The Lumberjack



Students Serving The Cal Poly Humboldt Campus and Community Since 1929

Tag: Opinion

  • Jasmin’s Corner: We’re all fucking the same people

    Jasmin’s Corner: We’re all fucking the same people

    by Jasmin Shirazian

    Hi Jasmin, 

    So, my community is running low on eligible and promiscuous singles. The whole town is starting to feel incestuous because we’ve all fucked each other, and it’s becoming more difficult to have casual sex with new people. Any advice? 

    If there were any words of warning I wish I had received before coming to this fuck-bucket of a dating pool, it would be that the ‘pool’ is definitely more of a puddle. This is one of those situations where no matter what kind of advice I could give you, the only true solution to this problem is to get the hell out of Dodge – or in this case, Humboldt. 

    Humboldt is so peculiar in its ratio of available hotties; the amount of beautiful women and non-binary/gender-fluid/etc folks is damn near abundant, whereas the variety and hotness of the male population is um… less than ideal. Like, bottom-of-the-barrel less than ideal. I’ve definitely said this before and I’ll definitely say it again, but the four variations of man that exist in Humboldt are all dirty in their own way. I’ve been lucky enough to track down and secure the hottest of the hotties, but not everyone is as aggressive as I am, so I understand the struggle. My point is, the ratio makes it even harder to find a new body, depending on which way(s) you swing. 

    Now, not all hope is lost. My roommates and I have been holding our breaths, hoping that this next wave of transfers coming for our brand-new Cal Poly title will bring at least a couple hundred hotties with it. If even that doesn’t end up panning out for you, then I think we both know what you need to do: if you’ve fucked all there is to be fucked, you must spread your wings and fuck elsewhere. Otherwise, you’re just fucking yourself – which, I’m sure you’ve already considered. 

    xoxo, 

    jasmin

  • Low effort and loving it

    by Zack Mink

    Being in your I-don’t-give-a-f*ck (IDAGF) era means that you do what you need to do for yourself. For me currently, this means I’m showing up to class in the same outfits every week, or pressing snooze on my alarm and committing to wearing pajamas all day. It’s giving low effort although I’m still on top of school and work because, “that’s what really matters,” as my Grandma would say. 

    I love clothes, thrifting, design, etc., but who am I trying to impress when I’m running to The Depot during a ten minute break? I’m tired of dressing up for the one cute guy in my class who doesn’t even know my name (yet). I’m done wasting a good outfit on a day when I’m sitting in one classroom for multiple classes back to back. Being as thoughtless as I am when it comes to my daily appearance takes a lot of work though. It takes a sense of style, confidence, and a certain je-ne-sais-quoi you would only know from hitting rock-bottom, possibly even multiple times. 

    When I say hitting rock-bottom, I mean a struggle you have had in life that you learned from. Something that taught you a life lesson, brought a growth opportunity. No judgment to the people who have never been to therapy, but working to improve yourself is super important. It’s a time when you focus on loving yourself, owning your flaws, and working to improve yourself however that looks for you. It’s also hot, so if you have never been to therapy I highly recommend taking advantage of the free resources campus provides. Focusing on your personal growth brings you a third-of-the-way to thriving in your IDGAF era; the second part is being confident. Luckily… you’ve had some time now to work on yourself, learned a life lesson or two, gained some emotional maturity, and are feeling happy with how far you’ve come. 

    The turning point for me was my junior year of high school. It was the third high school I went to, so during the first week I took advantage of the fact that I was the new kid. Being my bold self, I ran for treasurer with no one even knowing my name. I didn’t win, but it was still fun to just not take it too seriously, break down my walls and be confident in who I was. Some may say that was actually the beginning of my IDGAF era.

    The missing piece to being successful in your IDGAF era is having a sense of style. Like I said, I’m an outfit repeater and wear the same exact things every week. Not to brag, but I do consistently get compliments on my eight dollar sweatshirt and the t-shirt I thrifted that has a huge hole in the armpit. Maybe it’s the low standards of Arcata, or maybe I’m just delusional, but all you need is some style to pull off being low effort and presentable.

    Once you’ve reached this point, you can truly enjoy the world around you. You have prioritized yourself, grown emotionally, and gained confidence allowing you to be successful in the other aspects of your life. You also look cute and are the mysterious person someone thinks about after seeing you walk to class. So be free my little birds, get help – because if you’ve read this far you need it, and I wish you a pleasant journey finding your successful low effort lifestyle.
    If you are in need of emotional and mental health support, please reach out to Counseling & Psychological Services at humboldtcaps@humboldt.edu or call 707.826.3146 to sign up for free mental health/counseling services through TimelyCare.

  • Step into the Humboldt party scene: a review

    by Christina Mehr

    Some say there’s no party scene here in Humboldt to have an opinion on, but they’re the people who have no friends and aren’t getting invited to things in the first place. Stay mad. For a campus that claims to be a dry campus, it is certainly most not. Just take a look outside and you’ll smell the scent of earthy weed being consumed by students. Up here, it’s pretty much part of the culture to be involved in the stoner community. Aside from the magnificent coastal redwoods, people know Humboldt as a place that grows good weed.

    Photo by Christina Mehr

    Assuming you’re into the party scene here at Humboldt, then you’re aware of the infamous Nicki House. You can see this party venue from the JGC parking lot, adorned with a flag of Nicki Minaj saluting an American flag. Most “venues” are just an inside space where party-goers can hang out, listening to shitty music and conversing with the same three people you came with, but the Nicki house however has something special. The house is run by all women who are reclaiming the frat party vibe. 

    If dressed in the theme, guys’ entry to these parties are five dollars and girls get in for free. If you’re one to participate in hookup culture, then you’re screwed with that ratio unless you play for both teams. Themes have ranged from Y2K to blackout, to a comfy pajama party. The themed parties bring a sense of playfulness into regular gatherings. The way the community connects is through drugs, alcohol, music and trying to leave the crowded house.

    The cons, there’s only one way in and out of the house which poses a threat of danger in case of emergency. The house itself is quite crowded with the line to get in out the door, but if you’re into the sweaty bump and grind you’ll fit in just fine. If you can’t make it into the main house, or are too cheap to, there’s plenty of overflow out front where the beer pong table sits. Party places are like fads, they come and go, just like the entire freshman class pulling up to the same party. 

    If you know how to have a good time, then you’re part of the population who is living it up in college. The best way to make the most out of your weekend? Pregame with your closest friends, have a few drinks, smoke a joint and find a party. That is until the party gets shut down 45 minutes after starting and the cops start playing beer pong.

  • Fuck your bare feet

    Fuck your bare feet

    by Alana Hackman

    Call me a conservative, but making this statement in Arcata of all places is bound to get me into some trouble; I don’t want to see your feet. Yes, we’ve made plenty of jokes about it in the paper and it is a topic of discussion on various platforms like Yik Yak and Cal Poly Humboldt confessions, but I am someone who feels very strongly about this subject. Far enough to get a crop top stating “I support shoes” on it. 

    Let me explain a few things first: I’m not a foot hater. I wouldn’t say I’m appalled by bare feet or find them disgusting, nor do I have an issue with the anatomical structure of a bare foot alone. I do, however, have an issue with the time and place in which they are presented, which seems to be 24/7 in Arcata. No shoes, no shirt, no service? Never seen a sign like that here aside from Dead Reckoning Tavern (shoutout to y’all). I kiss the ground of the establishments that display those signs when I’m back home. In the figure-of-speech way – kissing the ground is unsanitary, which is why your raw foot skin should not be on them. 

