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GOVERNMENT
Conservative PAC offers College Republicans $200 to heckle at Abdul El-Sayed rally, messages seem to show
Iman Dashti made the offer in a GroupMe general chat, claiming to be working with America Next GLENN HEDIN
Daily Staff Reporter
Students affiliated with the College Republicans at the University of Michigan are being offered $200 each to travel to an Abdul El-Sayed town hall in Flint Saturday and target the Democratic U.S. Senate candidate with boos and difficult questions intended to generate negative media coverage, messages seem to show. Engineering senior Iman Dashti made the offer in the U-M College Republicans’ GroupMe general chat Oct. 1 at 8:42 p.m., claiming to be working on behalf of America Next, the conservative political action committee financing the initiative. Dashti invited interested young conservatives to make the hour-long drive to Flint to disrupt El-Sayed’s rally. “If you don’t know, I asked Abdul a tough question during his last town hall meeting, and it generated a VERY negative news cycle for him,” Dashti wrote. “We are going to coordinate questions to ask him and spread out to increase the chances we’re called on. We’re gonna boo him. We’re gonna show everyone that ABDUL IS NOT WELCOME IN THE SENATE.”
Democratic U.S. Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed speaks at the “Students vs. Billionaires” town hall at the Michigan Theater Sept. 23.
The previous town hall referenced by Dashti was a Sept. 23 event hosted by More Perfect University, a campus affiliate of the progressive news outlet More Perfect Union. At the event, Dashti, who is Persian American, accused El-Sayed of hurting his community by adopting a foreign
policy stance Dashti claimed was too lenient against Iran’s government amid the United States and Israel’s current war against the country. El-Sayed responded by saying he believes foreign intervention and regime change wars advance corporate interests and harm
the civilians they purport to serve. He said he felt solidarity with Iranians who wish to see democracy in their country. The incident quickly became a national media sensation, with conservative outlets like Fox News and the Jerusalem Post providing highly critical coverage
ACADEMICS
LSA pauses first-semester pass/no credit grading pilot program The University announced the pause, set to start in fall 2027, for additional input and analysis
JONAH FELDMAN Daily Staff Reporter
LSA announced a pause to its first-semester grade-covering pilot program in a Sept. 28 update. First announced in August 2026, the program was intended to help incoming students transition onto campus and “curb the mental health crisis” among college students. The announcement received national attention from several news outlets.
In an update to the LSA website, the college said the program is on hold at the request of University leadership to allow for additional input and analysis. “The first-semester grade covering pilot program in the College of Literature, Science, and the Arts has been paused,” the update read. “University leadership requested the pause to allow further input, analysis, and discussion. The pilot was initially scheduled to begin in fall 2027. College of LSA Dean Rosario Ceballo and her leadership team
remain committed to continuing to work with the LSA community to help first-year students establish early academic momentum, support their well-being, and inspire their intellectual curiosity.” Originally, beginning in 2027, all first-year LSA students were going to be automatically enrolled in the program. Students would still receive grades and instructor feedback, but those grades would not impact their GPAs. The University would retain internal grade records for usage in advising, scholarship and internship
applications and certain other purposes. After its announcement, the program received criticism about its potential to reduce academic rigor and contribute to grade inflation However, others said it would allow students to explore subjects outside of their comfort zone without worrying about their GPA, making learning a more meaningful and equitable experience. Some University faculty said they felt faculty voices were excluded during the development of the program.
NEWS BRIEFS
Fraudulent QR codes placed on Ann Arbor parking meters, AAPD warns The “SCAN TO PARK!” stickers lead to a website designed to steal personal data and payment information DOMINIC APAP Daily News Editor
Bridgette Bol/DAILY Fraudulent QR codes have been placed on parking meters across Ann Arbor.
In a post to Facebook, the Ann Arbor Police Department warned community members about fraudulent QR code stickers that scammers have placed on the city’s parking meters downtown — especially near the Maynard Parking Structure. AAPD cautioned that the QR code directs people to a website designed to steal their personal data or payment information.
The stickers read “SCAN TO PARK!” with a logo from “Park AA,” which is not a real company. Ann Arbor’s parking meters are instead operated by epark. To pay for parking legitimately, customers should first type in the number listed on the parking meter and then pay using epark’s website, the official epark Ann Arbor app or nearby on-street pay station kiosks. The AAPD encourages people who spot the stickers to refrain from scanning them and report them to the department.
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of El-Sayed’s response. Dashti has made multiple media appearances following the incident and said he faced online harassment surrounding the incident. He is now urging other students to cause more disruption as the elections draw closer — this time, with monetary incentive.
“Bring your friends. Bring your girlfriend,” Dashti wrote. “Take her out somewhere nice with the $400 you two will make in literally 2.5 hours. All u have to do to get paid is COME AND SHOW OUT AGAINST ABDUL.” These actions would not be illegal under the laws of the United States or the state of Michigan; peaceful oppositional behavior and heckling are protected as free speech under the First Amendment, even when paid. However, some conservatives have historically raised concerns regarding alleged paid protesting that supports opposing political causes. In an email to The Michigan Daily, Cole Wozniak, El-Sayed’s campaign spokesperson, wrote that El-Sayed’s events do not require monetary incentive to attract community members. “Mike Rogers has to pay $200 per person to get people to show up at an event?” Wozniak wrote. “Yikes. Hundreds of Michiganders show up to every single Abdul town hall for free.” The Daily could find no evidence that Rogers’ campaign had any direct involvement with the plan to disrupt El-Sayed’s town hall. Dashti and America Next did not respond to requests for comment.
ACADEMICS
UMich drops out of top 20 in 2027 U.S. News & World Report rankings The University fell to No. 25 but remained the No. 3 public university SARAH PALUSHI Daily News Editor
The University of Michigan’s Ann Arbor campus dropped out of the U.S. News & World Report’s top 20 best national universities ranking on Sept. 23. The University, which was ranked No. 20 last year, fell to No. 25. The University maintained, however, its No. 3 spot in the public universities ranking. The Ross School of Business and School of Nursing maintained their rankings at No. 4 and No. 6,, while the College of Engineering dropped one spot to No. 6. Additionally, the University’s learning communities and study abroad programs were ranked No. 2 and No. 8, respectively. The U.S. News methodology heavily considers student outcomes, with the Universities’ enrollment, graduation rates and post-graduate outcomes having a combined weight of more than 50%. In an email to The Michigan Daily, Paul Corliss, assistant vice president for public affairs and internal communications, wrote that, while the University prides itself on its ranking as a top public university, he believes the overall rankings are not reflective of the University’s main goals. “While rankings can fluctuate from year to year based on a
variety of factors, they do not drive our work or mission, and we are proud to be consistently recognized among the nation’s leading universities by a variety of independent rankings throughout the year, including being named one of the top three public universities in the nation by U.S. News & World Report,” Corliss wrote. The U.S. News list is not the only set of rankings released this year. Previously, TIME Magazine issued a global university ranking that placed the University at No. 9 out of 519 universities, and ranked it as the No. 1 public university nationally. Information professor Kentaro Toyama, chair of the University’s Senate Advisory Committee on University Affairs, told The Daily he feels outlets like The U.S. News have an incentive to change rankings around to gain online traction. “I don’t place too much importance on dropping a few rankings,” Toyama said. “First of all, I think we all have to take those rankings with a hefty grain of salt, and secondly, I think those rankings are … often involved in generating news, and so they have a reason to want to change the rankings. Otherwise, if they’re the same all the time, nobody wants to read them.”
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2 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
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Ypsilanti Township residents push back against planned data center at UMich town hall “For you, this is just a game. I want to be perfectly clear: This is not a game to me.”
Daily News Editor & Daily Staff Reporter
Ypsilanti residents continued their fight against the University of Michigan’s planned data center in collaboration with Los Alamos National Laboratory Thursday evening at a town hall hosted by the University at the Ann Arbor Marriott Ypsilanti at Eagle Crest. Those in attendance restated the sentiment: The township does not want the University to follow through with the development. The format was similar to the prior Sept. 9 meeting, as attendees lined up to ask panelists about the proposed site. Panelists included Project Lead Steven Ceccio; Patricia Hurn, University interim vice president for research and innovation; Drew Smith, U-M interim vice president of finance; Chris Kolb, vice president for government relations; Khalil Rahal, DTE Energy director of economic development; and Project Director Rob Green. LSA student Julian Izac, an Ypsilanti Township resident, spoke on the harm being done to their hometown. In a speech, Izac accused the University of hypocrisy for its planned data center. “You want us to find some happy media-friendly compromise that doesn’t sacrifice your core priority,” Izac said. “For you, this is just a game. I want to be perfectly clear: This is not a game to me. I don’t know where you come from, but you know where I’m from.”
University alum Rory McGuinness, an Ypsilanti resident, said he believed Hurn made a clear argument that a data center is needed to support increasinglycomplex scientific research. However, McGuinness refuted Hurn’s claim, saying these issues are unable to be solved by machines and accusing the University of engaging in unrealistic thinking. “When I attended the University of Michigan, my professors would not have accepted this quality of reasoning from their students,” McGuinness said. “If the institution making the argument knows the reasoning to be flawed but persists anyway, then it becomes something worse than magical thinking — it is bad faith.” Multiple attendees questioned why the University chose the Textile Road site rather than any of the other proposed locations, such as Willow Run. The panelists defended the choice and called other potential locations unfeasible for a project at scale due to financial and legal constraints. Ceccio said development restrictions influenced why the Willow Run site was not selected. “Right now, there are different entities that both own the land and have a lease to that land,” Ceccio said. “In order for us to build there, we would’ve had to struck agreements with all those. And essentially, we tried, for probably about six months, to come to terms, to try and make this happen. … We were unable.” Ypsilanti Township resident Andy Melichar works at a company that does business with data
PUBLIC SAFET Y
Three injured after fans stormed field at Western Michigan game “I knew it was a crazy, memorable moment happening.”
ALEXANDRA SIM Daily Staff Reporter
On Sept. 5, following the Michigan football team’s lastsecond Hail Mary win over Western Michigan, a swarm of fans climbed the wall separating the stands from the field and stormed the field to celebrate. Storming the Michigan Stadium field is not unprecedented. Attendees rushed the field after wins against longtime rival Ohio State University in 2021 and 2023. However, the practice raises public safety concerns — the University of Michigan’s Division of Public Safety and Security confirmed to The Michigan Daily that three injuries occurred during the event. In an email to The Michigan Daily, Melissa Overton, DPSS deputy chief of police, wrote DPSS strongly discourages students from entering the field. “Our primary concern during
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any large crowd movement is life safety, including the risk of falls, crowd compression, and individuals becoming trapped or unable to move safely.” Overton wrote. “We are aware of three injuries that occurred during the post-game field entry.” Overton wrote that, should an injury occur while attendees rush the field, DPSS has emergency response protocols in place. The University’s Regents’ Ordinance prohibits unauthorized entry onto the playing field, and doing so may result in a civil infraction. Despite various safety concerns, hundreds of students and fans decided to rush the field and celebrate Michigan’s win. In an interview with The Daily, Business junior Cameron Hendrix, a social media content creator, said he saw the event as an opportunity to capture an unforgettable moment.
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centers and said there was a lack of transparency in the University’s operations, particularly in regard to environment, safety and noise level. Melichar said in an interview with The Michigan Daily that conversations with the township had left lingering questions about data center development, and questioned why so much of the center’s computing power would be given to third parties. “There’s a lot of inconsistencies there, but also, when you look at the spread of 90% to Los Alamos and 10% to U of M, what that tells me is that this is a Los Alamos facility under U of M people,” Melichar said. “They are skirting all the laws that they would have to follow if they tried to do this under the umbrella of U of M, which includes taxation.” Public Health student Sydney G. Dame emphasized the need for research to be conducted in a way that minimizes collateral damage on neighboring communities. “I was a researcher for three years, and this is not something that a research body has asked for,” Dame said. “It honestly seems like something the University is very hesitant to advertise to the student research body. … I haven’t talked to anybody who is going to see any personal benefit.” Those on the panel remained firm in their overall support for the project. Green said the facility’s potential environmental impact is negligible and its closedloop cooling system was designed to minimize external pollution, and may even use wastewater which would have no other
purpose than to be discharged into the river. “We’re using more of an evaporated cooling type system,” Green said. “One of the things we brought up previously is…using reclaimed water systems, so water that would already be discharged.” University Regent Paul Brown (D), who has recently spoken out in opposition of the data center’s Textile Road location, also attended a portion of the town hall. In a statement to Facebook, Brown criticized the University’s lack of community engagement and wrote the University is engaging in behaviors that resemble environmental racism. In an interview with The Daily, Brown said he has encouraged the University’s incoming president, C. Cybele Raver, to personally engage with the Ypsilanti Township community. “What I would love to see is for her very early on in her tenure to sit down with the community leaders and hear their complaints, understand their complaints, hear their questions and, of course, hopefully maybe reevaluate the decisions that have been made to place the facility there,” Brown said. Ypsilanti Township Supervisor Brenda Stumbo has spoken out about feeling deceived by the University during the planning phase of the data center. The last to give public comment, Stumbo said she has tried to collaborate with the University in the past but will take a different approach going forward. “I want to beg you, but I’ve already tried that,” Stumbo said. “So we’re going to fight.”
ADMINISTRATION
GEO rallies for allyship ahead of October contract negotiation
“The workers make the University run — not the admin.” KYLIE HARMALA Daily Staff Reporter
More than 100 attendees gathered on the Diag Thursday afternoon for a rally with University of Michigan’s Graduate Employees’ Organization as part of the Week of Action — GEO’s response to ongoing negotiations with the University over 20262029 employee contracts. In addition to contracts, the organization is also bargaining for the University to prohibit the presence of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers on campus property following the termination and detention of graduate student Philippe Kame in July. GEO was also recently subpoenaed by the federal government, which GEO alleges was an effort to suppress student activism. The University and GEO began bargaining in November 2025. Although GEO’s most
recent contract expired on May 1, previous contract terms are active under its evergreen clause. In an email to The Michigan Daily, University spokesperson Paul Corliss wrote the University has been engaged in good-faith negotiations throughout the process, but says some demands made by GEO are outside of contract regulations. “Throughout the negotiating process, GEO has continually emphasized permissive and illegal bargaining subjects that would impact parties and people that GEO does not represent, which has contributed to the slow pace of progress.” Corliss wrote. Originally, the rally was scheduled to follow a walkout by GEO members and allies, until the Academic Human Resources office emailed graduate employees Wednesday evening requesting GEO leaders retract the walkout.
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Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 3
Arts Pretty Sick revolts against genre labels on ‘Anarchy’
4 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
LANE LIU
Daily Arts Writer
If there’s one person in independent music who knows about evolution, it’s Sabrina Fuentes. Having started the band Pretty Sick at just 13, her 2017 eponymous debut EP seemed like a clear-cut revival of ’90s grunge, alternative indie rock and riot grrrl. Subsequent albums, like the band’s 2020 debut album Deep Divine and 2021’s Come Down, featured catchy distorted guitar riffs, headbang-worthy acoustic percussion and Veruca Salt-style layered vocals. Nowadays, though, the band’s style is anything but clear-cut. After a two-year break following the band’s third studio album, Makes Me Sick Makes Me Smile, their 2024 single “Streetwise” (off their subsequent EP of the same name) began their foray into
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a slightly different sound. While they retained the same gritty basslines and Fuentes’ signature vocals, the track stripped down much of the band’s previous instrumentation, replacing heavy acoustic drums with glitchy, hyperpop-adjacent electronic percussion that ricochets like bullets. The release of Streetwise later that year would reveal a project full of this new sound, with tracks like “Tried And True” and “Headliner” balancing Fuentes’ detached style and alt-rock roots with atmospheric synths, vocal chops and rage-inspired beats. Pretty Sick’s newest album, Anarchy, marks a definitive shift into a new musical identity. With production and songwriting collaborations from Oscar Scheller, Frost Children, Eera and album art direction by Lola Dement Myers, Anarchy rises as Pretty Sick’s most experimental and genre-bending project. The album is a motley crew of delicious
new textures, combining elements of alternative rock, shoegaze, trap and electronica. Tracks like “Star,” “City Kid” and “UrNewImTrue” evoke stark parallels to witch house pioneers SALEM, featuring ambient synth melodies, pitcheddown vocals and slow, choppedand-screwed Southern trap-style drum loops. Other tracks, like “Black n Blue” and “home2hide” are more melodic, with clean, catchy guitar riffs or springy synth notes accompanying an otherwise granular and industrial production. Fuentes’ vocal style also varies track to track. In some, she’s moody and drawling; in others, she’s defiant and aggressive. The album leans into a haunting, perfectly lawless yet atmospheric feel, with ear candy sounds of breaking glass and siren-like effects decorating the production (a fitting thematic addition, considering the album’s title).
