Fast forward to today, five years after its previous album, Chip Chrome & The Mono-Tones. It’s clear the band seeks to revive this bygone aesthetic.

Released on Friday, (((((ultraSOUND))))) adheres to The Neighbourhood’s established style. With soft beats, airy vocals and emphatic guitar and bass lines, each song embodies The Neighbourhood’s notorious soft-grunge sound and trademark brand of seaside melancholy.

(((((ultraSOUND))))) opens with the song “Hula Girl,” a standout track. The upbeat drums and beginning guitar riffs reel listeners in, artfully juxtaposed by the song’s hopeless and lovesick lyrics.

“Hula Girl” presents a clever metaphor for toxic romance and desire. The lyrics, “Dashboard hula girl, honey / Come and treat me like a crash-test dummy,” illustrate yearning for a girl who brings beauty and fun into the singer’s life, even if he ends up irreparably damaged by their connection.

The song exemplifies the album’s grandiose soundtrack feel. The band portrays a nostalgic and cinematic quality that would lend itself well to any gritty or moody teen drama.

The better part of (((((ultraSOUND))))) takes on a consistent tone. Tracks include copious references to unhealthy aspects of romantic relationships, and their production style is largely similar.

[Florence + The Machine’s ‘Everybody Scream’ is a bewitching view into personal trauma]

Vocalist Jesse Rutherford’s whispery falsetto appears on every song, alongside atmospheric synth and substantial surf-rock influences. Prominent bass lines, percussion and guitar riffs round out each of them, bringing out the band’s signature moody sound.

The song “Planet” uses Rutherford’s vocals to evoke an otherworldly atmosphere. His voice is mixed with whispers and echoes of itself, which are layered atop an easy beat and fuzzy guitar that infuse the song with a hazy, ethereal feel.

Several upbeat tracks help break up the album, however, and keep it from feeling too monotonous. They let the album become something you can blast, windows down during a drive, without getting too blue.

The penultimate track, “Mute,” takes on a more cathartic and raw feel than the rest of the album, featuring upbeat instrumentals and repetitive lyrics.

While it starts relatively restrained, frustration and disarray break out in the chorus, culminating in an emotional climax that mirrors the lyrics’ rising passion. The steady drums and beat carry weight and energy to Rutherford’s vocals, and make the song especially memorable.

[Keep dancing on your own this cuffing season with these 4 films]

“Stupid Boy,” the album’s final song, contains a similar build in intensity.

The bridge of the song lists out several juxtapositions: “And thе mascot and the icon / And the hero and the tyrant / And the rabbit and the python / And the anthem and the fight zone.” Each exclamation frantically builds until the final lines are screamed, communicating the unease of the speaker at the opposing elements of life.

It’s an abrupt and haunting end to the album, yet it fits. The escalation of the bridge feels like the emotional buildup of each preceding track, presenting the inevitable anger from the sadness and despondency of all the songs before.

Ultimately, (((((ultraSOUND))))) doesn’t reinvent The Neighbourhood. But it doesn’t have to. It refines what the band does best: romantic alt-pop steeped in glamorous sadness, nostalgia and West Coast cool.

The album is a familiar return rather than a total transformation, and that’s a large part of its appeal. It knows its lane and drives it well, right along the California coast.

It can be an exhausting time of the year, from seeing people cling to their partner on your walk to class, to that obnoxious one-month anniversary post that makes you go, “What’s the big deal about four weeks of dating?” You can’t help but pity your single self.

While it’s usually seen as an achievement to get “cuffed” before the winter months, recent popular culture counters this idea, with a recently viral Vogue article reading, “Is having a boyfriend embarrassing now?” You might be better off facing the winter alone.

Although there is inevitable shame in not securing a boyfriend for the winter, these films will make you feel grateful for not falling into the obsessive trap that is love.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

You can’t help but think of the picturesque image of a lover saving you from your loneliness, but this film shows how it can bring disaster.

