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By Caroline Jones They say that if you tell children they cannot do something they will just want to do it more. For example, if you give a small mouse a cookie, he will probably ask you for a glass of milk. Once you have something, you just want it more, or better, or with increased frequency. That being said, a straight-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie sounds good right now.  When I started college, my access to a working kitchen was severely limited. There was the lounge, which included an oven and stove, and I had a mini-fridge in my room. But, the freshman lounge in my hall smelled gross to me, and there was usually a group of boys playing Catan—not the most conducive environment for my purposes.  I have never been much of a baker or cook. But when I first visited home, I was in a frenzy of recipes and ingredients. What I like to call my “introspective music” playing (usually a mixture of The 1975 songs like “Playing On My Mind” and “The Birthday Party” or The Bleachers’ latest album, or especially James Taylor’s “Carolina in My Mind”), I dissolve into baking times and obsession over the best recipes.  During spring break, after a few months of on-and-off attempts, I found my magnum-opus chocolate chip cookie recipe. It came upon me during a habitual Instagram scroll. The recipe is from Dee & Sweets on Instagram: “Chewy Peanut Butter Chocolate Chunk Cookies”—truly the best thing since sliced bread. They are soft and chewy, and hold their shape well when baking, so you get that really thick fluffy cookie. I highly recommend them.  As a freshman in college, most things are out of my control. I just moved seven and a half hours away from my small town life, that I was perfectly happy with, to attend college in Washington, D. C.—it comes with its ups and downs. Going home and diving into “cookie world” is now a favorite pastime for me.  I encourage any college student—or any person existentially struggling with losing control—to turn to baking. There is something so therapeutic, cathartic even, about measuring the perfect amount of flour, baking soda, salt, butter, sugar, egg, vanilla extract, and chocolate to ensure you end up with the perfect cookie. And then going back and methodically tweaking the recipe to make it even better. (Hint: you probably need more chocolate).  Make no mistake, on May 2nd, when I pull up to my house, I will float into the kitchen, wash my hands, pull out all my ingredients, and start baking. Then maybe, I’ll hug my family and unpack my stuff.

By Eowyn Ream As an avid fantasy reader, I regularly peruse Goodreads to find the next great story to dive into. I’m generally looking for a rating of about 4 out of 5 stars, and even that can be tricky to find. When The Will of the Many by James Islington popped up in my recommended with a rating of 4.61—perhaps the highest Goodreads score I’ve seen, and higher than Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone —I was intrigued.  It’s difficult to describe this book and feel that I’m doing it justice. It involves a magic school, so an obvious comparison is Harry Potter , but specifically with the darkness of the later books in the series. There are also hints of The Hunger Games  that add tension and stakes, making for an engaging read. The society is Roman-inspired, with distinct socioeconomic classes that determine one’s access to magic. The main character is an orphan named Vis who’s sent to the Academy to investigate and uncover close-held secrets. The magic system is morally and technically complex, functioning like a pyramid where each class cedes half of their “Will” (as in will to live—their energy, strength, life force) to those above them. The moral and philosophical implications of the society’s structure are explored through the eyes of Vis. Who is to take responsibility for a corrupt system? What does it mean to be complicit in a greater societal evil when you’re just an average person? While The Will of the Many  leaves the reader with many important questions to chew on, I don’t want to imply that the story is not entertaining—because it certainly is. I finished the 640-page book in 24 hours, then I reread it a week later in 48 hours. That’s how much I loved this book. It’s well-paced and holds your attention, and the build-up to an incredible ending left me simultaneously satisfied but also in dire need of the second book.  The Will of the Many might be one of my favorite books, ever—and I don’t say that lightly. Most books are forgettable, some are great, and a few are remarkable. The Will of the Many  is remarkable and undoubtedly deserving of its 4.61 rating on Goodreads. If you’re a lover of fantasy, and you haven’t read this book…respectfully, what are you doing? Get on it. Even if you’re not a big fantasy reader, I would encourage you to give this book a shot. A good story is a good story, regardless of genre.  If you’re not one for starting an unfinished series, touché, although you’ll be happy to hear that the second book, The Strength of the Few , is releasing November 11th of this year. All in all, whatever your hesitation is for starting The Will of the Many , I urge you to set it aside. I promise—this book is worth it.

