Chopped by Claire Borden

I LOVE cooking shows. One of my longtime favorites is Chopped, a TV show where contestants must make a three course meal incorporating four mystery ingredients for a chance to win 10,000 dollars. Last night, five of my friends and I were laying around my house looking for something to do but coming up empty every time. Then suddenly, inspiration hit. What if we divide into teams and play Chopped ourselves? This got us up and moving quickly as we drew from a hat to decide teams. Two were judges, and the rest were competing against each other.

The mystery ingredients included Takis, peanut butter, chicken tenders, romaine lettuce, and sriracha, and we had 25 minutes to turn them into two dishes. My team consisted of my brother, my friend, and I. Tensions were running high as the two teams tried to sabotage and insult each others dishes with early 2000s pop songs playing loudly in the background. Another curveball was the fact that our judges were incredibly picky eaters, so whatever we made had to be simple enough to appeal to them.

At the end of the 25 minutes my team had assembled a tostada topped with crispy chicken tenders, shredded lettuce, a dusting of taki crumbs, and a sriracha aoli. For our desert we made peanut butter stuffed cookie dough balls crusted with crushed pretzels shallow fried and drizzled with nutella. While I wasn’t pleased with the creativity of our entree, it didn’t taste half bad, probably because it only consisted of ready made chicken tenders, a tortilla, romaine lettuce, sriracha and sour cream, and takis. Our desert however was the crowning glory. It was creative, delicious, and the presentation was beautiful. I was certain we had the competition in the bag.

The other team ended up re-frying the chicken tenders in the taki crumbs and serving them as lettuce wraps drizzled in sriracha, and though I may be biased, it neither tasted nor looked appetizing. For their desert they made some sort of cookies and cream marshmallow fluff peanut butter monstrosity that felt like cheap pandering to the judges’s childish palates. Luckily the judges saw through it, and the other team’s dish was on the chopping block. Although the only prize was cleaning the kitchen, this was a fun and inexpensive activity for bored teenagers, and we are already planning our next cooking game show adventure.

A Love Letter to Shaker Rugby By Claire Borden


When I joined the rugby team, I was a quiet ninth grader trying to adjust to a new school. I had never really been good at a sport before, and I don’t know what exactly made me choose rugby, but when my science teacher told me the team was recruiting, I decided to join. All of the contact was very daunting at first, but I realized as long as I tackled and fell properly, I wasn’t really in danger. I have never been particularly aggressive before, but I learned that I liked tackling, and I was good at it. I had never been in a space before where that kind of physical aggression was encouraged and even celebrated in women. It felt revolutionary. Rugby allowed me to unapologetically take up space and be “unladylike”. It also gave me an outlet for the frustration that I bottled up all day in school. 

Our team is scrappy. Very few of us had ever played the game before, and we struggled a lot with numbers. We didn’t win a game until my junior year and we were often beat by double and even triple digits. But we kept showing up to practice and working to improve. We practiced outside all year long, rarely canceling because of weather, because as a small, new team we did not have access to an indoor practice space. We played one memorable game on Mothers Day outside in 40 degree weather during a sleet storm. 

This year we saw all of our hard work pay off. We recruited many new players, and finally had a full team. We started to score frequently and even win games. Last weekend we went to the state tournament as part of the flex division, the more casual division of club teams that we play against every weekend. We ended up placing second in our division and it was incredibly emotional for our whole team and a celebration of our incredible resilience and tenacity. It was also our nine seniors last game, many of whom have been on the team since it started, so it was definitely bittersweet. Even though I couldn’t play because of a sprained ankle (rugby injury) it was an incredible day and I am so proud of how far we’ve come.

Downton Abbey by Claire Borden


My mom and I love to watch TV together. There is no better feeling than coming home with our favorite takeout and turning on an episode of our show. For us, TV is an immersive experience. When we would watch America’s Next Top Model we would pretend to be Tyra Banks for hours after finishing the episode, debating whether our cats were more “high fashion” or “commercial” and practicing our smize. As we watched the models get judged, we would critique their photos with the authority of professional models. 

