Sean Musial, Editor

Is rock n’ roll dead? This is a valid question to be asked in the current climate of the music industry and where it’s heading. Hip-hop and country seem to be trending the most compared to the other genres and subgenres that are in the game. However, rock has seemed to be on a steady decline over the past two decades, and it can be argued that it has been flushed out completely. 

There are no new Beatles or Rolling Stones to say that classic rock is alive. There are no new Black Sabbath or Metallica climbing the ranks to say that metal still has a pulse. There are no new Pink Floyd or Jimi Hendrix Experience to say that the psychedelic genre is still afloat in the cosmos. There are no new Ramones or The Clash wanting teens to rebel to the sound of punk. There are no new Nirvana or Pearl Jam to get people to head bang to grunge. They feel like moments in time, lost to a changing age. 

People learn a lot of this music through their parents, movies or streaming. A lot of these rock icons are either in their 70s, 80s or have passed. During July of 2025, the world lost Ozzy Osbourne who died from cardiac arrest just 17 days after he stepped off the stage of his last concert. The Rolling Stones had their last tour back in 2024 with the Hackney Diamonds Tour, which I had the pleasure of seeing when they came to Philadelphia, and has since concealed their planned 2026 tour. These show the slow decline of what rock was and how much the genre of music really influenced an entire generation at one point. 

Those who are attempting to keep some glimmer of hope alive for rock is something to be admirable towards. Yes, it might not be the popularized form of music today, but there are some bands still touring or producing new music. Foo Fighters, Imagine Dragons and Arctic Monkeys are some examples of modern day rock bands that are still up and running. This is not necessarily enough though because the Grammys were dominated strictly by rap and hip-hop winners. Or, it just wasn’t publicized enough. 

The category of “Rock, Metal & Alternative Music” at the Grammys showed many different accomplishments from a wide range of artists. With artists and bands such as YUNGBLUD, Turnstile, Nine Inch Nails and The Cure winning different awards for the genre, the world is given the many unique styles and original forms of what rock has come to today. Two are fairly new while the other two have been around for decades. Each, no matter what the rest of the world might think, are trying to keep the rock phenomenon gracing the ears of the audience that craves it. 

If something’s not considered mainstream relevance, oftentimes people chop it up to be unimportant or insignificant. The birth of rock is oftentimes considered to be at some point during the mid-1950’s. And, it sure wasn’t mainstream at first. The parents of the kids who were listening to this music often looked down upon it because of the so-called nature of it and it could affect the youth. Two to three years later, it defined decades. It was mainstream when it first started, and feels like it entered back into that loop of being pushed back in the background of “mainstream music.”

Is rock n’roll dead? Maybe it’s in hibernation, waiting for a new wave of rock bands and icons to really amp up the voltage to increase where it stands in the music industry today. Maybe it has died off, trying to gravitate towards what once was decades prior. Since we learn these songs through different forms of media and the older generations, personally, I think it has died off and we’re just watching the former kings fill our history books.

Kelsey McGovern, Staff Writer

The prison system is not only failing victims, but offenders as well. Victims need more of a say in how they believe their needs will be best met so they can begin their healing process. Instead of demanding punishment, the system should be demanding dialogue and answers for the victim. There needs to be less emphasis on what punishment the criminal deserves, and more of a focus on why the criminal committed the act in the first place in order to prevent the crime from repeating itself. Pain lingers, but should not be at a standstill. There needs to be a change in the United States’ prison system, and here is why.

Some victims want validation of what happened to them. They want to know that what happened to them was bad and should not have occurred. They deserve to know it was not their fault. They deserve answers. 

Not every victim wants their perpetrator to suffer the way they did, but some want their perpetrator to understand the way they felt. Victims want their perpetrator to know that what happened to them was not fair. That when they wake up in the morning and are even asleep at night, the traumatic event replays in their mind. Their pain has taken over their life and caused daily activities to change for the worse. Restorative justice provides victims with a healing process that does not only offer punishment for the offender, but accountability that provides the victim with justice.

