front cover:
“Our Lonely Neighbors”
photo series by Chris Sheridan
back cover: “today gift”
by Emma Burns
by Dr. Bob Jantzen Professor of Mathematics and Statistics
“It’s About Time”
inside cover
come on in... you’re right on time.
President & Editor-in-Chief
Lu Nogueira
Creative Director
Nikki Amoachi
Outreach & Administration
Taleen Postian
Social Media & Marketing
Valeria Torres
Executive Board Advisor
Sylvia Aalund
Editors
Catherine Messier
Emily Hanlon
Emma Burns
Erica Marciante
Frankie Frabizzio
Gemma Krautzel
Hannah de Melo
Isabella Riitano
Faculty Advisor
Kathryn Szumanski
English Department
Heather Hicks
Michael Malloy
Amanda Eliades
Graphic Services
John Gebhart
Joseph O’Pella
Barbara Joyce
Jackie Molan
Julia Wolfthal
Katelyn Hume
Katie Christine
Maddie Rhodes
Maggie Parham
Margaux Barrett
McCauley Bair
Megan Rigione
Mikyla Lemole
Milagros Capcha
Noah Lanouette
Ronnie Glick
Sanskar Agrawal
Sonia Singh
For the past few years, time has been spinning out of control, and it’s easy to feel lost and forget that we’re not supposed to have it all figured out. We spend so much time wondering where we fit into the community that surrounds us, or our role in the world at large, that we can forget that we also have make time to do our laundry and get 8 hours of sleep.
In this book, we ask the reader to slow down from existentialism and assess the small things in life, the experiences that we share with each other, and the things that we hold onto when it feels like gravity is trying to pull us away from the ground.
Introducing such a broad concept as our theme for this year was daunting. But at the same time, it broke down the walls of our conception of art, inviting submissions from doodles in class to telescopic photos of the planets in our solar system.
In 4 chapters, “Everything & Nothing” plays with the passage of time over the years, the stages of life we grow through, and what it means to be a person navigating a world that at times feels like it’s opening up beneath us; the highs, the lows, the building and breaking, reflecting on the past and planning the future, but mostly, living in the present.
Plant your feet on the ground and prepare for the journey. Remember that you’re right where you’re supposed to be. -Lu <3
Being human is feeling temporary in an infinite world of possibilities spur of the moments become memories, memories become stories and stories will live on in our place with them, we will never be lost and without them, we can never be found.
One must inhale to exhale. Breathe it in Yes, Life.
photo by Ava McKula
by Jackie Carroll
in the orange hour, i see you for who you truly embody, i realize what you took and devoured, when i made you feel like somebody. and in the orange hour, i finally sense clarity and remorse, and at this time, i must self-empower, while my mind screams-- my inner monologue hoarse. and in the orange hour, the sun glows in a hue rarely seen, the night is here, blooming with moonflower, the flowers & i basking in this evanescent scene. and in the orange hour, time and space appear liminal, i know this sorrow i will overpower: this moment feels downright biblical.
by Lu Nogueira“pumpkin pie”
We cross the creaking wooden bridge
Our bodies wrapped in terrycloth and cork slides
The frigid sand crystals like white ice
Hiding underneath our soles
The muted turquoise sky above
Primed to reveal the hidden sun
Patiently, we make conversation
Our frightening ambitions and improbable dreams
Provoking dialogue of our future
Receptive of concerns about our longevity
We guide each other with reassurance
Toward romantic imagination and promises
A microscopic speck in the distance
Illuminates the Atlantic with memorable passion
Beams of light skip across the water
With great speed and determination
Tagging our chests and faces
And warming our chilled veins
Yet our eyes wide as coastlines
Hypnotized by the gleaming horizon
Rising gently as to not wake the residents
We marveled with joy and gratitude
Entranced in Earth’s golden gift
photo by Nikki AmoachiSunday mornings, when the kitchen turned into our dance floor. When the walls were covered with paintings to disguise the polluted holes. When I wasn’t scared of getting old. What does it mean to exist?
Souvenirs and letting go.
“Before I leave,” rippled through the wind. I remember the golden hue of the mourning sun, basking in the cricketing choir of the silver moon. A lingering sense of nostalgia chased by the bittersweet “Goodbye,” And I thought, why does everything end on a Tuesday afternoon?
It’s almost 2 am, and my youth I try to preserve. But like a glass of wine that slipped from my drunken hands, My memories faltered and splashed onto the floor. Now all that is left are stains.
