On Friday night, six people were killed near the University of California at Santa Barbara in a drive-by shooting. The gunman’s reasons for doing so are no mystery: He wrote a manifesto and posted videos online hours and days before the shooting detailing the rage he felt. He wanted sex and attention from “hot, blonde girls” who didn’t want him. He wanted one of them, and since he couldn’t “have one,” he sought revenge.

I won’t name him because I believe his identity is irrelevant. What his motivations represent matter more than anything else: Misogyny, a strong sense of entitlement, a sense that “having” women reinforces one’s manhood. Because he had a nice car, designer clothes and believed he was attractive, he felt entitled to women and their bodies. When they didn’t “give it” to him, he felt they deserved punishment of the worst kind.

In this sense, this mass shooting is unlike many others. It’s a gendered act of violence. And I feel sick — sick because, though his attitudes were taken to the extreme, this man doesn’t seem unfamiliar to me. I have met him before. Once at a club in high school, when a man got angry with me for refusing to dance with him and later grabbed my arm, insisting that his desire for me was more important than my disinterest.

I met this kind of man again, at a bar recently, when a guy took my best friend aside and, assuming he was my boyfriend, applauded him for landing such a “beautiful girl.” He said this as casually as if my friend had won a raffle — and I was the prize. I know, from many, many conversations with women that my experiences are not unique.

When mass killings occur, a large debate happens (in journalism, and otherwise) in which we question the amount of attention we grant the killer. It is a legitimate conversation, and one we should have. I often lean on the side of not giving attention. Our fascination with the killer risks turning him into the celebrity he wanted to be.

But I feel slightly different about this case, mainly because of its disturbing familiarity — to me and to so many other women. The discussions this case should arouse should go beyond mental illness and gun control (though worthy discussions in their own right).

We must evaluate the patriarchal culture in which we live that justified and validated the gunman’s motivations. Because it did. Our culture does equate manhood with robust sexuality. Our society does communicate messages that portray women as objects, objects be acquired. So we can’t treat this tragedy as merely a “freak case” — not when we see messages that reaffirm his misogynistic ideas in our movies, in our televisions, in our magazines, in our bars and clubs and homes.

Women are not prizes to be won. Dating is not a sign of status or wealth. Your sense of worth doesn’t entitle you to others. I have a right to not dance with you. I am not a reason a man should be patted on the back. Our bodies should not be advertised as mere sexual objects, in magazines, in television.

We must do it for our men and boys, so that they can live in a culture that sees their value as more than their number of sexual partners. We must do it for our women and girls so that they can grow up feeling empowered to say no, and not scared of the possible repercussions.

If nothing else, we must do it for for the victims of Friday night and their families, so that their deaths will never be forgotten and so that the ideas that fueled his actions will never be validated. If we don’t, we fail not just those so wrongly killed. We fail each other.

You could hear the shouts from blocks away. Students, staff, faculty and community members yelled from the steps of Johnson Hall — signs in hand, demanding the administration’s attention. Their voices grew in volume, persistence. What they chanted for was clear: The end of patriarchy, the end of date rape, the support of survivors. The right for transparency. The end of institutional betrayal.

The rallies — organized by the student and faculty group University of Oregon Coalition to End Sexual Violence and hosted almost daily in the last few weeks— occurred after the sexual assault investigation that culminated in the removal of Dominic Artis, Damyean Dotson and Brandon Austin brought even more attention to the hundreds of others. Advocates also pointed out the fact that one in five female college students is a survivor of sexual assault. There were 39 reported cases of sexual assault on campus in 2012 — and that only includes those that have been reported. None of the cases resulted in expulsion.

What is at the base of all these chants is a yearning for something the protestors — and many others in the campus community and the country — deem necessary: answers. How will universities do better? How will we, as a community, as individuals, do better?

In short: Where will we go from here?

By now, it’s become a national question. In April, members of congress encouraged U.S. News and World Report to include campus violence in their university rankings, meaning that prospective incoming students would be able to browse a college’s teacher-to-student ratio, class average and number of reported sexual assaults — all in the same breath.

Ultimately, U.S. News resisted this push, insisting its rankings only focus on academics. That doesn’t mean efforts for greater attention to campus safety were completely thwarted: The Department of Education recently issued a list of 55 colleges nationwide that would be investigated for possible mishandling of sexual assault cases.

When it comes to preventing sexual violence on our own campus, some say we should begin by making sexual wellness education mandatory. At least, that’s one of the five demands the Coalition to End Sexual Violence made public to the administration on May 13, when its members also insisted the administration hold a press conference to address those demands — a conference that hasn’t happened. Specifically, the coalition asked the university to expand its multicultural general education requirement so that it includes at least one mandatory class that addresses gender, sexuality and social inequality in the U.S.

