There are a lot of things we don’t know — or bother to find out — about the people we bump into every day. They become background characters in our lives, undeveloped extras. But imagine the things you’d discover if you sat them down for a conversation. Maybe your mechanic is devoted to ballet; the girl who sits next to you on the bus is actually a math savant; that librarian at Knight might be related to Matt Damon. Or perhaps the guy checking out your groceries at Safeway happens to be one of the best funk drummers in Eugene.

Sam Fox Hayward is a cashier at the Safeway store on 18^th and Pearl, working on moving up to customer service. However, on Tuesdays and Thursdays he attends Lane Community College, studying audio engineering. And as often as he can fit it in, Hayward is practicing with his band, Soul Vibrator.

I asked Hayward about the band name. He chuckles. “There’s the obvious sexual implication there and that’s usually what a lot of people try to focus on, as opposed to the concept of vibrating souls with music.”

Hayward has been vibrating souls for a while. He’s had an extensive background of music growing up. His parents being “wanna-be Dead Heads” back in the ’60s, he was raised surrounded by music. “Grateful Dead’s in there, The Beatles are in there, Bob Dylan, Neil Young…” The list went on. Safe to say he’s had a wide spectrum of music present for as long as he can remember.

I spoke with Hayward for a while about the band’s recent tour following the release of their album. “It was crazy being on the road … it’s hard to spend ten days with anyone … But as far as seven people to do that with, you know, I could see myself living with any of these guys.” Hayward has been with the band since August 2013, and he’s only gotten closer to what appears to be an infinitely multiplying group of dudes.

Hayward talked passionately about their ambitions as a band, “We are constantly pushing for bigger opportunities.” But for the time being, they’re taking what they can get. “Anywhere from dive bars to, uh, we played a Mexican restaurant.”

But the band is only a piece of the Sam Fox Hayward puzzle. “There’s three healthy thirds of my life. Well, I guess four…There’s school, work at Safeway, work with the band, and then seeing my lovely girlfriend.” Hayward struggled with motivation in school initially; it just wasn’t something he wanted to be doing. We talked about his regrets over that and the way he handled it with his parents. “I didn’t want to be in school but I was too afraid to tell my parents … being honest would have been the best option.”

The balance in our school and work lives, between what we are passionate about and what we “have” to do, is something everybody struggles with. It’s a tough balance, but a necessary one in order to stay happy while keeping a roof over your head. Hayward summed it up eloquently. “My biggest anxiety is to find a way to reconcile my passions whilst making a living.”

Perhaps Safeway isn’t Hayward’s dream job, but it is a job. It’s a steady place of work with people who treat him well and are flexible regarding the schedule of a musician. Hayward has been there five years, and it doesn’t sound like he intends on leaving anytime soon. “There’s things that could be worse…I ain’t flipping burgers.”

My final, and frankly my deepest, curiosity was the rocking tuft of hair residing over Hayward’s upper lip. “I tried to celebrate a birthday party for it, his name is Javier … November 1, Javier is gonna have a third birthday, hopefully.”

Hayward left me with one final piece of wisdom to include: “My advice for any men who wish to have a moustache – don’t let anybody tell you it looks nasty; don’t let anybody tell you it looks gross, keep rolling with it. It’ll get bushy, it’ll get there.”

Whether he’s bagging up tomorrow evening’s dinner or locking down the rhythm section, I’ve got faith that Sam Fox Hayward will keep rolling with it as well.

A girl steps up to the hot dog stand on the northeast corner of Kincaid Street and 13th Avenue, and asks if she can pay with a debit card.

Robert James-Alexander Hamilton pulls out a hot dog and with a big smile explains that he doesn’t take cards, but she can just pay him back.

Hamilton runs the stand, One Bad Dawg, and across the street on the Duck Store flies a banner: “Heroes aren’t defined by their victories.”

I first encountered Hamilton on that corner. It was one of those rare sunny spring days, and Hamilton, 30, was relaxing near the stand, having sold out of hot dogs earlier that day.

“I’ll give you the Cliff Notes,” he said, grinning.

Hamilton spent his childhood in Inglewood, California. His parents were firm — they pushed Hamilton and his brothers to succeed.

“My dad, when I did math homework,” Hamilton said. “… if I had eraser marks on my paper, he’d rip it up. ‘Do it over.’”