    I will turn a blind eye to bare toes in select places. A few examples include the beach, the pool, and, hell, even the community forest. I get the whole ‘earthing’ thing making you more connected to the Earth’s energy, and how your shoes constrict your feet yea-yea-yea – but how much positive Earth rays are really flowing through the third floor of the library, or the human feces riddled streets of California? Don’t even get me started on seeing shoe-less folks in the health center. I guess I can sometimes get behind the stripped soles movement, but only if you’ve ingested a handful of psychedelics and are questioning all of your moral beliefs.

    Basically, what I’m getting to is public enclosed settings should be off limits for the flashing of phalanges. I’ve seen way too many toes mingling under group tables in the library, and don’t remind me of the woman’s toes gripping the corner of a barstool cushion at Everett’s. Have y’all ever heard of plantar’s wart or athlete’s foot? Like, seriously, I get it that everywhere has germs and gross things, but I can promise some of y’all bare feet boosters are tucking those dusty things right into bed with you every night.

    Listen, as long as you’re scrubbing those babies good before bed and when you enter a home, I guess I can’t go too far with my opinion. Just please keep them out of public places! Slap a pair of tevas or sandals on and call it a day. I’d say my support of body autonomy ends at the bare feeters of Arcata, California.

  • Manic? Don’t panic!

    Manic? Don’t panic!

    by Savana Robinson

    This year, I had a manic episode that lasted from January to March. During that episode, I got very little sleep. I was burying myself in any work that I could find, and my mom said I sounded different. 

    Manic episodes can be caused by a number of things. High stress levels, trauma, changes in sleep patterns or lack of sleep, using recreational drugs or alcohol, or the time of year; some people are more prone to mania in the spring. Mania is classically associated with bipolar disorder, and is also known as the “high” compared to the “low” of a depressive episode.

    According to the Cleveland Clinic, symptoms of mania include, “feelings of invincibility, lack of sleep, racing thoughts and ideas, rapid talking and having false beliefs or perceptions.” For example, during my manic episode, I would go without sleeping for a couple of days at a time and I was talking everybody’s ears off about how I planned to be a motorcycle journalist, or how that semester’s Osprey was going to be the best magazine to come out of this school (it was a banger, though). It wasn’t until one of my roommates sat me down and told me that I was manic that I realized I had not been my normal self for months. I accepted what she had to say, but the only thing I could think to do to help myself was try to get some sleep and just get back to normal; that’s not how it works. I should have gotten help then, but it wasn’t until a month later that I got help the hard way through multiple 5150 holds and a nine-day stay in a psychiatric facility. Listening to those around me was the most beneficial thing that I did during my episode. If I hadn’t let the university police help me by transporting me to Mad River Hospital, where I was put on 5150 for the first time, I might not be writing this.

    If I could go back and do it again, or if I had to get help for someone else, this is what I would do: call 988. That number is not only a suicide hotline, but it’s a mental health crisis hotline. It’s easy to remember in case you can’t find the local number (707-445-7715) and they will give you tips on how to get help for yourself or others. Next, I would make an appointment with a psychiatrist. This can be done through your general practitioner. Students can make an appointment with Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS). CAPS can be contacted at 707-826-3236.

    Well, I hope this helps. If you have any questions or just want to talk about mental health, email me at sr424@humboldt.edu.

    24hr National Suicide & Crisis Hotline: 988

    24hr Humboldt County Crisis Hotline: 707-445-7715

    Cal Poly Humboldt Counseling and Psychological Services: 707-826-3236

  • Pop meets Y2K grunge in “GUTS”

    Pop meets Y2K grunge in “GUTS”

    by Kianna Znika

    As someone who’s been listening to a lot of early 2000’s alternative/female pop rock lately, I really like the new Olivia Rodrigo album. The girl just gets it, truly.

    “GUTS” makes me feel like I’m the main character in an early 2000’s film, reminding me of some of my childhood favorite movies like “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.” She reminds me of Avril Lavigne and P!nk, delivering stories in her lyrics that even I as a twenty-five-year old can relate to. I love alternative music and I think, as far as pop stars in mainstream music go, Rodrigo does just get it. Everyone who disagrees, I think you’re just being a hater – genuinely. 

    I think a lot of people don’t validate Rodrigo’s angst because she is a young popular artist, but honestly just a few minutes into the album you’ll hear the grunge influences in her track “all-american bitch.” Close your eyes and listen to the chorus and tell me that isn’t Hole. Tell me that isn’t modern-day feminist punk music. I’m in a feminist punk band, I listen to niche artists, and I’m telling you right now: I love Rodrigo’s sound.

    People on the internet were trying to make fun of her screaming in the record, but I think they just didn’t get what she was going for. I don’t think Rodrigo is trying to be the next Bring Me The Horizon; let’s be so for real. I think her choice to scream like that was intentional, an artistic choice that reminds me of Regina George screaming in Mean Girls. If you keep that image in mind, you’ll see that Rodrigo perfectly channels the thoughts and feelings of an angry teenage girl. It’s intentional. It’s poetic, really.

    That’s why listening to her music is so much fun for me. It’s healing. I can still relate to the antisocial, insecure themes that are present in songs such as “ballad of a homeschool girl.” I can definitely relate to having conflicted feelings about an ex, which is a present theme in songs like “bad idea right?” 

    “Yes I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend – Biggest lie I ever said.”

    I know a majority of you can relate to that, too. It’s like an era that we all have to go through at some point in our life, and Rodrigo knows that.

    The only song I really couldn’t vibe with was “vampire,” which doesn’t surprise me because I didn’t care too much for “driver’s license” from her first record either. I don’t listen to Olivia Rodgrigo for her slower material. I think she truly excels as an angsty artist and I’m glad that she’s continuing to explore that realm. 

    Whether or not you end up liking the album yourself, I at least hope more people give Olivia Rodrigo a chance and stop seeing her as just another “mainstream pop star.” Even then, it’s okay to like popular music. Especially when it’s objectively good.

  • Life on campus

    Life on campus

    by Alina Ferguson

    I lived on campus for two years without a car. I am now currently living off campus, in another city actually, with a car and I can say without a doubt, to me, living on campus was actually a very nice experience. I will explain why, and I promise it will make sense. 

    I miss the convenience of living on campus. I could walk across the grounds in ten minutes, which is good because if it’s late at night, and I want to visit a girlfriend, it is not a problem. I felt safe and confident walking long distances across campus. 

    It’s just about accessibility and location to me; I could easily rest after class, it’s been a long class day but I still have another couple to go. I could chill in my room, change my clothes, eat, maybe get to watch an episode of my favorite TV show and still make it to class EARLY. Campus is also centrally located, making it easy to walk into town or go to the grocery store. You can explore and get in some exercise, two birds with one stone. 

    Living off-campus makes me long for the redwoods. Living on-campus allowed me to go on a hike between classes. I am in the redwoods after all, and it is amazing that we have trails here in our backyard when living in the dorms. 

    I also feel like most on-campus quarrels begin with sharing a room. For many, it’s their first time  doing so. I’ve been used to sharing a room my whole life, so it was never an issue for me. Having an older sister really prepared me for any roommate, as I learned how to communicate efficiently, calmly and just learned to let some things go. Yes, you may get a bunk, or a roommate, but at least if you’re locked out, someone can let you in. 