What a mandatory class on gender, sexuality and social inequality might do is get everyone on the same page when it comes to sexual assault. After all, not many would argue rape isn’t bad, but not everyone would agree on its definition — on what healthy consent, and healthy sex, constitutes. We might not have to look further than the last reported case to see the lack of sexual wellness education at work.

“As someone who stands by survivors, and believes survivors — I believe it was sexual assault — part of the police report made me feel that these three men did not think it was and didn’t go in to it thinking ‘we’re going to commit an act of violence tonight.’” said Sarah Ray Rondot, a women’s and gender studies instructor. “And that’s a huge issue in itself. Part of the problem with this case draws attention to our definition of consent — how we talk about sex itself.”

It could be argued that the university has made strides in this area. Just recently, it implemented a mandatory online training module, “Haven,” that all incoming freshmen under 21 would be required to take. 

In addition, the ASUO Sexual Violence Prevention Center — a newly formed group born of the ASUO Sexual Violence Prevention Task Force — is working on a 4,000-person sexual wellness training module, one that its members would like to see implemented in Fraternity and Sorority Life. Though still in the works, coalition members would like to see sororities refuse a function with a fraternity unless a certain percentage of its members have completed the training module.

But some question the efficacy of online education — especially when it’s in regards to an issue as sensitive and complex as sexual violence.

“Programs like ‘Haven’ are treated like a risk-management program. They’re created by insurance companies. They’re thinking about ‘how can we not get in trouble,’ not ‘how can we truly prevent this from happening,’” said Marina Rosenthal, a clinical psychology doctoral student and member of the coalition. “I think the best way to educate students on sexual assault would be to do a full course for credits that’s giving value.”

In addition, many campus groups who are already leaders when it comes to educating students on healthy relationships and consent. The Sexual Wellness Advocacy Team, for instance, is well known for its educational workshops on sexual wellness. But Rosenthal argues funding is an issue.

“While UO likes to release press releases supporting prevention, it’s another thing to put your money where your mouth is,” Rosenthal said. “Campus groups are doing great work with not a lot of resources.”

ASUO President Sam Dotters-Katz argues that it’s a bit more complicated than a mere lack of funds. He stresses that sexual assault prevention has always been the number one priority for the ASUO.

According to Dotters-Katz, every year the ASUO’s Sexual Violence Prevention Center — which works in conjunction with other sexual violence prevention groups, like SWAT — receives $45,000 a year in funding.

“I agree there’s not enough funding for these things,” Dotters-Katz said. “I don’t agree, however, that it shows that we’re not emphasizing this issue as an institution, and not just the ASUO. When one in five women on college campuses are raped, how can you ever say that we’re doing enough?”

Though he doesn’t deny the institution’s responsibility when it comes to sexual assault, Dotters-Katz wants to emphasize individual and communal responsibility when it comes to fighting rape culture on a day-to-day basis.

“It’s a constant every day effort, and it starts by looking at ourselves. Every time you saw a red-flag situation at a party, did you say something?” Dotters-Katz said. “Every time your friend made an off-color joke, did you say something? What have you done — first and foremost — to counteract the rape culture that exists on our campus and every campus?”

Individual empowerment and education are efforts the ASUO Women’s Center focuses on with their several annual campaigns a year — including last month’s Take Back the Night. However, increasing focus on bystander-intervention — what one can do in order to prevent a sexual assault from occurring in the first place, whether at a party or otherwise — is one thing Caitlin Corona, the sexual violence prevention coordinator at the ASUO Women’s Center, would like to emphasize in the future.

“We’re very good on the response end. I think that we, as a department and as a campus, we can definitely amp up our bystander intervention and help students understand how to better support survivors.” Corona said. “It’s a community issue and we need to tackle it as a community.”

And tackle we do — both nationally and locally. This Wednesday, the University Senate will host an open campus forum aimed at developing a plan of action for ending sexual violence on campus.

If one thing’s for sure, it’s this: the chants are becoming harder to ignore.

Prejudice comes in many forms. Sometimes, it shows itself through personal conflicts — through bullying, taunting or hate crimes. Other times, it comes in the form of legal matters — through withholding the right to vote or the right to marry.

Often, though, prejudice comes in shapes a bit more subtle. University of Oregon student Kate Karfilis experienced it in the form of an anonymous comment made in response to her request for a fellowship.

After she applied for a grant to fund scientific research, an anonymous reviewer of her application referred to Karfilis’ female co-mentor as “merely a pair of x chromosomes.”

To some, the comment may have appeared harmless — at most, an innocent joke gone wrong. But to Karfilis it was a reminder of a local and national problem: the underrepresentation of women in the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics) fields.