[Guillermo del Toro gives new life to ‘Frankenstein’ in latest adaptation]

Protagonists Clementine and Joel form a bond in their mutual distaste of life’s hardships, only to end up in a fatal heartbreak, culminating in a life-changing procedure to even attempt to move on from one another.

Seasonal depression is made a lot tougher while holding grudges against everyone who managed to secure a partner. But the thought of being enamored with someone to the point of needing all memories of them erased when it’s over is a little excessive, embarrassing even.

The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009)

Nothing spells out yearning more than Bella Swan staring out her window as fall passes into winter with a panoramic view of her depressing bedroom, Edward Cullen nowhere in sight.

While uncomfortably relatable, a post-breakup Bella was the most down bad anyone has ever been in film history. I mean, she literally jumps off a cliff because she wants to be with Edward again.

While being single is nothing less than difficult during cuffing season’s peak, you’ll always be better off than Bella screaming every night in her sleep because her vampiric boyfriend left her. Her dad even told her she needed to move out!

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

No character more perfectly depicts the deadweight of boyfriends than Andrea Sachs.

She let her insecure loser chef boyfriend make her feel bad about … being employed!

[2026 Grammy nominations signal Recording Academy’s disconnect from pop culture]

Imagine working for the top fashion magazine under the final boss of micromanagement, wearing off-runway clothes to work every day and getting front row seats to Paris fashion week — all for your boyfriend to deem it laughable and claim you’re losing yourself to some vain industry.

Talk about traditional sexist standards.

Lost in Translation (2003)

It’s all smiley faces, loving hugs and dinner dates under ambient lighting for the couples on your Instagram feed, or is it?

While there’s no denying some people might truly find their soulmate, this sentiment is likely untrue for everyone. It’s definitely not true for just recently married Charlotte, whose insomnia is caused by nothing more than her insecurity in her relationship.

Unimpressed by the culturally immersive and scenic sights of Japan, Charlotte mopes around, letting her ignorant and workaholic husband ruin what could’ve been an amazing vacation.

Slightly biographical of how Sofia Coppola — the queen of sad girl films — felt in her first marriage, her storytelling excellently depicts uncertainty when Charlotte holds back tears while phoning a friend, trying to pretend she’s happy and unable to be honest about the mess that is her life.

Honestly? Not an entirely rare experience for those in relationships.

The pieces Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor and Enigma were conducted by bands director Michael Votta Jr., and Rain on It and Ma Mère l’Oye (“Mother Goose”) Suite were conducted by orchestras director David Neely. 

The wind orchestra began their set with Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor by J.S. Bach, a piece dominated by the organ. Beginning slowly, the haunting melody rises dramatically, before capturing the audience in its awe and darkness. 

The piece used continued non-chord tones to create a vivid dialogue between various instruments, the performance striking in its unpredictability.

Arushi Srinivasan, a junior computer science and math major, praised the Wind Orchestra’s performances.

[‘Pretty girl humor’ trend is another excuse to bully people online]

“What struck out to me a lot about the Passacaglia were the question-answer phrases between the different parts of the orchestra,” Srinivasan said. “[There is] a very beautiful pattern that was established by Bach fugues, and I thought they did a really wonderful job articulating that.”

David Biedenbender’s Enigma similarly began with a soft, whimsical tone before surprising the audience with transitions into an intense melody comparable to a score out of Harry Potter.

Enigma, meaning riddle in Greek, signifies the piece’s dramatic progression as the supposed theme of the piece is revealed gradually through instrumental development.

Junior sociology major Genevieve Reineke said she liked the second piece’s organ accompaniment and highlighted Votta’s conducting.

“I really enjoyed seeing [Votta’s] movements and how that translated into the playing of the piece,” Reineke said.

Following the intermission, the performance switched to the Symphony Orchestra.

Rain on It by Kristin Kuster is a contemporary piece exploring feelings about the passage of time. In the event’s program, Kuster describes her resonation with rain, having often watched storms with her dad growing up in Boulder, Colorado. She wrote that rain feels like a “transition-time.”

