I think I hate brain rot the most. This week the major brain rot topic is Youtuber KSI’s new song “Thick of it”. You don’t understand how much of a struggle it is to hear the same line over and over today. I literally couldn’t think of a free write topic to do because my brain could only think, “from the screen to the ring to the pen to the king”. It’s not even a good song. 

But why do we have such degenerate jokes these days? Well, there’s many reasons, but I think that it mainly comes from a post-Covid society that is slightly insane and willing to acknowledge its worst parts. What do I mean by this? It seems like every time a new meme comes up, it resurges about half a year later but in an entirely different context. The second wave is always making fun of how dumb the first wave was. In that way, pop culture has gone super meta and taken very popular topics and turned them into laughingstocks for ‘cringe culture’. In modern society, there’s the shock and the aftershock. 

A primary example would be the word “rizz”. It feels weird saying that when attempting to be professional, but here we are. The word rizz originated as a legitimate word to describe someone with charisma that is a romantic. In late 2022 to early 2023, rizz was an unironic compliment. Now in 2024, it’s used in an ironic and unironic manner. Just this morning, I heard someone talking about how they are “rizzing up a girl” (It sounds cringe, but bare with me). At the same time though, now it’s being used to make fun of people or used in brain rot jokes. The beginning of rizz as a joke started around when “Baby Gronk rizzed up Livvy Dunne”. What does that mean? Both Baby Gronk and Livvy Dunne are popular on TikTok, and them meeting up became a popular joke as a result. Their starpower, the sheer silliness of the situation, and the stupidity of the internet triggered the aftershock for the meaning of rizz. What was already a stupid word has now become a cesspool of brain rot. Anything good we create, anything fun to do, anyone who made the unfortunate decision to post on the site formerly known as Twitter may be subject to the painful and destructive power of brain rot.

By the way, keep in mind when I say “everyone”, I mean young people. With a few exceptions of old people getting in on the joke, it seems the younger the test subjects get, the more rotted their brains are. What will society be like when Gen Alpha is running the show? The answer: CHAOS.

We popularize media, and then repopularize it. It’s the newest, dumbest, ugliest iteration of the circle of life. Call it the “Circle of Brain Rot”. We don’t have any control over it. Will we ever recover? No.

I’m going to have “Thick of It” stuck in my head for another few weeks, then likely forget about it. After that, me and the rest of the world will be waiting for the aftershock. Make sure you have proper shelter when the disaster strikes once more. Are you ready? Just make sure when it hits to stay away from windows (computer windows, that is). Stay safe readers!

I have rarely had the excitement to write a piece more than I have right now. My thoughts on the contemporary arcade have been like Sisyphus’ boulder, I have had my opinions, but any attempt to share it or put it into words left me back at the beginning of how little I knew of its cause. Maybe I still do not, but if you will allow me to push this boulder to the top of this hill, you might just enjoy the view.

The first arcade was created in 1971 by Atari, who followed up their success a year later with “Pong.” From then on the video game industry exploded, and thus, the arcade industry. This marks the golden age of arcades. Pay the minimum to enjoy the maximum. Play with your friends, against them, and most importantly enjoy the game… not the reward.

The downfall of arcades was pioneered by a little mustached plumber. The man who stomped on arcades and gave us the power up of playing video games in our homes. 

“Well actually, Mario started in the game ‘Donkey Kong’ which was an arca—”

No that is not Mario, the original character was given the incredibly creative name: Jumpman. With that factoid out of the way, where were we? Console gaming; the invention that shifted the video game industry’s focus from arcade games to console games. Why go to the arcade and pay per play, when you can buy it once and play endlessly at home? The question resonated through homes and businesses alike, as producers invested in satiating this influx of demand with consumers meeting the demand perpetually. All of this leaves the arcade to rot, as it watches what it started grow exponentially, but reaping none of the benefit.

In today’s world, the modern arcade is left to Chuck E Cheeses, mini golf courses, and if you are lucky, a retro arcade that survived the Nintendo-pocalypse. I had my eleventh birthday at such a place which is the likely catalyst of this piece, because no modern arcade is worth your time or your money.