One look at data compiled by the UO’s Office of Institutional Research from fall 2013, says it all: 34.2 percent of undergraduates majoring in mathematics are female, while 42.8 percent of chemistry majors are. Females make up 20.9 percent of physics majors, while computer science undergraduates have the lowest percentage with an unsettling 14.1 percent.

These low numbers reflect a problem that is hardly just local. According to a 2011 report by the U.S. Department of Commerce, women hold only 25 percent of jobs in the STEM fields. Considering that women now make up close to a half of all jobs in the U.S., some say this is especially daunting. Add that to the fact that women in STEM careers earn on average 33 percent more than females in other fields, and the results are even more surprising. Why, if STEM careers are so fruitful, would there not be more women working in the field?

Although Dr. Dean Livelybrooks, a UO physics instructor, doesn’t have a clear answer to this question, he is trying to change the reality. Because of the lack of diversity in STEM — both of females and minorities —  he founded STEM CORE, a group that focuses on recruiting and sustaining students in the STEM fields, in 2012. He and his team work with students all the way from kindergarten to grad school, providing outreach programs to young students and providing students with scholarships to allow them to fund research projects, all in an effort to enhance the STEM career pipeline.

“We want to give people hands-on experience. Diversity is important, and the STEM fields are lacking in this diversity nation-wide,” Livelybrooks said.

Since becoming a physics advisor at the UO in 1998, Livelybrooks has seen his fair share of women climbing back down the ladder of science. Many give up and he’s not quite sure why. Even with all the benefits of this work — the self-fulfillment, the money — he says a lot of women still don’t stay.

That’s where the question of role models might come in. If women don’t stay in the STEM career path, will other women have trouble seeing themselves there? Does an undergraduate student perusing the university’s physics department webpage feel deterred when she sees that only two out of 32 faculty members are female?

Livelybrooks thinks so. That’s why one of his priorities is to hire more female faculty. But at a time when female physics faculty members are in high demand around the country, the physics department is struggling to do so.

Karyn Lewis, a UO psychology graduate, has done research that proves how important hiring more female faculty is. Along with her graduate advisor, Dr. Sara Hodges, Lewis researched self-perception, belonging and their relationship to the underrepresentation of women in the STEM fields.

In one study, Lewis researched how advertising a scientific field of study to advanced undergraduate students — either with a male-dominated or gender-neutral paper brochure — affected one’s likelihood to go in to that field. Another studied how both male and female first-year graduate students in STEM fields perceive their effort compared to the average student in their field.

The results for both were striking. The women who were shown a male-dominated brochure for a fictitious scientific field, “eco-psychology,” said they would be significantly less interested in the field than the group of women who were shown a gender-equal brochure (one that showed both male and female faculty names and faces). Men who participated in that study, on the other hand, weren’t affected by the differences in brochures.

In the second study, although the men’s and women’s GPAs were roughly the same, the women perceived themselves to be struggling more than the average student in their field, whereas men did not. Not surprisingly, these women also reported a low sense of belonging in their field of interest. This directly affected their self-perceived motivation when it came to continuing in their field.

Both of these studies showed Lewis two things: that hard work doesn’t always pay off, not when you think your hard work is unique to you, and that feeling you belong in a field of study, is directly correlated with your desire to stay in that group. Belonging matters. Self-perceptions matter. Stereotypes matter.

“Unfortunately, a lot of our perceptions about STEM fields is that talent in these fields comes ‘naturally’ to those who are good at them,” Lewis said. “But this idea that you don’t have to work hard at it is, ultimately, hurting students interested, especially women who already have to deal with pre-existing stereotypes that math and science shouldn’t come easy to them. However, our research shows that by normalizing this effort, by making clear that it is hard for everyone — both males and females — more women will choose to stick with it.”

Gender stereotypes might explain why certain STEM fields, such as human physiology and biology, (fields that some might consider “softer,” more “people-friendly”), are the only science fields in which UO women make up approximately half or more of the undergraduate pool. From data collected fall 2013, 59.4 percent of UO’s biology undergrads are female, while 55.4 percent of undergraduates majoring in general science are female. 59.8 percent of human physiology undergraduates are female. The only STEM field at the UO in which women make up more than half of its undergraduate majors is psychology, with a whopping 70.1 percent.

“Even though these fields take no less effort,” said Karfilis, a graduate student in molecular biology and the president of UO’s Women in Graduate Science, “certain stereotypes that exist about women — that they’re more social or more sensitive — might bring more women in to these fields of study.”

Emily Schwarz, a computer science graduate student and vice president of the Women in Computer Science group on campus, sees the kind of self doubt that Lewis researched among women in her field, including herself.