By Arin Burrell “Do you think this light will ever turn green?” I would care about the light changing if I wasn’t desperately holding on to every moment we were stuck in this car. Well, not exactly stuck, the other passengers might feel like we’re stuck but I think this is not the worst thing that could happen to us. Not that being trapped in a small space is nice, but I am enjoying being with everyone. I am sitting in the passenger seat of a cramped sedan trying to understand the conversation going on in the backseat over the blaring sound coming from the speakers. I would ask the driver to turn it down but car rules state that the driver must be comfortable. And I wouldn’t want to make her, or anyone else, feel like I’m a controlling person. I want to make a good impression on these people. Even though I have met them before. But it was brief. This is the first time in way too long that I have been invited anywhere on some type of group adventure. I am not exactly the loner or introverted type, but I am not someone who can get themselves out and into the world without a pep-talk and a very, very important reason to be leaving the comfort of my own home. The light is still red. I can see the driver getting more frustrated. We are sitting at a relatively calm intersection. There is a car next to us that seems less bothered by the stop and the cars moving perpendicular to us don’t seem to mind the privilege of their green light. “Maybe I should just turn right,” the driver groans. “That’s not where the GPS is saying to go,” the person sitting behind me says. I try to think of something witty to say. Maybe a joke about how not everywhere allows for turns on red or maybe how it is nice to sit and enjoy the scenery of the road or really just something. Anything. The moment’s gone. The conversation in the back seat changes. The four people in the car know each other well, I’m the outsider, trying my hardest to match the energy everyone else is giving off. We might have all gone to school together, but it seems like they all had vastly different lives than I did. As I sit in silence, I’m trying to study how they interact with each other. Not in a creepy way, just in a way that allows for this type of outing to happen more often. I barely know these people and as long as I can hold a good conversation with them, I could be able to do this more. I just had to take the chance to jump into the conversation. It doesn’t seem to be about anything that I know of. I thought it was about something everyone had watched, I could have pretended to know the reference, but it might be an inside joke instead. The driver laughs and adds a quip, her frustration gone for the moment. Everyone else is joking, I want to add something. Say something finally so they remember I am here. I was given shotgun only because I had the longest legs, not because I called it, if there was any resentment because of this act of good luck, I have to make up for it in being a good passenger. I found something to say. It’s clever, but just silly enough to stay in the minds of everyone for the rest of the ride and maybe for the rest of their lives. I take a deep breath, preparing to turn slightly to speak to the whole group. “Oh, hey! The light changed!” The driver hits the gas and interrupts my moment. I will just have to wait for another time to shine, I guess.

By Stevie D. Rosenfeld The difference between something being bad and someone disliking something is a distinction many people fail to recognize, myself included. There is a big difference between media being poorly written and just not being your cup of tea. Increasingly common, however, is media being your favorite cup of tea, but you forgot it on the counter and let it get cold.  That was my situation with “Spirit Box Radio.” The series followed the narrator Sam as he navigates the supernatural world his mother left behind. On paper, it seemed like the perfect show for me: diegetic medium, charming host, personifications of arcane concepts, and twisted family ties. These are all things that usually draw me into a piece, rather than push me away.  Yet, “Spirit Box Radio” did not really work for me. I got to the end of season 2 and just could not keep going. I had a couple of reasons, but perhaps it is better to say I had excuses.  For one, it felt like there were very suddenly a lot of characters   to keep track of; each with extremely specific backgrounds, abilities, and relationships integral to the story. Once vital characters seemed a world away, villains were turning into allies overnight, romantic relationships felt heavy handed, and the lax magical rules that I originally loved seemed to become a means of avoiding plot holes. By the time I stopped listening, I had completely lost the thread. I did not know the story’s lore, the stakes of each conflict, or the characters’ goals. But after a few weeks away from the show, I found myself wondering: were these problems with the show or with me?  During my break from “Spirit Box Radio,” I took some time to think about why I did not like it. I sat, pretentiously nitpicking every flaw in the series to justify why I was giving up on it. But as the time since I had listened grew, my list of problems became smaller. The things that bugged me when I first listened seemed trivial after time away. I realized that I had not really given the series a chance. My dislike of the series was not derived from the actual content, but from my stunted, distracted interactions with it.  