DIRECTOR OF SOCIAL MEDIA AND MARKETING | Jazmyne Aquino
DIRECTOR OF WRITING | David Sosa
DIRECTOR OF COPY | Sammie Yen
DIRECTOR OF DESIGN | Carlee Nixon
DIRECTOR OF MULTIMEDIA | Katherine Harry
WRITING
Kendall Bradwell
India Brown
Maddy Brown
Halle Hunt
Ola Lasek
McKenna McCallister
Marina Parker
Olivia Smith
PHOTOGRAPHY
Lyric Campbell
Lily Citron
Ani Karajayan
Maryam Rahimie
Fin Liu
DESIGN
Kathryn Aurelio
Colleen Gu
Jaimie Liao
Anushka Rane
Lauren Lu
MULTIMEDIA
Claire Ernandes
Keilani Kozen
Mika Panahon
Evan Rodrigues
Sruthi Singamsetty
Chiu Yen Vergara
FUNDRAISING + PR
Ashleigh Azarraga
Karen Di
Ashley Lin
Rachel Okwudiafor Johnson
TALENT + CREW
Victoria Amankwah
Anya-Kathryn Barrus
Rachel Barrus
Victor Bault-Sprecher
Elize Dizon
Aaron Eichenlaub
Luc Eldridge
Jazmine Joseph
Elinam Kudiador
McKenna McCallister
Myles McKenzie
Kristian Morales
Lohit Nambiar
Nicole Nelson
Elisa Nelson
Thomazin Rose Jury
Rebecca Sung
Austin Tovar
Sam Walker
Mia Zhang
TABLE OF CONTENTS
4-5 | Letter from the Editors + Creative Director
6-19 | Swan Song
Kendall Bradwell
In a battle of doubts, who comes out on top?
20-29 | Roommate Roulette
McKenna McCallister
“Going random” makes us relinquish control.
30-43 | The Sun From Both Sides
India Brown
A personal narrative on navigating love.
46-53 | Stringing Through the Years
David Sosa
Music is the ultimate memory trigger.
54-63 | Running With Scissors
Halle Hunt
Three distinct poems, an inescapable loop.
64-77 | The Red Thread Experiment
Sammie Yen
Is USC just one big circle? Let’s find out.
78-79 | Shot By SCene
You made your mark on SCene.
80-89 | The Umbilical Cord of Fate
Maddy Brown
Exploring a bond unlike any other. Twins.
90-103 | “Growing Pains”
Olivia Smith
A sitcom screenplay on the story of our lives.
104-113 | The Business of Passion
Marina Parker
Where do we fall on the spectrum of certainty?
114-125 | How I Gaslight Myself That Everything Happens for a Reason
Aleksandra Lasek
Read the title again.
126-127 | Behind the SCenes
An exclusive look at the creative process.
When I was a child, I’d sketch onto fabric and attempt to guide threads along my faint pencil lines. I liked to fancy myself an embroidery artist. I was bold enough to even call those pieces embroidery. More often than not, I’d skip a knot or tug too hard, and the whole thing would begin to unravel. For a long time, I believed life worked like that too. I thought that connection was something you had to stitch together by force. I quickly learned those are the threads that are quickest to unravel.
My girlfriend and I were born on the same day, in the same year, just one hour apart. Despite being born in hospitals just six-hours away from each other, we wouldn’t meet until we were both on the other side of the country attending college. She is one of my biggest inspirations for this issue and everything I do.
Before I was accepted to USC, I found myself captivated by SCene Magazine’s social media presence. I dreamed of being a part of the publication. During my very first week on campus, I met a girl named Julia Zara. She just so happened to be the Editor-in-Chief of SCene. A year later, I was honored with the opportunity to step into the very role she once held.
During my first year at USC, I’d regularly make the trek from Parkside to Birnkrant to visit a friend. Out of all seven floors, my friend lived just two doors down from Olivia Hau. I went from knowing Olivia in passing smiles to working right alongside her, piecing together the stories of connection that would shape Issue No. 7.
If I followed the connections in my life like a thread, they’d stretch across the world—and I wouldn’t even have to pull.
Thank you to Solana and Olivia for all the laughs despite the pressure.
“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may be tightened or tangled, but it will never been broken.”
Times are always changing: changes in leadership, relationships, addresses, goals and self. The most turbulent of those changes has to be in college, maybe even this spring. For me, being selected for this new position also brings the closing chapter to my junior year. It’s entirely unfathomable that time can pass by us so indifferently, the way we can feel its wind but without the decency to tell us when it’s going by.
How do we begin to make sense of it? Well, I started with this proverb. In my interpretation, we can all find a connection regardless of our present moment. A romantic notion, but not necessarily in practice. A colleague at work, your best friend from home, maybe someone you haven’t even met yet. That connection, the same as the unspoken glances between friends, is seemingly intangible yet holds worlds of meaning.
Thank you to an incredibly dedicated staff, E-board and C-Suite for bringing this issue to life. Your patience and support are all I could ask for in our first round of making this. Thank you to Julia, I hope this issue reminds you of what you made possible.
SCene may be our red thread, but I feel it expands further than this. A spiderweb ties together the fabric of our lives, of our time as students, kids, friends, professionals, seemingly contradicting but wholly overlapping.
So when times are uncertain, feel cemented in trusting the invisible threads that ground you.
Tightened, tangled, but never broken.
I vividly remember a January night when I was heading home after a long day of classes and club meetings. Just hours earlier, the SCene team had cast their votes, settling on the theme for our seventh issue: Our Red Thread. The phrase was poetic, almost haunting, yet as I replayed it in my mind, I struggled to grasp its full meaning. What exactly connected us all? What invisible thread wove through our stories? I knew something was there, just beyond my understanding, waiting to be decoded.
Shortly after the meeting, I made my way up to the fourth floor of my apartment building for a “debrief night” with some new friends—people I had met once or twice in passing but had never shared more than a few words with.
That night, seated on my new friend’s carpeted floor surrounded by a random selection of people, a web of connections between us unraveled in ways I never expected.
It went something like this (disclaimer: this is not a historically accurate account):
I had a class with Person A. Person A had dated Person B, who was roommates with Person C. Person D had hooked up with Person A, who happened to be best friends with Person E. Meanwhile, my friend, Person F, had beef with Person A because they had a crush on Person B. Oh, and Person F was dating my neighbor, Person E.
Confused? So was I. My head was spinning. How was it possible that all these people—most of whom I had never met before—were somehow linked to me?
At a school of over 40,000 students, how does everyone seem to be so connected? And how was it that, just hours after discussing this very phenomenon in our SCene meeting, I found myself witnessing it firsthand?
Oddly enough, I find comfort in this. Whether it’s because we’re all chronically online, endlessly scrolling through social media, or because we are still experiencing the lingering social disconnect from years of isolation during the pandemic, it seems as if our generation is lacking in relationships. Yet, as this night proved, we are more intertwined than we realize.
The same goes for you. Think about the people in your life—the friends you’ve made, the ones you’ve lost, the strangers who somehow know your name. How many of them are connected in ways you never expected? How often do you meet someone new, only to realize they already exist in your orbit? The red threads that tie us together are everywhere, even in the most unexpected places.
And so, in Issue No. 7, we invite you to explore these invisible connections—romantic or platonic, professional or personal, positive or negative, old or new. Like our team masterfully portrayed in the following pages, our relationships, in all their complexity, are what brings us together.
SwanSONG
WRITTEN BY PHOTOGRAPHED BY DESIGNED BY
KENDALL BRADWELL
ANI KARAJAYAN
KAT AURELIO
Ifyou take a stroll across campus right now, there’s a decent chance that you’ll have to watch where you step. Otherwise, you may wind up in the back of someone’s cheery, optimistic, certainlya-core-memory graduation photo. It’s a delicate dance I’ve done every spring since starting at USC: Twirl past the Alumni Park fountain. Sprint past the arches of Mudd Hall. One afternoon, I dodged another photographer’s gaze and ran smack-dab into a large sign: “GRADFEST 2025.” Instead of keeping it pushing like I normally did, this time, I stopped to add it to my calendar.
I regret to report that the “College goes by faster than you think!” lecture is unfortunately true. This time last year, I believed I would remain at USC for an extra semester, having more time to explore and grow. But with my graduation date moved up, there were fewer grains of sand in the hourglass than I’d anticipated. Less time to make memories. Less time to explore academic and personal interests.
More dread.
With the seemingly breakneck pace of senior year, packed with responsibilities, decisions, memories, and regrets, I’ve noticed one thought start to creep up in my mind:
What if I didn’t come to USC at all?
is from San Jose, CA and has written a novel.
Model Lohit Nambiar ‘27
SWAN SONG | Kendall Bradwell
I remember it vividly: It was April 2021, where day-to-day life was still impacted by the pandemic. There was nowhere to go, so there was never a chance to escape the college chat. Envelopes littered my kitchen table, filled with colorful “WELCOME!” or “CONGRATULATIONS!” My parents gifted me a whiteboard, where I wrote every college I was admitted to, their pros and cons, and worst of all — their prices.
This led to a lot of strikethroughs on the board. Too expensive. Doesn’t have my major. Bad fit.
That left me with two choices: USC, a far-off palace I’ve fantasized about since I was fifteen years old, or a shiny, prestigious, suburban school in the Bay. (For the sake of this piece, let’s call it “Not USC”) Since I’m from the East Coast, I didn’t really know much about either place.
I sat on the floor with my dad as he called up his friends from college, asking for their input. “Go to USC,” one friend said. “She’d be crazy not to attend USC,” another said just minutes later. Days passed. Weeks. Suddenly, it was April 25th and I didn’t know how to explain that truthfully, I was in the middle. USC was all I could think about for years, but suddenly, anywhere not USC looked pretty appealing.
This revelation did not go over well.
“USC’s been your dream school forever! Why the change of heart?”
“Living in L.A. would be such a good experience. You’ll just get bored at Not USC.”
Comments like this swirled in my head, and as one could imagine, it didn’t make me any closer to choosing a school. On April 30th, I got tired of the conflict and chose the road with less pushback: I committed to USC.
“Good job,” my mom said as I pressed the button. “Don’t look back.”
Don’t get me wrong: Overall, I’ve enjoyed most of my time in college. USC introduced me to the most creative, intelligent, and impactful human beings. Being at such a social, extroverted school forced me to break out of my shell. The entertainment industry, which made up lots of my childhood memories, was at my fingertips. The world was mine if I wanted it.
