LETTER FROM THE EDITOR — EVA HARTMAN
If you’ve ever had the unique experience of being my coworker, you’re well acquainted with my deeply competitive pedagogy. I spent last semester as the News Assignments Editor for the Daily Trojan, a role that included a 24/7 responsibility for all breaking news. Sleeping with my earbuds in as to not disturb my roommates, I kept my ringer on full volume to ensure I wouldn’t let my team down by missing an alert in the middle of the night, frequently had to run out of my classes to take a call from public relations or law enforcement, and smiled through comments from non-news friends that they felt like they hadn’t seen me in months, despite living feet apart.
I loved my job. I was — and still am — absolutely obsessed with speed. The satisfaction of breaking a story before the Los Angeles Times or uncovering a scandal before the University knows what’s happening are what compel me out of bed every morning and keep me at my desk late each night.
Somehow, conversely, my semester of competition made me become deeply intentional. I had so little time that I was forced to grapple with exactly how I was spending every moment. I couldn’t afford to waste half an hour on TikTok when articles needed to be edited and assignments needed to be submitted. I scheduled and streamlined everything, reading studies on productivity and writing agendas on what I wanted to discuss over dinner with friends. Am I neurotic? Likely. But it works.
My deep dark secret is that I’m a complete introvert. Behind my bubblegum pink facade is a woman who absolutely loves being alone, and the only time I ever have alone is when it’s dark. Having been raised in the Pacific Northwest, it’s something I cherish: a dark sky, the pitter-patter of nighttime rain on the roof, roommates who’ve long since fallen asleep and a silence that wraps me up like a weighted blanket. I wake up before my roommates every morning to watch the sunrise over my little street, shivering in sweatpants on my porch, rain or shine. I get home around 10 or 11 p.m. each night to a quiet house, tiptoeing into bed with my mug of orange spice tea, staying awake for another hour or two just to read.
I blame our Digital Managing Editor Jon for this. He’s the one who put me onto The Atlantic. It’s my daily reprise, 15 minutes I can take for myself to reflect on the strange, wonderful society I’m operating within. Analysis of Supreme Court prejudices coax my mind awake on the porch every morning and I unwind to pieces on the academic tendencies of Gen-Z women every night. I’ll scroll through the New York Times magazine in class, bookmarking articles to read over lunch.
Opposite to the constant barrage of breaking news, magazine articles force me to (for lack of more eloquent prose) just freaking stop. Sit down, they say to me. Listen to this. Forget about the case brief you need to write and the Desert Storm analysis you have due. Here’s this tiny little piece of the world you live in, take 15 minutes to think about nothing but that. For 15 minutes, this is all that matters.
I invite you to take 15 minutes to examine our peculiar world. College life is a fleeting utopia, a haven for aspiration and motivation within a few city blocks, everyone and everything you could ever need within landscaped walking distance. Unlike News, which is laser focused on getting readers crucial information, our Magazine offers a chance to dive deep into the idiosyncrasies under the surface of the university and young adult life.
In this issue, Yingying Yuan investigates a USC research lab developing haptic technology, an innovation that promises to let us physically feel virtual worlds. Nathan Elias and Reo, working off of a tip the masthead has been following for months, uncover the hilarious, ingenius history of disappearing campus squirrels and those who have dedicated their careers to studying them. In our cover story, Veronique Louis-Jacques interviews professor Jazlyn Mooney and geneticists across the country on groundbreaking research that can predict the number and ethnic roots of your ancestors, regardless of the largely impenetrable 1870 “brick wall” — the year African Americans were first included in the U.S. Census. Then, Jennifer Nehrer dives into her passion for the looming local news crisis and the impacts on democracy and polarization when local outlets shutter, before our issue is closed out by Christina Chkarboul’s perspective on the tween makeup craze, juxtaposed by current trends among adult women reminiscent of childhood.
This is our first issue of the semester, and if you’ve ever been one of my coworkers, you know my team and I at the Mag are just getting started. I sincerely hope you take your 15 minutes on your porch today to stop, read and think a little bit about how strange and wonderful our slice of society is.
Until next month,