My main issue with the show was pacing. Everything seemed to happen too quickly, escalating the stakes before you could get a grip on the context. Initially, I criticized the writing as rushed. But after  break, I realized I was the one rushing. This is the binge-watching generation; we are used to consuming all our content in one bite. I have been known to finish television series over a weekend, full length novels in a day, and I had listened to seventy-eight “Spirit Box Radio” episodes in about two weeks. Not only was this ruining my experience of the show, but it was disrespectful to the writer and the other creators who had put profound effort into precisely pacing a complex story. Episodes were released once a week and were designed to be listened to on that schedule. Pacing was not the problem with “Spirit Box Radio,” my inability to pace myself was. My disrespect extended beyond pacing and into elementary school levels; I wasn’t paying attention in class. Podcasts are lauded for providing entertainment while working on assignments, doing chores, or exercising. On the surface, podcasts seem like a multitasker’s best friend. They offer the ability to be informed and entertained without interrupting our daily routine. I was listening to “Spirit Box Radio” while doing home workouts in the middle of the pandemic. While Sam’s narration may have been fueling my attempts at 90-day-abs, it wasn’t getting my full attention. The show did have a lot of characters and incredibly complex lore which could be difficult to keep track of, but my complete lack of focus did not make things easier. I had podcasts for every occasion; specific shows I listened to when I exercised, when I was studying, when I was driving, getting dressed, doing laundry, even assembling my parents' furniture. But the shows that I loved, my true and honest favorites, were the ones I listened to just sitting in my bedroom. The shows I loved the most were the ones I gave undivided attention to. Was I giving them my attention because I loved them, or did I love them because I took the time to really focus on the stories?  Finally, there was the matter of balancing my personal taste with my appreciation of art. I love supernatural stories that build a unique universe. I love immortals constantly re-evaluating their place in a growing world. I love virtuous characters grappling with the streak of evil running inside them. But I do not love romance. I am not one for Ellen Hildebrand books or Noah Centino movies. For me, romance served more when it was integrated into the plot and not the focus of it. Even though the relationship between Sam and love-interest Oliver was relevant to character development, their romance seemed completely separate from the main plot of the show. It could have been a fantasy romance series all on its own. But was it a bad fantasy romance? The romantic plotline an intense emotional rollercoaster prone to sharp left turns and rapid changes. Generally, these are things I dislike in a story, but that does not mean they are poorly written. In fact, for fans of supernatural love stories, these might be benefits rather than drawbacks. Meanwhile, I was letting a well-written aspect of the podcast that simply did not appeal to me distract from a story I could have truly loved.  I do not think I am alone in my experience with Spirit Box Radio. We have more access to media than ever before, but that means standards are getting higher. If things do not immediately sate us, we give them up. This means we never learn the twist that perfects the book, never let the new series hit its stride, and never hear the tragic hero of an audio drama become lord of the universe.  If a piece of media is not working for you, a break might be just what you need. But during that time, try to evaluate if you are giving the series a fair chance. Consider if you are being too harsh toward minor details, if you are truly focused, or if you are taking on too much too soon. When you come back to the piece with an open mind, you will be more ready to evaluate whether it is something you like, just not for you, or if it’s just a piece of garbage. Who knows, maybe it will be your favorite piece of garbage.

While I am not a big fan of political sections of magazines, I do often try to enlighten myself by looking at the technology and business sections. For the sole reason of humoring myself on what humanity seems to be coming up next. In particular, one article stood out to me: Kyle Chayka's Popping the Bubble of Noise-Cancelling Headphones . Which was about a Japanese company that made a product that was essentially the anti-headphones". Of course the article's goal wasn't to persuade everyone to buy it. No, it's the fact that there was presumably enough of a market for this that and how "noise-cancelling headphones are a fundamentally antisocial technology." 1(Chayka), that the author believed that it should be its own article in The New Yorker . My gripes with this particular product is that it is almost a situation in search for a problem? You want to hear more noise? Don't have headphones on. But people will say that they like having some semblance of ear protection when out and about. I think in that regard, people forget that wearing headphones in public is a relatively recent phenomenon in the historical timeline. You would interact with people on your way to work, talk to peers before class starts, and etc. But over the past 10 years, more so exuberated by the COVID pandemic, people have given up the interaction and chosen to keep to themselves in the bubble known as their headphones; and oftentimes do not talk to, much less pay attention to, people around them. It is rather depressing when in environments where it is usually bustling with activity and commotion, it's instead silent. No one wants to speak to each other, and instead wants to live in their own bubble with their own music and little following on social media. Now, I would like to point out that I follow this trend. Do I talk to classmates before the lecture begins? No. Do I probably keep to myself more than I should? Of course, and I am aware that it isn't healthy, hence my trying to change what I'm doing and attempt to be more social. But of course this is now a societal problem. People have been becoming more individualistic for quite some time, and the headphones are a key symbol of that. I feel that this is something that goes deeper than the headphones... which brings me back to the question on these "anti-headphones" as I'll call them. Why would you spend $300 to have more sound in your life when you can just not have anything on your ears and listen uninterrupted? I'm not saying that it's a sham because the product does do what it is advertised to do, but compared to other items worth the money, there must be a limit when people wonder: "Maybe we should stop and wonder why this even exists" rather than just gobbling it up and propelling the machine. So perhaps instead of buying the less techy gear, you get off your headphones and try to interact with others. Maybe it'll start a movement. Or not, at this point I'm just in for the ride regardless.