But, I’ve also encountered stressors that I could never imagine. I’ve had my heart ripped out, my back stabbed, and my head aching — it’s a wonder that I’m still standing. The classes I thought I wanted to take have not only humbled me — they’ve made me question what I really want to do with my life when those last grains of sand hit the bottom of the hourglass.
And for that, I have been looking back. Sorry, mom.
By choosing USC, Los Angeles has become my home — it’s the only place I know. It’s the one place I’ve spent my adult life, and it’s become the backdrop to the comedy-drama known as my life. The comedic highs and tragic lows resulted in my love-tolerating relationship with the city. In such moments of distress, I become disenchanted with my college experience, and I realize: It’s too late to start over.
Writer Kendall Bradwell ‘25 studies business of cinematic arts.
But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder:
What if I could?
13th grader. 14th grader.
15th grader.
My mind sometimes imagines a life where I did attend Not USC. Since they didn’t have a business of cinematic arts program, I’d likely take up communications. I’d trade in my minidresses and sunglasses for Carhartt jackets and flare jeans, ready to take on the Bay Area weather.
Instead of most of my friends being filmmakers and journalists, my main circle might’ve been climate activists or startup founders. Seeing them pursue their goals could influence me to change my career pursuits: Would I be a political consultant? Work in tech? The possibilities were indeed different, yet endless. With more freedom to change my major and explore different classes, I wonder if my grades at Not USC would be better. Maybe I could have had a good shot at law school and secure my financial freedom, instead of how now, at USC, I’m still struggling to find my direction.
But, my fantasies subside when I realize that version of Kendall wouldn’t know what it’s like to watch the sun melt into the horizon at Santa Monica Pier. She wouldn’t know the melancholy of riding down the highway late at night, watching all of downtown Los Angeles glimmer in the distance. She wouldn’t have had the courage to drop her introversion and exchange it for a sunny, always-social disposition.
Yes, it’s true she wouldn’t know the pain and challenges she’s experienced at USC, but she wouldn’t have the chance to grow and learn from it, either. She would have avoided the troubled romances, but at the same time, wouldn’t experience the one person who swept her off her feet.
Back in 2021, I thought that choosing USC was just me being a goody two shoes. If I chose the path that everyone expected of me, it would lead to the success and happiness that everyone promised would come after college. Sometimes, when I got angry here, I wondered: Did I follow my own dreams, or what other people dreamed for me?
Now, I’m realizing that the answer doesn’t really matter. I’m here now, and it’s up to me to make the most of the time I have left. There are so many choices I’ve yet to make — some I’ll cherish for the rest of my life, and others will no doubt keep me up at night. But each of these choices has formed the woman I am, and the woman I will become. Every dilemma, and every choice, every triumph and every failure happens for a reason. I may not understand now why things worked out the way they have — I may never know — but instead of being paralyzed in the past, it’s up to me to dive headfirst into the future.
Dwelling on my regrets and wondering “what if” won’t get me anywhere. I’ve made my choices, and while it’s led to positive and negative consequences, it’s shaped who I am.
Legend has it that when a swan is about to die, they sing one last poignant, melancholy song. While this is my final semester at the University of Southern California, and my final piece with SCene Magazine, I’m not dead yet. My journey isn’t ending — this is only the beginning.
Written by McKenna McCallister
by
Lyric Campbell
Designed by Lauren Lu
Photographed
“Was this mutual misfortune, or a blessing in disguise?”
As a college student, I think it’s safe to assume we’re all familiar with the idea of random roommate assignments. Likely, we have experienced this process for one reason or another. Perhaps it was because all of your friends decided to live somewhere you couldn’t afford. You don’t know anybody. Or maybe, you don’t want to live with people you already know because you don’t want to risk ruining those friendships over living situation squabbles. There are hundreds of reasons for going random in the roommate department, but they all lead to the same place.
Whether you are groaning at the thought of reliving this situation or smiling fondly, I have a question for you: Have you ever had a roommate that made such a lasting impact on you that you began to believe in fate? Do you think there’s no way the universe didn’t orchestrate your living together for a reason? Well, that’s how I feel about my current roommates. They’ve opened my heart to the possibility of relationships that transcend surface-level. To the idea that an invisible force connects some of us who are destined to meet.
I know you’re dying to know who these amazing people are, so I’ll give you the rundown.
There’s Elize: A 4’9 ball of fire originally from the Philippines who is one of the most empathetic and poetic people I’ve ever met. Rebecca: A go with the flow definition of a cool girl from San José, who makes friends with an ease I could only dream of. Elisa: A girl whose life is straight out of “Gossip Girl”, with the Brooklyn house to Upper East Side private school pipeline, but somehow retains a kind heart, accepting disposition and is unapologetically herself.
Then there’s me, a girl from the suburbs of Los Angeles who they describe as thoughtful and introspective. Elize even added that my hugs are like a calming ocean breeze. I almost cried when she said this.
We’re all from vastly different worlds and have had incredibly different life experiences. So, how do we get along so well? Could we feel a thread bonding us together? Did I need to meet them in order to become who I needed to be?
Model and writer McKenna McCallister ‘28 is a black belt in karate. She studies psychology.
Model Elize Dizon ‘28 studies business of cinematic arts. She has been DM’d by Laufey before.
Three out of the four of us originally applied for housing with other people, but got separated from those groups during the assignment process.
On top of that, the fourth girl that we got assigned with decided she wasn’t even coming to USC anymore. So, we got reassigned to our current fourth roommate, Elisa. My anxiety was already heightened because I was a spring admit, terrified of not finding my people on campus and this tripled my fear. I had never talked to these people before, nor had enough time to sufficiently stalk their social media. The classic what if cycle of questions started instantaneously. What if they think I’m weird? What if we fight a lot? What if they don’t understand my humor?
“I’ve always hated the idea of having a random roommate,” Rebecca said. “One of the main reasons I didn’t want to commit to USC was because I didn’t know anyone going [here] and didn’t know who my roommates were going to be. But of course, everything happens for a reason and it all worked out. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into with this apartment. I didn’t think anywhere near what we have now is what would have happened…[but] I’m really satisfied with the outcome.”
Like Rebecca, I was pleasantly surprised to find that we all fit well together — not just our living habits, but our personalities as well. The minute our parents left us on move-in day, we sat awkwardly in a circle on the floor, exchanging uneasy looks and waiting for someone to break the ice. Finally, Elize asked, “So… does anyone have any trauma they want to share?”
The sheer unexpectedness of Elize’s question had us rolling over in laughter. Those looks of unease quickly turned into glances of comfort, and we actually did start spilling any and all lore, from our relationships with our parents to childhood emotional damage. Our first night together, we were up till two in the morning playing “Cards Against
Humanity,” cackling so hard I had to take a hit of my inhaler.
There was one night, merely a month into the semester, when we stayed up so late talking that we decided we should challenge ourselves to not speak, text, or communicate with each other at all for an entire day. Spoiler alert: We failed miserably. Elisa even kept a list of things she wanted to tell us throughout the day.
These people didn’t mind my witchy laugh or my random references to TikTok sounds. In fact, Rebecca began quoting funny videos like I did, Elize’s laugh morphed into a version influenced by mine and Elisa implemented the goofy way I say “ummm” with my pointer finger raised to the heavens. On a more serious note, they all have characteristics that I admire and truly want to incorporate into my ideal self: Elize’s emotional intelligence, Rebecca’s composure in the face of struggle and Elisa’s unwavering sense of self. I’m in awe of them every day.
Perhaps I’m just grateful that I’m not experiencing a version of the horror stories I’ve heard from friends and online forums. Regardless, we have to learn to live in the uncertainty of life and use whatever happens as an opportunity for personal evaluation and evolution.
This idea of fate and preplanned encounters can be comforting to some, or a source of anxiety for others. Elisa was the only one in my roommate group who actually applied to get housed randomly, so naturally I had to ask her: How were you able to have faith that things would work out with random roommates? Did you tell yourself that whatever happens is “part of God’s plan?”
“My mentality was more like, whatever is for me will be there,” Elisa said. “Whatever God says is going to be there for me, I’m going to do it and I’m just going
“Every experience is a learning experience.”
to believe in that [because] no experience is a bad experience.
She also recalled the circumstances with one of her last random roommates, where they had a few disagreements. But, she’s still grateful to have made those memories because they taught her how to handle conflict better and approach a variety of people who are different from her. She believes she was given what she needed at that time. Her parents had prayed over the apartment space and hoped for all fruitful things to come from there when she moved in, and that’s exactly what she feels had taken place.
Elize, on the
other hand, believes maybe people are fated to come into your life, but you decide what to make out of that relationship, instead of a universal entity making that choice for you.
“I don’t know [if] there is someone laying out all the cards for me,” Elize said. “What gives me peace is knowing that I can choose, to a certain degree, what someone can mean to me and my life…If fate and destiny were to exist, I think what you can control is how you take it all in.”
She isn’t necessarily a skeptic of fate, she just likes the choice of perspective. During the phases of life that she couldn’t control, what kept her grounded was being able to choose how she viewed and dealt with those circumstances.
Whether you are someone who resonates with these answers or not, there is still something to be said about how we are the sum of everyone we meet and every experience we have. Everyone we interact with does end up influencing the paths we choose to walk, the trails we try to blaze, and the kind of person we want to be. It’s interesting to consider how much of this specific example of fate with roommates is actually some universal power bringing people together, or if it’s just USC Housing playing matchmaker.
Model Rebecca Sung ‘28 has played basketball since preschool.
Model Elisa Nelson ‘28 is from Brooklyn, NY. She is on track to travel 18 countries before her 19th birthday.
ROULETTE
ROOMMATE
| McKenna McCallister
Their website says that if you don’t request to be assigned to a specific roommate group, then you’ll be
remember that Elisa would have wanted me to stand up and take up the space that I deserve. If I’m scared
THE SUN from BOTH SIDES
Written by INDIA BROWN
Photographed by KAYDEN HARMONY
Designed by OLIVIA HAU
It has always been a simple fact of my existence to observe the world around me, observe myself and my imagination, and put it into writing. Make use of it and do something with it. As a kid, it didn’t matter so much whether that was in a journal or novel, just that it had to be done, and if it wasn’t done, I was surely missing out on the big adult secrets of reality that children aren’t privy to.