The reinforced ambition stuck, and not just in school. Hamilton also succeeded on the gridiron.

“Soon as they hike the ball it’s me and the quarterback,” Hamilton said. “No one else is back there. I grabbed his facemask, I didn’t know what to do. I let him go, he rushes for like 20 yards. Coach pulls me outta the game … 17-year-old me is like ‘Coach, is it supposed to be that easy?’”

Hamilton worked hard on and off the field, his only goal: Get out of Inglewood.

He did exactly that when the University of Oregon Athletic Department offered him a full-ride scholarship to play football in 2002.

Don Pellum, the linebacker coach during Hamilton’s recruitment, was struck by Hamilton’s appearance in film and was further taken with his personality when they met.

“That was Rob, his smile, the person that he is, a warm person,” said Pellum, now the Ducks’ defensive coordinator.

Shortly after, Hamilton came to Oregon as a linebacker. He started training immediately.

“I didn’t know anything about (being a) linebacker when I came here,” Hamilton said. “And I studied my butt off.”

In practice, before the season began, Hamilton tore his left ACL. He spent his 18th birthday at Sacred Heart Hospital. But Hamilton wasn’t going to let it stop him — soon he was back on the field.

“When Don Pellum said, ‘Robert Hamilton, next play.’ … That’s all there needs to be,” Hamilton said. “The next play I was up and I got in the game. And that’s all that mattered right there.”

However, within a year Hamilton tore his other ACL.

“He was down, but he got better and came back out,” Pellum said. “The second ACL was devastating.”

In January 2005, head coach Mike Bellotti told Hamilton that his injuries wouldn’t allow him to remain on the team.

He graduated from UO in 2007 with an ethnic studies degree, and two years of experience working with Primerica, a Eugene-based counseling service which helps families gain financial independence.

“I feel like he’s always had three jobs,” said Ryan Holder, owner of Cheba Hut at 339 E. 11th Ave. Holder hired Hamilton seven years ago, shortly after they met. “He asked me for a job here at Cheba Hut and I threw him on there without a doubt.”

Hamilton has been a bartender at Rennie’s for six years — a job he found through Sarah Thompson, a close friend who also worked there.

“He’s super charismatic, he’s really friendly, he’s kind, he’s polite,” Thompson said. “He’s the kind of person you want to work with … Rob’s definitely special, for sure.”

But Hamilton doesn’t consider his jobs to be work.

“I haven’t worked in like eight years,” Hamilton said. “I just get paid for shit I like.”

How does he have time for it all? His response was that there are 24 hours in a day, and he naps when he needs to.

The stand is a recent venture — one that comes with its own verb coined by Hamilton’s friends: ‘RobDogginIt’.

Hamilton’s story might sound tragic to the outside ear – football player turned hot dog slinger, athletic aspirations torn down in a twist of fate.

“Most people, when you put that much time or effort into an activity, it begins to define you,” said Daniel Kim, an old coworker and friend. “When you lose the ability to do that, most people would react to that very poorly… I’d be confused, I’d be bitter, jaded. He lost scholarships, he went to multiple surgeries, and he’s still so happy.”

Kim lit up when he spoke about the way Hamilton’s positivity changed his life for the better.

“He never feels sorry for himself, he’s never having a bad day, that’s one thing I respect about him the most,” Kim said.

When Kim had a bad day at work, when he was having problems with a girl, Hamilton would always have one piece of advice — walk it out.

Perhaps it seems strange to seek all this success in Eugene, but Hamilton disagrees.

“I can have that brand,” Hamilton said. “Some people know me from football, some know me from Dutch Bros, some know me from when I was sweeping floors at Taylor’s, some know me from Rennie’s, some know me from when I worked at Fathoms, some know me from when I worked at Side Bar … I cut hair too.”

For Hamilton, it’s always been about the people you meet, not what you’re doing when you meet them.

“I have so much room for improvement,” Hamilton said. “I feel like I haven’t even accomplished that much. It’s early.”

Although his family remains in California, Hamilton keeps them close.

“My dad wants to come out here and run the hot dog stand in the summer,” Hamilton said.  “This is my international headquarters, man.”

The stand is something he looks forward to passing down to a family of his own, when the time comes.