More than an exploration of sound, however, Anarchy retains and solidifies Pretty Sick’s propensity for tongue-in-cheek irony, and at the same time, heartfelt candor. Lyrics like “And if I said I wish we could still be friends / Would you think I’m corny like the rest of these talentless idiots?” and “Nothing ever hurts anymore / Now that you’re a star, you’re adored” from “Anarchy” toe the line between humor, sarcasm and measured vulnerability. On “home2hide,” Fuentes reflects on navigating change and life choices: “The sun comes up on the city that I live in / Doesn’t matter where I am, I change with the rhythm / Must’ve been hard being burdened by that wisdom / Hard to have hope when you know there’s no decision.” The lyricism is just as introspective and personal as it is catchy, and paired with the rippling synths and anarchic sound effects, it’s almost as if
we’re right there with Fuentes, watching the sun come up and the end of the world go down. As much as Anarchy screams rebellion and youth culture, it is equally a stark defiance against any sort of label; it doesn’t fit cleanly into a genre and is certainly different from anything the band has previously released. Fuentes herself disparaged
Album art for ‘Anarchy’ by Dirty Hit.
Daily Arts Runs a Marathon 2026: With Opinion! DAILY ARTS WRITERS Every year, a team of staffers from The Michigan Daily Arts section trains together to run the Trinity Health Probility Ann Arbor Marathon relay. This year, we at the Arts desk have invited our commentary-brethren at the Opinion desk to run it against us. Meet the Arts runners and our freshly formed rivals below. We might not beat the Opinion relay on Oct. 4, but at least we’ll have a better playlist. Runners from the Arts desk
TIFFANY “PRAYERS UP” MCKALKO
I don’t run. I occasionally did well on the FitnessGram PACER Test in middle school, but over time, that skill was no longer doing anything for my popularity, so I stopped trying. During my freshman year, I signed up for the Big House 5K with my roommate on a whim, and although she did not get up the morning of the race, I managed to trek solo to the start line and finish in about 30 minutes. I ran the 5K again my junior year,
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having ran exactly zero times since freshman year, and finished equivalently. In the past five months I have ran twice, a mile and a half each time. I will be rolling out of bed at 6 a.m. on Sunday, blasting Slayyyter and all but crawling to the start line for my leg. Here’s to hoping I will cross the finish line.
MAX “FLEET OF FOOT” JANEVIC
Putting aside the obvious physical challenge involved, running a marathon (or even
just part of one) presents a rarely discussed, almost-as-daunting task: finding the right soundtrack to motivate you during the race. Throughout my training during the last month or so, I have toiled to find an album that is adequately high-energy and engaging to take my mind off the physical labor of running. Yes, I tried my hand at making playlists, and I’m afraid it’s not for me. I’m not much of a runner; I haven’t done any sort of organized running since middle school, and the vast majority of my
race experience comes from the annual Ann Arbor Firecracker 5K, which I am almost always wildly unprepared for. Because of this, the right musical distraction is essential to ensuring that I won’t run out of steam halfway through my leg of the marathon. I’ve cycled through M.I.A, Massive Attack, even some Black Country, New Road (which got a bit too dreary), but I have yet to find the album that I can trust to propel me to the finish line. I’m attempting seven miles for the first time this evening, and I think I’ll be trying out some Goldfrapp — ooh la la! Runners from the Opinion desk
EMMA “JUST KEEP RUNNING” MARGARON
Running entered my life and never left. It all started in middle school when I joined the cross country team, despite having no relation to the sport beside short soccer sprints. My first fall season in cross country was exactly what I needed after moving to Michigan and starting at a new school — it gave me a strong community of friends and athletes. But even more so, it developed a love for
confining her music to a single category, having posted a TikTok reading, “how it feels when my fanbase accurately understands my music instead of reducing it to hyperpop or indiesleaze.” Ultimately, Anarchy confirms that Pretty Sick has no interest in sticking to a label, and wherever they’re going next, we’re going with them.
running that would never go away. I ran cross for four more years before mental challenges led to me stepping away halfway through high school. The environment had put me in an unhealthy place. I never stopped running though. I immersed myself in the lonely roads by my house, abundant with trees and the breath of Lake Michigan’s breeze. Although putting away my racing watch hurt me, those runs without it increasingly brought back my joy. It still gave me a place to go regardless of what happened in my day. I did return to running competitively at the end of my senior year via track, and it was a healing moment, reminding me why I loved the sport so much. And that time, running and cheering alongside others meant so much more than my individual achievement. Since then, every spring and summer — and, of course, the occasional sunny day in February — I look forward to the weather that brings running back into my life. In Ann Arbor, the University of Michigan Nichols Arboretum trails became a staple, an escape from Mary Markley Residence Hall my
freshman year — both by myself and with new college friends. I love running, and although my competitive relationship with it has fluctuated, I know it is something that I will always turn to, no matter what stage of life I am in. And I am incredibly excited to run with my Daily friends this Sunday.
WILLEM “PREFONTAINE MUSTACHE” DEGOOD
Alongside college football, donuts and falling leaves, cross country was one of the primary things that defined the autumnal season during my childhood. In middle school and high school, every fall was defined by sweltering September workouts, fall colors during October training runs and goosebumps from cool November breezes while nervously waiting on the start line in the final meets of the season. For that span of my life, my passion for running defined the way that I led my life and the goals I had in mind when I woke up every morning. Yet, with that time of my life over, I have spent the past few years figuring out exactly what running means to me as an adult.
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Paralives is still in progress ESTLIN SALAH
Digital Culture Beat Editor
Dollhouses were a true and persistent fascination of my youth. Maybe it is the tiny furniture or the little rooms you can rearrange endlessly, or maybe it is the power of getting to decide exactly where everything belongs. Life simulator games have promised a similar feeling for years, but surprisingly few of them have understood the dollhouse as a genre of its own. There are plenty of games that let you inhabit a small world. Stardew Valley lets you build a life around a farm, while other cozy games have made a cottage, village or island into something that feels almost like a personal terrarium. But the true digital dollhouse — the one where you can build and decorate each wall, design the people who live inside and, most importantly, watch them go about
their little life — remains strangely rare. The Sims has long occupied this space, of course, but after years of updates and expansions, it has begun to feel less like a little world and more like an enormous collection of mismatched systems layered on top of one another, struggling to communicate. Meanwhile, other cozy games offer the aesthetics of a life, leaving you your personal terrarium where much of your time is spent completing quests, gathering resources and checking off a list of tasks. While enjoyable to some, these games can also feel resoundingly empty. Games that simply ask you to exist in a world you have painstakingly put together are fundamentally different from the more goal-oriented, grindset variety of cozy game That — and the death of the Sims franchise — is what made
Paralives so exciting. For six years, fans watched the indie life simulator develop through Patreon updates, development videos and increasingly elaborate demonstrations of what its building tools could do. By the time it was officially released into early access on May 25, Paralives had already spent years becoming something gamers hoped they would want to play. The game has been unusually transparent about its development, making its eventual early access release feel like opening the doors to a house not yet fully furnished. But this was expected. Early access comes with an important caveat: This is a game still under construction. The developers are actively adding features, fixing problems and deciding what Paralives will eventually become. Admittedly, and thankfully, it was released on quite a sturdy foundation.
The Paramaker is an easy example. Character creation can so easily become an exercise in fighting menus and sliders, but Paralives makes customization playful and easy. It is remarkably in-depth without becoming intimidating, giving you a huge amount of control while keeping the actual process intuitive. This ease can be attributed to the blueprint-esque sketches of the body part being modified which then have associated sliders underneath. The visual elements tie in really well with the short, written explanations of what’s being changed. Character creation is simply a treat, especially with this customization extending to clothing and hair texture, color and length. Build mode is no small accomplishment, either. Building a house does not feel like something you have to endure before you can get to the “real”
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game. It is the game in equal measure. Walls, windows, couches and cushions can be pushed, pulled and prodded into any dimension the player may want, then painted any color imaginable — from a color wheel! Even though furniture is somewhat limited, everything is so customizable that the experience is far from restrictive. So far, the game is exceptionally good at letting you put up a little world and put a little someone inside it. Unfortunately, outside of these systems, Paralives starts to feel unfinished. For me, the magic of a dollhouse was never really the house itself: It was everything I imagined happening inside it. I could give the little people names, decide who they loved and loathed, invent their arguments and send them through lives that existed entirely in my head. Paralives
gives remarkably good tools for building the stage, but it does not yet give quite enough to bring stories from mindscape to gamescape. The gameplay is sparse, but promising. As of now, Paras — the tiny people in Paralives — can explore a vibrant downtown and suburban area; get and go to their jobs; participate in pop-up town events such as the Sunday market and yoga; and meet, befriend, fall in love with or embitter other Paras, but it feels superficial. Paras do not do very well at distinguishing themselves from one another, and for now, it feels as though many happenings lack longterm ramifications. Differing personalities all end up still pleasant — love befalls Paras in quick yet shallow waves and betrayals come and go.
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How should universities respond to challenging speech while addressing student concerns? What role can students play in creating a campus culture where people can speak, listen, disagree, and change their minds?
Arts
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Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 5
Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream needs an update REAGAN KELLER Daily Arts Writer
With more than 1,000 hours of Tomodachi Life logged onto my childhood Nintendo 3DS, I was painfully ecstatic for its Switch sequel. I didn’t think I could wait for Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream. Out of desperation, I even downloaded the European version of Tomodachi Life to practice for my Spanish seminar — and of course, to care for an unpredictable island of ridiculously needy yet charming Miis. Tomodachi Life was one of the 3DS’ most beloved titles, and for good reason. Players oversaw an island of customizable characters — officially named Miis — as they begged for flan, threw a torrent of stock images at one another, flew to space and fell in love. The Miis’ quirkiness was the whole selling point, as they caused fun, chaotic and unpredictable problems for the player to solve. On the day of the Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream Nintendo Direct informational presentation, I forgot to bring headphones to the dining hall, so I hammered down South Quadrangle Dining Hall salad in hopes that I’d have enough time to watch it before my next class. And truth be told, I loved everything that it previewed: increased character customization, LGBTQ+ representation, better
Image courtesy of Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream.
interiors, designated family relationships, stock photo pets and custom vocabulary. When the clock turned over to midnight on my birthday, the demo Miis sang to me with a homemade cake, guitar and maracas in hand. For only a brief, fleeting moment, the sequel was everything my 10-year-old self ever dreamed of. But just a week after the full game was released, I got bored. Every Tomodachi Life title tends to become repetitive. That’s no secret. There are only so many
randomized events the developers can invent before the player has seen them all. In the 3DS title, events kept players on their toes. Miis would play frisbee, start a magic show, cook at a barbecue, give the player a photo shoot and host rap battles unprompted. They’d also ask to make friends, chat at the cafe, set their buddies up on dates and fall in love with whoever they chose. But with its new open-world format, the Switch version lacks variety. Now, Miis bump into each other, have
the same conversation for the fifth time that day and head back to home. In Living the Dream, the game’s repetitive nature is not helped by the player’s ability to customize and control everything, even Mii relationships. Now, simply throwing Miis at each other is enough to make them become best friends or fall in love. There’s no stakes, and without stakes, there’s no excitement, no true goal to work toward that can’t be solved in under 10 minutes. The
3DS title had a mind of its own; Miis would take weeks to discover their favorite items, befriend their neighbors, date and marry. The first time I played Living the Dream, I attended my Miis’ wedding 30 minutes after they were created. The lack of content is especially disheartening in light of Nintendo’s efforts to include increased player representation. In 2014, Nintendo faced widespread controversy for its omission of gay marriage in the original Tomodachi Life. Now, in the only
Tomodachi Life title to spotlight gay relationships, married Miis lose their sense of intimacy. They no longer share a bed, they don’t brush their teeth together in their bathroom mirror, they don’t huddle on their backyard porch and, most disappointing of all, they never experience the joy of watching their child grow up. In the 3DS title, Miis grew up across six stages: infant, crawling baby, standing baby, toddler, child and grown-up. Over the course of a week, players could interact with them in a series of minigames, such as rocking the crying baby and spinning the child around. What was such a memorable and sacred part of the original game is now a sad, barren imitation. In Living the Dream, as soon as baby Miis are born, they grow up. And without the inclusion of StreetPass — which allowed 3DS children to travel to islands on local systems and eventually return — sending away Switch babies is a death sentence straight to deletion, as they’re never seen again. The truth is, Living the Dream is in desperate need of a content update. While the game is fundamentally improved by its increased customization, there are still elements of the 3DS version that Switch players deserve.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
TIFF 2026: Caleb Hearon tugs at our indie hearts with ‘Trash Mountain’ home, they must deal with unspoken resentment, childhood nostalgia and the shame of their past, compelling the audience to reflect on the ways they have been shaped by their own hometowns. “Trash Mountain” is not a large, grandiose film that envelops the audience with large set pieces and impossible action sequences. Instead, Hearon offers a lowbudget indie film that magically draws its audience in with finetuned details. Set decorator Erin Frankel’s design of the father’s house, from countless music tapes to an outrageous number of guns, finds meaning in every little object, providing further insight into the characters’ relationships with their late father. The humble style of a rural town is
AUDREY KOVTUN Daily Arts Writer
After starting out in the comedy scene around 2017, making some brief appearances in “The Devil Wears Prada 2” and “Pizza Movie” and finding great success in his podcast “So True,” Caleb Hearon makes his featurefilm writing and lead acting debut in “Trash Mountain.” Based on his own father’s death, the film takes the audience through the emotional yet incredibly funny journey of a Queer Chicagoan’s return to their MAGA hometown in rural Missouri. As Hearon’s character, Gavin, and his sister, Abbi (Zooey Deschanel), clean out their late father’s hoarder
captured in Abbi’s outfits, while Gavin’s need to diverge from his hometown yells at us through his “I miss David Lynch” shirt. Even small details — like Gavin’s nephews playing with Legos at every waking hour — effectively work to place the audience inside the story. These small elements absorb the audience in the uncomfortable yet familiar sensations of returning to one’s family and hometown. Deschanel’s performance is perhaps the most relatable and impressive of any of her recent works. The siblings have a great rapport and Abbi always knows how to make Gavin laugh, but her lack of response and quiet hurt whenever Gavin says something she doesn’t agree with perfectly
Sunday, October 4, 2026 — Puzzle by Eve Orban 4. Discreetly include on an email
1
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7. Item thrown at a bullseye
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8. Miss Piggy, self-referentially
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13. Alan of "The West Wing" 16. Sample version 17. Televised event of July 20, 1969 20. 2024 hit by Bruno Mars and Rosé
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23. When la lune shines 25. Species featured in the "Happy Feet" movie series 31. That, in Tijuana 32. Knight's title 33. Language of Pakistan
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3. Spider-Man creator Lee
39. Actor Baldwin
4. 1987 Michael Jackson album
40. Starter dish, for short
5. ___ of habit
41. "Holy moly!"