The greatest of those secrets seemed to be LOVE.
It was everywhere — the driving force of every movie, television show, song, or book, every good act on the planet fueled by an energy that I had a limited and unfinished understanding of. I loved my friends and family, sure. I loved Hannah Montana and my baby blanket. But I had never been in love, and it tortured me not to understand what was evidently the impetus of all things beautiful, and maybe even life itself.
Over the years I thought I came close, but the feelings would stretch too thin to cross the finish line, maddening me beyond belief. How does one know? Was there a checklist nobody told me about? I wished someone would put it into words, for everything I had read or watched concerning love seemed enigmatic and finite. As time went on, the mystery grew alongside the impossibility of ever grasping the feeling, let alone articulating it.
But, about a year and a half ago, it happened. It snuck in quietly, through the back door of my consciousness, in my peripheral vision, a consequence of chance or maybe fate.
In the first week of my freshman year of college, long-term partnership was the last thing I expected. Classes had just started, and I was headed toward the USC Village with new friends. We were crossing the street when I spotted the tallest guy I’d yet to find at USC, with a mane of blonde hair and headphones. I looked him up and down and met his eyes — blue, soft, and vaguely familiar. There was no way I could’ve known him, and yet we kept staring at each other, suspended in a nebulous trance among the bustle of the crosswalk. There was a kind of captivating energy about him, some secret current running between us that I couldn’t understand — until it hit me.
THE SUN FROM BOTH SIDES | India Brown
India Brown ‘27 currently studies journalism. She has a dog named
Writer
Morty.
Model Mia Zhang ‘26 majors in data analysis but wishes to be an actress in the future.
We had matched on Hinge at the beginning of the summer in New York, on the other side of the country, with no clue of our imminently shared college experience. He had asked me out while I was away, and by the time I got back home, I had forgotten about it. What were the odds?
Evidently, he made the connection too, and we set up a date via our dormant Hinge conversation within ten minutes of making eye contact. On that first date, as we drove to a coffee shop, we learned we went to middle school together. A double coincidence – or was it destiny’s push and pull exerting a little more force? Were we simply marionettes, strung blindly through life, tugged left and right by an abstract creator behind the curtain?
Neither of us could believe it.
Neither of us could believe it. We imagined all the moments we might’ve passed each other in the hallways, sat a row apart in school assembly, brushed by each other, completely unaware that in a neardecade’s time, we’d be on a date 3,000 miles away, two different people entirely. I was self-conscious saying it was “meant to be” but it certainly felt that way.
After getting coffee, we drove through Laurel Canyon. He wanted to show me Blue Jay Way, the street his favorite Beatles song is named after. The sun was huge, and sounds of Nina Simone drifted from the car stereo. The scent of his air-freshener was called “Big Sur After Rain.” His 6’5 frame looked funny in the confines of the sedan, and he held the steering wheel like a cigarette as we wound through the canyon. As he drove, I felt a slow, honeyed onset of some ineffable sensation, not quite clear or sharp, a creeping awareness that this could be the realest shot at love I’d ever had, or the realest shot at heartbreak. I got home that evening and my roommates asked how it went. I didn’t know where to start.
Model Aaron Eichenlaub ‘27 is from Washington, D.C. He has two dogs at home.
There was another date, and another, and another, the time elapsed between each one getting shorter. It seemed naive or impossible to call it true love so soon, and I wondered constantly how you really know. Does the clarity arrive one day like a package in the mail? But from that first date, I felt we were in the presence of something greater — a third, unspoken entity, occupying the space between us. It was never a question of if, but when.
LOVE was the only avenue through which the two of us could ever get to know each other.
He eventually uttered those three words the week after we started dating. We were at the beach in celebration of an especially warm October day, and all afternoon there had been a kind of romance drenching the atmosphere. I saw the poetry in children giggling as they built sand castles, in seagulls landing on rocks, in the way the salt water came up to kiss the sand. By early evening, we were sunburnt and sticky from the ocean, mutually elated at the day’s beauty. We decided to stay until dark.
Perhaps the privacy of the setting sun or the empty beach softened the blow of expressing such a vulnerable sentiment. When he finally told me, I got the sense that it had been eating away at him, that he didn’t really have a choice in loving me, like the phrase slipped out of his mouth and had been waiting there a long time.
I said it back without a second thought. To tell him I loved him was like telling him the sky is blue, it was an unquestioned truth in my being, as simple as anything ordinary. As if the words had always existed and I was just finally allowed to speak them.
In this sense, although I understood the feeling at last, love became all the more confounding. I couldn’t grasp how I got here — how a stranger lingering in the shadows of my past so quickly became someone I was in love with, and as sure of it as I am my own name.
A feeling that once seemed eternally unreachable was now effortless.
Michelangelo famously said, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” Maybe our fate was always set in stone, and the living is the carving toward love and its heavenly spell. Perhaps buried in my psyche has always been this version of myself, here and now, that was meant to be with him.
Beneath my effort to articulate love lies a deeper search to ground the coincidence of us finding each other, the unbelievable ease of falling for him, into words. I have spent many pages of my journal trying to do it justice, this great mystic energy that’s sustained life itself, and I always fail. As a child, I thought experiencing love would give me answers to all that I didn’t understand. Instead, it’s shown me a kind of beauty inexpressible through language, untranslatable across a page. A sensation that cannot be quantified into the metric of letters or speech, something at once divine and primal, everywhere and nowhere, universal and yet of the utmost intimacy.
I don’t know about fate, or chance, or what luck or destiny steered us toward the privilege of one another. But I do know what love feels like, finally. And that’s enough, more than enough. Maybe that’s all there really is.
THE SUN FROM BOTH SIDES | India Brown
Written by David Sosa
Designed by Anushka Rane
Illustrations by Carlee Nixon
The exact details of life between the ages of one and six blur into each other. Instead, I’m left with impressions of what was, whether it be moving from house to house or watching cartoons when my parents were working. There are undoubtedly key moments that I remember, but they lack the same staying power that the day-to-day happenings hold.
However, what I have no problem recollecting is music. Somehow, someone always played music around me. My mom loved humming to the dark yet romantic synths of Depeche Mode; my dad did his best to imitate Johnny Cash’s gravelly voice and the androgynous voice of the Silversun Pickups’ lead singer; my stepdad formally introduced me to A Tribe Called Quest; my cousin shared his newfound love for Daft Punk and MGMT.
In many ways, these early years presented archetypes for the type of music I would seek out in my teens. Along the way, I attempted to pick up instruments when I fell out of love with baseball. The piano seemed like a good fit, but going to lessons felt more out of obligation than passion. Then came the clarinet, but there was never time to practice. Soon enough, I realized making music was not in the cards for me.
On the other side of musical passion, Josh Chung, a junior and cellist, grew up in a family of musicians. Whether he was in the car or in any given room of the house, there would be music playing — classical, to be specific.
“I started playing piano when I was four and my family is a huge music family,” he said. “My mom has a master’s degree in choral music and my dad has a minor in cello, and my extended family also has music as a major part of their family, which all had a huge influence on me ever since I was born.”
During my correspondence with Josh, I asked him to make a playlist of five songs that soundtrack his life thus far. I did the same, creating a playlist of my own where each song represents a stage of my life. The result was a collection of ten songs that shaped our personalities, backgrounds, and love for music.
JO#sH
1. Wasia Project - “Petals on the Moon”
“Just an addicting song that I vibe with no matter my mood. Doesn’t matter if I’m feeling hella depressed or super hyper, I would listen to this song and just get into this chill zone where I vibe and don’t think about anything else.”
2. Sam Kim - “No Sense”
“This is a song that I first learned on guitar. Damn this was really hard to learn, but this is what really got me into playing guitar. Love this genre that Sam Kim has too, this R&B soul kind of vibe that you don’t really see often in Korean artists.”
3. DEAN - “instagram”
“This is one of those songs that defined my taste in music. A good portion of me discovering my music taste started with this song, which opened my eyes to K-R&B and many of DEAN’s other songs.”
DAVID
1. The Cure - “Boys Don’t Cry”
While I have no recollection of this, my dad apparently sang this to me whenever I cried as a baby. I give him props for choosing such a fitting song. But more than that relatively irrelevant anecdote, new wave music in general was around me a lot as a kid. My parents grew up listening to those 80s bands, many of which were from the United Kingdom. It was only right, I too, would grow up listening to them. To me, diving back into artists and bands like The Cure brings about a lot of nostalgia — a purer time that was more carefree. Or at least, a time when it was easy to ignore anything that may have been happening around me.
2.
The Postal Service - “Such Great Heights”
Part of me wanted to throw a jokey song in the mix–like “Dance (A$$)” by Big Sean or “Like A G6” by Far East Movement, two tracks anyone born between 2000 and 2006 likely remembers growing up. But “Such Great Heights” gives a better idea of my life around kindergarten age. Despite coming out a year before I was born, The Postal Service’s single was on heavy rotation for both my parents. If I were at my dad’s house, it would likely come up on his green iPod’s queue. If I were at my mom’s house, we would probably hear it on an alternative music radio station. The lyrics are also full of optimism, something that I believe is important to have when you’re five years old. At that age, you really do feel like there’s nothing that can stop you.
3. Kid Cudi - “Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare)”
Kid Cudi played a big part in my introduction to hip-hop during my elementary years. While it wasn’t until a few years later that I would listen to artists like Kendrick Lamar and Tyler, the Creator, Cudi was there from the beginning. I vividly remember my stepdad showing me one of two music videos made for “Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare)” and the effect it had on me. His unflinching ability to share his darkest thoughts helped guide me through later troubles in my teen years. It didn’t hurt that one of my favorite bands at the time, MGMT, was also featured on the song.
Writer David Sosa ‘26 currently studies journalism. He met Mia Goth at Erewhon in 2024.
JO#sH
4. grentperez - “Us Without Me”
“I personally love grentperez and all of his music, although most are usually kinda happy, vibey... this is more of his slower, somberer music. I love the lyrics to this song and I feel as if many people can relate to this.”
5. Gustav Holst - “The Planets, Op. 32: IV.Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity”
“I get to play this in my orchestras every so often, but every single time this is such a banger. Everyone who has listened to or played this piece will tell you it is. Doesn’t matter if you don’t like classical music. Give this a listen, it’s worth it. Trust.”