I miss when life felt warm, When people were buildings, And loving parents was easy, I’ve never been rewarded for being silent. And there’s a war in my head.
But now that I’m a little older, I have learned that peace isn’t necessarily quiet. Growing up caused so many riots.
I can’t say this to myself, so I’ll say it to the mirror: some part of me will always mourn you.
Art by Maggie Parham
GRAYSON PRUETT
“There is a conventional path in life, it’s great, full of smooth roads. But what I’ve realized is that the conventional path doesn’t really exist. There is some beauty in not having a conventional path, having different life experiences, and going through different hardships and successes. A smooth sea never made a skillful sailor. I try and apply that to my life and understand that bumps happen and that’s ok, and it makes you a more rounded person, flexible, compassionate..all the struggles ultimately lead to strength” (Thomas Dixon, MFBT Podcast Ep 8)
I started Meant for Big Things for many reasons. The first being, a feeling I felt when I was abroad of the vastness of the world and the ability to accomplish anything in the world. I felt Meant for Big Things and wanted to channel that energy into something shareable. Secondly, I have always enjoyed and participated in self-improvement courses and conferences and I was motivated to put what I learned into practice and establish a platform promoting positivity and empowerment.
Each podcast episode is completely unique but includes similar structures including personal anecdotes and actionable insights listeners can apply to their lives today. Ranging from 3-25 minutes, each episode delivers positivity and passion. Life is vibrant, comprised of many differences, and full of extraordinary possibilities for all.
I wanted to create a podcast that reflected the multifacetedness of life through a wide variety of episode topics with a similar mission of self-improvement. I have dedicated episodes to overcoming fear, creating opportunities, how words transform our minds and shape our life, stress, studying abroad, coping with grief, living fearlessly, creating confidence, the value of mentoring, and more!
photography by: Grayson Pruett and Quinn Burns
Meant for Big Things means that every individual is made for greatness and can accomplish anything in this wide world. As I began a campaign titled “Why You Are Meant for Big Things” where individuals could nominate others and highlight why they are MFBT in their own unique way, I
realized that despite the overarching meaning of Meant for Big Things, everyone views themselves and other people as being Meant for Big Things in their own way. The way I am Meant for Big Things is different than the way my siblings, my friends, and my peers are. There is enough space in this world for all of us to succeed, accomplish our dreams, and make the world a better place.
“Follow your instincts and dream big. Do not put yourself in a box. If you feel like something is right, go for it and anything you put energy behind will come to fruition. You are Meant for Big Things.” (MFBT Podcast Ep 7)
photo by Nikki Amoachi
by Lu Nogueira
my dad laughs when i tell him i ate an orange in the shower but admits his judgment once he’s tried it i used to love eating watermelon in the pool asphalt making imprints on my elbows when i hold my friends hands
i like to find the smoothest spot and circle it with my thumb i’ve learned how to help them soften the tension
my sister has a small piece of hair that never leaves her hand and i would follow her movements twisting and twirling mine in my fingers
my best friend laughs and i see crinkly eyes and dimples and another came back from a spring break trip with a bag of tiny seashells come inside and rest for a moment i promise things won’t always be so hard.
come and be human with me
by Ava McKula
“Sea
kisses land as softly as snowflakes, tension embossed in a thin layer of ice, diamonds and pearls on her delicate lashes, the moon and the stars worship her, this darling of the december night.
a sparkling glow illuminates her cheeks, fingers intertwined in numbing bliss, minds spinning alongside mars, piano keys the gentle melody of this moment, as time becomes suspended in frozen nirvana.
she seeks refuge in your calm embrace, whispers and smiles resonate in gossamer waves, the fragility of the moment is undeniable, as you emanate your radiating warmth, and she sends a chill through your core.
because this moment is temporary, nothing more. she has patience, and she has time, yet only for the sublime, soon her love deep and serene, will leave before you could have foreseen.
“things don’t always turn out the way you intended”
Mathematics and Statistics
things don’t always turn out the way you intended...
“life in a pink pov”by Taleen Postian
“lil nas x is my princess diana”by Dr.
Professor of Mathematics and Statistics
“god would choose me over you”
by Taleen Postian“Friends help friends...”
Bob Jantzen
don’t look down by
Lu Nogueiramother of two daughters used to tell us that the scale only worked if we looked straight ahead. i spent my childhood ignoring the number. i see the way she looks at herself and i wonder how someone who has grown two bodies in her belly could ever want to take up less space.