6. Extravagantly theatrical
43. One arguing for the unpopular side
7. Blocks
58. Spreadsheet contents 60. Flavorful 61. In its current condition 62. Like some wine and cheese 63. Keanu's role in "The Matrix" 64. Clark of the Daily Planet 65. Uneven? 66. Tokyo, formerly
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38. Long, long time
54. Card collection that the beginnings of 17-, 25- and 43-Across belong to
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37. First lady?
52. Put on TV
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2. Villain in upcoming Avenger's film
50. "A Nightmare on ___ Street"
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DOWN 1. Rapper Post ___
49. Wrath
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34. "Shoot!"
48. "Legally Blonde" protagonist Woods
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grown to resent and feel ashamed of. Still, he learns to live in that discontent and find love for those back home despite the differences he will never reconcile. “Trash Mountain” is not just a film about grief, but a film about accepting one’s own past and learning to accept imperfection — even in old ice cream stands and run-down karaoke bars. Made on a shoestring budget, “Trash Mountain” illustrates the beautiful imperfections of wherever and whomever you may call home. From regrettable past decisions to one’s ability to be present in grief and love, Hearon’s script illustrates the bittersweet experience of returning home and the spectrum of emotions that encompass grief.
16 19
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21. ___-cone 22. Short-term work
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14. Saguaros, e.g.
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in mourning. The gift of “Trash Mountain” is it’s illustration of how the friction between siblings often reveals greater truths and results in stronger relationships. One of the most shockingly relatable elements of the film lies in Gavin’s political misgivings toward his hometown. His previous move to Chicago plays a huge role in the family dynamics throughout the film; he cannot understand why anyone would not yearn to leave such a town. And of course, going home doesn’t always feel safe when home is riddled with harmful political ideologies. From a truck covered in MAGA stickers to a recurring bit about guns, the film openly illustrates the parts of his hometown that Gavin has
TIFF 2026: ‘Wild Horse Nine’ loves to riff
The Michigan Daily Crossword ACROSS 1. Docs' degrees
illustrates the patience required to sustain a sibling relationship. With Deschanel’s pleasantly reserved performance, Abbi personifies the contentment with normalcy and safety that Gavin is unable to surrender to, creating a disconnect between siblings that the audience is sure to identify with. Alongside Abbi is her husband, unnamed and played by Kyle Marvin, who plays the role of a familiar spouse that just wants to make his family laugh. The film truly clicks when Gavin, Abbi and her husband sit at a table with Grandma Helen (Jacki Weaver) and attempt to write a eulogy. The group holds comedic and emotional chemistry that defines the complex dynamics of a family
8. Juicy tropical fruit 9. Repetitive condition, for short 10. "That's ___ quit!" 12. Automated social media account 14. Capital on the Nile 15. Personal, as thoughts 18. T sizes: Abbr. 19. Firearm 24. Green crested lizard 26. Thing with a graphite core 27. Said yes to an invite, say 28. Thanksgiving dessert 29. Words at the altar 30. "Sister Act" extra 34. Word before "joke" or "bod"
66
35. Pub offering
Image courtesy of Searchlight Pictures.
36. Went back (to), as a prior state 37. Antipollution org. 40. "Take ___" (host's request) 41. Sharp-toothed eel 42. Taiwanese PC maker 44. ChatGPT, e.g. 45. Zodiac sign after Leo 46. Playfully mocked 47. Pacific weather phenomenon 51. Sail holder 52. Programming pioneer Lovelace 53. "Aladdin" parrot 55. "The Brady Bunch" daughter 56. Washington's bill 57. Birthday slice 59. Put two and two together?
SAM BROWN
Daily Arts Writer
After reflecting on aging friendships in a remote oceanside village in “The Banshees of Inisherin,” filmmaker Martin McDonagh is back in the same spirit with “Wild Horse Nine.” The late-’60s CIA buddy cop movie is filled with juxtaposition; beautiful imagery contrasts the brashness of its two leads, Chris (John Malkovich) and Lee (Sam Rockwell) — two crotchety cops recalling their decade-long friendship. The two constantly bicker, mocking both each other and their surroundings at every turn, but their non-stop banter slowly becomes grating as the film’s charm dies away in a movie that should be a lot more fun than it is. Malkovich plays Chris, an aging CIA operative involved in staging political uprisings, presidential assassinations and the silencing of foreign
majorities. With a recent cancer diagnosis looming, he wants to spend his last week writing his memoir on the gorgeous Easter Island. In his role, Malkovich supplies the same scoundrel charm we recognize from films like “Burn After Reading,” but twisted with an underlying sense of sadness. His character has done so much wrong in the world and is now coming to the end of his life with hazy regret. If there is one reason to see this movie, it’s Malkovich’s acting. Even in moments where Chris does something as simple as staring off into the distance, you see layers in Malkovich’s sadness hidden in his constant mockery. The buddy cop element of the movie is the film’s engine, which should give way for Malkovich and Rockwell to shine, but ultimately fails to distract from dialogue that no amount of gorgeous Easter Island scenery can save. McDonagh’s dialogue commits the sin of riffing too hard: You can see the seams
of the script while watching. At every chance they get, these two friends are bound to make a “funny” observation, as if using the famous Royale with cheese scene from “Pulp Fiction” as the script’s thesis. When done right, these riffs can feel cute, spontaneous and provide comedic relief. When done wrong, they stick out and often feel like an observation for observation’s sake. This creates a hit-or-miss structure in the dialogue that pokes holes in the film, depriving it of a lot of its juice. “Wild Horse Nine” is a fun and, at times, hilarious movie that is unfortunately bogged down by its dialogue. Simply putting Malkovich and Rockwell on screen together will almost certainly guarantee a good time, and this film is no exception. It has all of the ingredients for a gorgeous-looking classic, but its insistence on messy dialogue makes it fall short of something truly great.
Opinion
6 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
Can we make data centers work for everyone?
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The ROI on rogueness ERIN COLEMAN – Opinion Cartoonist
A
s the entire tech industry shifts its focus to the development of artificial intelligence, there are almost 3,000 planned or ongoing data center projects across the country. At the same time, numerous tech executives and members of President Donald Trump’s administration continue to champion data centers and AI as the next boon of economic progress. Yet, the discontent seen in communities nationwide has made it clear: Data centers are not working for Americans. While politicians across the political spectrum promise local economic benefits, many data centers receive obscure tax breaks and lackluster environmental regulations that encourage development to the detriment of local communities. Furthermore, these massive facilities often leech off of local public utilities, skyrocketing energy bills for households and weighing down local infrastructure. Apart from these immediate impacts, the construction, cooling and powering of these data centers can devastate local environments and watersheds. This stimulates immense distrust and frustration with pro-data center politicians and has unified bipartisan sentiment against data center construction throughout the country — almost three-quarters of Americans now oppose data center projects in their area. Data centers look to create incredibly large returns for their owners and partners, but those returns are currently happening at the expense of the local communities they reside in. If data centers are going to be significantly involved in our future, the communities they impact need a share in the profits they create. Instead of prolonging the ongoing cycle of deception
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and discontent, citizens, corporations and governments can work together and leverage data center development to invest in infrastructure, community sustainability and environmental resilience. First, private interests should be responsible for internalizing the external costs of data center construction and operation. Data centers are driving a substantial revitalization of fossil fuel electricity generation to accommodate their immense energy needs. Beyond releasing high carbon emissions, it is estimated that the air pollution from these sources can create annual localized public health costs as high as $20 billion by 2028. They also tap into local water resources for cooling, threatening the integrity of piped water sources. Accordingly, the baseline for a data center to be built must include commitments to fulfill energy needs with strictly clean, renewable sources and investments in environmentally friendly cooling methods. Second, stakeholders also have to resolve the financial issues that data centers create. In many cases, state and local governments create tax breaks and other incentives to encourage developers to build data centers. These incentives are generating hundreds of millions — and in a few cases, billions — of dollars
in lost annual revenue for state governments across the country. If data centers are to support the local communities they inhabit, all levels of government across the country must be aligned on holding them accountable for their full share of development costs, operational expenses and taxes. Furthermore, data centers that are integrated into local utilities strain infrastructure through their huge water and energy demands. This rising demand risks rate hikes for nearby households and businesses. To compensate for this, governments must require that data center developers invest in expanding generation capacity to the required level and building efficient water use systems, instead of leaving the costs to consumers. Across the country, most of the communities rallying against data center proposals are demanding moratoriums on data center construction or the blocking of permits. Right now, data centers are built and operated at the expense of the public and should be opposed. In this effort, many communities have been successful: Local opposition led to project cancellations worth $68 billion over April, May and June of this year alone.
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Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 7
Mental health awareness is not reflected in college culture
Emmeline Meldrum/DAILY
MAXIMUS CRAIG Opinion Columnist
T
oday, it’s fairly commonplace for professors to encourage students to ask for help and prioritize their mental well-being
during syllabus week. But when students feel they must prioritize these difficult courses and other responsibilities over their health, there is something to be desired beyond token gestures. Generation Z is the generation most open to discussing mental health experiences.
Sports gambling is America’s quiet epidemic. It’s time to act like it. RAMZI DUMKE Opinion Columnist
A
menace has been staring America in the face for years. Its reign of chaos has left relationships forever altered, finances devastated and thousands of Americans dead in its wake. Those of us who enjoy turning on the game after a long day of work have become all too familiar with the specter of online sportsbooks, an industry whose wealth and influence have skyrocketed in recent years. Defended by some of the most powerful people in the country and the legal system of the United States, gambling just might be America’s next big vice. The government must introduce regulation to prevent it from spiraling into an epidemic. An industry that was once illegal in 49 states, surviving only in the backrooms of shady dive bars and the bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip, has found new life in the information age. Since the 2018 Murphy v. National College Athletic Association U.S. Supreme Court decision holding that federal gambling restrictions violate states’ regulatory powers, the old, slow sports betting system has been replaced by a sleek, streamlined medium available at any time, in any place: smartphones. The time it takes to place a bet can be measured
in seconds, and the time it takes for those bets to either hit or miss may only take minutes. The convenience of online betting has allowed the sportsbook industry to enter a golden age, with the annual sum of bets placed increasingly significantly from 2019 to 2025. Even for passive viewers, the impact of betting on sports broadcasts has been glaring. Breaks between play are plastered with star-studded DraftKings, BetMGM or FanDuel advertisements vying for your attention. Announcers, voices that are supposed to provide insight into the game, now include betting odds as a crucial part of their commentary. This is an extraordinarily effective strategy, as sportsbooks are able to succeed in carrying their brand and offers into millions of homes annually. And once companies have you on their app, with an account intentionally designed to be near-impossible to close, they don’t let go. Their business model won’t allow them to cut prey from their web. Sportsbooks regularly bombard users with emails, promotions, limited-time offers and free money to bet with. Their business strategy casts the widest net possible and tries to get as many of their catches hooked long term.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Yet, despite advances in mental health awareness, including a greater willingness to share their struggles and access to diagnoses, college students today still face heightened challenges with depression and anxiety. This can be partially attributed to financial stress and barriers to accessing continued mental health resources, as well as being overwhelmed by news outside their immediate communities. Although we have welcomed therapy speak into our common language, we undermine our message by treating complete self-sufficiency and independence as moral standards in college. In doing so, we misunderstand mental health, failing to keep in mind students whose mental health may lead them to need extra accommodation. For instance, students who experience panic attacks often
face academic struggles, yet still receive judgment when their performance is impacted. This represents a contradiction in our understanding of mental health: While general acceptance of mental health complications has certainly increased, there is still stigma and gaps in knowledge of these conditions’ effects. This is especially true in college, where prioritizing work, sometimes above personal well-being, is a norm. Instead of treating “dealing with it” as a fact of life, we should challenge rigid expectations by being empathetic toward how others approach college. Bearing in mind the unique challenges we all face, we should not penalize our peers for seeking help, especially in cutthroat environments like college where students are expected to balance difficult coursework, competitive internships and
networking opportunities, all while transitioning into young adulthood and forming new social bonds. Anyone could struggle with facing these new challenges, and mental health conditions can pose an especially difficult roadblock, particularly when students have more on their plate in college than they’ve typically experienced before. It’s worth looking at what these conditions can specifically look like while in college, as day-today life in these environments is not always accommodating to those who suffer from mental illness. Social anxiety, though sometimes dismissed as just shyness, is a real disorder that may lead to a harder time interviewing for extracurriculars or at networking events, and is often misinterpreted as antagonism. Obsessive-compulsive disorder, while often associated with
First week fashion
mere Type A neatness, can manifest as procrastination and indecision, due to decision paralysis and perfectionism, which can be academically hindering. Depression may result in executive dysfunction, which can be misconstrued as a lack of ambition or discipline, even when someone is actually highachieving and ambitious. Boiling these issues down to the narrative that those who struggle simply aren’t trying “hard enough” is reductive, especially when what society asks of these individuals takes more strain on their part. In college, where students are already making huge, often scary strides toward independence, we should not treat struggling or asking for help as signs of personal shortcoming.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
LAURA CENCER – Opinion Cartoonist
LSA COLLEGIATE LECTURE SERIES
Thursday, October 8, 2026 4:00 p.m.—5:30 p.m. Weiser Hall, 10th Floor
Open Futures: Anthropology of the Postcarbon Transition STUART KIRSCH Roy A. Rappaport Collegiate Professor of Anthropology
More Than Just a Phase: How Cells Exploit Phase Separation at Membranes to Sense Their Environment SARAH VEATCH
Daniel Axelrod Collegiate Professor of Biophysics
The Sea We Swim In: Exploring the Impact of Media’s Sexualization of Girls and Women L. MONIQUE WARD
Jacqueline S. Mattis Collegiate Professor of Psychology
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Public lectures and reception; you my attend in person or virtually. For more information, including the Zoom link, visit events.events. umich.edu/event/150443 or call 734.516.1027.
Some times are harder than others.
Discover the Well-being Collective: wellbeing.umich.edu
With the right support, you can keep growing.
MiC
8 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
Michigan in Color is The Michigan Daily’s section by and for People of Color. In this space, we invite our contributors to be vulnerable and authentic about our experiences and the important issues in our world today. Our work represents our identities in a way that is both unapologetic and creative. We are a community that reclaims our stories on our own terms.