DAVID
4. Alabama Shakes - “Sound & Color”
I first heard “Sound & Color” by Alabama Shakes sometime in 2015, but it wasn’t until middle school that I would rediscover them and let my music taste expand even more. At the same time, the range of emotions in this one song was fitting for middle school me, which was undoubtedly my most tumultuous. Oddly, rediscovering such a touching song coincided with the reexamination I had of my life, from memories that stuck with me, to things in the past that were unresolved. Perhaps it’s a cliche to consider the period in my life where I was going through puberty the most life-changing thus far, but that’s what happened.
5. Yo La Tengo - “You Can Have It All”
Toward the end of high school, I found myself at a crossroads academically and personally. Whether it was living with my mom full-time, rescinding my application to a four-year in favor of doing two years of community college, or any other sudden changes, a lot was going on. However, as if they had been there since the beginning, I connected to their atmospheric, often introspective songs that soothed my soul better than any other earthly method. While it’s hard choosing a favorite song, “You Can Have It All” was the right reaffirmation I needed in my life to feel like my goals and desires were valid — that I could have what I wanted, so long as I worked for it.
As important as music is to my life, it is not the be-all, end-all that dictates my every move. At the same time, I can’t imagine my life without some of my favorite songs and artists. When words aren’t needed and silence is too silent, it fills the spaces in between that would otherwise be unbearable to go through. For most of my life, I thought music was at its best when it soundtracked your key moments.
But as my life revolves more and more around it, I realize it helps strengthen those invisible ties between us. Whether understood or not by both parties, there’s something to our shared passion for music.
Photo by Maryam Rahimie
Readers: This piece is one continuous narrative interrupted by three relevant but unconnected poems. Each poem represents a different form that the red thread can manifest in our lives.
Maybe that’s why your cardinal direction was the matriarchal confusion you consumed.
Hurry, haste, and fatigue, You were told that you were a drain on the system Since the day you were conceived.
She remembers you with your 90s perm and asks for forgiveness, But your hair went straight three decades ago; You are not the cure to her sickness.
Words that use up too much breath. Clean it up.
The generational lies are making a mess.
Her face has changed like yours will soon; Will your heart splinter in symmetry with hers too?
You bear your teeth in a smile, Trained from her whimpered growls at the dinner table.
Her assimilated accent saying, I love you, Leaving you to wonder if the words are disingenuous too.
Her words unravel you. Frayed, but not torn, So you taught your children to sew When you couldn’t stitch yourself up anymore.
Elastic words And a fractured heartGestures made too late, Stretching your bonded thread apart.
Halle Hunt ‘26 grew up on a farm and can shear sheep. She studies cognitive science and philosophy.
There comes a time in everyone’s life when a symbiotic relationship turns parasitic – when it feeds from you more than it feeds you. This is a human phenomenon that I believe can only be learned and adapted to from experience. Maybe we are all connected by a convoluted red thread, but what do you do when you want to sever the connection to someone you are inextricably tied to?
Sometimes you feel it with a friend, a partner or a peer, but this mind-body conflicting desire to cut ties can often be rooted in family first. Our DNA tells us that we are a combination of our family. Our parents, aunties and uncles raise us to believe that it is our DNA strands, our genetic red threads, that are woven to hug us and keep us warm. Over time, however, whether it is distance, neglect, manipulation or abuse, the threading starts to feel more like a snake constricting – blood slowly running cold. Soon we learn that this thread that never breaks can surely fray, so we hastily attempt to unravel the thread that was so carefully wombwoven on our backs.
But let’s focus on you. Years soon pass, and you finally recognize your self-imposed Sisyphean task as you look down at the many mangled threads, knotted connections, in your hands. You are a prisoner to your own metaphysical feedback loop.
But this seems unfair! You are not trying to cut these connections, familial or not, for no good reason. Connections, tethers, threads, whatever you want to call them, are not simply one-sided – they are an infinite loop that feels heavier every time they circle back to you. It feels hopeless to resent this cycle when that resentment ultimately comes back around to trip you. So you loosen your grip and try to let go of this heart-sunken hatred. You loosen your grip and passively let your body sway on the identity-sacrificing merry-go-round. You respond only to tugs from your tether because how could you remember your name when your loop only refers to you by the name given by another?
Model Thomazin Rose Jury ‘25 is also a ballet dancer from Iowa City.
She took a nap in the unkempt forest. The sun fueled her rest.
Her emotions needed no translator - They fell plainly on her face.
Furrowed brows with a dimple that followed her lips: She was prey that desired to chase.
She found company in the eternal. Receiving whispers from winds and, if lucky, an ocean squeeze.
Strategic in her movements, Yet her heart was fatigued.
Ripples in the river and a twinge in her feet - Winds whispered “Farewell” through a rustle in the leaves.
A Shepherd’s crook appeared with a body attached. The body saw the girl, and folded up its sleeves.
Unimpressed, she took a step back and started to walk away. Quickly, the shadow with inquisitive eyes asked her for her name.
Weary and worn she fled to the trees.
Yet her legs were soon tangled, And as her chest hit the floor it forced out a sigh.
Searching for many, yet herding only one, the crook asked again. She shook her head, denying a word to refer to her by.
Aghast and ignoring the wool meant to be retrieved, The body was scandalized to see a face without a name.
She protested.
To know her was not to call her; To name her was but a soft-palatal bother.
He whispered in her ear, the name he made for her. And although no human was around to hear it, She knew her identity was compromised - Words now filled the empty echo the air used to comfort her by.
The crook grinned at the gift he bestowed and left to continue his white-wooled following.
And although her heart was mended shortly, It was the wind from which she never could hear the same hollowing.
The youngest sister of the fates
Clotho - spinning the thread, Starting our slates.
But my threads are getting fabricatedWhat was once comforting Is now caving in on me.
I don’t want to admit that they’ve changed, Or that they’re no longer who I knew in the beginning.
Tears streaming six months long. Still I clasp onto the unraveling spool: I’m afraid of being wrong.
A ripped red thread, And suddenly my body is in withdrawal. I think I feel lighter now, But my sprint has turned into a crawl.
A string that has been stretched thin But never really broken. So every now and then I feel a tug from it. Sometimes I check on it, with no real purpose other than intrigue Because maybe we’re tied to who someone once was but can no longer be. Maybe we’re tied to a point in time and not a present body.
As Clotho continues to weave, We haven’t spoken since. And I think I’d consider that my heart-sickened success.
(Sections of this poem were taken from anonymous answers to the question: Why have you/Why do you want to cut ties with someone or something? Do you think it was or will be successful?)
Eventually, when your nauseating merry-go-round slows, you try to hop off. You stumble as you step down, dizzy and cross-eyed, inadvertently wrapping the threads around yourself, tripping and choking your body. You are free! Yet, still bound to the threads in your hands?
Maybe we can’t control that we’re all connected. Maybe once a thread is bonded to another, then it is simply a leash you will always need to hold onto. Maybe that is also our way out – a freedom through determinism. Undoubtedly, there is an air-constricting struggle to be dragged by a tether that feels immune to even the sharpest blade. But, there is strength in planting your feet and wrapping your hand around that tether, once again breathing freely. For there is an underestimated power in how our hands care and maintain what we hold onto.
Forgiveness doesn’t necessitate a severed connection, but surely resentment doesn’t either. If the thread is already in one hand and unphased by the scissors in the other, then it’s up to us to decide how we weave our fate.
Model Luc Edouard Eldridge ‘27 studies music composition. He loves In-N-Out (so much).
written by sammie yen
photographed by
lily citron
designed by
jaimie liao
Sammie Yen ‘27 majors in narrative studies and communication. She has used the same digital camera since 2013.
THE
RED THREAD EXPERIMENT| Sammie Yen
Every day, I walked by hundreds of people I will never talk to. Crowds pour out into the Jefferson crosswalk. Faces blending together. Walkways teeming with students who have places to be. I don’t know names, but I see UGG slippers, Dulce drinks, and Santa Cruz skateboards.
With over 40,000 students, USC may as well be its own country, so I would venture to say this is a universal experience that happens every day. We’ll walk by people we don’t know. Sometimes, we’ll see someone we do recognize. We’ll stop, pull our music from our ears, have a brief conversation, and then keep walking. More often than not, when we’re walking alone, we see people who are walking with others.
It’s difficult to feel connected to everyone we see. It’s difficult to feel connected when your solitude feels amplified by witnessing others’ easy companionship.
But I want to prove that we are connected. Or, at least, to prove we’re more connected than we know. So, I embarked on a “red thread” journey to see if the red thread is a circle. I hoped to talk to one person who would lead me to the next, and the next, and so on and so forth until I ended up with the same person I started with.
I began with Sage Murthy, whom I met last fall. We lived not just in the same dorm but in the same hallway. We joined the same writing magazine without knowing the other applied. Within a few minutes of meeting, we found out that our homes in the San Gabriel Valley were less than ten minutes away from each other. Our high schools couldn’t be further from each other — hers in outdoorsy New Hampshire and mine in suburban Pasadena — yet we both ended up here at USC.
Crazy coincidence, right?
In my mind, Sage was the perfect person to start my experiment. Genuine, smart and funny, Sage is someone who seems like she knows everyone. Even if she doesn’t know you, she can — and will — in just a single interaction.
“USC feels like the perfect size,” Sage said. “What I really like about USC is that I can go places and not know people and feel comfortable existing without being perceived. But, I also feel like when I am on the way somewhere, the chance of me seeing one person I know is pretty high, which makes it feel like a perfect size.”
She continued to reflect on the connection. “I really do believe that connections happen really randomly. I’ve thought about this a lot. A lot of the friends I’ve made are through clubs and organizations . . . When I was going through the recruitment process from the other end, I came to realize there are so many factors that go into choosing people. A lot of it is chance.”
The balance between anonymity and familiarity shapes how many people experience connection here. In some spaces, it’s easy to feel like a stranger. In the most unexpected spaces, you might be recognized.
“Something that really brings me joy is finding people that know someone I know.”
“One time I was in an elevator, and someone was like, ‘Are you Sage?’ And I was like, what? It’s always in places like an elevator or a random party where somebody tangentially knows you,” she said.
“I love meeting new people, and I love even more seeing the network of people.”
When I asked who I should talk to next, Sage immediately suggested Parth Joshi.