Art by Maggie Parham
by Lu Nogueira
i’m in a moment where life doesn’t feel real detached from reality… whatever you want to call it. everything seems liminal… time stretches into infinity. i feel stuck, but ready to transcend, simultaneously. my head is pounding, i don’t think i like it here.
infection
by Mary Fleming
i am learning how to unravel the knot
the knot is not distinctly old or distinctly new instead each string, itself, is a weave of ancient and modern some days i can keep pulling and pulling, slowly shrinking the knot other days my fingers feel calloused after a few pulls
some knots are stubborn and some pulls unknot more string than others
at times the knot feels like i will never get to the end at others the knot feels small, like I misremembered her size some string i remember from childhood and other string i have never seen before i have learned i will never unravel the knot yet taking time to pull means the knot stops growing
whether i know it or not each pull is an act of love to unravel is to heal
The Catch Up photo by Ava McKula
Erosion
by Emily Hanlon
Is it loud enough to console your disappearing dunes, slipping and stumbling clumsily into that seductive undertow like drunken visitors, those buzzards flocking to peck the remaining meat off your sore bones, admiring their destruction, dropping pennies in my cup, the metallic clap of copper striking copper, a duet with my notes, before they spend eighty dollars on a lobster dinner— thinner
grows my hair, my wallet, your sand and protection, what you and I want. Sun sears scars onto my hands as I press chords, and panic because
I know how it feels to be eroding. They walk over you every day, footprints indenting your soft skin, as cold waves pull at your heartbeat, crashing tides changing your shape, that obsessive sculptor stealing and stealing— steel yourself. They bestow gifts unwanted upon you: tonight it is a towel, stitches
worn and blue, a lipstick stain graces the corner, deep red to hide morning breath, inhale and exhale to calm down, I hammer piano keys to build a song, those wealthy tourists pour concrete to build houses, not for you
when I was a child and you were safe, my Aunt read Frog is Frightened with a quiet quiver to me, on the porch, to you, in the distance between past and future, I am afraid.
Are you?
but for the view, closer to comfort—
Warmest regards, Your Beachgoer
“chonky
by Anita Ghorpadefrog”
“Our Lonely Neighbors” photos and poem by Chris Sheridan
“101”
photo by Ava McKula
cloaked by Nikki Amoachi
the silhouette through the trees— I see him once and twice in cramped bars, then on blinkering streets— next to this blue-tongued wanderer sniffling under songs in an unlit car—I feel him thaw icicles through his eyes above steaming tea then cradle our sorrow in this chin and embrace before they retire in from november
and worn summer months—I love him (subconsciously) figuring concentric circles under college leds then the Paris metro, (unconditionally) deprecatory or esteemed residing, rent free, in this heart—I keep him tied by a lanyard out his pocket or a silver string, he saunters always on the car-side edges of the road, alone among others—and cloaked—, in secret for a year
BloomingBarren then grown now an ancient bud we think we have domesticated a place I used to sit consistent beauty fleeting in a world of chaos so fickle changing so fast the difference a month makes but this has been in motion beyond this month beyond my awareness beyond my view my life the one there where my roots once were the one here where my roots have only just broken the surface of the unyielding soil soil which can sustain but only if I persist and push down, and out, outside myself to be like the tree immovable
entrenched in the beauty in the earth and the earth and beauty clinging to its branches as the roots cling to the land out of sight growth often is in that place where I was a child so looming then familiar now but I see it rarely now I have one all my own no longer out my window a walk away my walk away I looked at your branches with pity sadness now you bloom in power empowered as one who sees the difference a month makes
she’s always had an affinity for the sky so much so that the galaxy has an affinity for her
the sun sees her as a friend apparent in the dusky haze or morning bright matching her glow and effervescence
for the sun taught her instructed her to flicker or flame as she pleases
the stars see her as one of their own sparkling brightly kissing the dark nights with her dazzling mind for the stars taught her instructed her to twinkle unabashedly she is the moons daughter orbiting slowly taking her time yet staying constant
photo by Chris Sheridanfor the moon taught her instructed her to unapologetically take up space the skies adore her and she the skies both teacher and student she walks heaven on earth her orbit may not pull everyone in yet all feel her gravity
i am so hungry for knowledge that i skim through the pages of my books, ravenous for these words, pages slipping through my fingers, black & white blur to gray as connections fire through my mind. a headache after i read, from holding the book so close to my eyes, soaking it all in, the distinct smell of books floods my senses, i read fervently and incessantly, i let the words pour into my soul, watering a brain that is never quenched, constantly flowering, blossoming, and growing. i read words that inspire, i read words that hurt, i read words that help,
i read words that trigger, i read words that empower, and i read words that weaken. sometimes i wonder why i read such sad and angry words, and then i remember how they make me feel something so strongly, that’s why i choose to read them. time passes by in a weird sort of way, and just for a couple of hours, you are transported to another’s universe, and just for a little, you can let your mind forget about your own.