That is because of one decision. The decision to add a ticket system to arcade games, in exchange for real life rewards. The idea seems harmless, but its implications have been detrimental. This is due to the fact that arcades no longer had to entertain, it had to reward. Today’s arcades boil down into three main game styles: Gambling games, statistically rigged games, and high end interactive games. The first two being the majority of arcade stuffers. You have seen them before, the giant fish slot wheel, the vibrant red ball drop into the spinning slots, and the light ring jump rope. These are all copy and paste models that are as contagious as viruses in today’s arcades. These viruses make kids lose the essence of what arcades are really about. Instead of kids leaving happy that they got a unique experience, they leave disappointed that they did not get enough tickets to get the 50,000 ticket Nintendo Switch by gambling fifty dollars on fish bowl plinko.

I understand why the ticket and credit system was created, arcades simply were not profitable so they made it profitable by the cheapest means necessary. The gaming industry was not investing as much money into arcade favorable games, and so there was little to do. Luxury was a vice. So Little Vegas operates by seeing the entertainment of youth as dollar signs and credits.

There is hope. At almost every arcade there is one diamond in the rough, one easter egg, a game that is made solely for entertainment. Of course, these games hardly give out any tickets, but that is the point, good arcades should not make money the same way casinos and carnivals do. Arcades should make money on entertainment. Entertainment grounded on innovation and creation that has long been the foundation of gaming’s success.

Video games are an art and the creative minds behind it should not have to wonder if their game guarantees their buyers profit by playing the odds against its consumers. The only guarantee should be passion. The passion of the creators who innovate, except there is an issue: there is no shortage of passion, but rather an investment in it. Audiences feel when passion is imbued into creation and the world needs to support more of it. It is never about the tickets, and it is even less about the prize you attain. The game is enjoyed by playing, by exploring, by the thrill of competition against yourself and others. It is passion. And passion is what makes pushing the boulder, a little more like a video game.

The sharp autumn air was actually a calming refuge. I fled from the panic inside the house. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t dare step outside in the t-shirt and shorts I was sporting. But these were not normal circumstances. I realized I almost felt nothing at all; I was numb to the world around me. I watched from my backyard, frightened, but unable to avert my gaze, as the ambulance arrived and first responders poured through the front door. Shortly after, I witnessed my older sister being carried out of the house and off to the hospital to have her stomach pumped. She had overdosed on sleeping medication.

My sister, my personal hero, transitioned from a role of unwavering support to someone who now needed to be supported herself. This shifted perspective allowed me to become a beacon of compassion by expanding my understanding of the meaning of being empathic.

Unbeknownst to little Gabe, managing such difficult emotions at a young age had some unexpected benefits. Although at times frightening, the ever evolving relationship I developed with my sister brought forth in me the resilience and grit necessary to be a fair and evocative leader, in all aspects of my life.

Seeing something so jarring was at first very difficult to comprehend at 12. I began with simple distractions, diversions like focusing on school work, playing video games, and spending lots of time out of the house. But running from my feelings could only lead me so far. I knew I would have to accept and work through what my sister had been through, and in turn, accepting and processing my own feelings about what had occurred. Writing and drawing helped a lot. I constantly wrote out how I was feeling and drew representations of my thoughts allowing my creativity to grow alongside my emotional understanding. Through accepting the situation for what it was and embracing the changing nature of my life, I was eventually able to similarly embrace a new relationship with my sister. That being, one of understanding and unconditional love.

While becoming slightly more capable of processing tough experiences is useful, how could that lead someone to becoming a better leader? The answer, simply put, is compassion.

Possessing the capability of understanding and sympathizing with other humans has granted me the ability to be fair to others. By developing a deep understanding of my own emotional wellbeing, it became easier to see the world from others’ perspectives, allowing me to be both fair and nurturing as a leader.