In the piece, the dwelling and enraptured emotions that represent rain are drawn out through sequences of intense instrumentals. With fast-paced notes and rhythm, the piece takes the audience through a whirlwind of emotions until its sudden stop.

Evangeline Chen, a freshman biochemistry and music performance major, said they were surprised with Kuster’s piece.

“I’m not a big fan of contemporary pieces, but this one was actually really good,” Chen said. “I could get the feeling that the composer was talking about, the feeling of raining.”

Next was Maurice Ravel’s Ma Mère l’Oye (“Mother Goose”) Suite, a five movement piece that tells a different story each movement, including “Pavane of Sleeping Beauty” and “Conversations of Beauty and the Beast.” The piece, meant to evoke feelings of nostalgia, was refined in composition, making each movement slow and steady yet meaningful in its story.

The first movement, “Pavane de la Belle au Bois Dormant,” or “Pavane of Sleeping Beauty,” suspends time with the repetition of simple and quaint notes meant to awaken the princess.

[Guillermo del Toro gives new life to ‘Frankenstein’ in latest adaptation]

Every movement explores its stories through subtle and particular instrumental combinations, specifically “Le Jardin Féerique” or “The Fairy Garden.” With its celestial chimes, the orchestra proceeded into triumphant notes and bells that left a quiet but powerful impact on the audience with its childlike reminiscence.

Chen, who plays the viola, says the piece resonated with them because of past experiences playing the suite.

“It was definitely nostalgic hearing all of this again,” Chen said. “It was very mystical.”

USA Today defines “pretty girl humor” as “conventionally attractive women who attempt to seem quirky or relatable by subverting typically feminine behavior.” Examples of pretty girl humor include an infatuation with the name “Bob,” calling popular and mainstream things “nerdy” and an obsession with outdated memes.

The trend gained traction over Halloween when many women opted for masculine and humorous costumes, such as The Lorax or Hamilton.

[Guillermo del Toro gives new life to ‘Frankenstein’ in latest adaptation]

In response to these comedic attempts, people online expressed gratitude that they grew up weird instead of “pretty” and without a sense of humor. The general consensus seems to be that unattractive people learn to compensate for their looks through humor and pretty people never have to.

This is not a new phenomenon — women online are often dissed for attempts at being relatable. The term “quirky” has held a negative connotation for some time. “Pretty girl humor” calls to mind the mustache-loving millennials of the early 2010s, an all but extinct group that overlaps heavily with the often derided “manic pixie dream girl” concept.

But this trend calls to mind an imperative question —  why are people actually doing this? Seriously.

In an era of fast-paced, gluttonous media consumption, we can all benefit from slowing down and fully unpacking the trends we consume. Why are people using the label “pretty girl humor” to, in essence, make fun of strangers online?

Some viewers may consider this trend a way of “punching up” or resisting the persistent influence of attractive people in our society. Conventionally pretty girls such as Sydney Sweeney seem to gain power from their appearances. Based on this, those with “pretty girl humor” are seen as deserving of the criticism by virtue of their privilege.

Others claim those with “pretty girl humor” are the same type of people who would bully them as children, so criticism of their unfunniness is morally justified.

This form of rationalization is common online: bullying is okay as long as they really deserve it. Bad people are always fair game.

At the same time, some people argue the phrase is an extension of society’s constant criticism of women. Halloween costumes of corsets and stockings are lampooned as provocative and attention-seeking, but self-effacing Lorax staches are cringey and trying too hard to be different. There is no correct way to be.

The real underlying issue with the “pretty people humor” concept goes deeper than everyday internet misogyny. It speaks to the current wave of bullying online that has made social media a hostile landscape.

Why are these people being made fun of? Because their cringiness shows privilege? Because they weren’t teased growing up? The anonymity of online spaces makes these reasons feel more valid than they are. In reality, a person’s unfunniness is not an adequate cause for bullying.