Some victims may want revenge. However, in no way is that beneficial in the long run for their healing journey. The victim may go after their perpetrator and receive the form of justice they demanded, but it only affirms the cycle more. Each person who has caused harm to another person has been hurt by someone else. In taking any form of revenge, the rage may dilate, or it could be enhanced. It is normal to feel enraged and hurt, but turning that pain into forgiveness will be the best route to healing. Hurt people hurt people, and this cycle must be stopped if anyone wants to see reform in the general world – not only the US prison system. 

The prison system dehumanizes criminals – they do not treat them with dignity. While they could have committed a heinous act that deserves punishment, they also deserve to be treated justly. Every human has power within themselves, and it is what you do with that power that determines the trajectory of your life. When criminals unjustly use their power, it may begin a pattern. When they enter the prison system, they cannot remove themselves from a dangerous or toxic environment. Instead, they are submerged in one. These humans may begin to think they are only capable of doing bad with their power. In using different approaches, perpetrators can recognize that although what they did was bad, it does not have to define them for the trajectory of their lives. Every human has the ability to change, which takes time. Not every individual’s needs are recognized in the prison system, which will aid them to become better. When perpetrators understand that the same power they used horribly can be used in a beneficial manner, they gain hope. Once they turn this power into community service, forgiveness initiatives or discussions, they are not put back in the same cycle full of pain. 

Perpetrators often feel isolated from society, causing them to commit crimes. They have been hurt in the past, and instead of receiving the treatment they need, they instead hurt others. Mental health is a serious issue and needs to be taken more seriously. In so many cases, criminals have never received the help they need because mental health is not examined or held as important as it needs to be. When those who are already struggling with mental health issues are shunned and abandoned by society, their mental health worsens, leading them to act out and perform bad actions. The same goes for substance abuse. 

In no way is restorative justice excusing any acts committed due to internal issues. However, it is raising awareness that in order for your loved ones to not be murdered, sexually assaulted, or robbed, people need to be aware of the signs of mental health and substance abuse. During family events, hangouts with friends, community gatherings, or the passing by of strangers, every person deserves to be recognized as a human who has the same abilities we do. When kindness is more present than violence, the world will begin to heal. Unity will forever diminish violence. 

I believe that as humans, we need to have more compassion and forgiveness in this world. In order for peace to prevail, steps need to be taken in many aspects of active systems in the United States. Restorative justice can provide victims and perpetrators with the healing they need. In the words of Jesus Christ, “Do to others what you would have them do to you” (Matthew 7:12).

Kenny Lynch, Staff Writer 

When my mom watched me reach into the future as we lounged in the present, she pulled my hand back and gently reminded me, “By reaching for everything at once, you’ll forget what you already have. Slow down, Zakarie!” I was too impatient to be idle, yet the minute hands were catching up with me by the second. I was a precocious child with friends who aged their saplings with time, but I, on the other hand, was still waiting to sprout. My story is not different from your average teenager, but rather a boy that was too impatient to wait and climbed to the top of the tree.

It all started with my 10th birthday– the day I waited for my age to reach double-digits. It was a simple, sea-stirred day with a whiff of chlorine and freshly cut grass. I splashed around the sprinklers and joyously floundered in the grasslands. I remembered vividly that my father approached the porch in his truck that glimmered under the melting doubloon. As his door unfurled, I ran up to his open arms as he spun me around like a 1990s record player. My mother, who wore a floral top, smiled and chimed, “Dinner is ready! Round the yard and wash your hands when you come inside.”

A crew of children can be wild with energy, but reliable when hungry. When our scrubbed hands scurried around the set dining table, we started with grace as our hands fell into one another’s like bumblebees on flowers. We harmonized the final note, “Amen” and soon, we lifted our silverware and dug into our meals like pirates searching for treasure. In a way, dessert was a treasure. When dinner evaporated, my dad pulled out the lighter and my mother secretly lifted the cake that was sneakily tucked away from children with a curious gaze and a tenacious grip. As my family circled and sang, I blew the soaring candles out and wished, “I can’t wait to be a teenager. Life will be so much more fun!” Little did I know, I would spend years chasing milestones, blowing out candles only to wish I could relive this moment one last time.