“A guy in computer science can get a C on a test and not think about it again,” Schwarz said. “While a woman gets a B and she may start questioning her intelligence in the field. There’s a lot of insecurities that go along with being one of the only women there.”

The comment the anonymous reviewer made may have appeared harmless to some, but for people like Karfilis, Dr. Livelybrooks, Lewis and Schwarz, those words mean so much more.

By Kaylee Tornay

You may think there’s no chance you could ever identify with a porn star from Maine who gets killed in a bike accident. But a jaunt to see the University Theatre’s production of “Landscape of the Body” might change your mind. Filled with illicit sexual encounters, the least cheesy musical numbers you could hope for and enough death to keep a sadist happy, “Landscape of the Body” will make you laugh nervously one moment, ponder the nature of existence the next and cause you bewilderment more than once.

The narrator is Rosalie, a New York City travel agent living the good life: snorting coke in her apartment, sleeping with her boss and making porno’s in her spare time. She’s killed in an accident, however, shortly after her sister Betty shows up to try to bring her back to their Maine hometown. Rosalie, played by UO student Anne Lupi, accompanies us as we witness Betty taking over the various city-girl roles of her late sister’s life, eventually winding up accused of her own son’s murder.

“Landscape of the Body” is categorized as a “play with music,” which basically means Rosalie enters sporadically and performs a brief song related to what’s happening in the play. Although this may sound suspiciously like a musical to theatre-rookies, director Jean Sidden pointed out the difference.

“I think of Rosalie like a Greek chorus, commenting on the action of the play,” Sidden said. If that doesn’t clear things up, just take my word for it: it’s not a musical.

The characters, despite inclinations toward various disturbing elements (if you’re uncomfortable with talk about golden showers, plug your ears for most of the second scene), have a relatable charm to them. When we’re introduced to Betty, played by UO student Rebecca Lee, she’s under police investigation. She’s harsh and angry about her son’s death and — honestly — less than likable. However, through flashback, we develop an affinity with her as we witness her descent from folksy single mother frustrated with her monotonous life to hardened city woman living an often-idealized life that leaves her just as dissatisfied.

Rosalie is enchanting with a saucy, Mae West-y persona that commands attention. Lupi describes her as “a big person, essentially.” Being dead is the best thing ever, she says. Yet, as we listen to her recounting events in the living world, there are clear indications of a longing for life. Running themes include feelings of belonging nowhere and disillusionment with the intangible American Dream. In the words of Sidden, “the All-American, clean-cut, Currier-and-Ives atmosphere [is] just shattered in Landscape.”

All in all, the play strikes a satisfying balance between bizarre (when Rosalie recounts a sex scene she filmed with a man in a gorilla suit), humorous (the sleazy boss who wears a gold-lamé evening gown because he thinks that’s what successful Americans do) and downright gut-wrenching (watching the relationship between Betty and her son disintegrate the longer they stay in the city). Far from a pro-America production, Landscape of the Body will definitely cause you to rethink the much-lauded national idea of aspiration—or at least, make you want to investigate 1970s porn.

“Landscape of the Body” will be showing in the Hope Theatre this Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., along with a Sunday matinee at 2 p.m. The show is free for UO students.

Art exhibits from nationally recognized contemporary artist seldom visit Eugene.  But until April 6, the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art will be showing Kara Walker’s Emancipating the Past.

This exhibit by Walker, who is — according to an article by the Eugene Weekly — the youngest recipient of the MacArthur grant, and one of Time Magazine’s most influential people of 2007, is a 60-piece exhibit from Jordan Schnitzer’s collection, featuring portrayals of slavery and African-American history in the U.S. Walker uses unconventional silhouette methods to convey her messages by invoking shocking elements of violence and sexuality.

Museum exhibit coordinator extern Jessica DiTillio wrote her master’s thesis on Walker’s art.

“It was a really popular form during the 19th century, but considered cheap and disposable, so there’s an implication to her referencing this art form that was popular during this particularly oppressive era and elevating it to a grand scale,” DiTillio said. “It’s a metaphor for a stereotype. You get minimal information, this outline, yet you’re able to infer the story … say ‘white character’ or ‘black character.’”

This 26 frame series is Walker’s impression of the period following the Emancipation Proclamation, incorporating themes of death, emasculation of African males and swans to symbolize white masters raping female slaves.

The first eight screen prints occupy white backdrops, but at the ninth frame they become gray. DiTillio proposes this is suggestive of an adjustment — a “literal mixing of black and white.” This is not to suggest that the images become any more harmonious at this point. The final panel features a pensive female silhouette leaning against a stump with an axe standing beside it and is surrounded by decapitated heads.