[2026 Grammy nominations signal Recording Academy’s disconnect from pop culture]

Disrespecting strangers is far too normalized on social media. We disregard it and accept that putting oneself online means consenting to hate comments. But trends like these ask us to forget our empathy in favor of a cheap laugh. The more we participate, the more humanity we lose.

No matter what “pretty people” may represent in the grand scheme of our superficial society, we all need to remember that they are people first. Even when they are sporting orange jumpsuits and bushy yellow mustaches, they are people.

And so are we.

When nominations for the 68th Grammy Awards appeared on my Instagram feed, I found myself confused about the selection. There was the expected mix of known names and the up-and-comers who’ve taken over the music scene this year. Despite this, it seems the Grammys don’t understand what’s popular anymore.

When some of this year’s music was first released, I was disappointed. But somewhere between long car rides and TikTok trends, many songs grew on me, such as “Daisies” by Justin Bieber and “No One Noticed” by The Marías. To me, Best New Artist is the most exciting Grammys category. It always feels fresh and unpredictable, but this year it did just the opposite. Instead of being about a new discovery in the music world, this year’s lineup does not give us an accurate look at what’s new. 

Many of the artists nominated are first-time releases this year, but it’s disappointing that young artists who have been nominated in the past can’t have a second chance at this award after producing something new and more successful.

[Guillermo del Toro gives new life to ‘Frankenstein’ in latest adaptation]

The Grammys have always defined the “best” of the industry. But a few artists who really shaped what people were listening to this year are nowhere to be found on the nominations list. Where is Gracie Abrams? Her album, The Secret of Us, debuted at No. 2 on the U.S. Billboard 200,  and her single “That’s So True” hit No. 4 on the Billboard Global 200. She also wrapped up her sold-out world tour, so it feels impossible that someone with that kind of fanbase got skipped. 

Same with pop powerhouse Tate McRae. Her album, So Close To What, debuted No. 1 on the U.S. Billboard 200, and her dance performances have taken over everyone’s feeds. 

And seriously, wasn’t Billie Eilish’s “Wildflower” a 2024 track? Why is it being discussed again? 

The timing of some nominations feels messy, and makes me wonder if the Grammys are so focused on drawing a wide audience by nominating major past winners such as Eilish that they’re forgetting to keep up with pop culture itself and nominate newcomers. It seems the Recording Academy is too distracted by chasing trends — “Wildflower” went viral online — that the public is already attached to, it’s overlooking the music breaking through right now. 

It’s the same issue that makes the Best New Artist lineup feel less exciting. Instead of recognizing who is actually pushing the music industry in a new direction, the Grammys seem to be stuck rewarding who already has. 

Take Wicked, for example. The movie has been a huge cultural moment this year, with its marketing taking over everything from Dunkin’ drinks to eyeshadow palettes, so its soundtrack nominations make sense. 

But it feels like the Grammys are giving awards to what’s most talked about, rather than the actual sounds, messages and talent. Everyone loves a big pop culture moment to bond over, especially one that allows you to belt “Defying Gravity,” but highly marketed music can overshadow smaller albums and artists that truly deserve the same amount of attention. 

The dance-pop category is packed with familiar names such as Lady Gaga and Selena Gomez, which feels nostalgic because of their early 2000s fame, but also predictable as Grammys favorites. 

[Nia Sioux’s ‘Bottom of the Pyramid’ is a powerful, but unsurprising strike at ‘Dance Moms’]

Album of the Year might be the one category that feels strong and competitive. Between Kendrick Lamar, Sabrina Carpenter and Bad Bunny, the nominations reflect the breadth of today’s popular music. 

The Grammys attempt to reflect pop culture, but sometimes can’t find the artists who really define the industry. Music going viral because of social media trends and marketing tactics seem to be defining many of this year’s nominations. 