After my first meeting with Hamilton, I left the stand with more stories and follow-up questions than I knew what to do with — his presence seemed impossible to capture in words.

For a man who spends his days slinging hot dogs, his story is complex.

This uncertainty must have shown on my face.

“I believe in you, man!” Hamilton called after me.

With Hamilton’s shout of encouragement ringing in my ears, the words over the Duck Store seemed to beam a little bolder.

“Heroes aren’t defined by their victories.”

The theoretical deserted island is a classic conundrum. You’re stranded and alone, no signs of life – but you can bring one thing with you. What do you take? Maybe you bring a picture, for its sentimental value. Perhaps it’s a fire starting kit, for its practical value. Whether it’s useful or emotionally charged, it’s easy to think first of a material object.

It could be the phrasing of the question, but I’ve never heard of a friend joining the hypothetical castaway in isolation. It seems odd that as people so reliant on interpersonal relationships we wouldn’t put another person high on the list of “to bring” items.

I see this choice as one we make subconsciously. Not because we aren’t reliant on relationships in our day-to-day lives, but because when given the choice between spending all our time with one person or with no one, I think many would choose to live lonely on that island – and I might not disagree.

At first glance, bringing a companion seems like the right choice. Someone to watch your back in the woods, help find food and maybe most importantly, someone to keep you company. But I’m not so sure that two humans are capable of living in harmony. Anyone who has spent a year in a college dormitory knows that. Getting along and coming out of the situation able to bear each other’s company is a feat. We’re a social people, but very different from one another. Whether it’s with a stranger or your closest friend, too much interaction isn’t a good thing.

But living with yourself can be just as difficult. As social as we are, it’d be impossible to just live in silence, even if there was no one to talk to. As odd as it may initially feel, you’d probably end up talking to yourself.

In Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character is stranded on an island with an assortment of random objects. One of these is a volleyball, which he names Wilson. The volleyball becomes his only companion on the island.

Hanks’ conversations with the ball end up being the most interesting and almost the only interactions in the film. The volleyball is really only a second Hanks. It’s an outlet for him to imagine a companion. The emptiness of the inanimate object is filled in by Hanks’ own personality.

In the film, a few of these interactions appear as arguments between Hanks and his silent companion, but in reality it is Hanks trying to justify it to his efforts to leave.

We’ve all got different sides to ourselves. What might be most interesting about living alone on an island would be to see those sides come out. In daily society, we say different things, take different actions and determine how we feel comfortable acting through trial and error.

Alone on an island, there would be no encouragement or discouragement of these aspects of personality, so it’s impossible to say which “you” would become dominant and why. However, it does seem likely that different sides would emerge, maybe pieces of yourself that aren’t normally prominent.

Isolation isn’t a natural condition for us, and it takes a strange toll on our minds and the construction of our personalities. We build ourselves to fit into the society we live in. The removal of that environment would put any person at wit’s end. That kind of seclusion isn’t a situation I could see myself coming out of as the same person, so I expect the same of Tom Hanks or anyone else.

I’m not sure what I would bring with me to a deserted island, whether I’d rather work to live successfully with another person or try to make it out sane on my own. It would be difficult either way. When it really comes down to it, I think I might just bring my dog.

“Safety first” continues to be one of my dad’s favorite lines. It didn’t stop me from keeping a bicycle helmet off my head for most of my early life.  I grew up in a pretty small town, I didn’t know anyone who’d had a major accident on a bicycle and I figured if I was only biking up to the store there wasn’t any point. Since my arrival in Eugene two years ago I’ve spent a fair portion of my day to day time on a bicycle. Until a few weeks ago I did so without any head protection.

I probably spent a cumulative thirty minutes a day on my bike. Some of that time is spent navigating wide empty walkways, a relatively safe situation. But the real majority of my time on the bicycle is on the streets between my apartment, south of campus, heading to daily classes. This route involves cycling down University Street and the three way intersection next to the Rec, a regular Bermuda Triangle of foot and vehicle traffic.

Between bikers flying through, cars barely stopping or whipping out of parking spaces, and the pedestrians of Eugene who saunter across without a glance either way, this intersection at midday is the trickiest part of my venture. Keeping all of this in mind while also trying not to be late for class can often feel like navigating a labyrinth of obstacles. Obviously the best way to protect your skull is to avoid landing on it at all, but regardless of how careful you are busy intersections like this one can be incredibly and unavoidably dangerous.

