


The theme for our Spring 2025 issue of Insight Magazine is the future. This broad topic allows us to examine our Reno community over the years, looking at a few different places in time, such as the Y2K era, our current fears of climate change, and what our world can hope to achieve in the near future.
Over spring break, I visited the Seattle Aquarium, where I overheard a curious child asking an employee if a strange looking fish was AI. The kind worker, of course, said no, that the fish was a rare guitarfish. With its unique sharklike body and triangular head, it was neither a shark nor fish, but actually a ray. Admittingly, I had never heard of this creature before either.
Throughout my four years of college, I have received a front row view into AI’s evolution, and could see where its trajectory crossed paths in this child’s mind. Even in its infancy, the effect that it has had on academics is remarkable. Syllabi have been updated to either ban its usage or to warn of academic dishonesty if its use is not disclosed.
However, I believe that the act of using AI to generate images, video, or text is inherently anti-art. I’ve recently seen magazines and local theater production’s playbills use image generation to create a worse looking version of a simple idea that could have been executed by a human artist in less than an hour.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not entirely against AI. I cannot wait to see its usage in the medical field, and I cannot think of an essay that I have turned in where I didn’t use Grammarly. But if you need to ask a computer to visualize what a weekend adventure looks like as a Studio Ghibli movie instead of just closing your eyes and imagining it, you cannot claim to be a creative person. I was disgusted on my birthday when my laptop summarized birthday wishes from friends. I’m equally disgusted when professionals generate
emails and, in turn, get theirs summarized upon return. Although this may speed up remedial tasks in the name of efficiency, we lose human interaction. At minimum, its usage must be labeled, or what is the point of the degree of anyone on this campus if an algorithm can apparently do everything better.
I doubt I will be spared in the great AI wars that may come to fruition, those already warned of by The Terminator, The Matrix, and Blade Runner; but that day isn’t here quite yet.
It has been an honor serving as the executive editor this past year. Being able to bring my team’s creativity to life has been a highlight of college, and the physical magazines are artifacts I will look back on fondly. Personally, I dedicate this issue to my mother's and my soon-to-be alma mater the Reynolds School of Journalism, which is where my strongest friendships have formed, where I was sharpened as a journalist leading to a Hearst Award, and my overall favorite place on campus.
Although the future is uncertain, I hope that our slogan of “student run, for students” does not change definitions anytime soon.
In your hands is the latest edition of Insight Magazine. Our hope is that you will see a reflection of yourself in these stories in some form, whether through the written pieces, photography, or designs. This issue is a result of a tremendous amount of hard work, collaboration, and love. It is also a representation of a student publication decades in the works (with origins from Artemisia, the university’s yearbook, dating back to the 1800s).
Insight Magazine is proud to have placed fifth in the category of People’s Choice and eighth in the category of Feature Magazine at the 2020 Associated College Press Journalism Convention.
Thank you for supporting us. We hope you enjoy these stories as much as we enjoyed creating them. If you are interested in getting involved with us, visit insightunr.com or our Instagram, @insightmagazineunr
by Julianna Fuentes
Let’s rewind back to the year 2000, or perhaps even a little bit before that. While many feared that the start of a new millennium would crash computer systems, others feared the end of the world and the collapse of society as we know it. The year 2000 then came around, and nothing necessarily seemed to change. At least, from most people’s perspectives anyway, but this is far from the truth. Between December 31, 1999 and January 1, 2000, things didn't look that different. Now, as we’ve had enough time to look back, we can see things a bit more clearly. Aside from the initial fear of world collapse, people were hopeful for the new millennium and what new developments it would bring. With the new year came the rise of new technology and more flashy, experimental fashion. A certain level of boldness surged as people welcomed a new age. It’s funny looking at it now—instead of dressing for say, 2050, we have found our way back to Y2K fashion. Instead of emphasizing on creating new fashion styles, people are taking inspiration from original Y2K fashion and putting a modern twist on it. So many parallels from the recent
past are now visible in contemporary trends. Low-rise jeans are dominating the fashion cycle at the moment while high rise styles were all the rage in the 2010s. Bling and rhinestone details have also made their way back into major fashion brands again, with Juicy Couture being an icon of the time. Many of these styles were deemed as “tacky” for a small period, and now they are selling at double their original sale price on websites like Depop, Poshmark, and Mercari. Curating your own time capsule wardrobe has never been easier thanks to online sellers on these platforms. Even though the past has shown recently in the clothes we wear, the internet has only moved forward. New forms of online communication and social media have emerged, such as AOL Instant Messenger, MySpace, Facebook, Instagram and TikTok. These online communities have shifted the way we as a society operate entirely. They’ve become a place for people from all over the world to gather, share and create. Social media has shaped each respective generation in its own way—with older generations having to catch up and learn new technologies, and
younger generations already growing accustomed to it from a young age. It has also been responsible for giving platforms to online creators to start their own businesses, to share their art or to just have fun with it.
As for CGI (computer-generated imagery) —much of the movie industry has rapidly adapted in response to the evolution of digital technology. Studios have advanced their visual effects and can produce more realistic scenery for media pieces. Before the 2000s, CGI applications were much more limited and, in turn, lengthened the animation process. Being able to create something visually stunning meant animation artists and set designers dedicated more time to complete pieces by hand. Now, technology has opened the doors to countless more opportunities, and is used now as a major tool and resource in creating new digital media. While it is convenient, there are still modern films that have worked without CGI, and the realism on set is still quite impressive. “Wicked” (2024) is visually stunning and has stated that, besides the animals in the film, the actual production designs were real and carefully crafted to emulate the feel of the original “Wizard of Oz.” Nonetheless, there have been times when CGI has been used in ways that raise ethical dilemmas, such as using it to include deceased actors in movies. While many may want to see a beloved past actor on screen, it challenges the actor’s right to consent to make an appearance in the first place. For example, Paul Walker’s involvement in “Furious 7” after his death was controversial to many. However, Walker’s own brother was involved in the process, and some say it was simply a way to honor the late actor. The overall film and television industry will only continue to face these sorts of issues the further technology develops.
Another major shift in digital media and technology would be how we consume music. Let’s take the highly anticipated yearly Spotify Wrapped. Everybody is quick to post on their Instagram stories their top artists and songs, or to share with their friends and see what everyone has been listening to lately. This wraps back into how we have created a sense of community online—one that has only become more prominent as the years have progressed. However, there has been criticism towards Spotify for using AI technology to create Wrapped, and some say it feels less authentic and personal because of it. On the other hand, lots of people continue to use the features it provides regardless of the criticism, and some even enjoy it. What really comes into question now is if
there are any set limits to AI and CGI. Where do we draw the line in using artificial or graphic intelligence in our media consumption? What role does it have in the digital world and when will it start limiting human development? Only time will tell.
by Lauren Juillerat
Why is it that when we look back on our past, it either leaves us with a bittersweet taste of regret or a longing for a simpler time? No matter how much we dream of the future, it never seems as great as the past. The future is something we can hope for and shape at our will, but we can never truly know if it will unfold the way we want. The past, on the other hand, is set in stone—unchangeable and inevitably fixed. But that’s the beauty of it. How can we move forward if we don’t reflect on and learn from what’s behind us?
Many of us see the past through an artificial glow, a phenomenon commonly known as rosy retrospection—our brain’s way of sweetening old memories. Over time, we unconsciously filter out the bad and hold onto the good, making past experiences seem far better than they actually were. We don’t just remember events—we remember the emotions tied to them, and as a result, even difficult times can take on a sense of warm intensity and meaning in hindsight. When the present feels stressful, the past appears blissful by comparison, whether or not that was truly the case. We also tend to rationalize our hard-
ships—reframing struggles as valuable lessons, which makes them feel more rewarding in retrospect. As the years go by, the small frustrations and daily anxieties of past experiences fade, leaving behind only the highlights.
We crave security, and the past provides it. The future, however, is a blank slate, full of possibility but also risk. It’s no wonder we cling to what we know rather than embrace what we don’t. But the danger of excessive nostalgia is that it can keep us from fully engaging with the present and further preparing for the future.
While nostalgia and rosy retrospection are closely related, they aren’t quite the same. Nostalgia is a sentimental longing for the past, an emotional pull toward memories that evoke warmth or comfort. It can be a positive force, reinforcing identity and a sense of belonging. Rosy retrospection, on the other hand, is a cognitive bias, our brain’s tendency to remember the past as better than it actually was by filtering out negative details and amplifying positive ones. In other words, nostalgia is an emotion, while rosy
retrospection is a mental distortion of memory. When unchecked, the latter can trick us into idealizing the past at the expense of the present, making it even harder to move forward.
This is particularly evident in times of societal change. Many people romanticize “the good old days,” ignoring the struggles and imperfections of those eras. The truth is, no time was ever perfect, but the way we remember it makes it feel that way. While nostalgia can be a source of comfort and identity, it can also trap us in cycles of resistance to change, preventing progress and innovation.
Reflecting on the past isn’t inherently bad. In fact, it’s essential for growth. The key is to use nostalgia as a tool rather than a crutch. We should remember the past fondly, but not at the expense of the present or the possibilities of the future.
So, how do we strike a balance? The first step is acknowledging the full picture. When reminiscing, it’s important to recognize both the good and the bad to create a more realistic understanding of the past. We can’t be willing to grow if we can’t take off our rose-colored glasses and acknowledge the truth—thorns and all. Next, we should embrace the present instead of longing for what was, focusing instead on making today a time worth remembering in the future. Finally, shifting our mindset to look ahead with hope can make the unknown feel less intimidating. The past may feel safe, but the future holds potential, and that’s something worth embracing.