Guillermo del Toro’s long-awaited movie stars Oscar Isaac as Victor Frankenstein, Jacob Elordi as the Creature and Mia Goth as Elizabeth. Set in early to mid-19th century Europe, Frankenstein follows the tale of obsessed scientist Victor Frankenstein’s journey to create life from the dead. 

The main story is told primarily through flashbacks and while his unkillable Creature hunts for him, Victor finds refuge with Captain Anderson, an explorer in the Arctic searching for the North Pole, and begins to share his life story. As a child, the tragic death of Victor’s mother led him to study death, life and reanimation. Much later, the scientist meets Herr Harlander, a wealthy and mysterious man who offers to fund his experiments. 

[Nia Sioux’s ‘Bottom of the Pyramid’ is a powerful, but unsurprising strike at ‘Dance Moms’]

But in Victor’s obsessive attempts to create life, he causes more death. His story of ego, violence and love forces the audience to grapple with an integral question —  in this iconic tale of monster versus man, who is really the monster?

Frankenstein is quintessential del Toro. His signature gothic visuals translate the story’s themes beautifully onto film. Dark and cool-toned cityscapes are contrasted against blood red accents in Victor’s clothing and the actual blood in his workshop.

The color red is a recurring motif throughout the film . Frankenstein’s gloves are red, foreshadowing the future blood on his hands. His forbidden love, Elizabeth, wears a bright red cross necklace in reference to her tragic fate.

Be warned: this movie is unapologetically gory. Before the Creature is formed, Frankenstein’s anatomical experiments are on full display. Ligaments are exposed, legs sawed off and skinless amalgamations are granted horrifying animation. Where other films may cut away or fade to black, Frankenstein lingers on its horror.

When the monster is brought to life with the iconic lightning bolt, we zoom into the experiment’s lifeless body. In disturbing detail, its grossly realistic heart begins to beat and revitalize the inner organs.

Del Toro’s Frankenstein succeeds where so many others have failed as an adaptation. Fans of the novel will be pleased by the film’s rendition of the Creature, a deeply compelling and tragic figure. Whereas popular culture frames the Monster as an unthinking, zombie-like beast, Frankenstein stays true to the novel by granting him intelligence and true empathy.

Elordi’s performance as the Monster is hauntingly beautiful. We witness his evolution from childlike and curious to mature and vengeful. Although he’s unable to speak when he is first created, Elordi conveys the Creature’s sadness, happiness, fury and curiosity through body language alone in a truly poetic rendition of the character.

But, Frankenstein is not perfect. There are many differences between the film and the novel with some more successful than others.

The film dwells for a considerable amount of time in Victor’s castle laboratory, where the recently animated Creature is chained up for experimentation. In the novel, Victor runs from the beast as soon as it comes to life, cementing his role as an absent and negligent creator. This alteration from the source material changes Frankenstein’s role in the Creature’s life, but it also allows for the two to form a deeper connection over a long period of time.

[UMD students go the distance training for marathons]

The film’s long opening puts it at a disadvantage later on. The pacing in the last 30 minutes feels rushed compared to the intricately laid-out scenes in Frankenstein’s laboratory and later, the Creature’s hideout — as if the film ran out of time for its own climax. 

Frankenstein is, above all else, a tragedy. The film’s decision to speed up two major finale scenes feels slightly unearned and disconnected from the last half hour of violence.

But perhaps the suddenness of the change is a testament to the father-son symbolism peppered throughout the film and source material. Despite every cruel action and mistake, the Maker and his Adam are forever intertwined. Two halves of a monstrous, innately human whole.

Nia Sioux pirouettes along the line of refreshing truth and self validation in her memoir Bottom of the Pyramid, sharpening each point of this multi-sided answer. 

Released on Tuesday, the book is practically a horror novel. A former child star on the reality series Dance Moms, Sioux recounts the Abby Lee Dance Company and its atmosphere of bullying and racial discrimination that she grew up with. 

While some of the other dancers on choreographer Abby Lee Miller’s competition team have also published memoirs, Sioux’s is the only one to strike back against her perpetrators. 