    Of course, living on-campus does require you to make some compromises, like the fire alarms. They do not stop unless an RA comes and calls someone else. With maintenance requests, they did do good work when requested, with the work being done quickly and efficiently. Also one of the maintenance men was really cute. I miss that. 

    Okay, hear me out on this one, in a way, you save money, because you have to buy less. If you are anything like me – I sincerely hope you are not – then a trip to Target for one thing turns into buying so much that I need a UHaul to bring it back, and guess what? There is no room in the dorms for all of that stuff. So, it keeps me from buying an insane amount of junk, which I have been doing since moving off-campus. I apparently need 6 pillows and 40 wooden bowls, because I’m into the look of wood currently.  I love wood, wooden bowls, wooden plates, just wood. 


    At the end of the day, for me it is all about nostalgia. Campus was the first place I lived by myself, without my parents. The convenience and accessibility campus gave me makes me miss it now.

  • Living on campus sucks

    Living on campus sucks

    by Kae Dennert

    I hated living on-campus. The mold, the roommates, the noise? I only lived on-campus for a year, but I could never go back. Don’t get me wrong, if you have no other choices, I get it – I really do –  but other than that, no thanks. 

    I don’t get why anyone would want to put themselves in a situation where they have to slum it with a shit-ton of other people when they could have their own space. I’m not paying 10k+ a year to live in half of a room with no private bathroom for 7 months, when I can pay half that and have a house year-round (AND MY OWN ROOM). 

    I lived in campus apartments on the ground floor, which meant I would wake up with ants crawling on me, and get sick at least once a month from the mold. Not to mention my roommate had the opposite schedule as me, staying up until 3 A.M. laughing and talking while I was trying to sleep, because I had practice at 6am the next day. 

    It was nearly impossible to fit all of the things I needed into my dorm room, considering we’re given such little space for our objects. Sharing a regular sized closet between two people and having no other space besides under our beds was obnoxious, and anytime I needed anything new I had no idea how I was going to fit it.

    Off-campus is significantly nicer because I’m able to be in charge of my own spaces, I don’t have to share a room, and I have a private bathroom. I also got to choose my own roommates (shout out to them), which means no more randoms that make life extremely more difficult. 

    I will end by saying this: I spent my last 3 months of on-campus living on my friend’s couch walking a half mile each way to school so I didn’t have to share a room with my roommate and deal with the dorm space. It isn’t worth it to live on-campus.

  • A billboard badly done beyond all believable bounds

    A billboard badly done beyond all believable bounds

    by  Dezmond Remington

    I wish I could start this article with a funny anecdote about a billboard I once saw somewhere. I wish I could remember something about the giant ads on the side of the road that beg for your dollar with flaking stock photos of smiling people, content with their decisions to consume product X. That would make an incredible comparison to Cal Poly Humboldt’s website, but the problem is that they’re both too boring and too similar for it to even be clever. 

    The fonts are huge. The slogans are worn and used. It’s completely uninformative, incredibly boring, and entirely useless. It’s a 2.5 second elevator pitch meant for the uninitiated, the outsiders. What’s the real difference between a beer ad featuring a picture of a frosty bottle 12 feet tall and a glamor shot of a redwood on campus? 

    The website as it is designed now is simply the front-facing outlet for the administration’s constant hunger for more; more money, more students, more buildings, a Moloch filled with an evil lust. Very little is there for the current students, unless they figure out how to navigate its byzantine backrooms. Want an easy answer for when tuition is due? Good luck. How about some information about major requirements or how scholarships are processed? Have fun banging your head on your desk after searching relentlessly for an hour for an easy answer. How do I add a minor? Go fuck yourself. 

    The answers to so many really important questions aren’t on the website at all, as I’ve found out too many times, but trapped in the heads of some advisor I didn’t even know I had or a luddite department chair with an allergy to answering emails. Instead of taking the time to make a well-linked, easy to use website with simple answers to common questions for students, the website is filled with factoids about platitudes such as how many alumni graduate with practical experience or how strong the campus community is. Who cares? Whoever designed the damned thing made it really easy to find information about energy-saving programs that have long since gone broke or their supposed commitment to “inclusive excellence,” but not crucial need-to-know things for, say, disabled students or people here on a WUE scholarship. 

    If the website had simply always been this way, maybe there would be an excuse. Maybe it got grandfathered in, unable to face the challenges of a polytechnic with a lot of outside interest to the tune of over 20,000 applicants for this fall semester. However, it got redone this year, with brand-new typefaces and different photos, updated housing pages and a clearer “Purpose and Vision” page, whatever that means. Current students were not consulted on what they would have liked done with it outside of purely aesthetic choices, buried in a survey launched in one of dozens of official emails most students get. 

    It’s sad. It would be so nice if it was completely redesigned, with actual input from students beyond simple feedback on logos designed by East Coast marketing firms. There should be a focus on making the important stuff people want to know very clear. The website should function beyond mere solicitation. I hope there’s a push to change that. Make the big paragraph on the homepage claiming to “help you find the answers” true.

  • Is Arcata the Florida of California?

    Is Arcata the Florida of California?

    by Alana Hackman

    One morning, I was finishing up one of my mundane tasks at work when I overheard a discussion between my manager and a customer. The customer was a travel nurse and was stationed up here for the summer. Of course, the follow-up question to that information was, “Where are you from?” in response she goes, “Florida”. 

    That answer was a bit shocking to me. I’ve met people from New Jersey, Texas and even Canada up here – but Florida? My manager asked her how she enjoyed her time up here and through a slight chuckle she responded, “Well this is the most Florida place I’ve ever been to in California.”

    At this point I had to laugh with her. I was never posed with a comparison that happened to be so spot on. It’s remained on my mind since then, so today I ask myself, is Arcata really the Florida of California? 

    I mean to start with the first difference: Arcata will never ever be comparable to the Sunshine State. Our muggy, gray clouds in August will speak for themselves. Although, there are some similarities if we want to look at the landscape. Starting with the lush vegetation, the Everglades and redwoods are quite synonymous. Same with our apex predators, like gators and black bears. We also share the same sandy beaches at close proximity. 

    I mean, Arcata is no girl’s spring break trip to Miami, but we do have lots of tourists coming through and even some hotties, if you’re into ecological preservation and bare feet – another shared similarity between the two vacation destinations but for completely different reasons. If you’re not near a beach, I don’t want to see those toes. 

    There seems to be many more similarities between the two; crazy amounts of drug peddling and always being able to count on the most insane conversation to be initiated between you and some stranger that approaches you on the street. Can’t forget the wannabe rappers that seem to be coming out of the woodwork all the time. Also, how both destinations seem to be a top pick for retirement communities. 

    I believe that one of the biggest similarities you can find between Florida and Arcata is that you can almost always expect the local headlines to hold the same zany crime bookings that are shared between the two coastal regions. 

    Any headline beginning with ‘Florida Man’ or ‘Humboldt Man’ can always promise the most insane crime story you’ll ever read. Must have something to do with the beaches and far right extremists that shack up on both coasts. 

    A quick peruse of Orlando Fox 35’s website under the keywords ‘Florida Man’ brings up cases such as a man dunking a woman’s head in tar, another throwing a barbecue at deputies and one stealing a hearse from a funeral home. You may think these are as crazy as it can get, but have you seen the recent headlines in the Lost Coast Outpost?

