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Hannah Sjovold November 2, 2021 | 2:17pm EDT Contrary to popular belief, you can never grow out of picture books. Okay, yes, maybe you don’t want to read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” when you’re 21-years old, but the world of illustrated books doesn’t stop when you turn double-digits. Technically, graphic novels aren’t a genre -- they’re a format. They’re similar to comic books since they use sequential art to tell a story, but graphic novels are generally stand-alone stories with more complex plots. They can be fiction, non-fiction, history, fantasy, memoirs, and anything in-between. Within the format of “graphic novel,” there are a few main “sub-genres” or predominant ways to categorize them including manga, superhero stories, personal narratives (“perzines”), and non-fiction. Manga is the Japanese word for “comic” but in the US, it is used to describe Japanese-style comics. It’s read from top to bottom and right to left since that is the traditional Japanese reading pattern. Titles: Death Note, Full Metal Alchemist Superhero graphic novels have taken the most popular form of comics and turned the brief episodic adventures into sagas. Superhero comics are dominated by the mainstream publishers Marvel, DC, and Darkhorse. Titles: Batman: Dark Knight Returns, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Astro City. Personal narratives, or “perzines,” are autobiographical stories written from the author’s personal experiences, opinions, observations, and life in general. Titles: Fun Home, Blankets, Lucky, The Quitter. Non-fiction graphic novels are similar to perzines since they are also usually written from the author’s personal experience, but the author generally uses their own experience to add to the discourse around a greater social issue or event. Titles: Pedro and Me, Maus, Persepolis. Graphic novels have become a safe haven of intensely beautiful stories full of good (and accurate) representation, fostering a community that accepts anyone and everyone. There are stories about coming out, accepting your gender identity, reckoning with intergenerational trauma, life as a child of immigrants, being disabled, and countless other stories beyond the white, cisgender, heteronormative, patriarchal norm in literature. Graphic novels will always hold a special place in my heart because it was within their pages that I was able to say, “Hey! That’s me,” and that is extremely powerful. Below, I’ve listed a select few graphic novels from authors that I love and stories that will always live in my heart. On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden (and really any of her other books) This is a queer coming-of-age story about a girl who travels the universe to find a long- lost love. It’s a story about how to thrive in a society that doesn’t understand who you are or what you can do. While the book may look intimidating to read (544 pages), it’s a pretty quick read because I guarantee you will not be able to put it down until you finish it. The story and drawings toy with time, space, love, friendship, and identity. I credit this book with how I fell in love with graphic novels. (Also, you can read it all for free here: https://www.onasunbeam.com/). Tillie Walden’s other books have also become favorites of mine which include Spinning, Alone in Space, Are You Listening?, and The End of Summer. She also illustrated this digital zine on girl in red (https://wepresent.wetransfer.com/story/girl-in-red-graphic-novel/). The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen This graphic novel tells the story of Tiến Phong, a second-generation American Vietnamese teenager, who helps his mother learn English through fairy tales while struggling to tell her about his sexuality. The illustrations in this book are breathtaking, and the story is impossible to not fall in love with. Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe Maia’s intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears. Gender Queer started as a way for Maia to explain to eir family what it means to be nonbinary and asexual, but it has now become a resource for advocates, friends, and people in general. Even if you don’t identify as ace or non-binary, almost everyone can relate to the themes of awkward adolescence, not knowing where you belong, and (eventually) settling into who you are. The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui The Best We Could Do chronicles Thi Bui’s parents’ life before and during the Vietnam War, their escape from Vietnam when Bui was a child, their eventual migration to the US as refugees, and Bui’s own experiences growing up as an immigrant in the US and becoming a mother. It touches on themes such as family, parenthood, belonging, the meaning of home, and the importance of education. This was one of the most touching graphic novels I’ve ever read - both the illustrations and the story. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi Persepolis is an autobiographical series of bande dessinées later published as a complete graphic novel that depicts Satrapi’s childhood up to her early adult years in Iran and Austria during and after the Islamic Revolution. It has since been made into a movie (but I haven’t seen it, so I can’t comment on it yet, haha). This book is honest, raw, and explicit as it details Satrapi’s life without censure. Bloom by Kevin Panetta and Savanna Ganucheau Ari has grown up working for his family’s bakery, but now that high school is over, he longs to quit that job and move to the big city with his band. Enter Hector, an easygoing guy who loves baking and starts to work in Ari’s family’s bakery. It’s an adorable story about young love, difficult choices, facing consequences, growing up, and learning what it means to love someone. Ghosts by Raina Telgemeier Synopsis: “Catrina and her family are moving to the coast of Northern California because her little sister, Maya, is sick. Cat isn’t happy about leaving her friends for Bahía de la Luna, but Maya has cystic fibrosis and will benefit from the cool, salty air that blows in from the sea. As the girls explore their new home, a neighbor lets them in on a secret: There are ghosts in Bahía de la Luna. Maya is determined to meet one, but Cat wants nothing to do with them. As the time of year when ghosts reunite with their loved ones approaches, Cat must figure out how to put aside her fears for her sister’s sake – and her own” (https://goraina.com/ghosts). This is a touching story about sisterhood, illness, and family. Raina Telgemeier’s other books are also worth a read, centering on many familiar themes about growing up and finding who you are. There are countless other graphic novels for you to explore, so what are you waiting for?!

