My grandparents died before I was born and, while growing up, I always felt that loss as a tangible pain. As I've gotten older, it has become more and more of a priority to learn about the ancestors I never knew. I don't want stories of them to die out. I want to be able to pass them on to my children, so that they can pass them on to their children. 

So, I made a little film about them and my journey of learning and recording as much about them as I can find. 

​Check it out, and let me know what you think!

​Much love,
​GU

Believe it or not, vulnerable, in my mind, is synonymous to confident. So if that one Demi Lovato song got stuck in your head as soon as you read the title of today's post, you're not wrong.  

​Certain emotions get a really bad rap. If you think about them all carefully (hurt, anger, fear, etc.), they all have one thing in common: vulnerability. Throughout my wild, wacky, horrific, humiliating, life-affirming, heartbreaking, wonderful life experiences, I've found that people are scared to death of being vulnerable. I only know this, not because of what they were like when they were vulnerable, but because of their reactions when I let myself be vulnerable. 

I need another word besides "vulnerable." I'm repeating it too much and it's starting to look weird. 

In fact, I just discovered a major source of the problem I'm describing while I was Googling synonyms. Here are the synonyms Google lists for vulnerable: helpless. Defenseless. Weak.

NO.

NO!

Vulnerability is not a weakness, just like kindness is not a weakness. Rather, it is pure power. Think about all of the times you felt strongly about something but didn't say it out loud. Or express it through tears, or through wild gesticulations and general flailing. Think about all of the times you took a piece of you, judged it, and then stuffed it down the disposal and flipped the switch. If doing the opposite is weakness, is easier, why don't people do that more? Why is bottling up one's emotions basically a freakin' epidemic if that's the strongest, most challenging option?!

News flash: humankind likes instant gratification. Humankind likes simple. Vulnerability is neither.

It takes strength to let your emotions out. It takes strength to accept whatever feelings, emotions, or sensations hit you, and to not be afraid of revealing them to the world. Because here's the crux of the problem. Vulnerability forces you to be 100% authentic. That legitimately scares the crap out of people! To be 100% authentic, to see 100% authenticity in other people. It's weird. 

Does this stem from society's expectation of every individual to fit in? Perhaps. Really, it doesn't matter where it comes from, because that's not going away. All that matters is how you react.

​I find I'm happiest when I'm not judging my emotions or my (admitted penchant for) vulnerability. And when I'm not judging myself, I find it easier to not judge other people, either. It's a win-win. 

Basically, what I'm trying to say is cry more, okay?! I'm sick of feeling like the only person who cries in public!

Much love,
GU

Last month, I turned 21. 

I wouldn't normally think that this was that big of a deal. I mean, age is a just a number and all that. But this year feels significant. Different.

For one thing, I have just one year of college left before I graduate. And I honestly can't wait to do just that. I'm done with the psuedo-summer camp weirdness. I'm done living in the middle of nowhere. And I'm really done with people whose priorities are the exact opposite of mine.

I will miss the classes, though. I really do like class, and discussions, and theses. But I don't like  getting up early for class, so. Silver lining.

Aside from being totally done with the college thing, I moved to Manhattan this summer for my first big-girl, real-life job too! After one day here I was already like, do I have to go back to school in the fall? And now that I'm settled into my internship (my documentary filmmaking internship! I can't believe it myself!), I feel like I could stay here, doing this, forever. 

I guess that's a good thing, since I know what I want to do and where I want to be after graduation. But, man, I'm really dreading the months of school in between. 

I've always known that I would freakin' love being an adult. And I really do. I don't have all of the responsibilities of adulthood yet, but I'm thinking about those things. And, strange as it may seem, I'm looking forward to them.

I don't care if that's weird. I'm discovering that a large part of adulthood is knowing that you're weird, accepting those parts of you, and embracing them as truly the best bits. 

Although my day-to-day life is so unfamiliar now, it doesn't feel strange or uncomfortable. It feels right, and real. I didn't realize how unreal high school and parts of college felt. How inconsequential. Now that I'm doing things that I care about, with people that I care about, in this incredible place that I love from the deepest, most bizarre crevices of my odd little heart, all that crap from the past doesn't matter.   

What's more important than family, passion, and loving who you are and where you are? The answer is literally nothing. Not boys, not selfish jerks, not flabs and jiggles, not cool hair and white sneakers.

With all that said, I'm still having a hard time accepting going back to school in the fall. It was my first love, once. New York City may be the place I want to grow old with, but college definitely helped me become the kind of person who thrives here. I just need to keep reminding myself of that, I think. Maybe I only think that I'm ready to move on, but there are a couple of lessons I have left to learn. Yeah, I like that. Yeah.

Much love,
​GU 

You know how some people really care about the environment? So they recycle, and they share Facebook articles about climate change denial, and make their own deodorant or something. I'm sort of like this. But not for the environment, or any other such worthy cause. I'm an advocate for cutting people out of your life. 

To me, cutting people out of your life is as refreshing and frequent as spring cleaning. It's like digging through your closet, finding an ugly shirt that you never wore which probably still has the tags on it and was buried under your childhood snow pants, and thinking, "Does this spark joy?!" and then unceremoniously throwing it out. (I tried reading that famous self-help book about cleaning and sparking joy but nothing really stuck except for the phrase "spark joy" which sparks joy in me whenever I use it.)

However, people cannot be thrown out in the same manner as old, useless, or unwanted belongings. Usually, you still have to see them, and maybe even interact with them. This is one of the downsides of cutting people out of your life.

Listen. I get it. It is possible that I write people off too quickly. This is something that I have considered. I can be a bit cold when I feel like someone has sacrificed something I believe in for something that I don't believe in. But is this not why people have values in the first place? So that they can live up to them? Stand up for them? 

That's what I think, anyway. I'd much rather be lonely for a little while than look the other way when someone has done something wrong. 

If someone is bringing hurt, pain, and general weirdness to your life instead of support, understanding, and  goodnatured wackiness, you have Girl Unaffiliated's complete permission, in writing, to cut them off without feeling bad.

Take care of yourselves, people. Sometimes that means being by yourself for a second. Don't be scared. It has basically been scientifically proven that learning to be your own BFF is way more important than staying in a crappy friendship or relationship that has ceased serving you as a spiritual, magical human being. 

Believe me, I know how hard it is. (Am I being preachy? Ugh.) All wounds will heal, as long as you stop letting bitches pour salt into them.

Listen to this fabulously eclectic and positivity-affirming thirty-minute playlist here!

1.You Keep Me Hangin' On - The Supremes This song brings up a potential issue in ending friendships or relationships-- as soon as people don't have you in their lives anymore is when they realize just how badly they still want you around. Of course, depending on the situation, this doesn't feel as nice as you might think it would. To me, wanting what you can't have is not cute. 

Why do you keep coming around playing with my heart?
Why don't you get out of my life and let me make a new start
​Let me get over you the way you've gotten over me

2.Keep It To Yourself - Kacey Musgraves One of my all-time favorite singers, Kacey has no shortage of songs to make you simultaneously laugh and tear up a little bit. (I think I need that emoji.)

You heard from your friends
That I'm doing okay
And you're thinking that maybe you made a mistake
And you want me to know
But I don't want to know
How you're feeling

3. Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac Sometimes it feels like losing someone is worse than losing yourself. It's not.

Loving you 
Isn't the right thing to do
How can I ever change things
That I feel

4. Breakin' Up - Rilo Kiley A gentle yet pop-y reminder that the earth stills turns, even when something crappy happens (unless of course the crappy thing that happened is that the earth stopped turning).

It's not as if New York City
Burnt down to the ground
Once you drove away
It's not as if the sun won't shine
When clouds up above
Wash the blues away

5. These Boots Are Made For Walking - Nancy Sinatra This song is kind of silly but it really pumps me up when I need that extra "boss bitch who doesn't care what anyone thinks" jolt, which is, like, all the time. 

​You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'
You keep losing when you ought not bet
You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'
What's right is right but you ain't been right yet
These boots are made for walking
And that's just what they'll do

6. I Feel Better - Frightened Rabbit Unfortunately, this is exactly how healing from bullshit works. It sucks, and then you're great! And then it sucks again. And then it's the worst thing ever. But then you're feeling okay. And then you're feeling a little better than okay. And then you're fan-frickin-tastic!