    Let me entertain you with a few: The confiscation of 2,400 tabs of acid, a man setting fire to another man in Eureka, and my personal favorite, the man found with a handgun that was the size of a credit card along with drug paraphernalia. 

    Along with the crime, we can’t forget about the universities. Although there’s a few more to choose from in Florida than the small city of Arcata, I think they hold the same results of anticipation for students – to only be let down once they arrive. We can also count on the humidity to ruin your cute outfits and hair in both places. 

    All in all I think that anonymous travel nurse was right, Arcata is the most Florida place in California. Fresno may be the runner-up in reference to the crazies, but who vacations in Fresno?

  • Delete your TikTok

    Delete your TikTok

    by Valen Lambert

    Originally printed April 12, 2023

    When our government recently proposed a ban on TikTok because of national security risks, I was probably one of the few that delighted in the news. While the government is worried about national security, I think the app’s biggest threat is to culture and dare I say, our souls. I might sound like a pretentious asshole, but I think TikTok is melting the brains of the youth and you need to delete it right now and go touch some fucking grass. 

    When I first transferred here from the old-school beach town of Morro Bay, where flip phones still circulated amongst my unplugged community of surfers, farmers, and creatives, I was blown away by the distinct “TikTok culture” that I realized dominates the humor, interests and identities of my peers. All of a sudden I kept hearing people saying the same jokes, the same words, while wearing the same outfits accompanied by the same refrain: “I saw it on TikTok!”

    Don’t get me wrong, trends are a natural part of our social fabric, but there’s something about the way that TikTok baby-feeds content to its users and digs their personalities into a hole at frightening speeds that freaks me out. It homogenizes people into select subcultures based on their algorithm. Instead of going out into the world and discovering themselves through their own exploration of literature, media, art and fashion, TikTok informs your personality for you. 

    The algorithm puts you in a box. Conformity just got a whole lot faster and easier with TikTok spiraling users into cogs in the culture machine. It leaves little to no room for users to explore themselves naturally without the consistent influence of the internet. The app is a culture factory, and everyone is willingly surrendering to the mind-numbing work of consuming and popping out trends that this app is banking off of. Everyone’s also hoping to bank off their own image.

    All of a sudden everyone has a chance to be famous. The Hollywood virus is infecting young folks all around the world with the idea that with some good looks, a little charm and some trendiness, they’ll make a big break and one of their videos will go viral. They take to their front-cameras and hope that they can capitalize on their image (while simultaneously bagging on capitalism). The app promotes radical self expression, but leads creators to monetize on their individuality and become caricatures of themselves. They’re abandoning memes and becoming them.

    I don’t have a TikTok, but I have an Instagram, which is unfortunately the same damn thing at this point. I get suggested so many dumb reels of people making faces into the camera with some regurgitated words to go along with some trending song and it’s all just one big jack-off party. I lose thousands of brain cells anytime I see one.  

    Look, I like posting selfies too. I like feeling hot and confident and sharing that with the world and not giving AF. I’m in no way trying to belittle people for feeling themselves. But I believe there is a threshold, because it can’t possibly be good for your mental health to be chronically online and have your whole life and image revolving around your digital presence. If this sounds like you, I urge you to unplug, even if just for a bit. There is so much meaningless content getting pumped into our heads that has no benefit to your well-being whatsoever, and believe it or not, all that dog-shit is taking up valuable space in your head where you could be daydreaming, thinking about poems, flowers, or frogs, or better yet, absolutely fucking nothing.  

    I want to make it clear that I’m not targeting anyone specifically, and that being chronically online doesn’t make you a robot. It’s a crazy time to be alive, and social media has become so irreversibly ingrained that it’s hard to disconnect from it if you grew up with it. This generation also faces so much anxiety about the impending doom of our future, I don’t blame us for being chronically online. I mainly hate this stupid app because I know that in every person there is unfathomable depth and complexity that is being suppressed by mainlining content straight to their identity. 

    We create ourselves every day. Our lives, our identities, are art projects that we create through connecting and making associations with the world around us. That is hard to do when you only see the world in ways that other people told you you should see. It’s like watching Bob Ross and only being really good at making Bob Ross paintings. Delete your TikTok and go paint the world with yourself.

  • Social media can be a powerful tool

    by Kianna Znika

    Originally printed April 12, 2023

    I’m honestly really grateful to be alive in a time where social media exists. When used with intention, these platforms can be a great place to find resources, community and inspiration. 

    The Internet is where I’ve learned a lot of important life skills, thanks to content creators who are passionate about making this knowledge accessible. There are online communities created with the sole intention of helping other people in our everyday lives. For example, creators on “#CleaningTok” teach others the basics of cleaning without any judgment, knowing that some people struggle due to mental illness or because they were raised in messy homes. It was the hashtag “#Comfycore” that helped me start taking better care of my body and its needs. There are also content creators who give tips to other low-income people about budgeting, grocery shopping and the basics of surviving capitalism. 

    Social media isn’t always an escape from something, or a place to just mindlessly scroll. I am continuously learning, sharing and connecting with others.

    You create your own social media experience; you can choose to follow people you actually like. You can choose not to engage with certain trends. I choose to treat my personal account like a scrapbook of my life because it genuinely makes me happy. I follow other content creators who I feel are truly authentic.

    There’s a lot of debate around whether or not someone can be authentic online, and this frustrates me because I genuinely believe you can, if you want to. It’s a choice. You can choose to be yourself online but the thing is that it is a challenge. It requires you to really check in with yourself, unlearn things, and push past fears of being perceived or judged. You’ll ask yourself things like, “Why am I posting this? Is this really for me?” and “Why am I not posting this? Because I’m afraid of what someone else will say?”

    This is something I’ve been practicing for a while now, but it wasn’t always this way. When I first “blew up” on TikTok, I got really excited. I never received that much attention before in my life. As much as I wanted to continue being me, I’ll be honest: I did feel the pressure of having to be a “character” and purposely create content for a specific audience and it really hurt me mentally. I wasn’t being myself anymore. I didn’t like that I wasn’t showing all aspects of my being anymore. People just saw me as “the quirky pop punk” girl, or so it felt like. I don’t like being put into a box, and I think that’s what a lot of people think you have to do to use social media “the right way.” 

    So, I decided to let go of these pressures and start being myself again by posting the way I did when I was just a person sharing on their personal account. I started openly sharing myself and my life again, all parts of it, unapologetically. While I do see that my numbers have gone down, since I’m not posting the original content people followed me for, I feel relief in the fact that my social media reflects who I really am. I don’t have to worry about posting and engaging a certain way anymore. I made the choice to be authentic online and I mindfully make that choice every time I log onto social media. It’s a good vibe check and I’ve honestly grown and learned a lot about myself through this practice.

    There are a lot of opportunities on these platforms. It wasn’t until my own platform started growing that I realized these opportunities were possible for me. It honestly opens up a lot of doors, which is something I, as a low-income person, am extremely grateful for. I strongly believe that other small artists and businesses should take advantage of social media because it’s a free resource that could possibly change their life, too. Being a content creator is a real job in this real day and age, and it pays really well. It’s a valid career path and yes, there are people who will judge you, but we’re supposed to be breaking free from caring about what other people think anyway. We’re all just trying to survive capitalism in our own way, and for me, social media happens to be a fun, highly-promising way.