After we finished the later seasons, which were our favorite, we decided we needed to find a new show. My mom suggested Downton Abbey, a popular period drama about a wealthy family in England.  I reluctantly agreed, but I did not have high hopes. How could anything replace the drama and artistry of Top Model? Boy was I in for a treat. I was enthralled by whirlwind romance, witty dialogue, stunning landscapes and outfits, not to mention those accents! While watching Top Model worked us into a frenzy with eliminations and screaming matches between models, Downton Abbey soothed us and let us escape to a world without  responsibility, where ladies maids and valets dress you for dinner, and your biggest problem is finding an heir to inherit your fortune. In order to complete the experience, we usually watch an episode with a cup of earl grey (like the earl of grantham) and some sort of pastry or sweet in hand, and our cats on our laps. It is our sacred time. 

But what I love most about it is that it’s something for my mom and I to do together to relax. It’s a built in hour that I get to spend with her, which is not to be taken for granted given how busy we both are. It sort of reminds me of the way she used to read to me, a chapter every night before bed of a book we would choose together. I want to treasure every moment with her before I go to college, because even though I hate thinking about it, this is probably the last time I will ever live under her roof and be able to call upstairs for her, instead of calling her on the phone.

We are almost finished with Downton Abbey. It feels bittersweet and symbolic of how I am approaching my senior year and 18th birthday. Although it makes me sad, I am also excited to create a new tradition, and I know no matter how old I get, I will prioritize spending time with my mom and creating special rituals for us.

The Orthodontist by Anna Welsh

There is absolutely nothing in this world that I detest more than the orthodontist. The dentist may be a close second, but the orthodontist always prevails. At least at the dentist, I can feel like I have accomplished something. I can walk out with a brighter smile, despite the pain I endured in the dental chair to get it. I walk out of the orthodontist feeling heavier, beaten down. My mouth is battered, and I carry a new box of Invisalign trays in the crook of my arm. The orthodontist seldom delivers good news. My teeth, somehow, are still not straight.

I have been going to the orthodontist since elementary school. I have gone through teeth pulls, rubber bands, and tooth attachments. I have felt the squeeze of their tools in my mouth, begging my stubborn teeth to realign themselves. My older brother graduated from the orthodontist and subsequently was voted “best smile” by the senior class. I’m the bitter younger sister, left behind on a gray plastic chair beneath a bright yellow light.

I begrudgingly went to the orthodontist this past Friday. I sat in the corner of the waiting room, ten years older than every other patient. Suddenly, the sun began to shine through the windows. Birds began to sing. A rainbow extended from the dry asphalt of the parking lot over the building. The orthodontists smiled widely and told me what I had been waiting for, waiting for since I first entered that godforsaken orthodontist’s office. I was almost done. By next year, my teeth would finish the cruel cycle of Invisalign trays tightening around my teeth with every coming week. I would be done. I could almost hear a choir of schoolchildren singing “Hallelujah” in my ear.

There were certainly setbacks. I lost a good few of my Invisalign trays, I forgot to wear them, and I once swallowed a rubber band. Alas, I had prevailed. Never again would I step foot in that orthodontist’s office, I would be done. No longer would my mouth be stretched and prodded. No longer would I have to deal with the gloved fingers of an absolute stranger touching my teeth. I have never received such wonderful news.

(Actually Good) Sapphic Representation by El Szalay

It’s that time of year again. You walk in to your local Target to find the aisles stocked with rainbow merchandise. Companies change their profile pictures to rainbow versions of their logo. That’s right, it’s Pride Month.

In my last post, I wrote about queer representation in The Legend of Korra and how Nickelodeon ruined the show’s chance of pioneering LGBTQ+ representation in family-friendly television. I briefly mentioned at the end of that post what I planned to write about for this one. I’ve had this idea since the beginning of this school year, but wanted to save it for my last one, since I could tie it in to Pride Month. I wanted to recommend good examples of sapphic (non-men loving non-men) people and relationships, specifically in books.

First of all, what makes sapphic representation great? Here’s some qualities that I look for:

  1. The sapphic characters are taken seriously. By this, I mean that they aren’t over-fetishized or exclusively based on stereotypes. It shouldn’t feel like their sexuality is their only relevant character trait, or like they were just thrown in there because the creator wanted a sapphic character.
  2. The creator is a queer woman/non-binary person. This isn’t to say that men or straight women can’t write sapphic relationships well, but it’s generally more relatable when it’s written by someone who understands how queer women work. Plus, queer creators are less likely to shy away from letting their characters talk about their queerness.
  3. Diversity. Queerness is often linked to whiteness, so seeing non-white characters who are open about their queerness helps create a more accurate, inclusive narrative of LGBTQ+ people today. Plus, many trans or gender non-conforming people also identify as sapphic, yet it’s hard to find stories about them.
  4. Lastly, for the sake of this blog, the sapphic characters are lead characters. There are some really amazing examples of queer women as side characters out there (such as Tara and Darcy from Heartstopper), but I want to take the chance to highlight media that focuses on the beauty of sapphic love and joy.