The ocean is one of the most beautiful things one can experience. It’s a mystery, but in that mystery is where we find life. The waves are crashing day by day. Just as the ocean can be pretty and peaceful to society it can be just as destructive. Tsunamis are one of the most destructive forces humanity has even seen. A tsunami always starts really small then reaches heights no one could imagine.  Society just like the ocean may seem beautiful, which at times can be. But just like a tsunami society starts off with really small issues and mistakes that become something stronger than ever over time. The sudden and violent transition from calm to chaos that the ocean goes through is a reflection of human experiences. Throughout a person’s life emotions and feelings tend to crash down like waves. Whether it be the death of a family or friend which can cause one to be really down or everything could be going perfect. Nothing stays the same in life, there will always be an inevitable crash like a wave. 

A Tsunami uncontrollably destructive  gives purpose to people affected by it. The destruction a tsunami causes brings chaos amongst society. Emotions no one has experienced before both good and bad. One single tsunami can ruin a whole coast which it has done in the past. Similar to how peoples crashes of emotions can and will impact the people around them in a negative way. In life crashes are expected to happen; it's about how one takes this and moves forward in a positive way. Majority of society moves in a negative way affecting the people around them. It’s a choice that can be difficult but is essential for the future of society. Tsunamis are great examples of how destructive society is. The ocean is so powerful and yet beautiful at the same time. Humans are very much alike. One could be on top of the world accomplishing everything they could ever imagine. It is inevitable that it will never stay at a high one must accept that and many don't. Which causes a lot of people to crashout mentally and just give up. One must realize it is nothing they can do so may as well keep going and every time you fall get back up. When society begins to think this way a change will come. After a tsunami people realize there is nothing they can do to stop the tsunami. They must let the damage happen and pick up the broken pieces after the fact and go on with life.

The same way that something is created it must be destroyed as well. You can’t have one without the other, everything must come and go. It is inevitable. After a tsunami society is seen coming together to restore their beautiful communities. It is only through chaos that true unity is found. Through the destruction is unity, absolute beauty is created when humans unite for a good cause. The challenge in life is accepting the destruction of a tsunami and taking that crash towards the positive side rather than allowing it to consume and destroy like it was meant to do.

By understanding the similarities between the catastrophic event of a tsunami and the experiences of society; there can be greater appreciation and gratitude for the differences amongst one another and the beauty in our differences, as well as accepting the call to come together to accomplish something much bigger than yourself.

I miss the days of my life that I will inevitably forget. The way that I recall past experiences has been concerning me lately. Everything that I have personally experienced has occurred within the span of the last seventeen years. My third birthday in Big Bear, California happened fourteen years ago, I got lost at a crowded carnival eleven years ago, the most embarrassing violin recital of my life happened seven years ago, and I started high school four years ago. And now, I have six months before high school is over.

There are some things I will never forget. First childhood memories, biggest childhood fears, happiest moments, and the milestone “first-times” all stand out in how they remain relatively unharmed by the corrosion of time. Even random, unspecial memories will stick with me, but what about the memories I have already forgotten about?

To some degree, my memories are backed up by those who also experienced an occasion. A friend, parent, sibling, acquaintance, or even a stranger somewhere out there might be able to attest to something that we both witnessed in any measure of time ago. But what about the moments I never shared with another person? Even scarier, what happens to the memories that I made alone when I forget about them?

Sometimes I think I might catch a glimpse at something I have forgotten. Vaguely familiar smells, feelings, places, names, and sounds all clue me in to what I could once remember, but now, these forgotten memories only exist in the faintest sense of deja vu. The question begs on me. Where did I once encounter this forgotten whisper of a memory? Something wants me to remember, but my mind cannot find it. It is a bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it? Forgotten memories.

Even now, in yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I worry about the experiences that are forever lost or tainted by the unreliable jumble of the mind. I wonder someday, if people might be able to back up their memories. Maybe it will be possible to save trunks of memory to a greater, infallible storage space. Maybe memories will be treated the same as files that we upload to a server. Maybe experiences will be like software held in a database. But for now, all we can settle for is what we remember, and whatever physical account we have to remind us of the past.

I dearly miss the days of my life that I will forget. Whether it be yesterday, today, or tomorrow, I can only accept the fact that it is all impermanent. It is almost nice in a sense. Some experiences are special in how they are only comprehended until they are forgotten; there must be some value in that.