The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety has a plethora of statics on the dangers of unprotected cycling. They report that not only are the majority of cyclist death the result of head injuries but that wearing a helmet reduces the odds of those injuries by an estimated eighty five percent. The numbers on this subject are pretty much indisputable. Unfortunately I don’t think that in this case statistics serve to convince anyone. I’d be shocked to find a cyclist unaware that a helmet could save their life. The statistics confirm only what we already know. That you are significantly safer cycling with a helmet than without. But safety hasn’t always come first in life, even when it should, so it may take more than a study to convince the cyclists of Eugene.

Eugene is a town full of college students who don’t cycle with helmets, and that in itself actually creates a huge barrier. It’s a situation of passive and standardized peer pressure that normalizes something really dangerous. A close friend recently had a significant collision on his bicycle that had him coming back to consciousness on the sidewalk. Luckily, he was wearing a helmet. I’d rather not think about the alternative had he not been.

It took a personal story like this to convince me. It was enough to make me step back and take a look at this bicycle heavy town full of people who spend large portions of their day putting the most important piece of their body at risk. It also made me take a look at my motivation for being one of these people. I asked myself if any of these motivations outweighed the idea of being in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, or worse. Turns out they don’t.

Breaking habits is difficult, particularly lifelong habits. Every time I get in a car I put on my seatbelt, it’s second nature. Leaving my helmet next to my bike is a start, but wearing it has yet to become as natural as the seatbelt. But I’m working on it. Because I want to wake up if the unexpected happens.

The post Green: Safety first, protect your head appeared first on Emerald Media.

Thirteen percent of the student population at the University of Oregon is international students. Of that 13 percent, China, Korea, Japan, and Taiwan are in the top five countries of origin. I find that this significant portion of our student body that comes from that area of the world is often overlooked by us natives of the States. The divide between our differing cultures as social groups is something we see day to day on campus.

Although every country in that part of the world is very distinct and diverse, we perceive their citizens in similar ways here. Part of this comes from the fact that all international students struggle with many of the same problems acclimating to our country’s culture, most prominently language barriers.

Language makes up a large part of the divide between American students and Asian international students. None of the languages originating from these countries bear any resemblance in writing or speaking to any that first language English speakers are accustomed to, and that in itself seems to present enough of a barrier to keep these groups socially separated. But this barrier is a choice, and more importantly, we’re doing these international students a disservice by allowing this severance.

“I feel like American people avoid me because I don’t speak English,” said Sangtiyun Jang, 27. For over two years Jang has been in the United States and he currently attends the university pursuing a degree in finance. For those of us linguistically challenged by his given name, he also goes by Jay. He explained that although many Korean students at the school stick together socially, he makes it a point to avoid that. “We came here to learn English and to learn a different culture, but if we hang out with Koreans in United States, that’s the same thing as if I lived in Korea.”

Jay considers his time in the United States a privilege. We spoke at length about how his travels around the US far overshadow my own, despite having spent my whole life in this country. He is taking advantage of the limited opportunity to experience a culture so different from the one in which he was raised, something I believe people our age can really benefit from. However, this can be difficult if that culture won’t let him in. Luckily, he’s found a place that has. We spoke about how in Oregon, and Eugene specifically, he’s found a community of more open minded people. Jay said that he feels comfortable in Eugene and the laid back nature of its inhabitants, but that isn’t the case everywhere.

“[Eugene has been] better than other cities,” Kyong Min Nam, 21, said. Nam, who goes by Julie, is another Korean student studying here in Eugene. She’s been in the United States a little less than a year and is currently enrolled in an English language learning program at Lane Community College. We spoke about her more recent experiences struggling with language barriers. “Usually Americans cannot understand my English,” she said.

Luckily, she has a guide of sorts. “[My roommate] can’t understand my English, not at all,” Nam said. Despite this, the two live together and enjoy each others company. This was the most interesting part of my interview with Julie. It showed that language is only as far of a barrier as you allow it to be. Genuine human connection is universal.