I feel better and better and worse and then better
Than ever, than ever, than ever
I feel much better and better and worse and then better
Than ever, than ever, than ever, than ever

7. Are You Sure - Kacey Musgraves featuring Willie Nelson I normally don't double-up artists in these playlists, but Kacey is just that good. Also, this is actually a Willie Nelson song that they reworked to cover together. And man, this is truly one of my lifetime favorite songs. Listening to it feels like walking through a film, sepia-toned and heart wrenching and soft and slow.

Look around you
Look down the bar from you
At the lonely faces you see
Are you sure that this is where you want to be?

These are your friends
But are they real friends
Do they love you as much as me?
Are you sure that this is where you want to be?

8. Vice - Miranda Lambert For some reason this is the song that I listen to on constant repeat when I have an essay to write for class. Why? I don't know, but I've done pretty damn well on every essay I wrote while listening to it so it's possible that I've really discovered something here!

Maybe I'm addicted to goodbyes

Another vice, another town
Where my past can't run me down
Another life, another call
Another bed I shouldn't crawl out of
At 7 AM with shoes in my hand
Said I wouldn't do it, but I did it again
And I know I'll be gone tomorrow night
Another vice

9. Take A Bow - Rihanna This song brings back some serious summer in the 2000s realness. Thank you, Rihanna. You should take a bow. 

Don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not
Baby when I know you're only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show
You really had me goin'
But now it's time to go
Curtains finally closing

10. Smile - Lily Allen I love this song because it sounds so happy and you're bopping along to it and then you realize that it's smiling at someone's misfortune. And then you think about it for a second, maybe feel guilty, but ultimately shrug your shoulders and keep jammin' because, yeah, I do smile when I see you cry! Hah! 

At first when I see you cry
It makes me smile
Yeah, it makes me smile
At first I feel bad for a while
But then I just smile
I go ahead and smile

11. Stop Wondering - April Smith and the Great Picture Show Sometimes after someone betrays you or screws you over or hurts you it helps to be petty for a little while. You'll never get judgment from me on that, for sure. Throw out some psychological f-yous, like this song, even. Don't be shy! Go ahead-- I'll look the other way.

Do you ever wonder if I'm thinking of you
When I wake in the morning and the day is new?
If you ever wonder if I'm thinking of you
Well, I'm not, so you can stop wondering

I've got better things to do
Than sit around thinking about you
And hanging on to every little word that you said

Again, the entire playlist can be found here! 

Happy trimming the (toxic, negative, rude) fat.
GU

Where in the world have I been?! I have missed you, two-dimensional, impersonal, immobile, unresponsive computer page. 

Well, I've been quite busy. And when I haven't been busy, I've been thinking about posting and then just not doing that. 

Anyway. I adapted a post from a couple of months ago - this one, to be exact - into an essay film for a documentary class I'm taking. I'm really proud of it, even though I spelled "electrocution" wrong in the credits (I pointed this out beforehand for the purposes of a shameless defense mechanism). I think my professor liked it, but one of my fellow classmates said, "I hope you take this as the compliment I intend it to be. That was weird." 

Enjoy hearing what my voice sounds like! 

Happy watching.
​GU

Defend Public Education! On March 4, we need YOU to join students, teachers, parents and community members across New York State as we come together for the People’s March for Education Justice. Black, Brown, immigrant, refugee, low-income, LGBTQIA students, English Language Learners, homeless students and students with special needs are all facing a direct threat from our federal government and from Governor Cuomo.  We are marching to protect our youth and demand the New York Legislature do the same. March with us. Follow the hashtag #March4EducationNY for updates!  (http://www.aqeny.org/march/)

What is the People's March for Education Justice about?
 
Significant changes are coming to this nation's public education system under the new administration, and students, teachers, parents, and community members everywhere are already feeling the negative effects.

The exceptionally unqualified Betsy DeVos was nominated and confirmed as Education Secretary in an unprecedented tiebreaker vote. Representative Thomas Massie introduced a brief and inexplicable bill which reads, in its entireity, "The Department of Education shall terminate on December 31, 2018." And just this past Wednesday, the president rescinded protections for transgender students that had allowed them to use bathrooms that correspond to their gender identity. (Articles elaborating on all three of these disastrous measures forthcoming.)

Whether or not these changes will be enforced or are just examples of political posturing, the thought of their outcomes is catalyzing advocates of equality and opportuntiy in public education throughout the United States to fight back.

One major response is the People's March for Education Justice, happening all over New York on March 4, 2017. The march is being herladed by The Alliance for Quality Education, a New York based coalition dedicated to ensuring high qualityeducation to all students regardless of location within this highly socioeconomically diverse state. Through a combination of grassroots organization and legislative skill, the AQE intends to hold New York state government fast to its promises for public education, while also honoring all of the incredible strides made in public schools every day.
 
Why should I march? What would I be marching for?
 
The AQE has developed a platform comprising several demands, the purpose of which is to ensure racial justice in public education, fully funded public schools, access to higher education, and positive school climates for all. The following list is a thorough description of each demand as well as how everyone, not just students or children, would be affected.

The People's March for Education Justice demands:

• Full and fair funding for all public schools from preschool through college. Systemic racism is being perpetuated through the current system, in which school funding is based on zip codes and home values. Furthermore, public school districts desperate for funding are pitted against each other, as they must compete for with each other for money. With increased funding, these schools could reduce class sizes as well as foster the growth of art, music, sports, and advanced academics programs. In addition, it is no secret that getting a higher education is an expensive, yet primarily necessary, endeavor. Funding public college would help alleviate crippling student loans and make higher education a possiblity for all students.    
• An end to the school to prison pipeline. Discriminatory school policing is rampant in this country, and will only increase with the president's call for more "law and order," "stop and frisk," and immigration raids in communities of color. Every student deserves a positive school climate that values them as an individual, where they can feel safe and supported. It is significant to this cause that we decriminalize students both in and out of school.
• Increased access to early care and learning opportunities for babies and toddlers. The cost of quality early care has risen in recent years to impossibly exboritant values. However, it is also essential to preparing children for school and ensuring family economic security.  
• An end to the state's over-reliance on high-stakes testing. There is an epidemic spreading throughout public schools of teachers being forced to "teach to the test." With too much emphasis on high-stakes testing, schools and teachers are shamed and students are negatively impacted. From the AQE website, "Education practices should be built around teaching and learning, not testing and punishing."
• Protection for public education, not school privatization. Education Secretary Betsy DeVos is infamous for pushing charter schools on Detroit, Michigan, which resulted on test scores lower than the state's average. With the new administration's support of charter schools, tax credits, and vouchers, this outcome is a threat to New York's students.
• The implementation of a culturally responsive curriculum. From AQE, "Culturally Responsive Education (CRE) is a method of engaging, rigorous education that holds high academic expectations for all students  is grounded in students' experiences and interests; cultivates positive academic, racial and cultural identities; develops students' ability to communiate and connect across cultures; builds student leadership as agents of social changel and inspires students to fall in love with learning."
• Increased supports for students in poverty. 42% of children in New York state are living in low-income households; high-poverty, high-minority school districts have significantly less funding than more prosperous schools. It is crucial that there are sufficient safety nets in place for these families, that community schools are invested in, to prevent the vicious cycle of poverty.
• Increased supports for immigrant students and English Language Learners. This is a dual goal, intending to both preserve students' native languages and cultures while providing them the support needed to succeed in English-speaking schools. This is also a call for translators to help students' non-English speaking parents become involved in their school careers.
• Protection for the Education Rights of Students with Disabilities. New York state desperately needs to improve its education programs and opportunities for students with disabilities as well as increase parent engagement. This includes creating systems to train teachers and develop strategies and methods for teaching students who struggle with the curriculum. The utilization of alternative methods in teaching and mediation (dispute resolution) would be significant steps towards this goal.

           
What can I do if I can't make it to the march?
 
If you can't make it to the march, there are a plethora of local action steps you can take to tell your local representatives how the constituents feel about public education. Though writing letters is an effective method, calling your local representative and showing up at town meetings and other local government events are the most powerful ways of making sure your voice is heard. This Friday, March 3, the 100 Days Initiative will be holding a phone bank event, making calls to Representative John Faso to oppose a bill that would allow conceal-carry in all fifty states, a bill that would inevitably affect our schools. Check the Facebook page (facebook.com/100daysteam) to see the script and tell us you made the call!