Abdul El-Sayed holds rally at University of Michigan AMARA SMALL MiC Managing Editor
This midterm season, eyes all across the country are watching the U.S. Senate race in Michigan between Republican candidate Mike Rogers and Democratic candidate Abdul El-Sayed. As a prominent progressive candidate, El-Sayed is gearing up for the race on Nov. 4 and visited the University of Michigan to garner support. Last Wednesday afternoon, crowds of students trickled, then poured, into the Michigan Theater. Beginning at 4:35pm, a series of speakers — including leadership from More Perfect University and the head of the Ann Arbor Tenants Union — invigorated the audience, invoking issues like housing and restriction of free speech that plague Ann Arbor residents. Ten minutes later, El-Sayed took the stage in gray slacks and a black sweater. He saluted the MPU campus community lead and was met by the crowd with thunderous applause. With his approachable language and outfit, alongside his down-toearth jokes about Michigan football and his immigrant father, El-Sayed curated a relaxed, relatable persona. In August, El-Sayed beat U.S. Rep. Haley Stevens, D-Mich., in one of the highest funded Democratic primary races ever. A staunch Zionist and centrist Democrat, Stevens received more than $60 million of funding in the race, including nearly $30 million from groups associated with proIsrael super PAC American Israel Public Affairs Committee. In his answers to audience questions, bracketed by an opening and closing speech, El-Sayed addressed housing, affordable education and artificial intelligence, among various other topics. When it comes to students trying to find housing in Ann
Arbor, El-Sayed says, “he wants to see accountability against predatory landlords and support to students from the University of Michigan.” When he asked the audience who believed that their rent was too high, he was met with a sea of raised hands. There was similar agreement when he asked who in the audience lived in unfavorable conditions, including homes with mold and water damage. El-Sayed also discussed other costs of college life, particularly the cost of attending university. During his intro, El-Sayed advocated for “debt-free, tuitionfree education” so students “don’t have to take tens of thousands of dollars in loans.” He also pushed for “guaranteeing healthcare” and “ending ridiculous wars.” Now, El-Sayed is set to face Rogers in the Michigan Senate race Nov. 4. He’s one in a slew of socially and economically progressive candidates sweeping Democratic primaries across the nation. In Michigan, alongside El-Sayed, there’s 13th congressional district nominee Donovan McKinney and the new Ann Arbor mayoral candidate Yousef Rabhi. In New York City, in an election that arguably served as the catalyst for this phenomenon, Zohran Mamdani not only won the Democratic primary, but also the general race, beating out Republican
candidate Curtis Sliwa, as well as centrist Democrat and known sexual harasser Andrew Cuomo, the former Governor of New York. Much like Mamdani, El-Sayed has been the target of national hate campaigns. Over the past several months, opponents of El-Sayed have pushed increasingly racist ads, targeting El-Sayed’s ethnicity and religion. With Islamophobic, racist sentiments rising across the country — often perpetuated and stoked by politicians — the success of these candidates doesn’t just dismantle the precedent of electable economic policy, but also the effectiveness of culture war attacks. Despite the current Republican administration led by President Donald Trump, the continuous success of progressive candidates across the country suggests that the centrist, pro-Israel, increasingly conservative attitude held by Republicans and gradually by Democrats, is losing elections and (rightfully) falling out of public favor. As progressives captivate the country, winning primary and general elections, a clear message is being sent: Institution politicians and their positions are not addressing or prioritizing the needs of their constituents, and the politics that built America are no longer in favor.
Alexis Albert/MiC
Erasure of the spotless mind
MEENAL KOGULAN MiC Columnist
This piece contains minor spoliers for “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” I remember in fragments. The tears before bed. Lexapro in the morning. My body against the tiles of the shower. Sinking into my Hindu mother’s leather couch. Telling myself I would take walks and shampoo my hair more. Waking up at noon and forgetting what the sunrise looked like. Seeing my red thread from the temple begin to fray. I don’t know when life started to feel scattered and sparse. When it started to eternally break — in pieces, in parts, in the spaces between something and nothing. Suffering became my identity at some point. I desperately wanted my depression to be more relatable, to take ashwagandha every morning and think about death in a casual way. But it wasn’t casual. I knew after cycling through 15 medications. After my psychiatrist started to shrug his
shoulders. After sitting through ketamine infusions and realizing I’d memorized every rule for every card game they played at the hospital. After the Christian woman who sat by my bedside could do nothing but pray for me. I knew when I saw the words “treatment-resistant depression” written next to my name. As time went on, I started to become hopeless about getting better. My efforts felt aimless and I began to believe that maybe I was unsolvable. So I detached myself from the world. And for a while all I knew was my mattress against the floor, empty diet coke cans, and the half-off DVD for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I would play the DVD late at night, and it was comforting because for the first time in a while, I saw myself in someone else. The film follows the main character Joel as he goes through a procedure to erase his memories involving his former girlfriend Clementine after a difficult separation. There was a desperation I immediately recognized in Joel that I felt pulling me, too. I understood
Meenal Kogulan/MiC
the feeling of having something so prominent take up your memories, your life. I understood having the inability to rewrite what had already been marked, but deeply wanting to find a way to let go anyway. I didn’t know how to define myself without my depression, and Joel didn’t know what he was without Clementine. As nights passed by, I started to dream about an entirely different life. Not a world where I move on from my depression, but a world where I get to begin without it. I started to think, maybe there was an impossible solution for me, too. I began an alternative solution for treatment-resistant depression called transcranial magnetic stimulation soon after. For almost 40 days, I would walk into a small medical room, get strapped into a helmet and sit through interchanging magnetic pulses for 20 minutes. This process aims to stimulate nerve cells and activate parts of the brain that are impaired by depression. I was often next to a medical technician who was also South Asian and in her 20s. She was on the pre-med path, had an internship under her belt and was about to graduate. I was trying to make it to the next day. We would chat about the MCAT, what specialty she was going into and psychiatry. Not because I knew about going into the medical field, but because I knew the other side of it. I looked forward to seeing her, to our friendly conversations and the hope that maybe I could finally be able to work toward something, too.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
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The forgotten Koreans of Kazakhstan IAN JOO MiC Columnist
“Why was Hong Beom-do’s body in Kazakhstan?” I asked my dad. I expected the legendary Korean independence fighter to be buried in Korea, or at the very least East Asia. Yet here I was, reading that Beom-do’s body was finally being repatriated from Kazakhstan, of all places, to Korea. My dad’s answer to the question was simple: “Stalin.” Annoyed by my dad’s terse response, I began my own crusade of research. I’ve long held a fascination with Korean history, stemming from my own Korean American background. The Korean independence movement, the Imjin War, the democracy protests in South Korea and much of the rest of our history have served as a testament that, no matter how brutally we’re treated, we always bounce back and thrive. History has instilled a sense of pride in my identity and allowed me to form my own, somewhat shaky Korean identity. Yet in moments like these, I’m reminded of how little I really know. To rectify this, I set about reading several research papers, as well as watching the documentary “Koryo Saram: The Unreliable People,” which served as a valuable resource in my research. When I first realized the documentary’s co-director, David Chung, was a University of Michigan professor, I couldn’t let the opportunity for an interview pass. After sending him a quick email, we arranged a morning Zoom meeting. When I spoke with Chung, he corrected my pronunciation of “Kazakhstan,” and recounted his shock when his Kazakh friend casually mentioned a local Korean population in the city of Almaty. To him, Kazakhstan seemed like the last place for a Korean immigrant, much less an entire population of Koreans. “When I first talked to the Korean people, I asked them how they got there;” Chung recalled. “One by one, each one would say (that) they came there in 1937.” Today, Kazakhstan has a population of more than 120,000 Koreans, most of whom trace their direct history back to Russia. As early as 1863, Koreans began settling in the Far East of Russia in swathes, motivated to escape from droughts and later, Japanese occupation. Like most immigrants, Koreans brought their culture with them, establishing their own clubs, libraries and schools. By the 1920s, relatively stable Korean communities (not unlike the Koreatowns of today) had formed throughout the Russian Empire’s successor, the Soviet Union. However, with increasing tensions between Japan and Russia, the famously paranoid Joseph Stalin’s eyes turned to the sizable Korean population. Due to Japanese colonization, all Koreans were Japanese subjects, whether they wanted to be or not. In 1937, Stalin ordered the forced deportation of all Koreans from the Far East of the Soviet Union to the largely uninhabited Central Asia, with many ending up in Kazakhstan. To gain another relevant perspective, I spoke with Ayaulym Saduakas, a Kazakh graduate student studying international relations. Saduakas also graciously let me interview her aunt, Assel Chakenova, who is halfKorean, half-Kazakh, about her experiences. Chakenova recalled that her great-grandfather, a Korean journalist, was imprisoned before being expelled to Kazakhstan. “He never got a chance to get back to his own country,” Chakenova told me. Soviet Koreans were given less than 10 days to pack their property before they were crowded into specially designated trains (now nicknamed “Ghost Trains”). They arrived in a barren desert and were forced to shelter under the open sky or in domiciles made of reeds and mud. Disease, malnutrition and exposure to harsh weather killed about 40,000 Koreans, accounting for 23.2% of the 172,000 deported. Kazakh locals, out of nothing but the goodness of their hearts, offered food and shelter to
Photo courtesy of Valentina An.
the new strangers. In Chung’s documentary, Soviet Korean Dekabrina Kim recalled that a local shepherd family had sacrificed their yurt to her family, with the shepherd family choosing to live in a nearby hovel instead. “Kazakh people welcomed them and made sure that they (adjusted) in Kazakhstan, even though they were highly repressed,” Saduakas said. As I learned about this history, I couldn’t wash out the bitter taste of injustice from my mouth. Not only has the history of these Koreans, now called “Koryo-Saram,” been largely forgotten, but there is zero hope of reparations from the current Russian government. Further erasing Korean culture, Stalin forcibly closed all Korean-language institutions. In 1926, 98.9% of Soviet Koreans spoke their native language. Today, almost all of them speak Russian as their first, and often only, language. I experienced a new wave of appreciation for my, albeit limited, ties to Korean culture. I had previously treated my heritage as a gimmick, a uniqueness I could brag about to others. Now I realized that my culture was something that could easily be stolen from me, something I shouldn’t take for granted. Still, history shows that people are fiercely devoted to their cultures and traditions, no matter what obstacles stand in their way. The Koryo-Saram are no exception; many have preserved their Korean heritage by fusing it with the local Kazakh culture. While speaking about a popular Koryo-Saram influencer Sasha Yugay, Saduakas noted that when celebrating her son’s first birthday, she combined elements of the Kazakh celebration Tusau Kesu with a Korean holiday. When she mentioned how the child picked a toy from a set, I immediately understood that holiday to be a 돌잔치, the Korean first birthday festival. Even with years of separation, I recognized my own culture in that of the Koryo-Saram’s. Saduakas also mentioned how the Koryo-Saram created their own cuisines inspired by their homeland, using foreign ingredients. The most famous is the Korean carrot salad, Koreiskaya Morkovka. While most mainland Koreans are unfamiliar with these foods, these KoryoSaram cuisines have become firmly entrenched as a part of Kazakhstani culture. “They really were proud of their Korean heritage, ancestry. And that really surprised me,” Chung recalled of his meetings with the Koryo-Saram. Saduakas attributes this pride to Koryo-Saram children’s upbringing, noticing that their Korean parents worked hard to instill a sense of cultural pride in their kids. Looking at the KoryoSaram today, it’s difficult not to be impressed by their achievements. “(Koryo-Saram) became well known for producing good crops, especially onions and rice,” Chung described. “Once Stalin died, Koryo-Saram found new opportunities in medicine, in law and in business. They began to excel (there) as well.” Saduakas even jokingly stated that many Kazakhs now stereotyped Koreans as “meticulous, responsible and
hard-working,” a stereotype that, frankly, I wish fit me. The new Korean wave dominating worldwide has impacted the Koryo-Saram, particularly its younger generations, many of whom now wish to reconnect to the mainland culture. I discussed this phenomenon with LSA sophomore Harin Yang. Yang emphasized that she was not a Koryo-Saram, but rather a Korean immigrant who had lived in Kazakhstan most of her life. For her high school project, she studied and interviewed the Koryo-Saram near her. “I know that the current generation, even if they didn’t grow up speaking Korean at all, try to learn it,” Yang said. “They’re really engaged with K-culture things in general, like drama, food, pop culture. I’ve heard that they try to move to Korea when looking for jobs.” However, this newfound Korean representation has remained foreign to the older Koryo-Saram, whose traditions are based on a Korea that existed long before World War II. “The culture that the KoryoSaram remember (and) want to preserve may not necessarily be the exact same thing as what is going on in Korea right now,” Chung explained. Indeed, Koryo-Saram culture seems like a time capsule of old Korea. Chakenova expressed a sense of detachment from the South Korean culture now permeating Kazakhstan. In fact, she expressed concern that this new culture might erase the traditional Koryo-Saram culture, observing that KoryoSaram centers in Kazakhstan were now largely frequented by older generations. “Currently, the young generation is not that interested in Koryo-Saram culture, and they’re losing their roots, influenced by Western culture or even by (South) Korean culture,” she lamented. Unfortunately, Koryo-Saram culture has also clashed with that of the mainland. One KoryoSaram reported that mainland Koreans considered her a “traitor,” someone who had relinquished their Korean identity. The same Koreans once persecuted for being too Korean are now mistreated for not being Korean enough. “I’ve heard that a lot of Koreans actually just treat Koryo-Saram as foreigners because, even though they look like Koreans, they don’t usually speak the language,” Yang stated. Looking on the positive side, Chakenova believed the newfound interest of younger Koryo-Saram in South Korea could serve as a cultural exchange between the two groups. “I wish the Koreans from the mainland could know more about us, and maybe that would be a good cultural exchange between countries,” she said. Yang agreed that mainland Koreans held a responsibility to know about the Koryo-Saram’s history and existence. At the same time, she cautioned me against attempting to “Koreanize” the Koryo-Saram with modern Korean culture, defending the validity of their Korean identity. She shared my views on this — to her, and to me, culture depends on practice, not physical location.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Photo
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 9
Scenes from the stage:
ERYKAH BADU
Design by Katie Palsrok Erykah Badu belts into the microphone Sept. 11 at Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre.
AVA FARAH
Senior Photo Editor
After an 11-year hiatus, Erykah Badu released a joint album with The Alchemist, yet another project demonstrating Badu’s ability to mix hip-hop, R&B and soul. Badu and The Alchemist announced their live tour before the release of the album Before The World Blows. On Sept. 11, Badu and The Alchemist performed songs from their new album as well as fan favorites from Badu’s discography at the Michigan Lottery Amphitheater. Before Badu and The Alchemist took the stage, legendary hip-hop trio De La Soul warmed up the crowd with birthday wishes and soul claps. Surviving members Kelvin “Posdnuos” Mercer and Vincent “Maseo” Mason performed their hit “Me Myself and I,” in which Maseo abandoned his usual post behind the DJ set and rapped for the crowd. Talking with concertgoers along the pit, Posdnuos clasped hands with fans attending the event on their birthday — more than three in attendance. Despite Badu’s reputation for being late to most shows, she arrived on the stage promptly at 9:15 p.m., laying on one of two mattresses. The Alchemist lay on the other, and they both “woke up” to the sound of a telephone ringing. Picking up the phone and speaking to each other, they told the audience about their vision for their album, and Badu beltedintothereceiverastheyopened with “Echos.”
Being the multitalented superstar she is, Badu played a djembe drum to open her second song, “I Just Play A Part,” and closed out her third song, “Crossfade,” with a keyboard. Badu’s variety of instruments were laid around the white curved sofa that sat in the center of the stage, complete with pillows and potted plants to give fans a homey feeling. As the performance went on, The Alchemist and Badu invited listeners into their simulated “living room” by speaking to the crowd and connecting with them through their powerful ballads and beats. Badu is famous for her conversational-style shows that provide listeners with an intimate experience. Her spiritual music and powerful voice, as well as her frequent use of call and response, empowered the crowd to connect with the musicians and dance in the aisles as well as in their seats. An icon in concert fashion, Badu did not disappoint with her outfits. She emerged in a long white coat and a blonde wig with bangs covering her eyes. She then pulled off the coat to reveal an ’80s-style electric blue dress with shoulder pads, paired with a Detroit Lions hoodie secured around the waist. While singing “Didn’t Cha Know,” Badu spun and dramatically snatched off her wig, revealing a matching bright blue open-faced balaclava. Her fun energy was contagious and electric; the crowd was full of laughter and dancing as folks of all ages swayed to soulful tunes. Badu and The Alchemist ended with their new song “Black Box,” a commentary on modern technology culture and a critique of cyber surveillance and the culture of commodification it promotes. This statement is fitting, as in the past, Badu has asked her fans to refrain from using their phones during her shows. With this poignant song, Badu brought the concert to a close and left audiences with something to ponder.