    I believe what it all comes down to is the individual choosing, for themselves, how to use social media in a way that’s healthy and truly benefits them. There’s a lot of important life skills with more broad applications that are practiced when approaching things with mindfulness. For example, knowing when to put your phone down and still be grounded in the real world teaches you moderation and discernment. You practice setting boundaries when you unfollow accounts that trigger negative emotions and only engage with more content that aligns with you and your personal values. You practice self-love and radical acceptance when you choose to be authentic online. It requires a lot of self-discipline, too, which I believe is extremely important to develop as an adult.

    In the end, if social media is truly making you unhappy then you can choose to step away from it, but that is just your individual experience with it. Your relationship with social media is your own responsibility. You can choose to make it a good one.

  • I’m tired of “sustainability”

    I’m tired of “sustainability”

    by Emma Sjostrom

    Originally printed May 3, 2023

    I see it almost everywhere – for nearly everything I buy, there’s a product that is packaged in some sort of brown paper or clear plastic container, with green-colored words saying something like “eco-friendly” or “all natural.” While the thought that more people are willing to buy sustainable-minded products is nice, a majority of these claims are mostly bogus. I see them as nothing more than huge, carbon-producing and trash-making companies looking to capitalize on growing consumer demand with fancy buzzwords and aesthetically pleasing packaging. 

    Sadly, a majority of these claims of environmental responsibility are nothing more than greenwashing; companies trying to appeal to consumers without actually providing any proof of sustainability, or doing the complete opposite of what they claim to value. 

    A few years ago, H&M launched their “Conscious Collection,” making claims that their new line of clothes offers recycled materials, are less resource intensive and are ethically made. Not only were these claims vague and had given little actual evidence, I find it difficult to believe that a huge company in the fast fashion industry – one of the largest polluting industries – would actually be doing all that good for the environment. Even if the line was found to be truly sustainable, what about all the rest of H&M’s clothing that they produce? It’s no surprise to me that the company has seen numerous lawsuits over the years about their claims. 

    On top of being fed unsubstantiated promises, I’m simply tired of the notion that it is all on us individuals to achieve sustainability. It’s like we can never escape the endless lecturing for us people to calculate our carbon footprint and to do our part to save the planet. Meanwhile giant companies get to endlessly extract and pollute. 

    Some companies even go so far as to make apps to help people track their C02 emissions. Back in 2020, Launchpad announced their new VYVE app, which allows people to directly calculate how much emissions their travels create. Who is Launchpad you may ask? It’s a subsidiary of none other than BP, one of the world’s largest oil and gas companies. 

    BP, like other major oil companies, have launched campaigns claiming to focus on sustainability, some even going as far as to say that they’re working towards a “low carbon future.” These campaigns essentially make appealing claims while ignoring the elephant in the room. These companies promote their false narrative of sustainability, meanwhile continuing to profit off mass resource extraction that is the largest contributor to ecological destruction. 

    On top of simply spreading misleading information about themselves, these companies are doing even more harm to people and the environment. While working to make themselves look good to an increasing amount of people concerned about the environment, they are continuing their irresponsible practices. It’s simply exhausting.

  • For the love of God, clean up after your horse

    For the love of God, clean up after your horse

    by Dezmond Remington

    Originally printed April 26, 2023

    I was running down a gloriously sunny forest trail in the middle of summer, not a care in the world, except all the ice water I was looking forward to drinking when the run was over. Then fate hit me – and fate was a cubic yard of solid horseshit right in the middle of the trail. I landed in it mid stride, right around the bend of the trail. At that moment, I had an epiphany: life just isn’t fair. That thought stuck with me the whole way home, just like the horse shit did.

    Why do dog owners have to clean up their dog’s poop, put it in little plastic bags and drag it along with them on their hikes like a grocery bag full of putrid garbage, while the equestrians up there on their fancy steeds like royalty of old get to leave their horse’s crap all over the trail? What the hell is the horse for? Make it carry the poop! The rider doesn’t even have to carry it themselves! I don’t want to hear anything about how there are lots of good nutrients in the horse crap – if that’s the case, put it on the side of the trail, WHERE ALL THE PLANTS ARE! If it’s going to do any good, it sure as hell won’t be in the middle of the trail, a place famously devoid of plants, because THAT is where people walk. 

    Frankly, the double standard is appalling. I genuinely don’t care if it is inconvenient to get off and go around the back of your animal’s huge ass. It is unfair to put the onus of dealing with your animal’s shit on the public. If you have the money and the time to own an animal that weighs a half ton and eats damn near two hundred pounds of food a week, you have the money and the time to clean up your horse’s crap. If you have the time to load their horse up in their fancy little trailer and drive them over to the forest, you have the time to clean up their turds. Please stop leaving it where I and everyone else could step on it, I don’t want to deal with it. That’s your job, stop being selfish. 

    I can think of only three simple things needed to take care of it: a small shovel, a bag and about 30 seconds. Equestrians can buy the shovel and the bag from Harbor Freight for probably less than $15. Humboldt’s myriad thrift stores also probably offer creative and quirky solutions for much less. It’s not hard; it’s courteous, and common sense. No other animal owners are allowed to get away with this. How have we, as a society, just allowed you to get away with this for so long? It is time to fix this. It is time to make the horse owners be responsible animal operators. Clean up your animal’s shit like the rest of us have to.

  • City girl goes backpacking

    City girl goes backpacking

    by Lidia Grande-Ruiz

    This past week for spring break, I participated in the ‘Forests for All’ backpacking trip with the national parks, hosted by center activities. The trip consisted of two days and one night of backpacking the Redwood National & State Park with the rangers to visit the coastal bluffs. 

    This was a unique and memorable opportunity to go backpacking with national and state park rangers. Not only did they share their expertise in the area and teach us basic backpacking skills and how to use equipment, I got to see another side of myself I didn’t know existed.

    On Monday, March 13th, we had a pre-trip meeting with the guides and the rangers to explain the full details of the trip. We were going to take the Miner’s Ridge Trail to the coast campground, hiking about 4.5 miles per day and carrying an average 20 lb backpack.

    I was concerned about my medication, since I have a history of twisting both ankles. I need my medicine with me in case I need it administered to control any internal bleeding. After talking with my doctors, center activities and the rangers, I was okay to go.

    My boyfriend let me borrow his backpack, first aid kit, anything he thought I was going to need. We went grocery shopping for any food he thought would come in handy.

    Early Thursday morning, we met up, gathered everyone up in the vans and we headed out. Once we arrived at the park, we were greeted by the rangers. They allowed us to rent stuff like trekking poles, rain cover for our backpacks, etc. They gave us the low down for the agenda for the day ahead. Once we got everything, we hit the trail.

    Walking through the woods brought me a blanket of comfort. I mostly stayed behind, taking my time, making sure I didn’t twist my ankle. The forest was a sight to take in.

    I am from the city, and on top of that I don’t have a license or my own car, so backpacking is not often a leisure activity I can explore. I often hear my boyfriend talking about his adventures and it has always piqued my curiosity. When center activities sent out the email and said it was free for students, I jumped in and I don’t regret it not one bit. 

    I have gone camping before so I knew it was going to be cold. I brought my warmest clothes, layered up for the night and I slept like a baby. Being by the beach at sunset was breathtaking. We met people from all walks of life at the campsite. We even saw a golden eagle and a gray fox.