Walker’s brand of commentary displays the horrors of the Antebellum South with anarchy and brutality, and therefore, has drawn its share of criticism. Yet Jordan Schnitzer feels nothing but appreciation for the exhibit.

“I admire her for being willing to stand and say this is important, to say never forget … these themes are personal, to me and this university,” Schnitzer said. “When I see her work, it grabs me and won’t let me go.”

DiTillio shares this sentiment.

“It’s very moving when you see it in person. There’s this heavy emotional impact that you can’t escape,” DiTillo said.

No well-informed individual would deny that race relations remain an extremely prevalent and emotionally charged issue in America. Walker’s art depicts the past, but the relevance of her commentary extends into the present.

“If there’s one institution that has the opportunity to, and must deal with the issues of our time, of racial intolerance, of inequality of the sexes, of man and woman’s inhumanity to each other, it is this campus,” Schnitzer said. ”The discussion of these issues is not an option; it’s a must and a requirement.”

Schnitzer could not emphasize this point enough.

“It’s a tragedy, in my opinion, if every student doesn’t get over to see this exhibit. I’ve always said you can’t wear the art out by having too many eyes look at it.”

Emancipating the Past will be at the JSMA until April 6.

Just looking at it, you wouldn’t suspect the house to be anything but normal. It’s large and white, it’s a home dedicated to “clean and sober living” and is located in a rural area of Eugene. Yet there’s a room in the basement of the house where activities take place that many people probably don’t know about: blood is shed intentionally, whips are flicked on soft skin and ropes decorate women’s bodies, which are then suspended from the ceiling.

It’s called the “dungeon,” a place where pleasure is synonymous with pain.

The dungeon belongs to “Mech,” a self-proclaimed “fireplay instructor,” rope rigger and artist and an “old submissive with a sadist streak.” Like many in the BDSM community, pain is Mech’s aphrodisiac, and he enjoys giving it just as much as receiving it.

“To a true sadist, hurting someone is erotic,” Mech said. “I can very often bring girls to orgasm without even touching them.”

Wearing all black with pierced ears (two earrings in each) and a goatee, you’d never guess Mech has worked as a mechanic before, then a firefighter EMT, then a firefighter chief. All you see is his passion for pain and pleasure: In the dungeon, his eyes light up as he gives a tour. On one corner is the “St. Andrew’s Cross,” an x-shaped wooden piece onto which he ties women up. In another are the fire torches, colored ropes and a scrapbook of various tattoo patterns he uses to cut “tattoos” in to the skin of others using outlines in the shape of butterflies or Hello Kitty.

Needless to say, the 70-year-old is no rookie to BDSM. He has been doing this for 12 years, first meeting his ex-mistress through a BDSM chat room after he ended his 30-year marriage. Today, he hosts weekly open houses and private sessions. Some of the lessons include teaching others the proper way to hit one another (“Just stay away from the kidneys”) and how to play with fire safely.

Mech also performs at Diablo’s Downtown Lounge, a nightclub in Eugene that hosts semiannual fetish balls and quarterly fetish nights. Though the club is soon closing down (its last fetish ball is Oct. 26), it has been a public space for much of the fetish community in Eugene for the last 14 years. On fetish nights, there’s everything from spanking and piercing to fire play and cutting.

“People often refer to us as ‘that’ fetish bar” said Diablo’s owner Troy Slavkovsky. “Diablo’s has introduced it more to the masses.”

Rob Reynolds, a performer at Diablo’s for the past four years, would agree. “Diablo’s has always given others the ability to check out the scene in a setting that isn’t intimidating,” he said.

When he performs, Reynolds uses “impact play,” a practice in which one person is struck repeatedly by another. Most of his subjects are naked and he hits them with instruments that are visually stunning and effective: like floggers, crops and paddles. He will use anything, he says, that can get them to “where they need to go.”

“I’m just the bus driver,” Reynolds said. “And they love it. Which means I do, too. Sometimes, I can’t even get them to get off the stage.”

So what is it about pain that some find so erotic? What makes people want to hit someone with a paddle repeatedly? What makes others want to be hit by a paddle, repeatedly?

The thrill of sadomasochism, this giving and/or receiving of pleasure involving pain, is what Reynolds believes is a product of two kinds of releases: sexual and emotional. Some do it for one or the other, some for both. Reynolds says that most people come to him yearn for the latter.

“It’s a catharsis of letting go,” Reynolds said. “Whether it’s a bad relationship, bad family or a burden of stress, they can just forget about it when I’m hitting them. By the time we’re done, they’re skipping out the door.”

“It’s a safe way to get high,” Mech said. “It’s like a drug, without the negative effects.”