“One of [the] things that I really appreciate about him is he’s not a gatekeeper,” Sage explained. “Every time I talk to Parth about any of the organizations he’s in or any of the things he’s applying for, he’s never one to be like, ‘I can’t talk about it because I don’t want the competition.’ He’s always been someone who has helped me reframe my resume, make my LinkedIn.”
When I connected with Parth, I asked him about his thoughts on connections at USC.
“Mutual friends are a lost art,” he told me. “I feel like people aren’t really introducing one another to mutual friends anymore. You hear all these stories of people who were in their 20s, and they knew everyone’s mutual friends, and that’s how they made friends. I feel like that isn’t so much a thing anymore.”
This seemed to contradict what Sage said about the joy of finding mutual connections. Perhaps people experience connection differently, even within the same social environment.
This contradiction fascinated me. Are we simultaneously more and less connected than previous generations? Technology allows us to maintain superficial awareness of hundreds or thousands of people’s lives, yet how many of these connections have depth? When Parth reminisced about how three decades ago, “people in their 20s” knew everyone’s mutual friends, he touched on something profound about how connection has changed. We’ve gained breadth but perhaps sacrificed depth.
“I feel like I can’t go outside without saying hi to just a few people, which is always nice,” Parth continued, echoing Sage’s sentiment about USC’s size. “But there’s also days where I don’t see anyone that I know, and it’s also nice to just blend in with the crowd.”
When I ask him how many connections it would take to reach anyone on campus, he doesn’t hesitate.
“It would take two people. I think it would take two people to find anyone,” Parth guessed. “Maybe three for some people, but I like to believe that I’m two away from everyone.”
I’ve always been fascinated by the chemistry of connection. That feeling when you meet someone and just know they’ll matter to you. It’s like recognizing a song you’ve never heard before, yet somehow already know the words to. You can’t explain it, but you feel it instantly.
When I asked Parth who I should speak with next, he suggested Sama Shah, someone he connected with almost instantly.
Parth met Sama during auditions for Asli Baat, USC’s South Asian Fusion a cappella team.
“By April, we were hanging out pretty much four times a week outside of practice,” he recalled. “She’s just one of those people where I feel like we clicked immediately. No matter what, we can always make each other laugh.”
What Parth values most about Sama seemed to parallel what Sage valued in him: authenticity and warmth.
“Sama is just a very giving person. Very, very kind,” Parth said. “Her demeanor is so warm. It almost catches you off guard. I feel like it’s so easy to be natural around her.”
When I talked to Sama, she reflected on how proximity affects connection, bringing us back to Sage’s thoughts on USC’s size.
“The fact that we’re in such close proximity increases the amount of times you run into people, specifically mutual friends,” Sama observed.
Despite our digital networks, proximity still matters profoundly. We’re still embodied beings whose
connections flourish with physical presence. The architecture of our campus, the scheduling of our classes, the location of our housing – all shape the landscape of possible connections.
feeling of being truly seen by another person.
She paused, then offered a philosophy that seems to tie everything together
There was something revealing about how people described their friends. The qualities they admired often reflected what they value most in connection. Some praised reliability, while others valued shared interests or humor. But underneath these specific traits laid something more fundamental, more humane: the
As Sama reflected on connection, her perspective has evolved over time, perhaps, like the red thread itself.
“I want to know everything about their past and who they are, where they’re from, but to an extent, I think learning about someone’s past isn’t as important as understanding where they are right now and creating present moment memories.”
“Connection has become a lot deeper than maybe it was in high school,” she said.
“And I think that was shaped by my college environment.”
This sentiment reminded me how this project itself was creating connections in the present moment.
Sama suggested I speak with Sasha Guntu next, continuing my journey through USC’s interconnected web.
When I asked Sasha about what makes someone well-connected, she had a clear perspective: “The people I know that I perceive to be the most well-connected are some of the most outgoing people. They’re also really good at striking up conversations about virtually any topic, or being able to find that common thread between themselves and all the different types of people they meet.”
Her observation about finding a “common thread” resonated with the entire premise of my experiment: the idea that we’re all connected by invisible threads, waiting to be discovered through conversation.
Sasha shared a recent experience that perfectly illustrated the phenomenon Parth had described: how close we often are to people without knowing it.
“I recently became really good friends with my neighbors, but I realized that we had so many mutual friends before, and we were always like rotating in the same circles almost, just without having ever actually met each other.”
This story confirmed what Sage and Parth had suggested: We’re often just one or two connections away from people we’ve never met. We exist in overlapping social circles, occasionally brushing past each other until the right moment brings us together.
As our conversation turned to the future, after graduation, Sasha offered a thoughtful reflection on how our connections might change:
“We’ll continue to remain really close and strongly connected with all of our best friends that we surround ourselves with constantly,” she said. “But a lot of the people on the periphery that we talk to… it becomes a lot harder after we graduate.”
Her words made me think about the temporality of these connections, how some threads in our lives remain strong while others fade. Yet, even those faded threads have shaped who we are and who we’ve become connected to.
Model Nicole Nelson ‘27 majors in cinema and media studies. She can also juggle.
“The
While I didn’t make it back full circle to Sage, I did realize we’re connected through our moments in time and our intentional relationships. I think back to all of the anonymous connections that punctuate everyday life. The time when a girl shared her umbrella with me while I was walking to the Galen Center in the pouring rain. Or the time when I stumbled while crossing the street, and I exchanged a look of relief with the woman on the other side.
red
thread may not always form a perfect circle, but it weaves through all of us in ways we rarely notice, until we pause to follow where it leads.”
These moments don’t fit neatly into our conventional understanding of “connection,” yet they form an essential part of the fabric of our community. They remind us that we’re seen, acknowledged and part of something larger than ourselves.
Written by Maddy Brown
by Lyric Campbell
Designed by Lauren Lu
THE UMBILICAL CORD OF FATE
Photographed
Sometimes, the red thread of fate is more of a whitish gray. Sometimes it’s an umbilical cord connecting two babies in the womb, forming a bond that will last long after they come screaming into the world and that cord is cut.
Izzy and Alex Ster are two such halves of a whole, but they maintain their individuality too. At 22-years-old, they couldn’t be more different — or more in tune — with each other. On paper, there are glaring dissimilarities between them: Izzy is a glasses-wearing, brunette film student while Alex is a blonde, finance-loving sorority member.
“Anyone who is a twin, or knows a pair of twins, knows that it’s an unbreakable bond. Forged between two halves of a whole.”
Izzy, who jokingly refers to herself as “neurotic,” moves through life as the anxious, comedic relief, Type A, one of the pair. Alex is the more laid back of the two: the Type B sister who talks her sister off mental ledges and writes practical compliments like “you make good soup” in her sister’s birthday cards. Despite their sometimes—as Izzy put its— maddening differences, the two are a perfect fit for each other. They equally dole out life advice to each other and are the first to show up with flowers when one of them has something to celebrate.
“We really just, in a cosmic way, balance each other out in ways whenever we need the other one to do so,” Izzy said with a laugh.
The two have been compared since the moment they were born, just one minute apart. From birth weights to high school GPAs, they’ve always existed to other people in relation to each other. Despite the frustrations that accompany that, it’s turned out to be a secret source of strength.
“That’s never been something that’s affected our
compassion towards one another, which I think is pretty cool. I know, especially with girls, sometimes jealousy is just an inherent dynamic of those friendships that you have to navigate,” said Izzy.
It’s clear that whatever resentment she might have toward being compared to Alex, none of it could ever be directed at her sister. Their bond is far too loving for any such things.
“I think whenever I’ve experienced that in my personal life, I would just go back to my relationship with my twin, and if she and I can handle getting compared since the second we were fully formed humans, it can’t be that bad.”
23-year-old twins Claudia and Madeline Bennett haven’t faced the same level of comparison in their lives, but they attribute that to the fact that most of the time, people don’t even know they’re twins.
There was Claudia, with her pale blonde hair, green eyes, and extroverted personality. Then there was Madeline, with her brown hair and eyes, and more reserved attitude. Claudia, just a bit taller than Madeline, but both sharing the same upturned nose. One ENFJ and one INTP, according to the Meyer-Briggs Type Indicator, an online personality test they took. Both lovers of the stage, but Claudia drawn to musical theater and Madeline passionate about Shakespeare.
Looking back on their lives, Madeline believes that while “the worst of it was when we were younger and still figuring out who we were as people,” asserting their individuality hasn’t been as much of an issue for the Bennett girls.
“I’ve never felt the need to compete with her or anything like that. The only time it could be a possible problem is when there are other forces trying to cause problems,” Madeline said. “Because neither of us wants to be put into boxes or pitted against each other. We just want to cheer each other on.”
Models Anya-Kathryn
Barrus and Rachel Barrus ‘27 founded a film collective named “Click to View” at USC.
They’re the same in many ways, but different enough to escape the worst of the comparisons — not that they would have cared much. They love the ways in which they are inextricably intertwined.
Even the tinny quality of Claudia’s voice as it filters through the phone can’t hamper the passion in it as she talks about all the ways in which her twin and their older sister have made her who she is. It oozes with gratefulness, joy and deep admiration for the two women she’s grown up with. She’s a mosaic of her sisters, and she would never want to change that.
“I have no idea how to define who I am, because I actually have no idea who that is,” mused Claudia. “I’m sure we each have our own interests and our own passions and our own insecurities and difficulties, and we’re all working through those, whether we speak about them out loud or not. But I think that at the end of the day, a lot of who I am is made up of parts of [Madeline] as well.”
The Bennett sisters have always complemented each other well. As Claudia puts it, they have “a really unique ability to complete each other.” Where one of them lacks, the other one makes up for it.
Writer Maddy Brown ‘25 was born with 11 fingers. She studies journalism and minors in photography.
Many people would chalk up the incomparable closeness of twins like the Bennetts and Sters to pure biology. After all, twins like Izzy and Alex did split from the same egg, so they were once, quite literally, the same being. The Sters’ parents used to put them into different rooms as babies, tickle one of them and listen in wonderment as the other one would laugh. And without firsthand experience of the psychic link between twins, who would believe it?
But all four women, interviewed separately and without knowledge of the others’ answers, had the same
thing to say — it’s more than just genetics, it’s cosmic alignment. Of course, they’ve considered the biological element of it, and are hesitant to completely dismiss it. But, as Alex says, their existence on this earth as twins “probably would be down to fate,” a sentiment her sister wholeheartedly agrees with.