    Hearing our critter neighbors through the woods was a nice reminder to me that this is their home as well, just as much as it is ours. Everytime I go outside and wrap myself in blankets of the natural world, it fuels me up with the light that I search for in dark times. Being out there with no service… it’s like the outside world did not exist. My mental health was struggling just overthinking about the future, so being out there made me feel like nothing else matters.

    Will I ever do it again? Absolutely! After coming back to Humboldt, I haven’t stopped talking about it and remembering it. I cannot wait to take on backpacking, not just by myself but with everyone I care about and love. It’s not just a memory, it’s another adventure that’s calling for me.

  • I’m not chill with snow

    I’m not chill with snow

    by Nina Hufman

    Our campus was covered in a thin blanket of glittering white snow. This is obviously rare for the area, and has even more novelty for students who moved to Humboldt from areas that do not receive snow often. Pretty much everyone I know was really excited. They were running around, throwing snowballs, and making snowmen. I, however, was less than thrilled by the ice crystals falling from the sky.

    I grew up in Colorado, where I dealt with snow for up to five months every year for the first 18 years of my life. When I was a kid, I played outside in the snow. When I was in middle school I learned how to snowboard. When I was a teenager, I learned to drive in the snow. 

    I’m used to waking up to find my car frozen and spending twenty minutes defrosting it and scraping the ice off. My usual 20 minute drive to school became a 40 minute drive when the roads were icy; it’s probably safe to say that the novelty of snow has worn off for me. 

    The weather in Humboldt county was a big factor in my decision to move here. I love that it never gets super cold or super hot, and I love the rain. Most of all, I love that I am not inconvenienced by snow. 

    You can call me dramatic – I am and I will continue to be. You can ask me where my childhood sense of wonder is. You can say I don’t appreciate the whimsical things in life. This is blatantly untrue; I am as whimsical as they come. 

    I am not trying to rain, or snow, on anyone else’s parade. Enjoy the snow all you want. Personally, I will be inside, under my heated blanket, trying to keep warm.

  • The snow was joyous, jolly

    The snow was joyous, jolly

    by Harrison Smith

    Wednesday, Feb. 22, was a day of anticipation. Students and professors alike abandoned lectures to fix their noses to frosted window panes, gazing at the snow swirling from the white sky. Some watched the snow with dread, some watched with childlike wonder. Like everyone else, I went to bed that night expecting that the fitful flurries of flakes would falter overnight. After all, it never snows on the coast. 

    On the morning of Thursday the 23rd, I awoke to discover that the spirit of Jack Frost had ejaculated on our sleeping town. I finished my coffee as I watched the white blanket on my lawn grow thicker, then began to bundle up for the ride to class. I chose my outfit with warmth and winter whimsy in mind – from inside to outside, I wore two pairs of socks, long johns, an undershirt, a long sleeve tee, a sweater, a heavy jacket, a shawl, leather gloves, and finally sealed it off with a scarf tied about my head like a babushka.

    The trip to class was like riding my bike through hyperspace. Blowing snow swirled and buffeted me, but I was well dressed for the weather. I smiled a rosy, windblown grin at the huddled silhouettes of students walking to class in hoodies and sneakers.

    ‘Probably from SoCal,’ I thought smugly. 

    There are no snow days for college students, but we find our fun in other ways. Normally, I am not one to linger after class. On Thursday morning, however, I found myself standing in the courtyard of Founder’s Hall, soaking in the tranquility of the scene. My classmate Adam had begun to build a snowman. His bare hands were bright red as he rolled the snowball across the grass. 

    “Mind if I join ya?,” I asked.

    He didn’t. For the next twenty minutes I used my gloves to roll balls of snow across the courtyard, gathering mass like the Prince of all the Cosmos in Katamari Damacy. I would heft the finished ball to Adam, who would then glue it onto the previous ball with handfuls of snow. When we were finished with the primary construction, we began to scour the ground for decorations with which to festoon our frosty friend. Adam dressed him with stone buttons and sculpted his handsome face, and into his mouth I placed a fat joint made of a curl of bark. Humboldt snowmen stay stoned. 

    The snow wouldn’t stick around for long, but Adam and I talk to each other in class now. We’re friendly. Whenever something out of the ordinary happens, humans love to share it with one another. We cannot help but beckon each other outside to play in the snow. 

    As adults we aren’t able to experience the snow like we did as children. It becomes an inconvenience, a hazard through which to drive, moisture in the hair, a cold touch on the neck. But we can still claim the small moments of whimsy and joy that come when the sky turns white. I loved the snow.

  • Feelings on far-away graduation

    by Lidia Grande-Ruiz

    A few weeks ago, I got an email during work asking me to fill out a survey. The survey described how Cal Poly Humboldt is considering a commencement ceremony at a venue in another part of California. If I responded “yes,” I could be graduating closer to home. But Arcata has become my home now. If I were to graduate back in LA, yes, I would be surrounded by my mom, cousin, and childhood friends, but I think I would feel lost and disconnected. I would feel like something is missing, and that would be my peers.

    While another graduation closer to home might sound ideal to those struggling financially, some are not pleased with the idea–myself included. For me, I want to graduate in the place where I attended my classes and made connections to help further my career. Where I formed friendships with my peers and roommates that will last a lifetime, laughed and cried about everyday life occurrences, and crossed paths with people from different backgrounds. I want to be in the place where I had not only a successful college experience, but also an adventure. Graduating in Humboldt county would fulfill my dreams.

    My mom and I have been planning (and saving) for my college graduation and have started telling our loved ones where to go and when it is. When I told my mom about this survey, she was upset with me because she wanted to see me happy on my graduation day. She agreed that if I were to go back to LA I would be depressed because I would not have my peers by my side. 

    I have had my heart set on Humboldt since high school. It was my motivation to strive for the best. Many thought I was crazy, that I would not succeed and have many opportunities being in a rural small town. But Humboldt is where I saw myself smiling very big and wide, walking across that stage. 

    To have this survey sent to me felt like Humboldt stepped on my heart with high heels. It hurt. I was overthinking where graduation was going to happen. Is it actually going to happen? Am I going to walk the stage with my friends and mentors cheering me on to the next chapter of my life? Are me and my mom going to cross ‘Graduating Humboldt’ off my bucket list? 

    All I want is a graduation. But not just any graduation–a graduation proving that this first-gen Latinx student went farther than LA and explored their options in an area where people least expected. 

    I ended up saying that I want to graduate in Humboldt. Not only am I standing up for myself in the present but also to the 17-year-old who wanted just one thing: to attend Humboldt and be able to say, “I went there and came out as a whole new person. Mom, we did it.”

  • Delivery diplomacy: practices in pizza

    by Harrison Smith

    Every job gives you a unique perspective on humanity and the days that we all share. Bakers wake up early and see tired, hungry people come into their shop for coffee and donuts. Gas station cashiers see people only fleetingly as they fuel up on the way to nowhere in particular. Plumbers only come by when your day’s been fucked up by a broken pipe. Pizza drivers spend our time driving in circles and communing diplomatically with the eating public.

    It’s nice to drive around, though. Nice to have your own little sepulcher of music and heated air in which to take refuge from the constant buzz and motion of the shop.

    Driving around Arcata like I do makes me feel like Ralph Waldo Emerson’s transparent eyeball; I see a lot and am mostly ignored by the other cars on the road. We all try to ignore one another just enough to avoid crashing into each other. 