​The 100 Days Initiative is also hosting a de-brief on March 8 at Bard College's Weis Cinema starting at 1:30. Together with faculty, students, and community members, the de-brief will be an opportunity for those who attended the march as well as those who didn't to organize and brainstorm solutions to the issues raised by the march's coordinators. 

Yes, this is something different! The 100 Days Initiative is a creative, collaborative, and civic action-minded project out of Bard College, comprising not just students but interested community members and partner organizations as well. Through local action and multimedia resources, the collective efforts of working groups and media fellows will disseminate factual information, as well as provide opportunities for civic action on a regular basis.

And guess what? I'm one of those media fellows! For the next few months, regular Girl Unaffiliated content will be a bit more rare as I write and work as a media fellow for the 100 Days Initiative, but worry not: I will post my writing here as well as on the 100 Days website!

Though my posts will be slightly more political, the Girl Unaffiliated voice all three of you, my devoted followers, have come to know and love will still be as present and angsty as ever. So sit back, buckle in your seat belts, and enjoy the wild ride! (However, if you're not a ride-person and kind of scared of the drops and twists and stuff, all of my other stuff is still totally available-- just click on the pink Categories titles on the right that AREN'T called "100 Days Initiative.")

​There are few advocates for the education of children more adored and prevalent than Fred Rogers, the inimitable host of public television’s Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Built on the educational principles of creative play and emotional learning, Rogers’ gentle thoughtfulness had, and has, great impact on the children as well as the adults who watched his program.

The sight of Rogers in his trademark cardigan sweater and sneakers is a familiar one to many. But he has a less familiar side as well. The lesser-known aspect of his long career in educational activism wore a suit instead of his typical garb, and sat in a courtroom addressing a judge rather than in his home addressing the scores of children who made up his audience—his neighborhood.

Rogers truly believed that everyone was a member of his neighborhood, his community. And as such, he fought for the rights of his community. Most conspicuously, he dedicated his time to public television, ensuring that all children had the opportunity to learn from his calm and loving depiction of the “inner drama of childhood.” In fact, he only started his own show as a response to being disappointed with the violence and superficiality shown on television screens. Rogers saw a need in television, and rather than waiting for someone else to fill that void, he created the award-winning Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Through these seemingly small, indirect acts of rebellion, Rogers demonstrated his political efficacy as well as that of all individuals.

But Rogers took it a step further when the Public Broadcasting Network’s government funding was being threatened. Unwilling to let financial cuts affect the education and futures of children, he appeared before the United States Senate Subcommittee on Communications in 1969 to fight for funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. His goal seemed impossible, but it did not deter him.

What follows is one of the greatest testimonies for education ever brought before the Senate. In his usual manner, full of passion, calm logic, and kind-heartedness, Rogers swayed the burly chairman of the subcommittee, John O. Pastore—who had never seen Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood--to grant PBS increased funding, all in only six minutes.

Political efficacy is the belief in one’s influence in governmental affairs. Community members who are not active members in political matters often cite a lack of political efficacy as the reason why they do not vote, read the news, or go to municipal government meetings. A feeling of hopelessness has spread across the United States like a plague, making individuals believe that their voices are not being heard. Therefore, many people do not bother trying to express their opinions or fight for what they believe in.

Rogers provides a striking demonstration in opposition to this pervading feeling of civil inefficacy. In just six minutes, in a room of people who didn’t believe in him, Rogers not only secured funding for public television, he also increased the Senate appropriation from six million dollars to twenty-two million dollars. And, in watching the clip, it is clear that he made a believer out of Senator Pastore, who mocked Rogers at the beginning of his speech and was often described as “impatient” during his term.

​Rogers taught many lessons in the thirty-three years that Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood aired on television. But this particular one, to believe in the power of your own political efficacy, is arguably one of the most important, one that he had actually been saying, albeit in a different way, at the end of each of his programs for his entire career: “You've made this day a special day, by just your being you. There's no person in the whole world like you, and I like you, just the way you are.”
                                                                                                               

A warning before I begin: I’m probably freaking out too much.
 
I’ve always been a little too concerned with my future. A little too anxious to be a grown-up, with a grown-up job and a grown-up apartment. I’ve always wanted to have my own little routine, to make dinner in my own little kitchen, to vacuum my own little hardwood floors. As I got older, I realized that I would actually need to pay for all of these things, in some way or another. Still, even as that reality sinks in a little more with every year, I look forward to complete independence, to adult responsibility, to organizing bills and accounts and ducks into a row.
 
Is that weird?
 
Anyway, as I already mentioned, the reality of life outside of my parent’s house, outside of my college dormitory, is starting to really sink in. I’m realizing how little I know and understand about the things that I am going to have to do all by myself one day. Like, what is a mortgage? How about escrow? What the heck is that? It’s definitely not a variation of escarole. I already figured that one out on my own.
 
There’s already a lot of uncertainty, and I’m only twenty years old. In a year and a half, I’ll have graduated college, with a liberal arts degree in writing. I know what I want to do with that, but it’s no secret that becoming a successful television writer/novelist is exceptionally challenging.
 
And I feel like “I’m only twenty years old” isn’t even an excuse anymore. There are so many incredible youths out there nowadays, making waves. It’s really putting on the pressure.
 
Whenever I read about someone who I go to school with getting published, I have a moment of pride for my super cool peers, and then a (longer) moment of petty envy. I’ll probably do some online stalking to determine if they’re older or younger than me. If they’re older, all pettiness will disintegrate for hope: I have time! If they’re younger, well, let’s just say I’ll probably go on a crazed LinkedIn connection-making spree (which of course isn’t as productive as actually sending my work out to publishers).
 
Of course, there’s also the age-old question, often spoken or thought with a great tremor—is this my peak? What if I just become less talented, less marketable, less everything after this point?  
 
Imagine me with a ruler and a piece of graph paper. Slowly, but steadily, a perfectly straight line edges up, up, up, but as soon as the pencil hits my twentieth year on the x-axis, the ruler flips 180 degrees to form a lopsided triangle. There it is. My peak. But even with the visual, it’s not about a peak, or having hit my peak, or not having hit my peak yet. It’s not about that at all.
 
It’s about being good enough. Every point on that line, I would have questioned if I were good enough. I would hold the graph paper out in front of my eyes so I could see the whole picture at once, and my eyes would find the highest point, the peak, and I would still think, “Was I good enough, there? At my peak?”
 
How do I overcome this? I know that I must. But that’s as far as I’ve gotten.
 
I know that, once I overcome this, I will send my work out to publishers, for the task will no longer seem quite as daunting. I will write cover letters and do internship after internship. I will introduce myself to the most powerful person in the room as though I deserve to shake her hand. I will never question if I belong somewhere. I will enter through a threshold, unsure of what lies beyond it, and yet still think that I belong there. I will see myself through the eyes of the people who love me the most, instead of the people who appreciate me the least.
 
When I used to envision myself as an adult, puttering about my charmingly eclectic and historic antebellum apartment, these weren’t the concerns I thought I’d have. Actually, the fantasy never involved any worries or problems. That’s what makes it a fantasy, I guess.
 
So, yeah, I’m freaking out. In my worst moments, I’m Girl Unpublished. Girl Unsuccessful. Girl Undeserving. But I’m working on it. I’m working on stopping the ruler from turning 180 degrees. I’m working on not getting in the way of that straight line as it goes higher and higher.
 
Because, really, it’s not anyone else making me feel not good enough. As unbelievable as it sounds to even me, especially me, I choose to feel that way (to an extent—I don’t want to feel not good enough, but I’m the only person who can control feeling that way or not). It’s just like how the most arrogant person in the world chooses to feel like he’s the best, and it’s definitely not because the rest of the world thinks he’s the best (I’m alluding to a certain public figure here).
 
Well, it’s true sometimes that other people help to make you feel really crappy, like those people who get published at the ripe old age of thirteen, or even the people you love when they do something disappointing. It totally sucks. But it doesn’t have to mean anything about you personally. It’s only as significant as the value you give it. Do with that what you will. I’ll just keep repeating it over and over in my head till I really believe it.
 
Happy grinding.
GU

I have a bit of an unpopular opinion: I hate chess.

It's boring. It's limiting. I don't want to think a thousand moves ahead when I can barely keep track of what all the little guys even do. I would much rather play checkers. Actually, I would much rather play Clue. That game, and all the strategy and intrigue involved, is way more interesting than chess.