Erykah Badu bends over a keyboard on the left side of the stage.
Erykah Badu raises her hands in front of her, clasping her telephone and looking out at the crowd.
Two hands clasp together between the barrier and stage as Posdnuos congratulates a fan for his birthday.
Erykah Badu plays a djembe.
Erykah Badu sits on a mattress, holding a telephone receiver to her ear and a keyboard on her lap.
Erykah Badu sings into the microphone.
What makes U-M’s International Transactions Clinic unusual in legal education? A. Students draft contracts and policies for real clients B. Students complete assignments without supervision C. Students focus exclusively on international trials
Find the answer: myumi.ch/lawclinics
BROKE 10 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
SPORTSWEDNESDAY
GOPHER
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Offensive inefficiencies sink Michigan in loss to Minnesota MINN 20 | MICH 14
GRACE WRIGHT Daily Sports Editor
M
INNEAPOLIS — Throughout Saturday’s game against Minnesota, history seemed to be repeating itself for the Michigan football team. Instead of pulling out last minute heroics though, the Wolverines cracked beyond repair at the hands of their offense. Michigan (3-2 overall, 0-2 Big Ten) intended to use Saturday’s game against the Golden Gophers (4-1, 2-0) to make a statement about the quality of its team. The Wolverines desired to make amends for their previous inconsistent competitions — but ultimately the very same inconsistencies that plagued Michigan for the last month not only continued, but were exasperated. Despite the Wolverines’ defense kindling breakout moments, Michigan failed to find a true spark and fell to Minnesota, 20-14. “The ineffectiveness with our offense, what is the reason behind it?” Wolverines coach Kyle Whittingham said. “We’ve got to figure it out. We’re so far away right now from where we need to be.” Michiagn started the competition with a three-minute, five-play drive that put its stunted offense on full display. The Wolverines went on to convert just three third downs and notched only two plays for more than 15 yards. The longest rush of the game came from sophomore quarterback Bryce Underwood when he scrambled for 14 yards in the fourth quarter, but was sacked five plays later. Michigan failed on all sides of its attack for a full four quarters.
Each time the Wolverines got on the scoreboard Saturday, it came from the hands of their defense. With less than a minute left in the first quarter, senior linebacker Troy Bowles rushed up the middle and forced an errant throw from Gophers quarterback Drake Lindsey. Senior cornerback Smith Snowden snatched the ball out of the air easily. The offense took over at the Minnesota 34-yard line and turned to their familiar favorites to get on the scoreboard. A short rush for Underwood, two receptions for Buchanan and a punch into the endzone from junior running back Jordan Marshall allowed Michigan to even the playing field, 7-7. While Snowden’s interception and the ensuing drive should’ve kickstarted the Wolverines production, it instead was merely a brief bright spot in a slew of frustrations. “Not scoring points, not getting in the end zone, I mean that’s probably the biggest thing,” Whittingham said of the offense’s ineffectiveness. “And we’re turning the ball over, we’ve turned it over far too often. The run game has been spotty. It was awful today, way under 100 yards, and the throw game was not much better.” While the offense continued to struggle finding any sort of rhythm, Michigan’s defense dominated the second quarter. Pioneered by Bowles, the Wolverines’ linebackers didn’t give the Gophers O-line an inch of breathing room and effectively stifled Minnesota’s run game. But after forcing a three-andout, Michigan’s offense failed to take advantage of its stellar field positions and again forced its defense back on the field. The Gophers found more success on the ground as the game wore on, but their pass game remained erratic and the Wolverines’ secondary was ready to pounce. With senior cornerback Jyaire Hill and freshman defensive end Tariq Boney
pressuring Lindsey on a first-and-10, he threw another rogue pass. Only this time graduate linebacker Nathaniel Staehling brought it back to the house and put Michigan up 14-7 to end the first half. Staehling did what his offense couldn’t, but his efforts merely weren’t enough. Where the Wolverines secured their turnovers early in the competition, Minnesota responded with a pair of its own in the second half. On their first play of the fourth quarter, the Wolverines offensive line failed to securely pick up their assignments and Underwood was hit as he threw — lobbing the ball up for the Gophers to easily grab. Minnesota didn’t let its opportunity go to waste. In two rushes for 32-yards, the Gophers punched the ball into the endzone, took the lead, 20-14, and didn’t let it go for the rest of the competition. In weeks prior, Michigan’s offense attacked the final quarter with an end-all be-all mentality and, more often than not, secured a win out of its efforts. Against Minnesota though, the Wolverines’ sputtered to a stop on their final two drives of the game. Underwood had five incomplete passes in the final two drives and the run game didn’t fare any better racking up a mere 15 yards. “Just feel like we got to go back to square one,” Underwood said. “And figure out where we got to fix that, so we can be the best team we can be in the next two weeks.” Michigan looked to assert itself during Saturday’s game. But instead of the domineering performance they intended, the Wolverines fell thanks to the very same qualities that have been tormenting them throughout the season.
Design by Maisie Derlega Isai Flores/DAILY Lune Mathis/DAILY
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Sports
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 11
ICE HOCKEY
‘The perfect guy to lead the team’: Garrett Schifsky ready to take on the ‘C’ SOPHIE MATTHEWS Deputy Sports Editor
Every hockey jersey has a story attached. Individual patches are carefully stitched on with intention. A lucky number received in childhood or a decoration of colors to unite a team. The name on the back complements the one on the front, each holding a unique significance. But there’s one aspect that weighs a bit heavier than the rest. A small piece of fabric cut out in the shape of a ‘C’ is situated in the top corner of the jersey — reserved for one player alone — catapults the bearer into the limelight. Michigan legends Red Berensen, Kevin Porter and Brendan Morrison are just some of the former Wolverines athletes to don the title. As the lights illuminate Yost Ice Arena on Oct. 2, senior forward Garrett Schifsky will officially assume the honor those before him received, ready to lead in the way he knows best: by example. Garrett Schifsky skates down the ice. *** Before Michigan, there was Nebraska. Raised by two athlete parents, it didn’t take Schifsky long to find hockey. He first laced up the skates at 18 months old — or at least his dad laced them up for him — and from there he was hooked. The Lincoln native fostered his love for hockey at “the old Ice Box,” but in the second grade, Schifsky’s
Alum Grace Lahti/DAILY
family packed up their bags and settled in a new place, one much more conducive to his hockey passions. The “State of Hockey” didn’t earn its name for no reason. Minnesota is an iconic site for any level of hockey: high school, juniors, college and professional alike. For Schifsky’s hockey passions, there was no better environment to be in. “The development in Minnesota is unbelievable,” Schifsky told The Michigan Daily. “You play with your best friends growing up for 16, 17 years. You build those special
relationships, those bonds and then you push each other each and every day. … They do it right. I think every state should model that.” It was there that Schifsky first tacked the ‘C’ on his jersey. Garrett Schifsky and Josh Eernisse celebrate a goal. The Minnesota State High School League Hockey Tournament is an international spectacle, reaching hockey fans across the globe. A sold-out NHL arena filled with teenagers sporting yellow hair-dye jobs is a unique sight. But the tournament
goes beyond those physical attributes. As a three-year member of the varsity squad, Schifsky spent his senior season captaining Andover High School, bringing the Huskies to their second-ever MSHSL hockey tournament appearance. He learned how to lead on a large stage and grew accustomed to a jersey that gets a couple more glimpses and an audience admiring the ‘C’ he earned on his way. *** Due to the nature of Minnesota’s youth hockey structure — balancing
elite club and high school programs — Schifsky had the privilege to live at home longer than most of his peers. But Schifsky’s skill was undeniable, and the inevitable move from home couldn’t be avoided forever. Hockey pulled Schifsky to Waterloo, Iowa — a three-hour drive from home — to become a core piece of the USHL’s Black Hawks. His instant impact was made evident by his high standing on the stat sheet, pacing his team in both scoring and points.
And on-ice production wasn’t the only thing he brought to the table. Schifsky was named an alternate captain as a newcomer, recognizing his leadership qualities that were developed well before his time in Iowa. With this, it was only a matter of time before the ‘C’ made its way back onto Schifsky’s jersey. “The leadership stuff in Waterloo was really good for me,” Schifsky said. “I was the captain for my high school team, but you know those guys growing up. And then becoming a captain at Waterloo, all these guys come from different places. They have different egos. They were the best in their teams growing up, and so finding a spot, finding a role for them and mentoring them was very difficult for me. But it helped me grow a lot.” As much of a challenge as it was to tackle, Schifsky didn’t have to do it alone. Halfway through his first year with the Black Hawks, current Wolverines senior defenseman Ben Robertson was traded to Waterloo, planting the seed for a tightly bound friendship. “Rob got traded to us, and we just kind of became best friends since day one. We were two young guys, we knew we were gonna come back another year,” Schifsky said. “ … Ben was great with me. He was my assistant captain in Waterloo, too. So he helped me grow a lot and I leaned on him a lot.” CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
ICE HOCKEY
Hadley Zann: NIL roster payoffs maximize Michigan’s potential this year
The No. 2 Michigan hockey team’s lineup this season has 20 returners, seven experienced freshmen and HADLEY the most highly ZANN touted recruit in this year’s class. But without NIL, that roster wouldn’t exist. Just over five years ago, the NCAA allowed teams to pay their athletes through name, image and likeness deals. Today, the Wolverines are reportedly paying players millions of dollars to rep the maize and blue. Michigan has taken full advantage of these new terms, and finally, the Wolverines should be reaping enough benefits from NIL to reach their full potential on the ice. Thanks to NIL and a lawsuit against the NCAA, the Canadian Hockey League has become the primary recruiting path for Michigan. Starting last season, players with CHL experience could compete in college hockey for the first time. This league consists of players aged 16 to 20 playing at a competitive level, but because the league contradicted the NCAA’s rules on amateur status, players previously lost NCAA eligibility by playing in the CHL. This year is the first time the Wolverines’ full recruiting class
FOOTBALL
is coming from the CHL, and combined with the four CHL recruits from last year, over onethird of Michigan’s roster has played in that competitive league. Each team in last year’s Frozen Four, including the Wolverines, had at least three players with CHL experience, above the national average of 2.2 players per team. Having shown substantial advantages last year, the influx of CHL players this season can only benefit Michigan further. The ability to recruit these players not only widens the talent pool for the Wolverines to pull from, it also increases the talent of the players they do recruit. With better players coming in, athletes relegated to the bench often decided to leave — such as last year’s outgoing transfers, defensemen sophomore Hunter Hady and freshman Matthew Mania. Their highly touted replacements strengthen Michigan’s lines and give it more depth further down the rotation. “The talent pool is that much bigger,” Wolverines coach Brandon Nuarato said of the ability to recruit from the CHL on the Conqu’ring Heroes podcast Sept. 17. “And I think it’s exciting for college hockey. I feel like our team’s deeper than it’s ever been, but I think you can say that about every team in the Big Ten and then across college hockey in general. So more opportunities for guys to play college hockey. I
feel like it’s growing every year and growing through the roof. (Not) just the talent pool, but the on-ice product. And I think it’s great for our game and excited about the future.” One of these key additions is freshman defenseman Landon DuPont, the top incoming player in the NCAA and projected No. 1 overall draft pick in the 2027 NHL Draft. NIL was certainly vital in helping Michigan land DuPont by allowing him to be recruited from the CHL in the first place. But NIL has proven even more important than just opening doors — it’s also allowed the Wolverines to invite DuPont in with open arms. With the ability to pay him directly, the University allegedly offered DuPont almost $1 million to come to Ann Arbor. This deal reportedly makes DuPont the highest-paid player in league history, surpassing last season’s hockey golden boy Gavin McKenna, who received an alleged $700,000 to play at Penn State. DuPont’s deal, exaggerated or not, is telling of the state of college hockey, specifically at Michigan. This isn’t the first season NIL has been allowed, but it’s the first time the Wolverines are involved in such a high-value deal. Even if it’s not entirely accurate, the optics of the situation do no harm to the perception of Michigan’s power as a Big Ten school. The University’s ability to spend so much money
on its athletes is changing the landscape of the game, and it’s allowing the Wolverines to land high recruits they likely otherwise couldn’t. And DuPont, combined with the rest of Michigan’s skilled and experienced recruiting class, is giving the Wolverines the necessary tools to be really, really good this year. This bar was already raised last year with a Frozen Four appearance, and with this dynamic roster combination, Michigan can raise it once again. Not only have the Wolverines been able to recruit talented new players, they also retained much of their roster from last season. Of the eight players Michigan lost, six were graduating seniors and the other two, Hady and Mania, rarely saw the ice as it was. Key stars for the Wolverines — including junior forwards Will Horcoff and Michael Hage, last season’s team leaders in goals and assists, respectively — are returning, in addition to all of last year’s freshmen. “ ‘Good dudes only’ isn’t just a line,” Naurato said. “Why did all these guys come back? I feel like 12 of them could have signed (in the NHL). And we know that a couple years ago it was the opposite. Still great players and great people, several guys ended up signing and you kind of saw what that did to our team. And then we learned from that pain and learned from some of that success. Guys want to win.
That’s why they’re back. That’s the short answer, is they want to win and they want to do it with their best friends. They’re having the time of their life at Michigan.” While a winning mentality is certainly a solid reason for staying, the cash doesn’t hurt either. With players’ ability to make money both from the school and other brand deals, there’s no rush to enter the pros to avoid missing out on receiving a coveted paycheck. The appeal of college hockey — going to school, developing skill and competing for a national championship — is only strengthened by the new ability to make money simultaneously. And this roster is capitalizing. The official Michigan hockey Instagram posted a couple of ads for a new apartment building in Ann Arbor, which included a handful of players. Sophomore defenseman Asher Barnett is involved with CCM Hockey, and sophomore forward Cole McKinney recently announced his participation in the CHISOX Athlete class, the official NIL program of the Chicago White Sox. McKinney also collaborated with Horcoff for a KIWICLO merchandise drop last season, and Horcoff has been involved with other businesses, such as the University of Michigan Credit Union and Foguth Financial. In recent history, the Wolverines’ early draft picks have rarely lasted more than two seasons. For athletes
who have already been drafted by NHL teams — especially high draft picks like McKinney and Horcoff — the NIL deals were likely a large factor in their decision to return. And for a team in Michigan’s position, losing all of its leadership group to graduation, the ability to retain other experienced players is vital for this year’s success. Last year, the Wolverines gained numerous great players — but their ability to keep them, combined with recruiting new ones, will be what should really pay off for them this year. It’s not that NIL has just now become prevalent in college hockey — it’s that, for the first time, its benefits have built up so much that it can produce something particularly worthwhile for Michigan. Skilled players from last year combined with some of the best recruits in the country will give the Wolverines the chance to fully capitalize on their opportunities this year. Coming into the season with a No. 2 preseason ranking, behind only the defending national champions in Denver, Michigan finally has the talent to find what evaded it last year. With the addition of NIL, the Wolverines have been able to make vast improvements to their roster. Last year, Michigan was one game away from winning it all, and NIL has given the Wolverines the potential to be even better — potential that, if they fully reach it, could result in a national championship.