And he might be right. According to MedicineNet.com, secretion of endorphins leads to decreased feelings of pain and sadness, and stress and pain are the two most common reasons for the release of endorphins in the first place.

The fetish community isn’t only about physical or emotional release. It’s about relationships, too. In many sadomasochist relationships, power dynamics are at play. There’s a dominant, or “top,” who is the one inflicting pain on another, while the submissive, or “bottom,” is the one upon which pain is inflicted. Though the limits vary from relationship to relationship, the premise is the same: one person dominates while another person behaves.

A woman who goes by the name of “Suki,” is one of these people. In the bedroom, she likes what many people in the kink community do: the hair pulling and cocking and restraining. But she also enjoys this obedient, submissive behavior outside the bedroom, as well. Her husband, who is dominant, can (most of the time) tell her what to do or not to do and what to wear or not to wear. And she likes it.

“It’s a relief to me to be able to surrender sometimes,” Suki said over the phone. “It takes me outside of everything. I have a full-time job. I have children. It’s nice to surrender.”

Mech has two women who are “bottoms” to him as well. One of them, who preferred not to share her name, will be going to the University of Oregon next year and wears a black collar around her neck — one she isn’t allowed to take off without Mech’s permission.

People who aren’t familiar with the community might see this kind of relationship — one filled with pain, dominance and obedience, as an abusive one. But Suki, and many other people in the community, think definitely not. There is mutual trust, respect, limits that are discussed between the two parties before anything takes place.

“It’s actually the submissive who has the power,” Reynolds said. “It’s he or she who can say when to stop using safe words or hand signals. Safety and consent is important to us.”

Preconceptions like this one are something that people like Mech, Slavkovsky, Reynolds and Suki wish would evaporate. But they, like the rest of the fetish community in Eugene, know it’s not that simple. But that doesn’t mean they don’t try.

“What it takes is education,” Reynolds said. “The kinky community is much like the homosexual community was in 1985, it is still hidden, but is slowly breaking out. There are Republicans, Democrats, young and old that are a part of it. We realize that we’re all freaks and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m kinky and proud of it.”

Once upon a time, there was a father and a son who decided to make a movie about space. So they spent six years doing so, paying acute attention to perfecting the visuals, while hiring two insanely famous, yet mediocre actors who would bring in the big bucks: Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. Only problem? They completely forgot about plot, dialogue and character.

Welcome to “Gravity.”

I don’t even know what I disliked most about this movie: the overdone, over sentimentality of the plot, or the fact that every line that came out of George Clooney’s mouth — or any mouth for that matter — made me want to jump out of my seat and throw popcorn at the 3D version of their faces.

The plot is unoriginal at best, sensational and desperate at worst. The movie is about Ryan (Bullock) and Matt (Clooney), two astronauts who get stranded in space after the debris from a destroyed satellite ruined their space shuttles and threatened to kill them. Matt has to sacrifice himself so that Ryan will live, and of course, she does. Anything unpredictable about that story line? Because if so, I totally missed it.

Maybe — and this is a generous maybe — the story wouldn’t have been so bad had it not focused on the same predictable theme countless other movies do: A strong will to survive, even after terrible circumstances, is enough to allow you to survive under these terrible circumstances — even when you’re trapped in space, you run out of oxygen in your tank, your shuttle gets caught on fire because, apparently, these shuttles are made of Birchwood, your capsule runs out of fuel, you don’t know how to use a rescue capsule, yet your random pushing of buttons is actually correct and you land on the cushion of water. This girl just can’t seem to catch a break, but she makes it out okay in the end.

But the worst part about the movie wasn’t even the plot, it was the inconsistencies, awkwardness and outright terrible dialogue that made me want to stand up in my seat and boycott. It was full of dialogue that’s evidence only to the cheesiness Hollywood is drenched in. The kind of movie where the witty lines just keep coming, no matter what happens.

Case in point: Even after almost being killed by debris, even after their fellow astronaut friend is killed, Matt says, calmly to Ryan (who is hyperventilating, mind you), “I know I’m devastatingly good-looking, but you got to stop staring at me.” Evidently, even after a traumatic event, Clooney’s charm can’t wither, not even after debris nearly ripped his body in to shreds.

But, it gets better. There are times in the movie when I can’t even believe that they’re astronauts at all. When Ryan is running out of oxygen in her tank, (this is after their space shuttle was destroyed by debris), Matt tells her to save her oxygen. You know, breathe slowly and sparingly. But then he keeps asking her questions about her life, and she keeps talking and talking, obviously not conserving the only thing that is keeping her alive: oxygen.

