For the outsiders Robotic ramblings

Kate Casper o utsider Instincts

I remember it clear as day: The grass was yellowing, becoming more straw-like, and the fireflies by the creek were nowhere to be found, probably hibernating or doing whatever fireflies do when summer ends. Practice had just ended and the moms were too busy shepherding groups of girls into heavily bumper-stickered minivans to notice me shuffling around in my soccer cleats, searching for Anna’s bandaid.

Anna had mentioned that her bandaid fell off during practice and I was determined to find it, searching the sparse patches of grass, until I found the blood-crusted bandage. Proudly, I held it up high, and shouted toward the car line, “Anna! I found it!” my dad consoled me the whole way home. he didn’t shame me for picking up someone else’s used bandaid (although that was pretty gross), he just told me that it was a kind gesture and he was sorry. needless to say, I had a tumultuous relationship with soccer growing up — between those glorious parent-provided halftime oranges and end-of-season pizza parties at Fuddruckers was a lot of loneliness and humiliation. I spent water breaks collecting cones instead of socializing with the other girls, chased down teammates’ soccer balls that got booted into the creek in a desperate attempt to become a part of the clique and often got littleto-no say in choosing atrocious teams names like Team c hocolate or Team Fudge. I tried to be liked by the girls, but it seemed the harder I tried, the more “other” I felt. maybe these memories from my rec soccer days should haunt me, but today, I see them as integral parts of my o utsider origin story. on the soccer field (or more often the sidelines) was where I felt the most alone, the most “outsider,” but also, frankly, the most “me.” once you’ve been the other, you can recognize the others among you.

To my dismay, I received no praise or fanfare. Instead, the moms flashed looks of horror and disgust and in that moment, I knew I had messed up (badly).

The scene was chilling — Kate c asper, eight years old, frizzy hair tied back, size three soccer ball in one hand, bandaid in the other; Kate c asper, the last girl left in the middle of the soccer field; Kate c asper, the only one not carpooling home, the only one not sitting in a friend’s moms’ minivan, sipping on a c apri sun; Kate c asper, the o utsider.

The soccer field was where I learned to love the smell of freshly mown grass and the feeling of slipping off my sweaty shin guards after practice; it was where I learned to be a teammate, an underdog and a competitor all at once.

The truth is, once you catch a case of the “other,” you have it forever (it’s like mono, only less sexy).

You can recognize the other in the crowded house party on e ast Washington where everyone looks comfortable and loose and drunk, except for the shy girl in the corner, sipping on a coke. You can recognize the other in south dining hall when you see the boy from your first-year calculus class who always eats alone in the corner with his headphones in. You can recognize the other when your friend tells you they can’t afford the spring break trip or the house on c orby you’re signing a lease for. You can recognize the other when you ask a girl what dorm she’s in and she replies with “oh, I’m a smick.” because I was that girl.

There are o utsiders everywhere.

We are the o utsiders.

We are the kids who don’t fit in with the guys in our section. We are the kids who don’t drink. We are the kids who fumble around the notre dame introduction. We are the kids who have no idea what we’re doing after graduation. We are the kids who aren’t white or aren’t straight or aren’t rich.

We are all “other” at some point, so we might as well be “other” together.

That’s why the name of this column is “o utsider Instincts,” because I want these 800 words every two weeks to speak to the o utsiders, to speak to all of us. I want to speak to the first-year girl who eats dinner alone every night on the phone with Libby and JT because she’s struggling to make friends. I want to speak to the girl who picked up Anna’s bandaid.

And I’m going to hold onto her so tight because she was trying, and she was beautiful even in her “otherness.”

Kate Casper (aka, Casper, Underdog or Jasmine) is from Northern Virginia, currently residing in Breen-Phillips Hall. She strives to be the best waste of your time. You can contact her at kcasper@nd.edu

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Observer.

Jack Sirianni The notre dame nitty-Gritty

The past couple of weeks have been accompanied by a wave of hysteria, cuteness or capitalism, depending on who you ask. As this modern fleet races across campus at its maximum speed of four miles per hour, students and faculty alike have been even faster to form strong opinions on our new automated friends. The dominant opinions and views of these new gadgets are told through the following perspectives.

Lawful Good

To the type-A, straight-laced notre dame student, who enjoys obeying the rules and always walks on the right side of the sidewalks to class, these robots are a welcome addition to campus. In the day-to-day of their do-gooder life, they always go out of their way to fix a robot that may have fallen or avoid one who is busy on an errand. Just like the hit disney film “Wall-e,” they find the new robots charming and sweet as they follow their command loyalty to a fault. If this sounds like you, in your eyes, the starship robots are the cutest thing to ever grace the paths of this campus and each sighting of one doing anything is like watching an 80-lb plastic puppy with wheels. With each errand they complete, the robots have a silly little trot because of their uneven wheels making them look like a toddler learning to walk. To you, this cuteness extends to the robots’ resting position where groups of them will just sit together huddled for warmth. You may have even gone as far as naming them fun pet names like sparky — or Flash for a robot who gets your food to you quickly.