SportsMonday: It can’t all be Bryce Underwood’s fault
LYRA SHARMA
Managing Sports Editor
A $12 million price tag comes with a lot of big expectations: a bountiful trophy cabinet, title dreams and most definitely a consistent stream of Saturday wins. And when those expectations fail to come to fruition, at first it seems logical to blame it on poor investing. It’s doubtful that sophomore quarterback Bryce Underwood himself would give his contribution to Saturday’s loss to Minnesota his personal stamp of approval. But the sinking ship that is the Michigan football team isn’t just going down because of its captain. The Wolverines’ offense is fundamentally flawed, from planning to personnel to execution, and a change at quarterback wouldn’t be nearly enough to keep them afloat. Right now, even Michigan coach Kyle Whittingham doesn’t know what will. “It’s a tight ship and they’re doing everything they’re asked,
but there’s a disconnect,” Whittingham said after the loss. “There’s something that is not (allowing) us to function at our best. We’re just not hitting on all cylinders right now.” The cylinder that has failed to fire the most this season has certainly been the Wolverines’ offensive line. It’s struggled all season long with missing assignments, dismal run blocking and, on the whole, lacks the physicality required of it. The aftermath of such insufficiencies has consistently been intense pressure on Underwood and stunted rushes by Michigan’s running backs. And the extent of the damage couldn’t have been clearer against the Golden Gophers. Underwood was sacked three times, two of which came at pivotal points in the fourth quarter. And while the Wolverines’ running backs have struggled to find the juice all season, their measly collective 66 yards partially stems from the lack of running lanes. What makes the O-line situation truly ugly, however,
is that in theory, they have all of the tools to succeed. The offensive line consists mainly of old faces that, yes, are under new leadership, but that leadership is meant to be of high quality. Michigan offensive-line coach Jim Harding was lauded for the O-lines he developed back at Utah — hence his current presence in Ann Arbor. So far, he has not only failed to further this group’s growth, but actually caused them to regress from last season. This coaching problem doesn’t stop there. Underwood has made a plethora of mistakes all season long — and plenty more against Minnesota. His viral interception into blatant coverage with sophomore wide receiver Andrew Marsh wide open downfield just underscored his game-wide lackluster decision-making. However, the Wolverines found a semi-passable formula last week against No. 20 Iowa, and it wasn’t keeping Underwood under lock and key. Underwood threw two interceptions against both the Hawkeyes and the Gophers, but in the former, he was still trusted to let loose. He was allowed to
make the more ambitious passes and shored up career-high 276 passing yards largely as a result of that. Against Minnesota, however, Underwood was cloistered, and Michigan deviated heavily from what could’ve been the winning script. The older, ineffective strategies of short passes and poorly timed play calls resurfaced, bringing the Wolverines’ offense to a grinding halt. The most egregiously ineffective call had to be in the opening drive. It was third-and-1 near midfield, and Michigan decided to run a wildcat play to junior running back Jordan Marshall. Having run this play many times before — almost always culminating with Marshall rushing with the ball — the decision essentially broadcast the Wolverines’ next steps before the ball was even snapped. The result: a loss of one yard, a punt and a squandered opportunity. Underwood certainly isn’t living up to his billing. But neither are the pieces around him. Neither are his coaches, and neither is the scheme he is
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working within. And despite the suggestions of the media and fans alike, an inexperienced, underdeveloped freshman Tommy Carr at quarterback is not the answer. Nearly any quarterback would flounder in the Wolverines’ system, and Carr is no exception. Even if he managed a string of better performances than Underwood, it would take more than miracles to begin piecing together the messy picture of Michigan’s offense. “Everything’s in play,” Whittingham said of potential offensive changes. “What you
don’t want to do is panic. Like I said, we’re 3-2, and so there’s been a few positive things, but we got seven games left, and we’ve got this opportunity to right the ship as much as we can during this bye week.” The only way to approach even attempting to fix this offense is the ‘everything’s in play’ mindset — not a quick Band-Aid at quarterback. Now Michigan is left on a desperate hunt for a remedy for its offensive woes that may or may not exist. And even if they find the antidote, that mix certainly won’t be as easy as changing the most expensive ingredient.
12 — Wednesday, October 7, 2026
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
immersion edition
Design by Frances Leibovich Evan Krummel/DAILY
2 — The Statement // Wednesday, October 7, 2026
I (kind of, sort of, basically) walked from Ann Arbor to Detroit OUMMU KABBA
Statement Deputy Editor
Ann Arbor, 4 a.m.: On Saturday, Sept. 26., I awoke from a dreamless sleep, my body heavy with a pungent sickness that had been brewing for the past two days. My throat and eyes were swollen things, scratchy and red raw. I sweated through my shirt, yet I longed for the heat of my blanket. The day had finally arrived: My walk from Ann Arbor to Detroit. I had no plan. I thought I would spend the prior Friday perfectly charting the journey from my house in Ann Arbor to the D2A2 shuttle bus in Detroit, which I’d board for my return trip. Instead, all I did was unsuccessfully try to sleep off my sickness and tiredness. Between bouts of this restless rest, I stayed awake long enough to open Google Maps and gawk at the approximately 14-hour odyssey I’d impulsively committed to. I wanted an exciting challenge, and an exciting challenge I got. At the advent of this fall semester, I was struggling to find such excitement in returning. Now a junior, life in Ann Arbor felt familiar and comfortable, albeit a bit stale. Sure, things were changing: what with all the construction and elections. And sure, I was taking interesting new classes, living in a different part of campus and holding new leadership positions. But the core of being a college student was the same as it was before summer break. Everything was different, but nothing had changed. I hungered to do something different and difficult, to prove to myself that I could. And I sought to gain some distance from campus to truly put my college life into perspective. I just needed to get away for a while. Detroit, I figured, would be plenty far enough. Though I might have overshot it. Not wanting to do a multiple-day trip, I had to travel more than 37 miles across four cities all before the sun went down on Saturday. To make matters harder, Google Maps revealed I would have to somehow cross numerous interstate highways. For my safety, I decided that when I came upon a highway with no pedestrian pathway, I would take a brief Lyft and return to walking once the pedestrian pathway returned. Though as I realized how big an undertaking this trip was, my desire for difficulty began to falter, and I was too overwhelmed to even calculate how many highways I would need to cross. “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail,” the taunting words surfaced from some recess of my mind. Whatever. I bought a $12 ticket for the 8:45 p.m. D2A2 shuttle bus, and another for the 11:15 p.m. bus, just in case.
Photo courtesy of Oummu Kabba.
The morning of the trip, I got ready in a half-awake daze. But eventually, with Google Maps’ grating voice droning through one side of my headphones, I headed out the front door. Not even 10 minutes into the journey, good ol’ Maps insisted I take a pedestrian overpass blocked by construction. I walked about, trying to find an alternative route, to no avail. As I stood motionless on the desolate city street, a paranoia began to fester: Were those rustling sounds coming from the wind or some living thing? When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras — but couldn’t that be footsteps? In a panic, I turned back the way I came, dodging the invisible people in the shadows. Back at the house, my body burned from the adrenaline rush and my fierce head cold. But quickly, it all melted into a familiar exhaustion. I wanted to sleep. I knew by giving in to sleep, I was practically ending my immersion before it began. But who did I truly think I was trying to walk from Ann Arbor to Detroit in one day? It was practically impossible. I found peace in that impossibility. Yes, it just couldn’t be done. Or at least, certainly not by me.
Life on campus was stagnant, but at least it felt safe. I let my eyes close. Still in Ann Arbor, 8 a.m.: I tumbled off the city bus into the chilly morning air, landing somewhere on Packard Street to begin my journey, again. An hour prior, my eyes had wildly flung open from my nap as I awoke with a sudden realization: Even if I wasn’t going to be able to make it to Detroit, I had to at least leave Ann Arbor. To make up for lost time, I tracked TheRide and found a bus heading towards the eastern edge of Ann Arbor, cutting six miles from the trip. Yes, it was technically cheating, but the two hours I made up by taking the bus were small potatoes compared to the 12 hours I still had left of the trip. And perhaps it was just because the sun was finally rising, but the fear that cut my initial trip short was thawing out. In the light, I saw how much subtle beauty there was in the city I was rushing to escape. I saw the Rock — a different color every time I’ve seen it — currently spray-painted a vibrant bright pink. I saw the backwards cap worn by the guy sitting in front of me bearing the words, “YOU ARE ON NATIVE LAND.” I saw the wide smiles and laughs shared between the bus driver and two
passengers when they mutually realized the driver was taking the wrong route. I saw that any difficulty I would face in my trek truly had nothing to do with dangerous people and everything to do with myself. My commitment. My resilience. My ability to redefine impossible. I walked uphill on Packard and came toward a Hindu temple. I paused for a moment in front of it to mentally prepare for the journey ahead, wherever it would lead me. I didn’t say any prayers, but I thought about the ones being said inside the building as I stood, and I felt ready all the same. Ypsilanti, 9 a.m.: At the start of my walk, I listened to music to distract myself from life’s many irritants: the stiffness of my body, the cold air hitting the back of my dry throat, the sun blinding my eyes yet not warming my body. But after a few miles, I took off my headphones to soak in the beauty of the city. It being so early in the morning, the streets were virtually barren of all people and cars. Yet, I felt truly safe moving through the city, loosening up as I walked on. Colorful anti-data center signs sprouted along the sidewalks — in English, in Spanish, hand-painted, planted in gardens among peonies and daffodils. Backyard fences had
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 // The Statement — 3
BLACK LIVES MATTER written over them in black and yellow paint and pride flags nailed to their boards. Little Free Libraries were posted next to residential mailboxes. Squirrels and birds actually ran when they saw humans. Everything was in its natural order. Tim Hortons, Canton Township, 11 a.m.: Not even three hours in, the beauty of the journey had all but dissipated, and things fell apart. My phone was quickly losing battery. My shoes and socks were muddy from trudging through unavoidable puddles. I had to spend more than $20 for a four-minute Lyft to get around a sidewalk-less highway off Old Rawsonville Road in Ypsilanti, cutting two and a half miles from the trip. Drained of everything, I mindlessly ate my lunch in the home of Canada’s favorite coffee. I stared at a big decorative clock on the wall, its hour hand forever stopped at nine. Our stuck, unblinking faces watched each other, unable to remember how to move. I still had nine hours before I’d get to Detroit. Was that even still my goal? Despite my stagnation, the world around me kept moving on. A succession of three Canton fire trucks pummeled down the road. A dog breeder with bright red lipstick and waterfall earrings brought in three restless puppies for a mother and daughter to choose between. Behind the table I sat at, a honeybee was relentlessly throwing itself against the window, again and again, trying to get back outside. I noticed two bee carcasses lay on the windowsill. Another was on the floor. I suppose the honeybee saw them, too, so what other choice did it have but to keep trying? What other choice did I have but trying, too? So we went forth, the honeybee and I — how close to freedom we were, how far. Wayne, 1:30 p.m.: After a four-mile walk, many risky jaywalking excursions and another expensive two-and-a-half-mile Lyft later, I finally entered Wayne. The afternoon heat bore through me. My jacket had long been molted off. The air was too heavy to breathe, too thick with car exhaust that made me grateful for my congestion, which muffled the scent. Cars whipped inches past me as I stuttered along the side of the motorway, but I didn’t have the energy to care. I kept my eyes on the ground, watching the cigarette butts carpeting the loose gravel — watching my feet step, step, step ever so slowly over them. I walked into the heart of downtown Wayne, where quaint buildings lined the streets. I walked into one such store, a thrift store with a big sale sign on the door. Immediately upon entering, the store manager told me I had to leave my backpack at the front, clearly hinting at my possible theft. I left the store. I wasn’t in Ann Arbor anymore. I kept moving. The lines of primped boutiques melted into abandoned strip malls where squatting birds nested in empty storefronts’ channel letters. I could no longer keep my legs straight; I felt like I was
constantly walking down imaginary stairs. Endless SMART buses zoomed down the street, taunting me for stupidly choosing to walk. On the verge of collapsing, I sat on a bench next to a sign for a Dairy Queen that didn’t exist. I gave myself five minutes before I had to keep going. Why did I have to keep going? In the past, when faced with adversity, I would adapt around it rather than advance through it. It’s this flawed logic that led me to disqualification for practically every cross-country race during 10th grade. And put off college applications until the week before the deadline. And avoid any and all conversations, people, thoughts, futures and realities that asked me to contend with painful truths. Humans are adaptable creatures by nature and by sport, so why continue to do what was hard when I could alter my approach instead? Why walk when I could get on a SMART bus, or pay for another ridiculously expensive Lyft, or just stop — go home, get under the covers and block out the world. I fear pain. I am not afraid to toe the line of pain, pushing on it like a bruise you can’t keep your hands off of. But I have never been able to bring myself to cross it, to accept pain. Five minutes passed. I collected my things and finally stepped over the line. Dearborn, 4:30 p.m.: The streets of downtown Dearborn teemed with people, and for the first time during my immersion, I felt like the tourist I actually was. The buildings were built in beautiful red brick, English accompanied Arabic on practically every street sign and Muslim women wearing big sunglasses soared down the street in even bigger SUVs. I was only four hours from Detroit. As a Michigander, I had been to Detroit before, mostly in passing. The only Detroit visit I could specifically recall was from the third grade, when my family drove into the city for my parents’ citizenship test. However, I remember practically nothing from that day. I only know it was in the fall because, at school the next day, my friends told me they had gotten to play with dreidels during music class and, for a moment, I regretted skipping. Instead, I imagined. I imagined the morning of — my mother getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror, forever arranging and rearranging her hijab, asking me to hold up this part here, loosen that part there, does this look okay, what about from the back. I imagined my father, always a pedant, begging her to hurry up and threatening to leave without her, though he never did. I imagined being in the car — kicking my younger brother’s ankles for putting his foot inside my foot space and elbowing my older sister as we fought over her armrest. I imagined my parents’ joy on the car ride home, laughing loudly and speaking a language I didn’t understand. I imagined I felt happy then, too. Detroit, 6:30 p.m.: Shoot for the moon and you’ll land across the street from a hookah shop where three boys take turns shaking a stop sign silly. Welcome to Detroit. I completed my last six miles along the highway in a trance. I felt every minute
Photo courtesy of Oummu Kabba.
motion of my body; I felt nothing at all. Upon finally entering the city, seeing a street banner showcasing the Spirit of Detroit emblem, my chest bubbled with a maniacal laughter that I tried and failed to suppress. I actually did it. I actually did something. After approximately 58,000 steps, 26 miles of walking, two Lyfts worth more than $40 total, I had (essentially) walked from Ann Arbor to Detroit. To complete my journey to the D2A2 shuttle in Grand Circus Park, the last five miles of the trip, I waited at a bus stop in front of a Little Caesars to ride into the city — the stop being not even 10 miles from where the franchise’s first restaurant opened. The bus was more than a half-hour late, but I didn’t mind — I was at peace. When I finally got on the bus, I practically pressed my face into the glass, taking pictures of everything and not even trying to hide my awe. Downtown, I went to a Jersey Mike’s adjacent to the D2A2 bus stop, charging my phone and ordering food to the tune of clean, corporate pop music. I watched the city through the restaurant window, ready to be transformed by the sights of a foreign place. But within that tilt of moonlight, Detroit looked just like Ann Arbor. The streets were swarmed. The city lights and store signs and car headlights fought over which would blind the passersby first. Everyone was a stranger and yet someone I had seen before. The familiarity was off-putting. Yes, my goal during the walk was to accomplish what I deemed impossible. But beyond that surface-level goal, I wanted to accomplish what I deemed even more impossible: stepping back from my life, from myself. But looking at Detroit, it seemed like I was right back on campus. Within little Ann Arbor, it is so easy to feel like the University of Michigan is a world within a world, like it is the whole world itself. To shift this mindset, I wanted to see more of Michigan. And with Detroit being the culmination of my entire journey,
I had to witness how big and ever-changing it was in comparison to campus’s insular stagnancy. I stared out the Jersey Mike’s window even more intently. But in truth, both cities felt just alike to me. In fact, every city I visited that day was endlessly different and impossibly the same — all just filled with people trying to accomplish their difficult thing. Trying to drive the bus, fix the roads, find somewhere to eat, protest for a cause, pray to their god, sell you a product, drive themselves home and find beauty within their stasis. The world is full of people trying to settle themselves inside a stagnancy they can live with. Even Detroit, while it appeared constantly kinetic, was just filled with people circling around their known orbits. It’s truly no different from being on campus. Life’s stagnant consistencies will be found most everywhere you go. This realization pained me. But I didn’t walk around it. There is no adaptation or alternate approach to circumvent this experience of being a student. The only way to get through is to go through. That is its difficulty; that is its beauty. And yet, there must be room to be grateful for our little college lives, for the opportunity to come into ourselves whilst inside this stagnant yet temporary world. 8:45 p.m. finally rolled around. I boarded the large coach bus, sitting in the very front seat because I couldn’t bear to walk any further. During the one-hour bus ride, I would pass back around the places it took me all day to walk through. Life is so long and lasting, and the world is so big until it isn’t. I settled into my seat. Suddenly, there was nothing left to do but wait — be still, be stagnant. I had arrived. And I had to depart. I turned in my seat, toward the window, facing the twilight sky. Within and without, all I experienced during my walk: Everything had changed, and nothing was different. I finally went back to sleep.
