The Miscellany News
Vassar College’s student newspaper of record since 1866
April 23, 2020
miscellanynews.org
Volume 153 | Issue 10
Living and learning with loneliness of past, present Lindsay Craig Columnist
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rom the outside, my life might not look lonely. I have a great family, have a handful of close friends and belong to a robust community. On campus, I was never the most popular, but I was satisfied with the few strong connections I slowly and intentionally built over the last 3.75 years. I tried to surround myself with others by hosting dinners, running, volunteering, laughing and playing with housemates. I led prayer meetings, tried a few sports teams and went on leadership retreats. I planned meals, library study sessions, coffee shop getaways, hikes and daily phone calls to connect with family. Although I am proudly (highly) introverted, I never lacked friendship or community at any stage of my life—including college. That said, I struggled a lot with loneliness at Vassar. On almost a daily basis, I had this insatiable desire for intimacy that was never fully met by the friends or faculty around me. I didn’t understand why pangs of loneliness would hit me so often, given how I avoided solitude with a vengeance despite probably needing more of it. Above all else, I feared eating alone. At one
‘Onward’: Fresh, fun, magical Leila Raines
Guest Columnist
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ike many members of my generation, I grew up watching Pixar films. When I was in kindergarten, I obsessed over “Toy Story” and “Monsters, Inc.,” watching them so many times that I began to believe that my toys were secretly alive and my closet was actually a portal to a world of monsters. I can still remember the vibrant orange frosting on my “Finding Nemo” birthday cake when I turned three. All of these movies are an integral part of my life, nourishing my childhood with imagination and adventure. My love for Disney and Pixar has only strengthened over time; being able to re-watch these movies and find new meanings has given me a deeper appreciation for these stories. And with recent hits such as “Inside Out” and “Coco,” the studio continues to tell meaningful, and oftentimes emotional, stories with strong, lasting messages and memorable characters. So, when I first saw the teaser See ONWARD on page 6
point sophomore year, I attempted to schedule both lunch and dinner with a different friend every day, seven days a week. That came to a weekly total of 14 meals with 14 different people: a steady rotation of friends and acquaintances from Sunday to Saturday. This rhythm was exhausting and unsustainable (not to say nearly impossible with so many schedules to coordinate). By the end of each week I felt just as disintegrated and lonely as I did at the start. By the time senior year arrived, I thought I had finally defeated any remnant of loneliness through the housemates and friendships that were secured and strengthened after three years. But I was wrong—loneliness lingered. This persistent reality hit me in the fall after making a “gourmet” meal with a close friend followed by enjoying games and a movie. When she left after hours of being together, I immediately ached with emptiness. She probably didn’t know that I washed the dishes in tears at 10 p.m. I was confronted with my raw self again, uninterrupted by her warm company. It hurt every time someone left my SoCo. This spring, my (almost daily) running buddy and confidant See LONELINESS on page 7
Above is Mickalene Thomas’ “Afro Goddess Looking Forward,” 2017. Rhinestones, acrylic and oil on wood panel. Image courtesy of the artist via artatatimelikethis.com.
We need art in times like these Nina Ajemian Copy Staffer
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hen the first college I applied to rejected me, I watched the pilot episode of ‘New Girl’ for the first time. All I knew about the show was that Jess, the spunky, loving, and, although the word is controversial and I’m hesitant to use it, “quirky” protagonist had just been dumped. I figured that we were probably in similar emotional states and that it was a timely show for me to start watching. I have since turned back to ‘New Girl’ more than a few times
over the past year—whenever I needed to be cheered up or to remind myself that I’m not alone in feeling sad. Recently, I’ve been thinking about how we consume media; my reliance on ‘New Girl’ as a coping mechanism seems to have grown increasingly relevant during my time in quarantine. What is it about a TV show that can make everything in the world feel OK for 22 minutes, even if the world really isn’t OK? On the surface, you could say that television simply distracts.
When you’re watching an engaging episode, you’re too busy focusing on the show to remember why you had been sad or anxious or lonely. But I think it goes deeper than that. Television, like all types of media, is art. And art, whether it’s painting, writing, sculpture, photography, dance, music or film, makes us feel. Everything. Blissful, nostalgic, raging, crestfallen, wistful, exhilarated, hopeful, connected. The power of art lies in its ability to capture its creator’s feelings and throw See ART NOW on page 6
Investigation: Why Tinder, and why today? Duncan Aronson, Frankie Knuckles, Lucy Leonard, Jessica Moss Senior Editor, Managing Editor, Senior Editor, Editor-in-Chief
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ince quarantine became a thing, all the usual (read: Zuckerberg-owned) apps have been hopping—whether with news, memes, recipes, unwarranted opinions, dangerous advice, or what have you. But we at The Miscellany News wondered what became of Tinder, an app that often relies more on a, shall we say, “physical” presence. Each of us created a profile labeling ourselves as student journalists and turned our bios into an open invitation to engage with us in an on-the-record conversation. We swiped right on everyone—including, awkwardly, a collection of classmates—and let the social experimentation begin. Tinder turned out to be far from a social-distancing induced wasteland: Users were present, numerous, and sharply self-aware of why they were spending their quarantine on the app. For many users we interacted with, Tinder conversations serve as a coping mechanism—a low-stakes, but potentially high-reward place to engage in human interaction. Bumping into strangers or encountering cool people at a party may not be possible while quarantine measures are in place, but Tinder can satisfy the desire to move through new social circles. For Tin-
derer Catie, the app has become the “only outlet for meeting new people.” She explained that before social distancing measures were put in place, she didn’t even have an account. For Catie, Tinder’s random collection of people allows her to escape from her present situation: “With not being able to get out into the world and meet new people or even just see a stranger, it’s comforting to know that there’s still people out beyond your houses walls,” she said. A paramedic working in the Dutchess and Ulster area also described using Tinder as a means of escapism. “[Tinder] is nice to disconnect from the news and connect with an actual human which is gratifying,” they explained, but described Tinder as a “superficial” means of socializing compared to a concrete group of friends. This approach seemed to be common among some of the essential workers we talked to on the app. Oliver, a worker at a family owned grocery store, described not feeling safe at work: “I kinda see it as a hub for the virus. If people are afraid to go out in public but need groceries they aren’t going to go far, and they are gonna come to our grocery store. There’s alSee Tinder on pages 2-3