Sitting and staring at a ceiling fan rotate, the fuzzy blades moving around and around, completely changes when you have dopamine-producing sound waves in your ears. Music, in its mix of notes, compression, and refraction of molecules causes a bubbling in my chest or a burning in my eyes. It can give the world a rose-colored filter, or make it red or blue, white or black. Some may experience it differently than I do, but the feeling music brings me is palpable, providing a meaning through sound to otherwise inexpressible emotions. 

It is interesting how simple shifts in sound waves can morph how I perceive things and the way I function on any given day. String-based melodies cast my world in various shades of brown, turning wooden-slatted houses into brick castles with mosaic windows with vines climbing up the sides. A deep bass tucked under string melodies makes the sky turn gray, with clouds on the brink of flooding the world. 

Songs with vocal reverb overlay on the world a grainy filter, like a TV with no signal, the antenna out of sorts. Songs with layered vocals build tension in my chest, soak the world in lavender, and bring more air to my lungs. It overwhelms my senses, leaving me buzzing and yearning for more.

Songs with an upbeat rhythm awaken within me an immeasurable need to move, and make my heart flutter like soda pop bubbles; the only way to release the carbonation is to shake it out of my bones. 

Music transports me to a multicolor world, with smiling faces, glitter-coated floors, and flashing lights dancing over the shimmery plastic fibers. A slower rhythm brings me to a river, the moonlight shifting in the rippling water. It feels like walking at 3 a.m. along the Erie Canal, reminiscing on years past.

An acoustic song brings me to a field, a mountain, or a lake. It immerses me in nature, my emotions, and the ones around me. Each strum of a guitar grows moss around my fingers, digging them into the earth below me. A banjo note causes the wind to uptick, the air pushing my hair off my face, clearing my sight to take in the beauty surrounding me. Woodwinds assisting the singer demonstrate a whimsical story of fantasy, love, and loss. It lets me linger in the pages of a leatherbound storybook, one with tales of kings and queens. 

It’s interesting how music transforms my life. Whenever I have the opportunity to sit and stare at the ceiling fan with music playing, I will. In the moment, I’m not just staring at the blades chasing after each other — I’m in a whole other dimension, with limitless opportunities.




Controversy ensues after “DWTS” Week 6

I was truly at an impasse and distraught: I didn’t want anyone to go home. But someone must. 

Douglass Institute and Department of Black Studies hosts post-election reflection forum

On Tuesday, Nov. 12, Hoyt Hall buzzed with over 30 people as the Frederick Douglass Institute and the Department of Black Studies hosted the Town Hall: Post-Election Reflection, One Week After.