Chaotic Good

This is the type of person whose moral compass is just a little bit skewed and who is not afraid to interfere slightly with the diligent robots. This type of individual can often be found cutting in the dining hall salad line or eating at the LaFun Taco bell before 11 p.m. on a weekend. While not evil, these actions are certainly chaotic.

If this sounds like something you would do, you are probably also the type of person who enjoys stepping in front of the robots in order to watch them divert their course. You enjoy the harmless fun of watching them panic for a split second and then suddenly brake to avoid you. While you enjoy the robots, you feel like it is your personal duty and pleasure to prank, tease or disorient them.

True Neutral

This group is a truly rare breed among notre dame students, the individual who is truly neutral in robotgate 2023. This person uses the starship robots, but neither pets them nor tries to push them over when using them. In your eyes, these new pearly white automatons are just another figure moving on the sidewalk next to you.

To you, the whole debate over these may even seem pointless and amusing. If this sounds like you, congratulations on avoiding the polarized and partisan nature of our times by rising above it all.

Lawful Evil

This type of notre dame student is the traditionalist who despises the robots for bringing their futuristic lights and cameras to the naturally pristine campus of the University. This individual can often be found walking around the lake tearing up to the “rudy” soundtrack and at the Grotto right before their accounting exam.

If this sounds like you, the primary concern you have is that the historic campus of notre dame is being polluted with the blinking lights and the confused driving of these clunky robots. While you would never go out of your way to harm or confuse a Grubhub robot, you’re angry that someone who lives in stanford hall would order Flip Kitchen with a robot to avoid the walk.

If you are a traditionalist like this, you may have already let your voice be heard by signing the manifesto contra robota petition on change.org to oppose the robots. This petition with 371 signees as of Feb. 19 states that “the robots represent an inappropriate commercialization and privatization of the notre dame campus.” The supporters of this petition claim that the robots will play into the consumerism of notre dame students and that they could even force “the first step in a slippery slope to AI’s domination over mankind.”

Chaotic Evil

This type of notre dame student is the sworn enemy of the starship robots as they will stop at nothing to see that these loyal helpers do not make it to their destination. notre dame students like this will on occasion let their intrusive thoughts get the best of them. This anarchist is often tempted to tip the robots over and even commit a crime as diabolical as stealing the food inside. If this sounds like you, your opposition to these robots has gone too far. You may be tempted or coerced to help a friend corner one of the robots and laugh as it struggles to escape.

My Opinion

While the opinions of our new friends on campus can vary drastically from person to person, I find myself torn among them. I love the cute little trot of the robots as they crisscross campus and I believe they need googly eyes and names. however, I am frustrated every time their bright lights interrupt my peaceful night walk or they jut out in front of my bike while I am hustling to class late. If this is the way that the future of technology will unfold at notre dame and the world at large, so be it, but for the time being, I find it hysterical that some students are relating these robots to AI world domination. I absolutely could live without the robots and I question if this is where the University could best be spending its time and resources. however, I believe they could be a fun service that quickly becomes a part of the culture on campus. Whether you find yourself getting food delivered from a robot every day or cannot stand the sight of the six-wheeled monstrosities, our new friends seem to be staying at notre dame.

Jack Sirianni is a sophomore studying political science, journalism and public policy. He is a proud Michigander who appreciates jamming to Pete Seeger, scouring eBay for vintage Notre Dame paraphernalia and collecting stickers from everywhere he goes. On campus, Jack can often be seen by the Founder’s Monument or in the line for Southwest Salad. For your favorite tidbits of knowledge or any other musings, his inbox is always open at jsirian2@nd.edu.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Observer.

By ANGELA MATHEW manager of Talent and Inclusion.

Anne c arson, who will be visiting to speak on campus on Wednesday and Thursday this week, is a c anadian poet, translator and professor. h er writing often includes literary allusions, especially from ancient Greek and Latin works. s eeing posters for her “ h istory of s kywriting” talk all around campus, I didn’t think I had ever heard of her before. Without realizing it, however, I had been encountering her work for months — on Twitter.

I don’t use Twitter much, except to lurk. I enjoy following accounts that post pretentious analyses of b ollywood films, errors in The n ew York Times’ word games, or people who have interesting careers in journalism or academia. As I have given the algorithm more knowledge and ability to divine things I would find interesting, the site shows me curated tweets liked by people I follow. This leads me to adjacent interests like American politics tweets I vaguely understand and the pop culture argument du jour.