“I believe in fate. I think everything happens for a reason. So therefore, I think I was meant to be a twin for a very specific reason,” said Izzy. “Absolutely, it’s because of fate, and the biological stuff just happened so we could be here at the same time together.”
UMBILLICAL
THE
CORD OF FATE | Maddy Brown
Claudia is of a like mind. She has proclaimed herself as the selfdoubter of the two, but she has no doubt about this. While her sister sees it as a more of a combination of science and destiny, Claudia can’t help but think that her and her twin’s existence is “totally fate, 100%.”
“I don’t really know how other twins operate, but I’ve never really questioned the fact that we were absolutely meant to find each other in this lifetime,” Claudia said, with a sweet sincerity that makes it difficult to think any differently.
If twins are bound by some red thread of fate, then it’s undeniable that they influence each other’s destinies as well, without even meaning to. For both sets of twins, a prime example of this is their acceptance to USC, neither pair consciously deciding to try to go together.
Izzy and Alex have always leaned on each other first and foremost when it comes to any major life decision, a dynamic that Izzy admits has influenced “most things” in their lives. However, when the twins got into USC, she felt that it was the universe guiding them towards the next step in their life path.
“I think no matter how much we think we might want different things, or go somewhere else, we always end up in the same place.”
Alex also considers their acceptances into university as an example of the natural hand they have in each other’s fates. More specifically, she understands how it’s one of the many little ways that the thread between them pulls them together, even when they’re not expecting or wanting it.
Like the Ster sisters, the Bennetts didn’t specifically aim toward a future at USC together. But when they found out that they’d not only both been admitted but also both received the appropriate amount of financial aid, it felt too serendipitous to ignore. They felt that it was a journey they needed to take together, eschewing that they’d “been so united [their] entire lives.”
The attachment between twins is formed inside them in the womb. Whether it’s biology or destiny, it doesn’t matter. This umbilical cord, that of fate, connects them in an instantaneous and intimate dance of hearts that no one, save other twins, could hope to imagine or replicate.
It comes in strange ways and in secret tones. It arrives imperceptibly in the little moments in which the joys of sisterhood, of twinhood, hit suddenly and sweetly. When I ask Madeline in what ways the thread between her sister and herself materializes, she has to take a moment to articulate her thoughts.
A thoughtful beat passes. And then, “I think a lot of it comes more in positive moments, like moments of joy.”
This is something that connects the two of them, shared moments of unique hilarity that no one has the possibility to be privy to, even if they wanted to. Like most twins, Claudia and Madeline are as much bonded by the joy shared between them as they are by the hardships.
“I honestly think there’s times in my life when we’ve been apart that I typically feel more in tune with what’s going on with her than myself.”
Perhaps it is only biology. Perhaps it’s all chance and genetics and what have you. But, there’s an inkling that even the miracle of science couldn’t be held responsible for: a bond as wonderfully incomprehensible as the one that exists in twins.
“It’s just that feeling that we’re connected to each other. It’s kind of like a phantom umbilical cord, I like to call it, because I think we’ve kind of just always been like that, and always been very, very in tune with each other.”
One has to imagine that some divine universal force, with a lazy swirl of its finger, halved one soul into two bodies and set them free into the world to roam it together. One has to consider that it’s fate that’s brought them together and the decision to love each other that keeps them there.
“Our sense of humor is very much the same. And I always know that I have someone to go to, even if the moments are not as joyful,” Madeline said.
For Izzy and Alex, the thought of that thread between and within them being severed is simply laughable. It’s physical, it’s psychic, it’s emotional, and it’s incapable of fraying.
“We are shaped by the same childhood memories. We’re shaped by the same childhood home. We are built into each other, and we have such a strong connection that will never go away,” Claudia said. “If I ever feel alone, I know that at the end of the day, I always have her because we have the same DNA, and we’re always tied together.”
WRITTEN BY OLIVIA SMITH PHOTOGRAPHED BY LILY CITRON
DESIGNED BY COLLEEN GU, OLIVIA HAU, AND CARLEE NIXON
Writer Olivia Smith ‘28 made cameos in “Knocked Up” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” as a baby. She studies American popular culture.
30 MINUTES - SITCOM
20 EPISODES
OPENER
Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. Sometimes your job’s a joke, you’re broke, and your love life’s DOA. Sometimes you travel down the road and back again. Sometimes you need to know “How I Met Your Mother” and who that “B* in Apartment 23” is. Sometimes you’re “Living Single,” out looking for your “New Girl,” only to find two broke ones instead and a “Baby Daddy.” Sometimes “Sex and the City” also means “Young and Hungry.” And you’re so busy looking for “Happy Endings,” that you find yourself in a “Different World”.
But in college, these “sometimes” are all the time, and the only way to get through them is with F·R·I·E·N·D·S. Not just any friends. Not the revolving door of Welcome Week strangers who, despite never seeing again, still plague the expanding abyss that is your camera roll or those people you always excitedly say “OMG hiiii!” to, before briskly walking away because in actuality, the only thing you know about that person is that you know them.
No, the only way to survive college and that weird in-between stage when the world expects you to act like an adult — even though you don’t even know how insurance works and can’t remember the last time you ate a vegetable — is friends, a destined few seemingly drawn to you.
Enter “Growing Pains.”
CHARACTER LIST
ELINAM (ELLIE) KUDIABOR THE PERSONALITY HIRE
Ellie is the glue of the group. The conductor that keeps everyone connected and the closest thing to a real-life optimist.
Ellie sees the world as a carousel of imagination and creativity allowing her to approach life with a pure heart and an unshakeable belief in the goodness of humanity. She has this magical ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to see beauty in the most unexpected places. Most of the time it’s simply infectious, but has been known to toe the line of relentlessly annoying.
Ellie expresses herself through her clothes, unafraid of her authentic self regardless of what others think. Her clothes serve as a physical representation of her innermost thoughts and emotions. In order to keep her mood and outfit matching, instead of books and needless school supplies, she carries two spare changes of clothes: One all black for moody occasions, and one drenched in bright colors and “fun patterns” for any other emotion. She even prides herself on just how many outfits she manages to cram into her 2x2 dorm drawers.
Yet, her bubbly disposition and optimism sometimes makes Ellie detached from reality. Though her ditzy cluelessness and nurturing persona attract people to her, it also allows people to take advantage of her. It is often with the help of her friends that Ellie is able to overcome a little more realistically, but never too much and never for too long.
Her pathological charisma, perky personality, and optimism bring a much-needed source of light and positivity in her friend group, amidst the chaos of college. Vicky is Ellie’s best friend and her perfect foil. She’s a
VICTORIA (VICKY) AMANKWAH THE CYNIC
natural-born realist with a flair for sarcasm. Despite the two polarizing personalities, Vicky and Ellie have been best friends since high school.
For Vicky, words like “intimidation” and “unconfrontational” don’t exist. She’s blunt, stubborn, and sarcastic, almost to a fault. She genuinely enjoys teasing those around her. Despite being the type of person to have a list of insults queued up to bombard her friends with, she’s a strong believer that only she can make fun of her friends. Anyone else messes with them, and her natural loyalty kicks in.
IF ELLIE IS THE PAPER, THEN VICKY IS THE SCISSORS.
She’s the type to give great advice, but when you try to redirect her advice onto her, she’s not one to take it. Usually, she’ll hit you with “Why would I listen to that?” or “See that applies to you, not me.”
Vicky struggles with expressing her emotions, physically pained by the idea of vulnerability. Her walls often lead to trust issues and her pushing people away. But once someone is a friend, they are a friend for life, and she is very protective of her friends. She has no problem fighting for her friends and always has their happiness in mind.
Vicky provides the wit and undying loyalty needed to keep the group together, as they experience the many stresses of adulthood.
THE PARENT
Appropriately referred to as “the father” by his friends, Myles is driven, organized, and meticulous. Undeniably a type-A personality, Myles thrives in roles of authority and responsibility. He has a natural inclination towards control and attention to detail.
He’s the type of person who remembers everyone’s favorite everything, just in case a spontaneous gift is needed. If you ask him, his “parental duties” consist of he’ll say: providing unwanted parental-like advice, settling petty group arguments, usually in a way that gets everyone upset with him, and planning the next ten years of the group’s lives based on a few meticulously planned choices, of course, made by him.
But, like any good parent, he provides unrelenting support for all his friends. Known as their biggest cheerleader and helping hand, he’s more than willing to spend 36 hours working last minute to help you finish a project or study that subject you’ve been putting off until the day before midterms.
The group doesn’t need a boss or a retirement plan, but they let Myles do it anyway. They know that despite the way he’ll annoyingly tell you not to respond to that person who’s been ghosting you for three weeks, only to text you “u up?” at 2 am, or strongly advise you against doing anything lifethreatening — also known as anything fun — comes from a place of love. And for his friends, his love runs deep. So, fortunately or unfortunately, that just means he needs to be in control.
Myles provides the much-needed support and structure as he and his friends enter the uncharted terrain of maturity.
KRISTIAN MORALES
THE NEIGHBOR
Kristian is stoic and too old-looking for his age. If you ask Vicky, Kristian looks much older and wiser than any other freshman. But once you get him talking, you realize that’s not really the case. While Vicky is the foil to Ellie, Krisitian and Ellie are the same side of the coin. Perhaps the only person in the world who matches her love for life, he is the lovable and affable neighbor. His down-to-earth demeanor, approachable personality, and genuine warmth attract people toward him.
Kristian’s the classic middle child, adaptable, social, independent, and a born mediator. He’s the type of person who doesn’t really get mad. Sure, he can be disappointed. Or frustrated. Even vengeful. But growing up in the middle, being angry just never seemed practical.
While Krisitian’s groundedness and laid-back personality draw people in, his unwavering loyalty makes people want to stay. Like Vicky, his friends are for life.
Though he is usually level-headed, when it comes to competition, another side of his personality comes out. Despite being the middle child, he lives for competition, and he can make nearly anything a contest. Who can eat the fastest? Who can sleep the longest? Who can be the latest to class? Whatever it is, as long as he can win. And he always thinks he can win. Though his deadly drive usually gets him in trouble, he’s not one to back down from a challenge.
Despite this, Kristian wears his heart on his sleeve, never afraid to show vulnerability. He is someone willing to laugh at himself and embrace his flaws.
He provides a source of consistency and calm as the group braves the storm that comes with (bettering themselves OR the tough decisions of the adult world).