The past has shaped us, but it doesn’t define us. Moving forward means appreciating where we’ve been without getting stuck there. Nostalgia will always have its place, but the future is where life happens. Let’s not just dream about what once was, let’s create something worth remembering.
by E.M. Tomeo
Maybe money can’t buy happiness, but in today’s economy teetering on the edge of recession, people aren’t looking for happiness—they are looking for reputation and success, which money absolutely can buy. In terms of national trends, the cycle of fashion and design popularity dips in and out from pools of differing aesthetics. One decade “sleaze” will be in, and the next, everyone wants a “clean girl” aesthetic. In the 2010s, the “new money” look was what people were striving towards—bright sports cars, BBLs and brand-mania. Nowadays, the trend in American culture has shifted towards the idea of “old money.” But what is the “old money” aesthetic?
“Old money” is essentially the romanticization of trust fund babies—of East Coast law families with houses in the Hamptons and gated properties. It is toned-down luxury in the style of 1940s Hollywood, where the overly-prosperous spend money not to show off, but simply because they can. The intrigue around “old money” exists because it’s exclusive in nature and concealed from the public eye. The regular person really has no clue what is going on in the lives of the socially-private ultra-rich and, therefore, aspires to be
among them.
Of course, not everyone is in awe of the “old money” look. The sleek silhouettes, the thousands spent on basic household products and the consistent act of putting walls up between the wealthy and the “other” comes across as cold and ingenuine. It is an aesthetic crafted around how one appears to others— not around personal enjoyments or happiness.
On Emma Baker’s podcast “Stargirl,” a show producing in-depth episodes about the “it-girls” of past and present, dives into the “old money” look with an episode on the idolization of Martha Stewart. Martha Stewart’s brand in the 1990s revolved around her teaching women across the country from her upstate home how they too can achieve the “old money” aesthetic.
The people in these worlds believe that they are living the best lives anyone can accomplish. In reality, Nara Smith may be just as happy making home-cooked gourmet meals in a designer dress as a mother living in a trailer park feeding her family carefully crafted discount store meals. The person joyriding in a Lamborghini is having just as much fun as the
brothers speeding in their father’s high school handme-down truck.
The point where happiness differs between the two, barring personal and familial circumstances, is in comparison. Sadly, due to social media, comparison is rampant in our society today. The idealistic portrayal of an “old money” lifestyle as effortless and undemanding causes people outside of the bubble of generational wealth to envy it—to try their hardest to recreate it. It is not to go without saying that, at times, crafting an “old money” style does work.
Although influencers such as Martha Stewart and Nara Smith have constructed a platform an “old money” portrayel, both women have a similar story. They came from middle class families and worked their way up through modeling and strategic career moves. They both joined sectors of the economy right before a big boom occurred—Wall Street in the mid-1960s and social media in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Still, these icons are thought of as go-to portrayals of the “old money” aesthetic—a fake aesthetic crafted in an ideal that is not cohesive with how it is pitched to the masses. In fact, a better portrayal of “old money” would be content creators like Ballerina Farm, a trad-wife on the western prairie or icons like Princess Diana of Wales. The common thread between these women, other than coming from or marrying into a long line of generational wealth that fully funds their lavish lifestyles, is that they are private. A key part of the lifestyles of people in possession of generational wealth and trust funds is that they keep parts of their lives private. Not only may their income at times warrant legal privacy, but their lifestyles do not come with the same urge to “show off” that the aesthetic crafted around them seems to convey. These people did not work for their money, that is a hard and solid truth, and because of that there is no work to have pride in. People have a strong desire to contribute in some way to their community, and that is exactly what this “old money” lifestyle seems to lack.
Although the need to go to college and pursue a career is spurred initially by a need to have an income—it also comes from the same human desire to contribute. Break it down, and everyone's the same. Pull aside the luxury curtains and, in the end, what is truly valuable predates and will postdate monetary value.
by Samantha Wagner
Listen to me, if anyone says they wish they could live in a dystopian world, they are lying—or they don’t truly understand what a dystopia entails. If someone told me right now they would do anything to fight in the Hunger Games or be put in factions based on a single test, I would laugh in their face, and then I’d probably call someone for help. What I have come to realize is that people aren’t meant to fantasize about the dystopian genre, as vast and complex as it is. The genre is meant to be an allegory of warning. We are meant to fear it and seek to prevent it from happening to our own world. Dystopia is the underbelly of what society deems to be a utopia. The genre attempts to replicate a perfect world, or what many people perceive as a perfect society, and then reveals the corrupted, malicious foundations that the world was built upon. People are not supposed to idealize it, it’s a force that needs to be reckoned with and suppressed for the greater good.
The last time I wrote about the dystopian genre and its resurgence, I put the category under a large range of elements, possessing ideas of fantasy, folklore
and the future. Looking back, I think the genre could be simplified with this definition—the distortion of utopia. It is supposed to replicate a potential future, one that is warped but all the while possible. A world stricken with plagues and diseases, resulting in anarchy and revolution, is possible. A world overcome with famine and war, taken over by gangs in search of water and gasoline to survive, is very much possible. As pessimistic as it is, dystopia is a warning of what may come, and people are romanticising the idea of the unknown rather than taking it truly to heart. The dystopian future may not be as far as people may think, whether that means a world war, an environmental disaster, or another pandemic that may dismantle our state as we know it. “Maze Runner” tries to warn us about the disaster of disease in 2014, “The Giver” tries to show us how dangerous it is when a society is forced to conform. Don’t even get me started on “The Hunger Games.” Let’s just say I don’t think it is much of a coincidence that Suzanne Collins decided to resurrect from the ashes after a decade to publish two books so far to continue the Panem universe.
This all means something. This genre is trying to show viewers what is wrong with society and what could happen if nothing changes. It’s real and it’s a horrifying possibility, and just because it is layered with fictional characters and sometimes outlandish plot lines, it is still a possible reality. Now, I am going to raise another important question—what about zombies?
As wild and outlandish the concept may be, the genre has evolved to become quite the concern, especially in TV shows like “The Last of Us.” This series highlights realistic dangerous factors that plague our reality today. Infectious fungi and nerve-attacking parasites have become increasingly threatening as temperatures continue to rise. “The Last of Us” highlights how if viral fungi begin to adapt to warmer environments, they would soon be able to survive within human body temperatures. While this isn’t a plausible scenario, it is still a genuine threat that raises concerns regarding future pandemics. If I were you, I’d maybe think twice before eating that bread with questionable mold laced around the edges, you could very well become patient zero.
Many would say the zombie genre isn’t dystopian, it’s fantasy or a mythological horror genre, but I think zombies can represent a lot more than just flesh-eating monsters. I’m not saying a zombie apocalypse is very likely, I’m saying that zombie films really highlight the fragility of the state in the event of a disastrous unknown. Zombie movies like “28 Days Later” and “Dawn of the Dead” really put a spotlight on the vulnerabilities of society and how easily it can be for governments to collapse. We can see how domestic policies and rules mean nothing when the public is sent to a panic. By stripping down societal structures we start to see the true, vile intentions of man. How easy will it be for people to resort to self-preservation? How little would it take for neighbors to turn against each other if another plague comes around? If this isn’t a plausible concern, then how come high-class elites like Kim Kardashian and Mark Zuckerberg are reportedly investing millions of dollars in “doomsday bunkers” and apocalyptic safe rooms? Whether it be another world war or the start of another possible pandemic, this spike in preparing for the unknown is not a coincidence. Will the government respond in the same way as the last time? And look how that turned out. How soon will the dystopian fictional stories we see on our screens actually begin to pop up as live news stories on our
We're teetering on the brink of uncertainty, but if society swings closer to the dystopian side, who’s to say we can’t work to push it closer to our utopia? The fact that we can still debate and learn from the dystopian genre means we are not quite done yet. There is still hope to advocate for change and at least acknowledge what’s wrong now than wait until it festers later. Once I hear about a potential battle royale fight to the death arena being created, well, then I’ll start losing hope of escaping our doomed dystopian future. But until then, I have hope that our society won’t succumb to flesh-eating zombies.
by Zoey Cambley
With knowledge comes agency, the freedom of choice. This notion, perfectly encapsulated by the metonymy “the pen is mightier than the sword,” was overtly demonstrated when Florida Governor Ron DeSantis held up the children’s book “Call Me Max,” condemning its depiction of a transgender child’s journey of self-discovery. Such a text firmly opposes the views of DeSantis’ and his associated followers along with organizations like Moms for Liberty and LaVerna in the Library, which if left unchecked, stand to punish trans people and reject the validity of their experiences. Due to ideological systems like education and religion, we are interpellated to homogeneous thinking, and the censoring of books will only diminish our subjectivity even more.
Censorship is insidiously pervading libraries across the United States. According to PEN America, over 10,000 books across the US were banned in the 2023-24 school year. Most books in the crosshairs contain stories about people of color (44%), the LGBTQ+ community (39%) and stories depicting “sexual content” (57%). Additional reasoning for bans cited themes of violence, abuse, death and even grief. These experiences represent an integral part of our society, and “shielding” young adults from reading these truths is distorted erasure disguised as protection. Banning works on critical race theory cannot diminish slavery’s marked lacerations on the United States and its people. Hiding trans and queer narratives from kids will not change who they are. Just as grief, death and sex will never cease to be an everyday experience—these experiences too should not be redacted.