Obviously all students in college have good and bad experiences. But, based on these conversations, the inability to speak English fluently contributes to the bad. I don’t think that has to be the case. It sounds like the Eugene community is working in the right direction, but we can do better. Our country has no official language– it’s important to remember that.

Symbolically, we are a nation composed of other nations. This unique foundation is meaningless if we don’t embrace diversity. We aren’t united as a country by a language, but by a desire to be here and improve – and to make this place something we can all be proud of.

The post Green: Welcome to Oregon appeared first on Emerald Media.

I often think about what I’m getting out of my education aside from information. As a double major in theater and journalism, I don’t have the firmest grasp on what it means to have “the right answer,”  mostly because the questions I’m asking don’t have one.

A lot of what I learn daily is about relationships and human interactions, not certain figures and equations. Obviously this isn’t the case for every department. Thinking in these different ways in the classroom conditions us to do so outside of it as well.

I spoke with teachers and students regarding these scenarios: a close friend in need of a major loan on uncertain terms and a phone call from a friend going through a tough split with a partner. I wanted to get an idea of what the process is behind problem solving these scenarios for people with such differing day to day lives.

“Drama classes instantly became a community for me,” Zeina Salame, a second year graduate student in the theater department said. “Of all the pieces of my education it is the piece that has prepared me the most.” Salame spoke about the way theater keeps her on her toes, giving her an ability to anticipate problems before they occur and deal with them when they do.

When it came to the hypothetical loan, Salame was entirely focused on the relationship. “If it was my sister I would give her everything,” she said. It was clear she was less concerned with the amount than to whom she was handing it to.

“I have a business take on life now,” Alexander Tushner, a second year undergraduate majoring in business administration, said. “I find it fascinating that everything in life has to go through a process, starting as an idea,” he continued. He spoke to the way that he’s learned to take every single detail seriously, in his academics and in his personal life:“I break people down more, try to understand them.”

Tushner’s response to the idea of a major loan was the rational one you might expect from someone with a business mindset, “You need to figure out why. Is there any way we can fix this? … You’ve got to talk it out.” Both of Tushner’s responses were rooted in logical reasoning.

“I never stop learning,” said John Schmor, the department head for theater arts. He was clear that his work as a teacher was only to guide, not a platform on which to force ideas: “I think acting is the best way to enlarge a person’s compassion for difference. You’re placing yourself in an imaginary situation that isn’t yours.” On a more introspective level for the students, acting is about constantly striving to be more defined as your own character. “Don’t go on stage unless you’re going to bring your mess with you. I’m not interested in your best self,” Schmor said.

Schmor’s answer to how he’d respond to a friend going through a separation was an immediate extension of support. He replied, “I’d say bring the kids and come stay at my place.”

Nicole Johnson, an accounting professor with a PhD from Stanford University spoke about a more direct style of teaching. “In my class I focus a lot on how to think rigorously on making decisions, whether it’s a personal decision or a financial decision,” Johnson said. She’s aware that accounting wasn’t a passion of every student who came through her class, but she was very clear that there was a lot more than crunching numbers taught in the process.

Johnson’s response to the question of a loan was internalized and thoughtful. For someone close, she knew it could create a difficult situation. She suggested writing the amount off as charity in her mind, regardless of any claim to it being a loan. That way, she wouldn’t be pestered by the idea of an unpaid debt. “I think it’s important how you frame it for yourself,” she said.

Even after speaking with these brilliant individuals, it’s difficult to pull any solid ideas about the affects of work in a field on a personality. There are so many factors in a person’s life, who is to say whether a degree shaped them or the way they were, shaped their choice of degree.

I remain unsure what a degree in theater versus one in business really does to change students as people, one thing was very clear: that regardless of what you’re studying, you’re learning a lot more than you think.

The post Green: Your major may sway your outlook on problem solving appeared first on Emerald Media.

The joy of a Friday is universal. There isn’t a feeling in the world like the feeling of a Friday afternoon at the end of a hard week. We work all week for that shared sigh of relief and the few short days that follow. The weekends represent a brief reprieve from our burdens as students of higher education. For many this means a two night festival of drunken debauchery. For others it’s a few quiet nights with close friends.