All that considered, here’s two books that I recommend you check out this Pride Month!

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Synopsis: Evelyn Hugo is known for her scandalous lifestyle, having been married seven times in her life. Several years after leaving the Hollywood scene, she approaches relatively unknown journalist Monique Grant, asking her to write and publish her biography. As Evelyn goes into great detail about her life and her marriages, she reveals the truth about several of her scandals, including who her true love really was

I’ve seen this book hyped up on TikTok for several months before I actually read it, and I understood the hype as soon I as I started it. The characters were lovable (well, except for the ones that were not supposed to be) and all had interesting stories to tell. Evelyn’s bisexuality is handled very well, especially when she comes out to Monique and explicitly says she is bi. After all, it’s not often that queer characters openly state their identities. I also thought it was interesting that a lot of Evelyn’s story takes place before the Stonewall Riots, showing what life was like for queer people before liberation movements rose. All in all, I absolutely adore The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo for its story and the way it addresses LGBTQ+ issues in history.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This book contains depictions of sexual assault, domestic abuse, cheating, homophobia, biphobia, alcoholism, and some mentions of suicide.

The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

Synopsis: 15-year-old Morgan lives by the beach on a little island, and she hates it. Her family and friends don’t understand her, and she doesn’t know how any of them would feel about her being a lesbian. That is, until she befriends the mysterious girl who saves her from drowning and realizes island life isn’t as horrible as she thought.

If you, like me, are a huge sucker for graphic novels that you can read in one sitting, this is the book for you. First of all, the art is stunning. The whole book is in full color, and I could spend several minutes admiring the art. The main story itself isn’t super unique (minus the selkies), but I’d argue that makes it even better. Morgan’s story may not be unique, but that makes her very relatable to queer readers and offers a realistic perspective for allies hoping to learn more about the queer experience. The characters, especially Keltie, are so fun and the ending broke my heart. Though I do wish Morgan and/or Keltie clearly confirmed their sexualities, The Girl from the Sea, is a cute, easy-to-read graphic novel that is worth checking out.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This book contains homophobia and mentions of drowning.

Happy reading, and happy Pride Month!

(A Mini Reflection)/Books my Kids Have to Have by Jaimee Martin

No, David! by David Shannon    Make Good the Promises: Reclaiming Reconstruction and Its Legacies:  Conwill, Kinshasha Holman, Gardullo, Paul: 9780063160644: Books   Pete the Cat I Love My White Shoes: James Dean (Illustrator), Eric Litwin:  9780545419666: Books   Todos hacemos caca: Gomi, Taro: 9780916291778: Books   Dork Diaries 1: Tales from a Not-So-Fabulous Life - Kindle edition by  Russell, Rachel Renée, Russell, Rachel Renée. Children Kindle eBooks @

Well, here I be with my last blog of the year. It’s bittersweet to look back on all the transitions I’ve made creatively, but the most important realization I had seems so elementary now – I should write about what I want to write about. I so, so appreciate the directions that I’ve taken, including the dead ends and bumps along the way. I began with hopes of a monthly music review, but that obviously was unsustainable because I simply had too many thoughts for each song. Next, I drifted into a levitating path that included a mashup of my personality through reminiscing (Sentimentality) and looking ahead (It’s My Birthday: the 17th One) – 17 has been great by the way. And then finally….I found a beat that I really loved and really made sense; I started sharing what I have already written for myself.

I know I’ve said this a million times by now, but my Notes app is so precious to me. It’s evidence of my innate need to write and through blogging it, I’ve uncovered the value of those words that were just for me. Recording all the different parts of myself, knowing myself, and expressing myself is all pretty cool, but it’s brought to life when I can put it out there on a platform. I feel connected in a different way when others have the chance to relate. Anyway, in contrast to reflecting and reminiscence, the last list I want to share is one for the future – these are all the books I will most definitely be buying my children.