B ook banning and censorship has had a long history in the U.S., specifically targeting BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) people. Censorship has always had roots in racism; from slave codes forcing illiteracy to the current school-to-prison pipeline of stifling the education of brown and black students. Many abolitionists advocated for the right to read like Frederick Douglass who said, “Once you learn to read, you will be forever free.” W.E.B. Du Bois also advocated for enslaved people to have access to education as a way to raise political consciousness and lessen
carcerality. Book banning is not only implemented in schools and libraries, but in prisons as well. Most imprisoned people are not able to read beyond a 4th-grade level, and books that have themes of liberation, abolition and critical race theory are often banned from those in prison.
Though it is no surprise why book banning is accelerating now, with the current political landscape, people are more divided than ever and literature is another way to widen that gap. It is jarring to turn on the news and see figures like DeSantis condemn children’s books—an act reminiscent of authoritarianism. However, it is even more disheartening to see it in our community. In July 2024, a program called Drag Queen Story Hour (DQSH) hosted by Washoe County public libraries was shut down after a protester injured a librarian. DQSH was a positive community event that allowed parents to voluntarily show their children a beautiful expression of art in a free third space. Not to mention how the recent WC1 question was turned down in the last election, which will lower the Washoe County public libraries’ budget by $5 million, and will be in effect June 2025. This significant cut could reduce library hours, programs and librarians—greatly affecting the basic operations of this community pillar.
Last year I sat down with Ilya Arbatman, one of the co-owners of the Radical Cat bookstore, and they expressed the power that representation upholds and how this community especially needs it.
“ The most disempowering thing is to feel like, either you don't exist, or who you are, is not like a recognized thing,” Ilya said. “That there's something about you, that puts you in this special category that somehow needs its own special little section.”
The segregation of topics and books on marginalized communities is an oppressive tactic to further systemic ideology that those who are “othered” don’t deserve or want to be seen by mainstream culture. But who gets to decide that? Ilya reconfirmed this notion by stating, “Our personal shock is just not an appropriate tool to use to decide whether or not the book is appropriate for a kid.”
R adical Cat counteracts the lack of representation in dominant spaces by asserting themselves as a business that primarily focuses on marginalized groups. They host events for community organizing, workshops and, of course, have tons of great books and cute cats. Despite all of their responsibilities for running the shop itself, Ilya also said that [as] “a small business, [we] do it in a way that we feel like is ethically accountable to what's happening in our culture, and in a way that we feel like is using some of the privilege that we have, as people who have the ability to open a business and run a business, [and] using that to help the community.”
Not only do they organize for local groups at the bookshop, but they encourage anyone who wants to use their space to host organizing meetings to help the community as well. While Radical Cat is using their privilege as a business to raise awareness and support the community, they are a for-profit business, and therefore not as accessible to everyone.
Public libraries are free spaces that people can occupy and have access to a world of knowledge. Libraries not only have books and other reading materials but also provide many forms of care: homework help, reading support, college prep, resume help, loan business attire, etc. Libraries act as caring community centers where people can gather in a liberatory space and access a plethora of resources. Roz Bucy, the humanities librarian at the UNR Knowledge Center, emphasized that libraries act as these third spaces away from work and home, yet these “identity-based attacks” severely limit the freedom of resources that this third space has.
“Once you start taking books off the shelf, those potential readers are losing access to potentially vital resources,” Roz said. “I think it gets especially targeted at young people who are maybe, in some ways, more vulnerable and may benefit from having access to some of these additional resources.”
B ooks act as windows into a multitude of worlds—one where they can not only see themselves through the reflection of it, but experience others’ identities by looking through. When discussing this concept with Roz she said, “I think reading literature is one of the best ways to develop empathy for all kinds of people, and we probably need more of that, especially today.”
She went on to mention one of the five library theories from S.R. Ranganathan, “it's for every book is its reader, and every reader is book,” which means that
there needs to be a wide variety of books so that no matter who you are, you can walk into the library and find one that is the window to your reflection. It has been frightening to watch book bans at this rate in the last two years, however, it is more horrifying that this is an issue that we have been combating time and time again. Agreeing with my interviewees, reading is one of the best expressions of life, and risking its extinction risks our own. So how do we combat this? By showing up. Go to your local library. Visit independent bookstores like the Radical Cat. I know we feel rather comfortable at the KC but there is so much more to explore in the community. While you’re out and about, go to a library board meeting and say your two cents on how much you care about reading and free resources. If you want to be a part of an organization that also deeply cares about this topic, join the Radical Cat owners in their organization, Freedom to Read Nevada (their email is freedomtoreadnevada@gmail.com). We need to show up now so that future generations don’t have to. Without books, ignorance brews and boils over until the kettle explodes. Growing up in Nevada—a state grappling with low literacy and extreme poverty—physical libraries are necessary to provide access to crucial resources amid large-scale economic and physical barriers. At a pivotal time in my life, the young adult section in the library fostered empathy through stories of grief, sex, race and being a member of the LGBTQIA+ community. Across the United States, access to literature containing these themes is critically threatened. As a member of underrepresented and vulnerable communities, I am fully aware of how a series of seemingly unrelated attacks on public libraries form the basis of democratic, social and economic disenfranchisement. As these incidents persist across the nation, they extend far beyond children’s stories, threatening the very freedom of expression itself. As someone who wants to be a librarian and is passionate about intersectional topics, it is bewildering to see my future, notably a peaceful profession, may be criminalized or outright illegal one day. This is not a reality I will accept. This vicious crime against literature must come to an end. That is why I care so deeply, and I truly hope this wave of ignorance never comes to fruition so that the sword is mightier than the pen.
by Teagan Greer
People will always need certain essentials to survive. They will always need basic necessities like food, clothes and water. That should never be a matter of debate. As much as we need things, however, we also want certain things too. We want to live comfortable lives—ones that allow us to be financially stable and be able to afford items we wish for. Sometimes we wish for finer things in life, such as fancy cuisines, week-long vacations and monthly manicures with French tips. Over the years, it has become harder for consumers to distinguish the line between our wants and our needs. In the rise of capitalism and corporations there has, in turn, been a rise in consumerism and the desire for luxury.
American society's biggest obsession over the last five years has been the rise and fall of popular water bottle brands. Water bottles portray the perfect idea of overconsumption, especially because of its fast-paced and ever-changing brand trends in the consumer world. It began with the Hydro Flasks in 2019, which soon rose to fame for their vibrant colors and environmentally-conscious reusability. In just two
years, the brand lost its charm and faded out of the public eye. They were soon replaced by Stanley Cups. Stanley Cups were available in even more color varieties compared to the Hydro Flask. Especially because it was targeted towards a younger audience, it became all the more desirable. That being said, when does it become too much? How many products do we need to feel satisfied? Why do we buy these products to begin with?
There are many complex reasons as to why people buy fast-paced products. Whether we are heavily influenced by advertisements, use shopping as a way to cope or it’s simply a matter of finding stability and happiness from the products we buy—we all have reasons for shopping for more than what’s necessary. On the opposite side of the spectrum, the environment is impacted the most by the exploitation of materialism.
We only have so many natural resources and we go through them faster each day. Foods and drinks are constantly wasted, reusable materials are thrown away and trash is compiling worse than ever.
According to the United States Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), “in 2018, about 146.1 million tons of MSW [Municipal Solid Waste] were landfilled.” If we are not mindful of the things we purchase and how much is wasted because of these purchases, then these problems will only increase tenfold.
There are many products that fall under the trap of overconsumption like fast fashion. This current movement of producing speedy, cheap and trendy clothes makes consumers feel the pressure to buy much more than what’s necessary. This causes more harm by using exploitative labor, waste and pollution to get these materials made.
Consumers buy these products not necessarily for actual use, but as a symbol of status. Participating in a trend, whether that be purchasing the most popular water bottle or high-end clothing, would reaffirm the idea that they are a part of something bigger than themselves. Consumers are able to purchase the next best thing just so they can feel accepted into society.
This is not just the case with water bottles, but with any and all brands trying to sell you a product. Whether it’s the latest clothes, shoes or accessories, companies are selling you a single message: “You need our product to fit in and you need our product to belong.”
Even for those who simply can’t afford the high-end products that are constantly publicised in the media, people resort to purchasing the off-brand versions just so they can also feel a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves—the cheaper prices are also a nice bonus.
While it is important to note that not everyone buys from big brand companies in order to achieve a status symbol, it’s still something that is psychologically ingrained in our brains whenever we are shopping online or at any big name stores. Overconsumption can lead to unnecessary problems for both the consumer and the environment. It is important to not only spend mindfully, but to also spend cautiously—you never know what kind of problematic companies you may run into. So instead of focusing on what the next popular brand is going to be or what will be the new hot thing on the production line, ask yourself, “Will I use this?” And most importantly, “Do I really need it?”
by Lauren Juillerat
It's easy to live in the present, focusing on current stressors, recent successes and even what we'll have for dinner. But it's not as easy to reflect on the future or appreciate how far we've come. We constantly scrutinize our present and past selves—questioning whether we’ve done too much or not enough, but how will that perspective hold up 25 years from now?
If we could capture our essence—our most valued achievements and cherished memories—and seal them inside a time capsule, hidden away for nearly three decades, how would we want to be remembered?
