent to film review in football.

As the team captain, Prospektion acts as a sort of manager and coach to the other four players. He sets up every match, coordinates every practice, holds tryouts and helps plan strategies.

“I’ve played a lot of games, but Counter Strike is the one that captivates me at a competitive level because it is the most balanced game I’ve ever played,” Prospektion said.

Within each round, the main objective of the terrorists is to plant a bomb, and the counter terrorists have to diffuse it before it goes off. Whoever finds success wins the

round. After each round, the screen resets and they go again. After round 15, they switch sides, and the counter terrorists become the terrorists and vice versa.

Every map starts with a pistol round, meaning the only weapons they can use are their pistols.

“RedHawks baby, kawkaw!” said one of Prospektion’s teammates.

A light comes across the screen and blinds our view of the game for a few seconds. Prospektion paused the game to explain what had just happened. Someone had set off a flashbang which is a weapon used to blind an opponent.

“We’re about to see another one right now,” he said.

“Then you’ll see I corrected him for it.”

It was thrown by a member of Prospektion’s team.

The teammate had used it to blind the opponent in case they were waiting around the corner they were about to round. But even if the opposing team saw the flash first, they’d know Miami’s team would be right there and start shooting anyway.

Prospektion doesn’t speak much during these games.

He has another teammate who acts as the team’s “quarterback” and calls plays and strategies as he sees fit. Prospektion only speaks when he feels he needs to — either to call out a bad play or notify his team about the opposing team’s location.

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He makes his kills with the same seamless efficiency. He leans forward in his chair just before his character shoots an opponent from below.

CS:GO is the most balanced game he’s ever played which is why it appeals to him competitively. Everyone starts off on a bare-bones level. Experience and understanding is key. The maps have tons of lingo, and if you don’t know exactly where everything is before you even enter, you’ve already lost. You can fall off the sides of buildings and accidently kill your own character if you don’t know what’s around every corner.

There’s an economic aspect that doesn’t exist in a lot of other games. Teammates can send weapons to one another. You can be rewarded with currency after doing well in a round, and you can have an advantage over another team based on the rounds you’ve already played. But if you don’t know how to budget and spend, you could end up weaponless in a later round.

Miami switches sides and becomes the counter-terrorists after round 15.

As they sweep through multiple rounds, making kill after kill, Prospektion explains to me that they’re operating with a “good offense is a good defense” mindset throughout the last few minutes.

He hits his stride when he gets a hold of an AWP, which is the term they use to describe a heavy sniper rifle. He can now do his job for the team.

A timeout is called. One of Miami’s players needs to go change out the rag that has been resting on his forehead throughout the entire map. He got his first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine earlier, and he has been playing with a fever of 102 degrees.

The game resumes, and so does Prospektion’s focus. He keeps emphasizing his position to me. In rounds 21 and 22, he sat in the same corner of the map, waiting.

Hell is the name of the corner Prospektion is camped out in. There’s a raised platform to the right named Heaven, but he’s more comfortable with the viewpoint Hell offers him.

This is his main role for the team: the “AWPer,” (a designated player who carries the expensive AWP rifle and secures key shots). From Hell, he can see opponents as they approach, but they can’t see him. Prospektion notices the other team doesn’t utilize this vantage point. Once they switch sides, he is able to get his hands on an AWP, and he uses it to take them down.

Because of him, they won the 22nd round, which marked their 16th win of the map – best of 30.

When he clicked pause again, I waited for his next grandiose explanation.

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What had I missed?

Nothing. That was it. Forty-five minutes of footage review of a game I had never played or seen before, and one that I barely understood. It felt like maybe 15 or 20 minutes had gone by.

It hits me that this is one of the game’s greatest appeals: it speeds up time.

Prospektion hates free time. Maybe hate is too strong a word, but think of it this way — if time is money, then Prospektion would sooner spend every cent than open a savings account.

“When you have four hours of free time per day because your homework is done and your club meetings are all done, or there isn’t one today, you’ve gotta pick up something to fill the time,” Prospektion said.

So, he sits down in front of his mouse and keyboard, and he slips on his custom Miami esports jersey with his name gleaming across the back in bold silver font.

He pulled up some of his highlight reels. One kill in particular he played a few times.

He blindly shot and killed someone through a smoke screen. He had heard the other player shoot at him on his way to retrieve weapons from the inside of a building.

Then, on his way out, he fired back into a wall of fog and hit his target.

He tells me how frustrated he was when he found out he hadn’t recorded the kill. He had to go through a downloading process to get the clip so he could have it to share with people. He remembers it taking anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. The clip was less than 10 seconds long.

He cracks his fingers before he pushes the keyboard back against the server.

Though he’s managed to play on a college varsity level, and on a team outside Miami, Prospektion sees himself retiring at age 23 at the latest. It’s like skateboarding in the sense that, if at age 17 your career hasn’t taken off yet, it’s because it’s probably not going to.

“I’m 20 years old, my career is more than half over already,” Prospektion said. “I’m probably going to retire at 22 or 23 because that’s when most people retire if they haven’t made it. Some people stick it out until they’re 27 or 30.”

He’s studying abroad this coming summer and hopes to go to The Cathedral of Counter-Strike in Cologne, Germany. It’s a major landmark near the Lanxess Arena, where many CS:GO gaming tournaments have been played.

Until then, he’ll pass the time and hopefully get to play his role in Hell. S * Miami University’s CS:GO team is no longer a registered Esports team.

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