VICTOR BAULT-SPECHER THE ODD-ONE IN
Victor is nothing like anyone in the group. Yet, he belongs nowhere else but with them. Think of the goofball Winston Bishop in “New Girl”, surrounded by a practical ensemble or the immature Barney Stinson in “How I Met Your Mother”, surrounded by real adults.
Despite all odds, and the whole being British thing,
He adds a dose of fun to every conversation. His eclectic nature makes him someone interesting to be around and unnaturally bold. Victor is the type of guy to go up to a group and just start talking, as if he just found his long lost siblings. Yet, his effortless charisma always makes
Victor lets his mouth speak before his brain can think, simply lacking any semblance of a filter. For any other group, this might cause problems. Luckily for him, even when they do think, his friends have no filter.
Victor’s downfall is that his spacy personality makes him appear as if he doesn’t care or isn’t really present in the moment. But, this is the farthest thing from the truth. He is perceptive, especially when it comes to reading people’s emotions. It’s just sometimes he doesn’t look it.
Bonded to his friends by their unconditional acceptance of him, he is incredibly passionate about his friendships.
Victor adds an off-beat and unexpected energy needed to keep the group dynamic interesting and fun as they grow
“
IF THE GROUP IS READING ONE PAGE, VICTOR IS READING A WHOLE DIFFERENT BOOK, UPSIDE DOWN.
THE MEET QUEUE
After school, Ellie sees Vicky again on the A-train to Howard Beach, Queens, the same line she uses to get home. Ellie knows this is her chance to talk to her again.
She skips past the space-consuming small talk, deciding to sit next to Vicky and start talking about her day. Vicky looks genuinely concerned, which is to be expected when a stranger starts spilling their guts at you. Ellie asks Vicky about her day, and she pauses long enough to examine Ellie’s school uniform and the welcoming expression plastered throughout Ellie’s face before uncharacteristically speaking. From there, the puzzle pieces connected, and the pair were together through everything.
looking emptier than how she found it. Assigned to live in perhaps the oldest building in Los Angeles, the room flaunted its age, with stylish dents in the walls and a perfumy “old man” smell.
In the present, on the first day of freshman year at college, we open in Ellie and Vicky’s dorm. Despite having all last week to unpack, Ellie has nothing but a single pen and tomorrow’s outfit to decorate her room, while Vicky’s side took being functional too seriously,
The girls bumped into Myles at the dramatic arts student orientation. Myles, though a mutual on Instagram for both of them, had nothing more than one of those awkward “get to know your freshman peers” conversations with them. In It looked something like this: an in-depth paragraph about your personality that you sent to a handful of people on the USC Freshman Instagram page only to receive a like on the message and no reply. Despite their first interaction not going as planned, once they met in person, they clicked. Instantly bonding over their love for acting, drama as a concept, and reruns of “Baddies.”
Finally, the last class of the day, the mandatory freshman general education seminar, in which Vicky Ellie, and Myles all happened to be in together. The minute class started, their professor told the class to get into groups of five. Vicky, Ellie, and Myles naturally gravitated towards each other before realizing they didn’t have enough people. Luckily, Kristian was sitting right next to them, looking so old he made the group ponder, “Is there such a thing as a super freshman in college?” He asked to join, and Ellie responded with an instant “yes,” even though Myles and Vicky were reluctant. By the time the rest of the groups were formed, the process of elimination put Victor in their group.
The second Victor met them, he attempted to make a joke that didn’t land (actually, you could probably still find it floating around up there even now). Ellie laughed, not at the joke but at the expressions everyone else made at the joke, the perfect blend of “what” and “huh.” At that moment, it became clear to Ellie that she had just found her people.
Finding each other was the easy part. Now comes the pain of growing into adults, the discovery of themselves, and the highs and lows of college. But at least, they can do it together.
EPISODE GUIDE
THE 104TH DAY OF SUMMER VACATION
Through a series of coincidences, the group all find each other in the strangest places.
GARAGE ROOF PARKING
The group discovers their new “spot” but when one member starts to use it for other purposes, a dispute erupts. And there’s only one way to settle it . . . volleyball?
WE’RE PLAYING FAMILY
When a skit of them acting like family gets too personal, the group will learn truths about each other that will either bring them together or rip them apart.
DORM WARS
Beef between the gang and another friend group on their floor leads to elaborate schemes and pranks, all escalating to a final showdown. But the school won’t tolerate this behavior and someone’s got to go.
“THE ENGLISH ONE”
Victor catches a bad case of homesickness. And foreign love is in the air.
I’D RATHER WATCH THAT ONE BLACK MIRROR EPISODE
It’s Hallo-weekend! five parties, five outfits, five ways everything could go wrong.
SIDE QUEST
Everyone has their own version of an absolutely chaotic day.
FRIENDS-ISH-GIVING
It’s Thanksgiving, a time to reflect with your loved ones. But the girls are in a fight, and the boys have to pick sides, so the vibes are not really giving, and there’s not much to be thankful for.
YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY! It’s Kristian’s birthday! Too bad everyone forgot.
THAT ONE KID WITH A CRUNCHY ASS COUGH
It’s a big week for the whole gang, but when everyone catches the college flu they must power through, but should they?
YOU SHOULD PROBABLY BUY A FILTER
Freshly off Winter Break, the group plays Truth or Dare with the floor. What could go wrong?
A THICK LAYER OF GLAZE
Pride and ego get the best of each friend. But will the damage this causes be irreparable?
PRIME TIME REALITY TV
Myles, Ellie, and Vicky all signed up for the same audition in secret. With finite spaces, a competition to win over the judges ensues.
DA BROS
A problem with the housing application means someone has to make a tough sacrifice.
LATE NIGHTS
Midterms are coming up and the pressure is on. Stress and sleep deprivation, I wonder what could happen?
WHAT HAPPENS IN SPRING BREAK, STAYS IN SPRING BREAK
In a week of partying, things get crazy. And then really awkward.
10 MONTHS AGO
Each member reminisces about 10 months ago, on arrival day and welcome week, realizing just how connected they always were.
WHO SIGNED OFF ON THIS SPINOFF?
A cross-over between friend groups introduces a conflict of personalities and interests.
UNO
A card game escalates to its most extreme form. Someone has to make a life-changing decision about whether or not they’re coming back to school.
MOVE OUT DAY
Summer is on the horizon, and it’s the last day of school. But with everyone going back to their respective cities, there is an unbearable feeling of uncertainty, like this is goodbye forever.
Okay, so this story is made up. Mostly. Sure, the names aren’t real, and the people don’t exist, but for the most part...
ENDING “
THIS SHOW AND THESE CHARACTERS, ALL CREATED BY ME, ARE A STAND-IN FOR EVERY SINGLE FRIEND GROUP AT USC.
We all have that friend who, regardless of time, distance, or obstacles, gravitates toward us. That friend who invokes cries of laughter with the simple action of prolonged eye contact. That friend who, yes, listens and doesn’t judge. Who makes silence comfortable and makes sleeping and studying seem optional because late-night talks can’t wait. Or that friend whose life is so chaotic you’re not really sure how they survive.
While yes, we are all complex, multifaceted people, we could also all label ourselves into a few archetypes. And, we all have those moments that feel ripped out from the pages of a TV script. In this piece, I wanted to capture the lives of five college friends and, in some way, the lives of all college students. I truly believe that life is only as interesting as you make it, and what’s more fun than a sitcom?
I BELIEVE WE ALL HAVE OUR OWN SITCOMS. WE’LL ALL HAVE OUR OWN SPINOFFS AND REBOOTS. WE’LL HAVE 20+ YEAR REUNION SPECIALS AND, ONCE IN A LIFETIME EPISODES.
We all have a script, undisclosed to us, which dictates the trajectory of our life.
I believe we are all the main characters of our own shows and the supporting and side characters in other people’s. And so, if we’re going to live this life on the screen, we might as well make it interesting. Might as well cast it with those special few. Might as well let it star you, and them, and let the rest of the world be your background character.
Might as well because soon enough you’ll realize those crazy chaotic “sometimes” you experienced were all the time for everyone else.
Written by Marina Parker
Photographed by Ani Karajayan
Designed by Carlee Nixon
Sitting in my local coffee shop in summer 2022, like millions of high school seniors, my hands trembled as I clicked a daunting button on my laptop. At the time, it felt like the most autonomous decision of my life – the beginning of my adulthood, the basis of my future identity, and the be-all and end-all answer to my questions.
I was going to be a business major.
As a self-proclaimed victim of “the classic gifted kid burnout nonsense,” Nolan was not always destined for a creative future.
With the business major’s notoriously light workload, I would enjoy my college experience and earn a reasonable salary post-graduation. Environmentalism was my end goal, and business was a means to accumulate power and acumen to enact change. My professional life, if riddled with pesky corporate jargon like “synergies” and “circle back,” would be stable and predictable.
Two years later, I am still a business major, but my conviction about my future isn’t sound. I go through at least a couple of existential crises each semester about whether I pressed the right button that day. Whether the basis of my bi-monthly crisis is a moral, financial, intellectual, or social dilemma, the root cause is always the same: I chose business from the standpoint of practicality, not passion.
To put some of the corporate jargon I’ve learned to use, my “opportunity cost” was low – it didn’t require much sacrifice. I don’t exactly have an all-encompassing creative pull, so my choices were always between a few pre-professional routes that would absolve me of the need to construct my own path.
Since my decision, I’ve questioned: How do some people know their passion from birth while others spend their whole lives in pursuit? What influences led each of us to our callings, and how much of that was choice? By this age, are our red threads already determined?
To get to the bottom of these questions, I interviewed three USC students who have clear red threads but fall onto different points along the spectrum of certainty about their trajectories. I wanted to know how they pinpointed their creative drives and navigated the decisions that shape their futures.
In fact, frustrated at his mandatory piano lessons as a young child, he decided to abandon music altogether. A few years later though, he picked up his Mom’s old guitar from college, and everything changed.
“I haven’t stopped ever since,” he told me. “I would have been fine not studying music if I had never figured out how much I liked it,” Nolan said. Once I learned how much I liked writing and performing, it was kind of over.”
By contrast to my decision, Nolan’s route seems mythological. He found a passion that resonated with him so irrefutably that he felt no hesitation about abandoning his former vision of his future.