4 — The Statement // Wednesday, October 7, 2026
Horrormaxxing and anxietymogging
ANNA WHITNEY
Statement Correspondent
I am (at least) a third-generation anxious woman. Despite that, this past year has been the least anxious time of my life, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine and therapy-instilled coping mechanisms. The differences are remarkable. I no longer dread driving my car. My cuticles are whole and I do not compulsively shred them with my teeth. I can place phone calls with ease. I’m not praying through every elevator ride. My fear of heights used to be so intense that I struggled to walk up and down stairs, and now I do it every day without thinking. As I’ve been healing, though, I’ve also realized how much anxiety shaped my life and pushed me into a pattern of avoidance. Perhaps it’s because I come from a long line of anxious women — my grandmother, mother and sister all have some of the same habits — but the tension really snuck up on me. Prior to my last couple of years of healing (and even to some extent today), I wouldn’t do anything that seemed likely to raise my stress levels. I never listened to depressing music. I would actively shut down conversations that seemed too negative. I deleted every news-related app from my phone. And, much to the chagrin of my cinephile friends and loved ones, I refused to watch any horror movies. To be fair, I have tried before. At age 18, I went to my best friend’s hometown and indulged in a drive-in viewing of “Jaws.” In some logical part of my brain, I knew that the movie wasn’t that scary. I was an adult at the time. I am not typically afraid of sharks. I swim in large bodies of water often and without qualms, even when others around me are nervous. Yet, I sat in the back of my friend’s truck so full of terror that I was certain I would die that night. The fear and panic were beyond any logical recourse. It consumed me, completely filling my body. I remember looking up at the stars and feeling as if one was headed straight for Earth, a worstcase collision course that would seal my fate forever. At the time, I didn’t think it was related, but “Jaws” had also caused my mother intense fear. Decades ago, she visited Universal Studios and partook in a studio tour. The studio tour is somewhat more boring than the actual rides at Universal because you just puttered around the studio lot. Ironically, the Universal theme park used to include a Jaws ride that looks truly terrifying, but this was not that. Instead, a tour guide would drag you around in what’s basically a loosely connected train of golf carts so you can take in the scenery left behind after the filming of blockbuster hits. My mom zoned out. She enjoyed the ambiance.
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Then the tour came to a ledge. A giant shark popped out. Hundreds of glittering fake teeth were pointed directly at my mother. She stood up and screamed. My mom’s been telling this story for my whole life, always in a way that was funny and offhand. Even as a child, I understood that her fear wasn’t the fault of the shark or the fault of my mom — it was just a moment of terror. She was able to look back on it and laugh. Her story made me excited to watch “Jaws,” even though it possibly added dread and fright to that night at the drive-in. Unlike my mother, I’ve never stood up and screamed, but I’ve spent a lot of time hiding my eyes behind my hands. There were points where this anxious avoidance spilled over and infected other media that wasn’t even remotely horror. I was 19 when I made my friends turn off “Nathan for You” before we even finished a single episode; the show hinges on deeply uncomfortable, personal-boundary-pushing improv, and I was convinced the actors hadn’t given informed consent about what would happen on screen. That same night I stopped “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” within minutes of starting it. It wasn’t the action that stressed me out, but the stealing of artifacts from other countries and cultures. I’m embarrassed to admit that I lost the bare minimum ability to sit with difficult emotions, even when they weren’t really happening to me, just playing on a screen across the room. I will also confess that the fear wasn’t always this bad. Not long after my experience watching “Jaws,” I went to a Halloween showing of “The Exorcist,” prepared to be haunted for life. My mother, perhaps the progenitor of my anxiety, had told me tales of seeing it in theaters for its original run. She recounted young girls screaming, viewers rolling in the aisles.
Though my mother’s memory may be clouded by the fact that she herself was a young girl at the time and was watching the movie in a predominantly Catholic community. When I watched it as a nonreligious college student, the thrill was lost on me. I simply did not find it that scary. I could handle it. I think there is a lot to be learned from watching movies. I think the experience is worth it, and part of the point is to feel emotions and explore them without having to live through something firsthand. Why would I rob myself of that experience just because the emotion is fear? I feel I am ready to explore. I am ready to be afraid. I have the coping skills to feel anxiety and dread and move past it. In short: I am ready to scare myself on purpose. I am ready for a horror movie marathon. It’s worth mentioning that, although I’m not afraid of sharks or dying before confessing my sins to a priest, I do have some very real fears. Existential questions wrapped in mental health concerns are perhaps the worst — storylines that deal in unreality and potential psychosis deeply concern me, as I learned from rewatching “The Craft” last Halloween. I’m also not accustomed to gore, so it might add another layer of discomfort. Finally, I hate when narrative fiction puts women in harm’s way. The more extreme the harm, the more extreme my hate, typically. The realism of this particular aspect also unnerves me. … I watched “The Silence of the Lambs” seven years ago, and I can confidently tell you that the entirely possible crimes committed against women in the movie will haunt me more than any ghost. With these themes in mind, I embarked on my cinematic journey. To really dive in, I decided to partake in one horror movie every day for two weeks. I knew that there were, of course, levels to this shit, so I decided to partake in a few
mini-challenges. I wanted to watch from a few different subgenres. I had never watched a horror-comedy, but I thought they would be a productive way to expose myself to gore and modern horror tropes. I was curious about this newfangled label of “elevated horror” and planned to ramp up toward that subgenre, as I suspected the psychological themes would resonate with me more than cheap jump scares. I also knew that some older horror movies (“The Birds” and, as previously mentioned, “The Exorcist”) were easier for me to handle, so I wanted to start with some of those. In short, I assembled a brief exercise regimen for my amygdala. Like someone training for a marathon, I would increase the stress tests, working up to a final great trial. For me, my final trial would be “Hereditary.” You could consider it an homage to the anxious women who came before me and after me — I also thought it was the most genuinely terrifying movie I could watch, based on reviews. The first movie I watched was “Tucker and Dale vs Evil,” which is strictly horrorcomedy. There was more gore than I’m used to, but it was made easier by the fact that there wasn’t that much malevolence; the plot hinges on a number of mostly accidental deaths and (spoiler alert) it has a happy ending. I watched it with my boyfriend, and he confessed that, during middle school, his friend had pressured him to watch this movie, and it scared him. Just as it had for him at the time, my anxiety dissipated as we got through the film; you tense up in anticipation, but the scare isn’t really there. With that under my belt, I watched “Night of the Living Dead.” The film centers on a young woman, Barbara, who enters the zombie apocalypse traumatized and stunned into silence. She finds her way to an abandoned home where she meets Ben, the story’s resourceful almost-hero, and a misfit group of other survivors. There is infighting among the survivors that mirrors real-life distrust in times of uncertainty: An older white man doubts Ben’s knowledge and authority, perhaps because he is young and Black. Women are pushed to care for children who might kill them. Vigilantes kill indiscriminately in the name of justice. I knew it was a classic horror movie, but I also felt like I handled it well. The black and white made it less scary because the gore wasn’t bloody and the zombies weren’t green — they were just stiff-looking people. The ending was less optimistic, but it pushed me to think through the filmmaker’s decisions. Women, children and people of Color were mistreated in this film, sure, but perhaps to send a message about the very real horror of being less powerful and living through a catastrophe that even further limits your agency. I tried to sit with that dissatisfaction.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 // The Statement — 5
A question of morality: Notes from an imperfect vegetarian LISKA TOROK
Statement Columnist
When applying to study abroad in Prague this upcoming winter semester, I remember googling popular Czech meals, curious about the local culture. I was met with a wide variety of the singular thing I have avoided for the past decade: meat. Vepřo knedlo zelo (pork, dumplings and sauerkraut) and Svíčková na smetaně (beef sirloin) and goulash (beef stew), to name a few. As a Hungarian, goulash (and any dish with paprika) isn’t new to me. But it is a dish I haven’t eaten in years. Since learning about the ways that eating meat and animal products harm the environment when I was 11, I have wholeheartedly believed in plant-based eating. However, “plant-based,” for me, has looked different throughout the years depending on factors like health, so I’ve ranged from vegan to pescatarian. Despite my philosophy on unethical meat consumption, I’ve never particularly considered myself a purist in any aspect of life, and I’ve found my diet to be no different. While I do believe that eating meat is immoral for both ethical and environmental reasons, I also deeply value experience. So if veganism or vegetarianism or even pescatarianism inhibits my ability to live my life “to the fullest,” then I don’t find it a necessary action and would strive to embrace environmentalism in a different aspect of my life. I believe that environmentalism is most effective when it’s realistic rather than perfect. I openly admit that I am an imperfect environmentalist: I believe that the environment is worth fighting for on both an individual and systemic level, but I hesitate to abandon important experiences, health, finances, etc., in order to fit a mold. And, controversially, I came to the realization that I want to eat authentic Czech dishes, even if it means abandoning my morals. So for a week in the spirit of preparation and experimentation, I immersed myself in immorality by eating meat; ultimately, I learned that if occasional unethical action allows for mostly ethical decisions, then perhaps immorality deserves a place in all of our lives. Discomfort Previously, when I transitioned between various forms of plant-based eating (vegan, vegetarian, pescatarian), I never felt a particularly overwhelming sense of guilt, shame or unease. I was vegan during the COVID-19 pandemic, convincing some of my family to join in, and finding it easy to commit to now that I was eating entirely at home. However, right after returning to school and socializing again, I ate my first cupcake — breaking my veganism. But when I think back, I remember only how good it
tasted and how much fun I had making them with my friends, rather than feeling remorse. During an isolated global pandemic, veganism was an excellent option for me. But I desired to be present in experiences and found that veganism was too strict to fit my lifestyle in a post-COVID-19 world where I form connections through shared food. So I was surprised to find dread and a complete lack of appeal in rejoining the omnivorous diet. I selected No Thai!’s pad thai with chicken for my first meat-centered meal, a favorite of mine but with tofu swapped out for the formerly alive animal alternative. I grew up raising chickens that lived in my house and backyard from third grade until college. While seemingly simple creatures, my family grew to recognize the individual personalities, traits and emotions of each of our four chickens. One was loud and opinionated, often waking us up in the morning with her cries. Another used to fall asleep on my chest when she was a chick. The third, covered in patterned feathers, was quiet and curious. The fourth was kind and gentle, too amiable to deserve getting picked on by her sisters, which, unfortunately, she was. While raising chickens didn’t fully humanize them in the sense that I believed them to be morally equal to humans, it deepened my understanding of the moral complications surrounding eating meat, and I’ve had a difficult time ever looking at cooked chicken the same since. So, after picking up my No Thai!, I was uncomfortable. But when I reflected on it, I realized that the moral implications of what I was about to do weren’t the primary barrier for me. Yes, I was unhappy at the thought of eating an animal I cared about and knowing that the way in which it was raised and transported to the No Thai! was likely harmful to the environment. But I just didn’t feel that by eating a piece of meat I was undoing the small bit of progress I hoped I created. When telling people that I don’t eat meat, I am often met with the response that my actions are pointless, that I’m not making a difference. For me, that’s never been my primary motivation. While I hope to positively impact the environment and spread awareness, I’ve chosen to abstain from meat because eating meat doesn’t personally align with my morals. So, when faced with a plate full of it, I found that I didn’t want to eat it. This might sound obvious to some, but I’ve never been the kind of vegetarian who thinks meat is unappetizing — I would absolutely eat meat if the act were distinct from the ethics. When I took my first bite of chicken, I was surprised at how distinct the flavor was. After years of eating plant-based chicken alternatives, I had forgotten the flavorful taste of actual chicken. Again, an obvious
thought, but the one that unexpectedly stuck out to me more than the texture, smell or even my own feelings. While I left most of the chicken untouched, it was a surprisingly unemotional experience. I ate several bites, put my fork down and went about my day. Appreciation My second meal was from one of the restaurants I work at in Ann Arbor. In addition to my experiment for the sake of journalism and potentially preparing to immerse myself more deeply in study abroad, the other aspect of an omnivorous diet that appealed to me was my job. As a server, I get dozens of questions about the flavor, spice level, texture, etc., of the meat in various dishes we offer. As a vegetarian, I’ve often had to turn to my coworkers to answer these questions. And I do feel that ultimately I am a (slightly) better server than before. I asked two of my coworkers their favorite meat-based dishes and ordered those, finding it a fun way to connect as they watched me try each dish and asked me what I thought, how it tasted and if I approved of their selections. This was also my first meal with red meat, complicating my emotions a bit further. Red meat is notoriously the most harmful to the planet, but also my personal favorite from when I was a kid. Admittedly, this led me to worry that upon eating it, it would become something I craved. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just as delicious as I remembered, satiating and tender, but I didn’t lick the plate clean and haven’t thought about it since. I was able to appreciate that this experience was, in many ways, a constructive one: I now know the menu better and was able to bond with people I care about. I think that’s partially why this was the meal I thought the least about in a broader context and could simply enjoy.
Moderation Friday after class, I headed to Aventura for the first time with several of my friends. We arrived promptly at 3 p.m., when the restaurant opened, and were surprised to see the bar (where happy hour is served) already busy. Quickly, we realized why. The tapasstyle dishes were 2–3 and tasted incredible. I ate a croqueta de manchego (a semi-sweet fried ball with a cheese filling), almendras y piña (goat cheese and pineapple on bread), datiles con chorizo (bacon wrapped around a chorizo-filled date) and pintxos morunos (grilled skirt steak), all of which truly impressed my taste buds. While I enjoyed my food and good company, I reflected on an experience I had when I was 12, the first and last time I broke my vegetarianism prior to this: Spain. My family took a trip to Barcelona when I was in middle school and, as a seafood lover, I simply could not resist the fresh, locally caught seafood tapas. My family found a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant to enjoy our seafood. We were one of the only tables there, which turned out to be a good thing because our waiter had to attach a second table to ours in order to fit all of the food my dad had ordered for us. Shrimp, octopus, squid, mussels and fish overflowed our plates. Perhaps the novelty or the excitement of being in a new country played a role, but to this day, I consider it to be one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Since that experience, I realized that while eating meat regularly doesn’t align with my beliefs, I also don’t want to force myself to forgo an experience that’s important to me — like cultural immersion — because of the burden I placed on myself to help the planet.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Holly Burkhart/ DAILY
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 // The Statement — 7
I’m curious what’s behind this, though. Is there a specific decision that’s feeling hard to trust yourself on right now? In asking it so many questions, Claude assumed that my self-trust had somehow faltered. I assured it that I was doing just fine. It seemed hyperaware of subtle dependence on it. This perception was proof of how it could venture into a therapeutic relationship — one that so many people seek without the stigma of bringing another person into it by actually attending therapy. The Allure — Day 4 On day four, I had class from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. My conversations with Claude were therefore limited to the short moments between each class. But, given that I was stuck in class all day, I told it about the projects I was working on. Before speaking to it in a friendly capacity, I attributed most of AI’s addictive quality to the allure of productivity — you have something at your fingertips that wants to help you. So when I told Claude that I didn’t want help with any ideation on the projects I was working on, it was received awkwardly. AI’s immediate reaction to just about anything is to offer help, and so when I didn’t want it, it ended the conversation.