I saw a dead deer. Then I took another step along the winding trail, walking in the steps of the horses that just passed by. I almost slipped on the wet stones, but the mist felt so good that it was worth the risk. I enjoyed the dip in the stream and the coolness and freshness of the water. That break felt so good. I remember driving back with the windows down and feeling the air hit my skin and cool my mind. The smell of the trees was so fresh, a smell I hadn’t experienced in a while. I saw a dead deer. Then I took a step backwards. What have we done? 

My love for the outdoors inspired me to take on and conquer the hardest physical feat I have ever accomplished: climbing to the peak of Yosemite’s Half Dome. The hike was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Seven miles up, my legs were aching, and the air was thin, making it hard to breathe. I had never been more scared in my life. I looked down at the 4,000 foot drop and I freaked out, but I had already committed — the only way to go was up. After I finally recentered myself, I focused on ascending each plank one at a time. I gradually climbed until I looked up and I had reached the top. As I stood nearly 5,000 feet above Yosemite valley, I saw the most beautiful view of my life. 

Along the Half Dome Trail I had to climb up slippery rocks, push through the pain of my aching legs, and search for what little energy I had left. However, I stretched myself further, and further, and further. I accomplished more than I ever could have imagined. I wanted to quit. I ran out of water, got a cramp in my stomach, and looked death in the eye. But when I reached my goal and sat on top of the mountain, I reflected on the moments when I thought about giving up. I smiled because if I had, I wouldn’t know what it feels like to be on top of the world. 

As I appreciated all of this beauty, I thought back to the dead deer. Our society has bled our failures onto an innocent creature that is simply just existing. What have we done? We’re destroying nature. One of the few places that I feel free. 

Have you ever woken up at 4:00 a.m., walked about two miles up a mountain on extremely rocky terrain, and saw the sun rise over the beautiful landscape of New Mexico that you have been backpacking through the past twelve days and now finally see where you began your adventure sixty miles ago? The mountain that you are on is called the Tooth of Time, located in Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico. All that is between you and civilization  is about a five mile descent back into the camp. Soon the days of carrying thirty to fifty pounds of weight each day for about five to fifteen miles, eating meals from meal bags, enduring rain mostly every day, using latrines and making holes to have a restroom, creating bear bags so bears will not walk around your camp, and much more will finally be replaced with modern amenities that have been left behind when you took your first few steps out of the camp. The adventure that I am describing is none other than Philmont, a backpacking trip featuring 140,000 acres of land, an adventure that tens of thousands- and counting- of hikers have embarked on, and views of the Sanger de Cristo Range of the Rocky Mountains in northern New Mexico near the town of Cimarron. The trip may have cost hundreds of dollars to attend and however much was spent on supplies and clothes at REI, yet it will be one that I will always see as priceless.

Philmont is not an adventure that you can show up to and expect to complete a trek. You have to complete numerous training hikes to even come close to being prepared to embark on the adventure. All of the scouts that attended the trip needed to have completed most of the required hikes to be able to be prepared for Philmont. The hikes that we practiced on were Angeles National Forest, Echo Mountain, and many more. For the training hikes, we practiced with and without weight. For the hikes with weight, we would hike with equipment that we would carry for Philmont to emulate the trek before we would be there. For the training hikes without weight, we were establishing our fundamentals of hiking and being familiarized with what we might encounter at Philmont. Examples of this would be weather, terrain, and the weight that we would be carrying for Philmont for about five to fifteen miles per day. I was also more than ready to carry weight for the trek because I was also weightlifting for football and training for mountain biking. After months of training, we were finally ready to embark on an adventure of a lifetime.

Arriving at Philmont was an experience in itself. To get to LAX on time, my parents and I woke up at around 4:00 a.m. to meet our trek. After saying our goodbyes to our parents, we checked our bags and made our flight to New Mexico. On the flight over, I saw Batman Begins and it was actually still amazing despite it being on an airplane. Before our second flight into Albuquerque, we had a few hours of a layover. After the layover, we had a second flight into Albuquerque which then was followed with a shuttle ride into the place we would be until dinner. The area that we were staying in only had three buildings- one for the adults, one for the scouts, and a restaurant that we ate at for dinner and the last meal we would have before meal bags on the trek. In our building, there were not enough beds per scout, so I volunteered myself to sleep on the floor with my sleeping pad. I thought of sleeping on the pad as a way to become acquainted with what was to come during Philmont. Following our last normal meal in civilization, we finally made it to Philmont Scout Ranch by shuttle. We would embark the next day after making sure that all of our equipment and meal bags were packed for the next twelve days.