A lot of people will probably disagree with me here. I wish I loved chess, I really do. It's just one of those things that I can't get into no matter how many times someone tries to explain it to me. All I ever grasp is that the Queen can do whatever she wants and then I get stuck on thinking how great of an idea that is and the rest just goes in one ear and out the other. 

It's strange because, for a year and a half of my college career, I wanted to be an Economics major. In fact, I completed all of the requirements. But once there were no Game Theory classes left for me to take, the whole field didn't seem as interesting to me anymore, and I decided not to declare that major anymore, despite having spent a lot of time going through the motions in that department. (Also, imagine me as an Economics major. Like, okay. I wasn't fooling anybody.)

Anyway, that whole tangent was just to say that I really like Game Theory. I think it's cool and interesting as heck. So then why don't I love chess?

Whatever. I am who I am. 

There is one thing I like about chess, however, and that is the crazy German words they used to describe certain moves. But of course, I don't use them to describe my chess strategies, but instead the actual decisions I make on the daily. I like them for the same reason that I like Game Theory: you can apply them to any and all choices you make, not just where you're going to move your horse knight and your bobblehead front guy. 

So this Wednesday, I'm giving you, the reader, two totally fabulous words of German origin that will come in handy 1) if you're a chessmaster and 2) if you're a normal person who, like, makes decisions throughout the day like everyone else (even small decisions, like whether to hit snooze again or finally get out of bed).

So for the first one, we have ZUGZWANG. I don't know how to pronounce it so don't bother asking me. Just say it with confidence and no one will question you, even if it's totally wrong.

Anyway, zugzwang is the name for a  situation in which any move available to you (any choice, any decision) is unfavorable. It's sort of like a lose-lose situation. Perhaps an example would help illuminate the meaning of this word. Imagine this: it's eight in the morning. You have class at ten in the morning. You can either get up, get ready, and then go to class, but then you will be tired and, well, end up in probably a boring class. Your other option would be to sleep in, which is very nice indeed, but you would either not have time to get ready for your class or miss the class altogether. Either way, you're not as satisfied as if at ten past eight in the morning your professor emailed you that class was cancelled that morning and you could sleep in guilt-free.

​So, yeah. That's basically zugzwang. 

And then, there's ZWISCHENZUG! A word as unpredictable as the situations it describes. Basically, a zwischenzug is when you do pretty much the opposite of what was expected of you. 

So, in a classic zwischenzug move, instead of continuing to talk, I'm just going to end the post here!

Happy strategizing.
GU

The Weekly Playlist is going to be a little different this week. For one thing, I didn't pick any of the songs. For another thing, I outsourced that job to random strange boys on Tinder.

I recently decided that Tinder isn;t really for me. But at the same time, it's sort of an amazing study of human behavior, and, more than that, it's an easy way for a shy person to get perspectives from people you would've never met otherwise. 

With these benefits of Tinder in mind, I decided a couple of days ago that I'd try to use Tinder for another purpose than finding "the one." (I find it hilarious that I thought maybe it could happen. I guess maybe it could. I'm too young to be thinking like this. What is wrong with me.)

In my bio (a feature that anyone Tinder-ing can get to from my pictures), I wrote "Tell me your favorite song-- I'll listen to it and tell you what I think!" I expected maybe a couple responses over the next few months. Instead, I immediately got a message containing a song title and the  name of an artist that I didn't recognize.

You guys. It worked.

I got a freaking ton of responses. To be honest, I haven't listened to them all, and I certainly haven't provided my feedback on them all. I'm only human, okay?

I'm a little overwhelmed by how many straight boys in my area jumped on the opportunity to tell me their favorite song. (I also get a lot of Tinder boys telling me that they read and liked some of my blog, so if you're reading this and we also matched on Tinder-- hi. This is a little awkward, huh?)    
​
Without further ado, here's some of the songs that were recommended to me by Tinder boys (and yet it's still twice the size of my usual playlists). I recommend listening to this playlist while you swipe left, right, or chat up some strangers. 

The entire playlist can be found in its hour-long glory here.

1. It’s a Wonderful Life – Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution

Once again I wake up alone on the wrong side of my bed
And once again you begin your dancing nakedly on the right side of my head
It's for a lack of better words that I can hardly speak my soul
And I'm feeling what I'm feeling when I'm feeling when it's time to lose control, my love

2. The Waiting – Angel Olsen

Here you come along
I take a breath and remind myself that I too can be strong
Thought I was cool, turns out I'm a fool
Clearly you've proved me wrong

3. Life Itself – Glass Animal

Daddy was dumb, said that I'd be something special
Brought me up tough but I was a gentle human
Said that he loved each of my two million freckles
When I grew up, I was gonna be a superstar

4. The Pod – Hum

Morning scatters in and I am steady like a drug feeling out this one
She wakes up smashed as hell and steadies her ass against the rail
And bends before the pounding rain
She had the widest bright ideas all along about my love

5. Left And Leaving – The Weakerthans

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
Through buildings gone missing like teeth
The sidewalks are watching me think about you
Sparkled with broken glass
I'm back with scars to show
Back with the streets I know

6. Kinetic – Osker

Through the strength of your arms, I realized I was off the mark
All I really wanted was a pair of interested ears
I learned that for every pause, I was almost guaranteed more time to speak
It's always the selfish who say that life is way too short

7. Day By Day – Dirty Heads

All hyped up, ready to begin
Styrofoam emcees keep crumbling
Dirty Heads stay tight couldn't loosen with a wrench
These rivers run deep, Mariano trench

8. Scar Tissue – Red Hot Chili Peppers

Push me up against the wall
Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra
Fallin' all over myself
To lick your heart and taste your health 'cause
With the bird I'll share this lonely view

9. I’m Serious, I’m Sorry – Jeff Rosenstock

I wanted to tell you I know how it feels when
The people you love just start disappearing
Ashamed that you took their presence for granted
But I didn't want to seem condescending

10. Weightless – Marconi Union

This is an instrumental song, don't worry about it though 
I'm still writing out my own little lyrics
So that the post looks more complete and thorough

11. Simplicity Demand – Mercernary

You have to believe me
Surrender completely
I want you to be near
I'm all alone here
Feeling fragile and confused
But your absence will make me choose
And the tailors of time have
Washed away my friend

12. Learning to Fly – Pink Floyd

Ice is forming on the lips of my wings
Unheeded warnings I thought I thought of everything
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone

13. Within Destruction – As I Lay Dying

If music is a mirror revealing
The depths of my heart
Then I will write the darkest song
For without forgiveness 
My soul is lost

Once again, all of the tracks (in order) can be found and listened to here.

Happy listening.
​GU

​Honestly, this Wednesday Word is just… cute. It doesn't have a terribly interesting history or etymology. It comes from the Latin ericius, which literally means "hedgehog." Period. End of sentence.

Just kidding, of course there's more to it than that!

If you didn't take Latin for six years like your friendly neighborhood Girl Unaffiliated, you might not know that the ancient Romans were simultaneously lovers of war as well as lovers of the figurative use of animals in war strategy.

So how do hedgehogs, the lovable cuddlers that they are, relate to war? Well, quite evidently, hedgehogs are covered in spikes. Sure, they’re more like the soft bristles of a toothbrush, but they’re still echinated (another fun word meaning prickly with stiff spines). If you’re a bit trigger happy as several leaders of the Roman Empire were, you might have enough of an imagination to turn the spikes of a hedgehog into a built-in armor of spears, which sounds like a pretty effective way to synthesize defense and offense.

I’m not much of a war person. By that I mean I am one hundred percent against it, morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, animally, minerally. For some reason, however, the battles and conquests of Rome feel more like fantasy fiction than something that really happened to real people in real life. Is that wrong? Oh well, it’s something.

The fable-like animal metaphors probably influence that a little.

Anyway, back to the hedgehogs. Using the hedgehog’s physical characteristics as a reference, the Romans developed a device equipped with spines. This weapon was used to both repel and slow down attackers. I mean, come on. Would you want to approach someone bearing what is basically a spiked javelin?   

In a fairly uncreative move, the Romans called this device an ericius as well. I wonder if there were any situations on the battlefield in which a soldier was referring to a hedgehog and not the weapon and a hilariously classic mix-up ensued.   