On Wednesday, June 20, 2018, I turned the unlucky 13. This became the summer that forged my raw crystals into scintillating diamonds. It started off with my first party invitation by the varsity swim team. My invitation departed from the passenger seat in front of my driveway in the form of a paper airplane. As I marked the calendar and counted the clocks, I didn’t grasp all the days that ticked away. Tin cans and glass bottles clinked as my mind swirled like whirlpools. So, I tugged a few friends aside and asked them, “Can we catch some fresh air?” 

As they agreed, we walked out of the basement-turned-tavern. We passed women with boyfriends and men with long hair who strummed guitars. When we made it outside, we made our way down the driveway. The air felt cooler as our sweat dripped off like icicles. We sat down on the opaque pavement with legs straight as our upper body angled down. With the faint music and chattering, the pine trees twirled in the star-stirred night.

By happenstance, at 11:11 p.m., we saw a living bolt of lightning dash across the sky. Our blurred eyes didn’t realize that the flash was, in fact, a shooting star. Regardless of what we saw, we still made a wish. As everything went dark, I saw the subtitles in my subconscious wishing for the next checkpoint in ages. I wanted to drive. Like my friends, I wanted to traverse the terrain without permission or being patient; so I wished to be 16.

As another year, month and day passed, the world granted what I wished for, but not what I needed. On Sunday, June 20, 2021, as the coffee pot awoke at 6:00 a.m., the grumpy decaffeinated man who was my father wasn’t too excited for the road ahead of him. At 8:00 a.m. sharp, I was behind the wheel with my father strapped in as he sunk into the passenger seat. After approximately 15 minutes, my father grabbed the steering wheel like his life depended on it. He turned the car around and shut the operation down.

My father swapped places with me like the sun does with the moon. I was not a bad driver, but rather, a work in progress. My father told me, “Be patient and always keep your eyes on the road. It is so unnecessary for you to speed. No one is going anywhere.” I always wondered if his advice belonged less to the road and more to my life. After countless failed turns, trials and frustrated sighs, I finally obtained a permit, a driver’s license and a parking pass in my high school parking lot. It became an unreal moment as I became the driver who drove the people that once drove me. Oddly, this was not enough for me; this milestone was not fulfilling for me. Perhaps it was the soil where my delicate roots were planted. I prayed to God, “Please Father, gently unroot me and blow each pappus to a pasture far, far away from here.”

A request I asked, a result I received. I went to college when I was 18 years old, an ordinary experience of the latter, but I came to realize that all of my companions bonded due to their legal ages. I felt involved in our conversations we had, but never at the pubs, clubs or bars. Everything I once prayed for did not deliver in the way I expected. So, when we visited the Shofuso Japanese Cultural Center, I threw a penny in the well and cast a wish like a spell. On Friday, June 20, 2025, I turned 20. 

I have 20 years of life. Yet I feel as if not one day had a chance to be alive. I am no longer friends with the people that I once thought would be at my wedding. I no longer drink like a flower wilting for water. Instead, I ponder over organic emotions. In the midst of it all, I forgot a lesson I was taught until it became relevant in my own life. Somewhere, my mom’s voice echoed dimly in my head, “Slow down, Zakarie,” but I was already too far gone. My mom was right about the advice she passed down to me. Throughout my life, I continuously reached for the future before I acknowledged the present. My greatest regret was not the time I lost, but the time I never let myself live.

Nyr’e Jones, Staff Writer             

With the wide variety of different perfumes on the market, it’s almost impossible to know which to choose from. When just starting out or wanting to grow your perfume collection, the biggest question is, “Where do I start?” 

In this article I’ll take you down the list of five perfumes that’ll strengthen your perfume collection and will make the smell of you memorable.  

Starting at number one, “Good Girl Blush” by Carolina Herrera. “Good Girl” is a perfume collection by Herrera that ranges in many different scent types from soft to strong. The collection is well-known and extremely talked about on perfume TikTok.  

Good Girl Blush supersedes the rest of the collection. The perfume comes in a beautiful light pink heel inspired bottle and carries a long-lasting scent of bergamot and butter almond. Highlighting a very feminine and subtle scent, Good Girl Blush allows the fragrance to be noticeable and desirable. 