This list includes all the lessons and entertainment I want them to have from infancy until when they will choose books on their own, but my main goal is to foster a love for literature in my kids. I want reading time to be a regular occurrence in my house, and I hope it guides my children’s imagination and values as they mature. I hope they see themselves and diversity in the characters created by authors across the world. I hope they absorb the Spanish language and culture through translated versions of all the toddler classics. Most of all, I hope they see kids being kids (monsters as they are) in characters like a wild David Shannon from his children’s memoir series No David! and an explorative Peter from Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day.

Of course, if they aren’t readers, then that’s how it was meant to be, but at least I’ll gain this nostalgic feeling for myself. Many of the books on this list are my childhood and middle school favorites, or even literature I turn to now, so to have them on my children’s shelves will be an accomplishment itself. Others of these books I’ve come to know by being an older sister to small children today. I have loved watching them light up to the characters and storylines they immerse themselves in. The rest of these books I found online by intentionally searching for children’s stories which show the messages I want to show my kids – children simply living in a culture that is different from ours, children questioning authority and systems, children being ok with failure, etc.

Maybe you will see something you like and add it to your own list – happy reading 🙂

  1. it’s my body
  2. jesus storybook bible
  3. cordouroy
  4. if you give a mouse a cookie
  5. amelia badelia
  6. pete the cat
  7. where the wild things are
  8. harry potter
  9. goodnight moon
  10. chronicles of narnia
  11. dork diaries
  12. holes
  13. bernstain bears (especially …and the spooky old tree)
  14. juny b
  15. diary of a wimpy kid
  16. the little prince
  17. brown bear brown bear
  18. cam jensen
  19. a fly went by
  20. i am not a duck
  21. chrysanthemum
  22. zen pig
  23. little lucy and her little white lies
  24. everyone poops
  25. my brother martin
  26. the very hungry caterpillar
  27. the nutcracker
  28. dream big, little one
  29. llama llama red pajama
  30. no, david!
  31. the story of my open adoption
  32. fry bread
  33. mommy momma and me
  34. the name jar
  35. i am mixed
  36. stolen words
  37. wonder
  38. song for a whale
  39. make good the promises
  40. the rainbow fish
  41. the snowy day
  42. one
  43. this is how we do it
  44. children’s encyclopedia
  45. the big book of why

The Writer Against the Speaker by Evan Barragate

Pen definition and meaning | Collins English Dictionary

Before each time I write, I face the conflict of deciding whether to express what I have on my mind as creatively and openly as possible or to craft a piece to please my audience. Because of this struggle, I often say that I cannot think of what to write. In reality, however, my issue is that there are many versions of what I wish to say existing in my head. Some of them are more true and easier to write, and others are contrived messages that are difficult to formulate. But there are always those endless, fiery thoughts I could easily share if I allow myself. So, I believe that I have never been stuck with what is known as “writer’s block.”

On the other hand, speaking is another story. Throughout my life, the spoken word has irritated me. I am embittered when I cannot effectively express what I mean to say due to interruptions from strutters, sneezes, lost trains of thought, and the invasive need for good timing. When I mispronounce a word or use one that does not exist, no red squiggly line without an opinion appears; judgemental people are the only ones to correct me, and they are far worse. The same goes for listening to people speak as opposed to reading what they have to say. When someone has written boring ideas that I cannot stand to pay attention to, I can simply stop reading. But when a similarly boring person is speaking, there is no way to stop hearing them. Fearing the threat of boring my audience with my words or annoying them with my voice, I have completely given up on attempting to sound intelligent when speaking.

A few months ago, my friends asked me to look at an essay I had written for an application. After reading it, they did not believe that their friend who they had never heard speak a cohesive sentence, who frequently uses phrases such as “most funnest,” had created a beautifully written, scholarly paper. Ironically, the foolish front I put up saves me from embarrassment. My theory is that if everything I say is unintelligent, I will never be caught in a humiliating failed attempt to seem bright. And I know that it is easy to assume that I paint myself as a fool because that is how I see myself or I constantly seek attention (both of which are slightly true), I mostly do so because professing my ideas aloud is useless when I have the tool of writing.

So, if you ever feel like no one is listening, it is likely because no one is. If you have a feeling that people would rather pay attention when you speak to make fun of how you look or sound when you do so, it is best to assume that this is the truth. If your words are scrambled and you cannot articulate them perfectly, just stop trying; write them down instead. You can delete what you regret saying, you can take as much time as you wish, and you can say exactly what you desire to without worrying about who will see it––because no one has to. You may find that you have developed your ideas so profoundly that the attention of an audience has become meaningless.