Jacob, a recent high school graduate, reflects on his fashion, music and food habits as some of his most memorable influences. A red cardboard Nike shoebox— an ode to his vast sneaker collection—would serve as a time capsule, preserving the moments he hopes to revisit 25 years from now.
Inside, he would tuck away a burned CD of “good kid, m.A.A.d city,” his favorite album by Kendrick Lamar, the title scrawled in black Sharpie. Alongside it, he would place printed photographs of a beautiful girl with sunkissed skin, curly chestnut hair and a faint dimple that appears when she smiles. His girlfriend—and future wife, Cass—is one of the most important people in his life and he wants her essence to be forever captured on film.
The Nike box would also hold photos of Jacob’s friends and family as well as a current picture of him-
self—a tan, 5’9” boy with wavy, charcoal-colored hair and baggy jeans. His wardrobe would be accented by a dainty silver chain with an emerald, his birthstone, embedded into the necklace. A semi-precious stone, but an even more precious gift from his beloved Cass.
Buried beneath the sentimental photos, he would include a packet of Taco Bell’s yellow breakfast salsa and an empty Baja Blast cup—small mementos from his favorite fast-food spot and reminders of the flavors and comforts of his youth.
Brigham, a simple man who needs nothing more than adventure, good food and great company to keep him entertained. He would take a minimalistic approach to his time capsule. A printed picture of his 5’2” girlfriend—her tan skin glowing against the gold earrings
she never takes off—would be all he truly needs buried inside a silver metal cylinder.
B eyond the love of his life, he would include a gas station receipt—a snapshot of what it cost to fill his tank, so he could compare it two decades from now and curse the ever-rising gas prices as he tells his children how cheap it was “back in his day.”
B eneath the faded, wrinkled receipt would rest a light gray shirt with red accents along the collar and sleeves—his old Scheels work uniform. It would serve as a reminder of where he met his girlfriend and of the short-lived but cherished memories from one of his first jobs.
Tyler Harrison, a UNR college student from Sacramento, has golden sandy hair and an equally golden heart. Filled with appreciation for every person who has shaped his life, he would include films of his dearest friends, family, and of course, his beloved short-haired dogs, Macie and Tootsie.
His business education—one of his proudest accomplishments—would also be represented inside a worn-out Vans shoebox, holding pictures of UNR and snapshots of his favorite memories. While pursuing his degree, Tyler took on a minimum wage retail job, a place that unexpectedly led him to some of his closest friendships. His silver, square-shaped name tag with a magnetic backing would rest beside his other keepsakes, including an ashtray—its red-stained surface marked by burn scars from late-night conversations and fleeting escapes.
Though every memory he holds is priceless, Tyler also wants time to enrich his life. With that in mind, he would include a casino chip from a night of winnings or a two-dollar bill, knowing that over the next two decades, it would only increase in value—just like the experiences he cherishes.
Polaroid film is one of Claire’s favorite ways to preserve memories. Inside a wooden chest adorned with golden details, she would place Polaroids of herself and her curly-haired boyfriend. Each snapshot would capture their adventures of early morning road trips across state lines and even later nights spent chasing new experiences.
A small glass vial of her perfume would hold the warm essence of vanilla, a scent meant to linger over the next 25 years. Sunlight would catch the thick gold hoops nestled inside the chest, their shine complementing the gilded exterior of her time capsule. The earrings were a
staple in her daily outfits and would serve as a reminder of her golden youth.
B eside them, another cherished piece of gold jewelry—an antique watch thrifted by her best friend as a birthday gift—would rest alongside dried rose petals from her beloved, representing delicate mementos of love and time well spent.
Amy’s time capsule wouldn’t be a fragile glass jar, but a sturdy metal container—something strong enough to endure the weight of time, just like the love she carries for her family. Inside, carefully wrapped in soft cloth, she would place prayer cards of her father and grandmother, their presence still felt in whispered prayers and cherished memories.
Among the keepsakes, she’d tuck away a progression of time itself—a baby picture, an adolescent photo and a current portrait of both her children—a film of their journey frozen in time. Beside them, she would place a photograph of her parents at the same age she is now, a reminder of the cycles of life, of lessons passed down, and of moments repeating like the turning of the seasons.
A delicate gold cross necklace would rest within, its chain warm with meaning, carrying the faith that has anchored her through life’s storms. A picture of her past dogs, Angel, Crystal and Opal would also be tucked away.
Tied with twine, small bundles of sage, rose quartz and black tourmaline would lay overtop images, each chosen with purpose. Sage to cleanse and protect, rose quartz to hold the love that fills her soul and black tourmaline to shield those she loves from harm.
But perhaps the most important piece would be her letter—a message written with all the love and tenderness she holds for the people in her life. If she were not there when the capsule was unearthed, her words would remain, telling them how much they meant to her.
And finally, at the very top, she would place a wish—a single dandelion, carefully tucked inside a mason jar, its delicate seeds waiting for a future wind to carry them forward.
B ecause love, like a wish, never truly fades. It lingers, it travels and it finds its way home.
by Emma Christian
Five days a week, eight hours a day—a schedule Americans know all too well. Work is something that is very prevalent in our world. It is why we go to school and take on all the stress that we do, so that hopefully someday we can have a job that we enjoy. But is it really about enjoyment anymore?
Work has always been something that people dreaded. Getting up Monday morning has always been hard and the weekends have always been something to look forward to. People got more fulfillment in their daily jobs in the past than many people do in today’s society. Only a few decades ago, people in the American middle class could work jobs that they enjoyed and not have to worry so much about living paycheck to paycheck. In many households up until the late ‘60s, families only earned money through one source of income. Now, living comfortably requires working multiple jobs for many middle class families.
In today’s world, it isn’t uncommon to see a full-time college student work multiple jobs to stay afloat. College has become increasingly unaffordable and inaccessible to the general public. Students pay
thousands of dollars to attend a university and then go on to work at a job they hate. Instead of students choosing a major they are passionate about, the deciding factor now is whether or not they will make enough money in that field. Many students end up with a degree in a career they don’t enjoy, but it pays the bills and that’s the priority. Other students choose to major in something they are passionate about but then go to work multiple jobs just to get by. Students that are majoring in, for example, education and want to go on to become teachers are paying thousands of dollars to attend a university and get this degree. Teaching may be their dream job, but will it pay enough to be their only job?
College students also have to take into account the fact that their dream job may not exist in the coming years. With the development of AI, industries are becoming less reliant on human knowledge. Will people that have degrees in computer science or graphic design be needed in a few years? How far will AI go and how many jobs will it take? AI is growing at a rapid pace and has more knowledge than a single
person, so what's stopping it from replacing us? Many students have to put aside their passion and seek a degree in a field that is more likely to require human employees over AI.
The American dream seems unattainable even for people with college degrees. Will this trend continue? Will these next generations of Americans be able to afford to own a home? In many cases, owning a home and raising a family is starting to conflict with a person’s pursuit in working a job they enjoy. This forces them to put their professional dreams and aspirations aside and work a job they dread. Even with this way of thinking, there seems to be a much larger gap between the rich and the poor, with the middle class significantly shrinking.
With the creation of the internet, however, people have found ways to make a living without having to work eight hours a week. This has helped thousands of Americans escape the dreaded work life most people are forced to endure. People now make millions of dollars by being “influencers” on social media which was never possible before.
Since it is becoming much harder to make a living working a 9-to-5 job, people are now finding new ways to be financially successful. This content-making trend started in the 2010s with YouTubers online. People would make funny videos, vlogs and other content through YouTube and quite a few people were able to profit off of views and sponsored advertising. This new way of making money continued to grow through the creation of TikTok, where now thousands of Americans use it as their primary source of income. Social media influencers get to make their own hours and become their own boss. The amount of people that make money this way has grown exponentially in the last decade. According to PYMNTS, 50 million people make money by posting content on social media. This number is also expected to increase by 10% to 20% each year. Why would people want to work a 9-to-5 when they can make more money through social media? However, this job is not attainable for the majority. Most people that create videos on social media do not make any money by doing so. Out of the people on social media that are considered to be influencers, only 13% make a significant income. TikTok creators need to have at least 10,000 followers and 100,000 views to start making money, and this is just not the reality for many social media creators. Will the American work schedule and federal
wages improve in the future? Will wages be able to keep up with inflation and the rising cost of living? Having to work multiple jobs that are not enjoyable just to be able to make ends meet could be the future unless something changes. Should the average work schedule try to model the social media framework and have workers make their own hours? Is that even possible? Maybe it's time to rethink how American work structures are organized and move with the times, or maybe people need to take that risk and create that YouTube account.
by Luis Villapudua
* spoiler warning for “Arrival”
Denis Villeneuve’s Academy Award-winning “Arrival” presents a masterful twist on the sci-fi genre by challenging how one perceives time. “Arrival” focuses on humanity’s first contact with alien life forms and their attempt to communicate with humankind before war breaks out between nations. Linguist Louise Banks, played by Amy Adams, leads a team of investigators to decrypt the alien language. Through this encounter, “Arrival” introduces an existential question to the audience regarding how humanity perceives time and the lives we lead.