Of course, there aren’t any clear images of the ericius, and only vague descriptions of it. But this is not the only example of the hedgehog in allegorical history. And because I’m self-serving and this is my blog, damn it, I’m going to tell you about my favorite: the hedgehog’s dilemma.

I actually learned about this at my very first class at college. It was a class that all freshmen who go to my school have to take, and typically complain about. But I got an incredible professor (who—and this is 100% true—was stolen from us by Harvard University literally after my class with her ended).

She never really told us why she started our class off with the hedgehog’s dilemma. The course itself was essentially an introduction to a number of significant texts and minds (Kant, Wollstonecraft, Nietzsche, other college party name-drop worthy philosophers, writers, thinkers) and to this day I can’t connect the hedgehog’s dilemma with the curriculum. But let’s see what we think after talking about it for a bit.

The hedgehog’s dilemma (often called the porcupine dilemma) is a metaphor attempting to describe the universal challenges of human intimacy. During times of cold weather, hedgehogs must burrow together (somewhat like penguins) to share heat. However, the sharp edges of their spines can’t help but puncture and hurt each other, making them remain apart. How do the sweet hedgehogs reconcile this? How do they stay warm without hurting each other?

For reasons they cannot change, hedgehogs can’t be as close and intimate as they want to be. So they have to keep just as much distance as they can between themselves.

The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, in Parerga und Paralipomena, first used this dilemma to describe the state of the individual in relation to other individuals within a society. Here’s an excerpt from the text: “…the need of society drives the human porcupines together, only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature. The moderate distance which they at last discover to be the only tolerable condition of intercourse, is the code of politeness and fine manners; and those who transgress it are roughly told—in the English phrase—to keep their distance.”

A note about Schopenhauer that might influence how you feel about the hedgehog/porcupine dilemma: not only was he a massive pessimist, there is no evidence from his life that he had any virtues except for kindness toward animals and had a generally sour countenance.

It’s almost like an unspoken arrangement between members of the humankind. To keep ourselves from being pricked, and to keep from pricking those we care about, we try to maintain as much independence as we possibly can. And if you’re someone who is already a little too hot, you stay away to avoid further issues.

Sigmund Freud adopted the allegory from Schopenhauer, giving it international attention and inserting it into the field of psychology. In fact, when Freud visited the United States in 1919, he gave his reasoning for the trip as follows:  “I am going to the USA to catch sight of a wild porcupine and to give some lectures.” (I find this anecdote to be adorable.)

I think I understand now why my dear professor told us this, in our very first class, in our very first year of school. For many of us, it was the first time that we would be interacting with people from a different place, a different perspective. It was inevitable that each student would bristle nerves, and get his or her nerves bristled in the next four years we spent together, in this tiny liberal arts school in the middle of nowhere.

I know that I, personally, have had my nerves bristled. I sure as hell have bristled a lot of nerves in the past two and a half years (and probably every year of my existence before then).

​Maybe the hedgehog dilemma isn’t just an interesting way to think about personal relationships. Maybe it’s actually a fable with a moral, a lesson to be learned. I’m still figuring out how to catch sight of my own wild porcupine. I think I’m getting warmer.
 
Happy prickling.
GU    

As everyone already knows by now and doesn’t need me to tell them, it’s finally, finally 2017. Not only is it 2017, it’s the New Year. We are officially on the cusp of the past and the future, in that short window in which everyone remembers what happened the past year and wants, desperately, to move past it—the moment before nostalgia sets in. It’s the time of new beginnings, renewed hope, and uncharacteristic motivation. 

Okay, I get it, time is a construct and starting over can really happen at any time, not just the time that was premeditated by ancient calendar-makers whose whims somehow determined the rise and fall of ourselves. But, in spite of that little technicality, the New Year can still be symbolic. It can still be a proper noun, capitals and all, to those of us who want it to be.

And you know what? I want it to be. I don’t care that it’s a cliché, that it’s something stand-up comedians make fun of in their earlier routines (and I do mean earlier routines as in not as good, more obvious routines; I don’t care who I offend).

However, I don’t buy into the whole “new year, new me” sentiment. The phrase has its uses, and I do think it can be hilarious as a non sequitur. It’s just not useful as a mantra. I like the underlying idea, that there is some change within us that coincides with a more universal beginning, felt by everyone in some way to some extent.

But I don’t think it has to be as drastic as a whole “new me.” There is nothing wrong with the old me. The only thing that the old me needed to work on was how she saw herself.

So this year, instead of believing that I need to change completely for this trip around the sun to be a good one (or at least a better one than the last year-not-to-be-named), the only thing I’m changing about myself? I’m getting a new set of teeth.

I am no longer surviving by the skin of my teeth. I will fight tooth (and nail) for the respect I deserve. And I’m finally putting some teeth into my own value. And if you don’t like it, I’ll bare my new, strong, shiny chompers at you till you step off. New year? New teeth.

If that sets your teeth on edge, you better get a mouth guard, because I’m biting off just as much as I can chew in 2017, and, if you want to eat with me, you’re gonna have to catch up. 

To all of the haters, I have but one thing to say: New year, who dis?
​
Happy biting.
GU

Please excuse this brief interruption of your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an important message from the Trump Administration.

​Happy being nasty.
​GU

It’s probably been a pretty hard year for everybody. I sort of feel bad for the people who’ve actually had a good year, because now it’s like they can’t even talk about it or everyone’s just going to think they’re bragging.

​No matter what your year has been like, we can’t skip the holidays just this once, so we might as well surrender ourselves to holiday spirit and try to end this shitshow of a year on a high note.  
 
Try to get back into the holiday spirit here.
 
1.Green Trees Red Hearts – Nat Jay Sure, time is just a human construct, and the holiday season/the new year don’t really mean anything—by that I mean, we don’t really need to wait till the new year to “start over” or work on those resolutions. But I, for one, need a little holiday symbolism to get motivated after the shitshow of a year I’ve had, so I’m all about 2017 being a new start.
 
I’ve had some trouble fitting in
But I’ve been a stand up, stand up citizen
Thank god for green trees and red hearts
New years and new starts
 
2.Yule Shoot Your Eye Out – Fall Out Boy Gotta love a Christmas song that totally subverts the conventional spirit of the holiday. Generosity? Blah. Love? Meh. Gratitude? Whatever.   
 
Don’t come home for Christmas
You’re the last thing I want to see
Underneath the tree
Merry Christmas, I could care less
 
3.Present Without A Bow – Kacey Musgraves I really like the analogy “me without you is like a present without a bow” because it implies that even without her boyfriend or whatever, the narrator is still a goddamn present. The bow is totally unnecessary. It’s just a superfluous little goodie. That’s how we should all be thinking of dumb boys, in my humble opinion. 
 
The holiday’s just another day that’s cold
Standing all alone under the mistletoe
I don’t feel the cheer without you here
There’s no red and white stripes on a candy cane
Silent Night just wouldn’t sound the same
Where’d the magic go?
All I know is me without you is like a present without a bow
 
4.Christmas in Harlem – Kanye West, Prince Cy Hi, Teyana Taylor I have this weird intuition that this song is going to become to next “Silver Bells.” I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling I have.
 
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night
Now we all livin’ the good life
Yeah, though it’s forty below the wind chill
And we wipin’ snow up off the windshield
It’s still, wonderful night to be alive, baby
 
5.Throw Another Log (On The Fire) – Chic Gamine All of these alone-for-Christmas songs are so much more relatable than the typical sleigh ride with your sweetheart stuff.
 
I hear the reindeers’ footsteps on the roof
And maybe it’s not real or maybe it’s proof
That I’m going crazy in this empty home
Sitting here waiting under the mistletoe
 
6.Christmas Must Be Tonight – Bahamas I think is kind of a Jesus song? I don’t know. Whatever. I like the way it sounds and the word Christmas is in the title so it fits.
 
Come down to the manger, see the little stranger
Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the prince of peace
The wheels start turning, torches start burning
And the whole wise men journey from the east
 
7.All My Christmases – Jillian Edwards This song reminds me of all the Hallmark and Lifetime romance Christmas movies that I freaking love. I know—they’re really cheesy. But I love them and I am who I am and I like this corny song, too, and I don’t care what you think of me.
 