By Maggie Melnik - Aftersun dir. by Charlotte Wells  - Skate Kitchen dir. by Crystal Moselle  - Little Women dir. by Greta Gerwig  - Lemonade dir. by Beyoncé  - Jennifer’s Body dir. by Karyn Kusama  - Portrait of a Lady on Fire dir. by Céline Sciamma  - Revenge dir. by Coraline Fargeat  - Nomadland dir. by Chloé Zhao  - Promising Young Woman dir. by Emerald Fennell  - Paris is Burning dir. by Jennie Livingston  - Priscilla dir. by Sofia Coppola  - The Edge of Seventeen dir. by Kelly Fremon Craig  - But I’m a Cheerleader dir. by Jamie Babbit  - American Psycho dir. by Mary Harron  - Women Talking dir. by Sarah Polley  - The Miseducation of Cameron Post dir. by Desiree Akhavan - Emma. dir by Autumn de Wilde  - The Outrun dir. by Nora Fingscheidt  - The Fear Street Trilogy dir. By Leigh Janiak  - Queen & Slim dir. By Melina Matsoukas

You know that scene in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King where Sméagol is banished from the Shire community (for murder, but that’s not really important to this particular story) and takes the One Ring with him to the mountains? There’s a montage of his transformation into the dirty, disgusting cursed creature Gollum. He goes into the caves and his face becomes pale and tight, his eyes sink into his head and his cheekbones protrude, he loses all his hair. He’s crawling around on his hands and feet in the dark and just generally losing his mind. It is a pretty gross scene. That’s what winter in New Hampshire is like. Of course, first comes the excitement of newness, that chill in the air that means the holidays are coming. The first snow, which usually doesn’t stick. Ice makes the branches of trees into tinsel. November and December arrive and everyone remembers why they love it here: actual seasons! Winter sports! Layers! But there comes a time, usually after December is all unwrapped and wrapped up, where the reality of the next few months sets in. Seemingly endless winter, even after Punxutawney Phil predicts it will end. And reader, the cold is one thing, but the dark? That’s the killer. I was never actually diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (appropriately known as SAD), but then again no one ever formally told me I had a Vitamin D deficiency either; chances are, if you’re from where I’m from, you’ve got it. Instead, I was diagnosed with normal, regular, year-round major depression. The major part of major depression gets worse in the winter. Waking up for school at 9, 10 am gives me about 6-7 hours of sunlight, most of which is hidden behind clouds or I won’t even see on account of being inside. I won’t miss “falling back”. Like all living things, humans need the sun to live. But we need it to be happy, too. To give us the energy and desire to live. My therapist told me to go outside, to soak up the sun whenever possible. Sunlight cannot cure all my ailments, but it’s certainly helped. What I can’t get in the winter I try to make up for in the summer. Every sunny day I spend an hour or more just laying on my deck, flat, rotating every so often like a rotisserie chicken. I’m happier in the summer, and I suspect sunlight plays a big part in that. I used to work at a pet store, where I maintained a one-sided understanding with the reptiles: heat lamps are heaven and basking is essential. Lizards need to bask. Humans need to bask. Even a small bask can make you happier and healthier. When expounding the various merits of whatever it is they love, a responsible recommender must also explain that there can, in fact, be too much of a good thing. Reader, I must sadly inform you that too much basking can be bad for you. I myself have suffered the wrath of the sun: sunburns, sun poisoning, dehydration, so forth. One time I nearly passed out at the local mini golf course due to heat exhaustion. Our sun is a fickle queen. My mother bestowed upon my brother a token of her Greek ancestry: the ability to tan quickly and evenly to a warm Mediterranean hue. The Irish found on both sides of my family tree converged to find its home in me. Pale, easily seared me. Like a scallop in a Gordon Ramsey show, I am often either raw or burnt, and seldom that perfect golden-brown. I know how painful the sun can be, but I urge you not to let this threat deter you from basking. Sunscreen and shade exist, after all, as does water, which is always a good thing to have on hand during a bask. A good, proper bask when utilized to its full potential should leave you with a lasting sense of relaxation, rejuvenation, and warmth. Not third-degree burns. Please bask responsibly. Reader, what I really want you to know is