Daniel Bautista is a junior at UO and a human physiology major that plans to attend medical school after finishing his degree at Oregon. He’s a firm supporter of the weekend, but as a pre-med student doesn’t always get the chance to enjoy them. I talked with him a little about this conflict. “It sucks when you hear outside people are raging and you’re just doing your homework. That’s a common thing for everyone … it doesn’t bother me, if anything I wish I was right there with them.”

We all balance these two lifestyles in different ways; I spoke with Bautista about his strategy. “Whatever I’m doing is working because I made it this far… It’s all about priorities. I do want to become a doctor one day.” Putting that first is important. Everyone is just trying to relieve some stress on the weekend, but sometimes it’s difficult to prevent this from spilling over into the week. Bautista hails from Southern California and has spent time at renowned party schools like CSU Chico and UC Santa Barbara. But those schools have a different sense of what comes first. He described how at Oregon, the weekend events feel more like a past time than a priority. “People all have their groups, their house parties, their ragers. But you don’t walk down the street and see a couch or a mattress on fire.”

With his chosen career path, Bautista knows better than anyone that school comes first. But we were on the same page on another note: that college isn’t just about education; it’s a social experience and a crucial one for people our age. If you can find a moment of relief between midterms to look at the people around you, you’ll realize you’re meeting the people that you’ll stay in touch with for the rest of your life.

This comradery is important; it isn’t just about the alcohol. Separate from the lifestyle of the more party centric college towns, Bautista spoke to the more laid back and diverse ways that the people of Eugene enjoy themselves. “If you have free time the last thing you want is to be stuck at home. But you don’t have to go out partying. Because we have so much more to offer, not everyone here is into partying.” Eugene is a full and thriving town even besides the college environment, which provides an escape if you need to get away. But even if the college nightlife is your game, it isn’t without variety. Bautista talked at length and with passion about how every bar in the area has a different personality, how even if you’re just looking to get drunk you’ve got a hundred ways to do it.

But a party can be a stress relief whether you’re partaking in the aforementioned debauchery or not. It’s about the community. Our weekend gatherings are a social outlet we can all take advantage of, because you won’t always live this close to 20,000 people in the same stage of life as you. There’s a commonality among us as students, one thing we can all bond over, we’ve all got stress. It’s an underlying theme behind every shot and every stupid idea, but we don’t have to talk about it. It’s enough that we’re together, and each relieving a little of it however we need to. And we do need to, because regardless of our differing studies and complicated lives, nobody in the room is looking forward to Monday.

If you’re reading this and your cell phone is more than ten feet away from you, you’re among the minority.

Imagine you’re in the doctor’s office, or waiting for an interview, or even outside a class before it starts and you reach for your cell phone. It’s that hand-held safety blanket. It gives you an outlet to social interaction that doesn’t require more effort than lifting your thumbs. It often feels like a life saver in uncomfortable situations, but it’s the easy way out and it’s important we realize that.

As with any revolutionary piece of technology, the cell phone went from nonexistent to household in a short time span. In its most basic form, it gives you instant contact with the entire world, and with smart phones, even more so. This is not inherently a bad thing. It’s completely changed the world, and the ways in which cell phone technology positively affect our lives probably do outweigh the negatives. This is not an argument against cell phones, only a petition to consider how and when we use them.

I spoke with Veronika Jonsson, a fifth year architecture student at the UO. Last November she spent a month without a cell phone, and the experience impacted her in unexpected ways. She didn’t describe it like a month without a TV or a car, but more like a month with a broken leg and no crutch. Jonsson saw it as an opportunity to reevaluate herself and her relationships and she realized a lot during the experience.

“You don’t have something to check all the time to assure you that you’re important or to assure you that someone out there wants you, needs you, or is there for you,”  she said.

The constant communication conditions us to need the affirmation that we aren’t alone. But that’s the real issue that we’ve forgotten: it’s alright to be alone. The constant stimulus of the smart phone generates reaction after reaction from us all day, and it hinders self-awareness. As Jonsson aptly put it,“You’re constantly engaging with others and not necessarily with yourself and how you feel.”

Of course we should be connected to others, empathy is a wonderfully human trait. In contrast, the connections we maintain over text message and Facebook aren’t real human interaction but are instead meticulously manufactured.

Rereading a text six times before you send it is cheating, and as a result we lose the imperfection of personal interaction. It’s flawed and it can be difficult, but physically connecting with a person in the moment isn’t a feeling that can be recreated through a device. “I’ve always preferred face to face. I always prefer seeing them,” said Jonsson.