Anyone who claims to have once loved Dance Moms is in for a media literacy audit. Yes, reality TV is not meant to be reliable, but while Bottom of the Pyramid provides context to the moms’ infamous on-screen faceoffs, anyone who cared enough to read between the lines could’ve predicted this book a decade ago. 

[Navigate seasonal blues with these 4 podcasts]

The book begins with a foreword by a fellow Dance Moms child star, Chloe Lukasiak, whispering over the notable political points. Though sentimental while giving Sioux her flowers, it was mediocre. It felt like she didn’t read the book herself and just wrote the most generic thing she could. She explained her personal perspective, but I cannot say it was moving. It was too brief to budge me. 

Nevertheless, Bottom of the Pyramid reads easily, flowing well out of necessity of its heavy subject matter.

Sioux recovers in the following introduction, explaining her scarred thought process behind the book’s title. Miller would rank the dancers’ performance weekly, with their headshots taped in a pyramid formation on a wall. She belittled whoever found themselves at the bottom as the weakest link. 

This was often Sioux, every week. In the book, she equates the bottom of the pyramid to be the strongest piece. The pyramid itself wouldn’t exist without it — those at the top couldn’t appreciate the skyline without the foundation’s support. 

“I’ve always known one important reality: When you’re at the bottom, the only place you can go is up,” Sioux wrote.

Her mother was a dancer and her parents signed her up at Miller’s dance studio out of pure convenience for its location. Neither knew the gasoline they were purchasing when investing in lessons with Miller. 

Sioux calls Miller’s presence “tremendous,” describing her to be “loud, big, and usually draped in black.” Miller forced her to wear yellow, Sioux writes, insisting that Black people look best in yellow. 

Sioux’s favorite color is pink.

Most dancers at the studio were scared of Miller, and Sioux makes it clear this memoir is not meant to be kind in Miller’s characterization as a “real live Miss Trunchbull from Matilda.”

Recounting countless incidents such as racially charged remarks, age-inappropriate gifts and routines, body shaming, social ostracism, screaming matches, career sabotage, crafted rivalries, instigated meltdowns and manipulated footage — Sioux sheds light on Lifetime feeding kindling to the dance company dumpster fire for ratings.

Again, anyone who paid any sort of attention knew this already. Miller would play nice for the camera when she could be bothered, but her nasally compliments never felt genuine, no matter the meaningful back score the producers would slap on the final edit. Part of the drama was that the audience knew the scale was rigged and production was corrupt. Every once in a while, Sioux would get thrown a sympathy bone, and the audience would rally behind the underdog character that the producers made out of her. 

This book added shocking context to some of the things the audience didn’t see, but those who actually paid attention can skip it. The episodes tell on themselves.

[UMD students go the distance training for marathons]

Holly Frazier didn’t remove her daughter from the studio because of their tricky contract with Lifetime and because of Sioux’s relentless determination to keep going. She stayed on Dance Moms for seven seasons, from ages nine to 15, appearing longer than any other dancer.

Dancing between to stay or to go meant that Sioux’s pirouettes were across hot coals, both then and now. Then, she stayed and grew thicker soles. Now, she writes that she does not regret what shaped her.

There was warmth there, Sioux insists, friendships and memories and irreplaceable character development. 

And the cover is gorgeous. Sioux sits in a vibrant yellow dress among a memorial of her old dance costumes, triumphant. 

Despite less than 1 percent of the U.S. population having completed a marathon, according to Everyday Health, many University of Maryland students are ready to take on the challenge.

If training to run 26.2 miles wasn’t enough, another semester of college adds to the pressure. Some students at this university aren’t letting that hold them back, like Camilla Rinaldi.

The senior environmental science and policy major ran the Marine Corps Marathon in October. This was Rinaldi’s second marathon, having run her first one last fall on the C&O Canal Towpath, a nearly 185-mile trail along the Potomac River.