the undisputable truth that the sun will come out again. In the cold, dark winter months, it is as easy to lose hope as it is to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers or toes. It is easy for the cold and dark to seep inside, into your body and your mind. When your thoughts are so dark, it can be hard to notice the light. I know, I’ve felt it. Sometimes the winter on the inside is year-round. But listen: the light is there. The sun will come out. Somewhere close to you, a ray of sunlight is touching down, and you can go sit in it. Like I’ve said, basking in sunlight is not the miracle cure. It can’t burn away all the dark thoughts and feelings. I’ve got a therapist, a wonderful support system, a healthy dose of Lexapro, and I still get sad. And SAD. But the sun can make you warm, and sometimes it’s enough to be warm again. Less nasty cave creature and more Hobbit. So please, go bask. And if you live in Alaska or something where the sun actually doesn't come out for a good few days, I hear there are light therapy lamps for sale online for anywhere between $20 to $200, so maybe look into that. Happy basking, reader! Please remember: it gets better and it gets brighter.

By Kendall Spink We all know that the release of Greta Gerwig’s live action Barbie movie was revolutionary, inspiring, and defined the summer of 2023. The story of Barbie on the big screen begins in 2001, years before Margot Robbie ever graced the acting scene. There are 44 movies following Barbie and her magical adventures over the past 23 years. These movies are separated into two eras, ones made between 2001 and 2011 with original animation and consistent voice acting by Kelly Sheridan. The other group are movies made between 2011 and the present, with various Barbie voices, and a modern, and continually updated animation style.  Younger generations of Barbie watchers often prefer the newer content. Which makes sense because that is what they have grown up watching on streaming services. Those of us who grew up watching the original Barbie movies lay our loyalty with them. Netflix, the largest streaming service in the world, does not have any original Barbie content available. It’s not only Netflix. No subscription streaming platform has any of the 2001-2011 Barbie movies.  There are two things I can say confidently as a member of Gen Z, one, the original Barbie movies remind me of my childhood in the best way. And two, I do not own a DVD player. Turning to the media you grew up with for comfort is a natural and shared experience for everyone. This is not something my sister and I can do.  Between my friends and family I have access to all the streaming services you could imagine. This should be all I need in this day and age. Yes, you can rent the Barbie movies, but I thought that as a society, we were past that. Kids can no longer grow up watching any original Barbie content because it is not easily accessible. This is already resulting in generations not knowing any of the classic characters or plots that have inspired the newer content.  The emphasis that the original movies put on female friendship is something that I have not seen in any other kids movies. Being able to see women saving the world, without any consideration of them being incapable, is inspiring. These kids are missing out on Barbie as an actress and a storyteller. Movies like Barbie and Repunzel  or Barbie of Swan Lake  begin with Barbie introducing the story and taking us along on a magical adventure. Those based around classic fairy tales have a predictable structure that allows kids to connect to them without having to “dumb down” the concepts. Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper  is a retelling of Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper . While the modern Barbie movies follow Barbie as a person with her friends and family, taking on, while often exciting and magical, adventures that are based in reality. Netflix has a few TV series that follow Barbie with her friends and family, showing the impressive everyday life that Barbie has. Imagine the additional views those would get following the addition of original Barbie movies. Netflix is always adding movies to their platform as a way to entice subscribers to ignore rising prices and ending password sharing. Adding any of the original Barbie movies would only benefit Netflix profit margins.  It’s time that Netflix gives the people what they want, and deserve. Original Barbie movies are the only thing missing from Netflix. We cannot stand by and continue to allow these movies to be missing from children’s lives.