Art by Mary Fleming
Art by Maggie Parham
by Gemma Krautzel
“divine energy”
photo by Nikki Amoachi
I return to the handprint
Left in the concrete
All those years ago. Kneeling, I place my hand down To find my fingers reaching, spreading, Finally outstretched to fill The gap you left behind. Though now I must face myself: Am I ready for this?
There is no way of knowing, And it surely doesn’t feel that way, But I guess I’ll have to try.
As autumn leaves lose their green, I pray you’ll come dance with me. In the winter weather, we take the train, Where folks fall in love but flee at the next stop. In the golden haze of summer, when August’s shadows almost killed July, The crossroads await another lover. Buy a one-way ticket, lie with me, and forget the world, cause all we have is each other. Still rain, sweet summer, Changing Colors, up ahead!
Lover’s leftovers make for lovely changeovers. But don’t fall for summer, it never prevails. You felt like home, we lived in a tightly knitted sweater, But the case turned cold, the sweater became undone by the snowy weather, when I loved you the most.
photo by Nikki Amoachi
We at The Villanovan aim to capture the Villanova student experience week in and week out through dependable, well-researched, and well-written journalism in News, Sports, Culture, and Opinion. Satire is both a fun and important category within the Opinion Section, allowing us to poke fun at ourselves or the University, call attention to problems, ask questions, and/or use humor to prove a point in issues both big and small. Humor and sarcasm are not only amusing; they can be agents of criticism or ways to make people think about
something a little differently, and we hope that our satire achieves those ends in the eyes of our readers.
Jackie Thomas and Bella Irwin, Co-Opinion Editors
At Villanova, some things change all the time. If the forecast in the lovely city of Philadelphia says “sunny skies ahead,” it is time to break out the parka. But there is one constant, one thing that Villanovans can always count on. Every Friday of every week, it seems, the campus is taken over by a multitude of white trucks with blue tent logos. Villanovans look forward to these select days when the heart of Main Campus is blessed by the appearance of Anthony’s Party Rentals.
niently placed cement cylinders and navigate through a sea of partially constructed tents as they move throughout campus. The white trucks alert Villanovans of an upcoming event before word about it can even get out. Before OSI hits send on its “This Week on Campus” email, Anthony’s is already on the scene. Talk about dedication.
Sometimes, I have absolutely no clue what they are setting up for, and to be honest, I am not sure they know either. Nevertheless, these campus heroes set up tents like no tomorrow.
Rain or shine, Anthony’s is always there for Villanovans, setting up tents, tables and chairs at every time of day. I mean, where is the fun in walking to your next class unimpeded? Because of Anthony’s Party Rentals, students get to traverse over poles, dodge gigantic and inconve-
Two weekends ago, Villanovans celebrated Anthony’s Party Rentals Weekend, in which tons of glorious white tents and slightly wet folding tables painted our campus. The spectacular showing has been called by some “Anthony’s Aurora Borealis.” Villanovans are lucky enough to view this occurrence every year. Students bring their families from across the country to spend the weekend and witness the awe-inspiring handiwork that is Anthony’s.
Villanova even holds a football game, as well as an a cappella showcase, a special Mass and various other events to commemorate the occasion. However, I heard that this year, the University falsely dubbed this extravaganza Family Weekend, drawing attention away from the real reason people come from all over to witness this spectacle.
academically, but I am confident that daily encounters with Anthony’s would brighten their days significantly.
Such diligence, commitment and craftsmanship should be rewarded, as I know all Villanovans want to see more of Anthony’s Party Rentals. So, rather than limiting them to their weekly visits, I believe we should incorporate and utilize Anthony’s Party Rentals in more ways.