Training for the marathon while balancing college life was stressful, Rinaldi said.

“Some days I’d have to get up at 5 a.m. just so I’d be done running by nine and then could go to my 10 a.m. class,” she said. “It was a sacrifice that I wanted to make in the end.”

[UMD students go for gold in D1 Mario Kart club]

Katie Monahan, a senior marketing and supply chain management major, acknowledged the difficulty of training alongside academics.

Like Rinaldi, she said she sometimes struggled with motivation, especially during her grueling training sessions.

“I’d be waking up before all my roommates and running for four hours … it was hard,” Monahan said. “But it was all worth it in the end.”

Both Rinaldi and Monahan said they ultimately found the inspiration to continue pushing on, despite the hardships.

As a long-distance runner since fifth grade, Rinaldi said she still finds it thrilling.

“I always knew I was going to do a marathon. I just didn’t know it would be this early in my life because I thought it would be too hard to do with college,” Rinaldi said. “But after running for so many months, you just kind of get your schedule down.”

Monahan said her dad, who ran around 30 marathons, inspired her to try one herself.

As Monahan ran her first-ever marathon, her dad ran his 22nd and final Marine Corps Marathon.

[Navigate seasonal blues with these 4 podcasts]

“He gave me a lot of advice on how to train and how to fuel properly,” Monahan said.

For students like Malia Schmelzer, these long-distance runs can become more spontaneous affairs.

Schmelzer, a sophomore philosophy, politics and economics and Spanish major, ran her first half marathon on Saturday at the Ocean City Running Festival.

She went into the half marathon with minimal training. Schmelzer wanted to get back into running and decided to try out a half marathon for fun.

“I didn’t know what I was getting into, but there were a lot of people,” Schmelzer said. “The adrenaline’s gonna get you through, even if you haven’t really run a whole lot.”

Schmelzer called the half marathon a “great experience,” with support from both runners and crowds on the sidelines.

“Families everywhere … everybody from all ages there cheering, it was just really wholesome,” Schmelzer said.

After completing her first half, Schmelzer tossed around the idea of a full marathon in the future but with more training. Monahan similarly sees herself continuing to run marathons after college. Rinaldi hopes to do one marathon every year.

Monahan said that once you start running races as long as half and full marathons, you have to keep going back for more.

“I feel like I have the bug now. It was just so much fun,” Monahan said. “And the crowd was so great that I think it’s just something that will be fun to work towards.”

To escape the winter woes, it can be tempting to throw on headphones and tune out the world. That’s where podcasts come in. You can listen to discussions about virtually anything in a variety of contexts and formats if your usual winter playlist isn’t helping the blues. 

Whether you need some extra motivation, perspective or escape from everyday life, these four podcasts will help carry you through your seasonal blues. 

[‘I love LA’ is Rachel Sennott’s love letter to Gen-Z]

The Psychology of Your 20s

While many students aren’t fully into their 20s yet, this podcast discusses a variety of relatable topics they might encounter. New episodes, hosted by Australian author and mental health advocate Jemma Sbeg, drop every Tuesday and Friday. Sbeg’s content is fairly educational, but her relaxing cadence and thoughtful explanations give them a soothing factor. 

Episodes 60 and 64 deal with seasonal depression and feelings of loneliness, but the series also features other topics such as the science behind grudges, anxiety in relationships and emotional immaturity. Whatever you’re going through, this podcast can help contextualize and understand your experiences through psychology. 

anything goes with emma chamberlain

anything goes shows social media personality Emma Chamberlain at her most introspective. The way Chamberlain speaks creates a comforting space and evokes the feeling of a conversation with a good friend. 

One episode from November 2022 addresses Chamberlain’s experiences with seasonal depression and lack of motivation. Other topics she’s covered include debates, opinions and personal advice to her listeners. This podcast won Chamberlain the 2020 People’s Choice Award for best pop podcast.New episodes drop every Thursday and Sunday.