“Arrival” focuses on two fundamental concepts that humanity experiences: time and language. We experience our lives in a linear path—experiencing one event at a time. We use language similarly—one word at a time to convey a series of ideas. The time we experience is then conveyed through language. On the day of first contact with alien life, the U.S. military recruited Louise Banks to help decipher the alien language; the species and language were later named Heptapod. Heptapods do not experience time the same way humankind does. Time is bound to
language since time can only be interpreted through a linguistic lens. The Heptapod’s language is elliptical, conveying entire sentences and concepts in one ellipse. The elliptical nature represented in their writing system is also how the Heptapods experience time. The writing system closely resembles the visual complexity of Chinese characters but is distinctively circular. Their thoughts are fully expressed by one notion reading the same forwards and backwards instead of linearly like how time is expressed by humans. Heptapods experience the past, present and future all at once, which means the future and the lives they lead are predetermined. We are individuals. We are told that we are unique, and in turn, our experiences are too. With this mindset, it becomes incredibly hard to see beyond the scope of our lives. We experience things on a moment-to-moment basis. We have experienced the past and are currently confronted with the present, but there is no way for us to experience the future. It is only a guessing game when it comes to understanding the future. When the Heptapods offer their language to Louise during the climax of the film, she does not fully understand the language until they explain to her the
“Sapir-Whorf hypothesis,” or the “linguistic relativity hypothesis.” This is the theory that language changes the way we perceive the world around us. It reformulates the way she experiences her life and the way she thinks—she unlocks the ability to perceive beyond her current presence. This experience allows the audience to challenge their ideas of time and understand concepts outside of their comfort zone. Would you still make the same decisions knowing that no matter what you do in your life, it's all going to play out the same way? Do you continue to make these choices even when you know the future? Looking at our lives as an individual experience from birth to death, we think about the moments in between, but if we separate our moments from these certain points in time, do they still make sense?
Do we separate our experiences from a timeline, or do we allow them to be one concise narrative? “Arrival” gave us the opportunity to separate ourselves from our current mindset and question the idea of existence. This idea allows us to grapple with and reformulate what time is. How we interpret time changes the way we think, and this movie also introduces to the audience the point that if time is a dimension, the past and the future have already happened. The past may happen again, the present has already happened and it will perpetually happen again. Because of our simplistic thinking, we linearly experience time and language, and when we attempt to deliberate beyond that idea, we start to question whether or not the future or the decisions that we make truly matter.
That's a hard pill to swallow, but it is a pill that's placed on the table to become food for thought, and I think “Arrival” does a really good job at presenting this in a way that's unique in comparison to other films in the sci-fi genre. We think about the future in this big negative context—as this dark, uncertain and scary thing on the horizon. We see this in movies like “The Matrix,” and “Blade Runner.” Multiple movies within the genre follow the same idea that the future is dark and scary. “Arrival” puts a unique twist on that theme—taking into consideration that the future has already happened, but also that the future is determined and that we might be living in the best possible timeline for things to happen. While that is a point of contention and something to argue about, I feel like it has merit in the way that we perceive the future. We often perceive the future in varied negative lights. “Arrival,” despite this, challenges our
preconceived notions and expectations of the future and turns them into a beautiful and deliberate experience.
by Malory Shaw
Irreversible change. Inevitable doom. Increasing temperatures. We are in danger and who cares? Who cares if Earth is now ready to be taken over by subterranean reptoids? Who cares if Satan himself crawls from Earth’s core screaming, “It’s finally hot enough for my long-awaited dethroning you incompetent humans!”
For decades, climate experts have warned the world of our rising temperatures. Scientists behind international climate change organizations have been desperately warning us about how the ecosystem has become desaturated and ecological diversity has been set on fire, literally! It’s not like they haven’t given us a solution either. In 2023, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released a synthesis that cited human activities as the leading cause for deadly natural disasters, extreme weather, glacier retreats, food insecurity, economic damage to trades such as fishing and the inaccessibility to clean water. The IPCC stressed these devastating impacts and implored us to diversify our energy reliance—to better allocate our water usage and to combat greenhouse emissions by
investing in renewable energy.
But who cares? If governments worldwide refuse to listen to climate change experts that have put aside foreign conflict to focus on this incoming danger, then who will they listen to? Let the lizard people from inner Earth crawl their way up here. Their serpent tongues, emerald, polished scales and tails that arrogantly sashay behind them—maybe they should take over. We had our run and we botched it. Well, perhaps it is unjust to say that we haven’t made attempts to alleviate climate change’s merciless reign over us. There have been concentrated efforts to put a stop to the rising temperatures, so why does it appear as though nothing is changing? Are we in a stalemate or are the worsening weather conditions a sign of something much more malignant?
The Paris Agreement, an international climate treaty, requires each participating country to submit their Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) to state how they will reduce their carbon emissions in accord with the Paris Agreement. Over 190 countries, as of 2023, are aiming to decrease
greenhouse emissions by 43% by 2030. The NDCs are meant to act as pledges from each country, but they are not legally binding—the pledges are reviewed every five years to amend and check progress. If a country so desires, they may change their submitted policies.
The United States, a once-participating country in the accord, has pulled out once again under the Trump administration. Donald J. Trump cited his reasons to be that it gives taxpayer dollars to foreign countries that do not need it. According to him, the deal the U.S. had within the Paris Agreement was not beneficial to the American people. What else would benefit the American people than gold coins weighing down the oil overloads? But let us look at his reasons with a nonpartisan eye, as much as we can. The United States was previously donating money to the Green Climate Fund (GCF) to help developing nations adapt to climate change and invest in renewable energy. During his first term, Trump claimed the U.S. had donated billions upon billions to this fund. With his claim alone, it might make sense to the average citizen why he no longer wanted to be a part of the treaty if he was worried about the economy. It was money that he couldn’t spare. However, at the time of his claim in early 2017, we had only donated $1 billion out of the $3 billion we pledged. Further, if the amount was truly a forthcoming economic devastation to the American people, then Trump was within his rights to renegotiate the country’s contribution, without needing to leave the treaty. Now, we are once again pulled out of the treaty and left wondering what this country’s future carbon emissions will look like without our NDC guideline. We are now heading towards a winding path that whips and swirls into the entrance of hell’s mouth.
Climate leaders also remain speechless with every climate change gathering—dismayed and frustrated. In the most recent 2024 UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) entitled the 29th Conference of the Parties (COP29), world leaders discussed financial and environmental goals in relation to supporting developing countries. The carbon emissions from developing countries had increased by 75% over the last decade, and they were in desperate need for more funds to combat the rising emissions since they had the least amount of resources to help their citizens. Policy agreements were at a stalemate when discussing the finances. Who was going to pay for all of these initiatives, or better yet, who should pay for them? Most thought the wealthiest
countries should invest while others questioned why so much money was being allocated to these developing nations despite the fact that these nations are the most vulnerable to climate change. Irrelevant inquiries like these made COP29 a bust to finding common ground. Many senior climate leaders, such as former UN climate chiefs and secretaries, stated their frustrations with this COP, voicing that real progress is not being made.
That was a lot to digest. Developed countries refusing to help struggling ones, stalemate conversations and the soon-invading devils that might come with their reptoid counterparts. It might sound ridiculous to entertain the idea of devils or lizards taking over the world, but when climate change has been a foreseeable threat since the 1950s, one might get frustrated and hope that hell breaches Earth. What hope do we have? What will the next five years look like? The next ten? Will there be something to look forward to? A lot of people have stopped caring. If world leaders have refused to help each other and their citizens, then why continue to put effort into a seemingly fruitless endeavor?
Cynicism is the best word to describe this impending feeling one gets when reading what our world leaders are saying versus what our international scientists are pleading. The pleas from those concerned for the environment are drowned out by the sound of gold coins scattering across the polished, marble floors of our bourgeoisie leaders. Every last cent is stained with the blood of climate change victims, humans and wildlife alike.
Let’s take a quick pause and get a breath of fresh air. Our perspective so far has been pessimistic, but perhaps a new perspective can give us some much needed hope.
What progress has been made so far? Renewable energies have made their way to countries all over the globe, China being a leading country in wind and solar energy. Despite being the largest emitter of greenhouse gases, China has slowed down their emission rates in 2024 by using renewable energy and expanding electricity usage across various sectors. The footprint of each Chinese citizen is two-thirds what an American citizen averages. 90% of Norway’s new car sales have been electric cars. China has also banned new coal-powered steel plants opting for electric furnaces. There are many other countries like Brazil, India, Finland and more that are fighting to lower their emissions and focus on renewable energy.
Globally, deforestation remains a challenge, but its pace has slowed. It is important to recognize the many nations actively working toward a more sustainable and promising future.
Scientists have predicted that by 2100, the global temperature will warm by approximately 4 degrees Celsius, with a devastating impact on human life. With the progress made in recent years, the trajectory seems to be around 2 to 2.1 degrees—a temperature that promises a much better future. Every degree matters, and we must strive for lower temperatures.
It might feel like an hourglass is looming over the Earth, silently waiting for our judgement day. Each grain of sand hitting the bottom of the hourglass jar forcing us to painfully reckon with the looming consequences of climate change. We might feel alone in the battle, sitting at our screens wondering “What can I do?” We’re desperate for a tangible solution. Staying educated and up-to-date is a great first step. Hear what global leaders say at the next COP. Push your government by being loud, advocating for the protection of natural spaces, rally with local people who care about this issue and talk to your leaders. Educate each other and, most importantly, protest against actions that exacerbate climate change’s symptoms. History has repeatedly shown that protests drive change and achieve results.