For example, while the construction at CEER has been progressing, I can guarantee you that if Anthony’s Party Rentals was given the job, they would have finished yesterday. In fact, instead of constructing a new building at all, why not simply erect a giant, wedding-size tent courtesy of Anthony’s. This way Villanova could finish construction in a fraction of the time at a fraction of the cost. Engineers have it tough
It is clear that Anthony’s Party Rentals plays a crucial role in each and every student’s life. I remember walking to Connelly Center with my friend one day and not being able to enter because there was a huge partially constructed tent blocking the way.
As she uttered, “you have got to be kidding me,” I could only imagine that she too was so dumbfounded by the beauty and thoughtfulness before her that she could not believe her eyes. Clearly, Anthony’s Party Rentals thought that every student deserved to see their tents in the morning, so they left one precariously in front of the student center. It is the same when they leave their tents toppled over in front of Café Nova, because who needs a campus view when you can have a giant white tent blocking the window instead. Truly, their generosity and commitment to this University and its students knows no bounds.
Since they are on campus every week, I know many Villanovans are concerned that these changes may be overworking Anthony’s Party Rentals, but do not worry. Though their website says they work “throughout Eastern & Central Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Northern Delaware,” I am pretty sure 99.9% of their business comes from Villanova, because they love us as much as we love them. My fellow Villanovans and I cannot wait for the next time Anthony’s Party Rentals graces our morning or afternoon commute, but fret not, because this wait should not be long at all.
round can be embarrassing, but it is still fun to cheer on Villanova (Sorry, guys, the women run the court this year). It is always a great time to pack the Finn to spread the thousands of sicknesses going around right now and to see an unbearable freshman-year roommate.
Spring is finally here at Villanova, and with it comes all the joys of warmer weather and longer days. The warmer weather brings frat boys’ flip-flops out from their hiding places, and one cannot forget about the beautiful flowers. Sure, students may be congested and get dirty looks in their classes for hacking up a lung, but it is most definitely worth the pain.
Spring weather brings all the creatures out of hiding: mosquitoes, bees and even psychotic squirrels. Everyone knows exactly what I am talking about.
But, do not just think about the transformations outside. What about the excitement of March Madness? Having one’s bracket not pan out after the first
However, we also cannot forget about what we are all here for: our classes. Did someone bomb that midterm paper? Do not worry, there is only one more assignment and about five more weeks to get that grade up. Yeah, that sunshine looks inviting, and all those business kids playing frisbee on the quad looks fun, but what could be more interesting than a three-hour lab on the chemistry of water?
Just keep grinding. It may not be enough to get an A, but do not worry, it is spring. With all that spring sunshine, it just makes sense that every building on campus, including the dorms, is over 90 degrees. While students are lying awake at 3:00 a.m. and sweating profusely,
they should just remember that this is preparation for summer. Do not even bother messing with the thermostat, as it will conveniently switch to air conditioning for the last week of school.
My favorite part of the spring season, however, is registration time. Feeling exhausted? Register for classes and one is sure to feel a boost of anxiety-fueled energy.
Every class one wants to take may be filled up, but who cares? I am sure that a 1-out-of-5-rated professor will be fine. Do not even worry about the MSE classes.
course, I already mentioned the flipflops, which are perfect for spring.
Pennsylvania weather can be unpredictable, but so is that guy who keeps promising to hang out. Improvise, adapt and overcome.
Students will hate no matter which classes they take. Just remember: an advisor may have had suggestions, but they are not the master schedule builder. How about those spring ‘fits? Is it even right if one does not have those Lululemon Align tops and flare pants?
It may be in the 30s in the morning, but since jeans were worn all winter, it is time to pull out the shorts. And, of
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we are one step closer to summer. Students may have been rejected from every internship so far, but at least they can wallow about it in the comfort of their own homes. After all, what is better than seeing Grandma at the 4th of July barbeque asking when her grandchild is going to get a boyfriend? Or how about seeing that weirdo from high school at the grocery store? Best of all is seeing an ex-best friend at a restaurant. Just smile and wave, though I am sure they will not return the pleasantries. Two more months and all of this can be a reality. So, Villanova, the question is: how can one not be excited about all of the joys of spring?
This article makes history as the first article ever written by a baked potato. It has been one sweltering weekend, if I do say so myself. Wait, what was that? It was in the forties this weekend? Like, the forties in celsius? No? Fahrenheit? Well, I was living in an oven.
This past weekend, when it got up to 75 degrees outside, I was living in a room stuck at 80. I could not open the windows because the humidity would have only made it worse. So, naturally, I was bound to get a little cooked. And here I was, thinking my south-facing windows would keep my room a little warmer in the winter. The heat of the sun has paled in contrast to the heating of my floor.