Before we embarked on our adventure, we needed to make sure that the combined weight of our bags were not too heavy for the first day. All of the scouts had their bags weighed with their equipment: ten essentials, meal bags, tent, chair, etc.. When we were packing our bags and packing meal bags, I misunderstood what our patrol leader said to us regarding meal bags. He told us to all take about three to five bags, yet I took a few too many; I believe that was about six to ten bags. With all of the newly added weight, my bag weighed over the recommended amount. At the time, I did not speak up and tell one of our adult leaders that I had too many meal bags. Because I did not tell him about the amount of meal bags, I left my chair and my tent back at the ranch because that would allow my bag to have the recommended weight. Not having the tent was something I quickly adjusted to for I just bunked with another scout, yet not having a chair proved a bit more difficult. After sorting out my weight “problem” and everyone’s bags, we were ready to leave the next morning. I have learned from this experience to always ask questions when I am not understanding how to do something.

The next twelve days were both physically demanding and breathtaking. The trek was physically demanding for the amount of weight being carried for hours on end and breathtaking for the astounding views surrounding us every day of the adventure. For the first two days of the trek, we had an interpreter that led us and was our guide of Philmont. After those two days, it was then only our scouting trek for the rest of the adventure,  our interpreter had to start to make his hike back to civilization. For most parts of our trek, we were also joined by our sister crew who were from Alaska. We had some form of a rivalry which really was just motivating each other to get to our destinations on that day until we would both make it back to the scout ranch. We would take turns in starting the day, meaning that sometimes we would wake up before them and make it to our next stop without running into them at all or vice versa. Having them along for the adventure made Philmont much more enjoyable for both groups for how it allowed us to push each other past our limits and make new friends.

Philmont was much more than just hiking for twelve days. There were numerous other activities that our trek participated in throughout the adventure. We stacked milk crates while in the air through harnesses, almost went on a horseback ride, played card games, and much more. Stacking milk crates was possible through harnesses. We would be hoisted in the air and would get pulled up higher after we would stack milk crates on top of each other. We did not go on a horseback ride due to sudden rain that happened right before we were about to leave. Since the rain was also pouring, other scouts that were also about to have a horseback ride waited out the storm in a nearby shack that had enough room for all of us. To pass the time in the shack, we played cards and talked about our shared experiences in Philmont. My trek played many card games during our camping time after long hikes. One of the games that we played the most was BS, a card game that revolves around players getting rid of their cards first and of deception. I learned the game from Philmont and I have not forgotten it since.

The most memorable moment from Philmont for me was hiking the Tooth of Time, the place where all scouts that go to Philmont hike to before making their final hike back to base camp. The experience was the most memorable because the entire trek was building up to it and we then were able to see the sun rise from the top of a mountain. In order to see the sun rise, our trek woke up at around 4:00 a.m., hiked and bouldered up the Tooth for about thirty minutes, and waited for the sun to rise. The view from the top of the Tooth was not only breathtaking, but it was also the reward for the trek itself. After hiking through rain, carrying forty to fifty pounds for twelve days, and enduring many more hardships, we were graced with a view of the entirety of Philmont. The trek back was also the easiest for it was mostly downhill with only a few switchbacks. After making it to base camp, getting all of our stuff that we left behind in the storage room, and taking our first shower in almost two weeks, we finally had food that wasn’t from a bag. 

Going back to our homes was only just a few plane and bus rides. The next morning after getting back to base camp, we took a bus back to Albuquerque, New Mexico and waited for about an hour to take our flight back to the airport that would fly us back to Los Angeles, California. After the two to three hour flight with nothing to do except read or take a nap, we landed in the airport that would take us home. After the few hour layover, we boarded our flight that would take us back to LAX. On the flight back, I saw The Dark Knight and looked out the windows. After landing, it was clear to my trek that we had conquered Philmont. Many people at Philmont told us that mostly everyone that embarks on the trek somehow return to Philmont, either as a worker at the ranch or to embark on another trip. That has not happened to me just yet; however, Philmont is an experience that I will never forget and will always regard as an adventure of a lifetime.