Perhaps our future is full of prosperity—one could only hope. Have hope that the progress we have made counts for something. The end of the world isn’t here, and as long as it’s not tomorrow, we have time.
by Zoey Cambley
*ChatGPT in bold
When I tell people I want to be a writer, they always reply with, “Aren’t you worried that AI will take over?” with their nose scrunched and head tilted. Every syllabi contains warnings on AI— online midterms are not to be trusted, beware of discussions half written and look out for hints ofChatGPT interlaced in thesis statements. Over the course of my creative writing degree, many of my professors have addressed this issue and have stated that in order to engage in creative writing, one needs to be human, to have unique thoughts, observations and experiences— not a regurgitation of others’ ideas. Yet, as I sit here, tapping away at my keyboard (oh really?), wondering whether my own ideas are truly my own, I can’t help but think about the gray area between human creativity and machine learning. Now I must question my own aptitude for writing and rethink my career choices, and maybe this emotionless model of information has something to say about it too.
What constitutes human creativity? At its core, creativity involves thinking outside of conventional boundaries, allowing us to break free from routine
thought patterns and approach the world with fresh eyes. It’s about connecting the dots in unexpected ways, questioning assumptions, and finding solutions or creating works that resonate with emotions, ideas, or experiences in ways that feel new and meaningful.
Creativity often comes from a combination of experiences, observations, intuition, and imagination, and it’s uniquely human because it is influenced by our (our?) thoughts, emotions, memories, and the unique lens through which we experience the world. While tools like AI can assist in the creative process, they can’t fully replicate the depth, nuance, and emotion that human creativity can convey. I bet that really pisses Sam Altman off. AI isn’t alive. It doesn’t have a soul. Which it is pretty eerily aware of. It doesn’t have a memory of the first time it stood on a balcony and watched the sunset turn the sky to gold, or the ache of a love lost and found in a single glance. It doesn’t know the pain of losing a loved one or the joy of an unexpected friendship. How can it not know the feelings of these experiences, yet knows exactly how to describe them? It only mimics, mirrors, and reflects.
It creates nothing new, only the semblance of creation. And perhaps that’s what sets us apart—our ability to transform experience into something that resonates on a deeply personal level with others, something that can’t be predicted by an algorithm. Yet here is the algorithm working to creatively develop this article in an attempt to resonate with the readers. Maybe the future of writing won’t be about AI or humans alone, but about what happens when we bring both together: the stories we tell, informed by technology, but driven by our humanity. Because, in the end, it’s not just about writing—it’s about understanding, about connecting, about being. And that, I believe, is something no machine will ever be able to replace. Really? How interesting for you to assert that.
Once in a creative workshop class we were prompted to write with AI—to test its ability compared to our own. It gave me simple sentences and was creatively inept at describing complex concepts. Now years later revisiting this software, the updates are apparent, and somewhat nerve-racking. But the bottom line is still the same: the arts will remain the arts, despite AI constantly intruding into these disciplines. What if I kept everything unbolded and presented this article as my own, would you detect the falsehood of this piece? Are you still reading? Did you get bored? Depressed? Did I invoke an existential crisis, yes, no, maybe so?
I hate how people cower in the face of AI. Just create. Stop worrying if AI is going to take over. You can even work with AI to advance your art and have it give you prompts for writing exercises or music recommendations. Use it as a tool to advance your original craft, not as a supporting crutch in your career. Life has a funny way of working itself out, so you will face the realities of it sooner or later. Additionally, AI's creative output is based on patterns and data it has been trained on, meaning it can only generate ideas that exist within the confines of its programming and input. It doesn’t possess the ability to think abstractly, explore the unknown, or take risks in the same way a human artist might. Even the machine is urging artists to take more risks, go beyond the bounds of algorithms and what’s already been created. Wouldn’t you feel more satisfied if you knew that you produced all your own work, pass or fail? Isn’t it more rewarding to put yourself out there completely and wholeheartedly, even in the face of AI? So dare to create and explore the uncharted territories
of your imagination without the reliance on AI. Your voice is your power, and it belongs to you alone.
by Emma Christian
We used to always hear stories about how people met their significant others during a night out or in a coffee shop. Couples had romantic stories of when they first started dating and knew they were meant to be. We grew up watching movies where couples met in an elevator and bonded over music or a man saves a woman from being hit by a car. Then, of course, they fall madly in love. This idea of spontaneous romance seems to be more and more unrealistic as time goes on. Since the start of the digital age, society within the dating world has taken a dramatic shift. The question now is, are dating apps the future of romance?
Most people in the dating world have downloaded a dating app at some point. From Tinder and Hinge to Bumble or Match, there seems to be several different outlets and opportunities to meet a potential partner. The number of couples that meet organically are rapidly decreasing nowadays. Oftentimes when you ask a young couple how they met, it isn’t surprising now to hear them say, “on the apps.” But how successful are these apps? Do many people
actually find love by dating through a screen? It seems that in most cases, people end up deleting the app without any success. Julia Novak, a freshman at UNR, downloaded Hinge during January of this year.
“I wasn’t in a relationship and I thought it would be fun,” Novak said. This seems to be the approach that most people have towards dating apps— going in with little to no expectations, curious to see what all the fuss is about and to stay in the loop. So what changes? Novak only had the app for a few days before deleting it.
“It felt very weird and artificial,” Novak said. “I felt like people weren’t looking for long-term relationships.”
Dating apps seem to attract people that are looking for more temporary, casual relationships. Yet, people still somehow find long-term partners through these outlets. It is very hard to figure out someone's intentions through a screen—is this why so many people get discouraged? It seems people that find success on dating apps tend to be more outgoing and willing to put the time in to find someone that wants
a real relationship. Despite her unsuccessful endeavor into the world of dating apps, Novak still believes that everyone should try it once. The truth is, dating apps do work for some people. Maybe it depends on the kind of person you are. Receiving likes and awkward pickup lines can be a bit of a confidence boost, but is it really worth all of this time for the smallest chance that it might work for you?
Ava Dyer, a freshman at UNR, downloaded Hinge and Tinder in September of last year. After almost three months on these apps, she met her girlfriend on Hinge.
“Meeting people organically is hard, especially in a romantic way,” Dyer said. “You have to search for it and be on [the apps] for a while.” With dating apps, it seems that truly committing time and effort to find a match is key. Your sexual orientation can also play a part in whether or not dating apps will work for you. “Men and women are on dating apps for different reasons. Men, in my experience, are more so on there for hookups while women are searching for a deeper and more meaningful connection.”
It looks like dating apps might be the future of relationships and meeting people organically is slowly fading out of the picture. Will everyone eventually have to submit to dating through a screen? How about those people who refuse to hop on this ever-growing trend? Will there still be hope for these people to find love in the future? There are still plenty of people that meet organically, so maybe for now we should focus on what works for us and just keep an open mind towards the digital world of dating. Maybe we will find the love of our life while waiting in line or maybe it will be through a dating app. Either way, love is still all around and if we keep our hearts open to it, we might just find it for ourselves.
by Zoey Cambley
*spoiler warning for “Sorry to Bother You”
If the dominant society systemically rejects you—your identities, your culture, your interests, your existence—you have to reimagine the future and what this society could look like, what it should be like. Afrofuturism is a genre that sucks the marrow out of racist and colonial social structures and envisions a new world where African Americans are at the forefront of the future. As defined by tate.org. uk, “Afrofuturism is a cultural aesthetic that combines science-fiction, history and fantasy to explore the African-American experience and aims to connect those from the black diaspora with their forgotten African ancestry.” Coined by American writer Mark Dery in 1993, the afrofuturistic aesthetic is seen in music, literature and films. Octavia E. Butler, one of the most prolific afrofuturism authors, grew up finding solace in sci-fi novels but never saw herself reflected in the pages before her. She decided to dedicate her career to afrofuturism because she believed that African American spiritualism and identity should coincide
with science fiction.
“I never bought into my invisibility or non-existence as a Black person,” Butler wrote. “As a female and as an African American, I wrote myself into the world. I wrote myself into the present, the future, and the past.”
Butler’s notable afrofuturistic novels, “Parable of the Sower” and “Kindred,” investigate the temporality of Black lives and puts their narratives at the center of the story. An afrofuturist lens offers the audience to imagine a different world, one that is non-exploitative and inclusive, while also providing a mode to create that future. Activist bell hooks crafted the theory of the “oppositional gaze” where Black folks, primarily Black women, have to utilize an alternative gaze since the dominant gaze has subjugated vulnerable people in media throughout history— creating a legacy of erroneous representation. Afrofuturism is the combination of the oppositional gaze and speculative fiction that challenges the rampant racism in the media. As more Black actors, directors, writers and producers are getting the
recognition they deserve, more afrofuturist films are being created.
“Black Panther” has become one of the most famous afrofuturism films in recent years since it is part of the widely known Marvel Cinematic Universe and sparked one of the most outward conversations of Black excellence. The film illustrates an uncolonized Africa with advanced technology untouched by imperial nations. Due to the rare supply of Vibranium mined within the mountains of their land, Wakanda was shielded from the world and had the ability to preserve a utopian society. After the film premiered, everyone chanted “Wakanda Forever” as a promise to further civilization in the face of oppression—one that turned into a radical tool for hope. As one of the highest rated Marvel films of all time, “Black Panther” has become a vessel for inspiration, however, other afrofuturistic movies have also added to this vision.