Nickelodeon and Homophobia by El Szalay

In recent years, it has become more normal than ever for LGBTQ+ people to see themselves represented in TV, books, and movies. While it’s a step in the right direction for equality, it doesn’t mean that homophobia is over and we’re all friends. In fact, homophobia still plagues the entertainment industry, especially when it comes to entertainment aimed for younger audiences. Case in point, Nickelodeon.

If you ask teenagers today what shows they grew up watching, they might say iCarlySpongeBob SquarePants, or The Fairly Odd Parents, all of which aired on Nickelodeon in the 2000s. In particular, one of the most well-known shows from this era of Nickelodeon (and my favorite show ever) is the critically acclaimed series Avatar: The Last Airbender. Following the adventures of Aang, the last living Air Nomad and the only one capable of bending all four elements, this series aired from 2005-2008 and still holds up to today’s standards. It was so popular that in 2012, Nickelodeon aired the follow-up series about the Avatar after Aang, The Legend of Korra.

Contrary to popular opinion, I liked The Legend of Korra a lot. It’s not as good as the original series, but there’s a lot to like about it. Before watching, I had a few parts of the series spoiled for me, including the fact that Korra and Asami end up together at the end of the last season. Normally I’d be upset about getting spoiled, but the representation-starved lesbian in me was bouncing off the walls. It’s so rare to see sapphic couples in media that aren’t over-fetishized or end in heartbreak. I binged the whole show in a week, each episode making me more and more excited about the ending. However, by the time I finished the last episode, no relationship was confirmed. I was a bit disappointed and wanted answers. I did some research, and my findings left me disappointed, but not surprised.

As it turns out, Bryan Konietzko, co-creator of both Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra, posted on Tumblr that “Korrasami is canon” a few days after the final episode aired. In the post-series comics, the two are clearly dating, unlike how their relationship was merely hinted at in season four of the series. This is because Nickelodeon told the show’s creators, who were pushing for Korra and Asami to be canon during the final season, that there was a limit to how far they could go. There is also some speculation that this may also explain why The Legend of Korra‘s seasons were shorter than its predecessor. Considering that several straight couples have been explicitly confirmed on screen in Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of  Korra, this clearly has to do with the fact that Korra and Asami are queer.

Like I said, this information is disappointing, but not surprising. TV shows and movies targeted towards children have historically shied away from LGBTQ+ representation out of fear of backlash from parents. If parents are angry enough at a TV channel for airing queer media, they won’t let their kids watch it anymore. Less viewers means less money, which is why the queer representation in The Legend of Korra is so subtle. Had Nickelodeon allowed Korra and Asami to confirm their relationship in the series, they would’ve been great representation of queer women in media. Girls yet to realize they are queer could look at Korra and Asami and realize that they want a relationship like theirs, and those of us who are out could see our community represented on screen. But out of fear of losing money, they made sure the final episode could be interpreted as two girls being the best of friends. It stops The Legend of Korra from being what I consider to be great sapphic representation (which may or may not be the topic of my next blog post), but the framework is definitely there. With shows like She-Ra and the Princesses of Power or The Owl House being able to include openly LGBTQ+ characters and relationships, the future of queerness in family-friendly media looks much brighter than before.

Music(?) to My Ears by Lizzy Huang

It’s that time of year where exams are over, big projects are mainly over, grades are pretty much set, and assignments and deadlines are slowly rolling off into the abyss. It feels like summer should already be here, and we definitely shouldn’t be in school. It feels like I have nothing to do, yet so much to do at the same time. It feels like I have to think about so much future stuff that I don’t want to be thinking about. It feels like I have to be proactive, pushy, and panicking for something, but I’m not…?

I was so used to being in this academic grind. This entire year felt like a jolting snap back to reality in comparison to my sophomore fever dream year. I was constantly stressed, constantly busy, constantly worrying and thinking about the next thing, and I truly never had a moment to sit down and internalize.

And to be honest, it showed. And I mean, it SHOWS.

Now, I’m confused. My brain is confused. My body, even, is confused, because I’m weirdly tired all the time.

But most of all, I don’t know how to deal with time anymore. I sincerely don’t know what I’m supposed to do, even though I objectively do know what I’m supposed to do. And at the same time that it feels like there’s so much time, I also frustratingly feel like there simply aren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish what I want to.

Albeit, while the above hopefully sounds incredibly soul-sucking and painful as it’s surely written to sound, the single most frustrating part of this entire process that I have suffered through has been….