It isn’t just the preexisting relationships that we are affecting, however. We’re more disconnected from strangers than we have ever been.

As a generation, constant cell interaction makes us aloof, to the point that we live in our own worlds. “It’s harder to broach people or to break that barrier. I can’t remember the last time I just said hello to a stranger,” said Jonsson.

It’s easy to find something in common with the other guy in the waiting room, if you make the effort to approach him. We may not all live similar lives, but we’re all people. This innate commonality is fascinating, and it’s something we should cherish.

The art of the conversation is being lost. Oftentimes people are visibly uncomfortable when you strike up a conversation. They are so unaccustomed to speaking with someone unknown that they go out of their way to avoid it. Those are missed opportunities.

Every single one of us has a complex and completely unique story, and sometimes we forget that. Caring about all the other thoughts and feelings around us isn’t easy, but it’s worth trying.

Maybe the next time you’re waiting outside class, ask the tired looking girl in front of you how her day has been. Show someone that you care about their life enough to put down your phone, and speak with a stranger.

To critical acclaim, Frank premiered at the Sundance Film Festival last year. The film stars Michael Fassbender as the title character, the phenomenally talented and charming singer for a band with an unpronounceable name.

Frank wears a paper-mache mask, and hasn’t taken it off as long as anyone can remember, representative of a crippling social anxiety that becomes more and more apparent as the film goes on. These sorts of depictions of the mentally ill in popular culture are important, and are something to be taken seriously.

I spoke with Jess Hettich, a skills trainer at ShelterCare, about her work in order to get a better idea of the value of their accuracy.

Hettich works to help those struggling with these issues to meet their specific needs so they feel comfortable interacting with others in their day to day lives. I spoke with her about the way she perceives our society’s interaction with the mentally ill.

“It’s so embedded in our society that if you stand out at all, it’s not a good thing,” Hettich said about how strong the stigma is toward the people she works with, that it’s something that they can feel while trying to work through these issues. “(They’re) trying to get through daily life and struggling with symptoms that other people don’t understand and can’t understand because society doesn’t teach them how it actually works.”

Cinema often depicts characters with mental illnesses. But most frequently in Hollywood, the depiction of mental illness is a violent one. Insanity leading to violence has been a prominent plot point for a long time. Movies like Psycho paint a harsh picture of the affected, and more often it is those with the disorder who are suffering the most.

“It’s not a matter of their comfort so much as the rest of society’s,” Hettich said about this balance in working to meet goals for her patients. It’s difficult to hear, but it’s clear that the issue isn’t with the individual alone, but is with the community. “(In Africa), they treat it as a community issue, it isn’t a shameful thing, it’s like, ‘we need to work together to manage these symptoms, you’re still a part of our family.’”

Recently another common theme has developed, which is a tendency to glorify antisocial disorders among adolescents in particular. Films like Donnie Darko can make introversion and depression seem almost appealing or attractive. This encourages an idea that these disorders are trivial or unsubstantiated.

“People don’t treat mental illness like they treat things like cancer,” Hettich said. “But they’re just as legitimate and they affect your life just as much. You don’t romanticize cancer.”

The idea that if it isn’t tangible it isn’t worth treating has been difficult to overcome, and the portrayal of the mentally ill in pop culture is a huge part of that.

“It’s like a novelty, people don’t know too much about it,” Hettich said. “They know the stereotypes that you read in books or see in movies.”

These conditioned stereotypes really do change perception.

But Frank is different. Frank depicts a man, someone with strengths and faults like anyone else. We watch this character grow and learn to live with what had been a crippling social anxiety. A film depicting the mentally ill as people beyond psychopaths and superheroes is uncommon, Frank goes a step further. It shows not just a real man behind the mask, but a real way to take it off. The mentally ill have been brushed aside in their representation in film, and this affects the way we see these people outside of the theater. But we made these characters, and we can do something different.

“People have to take the initiative to change that, it isn’t going to change on its own,” Hettich said. We need to eliminate the idea that it isn’t our problem, because it is. We as a community can work on broadening our ability to accept, rather than expecting everyone else to meet a standard. Frank is a strong step towards this. Representation is important, and films like this are exactly what we need.