“I thought I was going to be a robotics engineer until I was 14 or 15, a computer science major at Carnegie Mellon, something STEM-ish,” he explained. “Then I got to junior high, and it was like, I’m not liking math as much as I used to, and I’m really liking music. So maybe I should rethink my priorities. Now, I would love to write and perform my own music and do the whole touring artist thing. But if I end up writing music for or with other people, I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
At USC, almost all of Nolan’s closest friends are musicians, and his days revolve around rehearsals and songwriting sessions in his classes and with his cover band, The Beatles. His band simultaneously functions as a source of creative fulfillment, professional development, and social enrichment.
“I’ve written songs that I’ve cried the whole way through writing … It makes you feel so much,” Nolan said. “That’s why I love it. For all that time that I was in the dark about it, I could have been content doing computer science somewhere else, but now that I know what performing and writing are like, I can’t stop.”
Whether Nolan chose music or music chose him, his unyielding creative direction is emblematic of wholehearted devotion. Nolan is one of the lucky few for whom the decision is so clean.
Sophomore Jefferson Hernandez Segovia currently resides at the intersection of passion and practicality as a business of cinematic arts (BCA) major. BCA students complete 48 units of business courses, 24 units of cinematic arts courses, and a mandatory internship. This opportunity became attractive to Jefferson when the Oscars sparked his interest in filmmaking during his sophomore year of high school.
“I can live as many lives as I want to through my scripts,” Jefferson said. “My characters are based on my lived experiences, so being able to create characters that are journalists or doctors but reflect part of me is very special.”
Despite this pull toward screenwriting, Jefferson only applied to a film-related program at USC. Everywhere else, he selected business.
“I’m first generation, so one of the things I looked into when applying to colleges was salary,” Jefferson said. “My mom expected me to leave with a job as soon as I graduate, but the film industry is so uncertain. Will you get a job? And if you do, will that job pay you enough to make a living?”
Beyond the convoluted web of job security concerns lies the looming threat of judgment from peers.
“When I was in high school, there was such a disdain for people who went into English or creative writing instead of STEM majors,” Jefferson said. “It’s very unfortunate, because we need creative people. If we only got STEM people, everyone would talk like robots. We need new perspectives, like James Baldwin, Toni Morrison.”
While Jefferson’s classes are split between Marshall and SCA, his heart is not.
Model Austin Tovar ‘26 studies both neuroscience and psychology. His self-proclaimed red string is music as he plays piano, guitar and sings.
THE BUSINESS OF PASSION| Marina Parker
Still, when I asked where Jefferson saw himself in ten years, his preference shifted.
“If I’m being honest, I see myself working at a (talent) agency,” he said. “It’s a way to move up the ladder from the mailroom, an easy path to take rather than taking the risk of producing your own film and not making enough money, or trying to write and not selling any of your ideas. It’s hard to make it out here.”
Here, neither passion nor practicality wins the tug of war. Creative ambition drives Jefferson’s industry choice but doesn’t overpower practical pressures.
When freshman Justin Kuo’s red thread snapped, he faced the daunting task of figuring out how and whether to revive it.
“I’ve been singing since I could walk. No one forced me into it,” Justin said. “I asked my parents if I could participate in my sisters’ lessons, and it took off from there. I took individual instruction for ten years and explored music through courses, groups, and musical theater.”
coming into something that I almost left in the past,” Justin admitted. “ I’m trying to be more courageous in pursuing music opportunities, especially in an environment like Los Angeles.”
For Justin, re-immersing himself in music didn’t dilute his newer passion for advocacy. Reluctant to stray too far from either, he now looks for opportunities to weave them together.
At the end of middle school, though, Justin’s singing
“Because of vocal nodules, I had to put a hold on it throughout high school.”
Initially disoriented, Justin sought solace elsewhere. “This was during the Stop AAPI hate movement, so personal experiences growing up in a conservative suburb helped shape my viewpoints on why I needed to be more involved,” he said. “I decided to pick up Asian American advocacy.”
After finding an affinity for leadership within advocacy, Justin applied to colleges as a political science major. By the time he got to USC, though, his vocal nodules healed.
“I joined an East Asian Acapella group, and I’ve been able to express my culture to people who have never heard Chinese, Korean or Japanese music before through singing,” he said. “Also, I’ve taken courses like World Music and Music Industry that have allowed me to dive into how I can use music in my work politically and advocacy-wise.”
Rather than dwell on music opportunities lost, he credits that time for important self-discovery.
“I view fate as a coping mechanism for when things don’t go my way, and I want to look at it in a positive lens rather than a pessimistic one,” Justin said. “In that regard, I accept the idea of fate wholeheartedly. I don’t have very specific goals, and I think that’s okay. I’m learning to accept [it].”
As Justin shapes his professional pursuits, his red threads are between a choice and a calling. They’re not tangled, but they gradually become more connected and may eventually morph into one.
Despite the unwavering pulls that Nolan, Jefferson, and Justin feel, their complicated paths suggest that guiding creative passions don’t just strike like lightning, illuminating a guiding path. Rather, once they reveal themselves, they demand that you proactively carve out space in your life for them, often as they compete tirelessly with other threads.
I now realize that when I pressed the business administration button, it was never an irrevocable, definitive decision about my identity or future. Business became a thread in my life, but it is not the singular red thread for me to follow.
While conviction can take the form of Nolan’s steadfast pursuit, it also manifests itself as Jefferson’s journey, balancing creative fulfillment and responsibility, or Justin’s process of rebuilding a passion that was once diminished.
By expanding my definition of creativity beyond conventionality, I’ve learned to recognize the process of building my own red thread is an exercise of creative passion. In connecting seemingly disparate threads together in unexpected ways, I get to learn what fulfills me outside of predetermined tropes.
Perhaps the goal shouldn’t be knowing which thread is red, but making space for discovery in your life, even when the multicolored threads become tangled and unclear.
Writer Marina Parker ‘27 is currently studying as a business administration major.
EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON
Written by Aleksandra Lasek
Photographed by Fin Liu
Designed by Anushka Rane
Model Jazmine Joseph’s ‘27 favorite video game is Skyrim. She also loves yoga.
From funerals to weddings, college decisions and breakups, I am sick of people repeating the same old mantra: “It happened for a reason.” Did it? Is my life simply a predetermined rite of passage? I sure as hell hope that any minor inconvenience in my life was destiny. It was fate that my boyfriend broke up with me on my birthday, or that my dad died hours before my final exam, which was to determine my future college. Oh, but don’t worry, it happened for a reason. And in some way, it really did. Nobody really talks about what happens after you hit rock bottom.
So let me tell you.
It begins with the morning after. When everyone continues to live their daily lives, and you just can’t. The only question remaining is – what do you do now? I started writing this article two days before I was about to experience my “morning after.” I was preparing to somehow live through the 16th of February – my dad’s birthday. The first one since he passed last summer. Guess what?
You can never really prepare for a day like that. It is just a bad day. We all have those. The ones when you know it’s bad before it even begins. So, when everything piled up and got too overwhelming for a casual Sunday, I acted out. The worst part about mourning a loss is when your actions cause you to lose someone else. When your own unexplainable actions meld into relationships you wanted untouched. So what if I never went to that party which cost me that someone? What if I stayed home, watched a good episode of “Prison Break” and called it a day? Am I supposed to convince myself that this seemingly insignificant moment, a random party, would have changed the trajectory of my life as I know it? Honestly, I have been struggling to find a good answer. The what ifs and what nots slowly fill up my brain, the constant overbearing thought of why this happened. When everyone’s “it’s going to be okay” line started to feel rather monotonous and dull, I resorted to finding my answer when talking to USC students.
What I immediately found fascinating was how we’ve all found a different way to answer that question.
From destiny to circumstance to choice, we all believe in something that allows for the morning after, hitting rock bottom to become an answer rather than a question.
As far as USC goes, I found three ways in which people gaslight themselves that everything happens for a reason.
Writer Aleksandra Lasek
‘28 majors in philosophy, politics and law. She can stabilize any broken ligament with a paper towel.
EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON|
Aleksandra Lasek
After asking three people what exactly their take is on “everything happens for a reason,” I had my answer. The reason is the moment that comes later. It’s the moment when you look back and finally realize the bigger picture that has yet to come. The morning after is one big scam of uncertainty. You just sit, stare, and wait for the clarity that refuses to come when you need it most. Instead, the main point of focus should be the “one day.” That one day when you look back and realize it all made sense— each chapter, each twist in the plot, all leading to this perfect conclusion— because it led you to this moment. The “reason” in question is the meaning we put onto whatever happened and where it led us after. So that one day, you realize that it did happen for a reason, because I wouldn’t be exactly where I am right now. So yeah, the morning after sucks. But hey, it happened for a reason. At least, that’s what I tell myself. And if that’s not true, well… guess I’ll find out one day. Hopefully.
And if that doesn’t work, just use the “ok, whatever” approach I picked up from another USC student, Daniel. It is a simple tactic of trusting the process. Whatever happens, he simply accepts it.
“If there is nothing you can do about it, you might as well go with it,” he said.
“I don’t believe that. I think that whenever a sh*tty situation happens, we can learn from it, but it doesn’t mean it happened for a reason.”
His seemingly very simple, yet intricate way of thinking made me realize how we can learn to detach from the constant pressure and let ourselves just live. All the good and the bad, the precious and the messy — it doesn’t really matter why it happened because it already did. So might as well go with it. All of my overthinking, overanalyzing, and overdoing should be over. I should just let it go, lock in, and see what happens next.
But what if I am lying to myself by putting meaning to something that simply doesn’t have one? The second I even mentioned the idea that something can happen for a reason, Maddie Malo, a Thornton student, laughed.
So no, it wasn’t fate, destiny, or some higher power dictating the story of my life. It just happened. Bad things happen, good things happen, and we should just deal with them as they come. No need to overcomplicate it. Sh*t happens. Learn the lesson, move on, and take it one day at a time. No sugar coating, no forcing things to make sense— just dealing with life as it comes.
Now that I think about it, I don’t care if it’s some stupid mantra people tell themselves just to feel better. Because it does feel better. Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s false hope— maybe there’s really no difference. But the truth is, we survive by finding meaning in this mess. The idea that we can put meaning on terrible and great things to make them matter. Maybe that’s all we have control over.
Whether it’s convincing yourself that one day it’ll all make sense, sitting back and letting life play out, or simply acknowledging that sh*t happens, we all find a way to survive our own morning afters. And maybe that’s all the reason we really need.