     This is my fourth delivery of the night and I’m ready to take my break. The pizza in the passenger seat is literally steaming out of the bag. It smells so good that it’s unfair. I’m so fucking hungry dude. After this delivery, I’m pulling over for a second to hit my vape and check my phone. 

    And that’s when I hear the freight train coming up, back and to my left. Car parked, I turn in my seat to see the single headlight of the most fucked up Chevy Tahoe you’ve ever seen- and that’s saying a lot, judging from every other Chevy Tahoe. The front passenger side of the car was bent inwards as if by a blow from a giant’s mace. It limps along, half-blinded, screeching as the frame scrapes the mangled wheel. 

    I stared in awe. This car was undrivably fucked, and I wondered if I was witnessing someone fleeing from a hit-and-run. I could not then, and still cannot think of another scenario of how this car was on the road. I didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed. As the Tahoe slumped away down the street, screeching its metallic screech, I felt like I had just turned over some obscure automotive tarot, an omen of the road. The Fucked Tahoe. 

    Driving on the highway so often also gives me a unique window into the nascent drag racing culture of Arcata. People love to race down 101. Usually it’s trucks or dragsters. It’s pretty fucking funny to watch an F150 racing a Miata. Two men competing to see whose dick is smaller. 

    Usually it’s an honor to be a guest, even briefly, at someone’s house. The minute or so I spend waiting for the customer to come to the door is a chance for me to envy their patio setup or their garden boxes. A mound of cigarette butts heaped in a crusty ashtray, a yard scattered with children’s toys. It’s an interesting peek into the lives of our customers. I try not to be a voyeur. 

    As pizza drivers, we are diplomats. Our job is to negotiate with the hungry masses, whose reactions to us range from uncomfortably sweet to frothing at the mouth. It always seems to be older customers who find me a good target for their frustrations, which I honestly find entertaining. Last week, I was a few minutes late to a delivery because my maps app directed me to a house down the street from the customer’s house. I was treated to a three minute rant when I arrived about how every delivery driver goes to her neighbor’s house instead, how she’d called before about this, and how I needed to listen to her instead of some little app on my phone. 

    Sometimes the job is pretty sweet, though. I’ve been tipped in weed more than once; twice, actually, but still pretty cool. My favorite thing about delivery driving is the small, unexpected moment of peace that I find as I walk back to my car after dropping off a pizza. The chorus of frogs grows louder on nights with light rain, and everytime I deliver to the labyrinth of apartments at Hilfiker and Alliance, I get a nice long chance to listen to their song.

  • Humboldt’s heinous healthcare

    Humboldt’s heinous healthcare

    by Valen Lambert

    Humboldt is a quaint place – too quaint to have reliable healthcare. My experience with the healthcare infrastructure here has been ridiculous compared to the more populated places I’ve lived. 

    This isn’t to say that our healthcare workers aren’t working hard. In fact, they’re overworked because there is a shortage of nurse practitioners (NPs) and physicians. Up until 2020, a California state regulation limited one physician to supervise no more than four NPs. With Humboldt’s shortage of physicians, this law directly impacted our health care centers’ ability to hire more NPs, resulting in a lack of health care workers. However, in 2020, AB 890 was passed, allowing NPs to work independently without physician supervision if they meet the required criteria to provide sufficient care. There are people who disagree with AB 890, believing that it will not serve people who need more specialized, significant care. 

    Despite the passing of AB 890, Humboldt is still recovering from its shortage of healthcare providers. It is apparent in the way that I have to wait two months for a doctor’s appointment, and in how I was turned away from urgent care because they had already met max capacity by noon. 

    I am one of the 36% of people in this county who get their health coverage through the government funded Medi-Cal. Another 30% get support through Medi-Care, which is for seniors or people with disabilities. That means over half of Humboldt’s population is vying to be seen by the few primary care clinics that take government issued insurance, most of which often aren’t accepting new patients because they’ve reached capacity. 

    I got lucky and was able to find a provider taking new patients, but it doesn’t surprise me that my appointment for a first visit was scheduled to be two months away. I was hoping to get a referral to a physical therapist for a shoulder injury. What would I do if I had a really pressing issue? The urgent care in Humboldt is a nightmare. If you’re lucky to get there before they’ve reached capacity for the day — in which case you’d have to come back the next day — then you’d be waiting three to four hours to be seen. This in no way reflects the hard-working personnel of these facilities, but is a side-effect of understaffed rural healthcare systems.

     If you look at the reviews for the urgent cares and hospitals in Humboldt, they tend to get a lot of negative reviews and low star ratings, usually for wait times and inaccessibility. I’ve never been one to care much about reviews but when it comes to my local hospital, that’s something I’m sure we’d all prefer to read positive reviews for. Arcata’s local Mad River Hospital unfortunately has two-and-a-half stars on Google reviews, mostly from people waiting several hours for walk-in care at the emergency room, giving up, and eventually driving to St. Joe’s in Eureka, which has even less stars.

    Thankfully, here on campus we have the Student Health Center. It’s decent, cheap, and won’t have you waiting hours on end while your bone is popping out of your skin and you’re bleeding out on the curb. 

    Don’t even get me started on trying to find a dentist in Humboldt that takes Medi-Cal. The only dentist office that does is in Eureka and is usually not accepting new patients. Many folks with Medi-Cal have to go to Redding or Santa Rosa to get the dental care they need. You best believe I’ve been flossing since I’ve moved here. 

    I love Humboldt, but my experience with healthcare here has been disheartening. What does it take to bring more health practitioners to Humboldt? How do we fix this problem? I’m wearing my helmet, seatbelt, taking all my vitamins, being so safe I’d make my mother proud – I sure as heck don’t want to be delusionally waiting around for acute care.

  • Weathering situationships, the right way

    Weathering situationships, the right way

    by Valen Lambert

    Gen Z has been turning tradition on its head. Gender? That is so last season. Sexual preferences? All of it. Partners? Four and we’re all best friends. We’re holding the reins of a cultural revolution that’s redefining intimacy, sex, and identity. It’s beautiful, empowering, expansive – and oh-so confusing when we enter uncharted lands. 

    With polyamory and open relationships becoming the new norm in our alternative communities, we’re finding another gray area of intimacy that some may call the new epidemic: situationships. Love them or hate them, they’re here to fuck up your emotional algorithm if you don’t have the proper interpersonal toolkit. They are not for the faint of heart. 

    Urban Dictionary defines a situationship as, “more than friendship but less than a booty call…it is a romantic relationship that is, and will remain, undefined.” I dunno bout ya’ll but when I was in high school we called this having a “thing” with someone.

    I’ve been in a few myself. They were lovely, occasionally regrettable, fleeting experiences that teetered between friendship and romance. If you’re like me and are afraid of commitment, they’re the perfect dose of attention. Most ended diplomatically on great terms or, quite rarely, through a complete ghosting by me or the other.   

    There’s some finessing to be done if you don’t want you or your cutie’s heart to be pulverized like a butcher’s steak. First, you have to check in with your own emotional capacity. Where is your heart at, how much can you show up right now, and how much do you need the other person to show up? I’ve broken a few hearts in my day because I lacked the emotional maturity to confront my own boundaries, and to communicate that clearly with my partners.    

    Maybe you enter a situationship because neither of you are ready for commitment, but also can’t help having crushes on eachother. That’s fine!! Relationships can be whatever the heck you want them to be. 