And now every Christmas from now on I’ll be here, by your side
And now every day in between and for all of our lives
I’ll be waiting under the mistletoe wanting a kiss from you
You know I do, I do, I do
From now on, all my Christmases with you
 
8.Mistletoe – Colbie Caillat I think that this one is a little better known than the others, but still. We can’t judge something for being popular, that would be, like, uncool of us.
 
It’s not Christmas if the snow don’t fall
And I’m still standing here, three feet small
Lose our troubles because after all, it’s Christmas time
It’s Christmas time
 
9.Christmas Wrapping – The Waitresses This is in the same league as those super cheesy romantic holiday movies. It’s pretty long, and there’s a lot of build up, but the ending is hilariously satisfying. If you can’t wait through all of the repetition, just skip ahead to the end, I won’t tell on you.
 
Calendar picture, frozen landscape,
Chill this room for twenty-four days
Evergreens, sparkling snow
Get this winter over with!

Happy holiday-ing.
​GU

I have a serious problem. I cannot stop buying things on Amazon.

It is just too convenient. Especially since my car broke down, it's so much easier to order something that will be delivered to you in two days than go to a physical store where you have to interact with human beings and probably also get dressed. 

​Convenience and ease aside, I really don't need most of these things. Why do I buy them then, you may ask? Well, let's try to figure that out. 

​By the way-- just in case anyone reading this thought I might be sponsored to do this, I would just like to clear the air and make it known that of course I am not being sponsored how many people do you think read this thing?

This is a real item that I purchased (as is everything that follows). It is literally a plush toy in the likeness of a piece of tamago sushi, which happens to be one of my favorite kinds of sushi (it's basically an omelet on rice, which sounds more strange than it is). Why do I need this? Why did I spend $11.99 on this? Well. It's soft. It's cute. Oh god, the buyer's remorse. ​

Next, I spent my hard-earned money on these shoes, except I bought them in red. Yes, imagine that ridiculousness in red. That is what I own. I'm not going to assume that this is everyone's style, but come on, even if you're not a pom-pom type of person, you have to admit that these are fairly fabulous. Of course, the pom-pom on the left shoe actually fell off. It's fine. I'm fine. I do not regret this purchase. That is what I like to tell myself. 

Okay, but electroluminescent wire is actually super cool. For the uninitiated, they're basically long, flexible, portable LED lights that you can mold into shapes. I like to make faux-neon signs out of them. No, I haven't done anything yet with the 9 feet of red electroluminescent wire I bought on Amazon, but like, I will, one day. Eventually. 

This is a 33-piece beginner's calligraphy set. I have never done calligraphy before. When I was at my sickest peak on the mono-rollercoaster, I bought this so that I didn't feel like I was wasting my youth. Why not spend all the time in bed trying to teach myself a new skill? Sigh. I am my harshest critic. Anyway, calligraphy is very hard and so far I am awful at it.

Embarrassingly, I am super excited about this. It's an iPhone case with a really quite beautiful, vintage-y winter scene on the back, complete with Santa in his sleigh, and silver stars, glitter, and sparkle that actually move around as though your phone is a snow globe. I really think this is beyond awesome. I have a lot of holiday spirit. Some might say too much. 

This final purchase is the most inexplicable yet. I have never seen the movie Top Gun. I have no need for this jumpsuit. Halloween is long over. And for the cherry on top, this random whim was way too expensive. I kind of just wanted it for loungewear. Like, when I get home from class, I'll take off my jeans and put this on. That sounds so bad. Who am I? I should probably watch the movie now, though, huh?

Happy Amazon-ing.
GU 

In the mid-19th century, people decided that it was really fun and hilarious to make up longwinded, silly words that vaguely resembled Latin but actually just meant nothing. Believe it or not, a lot of the words have survived, including "discombobulated" and "rambunctious." I wish "absquatulate" was one of those lucky few.

I'm fascinated with the idea of the Irish Goodbye. If you've not heard of it, it's when someone leaves a party/event/gathering/etc. without saying goodbye to anybody. I love this. I do this. I enjoy doing this. It brings me joy.

​Basically, to absquatulate is to perform the Irish Goodbye. The fact that it was once just a silly grouping of sounds that made some people in the 1830s laugh and is now a word found in the dictionary but not actually used by anybody seems very Irish Goodbye-ish to me. Like it left the party, no one even realized it was at the party, but then someone puts a photo of it on Facebook the next week and everyone's like, "Who's she?"

Happy absquatulating. 
​GU        

​Last Tuesday, I heard a certain Beyoncé song for the first time. (Yes, that last Tuesday- i.e. Apocalypse Election Day 2016, and, yes, I also can’t believe that there’s a Beyoncé song that I haven’t heard yet.)

Apparently it’s a popular one. The chorus is quite repetitive and easy to memorize: “A diva is the female version of a hustler.” If you’ve heard it, just reading that sentence will probably get it stuck in your head for the rest of the day.  I refuse to apologize for that.

I have a feeling last Tuesday will become one of Those Days. “Those Days” being: I remember what I was wearing, where I was, and the stupid drama I was thinking about (other examples of Those Days, at least for me, include 9/11 and when Michael Jackson died).

Last Tuesday, I was wearing a yellow skirt covered in a pattern of little black umbrellas. I was outside of my school’s dining hall. I was thinking about stupid drama.

Across from the door of the dining hall, a club had set up a table to encourage students to go vote. They were offering free pizza for voters, and playing loud, fun, pop music. At this hour of the day, it was already getting dark, as it is wont to do this late in the season. After assuring some enthusiastic tablers that yes, I did vote, and no, I did not want any pizza, that certain Beyoncé song came on. My entire walk home I could hear it. It was freaking empowering.

Let me set the scene. I had managed to go to class that day, which has been a bit of a challenge lately due to the mono thing. My hair was in a high ponytail, which always feels really powerful for some reason (probably because it sways and bounces like a goddamn pendulum when I walk and makes me feel like a goddamn haute couture model). For the first time in weeks, I was on top of my shit. I felt like a diva.

Of course, when I woke up the next morning to the horrific results of the election, I was kicked down a few notches. But more on that later.

After the initial high had dissipated, I got to thinking about what a diva actually is. Despite feeling like one, I honestly had/have no idea. We all know Beyonce’s definition, as she repeats it several times in the course of a three-minute track. A quick Google search gave me a wealth of options: A diva is a famous female opera singer, a famous female singer of popular music, or a woman regarded as temperamental or haughty.

I definitely relate to one of these definitions. It’s like that game, two lies and a truth—or is it two truths and a lie? (Here’s a hint: as much as I love karaoke, my singing voice is nothing to write to Simon Cowell about. Is this an outdated reference? I kind of miss American Idol though.) 

Note: You know how there’s usually an example of the word used in a sentence alongside dictionary definitions? The sentence corresponding to the temperamental/haughty diva is “she’s such a diva that she won’t enter a restaurant until they change the pictures on the walls to her liking.” Is it just me or does that seem like a really low-effort example? Like, come on. You could’ve had fun with this one.

Urban Dictionary’s definitions (and example sentences for that matter) are significantly more interesting, though they range from really negative to, well, really positive. I’m not interested in a word used to describe powerful women having sexist undertones, though, so honestly I’m just ignoring most of them. Appropriately, my sentiment in the last sentence is very diva-ish (according to my research, anyway).

Basically, a diva knows what she wants, isn’t afraid to go for it, doesn’t sweat the haters, and manages to do all of the above with grace and class.

So pretty much exactly who I want to be, but have a really hard time being.

I know what I want (sometimes). I’m not afraid to go for it (usually). But, man, I sweat the haters. I do. And as much as I try to have grace and class in all situations, I’m only human.  

Beyoncé really doesn’t seem like she sweats the haters. And if she did, it would be in a sauna with a ton of nice-smelling oils and shit. How does she do it? How do I live the Beyoncé lifestyle with less money, less social media followers, less carefree coolness?

That’s probably the problem, right there. I don’t need any of those things (I mean, I do need enough money to survive, but not Chanel wardrobe money). I’m so worried about what I don’t have, so fixated on how I could be different, that I’m not playing on my strengths.

Sure, some days, it feels like my only strength is the ability to breathe involuntarily. But those days are few and far between, and usually I’m being oversensitive, or overreacting, or overthinking, or all three at once.

In times like these, can anyone really afford the selfishness and narcissism that comes with doing you, for you, all day long? There’s so much to do, to read, to write. There are so many people who need the attention of those who have enough time/resources to worry about these things (i.e. me).