By Thomas Weaverling Yes, it’s true that you can ask any veteran drag race fan which season of the show is objectively the best and the majority will not hesitate to say All Stars 2 . This season gave us Alyssa vs Phi Phi, the Shut Up and Drive lip sync, Tatianna’s “The Same Parts,” Read U Wrote U, etc., there is far too much to love and obsess over from this season. However, I think that the story of the top three, Alaska, Katya, and Detox, is far too overlooked and not appreciated enough as the cinematic perfection that it is. Each of these three grew noticeably from their original season and represent something so unique, each radiating talent beyond belief. The crown could have grown to any of these three and no one would have been satisfied because the other two were just as worthy.  Alaska took the competition by the neck, annihilating challenges while being laser focused on getting that crown and scepter from Fierce Drag Jewels. Her portrayal of Mae West is still recognized as a top Snatch Game performance that I reference everyday. Her comedic timing, incredible wit, and pure drive for competition are unlike anything that had been seen on the show. Even her idea to bring back Little Poundcake was brilliant and was one of the many things that displayed her raw talent as a competitor.  Katya is easily one of the most lovable, charismatic, and creative queens to grace the werkroom. Her Russian prostitute persona is one of the most unique and versatile aspects of a queen that we have seen. She had one of the fastest All Stars turn around times, with only a few months between her original season airing and the filming of AS2, making her performance this season all the more impressive. Her impersonation of Bjõrk, the makeover with her mom, and her commercial were beyond fantastic. Katya’s journey of being anxiety-riddled on season 7 to the dark horse of All Stars 2 exemplifies her growth as a contestant. Detox is one of the most unique and interesting queens with her aesthetic, camp performances, and intriguing personality being nearly unmatched. Out of this top three, she is the certified look queen that tore up the runway with looks like her breathtaking latex look and her forever iconic, silver-bodied “Future of Drag” look. Her iconic “Tell it to My Heart” lip sync and performance as neon Marie Antoninette are simply unforgettable. She considers herself to be the queen of the weirdos, a sentiment that encompasses her drag persona and all that she brings to the table.  The final lip sync to “If I Were Your Woman” by Gladys Knight and The Pips is what really propelled me to write this. Each of these queens fought so hard through the most talent-packed cast we’ve seen in Drag Race herstory, the Hunger Games of Drag as Chad Michaels would put it. These three queens delivered a fantastic final three lip sync, with Katya and Detox beautifully embodying this ballad, while Alaska literally and metaphorically destroys her image to leave one last impression on All Stars 2.

By Tyler Davis A softball question, how long have you been writing for? Clichely, my entire life. Technically, five years. As in, putting pen to paper and making the thoughts in my head sound intelligent and beautiful. I did slam poetry for a while, but the community in my hometown dwindled with the pandemic, as so many things did.  What are the most common tropes/themes/metaphors that show up in your writing?  Usually I’m writing to or about god, questioning him mostly. I find it funny to imagine his answers, to create the type of person he is. It’s like a weird, messed up form of religion. Otherwise I’m trying to understand love, or at least the way that I experience it. Lately I’ve been leaning toward cannibalism as a metaphor for overwhelming love, which it’s interesting that I’ve only just discovered this considering how overwhelming all the emotions I feel are. Why do you view cannibalism as a metaphor for love?  I mean, isn’t it? If you have a better way to explain the all-consuming, mind altering, life ruining, experience that is falling madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with someone, I’d love to hear it. But seriously, I often think of cuteness aggression. Y’know, the desire to squeeze something that you love so much until it stops being cute and you can move on with your life? Something like that, except I bite your finger off.  You often don’t capitalize ‘god’ or pronouns referring to god in your poetry. Is that a stylistic choice or something more personal?  The god's honest truth is that I don’t capitalize anything. That’s the stylistic choice. And I don’t even really have a good reason for it. I write all my pieces before I type them, and I write in all lowercase unless necessary, usually for emphasis. Then, I type almost exactly what’s written, barring any changes in word choice or sentence structure. I guess you could say it’s a style choice, but I honestly just don’t care enough. Plus, it looks nicer that way. Capital letters are aggressive sometimes.  You know how you haven’t written anything in multiple months? What’s up with that? Brain no work?  You try writing through your second semester of junior year, taking six classes, internship, and multiple on-campus jobs, only one of which actually pays you on a regular basis. Then you can come talk to me about ‘brain no work.’  Sounds like brain no work to me.  …yes, brain no work.  Do you consider yourself a good writer?  I think that people are touched by what I say, and find meaning in my words. I don’t know that I write with the intention of being perceived as good, so much as I write to understand what I feel and then sometimes that resonates with others, which I do enjoy hearing about. Do you write with the intention to be perceived?  On some level, yes. I am perceiving myself through a process of introspection and analyzing the various and numerous issues. Then, I send my writing out into the world – multiple times, for months on end – all of my own free will, all so that a million people will see me and maybe, just maybe, one or two will resonate.  Do you think it’s a little narcissistic to write an interview with you as both journalist and subject?  Maybe, but so is all poetry. This is just poetry reimagined baby.