The film “Sorry to Bother You” explores the present capitalist hellscape through the story of Cassius Greene—a telemarketer in Oakland who is forced to develop a “white voice” to make a living. The movie falls more under the category of Black surrealism, a lens used to warp the present African American experience, but nonetheless imagines an alternative reality to our own by making a satire of corporate exploitation. The main company in the film, WorryFree, is rebranding indentured servitude and forcing workers to become half horse and half human for better productivity. Cassius is deeply disturbed and intrigued by this macabre universe and, as he climbs the social ladder, he becomes another cog in the machine in order to be successful. Towards the end of the film when he realizes that the company is turning workers into “equisapiens,” he tries to expose them and ends up turning into one himself. Although campy and completely unserious, the film is one of the best satires I’ve seen in the last few years because it confronts the atrocities that we accept everyday—like working for malignant corporations.
Afrofuturism is a wonderful vehicle to explore what the world would look like without systemic oppression and how African Americans would be able to exist if it weren’t for the present societal restraints. However, more films need to utilize this lens and re-envision a future where Black culture isn’t tokenized but centered within mainstream media. Change is upon us and it is up to us to rewrite the narrative that we have been forced into. In “Parable of the Sower” Butler writes, “All that you touch you change. All that
you change changes you. The only lasting truth is change,” a mantra that must be remembered when going forward in the future. Because if we don't change, then companies like WorryFree will manifest and we will all be a part of an equisapien society.
by Olga Guerrero Pena
The future feels like a moving target. Most of us started this journey behind a screen—taking online classes from our childhood bedrooms, adjusting to isolation and wondering when life would feel normal again. But normal never really came back, it just changed. Now, as we step into the next phase of our lives, the world still feels unpredictable. Jobs are competitive, industries are shifting, but every time we scroll through social media, it seems like everyone else has it all figured out.
The truth? No one does. And that’s okay. It’s easy to doubt ourselves—to wonder if we’re on the right path or if we’re already falling behind. But if the past few years have taught us anything, it’s that we are resilient. We’ve learned how to adapt and how to keep pushing forward even when nothing made sense. But what if you don’t know what you’re looking for yet? That’s the scary part. Some of us have clear dreams while others are still figuring it out—both are okay. The paths we take will change, and sometimes we’ll have to pivot, start over or take a detour we never planned for. That doesn’t mean we’ve failed, it’s proof that we’re still learning, still moving, still in the game. Now, let’s talk about how life isn’t some neat, step-by-step manual where we get clear directions.
You don’t get a sticker when you’ve made it and a five-year plan doesn’t just magically fall into place. If anything, it’s more like those “choose your own adventure” books, except sometimes, you don’t even remember choosing the page you landed on. But here’s the thing—transformation doesn’t happen when you’re sitting in the same spot, waiting for the next chapter to write itself. Transformation happens when you get up, take a deep breath and go look for the story you want to tell.
My mom always says, “el que no busca, no encuentra”—if you don’t search, you won’t find. And she’s right. No one’s going to knock on your door and hand you your dream job, tell you your purpose or give you a neon sign telling you exactly what to do next. Opportunity doesn’t come to people who are too afraid to open the door. To truly begin anew or challenge yourself, you have to be comfortable with change. You have to embrace it, even when it feels like the ground beneath you is shifting. Because let’s be honest— whatever you are not changing, you’re choosing. Fear can keep us stuck. It makes us question every decision, every risk, every leap of faith. But no choice is permanent. If something isn’t working, we can change it. If we feel lost, we can explore. “El
camarón que se duerme, se lo lleva la corriente.” If you stay still for too long, the current will carry you away. Life doesn’t stop moving, and neither should we. It just means we’re figuring it out in real time, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
If there’s one person who understands the beauty of uncertainty, it’s Paulo Coelho. His novel “The Alchemist” follows a shepherd named Santiago who has this big dream of finding treasure. His journey is full of detours, setbacks and moments where he questions everything. Sounds familiar? One of the biggest lessons from the book is that “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”
Now, that doesn’t mean we just sit around waiting for the universe to do all the work. Santiago doesn’t chill in his field waiting for a treasure map to fall from the sky—he moves. He listens to his instincts, takes risks and learns from his failures. And that’s something we all need to remember. The universe can open doors, but we’re the ones who have to walk through them.
Coelho’s work is all about self-discovery and the idea that our personal legend, our purpose, comes to us only when we start searching for it. In a way, that’s the best advice for anyone on the edge of a new beginning—don’t be afraid to step into the unknown. The path ahead won’t always be clear, but clarity comes in motion, not in stillness. Even when things don’t make sense, every choice, every experience and every setback is leading somewhere.
I think a lot about how easy it is to get caught up in comparison. We measure our lives against people we barely know, forgetting that everyone moves at their own pace. Just because someone else has reached a milestone, doesn’t mean we’re behind reaching ours. Our stories are different. Our timelines are different, and there’s no deadline for growth.
So, if you’re feeling lost, uncertain or overwhelmed by the future—know that you’re not alone. Keep searching. Keep showing up. The world is unpredictable, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t full of possibilities.
by Zoey Cambley
Imagine traveling to a pink oasis with disco balls casting a light over the fuchsia shores as queer aliens play beach volleyball. Everyone is painted in shades of pastels and wearing whatever they want. There are no arguments over who is allowed to play in women’s sports or what literature to keep away from children. People are free to exist as who they truly are—a world that celebrates femininity like the movie “Barbie” forged together with the dynamic queer identities of the song “Pink Pony Club” to create a truly inclusive society. Queer theorist José Esteban Muñoz illustrated that this type of radical imagination could become a reality. In his book “Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity,” Muñoz discusses how in order to reimagine a future for queer people, we need to alter our framework of thinking as a whole.
With our current political landscape and heteropatriarchal society, it is hard to be gay these days. Everyday it seems like there is a new ban on books or a law enacted against trans women, so it’s no wonder why the girls, gays and theys are struggling under this presidential regime. However, in these testing times, I turn to Muñoz’s lessons and dare to hope for a better future rather than accept this perilous present. Muñoz discusses the concept of queer futurity and how “Queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality or concrete possibility for another world” (1). Queer futurity is a form of critical escapism where queer folks reimagine their lives outside of heteronormative constraints. Under neoliberalism, a system based on conformity, LGBTQ+ people are encouraged to submit to the ideals of the nuclear family, which has
been painted as a symbol of liberation. Implemented by Ronald Reagan in the ‘80s, neoliberalism is based on free-market capitalism, and therefore pushes for the heteronormative agenda because it best suits the market. Consequently, gay and lesbian people are pushed to assimilate to the ‘normative’ structure in order to still be consumers that buy into marriage and children.
Muñoz asserts that to ensure queer futurity, queer people have to challenge social constructs, one of those constructs being time. Many queer theorists highlight the idea of queer time, a concept that claims LGBTQ+ folks’ experiences aren’t parallel with straight people’s experiences. Most queer people’s lives operate outside of the linear heterosexual time that entails marriage and having children. Queer experiences, like coming out or transitioning, warp time in a way that makes their ‘clock’ nonlinear because these events can happen at any part of one’s life, whereas a straight person’s time usually follows a series of events one after the other. If queer people try to exist on a linear timeline, they are forced into the same heteropatriarchal systems that expect them to conform to the neoliberal agenda— getting married and having kids. Now I’m not saying that kids and marriage are necessarily bad, but for queer people these temporal experiences have been points of oppression. Same-sex marriage was only
legalized a decade ago and, before that, domestic partnerships were rarely recognized. Queer relationships have time and time again been invalidated—forcing the LGBTQ+ community to align themselves within the margins of heterosexual time.
Muñoz’s ideas are radical, his book exists as polemic even to this day. It is crazy to imagine an entirely new world where time is nonlinear and utopias become a reality. But that’s the point—to alter our lens of the world and “insist on a queer futurity because the present is so poisonous and insolvent” (30). This theory calls for hope and optimism during these times of uncertainty. If we can’t imagine a better future, how the hell are we going to change the present? So I choose to believe that a queer utopia will exist, where we as a collective can build a world where girls and boys can all be queens every single day. A world where trans bodies aren’t ridiculed and surveilled, but celebrated and loved—devoid of debates on whether drag queens will spread the gay agenda to our children, and instead see them as figures of talent and art to inspire the youth. Instead of herding to LGBTQ+ places for refuge, all third spaces will offer comfort to any person despite their sexual orientation, race, class or gender. In a queer utopia, we reject these oppressive systems and reimagine ways to exist peacefully, gay or straight.
by Insight Magazine Staff
Zoey Cambley
Graduating is like watching your favorite movie theater close, happy for all the memories but sad that another institution has withered away into dust. It’s like sitting in your favorite coffee shop for the last time, drinking the latte you ordered during move-in week, this time tasting more bittersweet than usual. Graduating is the excitement and satisfaction that it’s over, but soon you face the melancholy music that this chapter is coming to a close. College is one of the most transformative times in your life, so how is it over so fast? For some of us we’re continuing our education, others are diving into the deep end of the adult world. Some might find their footing right away while others will follow all sorts of scrambling paths, but everyone will remember these times. Whether you hated college or absolutely loved it, there is no doubt that you won’t remember it. I’ll always remember how hellish the first week felt or how comforting it was to make my first class friend or see someone who would be my semester crush. I’ll remember the time I walked into a lecture an hour late with the sheer confidence of someone who thinks they’re on time, early even. Or the time I twisted my ankle at the first and only tailgate I attended. I’ll think back to the time I marched into my advisor’s office after the first week and changed my major without a second thought. I’ll especially cherish the memories of me celebrating my newfound independence with a septum piercing, followed by a couple of tattoos and an ID from Texas saying that I was a young 23 year old, sorry mom.