But at the same time, is it really that selfish or narcissistic to go for your dreams and ignore the critics? The jury is still out on that one. Until then, I’ll just keep trying. Trying what, I don’t know; it changes day-to-day, and sometimes I can’t pinpoint what I need to do or how to do it.

​But as long as I just keep on, acknowledging the little haters in my head and in my life while letting them roll off my back, doing what I can for my fellow humans, cutting myself and the people around me a little slack, and letting my ponytail swing to powerful divas singing about being a powerful diva, I feel like, at least for now, I’m not doing nothing.
           
Happy diva-ing.
GU

I’ve gone viral.

By that I mean I’ve contracted the Epstein-Barr virus, which causes the infection mononucleosis, referred to by playground bullies as “the kissing disease.” (Doctors also call it this but doesn't it just sound like something Billy Shea middle school bully would say?) In French – le mononucléose. About three weeks ago, I was told that I have acute mononucleosis, which just means that it was a recent onset. It also means that I’m particularly adorable when I’m sick.

That joke is really obvious, trite, and overdone, but whatever, I have mono.

So, yes, I’ve been playing the mono card like crazy recently. On one hand, I actually need to play it. The fatigue is unbelievable. The quality and frequency of the symptoms is bizarre and seemingly random. During the worst couple of days, not even my phone alarm, which is set to Ridiculous because I’m bad at waking up at my healthiest, could get me to open my eyes. I couldn’t think; it was like all language was a thousand pound bar I was incapable of deadlifting. And I can't even deadlift fifteen pounds (probably). I don't even know if I'm using the correct deadlifting terminology. All food tasted like dirt, when I had the energy to get up and feed myself. I couldn’t even eat mashed potatoes. I love mashed potatoes, and I just pushed them around on my plate till I felt nauseous enough to constitute going back to bed.

On the other hand, I hate having to play the mono card. I hate giving excuses for missing responsibilities, falling behind, going home early. It doesn’t even matter that it’s a perfectly valid excuse, or that my professors have been understanding and sympathetic, or that all of my good friends know and don’t mind that I’m not around as much as I want to be.

I’ve gotten better since then. I don’t need to rest as often. Going to class isn’t an unachievable goal. I have an overwhelming amount of work to catch up on, and it’s utterly freaking me out. I still can’t do a lot of things. I feel stuck.

It doesn’t help that my car keeps breaking down. I just want to drive to the grocery store and buy a couple of pints of ice cream and some Tollhouse cookie dough. But instead I’m here, in my bed, which is very comfortable, but a little too familiar lately.

It’s different, being sick when you’re a young adult. Your classmates don’t make a “Get Well” card. Your parents aren’t there, in the room next to yours, when you can’t sleep. The support system you’ve tried to build up is too busy with their own snags and complications to worry about why you’re sleeping so much. 

I’ve watched too much Netflix these past three weeks.

I don’t feel well.

Whatever.

Is it called “going viral” when you/a video/some Twitter account becomes really popular really quickly because having a viral disease actually makes you infectious? It’s interesting, because both are contagions with different results. In the former, people flock to you. In the latter, everyone runs in the opposite direction.

My mono is not the worst thing happening in the world right now. It is not even in the top million worst things. That is an objective truth. But it certainly makes the top million worst things that much more overwhelming, though. 

Happy hanging in there. 
GU

Am I the only person who really detests “Monster Mash?” Why is this seemingly my only Halloween listening option? What is the appeal there?!

This year, I decided to stop complaining about “Monster Mash” and instead be a little more creative with my smooth Hallow-listening. This playlist, running at about a half an hour as per usual, is delightfully creepy (and eclectic, of course).

​Though most of these songs may be familiar, they aren’t your typical October favorites. Whether this is your second, third, or hundredth listen to some of these classics, the spook and fright of this Halloween night might make them just a bit more ghostly.
 
Creep on over to the entire playlist here.
​
1.Zombie – The Cranberries Nothing like a song about the continuous violence in Northern Ireland to put the fear of the night in you. 

In your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
What’s in your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
 
2.Psycho Killer – Talking Heads A serial killer?! And random French?! In the same?! Song?! True horror.
 
Psycho killer
Qu’est-ce que c’est
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better
Run run run run run run run away
 
3.Jack’s Lament – The All-American Rejects I love this version of the song from Nightmare Before Christmas. Spooks have feelings, too!
 
I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light
And I'll scare you right out of your pants
To a guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky
And I'm known throughout England and France
 
And since I am dead, I can take off my head
To recite Shakespearean quotations
No animal nor man can scream like I can
With the fury of my recitations
 
But who here would ever understand
That the Pumpkin King with the skeleton grin
Would tire of his crown, if they only understood
He'd give it all up if he only could
 
4.I Put a Spell on You – The Animals This one is for all my bad witches.
 
I put a spell on you
Because you’re mine
 
5.Spooky – Dusty Springfield Have you ever fallen deeply for the ghost that haunts your attic? No? Yeah, totally, me neither.
 
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you
 
6.People Are Strange – The Doors This was my favorite song in the eighth grade. What does that tell you about my middle school persona?
 
People are strange when you’re a strange
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down
 
7.Disturbia – Rihanna A more recent Halloween classic, I like to think of Disturbia as Rihanna’s modern response to FDR’s renowned quote, “The only thing to fear is fear itself.”
 
It’s a thief in the night
To come and grab you
It can creep up inside you
And consume you
A disease of the mind
It can control you
It’s too close to comfort
 
8.Superstition – Stevie Wonder Because Halloween makes old superstitious grannies of us all.
 
Very superstitious, writings on the wall
Very superstitious, ladders ‘bout to fall
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin’ glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past
 
9.Bad Things – Jace Everett I got this song from the theme of one of my favorite guilty pleasure shows, the always-wacky True Blood. This song will definitely get you into the falling-for-a-ghost mood (but as we already discussed that definitely never happens to sane normal people).
 
When you came in the air went out
And every shadow filled up with doubt
I don’t know who you think you are
But before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you

In case you got too scared the first time, once again the mix is available for listening here.
 
Happy listening/spookin’.
-GU

Book lovers everywhere, get pumped: tomorrow is the start of Banned Books Week.

What does this mean, exactly? Honestly, not a whole lot for most of the world. If you live in Washington D.C., you can search around the city for books wrapped in the (irrational, ridiculous, pointless) reasons that they were banned, which is very cool. Anyone in Washington D.C. over the next week should take advantage of this rebellious and yet somehow also wholesome scavenger hunt fun.  

But the rest of us have to celebrate on our own. We could all just go about our normal lives, taking for granted our freedom to read just about anything we want, or we could bake cakes shaped like books, with Fifty Shades of Grey written in probably-not-gray icing, Jim Dale’s audiobook narration of the entire Harry Potter series playing in the background, and goodie bags of inked-up pens and freshly sharpened pencils as party favors. (Am I the only person wondering why CVS doesn’t have a seasonal section for Banned Books Week?)

Really, the whole point of Banned Books Week is to learn about censorship, through the lens of some of the world’s favorite books. So this year, I put away my Jane Austen-style, Regency era nightgown and decided to ask (Google) the question: Why were these beloved books banned in the first place? I’ve compiled a list of some of the most Literary with a capital L masterpieces. Read on to find out just some of the silliness that has actually occurred in our nation’s colorful history.

​By the way—none of these books were banned where I grew up. I read nearly all of them in high school, when I was young and naïve. Does no one care about my purity? What about my innocence? Oh, well. It’s too late now. Besides, being corrupted is way more fun.

The banning of The Catcher in the Rye, a novel by possibly the most popular recluse ever J.D. Salinger, is a little easier to believe than the banning of Captain Underpants. I mean, it does have some profanity in it. And, like, a scene with a prostitute. But compared to some of the things I've accidentally seen on television, it's not that bad. 

So what's the real underlying issue here? Is it the vulgar language and occasionally crude scenes? Is it because Holden despises all that represents middle class values, which is something that so many Americans hold so very dear? Or is everyone just angry at Salinger for going into seclusion and not tweeting answers to readers' burning questions like J.K. Rowling does?

Turns out, it's not as psychologically exciting as my imagination can come up with. Boringly, profanity was a big reason. True, Holden curses every other word, and if not every other word, then at least every other sentence. But a book can't be this controversial based on foul language alone. 