By Peyton K. Dortch I have always wrestled with the shame of being sensitive. I have heard all the advice. “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, “Don’t let it get under your skin”. All of it I have heard and tried to do. But I always fall back into my sensitive ways. I had an awakening while I was somberly taking a walk listening to Frank Ocean. What is so wrong with being sensitive? What’s wrong with feeling a lot? Frank Ocean is my favorite musician because his songs capture emotions effortlessly. They make me think of my own feelings. If Frank is allowed to be sensitive why am I am limiting myself? For the longest time I did not recognize how sensitive I was. It was probably a mix of consciously not recognizing it and subconsciously. But I can put an estimate of when I realized it when I was in middle school. Like most people, middle school was the depths of hell. But it was especially terrible because I just felt so much. Every emotion hit me like a ton of bricks. I was never just a little melancholy; I was fully depressed. I was never just angry; I was filled with rage. Between hating myself and feeling like everyone hated me I was a complete mess. But I came to know that I was sensitive during this time. I was just one of those people that felt a lot. Ever since that realization I have actively tried to be less sensitive. Then the new buzzword “nonchalant” comes into the cultural zeitgeist. Now being nonchalant is the best thing to be. So like most people my age I also tried to be nonchalant. I tried to not care when a boy didn’t like me, I tried to not care when I lost friends. But all that did was make me more sensitive. You may be wondering what my astrological sign is by now, I am a Pisces. Yes, as a water sign I can veer into the dramatics. But no matter what sign you are, you too can be sensitive. I argue that being sensitive is not a weakness but a strength. All of the best literature is written by people who are acutely aware of their feelings and thus they can write those feelings into the characters we love. The best actors of our time are sensitive to depicting emotions on the silver screen. But how could they do that without first being a sensitive person in the real world? The best musicians have a particular skill of writing lyrics to match an emotion. This takes introspection and sensitivity. The world needs sensitive people, people that aren’t afraid to wear their emotions on their sleeve. To get philosophical for a second, what is a life lived without feeling? Who wants to go about life and not feel anything? That’s not a life, that’s a warm body. I want to sweat the small stuff. I want to let things get under my skin. I want to feel. I want to love. I want to be angry. I want to be sad. I want all these things because why not? Why go through life like a robot when I am not? I want to feel the depths of every emotion because that is also where wisdom is plundered. How would I come to know that I am sensitive without being sensitive to start with? Another thing to consider. If you are actively trying to not be sensitive aren’t you then hyper aware of everything so as to control your emotions. Therefore, you are actually just being sensitive. To all my sensitive people out there, embrace it. And to people who aren’t, feel the feelings without fear. Watch a movie and cry. Listen to Frank Ocean and let a salty tear fall down your face. Get angry about something (within reason). Embrace having a crush on someone. Let the feelings come. Let it wash over you like a violent wave. Let the wave pull you out to sea. And when you come to shore let the remaining water stay on your skin, in your hair, soaking your clothes. Let the emotions run through your body without shame.

By Maggie Melnik - Linger by The Cranberries (this one is mandatory)  - Slow Dance by Clairo  - Blue Light by Mazzy Star  - Re:stacks by Bon Iver  - Smoke by Indigo De Souza  - Any Pheobe Bridgers song ever  - Between the Bars by Elliot Smith  - Forwards beckon rebound by Andrianna Lenker  - About You by The 1975 (Also mandatory)  - Halloween by Noah Kahan  - Change by Big Thief  - Blouse by Clairo  - I Know You by Faye Webster  - Motel 6 by River Whyless  - Watching Him Fade Away by Mac DeMarco  - Trouble by Cage the Elephant  - Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division  - Hard Times by Ethel Cain  - Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten  - Bathroom Light by Mt. Joy  - Spit in the Sink by Haley Heynderickx  - Glue Myself Shut by Noah Kahan  - Nectar Of The Gods by Lana Del Rey  - SPEYSIDE by Bon Iver  - Bags by Clairo