I’ll always remember the moment I picked up an Insight Magazine at the club fair and declared that I would join it no matter what. How it felt to get my first story published three years ago, I hung it on my wall and decided that this would be my thing. I would finally be the writer I always dreamt about being. I’ll never forget the feeling of adding an English major along with GRI because I needed to show that I was serious about my dreams. I remember the clammy panic I felt during my first workshop, wondering if my passion was just a figment of my imagination or something tangible. I certainly will always think back to the first interviews I did for Insight where my newly timid English self got pushed into the journalistic throws of chatting with all the local bands for our “Freshman Class segment” two years ago. I now look back at these souvenirs of the past with such a warm ache, not only for them being over but for the girl that I once was and for the college graduate I have to be. I mourn, yet have so much pride for the college freshman that got her heart shredded and dared to be exactly who she was at any cost. The girl who pushed herself so that the future woman would have no regrets, knowing she did everything with her heart as a badge of honor, gilded on her chest. I’ll cherish all of my Insight editions as reminders of a time where I got to truly find my voice. I’m grateful to have these time capsules covering what I cared the most about during my undergrad. The magazine has become a footprint of the family I’ve gained over these years and our collective visions.
Some say that Reno is so close to hell that you can see sparks, and when I first stepped onto the University of Nevada, Reno campus as a freshman, ash was fittingly falling out of the sky. However, as I lived my next four years of my college career in Reno, I found that that negative idiom was very far from the truth. I deeply enjoyed my experience as a journalism major and it is hard to imagine that it is nearing its end. Insight Magazine is a project that I hold dear to my heart as I continue to push for its evolution and hand the keys to our next executive editor. I remember showing up to my first volunteer meeting, unsure of what or even if I would contribute anything, but the handful of creative enthusiasts on staff assured me that whatever I produced would be worthy of print. Working with our recent array of staff has created a magazine better than anything I could have imagined. I don’t know what my next steps are in life after college, but I know that surrounding myself with amazing people and creating something I am proud of will always push me in the direction I want to go.
For me, college stood as an outlet for me to find my place. My place within the university community, place within my fellow students and place in the world. As my four years are nearing an end, I look back fondly knowing that I found my place in so many aspects of my collegiate life. I found my place in the Reynolds School of Journalism, which has provided me some of my fondest memories for the people it connected me to and the opportunities it provided. I’ll remember the time I went to Lake Tahoe to present our class project at the UNR Tahoe campus with my JOUR 442 class and got to hit the bars with the late Professor Todd Felts, something I will never forget. I also made such a great group of friends at the RSJ. I’ll always remember the late nights at our friend Lili’s house either making s’mores after a basketball game, playing jackbox games or dressing up for a wacky costume party. Or that one time Jace brought me and our friend Madi to watch "The Substance" and he was laughing at our reactions the whole time. I found at the end of my college experience I have surrounded myself with people I can unapologetically be myself with and that will forever stick with me. Finding my place in the RSJ gave me community and friends, but also introduced me to Insight Magazine—the place I credit to be my greatest creative outlet in college. I remember during NevadaFIT, I saw Insight Magazine for the first time and was all over it. I remember planning to get involved my first semester, but I just didn’t get to it. However, during my second semester of junior year, Jace and I became good friends while working on the Bateman Competition Team together. He told me Insight was looking for an Art Illustrator, and I applied because this felt like my chance to revisit that dream I had freshman year. I interviewed, got the job and will never forget how I was so welcomed into the team with open arms. One of my favorite memories from my first semester at Insight was going to Sand Mountain to take our staff photos. This was a long journey and I felt like I really got to bond with the staff and we all became really close. Now, as a senior I have moved up to the role of Art Director. This role has been the true epitome of my creativity. I’ve felt like I could take the crazy designs and ideas in my head and bring them to life alongside the Insight team. From spending hours brainstorming photoshoots and runlists to becoming an Adobe InDesign aficionado, Insight has reignited my creative flame. I am so proud of the work we’ve all done on these magazines and I know I am leaving with some really great friendships. From Insight dinners to shenanigans at our meetings, Insight has been a home to me and I am sad to leave it. However, I know I will take all of the skills I have learned from my time at the magazine into my future career. All I know is that I love to create and Insight made me much better at that.
As my work at Insight Magazine comes to an end, I am left with the same feeling of longing that you may feel when you are leaving a friend's house with uncertainty of when and how you’ll see each other next. In this uncertain world one thing was certain for me on this campus, community. I will spend the rest of my life cherishing the warmth of the friendships I experienced on this campus. I will miss what I feel in this moment forever. Departing the university feels as if I am on the last day of my vacation and I am staring into the sunset wishing more than anything for an extra moment of the light before it crosses the horizon. To my friends, thank you for believing in me and my aspirations no matter how high and making each moment on this campus a memory I will look back with a smile and no regrets. To Insight Magazine, thank you for believing in all of my ideas and my vision since I was a naive freshman, so excited to create his first true editorial photo set, this was the true start of my career and I will forever love what this magazine means to me. To the faculty at the Journalism school, thank you for nurturing my skills and turning my youthful eagerness to create into something that I now can use to express any emotion I may choose to hopefully help others and myself feel something within my art. I have never had mentors before like my professors at Reynolds, please know I will forever credit whatever success I may have in future endeavors to your love and dedication into molding me into the artist and journalist I am. To the university, thank you for giving me what I have been searching for my whole life, a home. This journey has been the greatest slow rush of my life, thank you.
Three years into college, I sit with an overwhelming feeling of wondering where all the time has gone. It feels as though I’ve lived a hundred different lives, yet somehow it has all passed in an instant. Coming into college, I yearned for a defining moment– one that would shape my college experience. That moment for me was discovering Insight Magazine. I remember stumbling upon Insight’s Instagram account, and I quickly knew this was something I wanted to be involved in. Eager, I emailed and sent a DM, expressing my interest in working with the magazine. At the time, the Insight Instagram page appeared to be inactive for a while, so I wasn’t surprised that I did not get an immediate response. That was until I did. I reminisce about opening my phone and seeing that I got a reply to my message, encouraging me to come to the club fair where Insight would be tabling. Very shortly after, I was attending volunteer meetings and excitedly took on an internship under the Art Director in March of 2024. In August of that same year, I was hired onto the team as the Art Illustrator, which allowed me to dive deeper into the beautiful creative process it takes to produce an Insight magazine.
It has now been a year of me working on Insight and I can confidently say this has been the experience I was hoping for all along. It feels surreal to watch this chapter of Insight come to a close for so many of the people I’ve worked alongside, as they prepare to graduate this Spring. It is exciting and yet bittersweet knowing that the team I have become so hive-minded with is moving on. Every edition has a little piece of all of us– the precise editing of each article, endless photoshoots, and designing the layouts of each page. Holding the magazine in my hands after we’ve spent long hours curating each detail of the pages within, the weight of our work made tangible, has always been a reminder of why we do this. Watching the graduating staff, especially our Editor-in-Chief Jace Ouchida, pour so much into Insight has set a precedent for what this magazine is and can continue to be. As I prepare to step into this role next semester, I strive to keep Insight bold, diverse and push to challenge it. It has always been more than just a magazine; it is a platform where beautiful voices are amplified and where all creative spheres are explored. I want to uphold an environment where everyone feels open to expressing their ideas, where they have the room to take risks, make mistakes, grow, and evolve. Change is inevitable and exciting above all else, and I am more than ready to lead Insight Magazine into its next chapter.
It feels like everything is happening all at once—it’s overwhelming and exciting and somehow it feels like I have lived hundreds of lives but also like time is slipping through my fingers. That’s how I would describe my two years in college so far. Since the first day I stepped onto campus, I have been told that these years will go by so fast, and it has. Ferris Bueller’s wise words ring just as true in college as it does in high school, and I do try to stop and look around every once in a while just to make sure I don’t miss it. Looking back at the last two years, all I can see is how much I have grown as a writer and how much work I have put in as a journalist. I see all of the small moments and memories I have created across campus and all of the people I have met through my major. I remember the late nights writing stories, the hundreds of interviews I scheduled, and the dozens of places I went to take pictures or to get inspired. I have fallen in love again and again with writing and these last two years have truly solidified what I want to do for the rest of my life. What especially brings me comfort is knowing there is still so much I have yet to learn and experience. Looking ahead at the two years I have left in college, all I feel is pure excitement and anticipation for what's to come.
I knew I wanted to write for Insight the second I saw their magazine. My first semester in college, I walked straight up to their table at the club fair and started volunteering as a writer. The stories I have written for Insight have been the most enjoyable and creative pieces I have ever written. It never felt like work and it has been such an amazing outlet for me. As Copy Editor, I get to immerse myself in other passionate writers’ work, and it is so inspiring to be a part of the process. I hope to continue writing and revising stories for the magazine—I have learned so much about being a writer through copy editing and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for the magazine. I am going to take in every moment the next two years and put my all in everything I do, but especially for Insight Magazine. I am determined to help preserve and advance its legacy and continue to fight for student media. I am so excited to see where this platform will go in the next two years, and I plan to push its legacy along every step of the way.
Copy Editing
Emma Christian
Production
Saurabh Chawla
Isaac Martinez
Models
Y2K
Summer Bakker
World on Fire
Gabriel Legrange
Afrofuturism
Jean-Aléxander Fonvil
Queer Utopia
Hailey Abecassis
Lily Mauk