Here's where it gets interesting: in 1987, The Catcher in the Rye was banned from a school in North Dakota for even just discussing premarital sex. I haven't read this book in a while, but I don't think Holden "gets some" at any point (wow, I gagged a little even just writing that phrase). So it was actually just banned for the minute mention of premarital sex. In 1985, a school in Florida also banned the novel, citing its only reason being that the book is "unacceptable." It certainly doesn't help that only five years prior, a man named Mark David Chapman, while holding his personal annotated copy, shot and killed John Lennon in New York City. This unfortunate tie is made worse by the fact that Chapman assassinated Lennon because, in his words, he was "being a phony" (those of you who have read The Catcher in the Rye or even my Wednesday Word series are familiar with the term). 

​Despite all of the dumb reasons, and the admittedly crazy and terrible reasons, too, The Catcher in the Rye is consistently reinstated into the average high schoolers' literature curriculum. I remember reading it my freshman year of high school. And honestly, I loved it. It helped me feel, if nothing else, just a little bit less insane. 

I know. I know. This one is truly unbelievable. 

How could anyone possibly ever even imagine banning such a historically, emotionally, and spiritually significant work? And reason is not because children might get nightmares from the atrocities that Frank describes with deeply beautiful language and honesty. It's not because it scares people that human beings once had to completely stop their own lives, hide in an attic, and yet still end up in the horrific Nazi death camps. It is because, in the midst of one of Frank's brief diary entries, the young teenage girl described the maturation of the female body.

Puberty. She talked about puberty, and everyone freaked out. Some schools even assigned censored versions to their English classes. Because no one can handle reading a couple of sentences about an intelligent girl maturely discussing sexual organs.

The thought makes me livid not only because I am a moderately decent human being, and not only because I am a reader who trusts books to read as they were written, but also because I am a proud woman who has read too freaking much about penises, who has seen too many crappy drawings of penises on bathroom stalls and textbooks, who has heard too many jokes about penises. One mention of a vagina, and people are spending money, time, and effort editing, reprinting, redistributing, and reassigning a classic masterpiece that somehow exists in a vagina-less world.

So, yes. I have very strong feelings about this banning, which to me is nothing less than a major injustice to the Frank family and to young girls and boys everywhere who deserve to read an accurate account of this miraculous and inspiring girl's childhood. 

There you have it. As previously stated, banning books is ridiculous. But at least it reminds us why the freedom to write and the freedom to read are so important. Basically, get your butt to your local library and read whatever the heck you want, and don't forget to consider the things that some scared-o said you shouldn't read! No one can tell us what not to read! We are masters of our texts! We are captains of our words!

Happy reading!
-GU

I agonized that this day would never come. But here it is, ladies, gentleman, otherwise. Mark it in your calendars. September 13th. The day Girl Unaffiliated finally finished writing about the pastries she ate every day (and definitely more than once a day) en France. Don’t get your hopes up. I did not plan this well and pastry number fourteen is no more exciting than the previous thirteen. Well, depending on how much you like clafoutis.

Have you ever heard of the French region Limousin? No? That’s honestly unsurprising. It’s one of the least populated areas of France, known mostly for a massacre that happened in its principal city Limoges during the Hundred Years War. Apparently three thousand civilians were slain due to the atrocity orchestrated by the “Black Prince,” or Edward of Woodstock (Woodstock because he was born at Woodstock Palace in Oxfordshire, not because he was also a hippie in the 60s).  

So that sucks. But one thing that totally doesn’t suck about Limousin is it’s delicious clafoutis (in case you were wondering, you don’t pronounce the “s” – it’s more like claw-foot-ee). The word comes from the Occitan word clafir, meaning “to fill.” Occitan is a local dialect of Limousin, as well as some parts of Italy and Spain.

Clafoutis is essentially a batter poured over cherries in a buttered baking dish and baked, then dusted with sugar and served warm. Traditionalists don’t unpit the cherries, which just sounds like a chore to me, but who knows, maybe it adds incredible flavor.

Of course, like most famous French desserts, its origin is uncertain. We do know one thing: if you make a clafoutis with anything but cherries, like pears, plums, blueberries, mangos, blackberries, or apples, it’s not called a clafoutis anymore, but a flaugnarde. There was also a bit of a conflict between the people of Limousin and L’Académie francaise when the latter, the council for all matters regarding French language, referred to the clafoutis as a “fruit flan.” People freaked out. And really, for good reason. This thing is not a flan. That was just poor judgment.  

I’m not typically a fruit-in-desserts kind of gal (except for, of course, apples, which barely count as a fruit when paired with dessert ingredients) but this is just delectable. The cherries are so soft and baked down they just melt into the delicious butter-y, pudding-y batter. Compared to most of my other Daily Pastry posts, this one is a little bit harder to find, but it is truly a treat.

​And with that, I say goodbye to my French desserts, and to my good cholesterol.
 
Bon appétit.
GU

​The Daily Pastry marathon continues with yet another classic French favorite: tarte tatin. This dessert is truly a celebration of apples. By caramelizing them in butter and sugar and then baking the apples into the buttery-salty tart crust, this simple, common fruit truly becomes a phénomène.

​Obviously, I think this is delicious, but what makes it even better is its awesome history. But before we delve into that, take a look at this gooey goodness:

In the 1880s, two sisters, Stéphanie and Caroline Tatin, owned and operated Hotel Tatin in Lamotte-Beuvron, France. Stéphanie did most of the cooking, which must’ve been exhausting, so understandably one day, while making a traditional apple pie, she left the apples cooking in butter and sugar for too long. When she smelled the burning, she rushed to fix the dish by putting the pastry base on top of the pan of apples, essentially making a longer-baked, upside-down apple pie. The hotel guests loved the accidental creation.

Word of their tart spread across France. One legend says that Louis Vaudable, owner of Maxim’s, even disguised himself as a gardener at the Hotel Tatin to get the recipe. As he described it, “I used to hunt around Lamotte-Beuvron in my youth and had discovered, in a very small hotel run by elderly ladies, a marvelous dessert listed on the menu under tarte solognote; I questioned the kitchen staff about its recipe, but was sternly rebuffed. Undaunted, I got myself hired as a gardener, but three days later, I was fired when it became clear that I could hardly plant a cabbage; however this was long enough to pierce the secrets of the kitchen; I brought the recipe back and put it on my own menu under 'tarte des demoiselles Tatin.’”

This guy had the guts to not only steal the recipe, but also steal the sisters’ family name. That is the power of this dessert. In short (in case it wasn't already obvious), highly recommended.
 
Bon appétit.
GU

​I ate one pastry (or more) every day a little over a month ago. I promised a write-up about each one of them, and I’ve still got three left. So now we’re gonna marathon this thing.

The Saint Honoré is a pastry that I came to France knowing I wanted to try, mostly because my mother told me this story: when she and my dad went to Angelina, the famous Parisian café, the combination of an extra thick chocolat chaud and the Saint Honoré made her run for the bathroom like she’d just taken some kind of max strength laxative. You would think this would deter me from wanting to try the Saint Honoré, but this sweet little family anecdote only presented the kind of challenge I like to conquer. A digestive challenge. (I am exaggerating for emphasis. I do not actually like digestive challenges.)

​It’s possibly not quite as innocent as it appears:

​My mother must just have a super sensitive stomach, because this pastry did not have even a fraction of the same effect on me. It’s exceptionally rich, and the vanilla whipped cream was absolutely delicious, but I’m just not a cream puff kind of gal. And the Saint Honoré, from my admittedly gastronomically ignorant perspective, is a glorified cream puff.

Of course, this classic French dessert has an interesting past. This choux pastry dish is named after Saint Honoré or Honoratus, the patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs, bishop of Amiens.

Honoratus, despite his name, believed himself to be unworthy. He was reluctant to be elected bishop of Amiens, even though he was allegedly virtuous from birth. When Honoratus was finally proclaimed bishop, his nursemaid, in the middle of the baking bread for the family, remarked that she would only believe the news if the peel she was using to bake the bread put down roots and turned itself into a tree. Of course, once the peel was placed in the ground, it transformed into a mulberry tree that was still being shown into the sixteenth century.

There’s no other information as to why Honoratus became Saint Honoré, the patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs. He didn’t seem to be a baker himself, but I guess a tree growing out of a peel in your name is pretty miraculous and deserving of whatever sainthood.   
 
Bon appétit.
GU