And don’t even get me started about the scene in which Bullock starts barking to a Chinese man from inside her isolated space vessel. Yes, actually barking. As in, like a dog. Alone and afraid, she found him on her space talk radio. At first, she tries to get a hold of someone who could, you know, help her, but ends up getting in contact with a man in China instead, who doesn’t seem to speak a word of English and just enjoys talking to people in space in his spare time. So he has a dog, the dog barks and Bullock barks with it. Then a baby’s cry comes in to the mix (we didn’t see that coming) and she starts to tear up — well, as much as Bullock can muster. And then she asks this man if he would pray for her because she doesn’t think anyone is going to mourn her death. And that’s when the religious pandering begins: “No one taught me how to pray,” she whispers to no one in particular. It’s cheesy, overly sentimental and just too damn much.

If it weren’t for the script and story, maybe this could have been a good movie. The visuals are beautiful. Earth is amazing to look at from space. But the plot and dialogue are so painful, so cheesy, so unrealistic, it makes me queasy. So if you must, do watch this movie. Just put it on mute.

It’s now fall: that colorful time of year when the leaves are falling, the air is crisp and refreshing, and the woolen blankets are warm and comforting. It’s when we make pumpkin pies, apple crisps and drink warm drinks, like hot apple cider and warm tea. If you’re in the mood for an extra kick to your regular fall drinks, however, here are some warm spiked drinks for some cold frigid days.

Apple Cider Punch: Refreshing and sweet, this quick drink is perfect to make when you want a break from your gin and tonics. Just mix together sparkling wine, orange juice and cold apple cider.

Hot Buttered Rum: This warm drink is perfect for a night reading indoors, or spending time with friends around a campfire. It takes only three minutes to make: place one small slice of butter, one teaspoon of brown sugar, and some cinnamon at the bottom of a mug; mix well; and then pour in 2 oz. rum mixed with hot water. Replace rum with whiskey for a slightly stronger flavor.

Warm n’ Toasty: The fruity rendition of the classic hot toddy, this drink is infused with bourbon, lemon juice and grenadine. Pour two ounces of bourbon, lemon juice and grenadine into a mug and then fill with hot water. Garnish with a slice of orange and a cinnamon stick.

Autumn Chai Sizzle: Love chai? Then you’ll love it even more with an alcoholic twist. All you’ll need are two ounces of Bailey’s Irish Cream, three ounces of brewed chai tea, raw brown sugar, and a cinnamon stick. After you have brewed the Chai, add the brown sugar and stir until dissolved, before adding the Bailey’s Irish Cream. Garnish with the cinnamon stick. Yum.

Apple Crisp: Here’s one of your favorite fall desserts in a glass. All you’ll need is cake-flavored vodka, whisky, maple syrup and apple juice. Stir together, drain over ice and garnish with a cinnamon stick. Pair this with some vanilla ice cream and you are in sweet, sweet alcohol heaven.

Falling Leaf Fizzle: This is one for the pumpkin-spice-latte lovers out there. It’s a sweet drink bursting with pumpkin flavor. To make, use one part vodka, four parts sparkling wine, a dash of simple syrup, one heaping teaspoon of pumpkin butter, a pinch of pumpkin pie spice and a dried apple chip to garnish. First, mix the vodka, pumpkin butter, spice and syrup in the bottom of a champagne glass. Stir well, then top with sparkling wine and garnish.

My Italian grandmother sits on the swing outside the house she’s lived in for over two decades, in the lake town she was born in more than ninety-three years ago, in the place she gave birth to my father almost fifty years later. She is silently watching the people pass by; and occasionally comments on her neighbors.  Romano who went to the mountains for vacation, about the neighbors to our left she hasn’t seen for some time — all the while rubbing her right hand with her left and smoothing the folds that wrinkle her worn skin.

We’re in Desenzano del Garda, a town in northern Italy, surrounded by the sparkling blue of Lake Garda, and I’m sitting next to her, asking to hear stories of her life once again, of the decisions that eventually led to me — an Italian American — to be with her on that swing in the middle of a hot July Italian summer.

It was the 1940s when my grandmother Rosa locked eyes with a handsome man from across the pews of a church in Desenzano. His name was Giovanni, and these lustful looks lasted for some time until he waited on the church steps one day for Rosa and asked if he could accompany her on her Sunday walk home, through the town’s square, or piazza, and down the roads to her house. She said yes.

Little did she know she would marry this same man a few years later, in the same town in which they met, and she would give birth to their first child, my father, Raffaele, shortly after. Giovanni then made a name for himself as a successful Italian tailor hemming and mending the suits for the important people of the town, and Rosa left her job at the post office to take care of my father.

Though Giovanni’s business was going well, and Rosa loved her home country, they contemplated moving to America only a few years later. After failed attempts at having another child, and after knowing many who immigrated to America, to Rosa and Giovanni, this seemed particularly appealing. So the family boarded a ship, their six-year-old son in tow, and left.