A genre of accounts that the algorithm swayed me to follow was ‘literary bots’. Unlike their more exciting cousins like artificial intelligence bots, these bots on Twitter are far more rudimentary and are just automated accounts that post quotes from certain authors or books, every few hours. Though I struggle to make time to read for pleasure, this was a way to delude myself into convincing myself that I can still claim to be ‘a reader’. o ne of the accounts I stumbled upon was the ‘anne carson bot’ and I was taken by the intriguing simplicity of the quotes though I had no context for which of c arson’s work they were from. I would like these tweets from time to time, a halfhearted attempt to bookmark some of c arson’s phrases. b ut after these glittering milliseconds of inspiration, I would go back to my mindless scrolling, never taking the time to try and understand what she meant. r eading “The Glass e ssay”, I was struck by the similarities between the moor in n orthern c anada where the poem is set and how winter on campus can feel at times — ‘paralyzed with ice’ and like ‘dregs of snow scarred by pine filth. As the woman in the poem goes on reflective walks and sees ‘ice that has begun to unclench’ and ‘black open water that curdles like anger’ reminds me of how the lakes can seem at once serene and menacing. c arson uses more subtle winter imagery as well which reflects the poem’s themes of darkness and grief. When recalling the onset of her father’s dementia, the narrator says “it came to me like a slow avalanche that he had no idea who he was talking to.” s he continues, “his voice pressed into the silence and broke off, snow falling on it.”

This embodies why people love and hate social media, I think. We have so much access to other information and portals to other wonderlands, but the abundance means we rarely end up diving into anything deeply.

This past weekend in preparation for c arson’s visit and this piece, I attempted to break out of this. I went to a local bookstore (that I’d been meaning to visit for two years) and picked up a copy of “Glass, Irony and God”. The 1995 collection contains c arson’s “The Glass e ssay”, a 36page poem that follows a woman grieving lost love while contemplating the b ritish author e mily b rontë’s career.

As I wait for spring in s outh b end, I loved the line “I could dip my hand down into time and scoop up blue and green lozenges of April heat a year ago in another country.” As the narrator feels nostalgic about times with her lost love the year before she says poignantly, “I can feel that day running under this one like an old videotape.”

As I read “The Glass e ssay”, I’ve been trying to just enjoy its lyricism without getting bogged down by the imagery from “Wuthering h eights” that I don’t understand. I’ve also enjoyed reading the interpretations of people like this e nglish professor who re-read “The Glass e ssay” every day for a month to make sense of her life after a breakup. I don’t think I could read anything every day for a month, but I’m sure I’ll find a happy medium. Until then, I’ll stick to the quick literary hits my Twitter bots serve me.

Contact Angela Mathew at amathew3@nd.edu

By JANE MILLER s cene Writer

The second floor of h esburgh library is great and all, but I think it’s safe to say that we can all use some variety in our study spots every now and then. s o, I’ve compiled a list of some of the best spots on campus so that you don’t have to endure the trials of finding a new place to work.

Remick Family Hall

As Lady Gaga once said: “Amazing. s howstopping. s pectacular.” r ight by the dome, this cozy spot is equipped with a free supply of candy and snacks, as well as coffee and tea. The main room on the first floor of the building is a great place to work if you like a quiet environment. There are plenty of tables and comfy chairs to sit in. Imagine reading room vibes but with more natural light and free snacks.

Jordan Hall of Science

While dozens of students come in and out of Jordan every day, few of them visit one of the greatest study spots on campus. h idden at the end of the hallway on the first floor, towards the right, there is a beautiful room with a high, dome-like ceiling. Tall windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling of each wall make this a great place to study during the day. This is also a great spot if you need peace and quiet to work. h owever, if you’d like to talk, there is a more social room further left from the end of the hall.

Decio Faculty Hall

If you’ve ever been to d ecio c afe for lunch, you’ll know that it’s an awesome spot for lunch wraps and sandwiches. h owever, you may not know that d ecio is also a great spot for studying. The second floor has lots of tables and comfy chairs for working. The spots are usually well-lit with natural light during the day due to lots of windows, but it’s a good spot to work in at night as well.

Geddes Hall

Geddes h all, home to the c enter for s ocial c oncerns, is a great spot to fall back on when the library is overflowing with students. r ight next to the library, Geddes houses a variety of tables and booths, good for both quiet and collaborative work. It also has a decent amount of empty conference rooms that you can book or work in when they’re empty.

Corbett Family Hall

r ight by d uncan s tudent c enter, c orbett is a great spot that you can always count on to have an open seat. The second floor, home to the department of anthropology, has an open living-room-type area with couches and a few small tables for working. It is usually not a very busy spot, so if you come here with a friend you can talk or work quietly. The other floors of c orbett are great as well, with an array of small tables, comfy chairs and couches for working.

Pro tip: o n the second floor, there is usually a bowl of candy outside one of the classrooms.

Fifth Floor of Duncan Student Center

Up the elevator on the fifth floor of d uncan is one of the calmest places to study on campus. s eated in one of the windows overlooking campus, you can catch a glimpse of the golden dome while you work. There is often jazz music playing on a low volume, which in my case was never distracting, however, if you’re worried, bring a pair of noise-canceling headphones. It’s a major upgrade from the buzz of students convening by c hick-Fil-A and the upbeat pop music blaring over the speakers at h agerty.

Contact Jane Miller at jmille95@nd.edu