At number two, “Yara” by Lattafa, a perfume company that produces many perfumes that highlight different personalities for different women. The most recognized “Yara” is the light pink bottle that went viral on TikTok. 

The “Yara” carries the smell of amber vanilla and a floral scent. Inspired by the femininity of the Middle East combined with gourmand sweetness, “Yara” portrays a creamy and comforting vibe. This allows the perfume to be soft and light, but also maintaining a long-lasting smell throughout the day.  

Ranked at number three, “Daisy” by Marc Jacobs. Just like Herrera’s collection of “Good Girl,” Jacobs has a range of “Daisy” to choose from in different scents for different occasions. The original one is a classic in Marc Jacobs’ collection and a must when adding to your collection. A radiant floral scented fragrance balances with a jasmine scent to give that warm seasonal feeling. A perfume perfect for late spring and summer, very garden-like, and who wouldn’t want to smell like a flower? 

While on the topic of smelling like a flower, at number four we have “Bond No. 9 New York Flowers.” Bond No. 9, just like many other perfume brands, comes in many different kinds, but “New York Flowers” is less popular, but rightfully expensive.  

The perfume is another floral fragrance that combines a mix of jasmine, amber, rose and clementine. The mix flows together perfectly and executes the perfect floral scent.  

Ending the list off at number five we have, “Blossom” by Jimmy Choo. Jimmy Choo, known mostly for shoes that are to die for, has plenty of perfumes that are beautifully scented. Although, “Blossom” is one of their most notable.  

“Blossom” is a sweet, savory scented perfume primarily dedicated for young teenage girls and even young party girls. Mixed with fresh berries with a hint of floral representing a sweet pea theme, the perfume is cheerful, vibrant and incredibly youthful. Highly recommended for young girls but can be for all.  

These five perfumes are sure to leave a good impression on everyone and give both girls and women confidence that can last a lifetime. Smelling good and looking good are the keys to a happy day, so use these listed fragrances as a guide to having more happy days. 

Kenneth Lynch, Staff Writer

Mother dearest always haunted me with a harp of warning notes. My mother, an intelligent, idealized woman, prepared me with two injunctions:

1. “Watch your words. A mouth that acts like a faucet floats their friends to the surface and drowns their feelings to the bottom.”
2. “Watch who you surround yourself with, Zakarie. A community is an arena where the resources are scarce. When a hothouse flower is planted outside, it will have to compete with eucalyptus roots.”

My mom carved these proverbs into my palms. Regardless, I moved on. I was too lonesome to receive an invitation that would derail me from my immortal innocence. Or so I thought…

As the brass globe spun the years of my life forward, I met a student cloaked in mischief and mayhem. This student, Luci, walked into class like a merchant for whom it seemed as if the floor beneath her was cobblestone. The way Luci’s heels clicked on the floor seemed like the synths in a hymn I would intone during service. She opened her robe like the door to a vending machine; so many options, too many bad choices. In our seventh period German class, she offered me a trial: “$15 for the emerald strawberry flavored pod.” Temptation was my infamy, and my mother’s words were a failed inquiry.

As my addiction stretched to cities and factories, the exhaled pollution clouded my town in my snow globe. What started off as one fireplace chimney became a widespread epidemic of addictive tendencies. For my life became an ambush of addiction, I offered my body to the altar and said “I do.” I gambled my guarded thoughts to fuel an inferno in my lungs and a second sliver to visualize mind prisons of kaleidoscopes. The worst part about addiction is that you’re so self-aware, but there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s when I realized I broke my mother’s second rule. So I planned to get better. But what’s an architect without a blueprint?

As I sat on my window sill, the spirits in the sky rose from the smoke off my candle wick placed horizontally between my lips. When I exacerbated one alternative, I turned to another remedy. That is when I met Levi, the dry. His house was perched above a valley like the shadow of his stovepipe hat that rested on his skull. I asked Levi, “Do you have anything else in your hat that signals the shakes down my spine?” He handed me a demijohn of elixir. I gulped, gargled, garbled. As soon as the fluids fueled my fire, I heard the strings of synths, the cries from the choir and the rattling from the release. I joined the dead for the macabre dance. Levi may have been a bad influence, but sometimes as a teenager, I wanted to stop wondering. That was my second mistake, always wandering in my realm of introspection. 

I confess, my heart flickered like flames on a candle. Did he hand me a hypnosis trick to be his harlot? The longer I visited Levi’s world, the more I wanted to be in it. So, I gulped, gargled, gagged. The walk as I ascended toward the katabasis stretched my flesh as I got closer to Levi. Once I breached his barriers, I sat with him. The more I binged my potation, the more shadows I unveiled to him. In a way, he shaped and resonated with my terminal uniqueness. As soon as I felt naked with my bouquet of bare bottles, he proffered a glass vessel of peyote. Like Eve, I plucked the fruit off and chiseled a small nibble with my raking teeth, and realized my trust was rustic and his presence was patient. He invited me to his garden to snake me in his riddle. As I honored my vow, I devoured the fruit to dance with the devil. That’s when I realized I broke my mother’s first rule. 

As my heart twisted and turned, I let the faucet gush like a rapid from my bloodstream. As Levi levitated to the surface, my bundle of burdened baggage sank and I dissolved into the void. When I freed myself from the shackles, my soul remained shattered, with no salubrious strength. Before I let the seconds slit me silly, I was being haunted by my autoscopy. 

This darkening delineation waded towards me and hovered over my wretched posture. The figure pursed their jaw and soughed, “You who seek the salvage of your sanity must step back from the world before your sobriety can return. Be wary of the beast that tempts a weak mortal.” As I listened to my younger self speak to me, my survival instinct shimmered and I slipped through death’s grip.

Unlike the mortal Icarus, I bolted from limbo and my hope was sliced into the rays of the sun that I swam closer toward. As I blazed through Adam’s Ale, a hand with engraved letters on its palm turned my snow globe upside down. I tugged the daylight like a rope that slithered around my body as a harness. Once I reached the welkin, I was welcomed by colorless figures who beamed me to a gurney. As my mom quavered “Zakarie,” the harp’s notehead strummed a pulse to my shriveled heart. All may end in a lesson and a scar, but my mother’s third rule was:

3. “Never ghost your family from the other side of the gravestone.”

Nathalia Peralta D., Staff Writer 

Five million demonstrators attended the first “No Kings” protests on June 14, 2025, and almost seven million showed up to the second round of rallies on Oct. 18, 2025. Crowds gathered in cities across the United States, as well as overseas, to protest President Donald Trump’s administration and call for the defense of First Amendment rights. Many protesters from Los Angeles to New York as well as Chicago, Washington D.C. and Austin, Texas, flooded the streets chanting, marching and waving homemade signs that proclaimed “We want all of the government to work” and “Make America Good Again.” 

At the protests, speeches and music blared, some even donned Halloween costumes in the cross-country rallies that demanded protection of all Constitutional Rights, many claiming they are under attack by the Trump administration. Politicians in support encouraged the rallies and spoke up, telling people to keep fighting for democracy.  Senators Bernie Sanders of Vermont and Chris Murphy of Connecticut were a few notable politicians speaking out. Even Bill Nye, the beloved children’s show host, commented, “They do not promote the progress of science. They suppress it, to the detriment of our health, well-being, and international competitiveness,” he said. “It is a formula for failure.” 

Many of the fired U.S. Agency for International Development workers also joined the No Kings Protest at the capital, including Amanda Nature. Nature, 41, of Washington told NBC News, “The common adage is that 50% of the country voted for this. But 50% of the country didn’t vote for a government shutdown and the dismantlement of the government and services that people rely on.”

High-profile clashes between residents and federal immigration authorities in Chicago have unfolded in recent weeks. Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker shared a defiant speech. He called out Trump and Homeland Security adviser Stephen Miller for “coming for the immigrants, and for Black and brown people, and for LGBTQ people and for their political opponents.” 

“History will judge us by where we choose to stand right now, today. Future generations will ask: ‘What did we do when fellow human beings faced persecution? When our rights were being abridged? When our Constitution was under attack?” Pritzker asked. “They’ll want to know whether we stood up or we stayed silent.” 

Many people are speaking up. There are plenty of people willing to stand up, defy and go against their government because they believe in freedom. Many people believe that if we all stay silent, we are giving in to a system of power that will only benefit the wealthy, leaving us all to fend for ourselves. That is not what America is, and we shouldn’t let it get to that point. 

This is just the beginning and a preview of what is to come in the following months. People are fed up, scared and unsure of what this government has for them, but even so, they stand front and center to protect their rights and freedoms before it’s too late. Senator Elizabeth Warren addressed thousands at the Boston Common, stating, “Standing up to a wannabe dictator? That is patriotism. Peacefully protesting to protect our democracy? That is patriotism!” While many protests have been peaceful and without incident, some leaders, including those in Texas, have said they would mobilize the National Guard to monitor for potential unrest. 

Sean Musial, Editor 

A good portion of people in the world consider writing a dying artform and a difficult field to get into when compared to other occupations. Whether it’s because of AI or overly saturated forms of content, writing is hard for any newcomer to gain mass recognition. Journalists, authors and screenwriters can spend years pouring their hearts and souls into something they’re passionate about to their very core with no results to back it up. The art of writing is something I will strive to improve day by day, until one day the rest of the world can eventually understand the way I shape the artform into my own worlds and stories. 

It’s a lonely process that involves picking apart ideas in your head to properly convey to the reader what you’re trying to say. Journalists take factual evidence they gather through interviews, research and fact-checking to tell the truth. Authors can take a couple of weeks or even years writing their book depending on the length, genre, scheduling and personal conflicts. Screenwriting, similar to authors, is a delicate process that can also take days to even years in this form to complete. 

Each of the three is a daunting task. It’s an accumulation of patience, persistence, poignancy and proofreading until you are comfortable with the final product. That’s part of the problem that AI has been creating. With this newly formed technology that is still advancing, it can practically minimize the hard work of an individual that takes weeks to complete and instead do it in seconds depending on the prompt you give it. The algorithm spits out a robotic word-for-word document on what you wanted with no emotional depth or human touch to it— yet people eat it up and pass it off as their own work. This is killing not only careers, but it’s jeopardizing creativity. Thoughts and words are coming from a robot, not people. 

Writing is something that has been engraved in me since I was a kid. The art that comes with telling a story, whether it’s movies or books, is something I am extremely passionate about. It started with me spending hours in my room studying what it means to convey a message to a reader. I still find random notebooks lying around my room and house filled with story concepts and cartoonish characters that I would draw. 

As I got older and started to understand where this was coming from, it became a more structured process, one that was less sporadic. The story concepts started to flow easier with more efficient planning. I planned throughout most of high school the overall ideas I wanted to convey out into the world. My friends would look over my shoulder curiously trying to figure out what I was doing. I explained it to them the best I could: I want to write books and movies for a living. When senior year came around, I got most primary concepts out of the way. I began to write even more.

I started my first book and my first pilot episode for a different story (which I later decided to turn into a book rather than a TV show). The things I write about have a wide range. The genres I tackle are as follows: coming-of-age, crime, sci-fi, fantasy, satire, dark comedy, war, historical fiction, etc. A goal of mine is to try and tackle all types by putting my own Northeast Philly/Sean Musial twang into it. 

As I’m getting older and still have this dream, continuing to try to get there, it’s difficult. I ask myself all the time, “Do I self-publish or keep on trying to get in touch with major publishing companies?” For now, I’m still aiming to get my work published by a professional publisher. I’ve been focusing on school lately but for the next couple of months, I’m going to get back in the race to get in touch with these companies. I continue to write for now, as I am starting three new books since I finished the manuscript of my first book. 

I’m an ambitious and optimistic guy. I know if it doesn’t work for me in the next couple of years, or even a decade, I’ll continue to pursue it. “Obsession beats talents” is something I heard a long time ago. You might be pretty good at something, but you’re not the best at it; yet, if I am as “obsessed” with writing as I was when I was a kid, that obsession could be a defining factor that truly gets me there some day. 

If you think writing is for you, in any type of field, go for it. Don’t listen to what others might have to say about it. Yes, there are definitely some road blocks in the way, but that should not stop the pursuit. Take me for example: I write every single day and will continue to do so. Write what you want to write about. Who knows, maybe one day the world will have the pleasure of seeing your work out there.