I am and have always been one to embrace music, one to use it to hug me, to comfort me, to be hype with me, to cry with me, to punch the wall with me (not literally, I’m not Andy), and one to really just be. Music has always been an extension of myself, and my music taste has always been so diverse that I’ve always been able to reliably lean on it whenever I need. And with this hectic year, with the constantly shifting attention and the constant state of stress and the constant emotions, I always somehow knew exactly what type of music I wanted to listen to for exactly which mood I was in at exactly the right time. I had a playlist for stressful cramming AP sessions, I had different music for different drives, I had music for chill homework days, I had music for 1:00 a.m. House of the Spirits essay-writing days, I had music for dancing and music for crying, I had everything. And I mean, it was SPOT ON. I can’t explain the accuracy, I can’t explain the details, but just know that my music game was absolutely balling this year.

Well, up until now.

For some odd, inexplainable reason, I no longer possess that same superpower I had just a couple days ago. My brain simply won’t let me decide what I want to feel, and as a result, I CAN’T EVER SEEM TO PICK THE PERFECT MUSIC TO LISTEN TO. And it’s so unbelievably frustrating that no one could even imagine.

For example, today I was sitting in the Prius and setting up Bluetooth to get ready to play a song or a piece. I clicked on my chillaxy waxy playlist – a playlist originally created to hold my hand through AP studying sessions that soon turned into just an iconic mood for driving – thinking that was what I wanted. The second the song started playing, I sucked air through my teeth and immediately started cringing, edging on the line of pure disgust. I hadn’t even started driving at that point, and I was scared. Scared that I either 1) don’t know myself at all (very possible, to be honest), or 2) I had lost interest in that genre of music! I blinked a couple of times and decided to try again. This time, I went with my chamby wamby playlist, a playlist of classical chamber pieces which I often listen to in the car.

Once again, I cringed. Only this time, it was far worse. I felt myself starting to genuinely dislike the piece I was listening to, and I was disappointed in myself. How, and why, could this happen to me?!

Imagine this: shortly after, I was sitting there at the wheel of the Prius, parked impatiently as it waited for me, basically internally crying, to frantically scroll through all my playlists desperately looking for some straw to latch onto, some saving grace that would solve this problem I didn’t know I could even have. I oscillated between my old jammies, my oldER jammies (both playlists of which are self-explanatory – roughly 70-90s and 40-60s bops respectively), my violin jammies, my piano jammies, pajamy jammies, celly welly, I even hit on melly welly at one point (but I wasn’t sad enough for that one for sure), motivation (I didn’t need any of that so that went out the window quickly), and even reggaes for days which my friend and I made as a joke (if I could insert the crying emoji here, I would – my pain was real). I went through playlists that my friends had made as memories from music camp and other events, but I felt nothing. In fact, with each click of the button, with each song that had started to play with just even a few seconds, I felt disgusted.

I sincerely (as I’ve never been so stoic or sincere about anything else in my life) regret to inform you that on this day, Sunday, May 22nd 2022, I drove – for the first time in my entire career as a child, a student, a daughter, and a person – without. Music.

Instead, I was accompanied by crickets and intrusive thoughts.



Tarot Card Reading by Carrington Hughes

This past weekend, I went on a trip to Rhode Island to go on a couple of college tours. After finishing one of my tours, my mother and I decided to walk around the city  in order to get a better feel for the campus environment. We ate, we talked, we laughed, we cried, and then, suddenly, I saw it. “Psychic readings here” plastered in big, bold hot pink letters across the front of a run down building. I screamed, causing my mother and other fellow pedestrians to flinch. I ran towards the establishment and knocked frantically as I anxiously waited to see the powerful woman who would be reading my future. We waited at the door for about 8 minutes until we finally realized that no one was coming. Naturally, I was disappointed that this so called “psychic” couldn’t foresee my arrival so I then proceeded to call the number on the window to see if I could contact her another way. She answered, irritatingly, and said that she was on vacation. I replied, nicely, and asked why her open sign was still turned on. She hung up and my mother and I continued our venture across campus. I found one store that had a lot of pretty crystals which I decided to enter because I am very easily entertained. Coincidentally, I found out that one of the workers did tarot card readings and I FINALLY got my future read. I know you’re on the edge of your seat to find out what he said but I promise you it was fairly anti-climatic. Nonetheless, I enjoyed every second of it and I look forward to seeing my tarot reading bestie in the future <3.