The great thing about ovens is that they can be turned off. Usually, it is just by the press of a button. But for some reason, when we converted the technology of ovens to the technology of heating systems, we forgot that we could turn them on and off. In my dorm – sorry, oven – there is no middle ground. Warm air is pouring into the hallways and room nonstop. I am finding myself missing the loud, pollutant-emitting window box air conditioner that I had in my room last year. I had more control over the destiny of my room’s temperature. But even then, the control all ended when maintenance unplugged it for the season and we realized that the knob on the heater had fallen off and was eternally set to the highest temperature.
Ever wondered where those extra tuition dollars are going? Heating bills. Exclusively heating bills. It appears that the University is trying to break the world record for most money ever spent on heating. I know this because my dorm is not the only one that has been converted into an oven. There
seems to be no reasonable explanation for the University trying to break this record. Nobody, not even a potato, was asking to get stuffed into a dormturned-oven. It is a shame that I have to open my windows when it is in the forties outside. I am letting out all of the air that someone is paying to warm. It simply does not make any sense.
CEER construction site to dump some buckets of dirt all over the floor to simulate sand.
The only other reason I can come up with for this sudden warming is that I have somehow accidentally become a part of a theatrical re-enactment of Hansel and Gretel where I have been shoved in an oven and must escape. If that is the case, I no longer want to be in this re-enactment. I would like to live in peace in a room that is a reasonable temperature.
The only good that I can see from this situation is that my room’s theme has finally been realized. My room is decorated entirely with a beach theme, from the posters to the decorations and even the bedding. Heating the room up to a balmy 80 degrees has finally completed the ambience. All I need now is for someone from the
I never thought I would be sweating this much in the middle of November. Usually by this time of year, people are already talking about snow. In my dorm, I find myself talking about humidity and sunlight as if it were summer time. No wonder I am finding it so difficult to believe that Thanksgiving is only about a week away. It is definitely going to be strange when my room is decorated for Christmas and I must change into a t-shirt because I am boiling. Hopefully, things will be sorted out soon and I will not go from a baked potato to an overcooked potato.
what does it mean to be a woman?
you could say my body looks as though i am a woman, but i don’t know if i feel like one, because the times i’ve been referred to as a woman have made me feel insignificant and insecure: “you have such a pretty smile, you should smile more.”
“why are you arguing with me? you’re supposed to listen.” “calm down, you’re being emotional.”
“i don’t like her: she’s too much.”
“she’s a walking red flag.”
“look what she’s wearing. she’s trying to show off.” and let’s not even begin with the feminist jokes.
how is it possible that us girls are told to feel most like women when we are forced to conform to the male gaze, this archetypal woman that is continuously faced with challenges the patriarchy throws our way, all with a smile plastered on our faces.
and somehow the woman i am, the woman i know i am meant to be, is incompatible with what our toxically patriarchal society urges me to be.
society tells me i should be composed and content, elegant, submissive, and passive, yet i’m anything but.
as a woman:
i’m wild and outspoken, anxious and chaotic, passionate and intense, and i’m angry.
i’m angry about the way society continues to suppress women, regressing back to this stereotype of conformity and complacency, our free will and freedom of choice restricted.
i’ve become accustomed to being objectified and criticized, you call me mad, but i’m just trying to express my voice, in your eyes, Society, we can do no right. you invalidate our struggles by saying, “you live in America, the country of the free. think about all those women around the world who don’t have the same rights as you. you are lucky.” but as a woman in this “free country”
i want to set a precedent of female leadership and empowerment. through my privilege, i want to show the world what we are capable of as women, but we can’t if we are hindered by our own leadership that supposedly supports our ambitions.
people tell me to always be nice and listen, because if i don’t, i’m a bitch. and yeah i’m angry... but can you blame me? Society, we are redefining what it means to be a woman, what it means to be feminine, what it means to be a feminist. and i feel for girls everywhere that will grow into women, believing they don’t have a choice, because you told them so, Society. so i am a woman, but not the type of woman you want me to be. we always should have a choice, of who we are and who we become: our bodies, our choice.
Art by Maggie Parham
photos by Nikki Amoachi
photo by Ava McKula
groupme emojis
chewy chips ahoy space, apparently Lu and Val’s synchronized minds
Dr. Bob, as always
InDesign gradients night classes
Spain, for stealing Nikki the board coming up with titles
benadryl swearing during meetings eating your young standing on chairs
auditorium lighting