    I might be preaching to the choir here, but communication is the most important tool in your belt for these dirty jobs. Upon initial canoodling, discuss your preferences and needs with your cutie. I know it goes against the sacred rule of situationships, to stay “undefined,” but there is no harm in laying down how casual or serious you both need it to be so everybody knows how to move forward. 

    If you want sex with occasional cuddles, cute dates and intermittent cheek kisses, make that clear! If you just want to hook up but study together sometimes, let ‘em know! If they’re down, then fuck yeah! If they’re not, don’t waste your time with anything more or less than what you want, no matter how hot you think they are. You’ll really have to practice some self control (trust me), but you’ll be so happy you did. 

    You deserve to be in a relationship where your partner is on the same page as you, clear about where you stand, and good to your nervous system; even if it’s just a romantic puddle and not the great oceans of love. Communicating where you’re at and what you need is sexy, and helps you feel more autonomous in a situation that would normally leave you feeling powerless.

    If you’re chronically in a situationship and hate it, or are forced into a situationship with someone you’re head over heels for, there’s some boundaries to be made. So pull up your sleeves, listen to some Erykah Badu, and get to feeling your bad self.

     There is an important distinction between intention and attention. Some cutie may be giving you a lot of attention, but lacking in the sort of intention that’s actually worth your time. Intention can exist in a casual dynamic; it’s a presence and attentiveness that makes you feel seen. No matter how loose the situationship, you know the person genuinely enjoys your company and doesn’t take it as something that merely entertains them or distracts them from their homework. Again, there ain’t nothing wrong if both parties are on the same page about just seeking “entertainment,” but if you feel that there is an asymmetry in feelings or intentions, it’s time to jump (situation)ship. 

    Lots of folks love to hate situationships. For some people, they can’t handle that in-between space; either needing just friendship or just a relationship. It’s stressful for folks. And there’s nothing wrong with that! But if this sounds like you, listen to your gut and tread lightly around the experimental zone that is situationships. 

    They’re jam packed with emotional turmoil, but only if you don’t know what you need or how to communicate it. You can create your ideal dynamic with someone who aligns with your needs. The beauty of situationships is that they aren’t going anywhere! They can be a pleasant ephemeral exploration of pleasure and humanity that teach you what you really need when it comes to more serious relationships. They can help you explore your romantic and sexual identity. They can teach you so much about interpersonal communication. We’re young and everything is an experiment! So get out there baddies.

  • Fuck cars

    Fuck cars

    by Harrison Smith

    At any given moment in Arcata, there is a game of frogger being played at a grand scale. Students who walk or ride their bikes to class are familiar with the everyday peril of crossing L.K. Wood Blvd where it meets Sunset Ave. Drivers rolling down the Sunset overpass towards campus regularly blow through the long, winding crosswalk, which is about as useful at protecting pedestrians as is a paper shield against a lance.

    I have lost count of the times I have almost been hit by an unaware driver while riding my bike to campus. The three gauntlets which I run daily are the roundabout at Foster Ave, the intersections of Sunset and H St., and the aforementioned L.K. Wood crossing. At the Foster roundabout, I was nearly paved into the street by a lifted white (and squeaky-clean) F-150. I let out a perfunctory, “Fuck you!” to the prick whose $35,000 dealership-bought manhood nearly killed me. His response was to pull the truck to a screeching halt in the middle of the roundabout, hop down from the cab, and scream, “You got somethin’ to fuckin say?” I, who had a chemistry quiz that morning, did not have anything to say. I turned my happy ass around and rode away. 

    Last Wednesday, my boyfriend witnessed three separate screaming arguments in quick succession between drivers waiting their turn to cross the intersection of Sunset and H St. It even sucks to drive here, let alone walk here. Driving everywhere has made it impossible to walk anywhere. So why do we design our cities like this?

    Because of Robert Moses, baby. The Biblical Moses may have parted the Red Sea, but Robert Moses did something far more impressive–part every street in the United States (and the world) with a stream of cars. Robert Moses was the municipal planner for the city of New York for over forty years, beginning in 1924. He was never elected to office, but nevertheless used his position in city planning to dramatically expand New York City’s automobile infrastructure, and thus structural racism. 

    Moses worked like a factory farmer, plowing up historically Black and low income neighborhoods to sew a crop of asphalt and steel. He connected the boroughs of New York with the ribbons of highway that would come to serve as a shining example of urban design to younger architects all around the country. He designed his infrastructure to exclude public transit—for example, Moses ordered the bridges over the Jones Beach Parkway be built too low for buses to access the beach, ensuring that it was only accessible to those (white) people prosperous enough to own their own automobiles. 

    Robert Moses shrugged away this mortal coil in 1981, but his legacy lives on in the 4.17 million miles of road that stretch across the United States and the 286 million cars that ply them. City planners in the latter half of the twentieth century followed the example set by New York, designing cities to be traveled by private car. 

    The only future for our planet and for our cities is one with streets designed for people, not cars. Ride your bike to class. If you’re unable, take the bus. If you can’t take the bus, carpool with your friends. Agitate with the city council for safer streets. Fight for a car-free future.

  • Body positivity is sexy

    by  Lidia Grande-Ruiz

    For the longest time, sex for larger people was a taboo subject – it wasn’t considered normal and open to talk about like how it is today. Sex should not only be the best experience, but also a time to try new ideas without being put down. It should be an experience in which one not only feels good about themselves but also builds a trusting bridge between themselves and their partner.

    Recently, my friend/co-worker and I were discussing how sex for plus sized women has made many of us super insecure, especially in entering a relationship. We discussed how negative views that society has instilled on larger people has made us insecure of our bodies, how even wearing lingerie was out of the question for us. Porn often labels the videos which do portray plus-sized people as ‘fat girl this and that,’ and it’s disheartening. It’s like society is telling plus sized people that we shouldn’t experience a fucking orgasm.

    Growing up in a Latinx Christian household, sex was only brought up in discussions around preventing unwanted pregnancy. It also did not help that I grew up in the 2000s; during that time, bigger people were rarely ever shown or mentioned in TV, fashion, or sex. Bigger people were brought up with the mindset of, ‘if I gain weight, I will be forever alone and single.’ The only time a plus sized individual was mentioned in media was during a before-and-after diet success story, or as the butt of a joke. That kind of trauma is brought back in bed and when we want to feel free, we feel instead trapped in an endless cycle of body negativity.

    My roommates and I were discussing the other night how sex should make us feel. One of them mentioned how sometimes on a day when they felt bad about their body, sex helped them feel sexy the next day, especially as a non-binary individual. Another of my roommates spoke on how sometimes trauma from a past relationship can make us feel like we are not worthy of anything. That struck a chord with me.

    For the longest time, my ex would make me feel like I was not worthy enough. There would be times that he would look at me with disgust, both in and out of bed. It made me feel like all I am is a score and when that came to my mind, it got me thinking about bets. 

    Growing up, I was relentlessly bullied about my size. When I saw his true side, it broke me into a trillion pieces. It brought me severe flashbacks of my first relationship, and I built a wall. It didn’t help that his friends joined in the laugh, and half of them were plus sized women. It left me feeling humiliated, but also unworthy of ever finding a caring partner and friendships.

    I am in a much better place now, surrounded by individuals who care about me and understand the trauma. We have the right to feel amazing about ourselves, at all times but especially during sexy times. It should be a time in which we can shut the world out, feeling not just fireworks but also a safe haven.