The Broski Report with Brittany Broski

From kombucha girl-turned-influencer Brittany Broski comes The Broski Report with Brittany Broski. This podcast is a complete smorgasbord — covering the host’s weekly obsessions and contemplations, which range from historyto celebrity culture, literature and music.

Episodes release weekly, normally on Tuesdays. Broski jumps from subject to subject in an arbitrary but enjoyable way. If you’re looking to laugh through your struggles this season, The Broski Report has what you’re looking for. 

[The Clarice’s Fall Big Band Showcase spotlights student jazz talent]

The A24 Podcast

The film studio behind Midsommar, Lady Bird and Everything Everywhere All At Once released its podcast in 2018 with a discussion between directors Greta Gerwig and Barry Jenkins. 

Each episode follows this formula, inviting celebrities to have conversations with prominent figures in the film industry. Hosts such as Andrew Garfield, Sofia Coppola and Pedro Pascal have appeared and spoken about childhood experiences, fame and future projects.

This podcast offers a glimpse into the realities of Hollywood, the film industry and experiences of the guests it features. Illuminating and engaging, The A24 Podcast will take you away from the lull of everyday life and onto the film sets and back lots of your favorite media.

Presented by the University of Maryland music school, the showcase included performances by three jazz ensembles: University Jazz Band, Jazz Lab Band and Jazz Ensemble.

As students and visitors entered the concert hall, a projector above the stage displayed fun facts about the night’s music selection and the music school.

“I’m here to listen to some good jazz,” sophomore supply chain management major Elliot McNeal said before the concert. “I had some free time tonight, so just trying to relax after a stressful semester.”

[UMD students go for gold in D1 Mario Kart club]

The night’s theme was “The Basics of Basie,” a reference to the life and music of Count Basie. The bandleader’s music and leadership were pivotal in making big band jazz into what it is today. His ensemble, the Count Basie Orchestra, carries on his legacy.

“We just wanted to bring it back to the basics with Basie,” said Gio Hidalgo, a freshman jazz studies major and percussionist for Jazz Lab Band. “Most of the tunes were either written by Count Basie, written for Count Basie or written for his orchestra.”

University Jazz Band, an ensemble mainly made up of non-music majors, opened the showcase. Musicians began with the standard “In a Mellow Tone,” composed by Duke Ellington and arranged by Mark Taylor. The song’s smooth melody began in the saxophone section before transferring to the back row trumpets, which joined the saxes in a calland-response style.

Student musicians relied on one another and the steady rhythm section — guitars, keys, drums and bass — to stay in one piece. Ensemble leaders played only a supporting role in the performances, clapping along to the rhythm and occasionally signaling to players.

Bringing together the ensemble is a lengthy process. Jamie Pankratz, a freshman majoring in aerospace engineering and jazz studies who plays alto in the Lab Band, said rehearsals begin by selecting potential charts and sight-reading. Students then learn their own parts before coming together as a group.

Student instrumentalists in each ensemble showcased their musical talent through improvised solos within the written pieces.

Jazz Lab Band, comprised of both music and non-music majors, featured several soloists in their six pieces. The third song, “Don’t Git Sassy” by Thad Jones, included a tenor saxophone solo that could only be described as exceptionally stanky.

[‘Bugonia’ is another success from Yorgos Lanthimos, Emma Stone]

The night’s final instrumental group, the Jazz Ensemble, featured solos by talented professional musicians affiliated with the Count Basie Orchestra.

Senior Master Sgt. Grant Langford, a former member of the orchestra, played an amazing solo on the saxophone.  

Clarence Banks, longtime trombonist for Basie’s orchestra, performed a creative solo in the song “I Need to Be Bee’d With” with the help of a trombone mute.

For percussionist Hidalgo, the emotions of the music, both in the audience and on stage, were paramount.

“I was literally smiling the entire time,” Hidalgo said “That’s super important when it comes to big band jazz, just having it feel good. And I think we did a pretty good job today.”