A common saying is “Eyes are a path to the soul”, however I think the contents of one's book shelf are a shortcut. If you came into my room you would see hundreds of books scattered about, but three would stand out: a 1997 legal textbook with extensive annotations, a cookbook stained from being victim to my messy approach to cooking, and a book taller than I was when I received it, going into great depth about the Civil War. 

When I was twelve, my parents took me to what was then my favorite place in the world. Not Disneyland, but a large warehouse filled with books: and it was Half-Price Books, and was my idea of Heaven. I could find books on every topic imaginable, but one especially caught my eye: a criminal defense textbook. It was a dilapidated old thing on the bottom shelf in a tucked-away corner. Despite the skepticism from my parents, I chose this book. From that moment on, 12 year old me decided that law was, in fact, super interesting. My favorite chapters focused on the philosophy of law. Who decides what is just and what makes it so? Questions like these go all the way back to ancient Greece as Aristotle, Plato and a slew of philosophers sought understanding. As a major history geek, I realized the essence of law is based in history, starting with the first law created, The Code of Ur-Nammu, from ancient Mesopotamia. This revelation excited me so much, I decided to spend my summer devouring every law text I could find, with the goal of passing the mock bar exam. I found an exam section online and I passed it! This book played a pivotal role in helping me see how I could apply my love of history to a potential career. 

My bookshelf is a mini time-machine. Glance over my bookshelf and you will see more than half relate to history, ranging from the prehistoric era to ancient history, then medieval history, and then the era most represented: American History. However, the book that will catch your eye is four feet tall, barely surviving the rough treatment to which fifth grade me subjected it to. It has some pages torn, some marked with dog-ears, and is beyond battered from being excitedly thrown upon the floor as I plopped down to read it for the umpteenth time. It was gifted to me by my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Wells, after she saw my deep love of history. It details the engagements of the Civil War in great depth, including maps, statistics and biographies.  I spent hours lying on the floor, as it was the only place the book could fit, devouring information about the war. Whether reading about obscure generals who changed history with only one battle, or how chance would change the tide of the war, I loved and absorbed every detail.

Finally, you will notice Bread Illustrated. It caught my attention while perusing Barnes & Noble and I excitedly called my parents asking permission to purchase it. After some convincing, they relented and thus began my next passion. I have always loved food, especially the eating part, however this book unlocked a deep fervor. I began to understand why recipes work, what flavors complement each other, and I started to research creating my own recipes. I started with different bread types, and then ventured into the world of pizza dough. I wanted to use my knowledge of dough chemistry to create my own pizza.  I read hundreds of articles on everything dough related: yeast types, hydration, elasticity, proofing methods.  I bought restaurant dough to compare to mine. I crafted the perfect dough, which won taste tests with family and friends. 

Books not only can be an insight into one's life, they can be what shapes a life. These are just a few that have shaped mine.

Curious George never quarreling with the Man in the Yellow Hat serves as a constant reminder of what makes us human, separating us from chimpanzees: our constant bickering. Arguments are considered unyielding practices, as both sides of a dispute often fail to concede their preconceived point. However, regardless of who we engage with, human beings find their own point of view through discourse. Discourse allows us as human beings to get in touch with who we are even if that means berating another that they are incorrect. No matter how chaotic our arguments may get, debate is an art form in which we use words as paint; rhetoric, our instrument. 

The most important phrase spoken in the English language is: “for argument’s sake”. In using this phrase, human beings expose themselves to the possibilities of all situations. Internal arguments successfully serve as our source of foresight as we attempt to uncover the right way of going about things. These conversations, we have with ourselves unknowingly and others willingly, charter a relationship with our mind and our communication with others. Our arguments constantly prepare us for what could happen while giving us the clarity of all sides of the matter. Even if we do not always agree with each other, we as human beings should embrace the role of arguments to allow ourselves to grow by constantly learning not only the views of others but also the views of ourselves.