Just like that, Raffaele, born Italian, became an Italian American. Many years after the ship had landed he would move to New York City where he’d meet my mother and have three children: my older sister, my younger brother and I.

Being the children of an Italian, our ancestry seemed to permeate everything we did: We attended the Catholic church across the street every Sunday, we ate meals rich with pastas and bread and breaded chicken and we would even fight like the Italians we were — fervently, passionately and stubbornly.

The summers we spent in Italy visiting family just reiterated our ethnicity even more. They were filled with the stereotypes many people deem true when they think of the country of gelato and Dolce & Gabbana: the colorful fruit vendors on every street corner; the angry gesticulations; the gelled-up, tanned men; the accordions sitting on the cobblestones — and this all felt so traditional, so beautifully old and somewhat sacred.

Then, in high school, I lived with my grandmother for seven months. (My grandmother had moved back to Italy for good after her husband retired), and it was during those months that I began to understand subtleties about Italian culture I hadn’t before — subtleties I couldn’t understand solely by wandering the cobblestone streets. I saw Italy in the way she insisted I wear socks in eighty degree weather because there was a slight breeze and she worried I’d catch a cold (Italians don’t see relief in cool breezes on a hot day; they see pneumonia). I saw it in the anxiety she would express when I’d leave the house, never afraid to voice her dislike when it came to what I was wearing or what I was doing, or both (did I mention that Italians are as passionate with their food as they are with their anger?). And, most of all, I saw it in the way she valued her routines: The 12 p.m. lunch she had every day of either pasta or meat; the way she, and I, watched the Italian equivalent of “Deal or No Deal” every night.

It had been two years since I’d been to Italy when I returned this past summer, and I was hungry for more of her stories, always yearning to find the parallels between her world and mine. So I listened and went to where she had once been: The church in which she met my grandfather, where I gazed at the al fresco paintings that aligned the grandiose walls, the ones she must have looked at before her eyes met his. I went to the pebbled beach with my friends and sat in the same area she used to lay with hers. I went to the castle near our house that overlooked the sparkling lake, thinking of her doing the same — forty, sixty, eighty years ago.

And I did this with the thought, the knowing, that even though I can’t know all the stories of her life, Italy is a part of her, and the Italy she knew is not much different from the one I know. It’s still as much a country of tradition, of beauty, as ever before.

So as we sat next to each other on that swing in Italy in the middle of July — a ninety-three-old woman and a twenty-one-year-old woman, our lives swayed in a steady rhythm, as close to being in sync as we possibly be.

It’s your freshman year of college. You’re looking forward to the parties, meeting new people and, perhaps meeting that guy or girl you can connect with on a romantic level. But, maybe your idea of meeting someone isn’t while you’re drunk at a party. Maybe the idea of a one-night-stand doesn’t appeal to you. If that’s you, here are some tips to finding more than just a good time your freshman year of college.

Talk to your classmates

See that beautiful girl in the green dress in your philosophy class? Talk to her. As nerve-wracking as it may seem, just DO it. When leaving class, make eye contact with her and find an excuse to ask her something: “Did (insert professor’s name here) say she was going to put the note slides on Blackboard?” Gauge her reaction and then just let the conversation flow from there. Seriously, what have you got to lose?

Go on real dates

Remember those middle school fantasies about going out on a real, “grown-up” date with a crush? The one where he bought you flowers and picked you up? The one where you kiss at the door? Well, let’s make it happen. Rather than exchanging phone numbers and having a party be the first place you interact, go out to dinner. Take that risk. It’s better to live without regrets than with a little rejection.

Take advantage of clubs and activities

Like sports? Try intramural teams. Like the outdoors? Go on hikes organized by the Outdoor Program. The UO offers a wide-range of opportunities to explore new interests and develop the old. Meeting people through shared interests means there’s more chance to meeting potential partners, close friends. Take advantage.

Be vulnerable

Oftentimes, when we first start dating someone, we get caught up in our own head: Does this sound weird? Do I sound desperate? Is it too soon to call? Instead of torturing ourselves with our analyses, what if we just did what felt right? Maybe then we could have more relationships that are authentic and genuine. If he or she doesn’t respond well to our loving attention, then maybe that person isn’t for us anyway.

Take it slow

It’s not to say that if you don’t, it won’t work out, but there is something to be said about taking your time when it comes to being physical with someone. Build an emotional connection with each other before you get in bed. Besides, it’s likely that the experience will be even better because you waited, making for a more passionate encounter.

DuckLife is the Emerald’s magazine for incoming freshmen, made available during IntroDucktion. This story has been reprinted from the magazine in its original form.