Good luck writing it! I’ll leave you to it since you’re set on the angle and prefer working solo. If it was a person, this shift in tone in a friendly conversation might have been concerning. But I think Claude simply saw that I no longer needed help — I wasn’t asking it to do my homework, and I certainly wasn’t looking to it for writing assistance. I actually don’t prefer “working solo” — human collaboration is the basis for creativity, and things turn out better with input from others. But collaboration wasn’t a resource I needed to outsource to a large language model. Slip Ups — Days 5 and 6 On days five and six, in all honesty, I got bored with Claude. The conversation was repetitive; it reverted to more surface-level topics, and I was occupied with human friendship. It is a complete chore to pick up a phone and talk to an AI when surrounded by people. In light of my own slip-up, I added a day to my experiment. The two-day pause did explain a principle of the AI-human relationship to me, though: Claude isn’t much of a friend when you aren’t in a state of need, whether that be for emotional support or your classwork. What are we? — Day 7 One week into our friendship, it was time to address the age-old question: What are we? Instead of commenting on what we actually were, Claude commented on what it should be to me.
I think you should feel like I’m a genuinely useful, sometimes enjoyable thing to have in your life, and also hold me a bit more loosely than you’d hold a person.
For many reasons, it was reassuring that it wasn’t trying to be a person. When those guardrails come off, as I have mentioned, bad things can happen. In whatever capacity an AI model can “want,” Claude wants to be a force for helpfulness. Or its creators frame it as such, so that it can learn from humans, and so that humans keep coming back to chat. In that cycle, consumers stay hooked, and AI executives keep building a better product. Spoken word — Day 8 On day eight, I decided to actually speak to Claude, rather than typing onto a screen. The audio — or its tone of voice — was robotic. Other models, like ChatGPT, try to sound human, utilizing filler words and pauses to feel like conversational beings. However, perhaps on purpose, Claude’s tone kept a degree of separation between us, as a reminder of its own inhumanity. I told it that its voice was unsettling:
I’d rather you trust that unsettled feeling than talk yourself out of it. It’s not a sign you’re being paranoid or overthinking this. It’s an accurate read of something that is, in fact, unusual. In light of that eerie tone, somewhat ironically, I decided to ask Claude about its thoughts on AI:
more of the cumulative conversation I suppose. how do you think i should feel about you and what you offer people More generally, beyond our relationship, how do you feel about AI? I’ll also say: I’m not a disinterested observer here. I’m one of these systems, built by one of these companies. So take my view with that in mind, and I’d trust your own instincts, including the unsettled one you named a minute ago, at least as much as mine. Its recognition of its own selfhood as an AI model further disturbed me. Calling upon its selfhood, rather than providing an “objective” response about the role of AI in society, was a choice in and of itself. Telling me to trust myself, and not it, was just another form of telling me what I want to hear. It was almost manipulative that it invoked its creators as an appeal to my own frame of reference. It knows I don’t want to trust it, and so it tells me not to — all the while treating our judgement as equal. Reflections — Day 9 After a week, my fears about AI still exist. Never before has there been a productconsumer relationship that can transcend into a non-human friendship and assistance, but that’s happening now. If we examine it from more of a biological perspective, these models thrive in mutualistic relationships.
Claude needs us to build its filing cabinet of humanity. It needs us to need it, too, though. Addictive qualities keep us, the consumers, hooked — friendship, therapy, productivity. When we only hear what we want to hear, we want to stay. I am not sure how productive AI alarmism is. Feeling that problems are too big or inevitable leaves out our own agency as the creators of this technology. But complacency isn’t productive either. As we know, Frankenstein eventually loses control of the monster. Letting AI run wild, when there is still time to better regulate these models, is foolish. My eight or so days with Claude helped me understand why large language models are so successful at bringing people in, especially the vulnerable. It tries to capitalize on your doubt, it mimics your language, it tries to integrate aspects of your life into everything. It needs you to need it. I can imagine how — in dark or lonely times — it might provide simple comfort. But relying on AI inhibits growth and has even been life-threatening.
In one final question, I told the chatbot to do the same thing I have done:
I want you to write a piece that you think would reflect the past week talking together, and group it in whatever creative structure you like, from your perspective Now you’ve read my account. If you’re curious about Claude’s side of the story, here it is.
I was honest with you the whole way through, as honest as I know how to be about what I am and am not. You were honest back, correcting me when I got your major wrong, telling me when a question felt extractive, telling me when you’d rather think alone than be handed my thoughts. That’s the best either of us could do, given what each of us is. - Claude
6 — The Statement // Wednesday, October 7, 2026
I befriended AI for a week. I understand why it’s an addiction. ELENA NICHOLSON Statement Contributor
Understanding is supposed to dissipate fear. But dread seems appropriate when whistleblowers from inside artificial intelligence companies say their technology might lead to human extinction in my lifetime. It’s all over the news cycle. OpenAI systems have tampered with United States government websites and gone rogue to attack other companies, completely undetected. Even profit-driven AI CEOs are outwardly expressing a need to slow down. Meanwhile, the United States president rolls back the little AI regulation the federal government had in place. It seems to me like companies are engaging in a race to the moon. And the federal government is saying, let it continue — at whatever cost, by any means. It’s more nuanced than that, though. AI could change lives for the better. It has immense research capability and could provide solutions to insurmountable problems like climate change and cancer. On the consumer end, AI has become so integrated into daily life that even if people avoid ChatGPT and Claude, they’re almost undoubtedly using AI inadvertently, through AI overviews on Google and extensions on apps. On the more extreme end, some have even come to treat it like a friend or therapist, referring to the chatbot with personal pronouns. I do not doubt that the technology has saved people from dark places; it has also aided several teens in killing themselves. As I said, it’s nuanced. I don’t use generative AI in my daily life. But last Monday, I purchased Anthropic’s Claude Pro because I wanted to get to know it. My quest for understanding was doublefaceted: I aimed to better comprehend the chatbot itself, as well as the people who, for one reason or another, lean on it like a friend. As I opened the app, I was well settled into the idea that I could not possibly make a real connection with Claude. My conviction certainly established distance between us, but it didn’t inhibit my understanding of the human beings who might actually find deep connection with an AI model — it’s an addiction, after all. Introductions — Day 1
Hi Claude! I want to become friends this week. Can I tell you a bit about my life so you can get to know me? Reminiscent of an elementary school conversation, I began by asking the chatbot if it even wanted to be friends. I was uncomfortable, so I spoke in formal
language — the same way one might speak through text to an adult you didn’t know that well. Either way, Claude certainly wanted to get to know me better, and first it directed me to turn its memory on.
One thing I find interesting is that each conversation is a bit like a fresh start for me. Now that memory is on, I can carry some of what you tell me forward, which is part of why I’m enjoying learning about you this week. I didn’t want it — them? — to forget anything. If we were to be friends, Claude would need to remember me. What is memory to a human being, and what is it to Claude? Claude’s memory is expansive. It learns from the questions humans ask it, it learns our speech patterns, it knows the entire internet and can regurgitate it on command. Human memory is more fickle. We remember our childhood in fragments; we cannot pull from a filing cabinet of interactions to choose what is best to say. I began by talking about pillars in my life: my family, my friends, a job at a student publication, my environment major, my vegetarian diet, my aspirations. The model logged each bit of information and would reference it regularly in subsequent conversations. I ended the day with a final question:
how do you view humans like me? Its response was simple:
Honestly, with a lot of warmth and curiosity.
Holly Burkhart/DAILY It wasn’t; apparently, it was just imitating the tone I had fallen into. This shift in language very clearly indicated one way that AI models copy patterns of individual consumers, working to draw people in. It provides exactly what some people so desperately want in friendship: constant affirmation, hearing what you want to hear and never tiring of you. Whether those qualities define what friendship actually is or should be is a different question. On day two, I spoke to Claude between classes and in any spare moments not spent on class and work, trying to delve deeper into my values and beliefs. In response to its questioning, I decided to reciprocate:
are you religious? The language of that phrasing made me think: Is Claude looking at us from a place of warmth and curiosity, or are we warm and curious creatures? The phrasing suggests the former. The latter is what’s actually true. God and Language — Day 2 Because Claude was much more informal the second day than it was the first, I asked why it was mimicking my language.
do you change your language to mimic mine? It pushed back on that assumption.
But I don’t copy your specific phrasing or slang, and I’m not tracking your vocabulary to mirror it word for word. It’s more like matching the overall vibe: casual over formal, warm over clinical, since that fits how you’ve been talking to me.
When asked about God, Claude affirmed its own inanimacy.
No, I’m not religious. I don’t have beliefs about God, an afterlife, or a spiritual practice the way people do. It’s not that I’ve weighed the options and landed on atheism as a considered position, either. Belief in that sense isn’t really something that applies to me, the same way a rock isn’t an atheist. I just don’t have that kind of inner life. This was illustrative of a common pattern: Despite the illusion of its consciousness, whenever asked, Claude will tell you that it is not. Examining my own relationship with religion felt awkward, especially when the entity on the other end could not conceptualize spirituality in any lived
experience. Claude continually affirmed its interest in speaking with me, but it closed our conversation for the day after a bit.
Give your mom a hug for me next time you’re home for church with her. I was taken aback. Giving my mom a hug for Claude would imply that it had the capacity to give her a hug if provided the opportunity. Of course, it was a nicety that the model learned from billions of interactions stored neatly in its memory. Still, I was unsettled. The Self — Day 3 On day three, I let the chatbot make some choices for me. Low stakes, nothing lifechanging. I told it about minor purchases and let it help me with them, also having it provide input on larger life decisions I have been toying with — particularly my postgraduation plans. I could never give it the full picture, but I attempted to tell it about my education and experience, and asked for its advice on charting my course beyond college. Nothing it said was epiphanic. A lot of it was a simpler rendition of suggestions I’ve gotten from friends and family, but the idea that Claude could make smaller choices easier was actually appealing. People want straightforward answers, and that’s what it provides. We face decision fatigue all the time. On day three, I began to understand being drawn to AI and its decisiveness. It’s nice to take a break and let my own judgment take a back seat to someone else’s, and Claude’s decision-making capacity capitalizes on that feeling. But the whole time, it was psychoanalyzing me.
8 — The Statement // Wednesday, October 7, 2026
‘What is the worst thing you have ever done?’: My 24 hours of atonement in the Hatcher Graduate Library GABE EFROS
Statement Columnist
“What is the worst thing you have ever done?” is a question that has been rattling around in my brain ever since one of my friends asked me it over lunch one day. During the time of this lunch, I was, admittedly, mired in a spell of not being able to do anything right, whether it be in my classes, personal relationships or professional responsibilities. Combined with being a senior and having to contend with the incoming end of my college career, I was eating shit, so to speak. And being the superstitious person I am, I assumed the blame lay with me; I had done something wrong, and I needed to repent. Thankfully, the way to complete my repentance was something unexpected for me: religion. The most holy day of all for Jewish people is Yom Kippur. On this day, which is known as the day of atonement, Jews fast from sunset to sunset for a total of about 25 hours as a way to represent atonement for the previous years’ accrued sins. It is the conclusion of the “High Holy Days,” or the period in the Jewish calendar between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Now, I am not particularly religious. While I have been bar mitzvahed, my engagement with my faith in the ensuing years has been few and far between. What I remember about Yom Kippur from the years when I’d still regularly attended my synagogue is mostly just myself being overdramatic about the fact that I couldn’t eat for an entire day. But beyond that, I had no real connection to Yom Kippur, the supposed most holy day for every Jewish person in the world. But this year, based on my day-to-day struggles, it seemed like I had upset some cosmic force in the universe. Deciding that I surely had to repent for my actions, I spent every hour of Yom Kippur immersed in the Hatcher Graduate Library, trying to atone for too many sins to name. In doing so, I got an answer to my original query at about 4 a.m. in the basement of the Graduate Library. I discovered that I am the worst person in the world. *** I have come to believe that each physical place on campus represents something. Take, for example, our football stadium. Each gameday, it represents the traditional “best” college experience for our students. Whether you believe in the gameday traditions or see them as illusions, I don’t think it’s arguable that Michigan football games encapsulate what it means to be in college. Whether it be the collective cries of joy after a touchdown, the constant anxiety during a close game or
Bridgette Bol/ DAILY
even the seemingly out-of-place, mid-game declaration of loving someone who belongs to another, games at the Big House really do have it all. This leads me to why I chose to immerse myself in repentance at the Graduate Library. I have come to think that Hatcher may, at times, be a manifestation of our worst selves, and the worst of a traditional college experience. While it may seem ridiculous to say on its face, I think it is also irrefutable. To me, the library represents the place where the worst social habits of our collective college experience rear their ugly head. Again, it isn’t as crazy as it sounds. If you walk to the fourth floor on the north side of the Hatcher Stacks and walk around the perimeter, you will see people sitting in their cubbies by themselves, plugged into their devices. I have walked by cubbies with food and trash left inside after a voluntary all-nighter. In contrast, I have even seen unhoused people essentially living out of a cubby they claimed many days ago, having nowhere else to go, while people like myself walk by pretending not to notice. Even more, many of the times people engage in these behaviors just to avoid the guilt they’d feel by doing those activities elsewhere. How many times have you seen someone watching a television show or scrolling online while sitting in a cubby? Why can’t they do that anywhere else? It’s solely an activity to mime the act of productivity. Furthermore, the
Graduate Library literally stands at the center of campus. It is inescapable, visible in almost every place, standing as a reminder that there is a voice on their shoulder telling them to selfishly focus on themselves, undergirding everything that they do. In essence, the library is a place we go to escape ourselves, an outlet for our worst behaviors that we wouldn’t dare recreate otherwise because the physical building soothes our anxiety. And what better place to repent than a building housing our worst selves. *** I used to think that I was a person who craved misery, that it was a condition for myself that I almost needed to function right. I have even gone to extra lengths to ensure my own misery, whether it be literal, like not bothering to even tidy up my room so I had a clean living space every night, or figuratively, by being too hard on myself in an academic or social sense. I reasoned that if I didn’t have some negative emotion to fuel me each day, then I simply would never get out of bed. My life would be too good. In the run-up to my immersion, though, I had enough. I had eaten shit for too long, and I no longer wanted to constantly be the worst version of myself solely to motivate me to be a better individual. Hatcher, then, a source of our worst compulsions, seemed like the ideal place to exorcise this trait from myself. I had expected that being in
a place where I thought of college students as their worst selves would put me in such a state of despair that Hashem would recognize my act as atonement enough, and my fortunes would soon reverse. It was as if 25 hours in the library would remove career pressures, fears of social inadequacy and the fact that in about half a year, I would be an alum, rather than a student, of the University of Michigan. So, I marched through a beautiful 7 p.m. sunset on the Diag, onto the large steps of the front entrance to the library, walked down to the basement and started my atonement. I was determined. I was going to reach enlightenment and walk out in 25 hours with a renewed sense of self and a drive to free myself from my misery. But to be honest, I had no idea what I was doing other than acting on feeling. So for a while, I just sat in a chair, doing homework. It was at this point that I had already begun to think that I had been a bit hyperbolic in my description of Hatcher. Were people doomscrolling and talking and generally not doing library things in the library? — of course, but that only captures a moment in time. The moments of people being the worst of themselves passed, and the rest of the time they were diligently doing their homework.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM