Article by Phoenix writer Kevin Kirley ’25: The week between Christmas and New Year’s is full of the post Christmas blues and leftover-induced stomach aches. It is usually here where the mob of people in the world wander aimlessly around their homes, probably asking themselves what day it is for the fourth day in a row. But as the calendar turns into a new year, a mammoth of a question clouds everyone’s minds: “What’s my New Year’s resolution?” And to that I ask: Why do we do this to ourselves year after year? I’ve always found the “New Year, New Me” slogan shallow and unhelpful, bordering on harmful. A ridiculously toxic, pressuring, and anxiety-inducing message portraying the “New Year” as the complete shift in your life that you’ve been waiting for. Now that the calendar year has increased by one digit and a big, shiny ball dropped in Times Square,

Article by Phoenix writer Mary O’Brien ’27: I love the season of Christmas. It is not only a holiday, but a feeling that every Christian is familiar with. It brings warmth into our lives and reminds us of the comforts of home and family. It starts with childhood, and the anticipation of a break from school and the coming of Santa Claus. Every kid waits patiently for December 25th to arrive by making wish lists and working hard to stay on the “nice list.” Then, the magic of Christmas morning comes and the nostalgic site of a glistening Christmas tree with unopened presents underneath. As one matures, receiving gifts and expecting Santa matter less and less. The real meaning of Christmas is prioritized through spending time with family, giving back to those less fortunate, and above all, the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. Christmas is a great holiday and deserves the

  Article by Phoenix writer Griffin Strauss ’25: The smell of butter flavoring and freshly popped kernels overwhelms my nostrils as I step in line for concessions. There is no line, and I walk right to the counter. I walk down the carpeted hallway dressed with lighted movie posters, popcorn and soda in hand, passing auditorium after auditorium in search of theater number six; the corridor is empty, crumpled napkins drifting between walls like tumbleweeds in a deserted western landscape. Finally, I step into the dark theater, and the silver screen displays previews for blockbuster hits and indie gems. I am the only one in the empty theater, and the sound of the kernels between my teeth echoes through the vacant room. This is the reality of modern-day cinema. I will never forget that mid-December night when I was nine years old. I stepped into a packed theater with my