Natalie Flynn October 21, 2021 | 2:36pm EDT It’s fall, and with the seasonal lattes come everyone’s seasonal Spotify playlists. Certain songs just fit the vibes of October, and this year, that got me thinking: isn’t that true of every month on the calendar? I set out to map the year in theme songs, January through December. What follows are some of my personal favorites. Enjoy! January: “Cardigan” by Taylor Swift There’s a certain sadness to the idea of January, I think. It rings of dark blues and greys, of cloudy skies and dry snowfall. “Cardigan” captures that feeling from the first notes of its wistful piano riff. The quarter note triplets in the verse layer on slowly, like heavy snow, over that shuffling pulse. It brings to mind that simple pleasure of finding an old sweater you’d forgotten about, or snuggling up with some tea; just you and your creature comforts against the cold, grey world. February: “2/14” by The Band Camino I’ll be honest: my brain went straight to this song because of the title, but Valentine’s Day isn’t the only reason I think “2/14” feels like February. There’s just something so endearing about it. The lyrics give meet-cute, and the instrumental gives glitter confetti. Add in the world’s best choppy piano chord intro, and there’s no song I’d rather dance around in my fuzzy socks to. By this time of winter, I think we could all use a little of that. March: “Violet” by Bad Suns Right from the snap in the first few seconds, this song is gearing up for something. To me, it perfectly captures that time of year when you first break out the hoodies after long months of winter coats. The weather isn’t quite ready for them yet, and you’re a little too chilly for comfort, but goddammit, you just want to run down the puddle-strewn sidewalk with your hood flapping behind you. And when you do, it feels so unbelievably light. Every hint of green jumps out as a little miracle. The air smells like rain and adventure. You know the feeling. So do Bad Suns, I think. April: “Green Tea Ice Cream” by Linda Diaz “Green Tea Ice Cream” says spring to me, and not just because of the actual birdsong in the instrumental. This slow, gentle groove is full of interesting sounds. It’s ethereal. It’s a little shy. And at its core, it’s a song about taking time to care for yourself in a world that never stops moving. April can be stressful, between ramped-up classes and future plans. We could all use a pastel-hued reminder to pause and breathe. May: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz For whatever reason, choosing a song for May was one of the hardest parts of this quest. Ultimately though, I decided it’s a month with fun on the close horizon. What better song than “Hotel” to fuel that pent-up yearning to let loose? Claire paints a picture of an innocent sort of recklessness, with her usual goofy, spontaneous flair. The instrumental has a dash of that summer sound too— just the amount of summer that you can see from May’s vantage point. June: “Too Good” by Arlo Parks If you’re into incredible lyrics and music that always slaps, look no further than Arlo Parks. And if it happens to be June, head straight to “Too Good.” This song is 3 minutes and 41 seconds of sunshine. Soft vocals float above summery guitar lines and a bouncy, shuffling, hip-hop beat. Bright but easy-going, it invites you to kick back and dance. You’ll want to roll the windows down. July: “Photo ID (with Dominic Fike)” by Remi Wolf and Dominic Fike If months were flavors, I think July would taste like Sour Patch Kids. And if Sour Patch Kids were a song, they would undoubtedly be “Photo ID (with Dominic Fike).” It’s catchy, it’s electric, and it’s kind of weird. If “Too Good” is the kind of sunshine you can bask in, this song is the kind of sunshine that makes you squint a little, in a good way. For the peak of summer, it was the most larger-than-life groove I could find. August: “A Toast and a Spirit” by Vacation Manor August gets a bad rap, understandably. It’s so often remembered for long, muggy days and the return to normalcy. This song, though? It screams August in the best possible way. You can still hear summer in that classic, beachy Vacation Manor guitar, but in “A Toast and a Spirit,” it brings to mind fireflies and front porches, not palm trees. It’s nostalgic. It’s hopeful. It’s the end of something good and the start of something new. September: “We Share The Same Skies” by The Cribs I associate this song with bittersweetness, and driving fast under gathering storm clouds. To me, it reflects the chaos of the back-to-school transition period, of getting lost and making friends and figuring things out. The guitar powers it forwards with breakneck intensity, but there’s something comforting about the chorus that keeps me coming back. My friend would say it’s “summer in a fall font.” Just like September. October: “State of Grace” by Taylor Swift Here’s a hot take: Red is Taylor’s most underrated album, and “State of Grace” is the best song on it. It pounds like Doc Martins down a leaf-strewn sidewalk. It’s somehow both heavy and light, like the rush of early autumn, when every sign of the season is cause for adrenaline. It’s comforting. For me, this comfort goes back to sixth-grade days in my mom’s passenger seat, and knowing every word by heart. But even if you didn’t come of age to “State of Grace,” you’ll find joy in this fall anthem. It’s sharp gusts of wind, it’s wild laughter, and it’s facing the world like you’re the most powerful thing in it. Bring it on, October. November: “East Harlem” by Beirut I’ll come clean here: November is my favorite month. To me, it means things are starting to calm down and settle in. It means true, consistent sweater weather. It makes me feel safe. For all these reasons, I nominate “East Harlem” as this month’s song. Not only does it live permanently on my relaxation playlist; it positively reeks of late fall. The quarter notes are so grounding. The melody is so gentle. I can practically smell the nutmeg and cinnamon. There’s a curiosity to it, that brings to mind hikes and adventures. It’s November in an audible hug. December: “The Trouble With Love Is” by Kelly Clarkson Blame Love, Actually for this one. I was raised on the soundtrack, and everything on it reminds me of December. This song is as warm and fuzzy as it gets. Bring on the fairy lights!

Anjoleigh Schindler November 18, 2021 | 4:38pm EST If you’re looking for something to do on a winter weekend downtown, you should consider visiting a new exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. Filled with photos taken by women from the 1920s to the 1950s, it features over a hundred photographers from around the world. These women embraced photography professionally and artistically during a time wedged between and around two world wars, and expressed themselves through this medium of art. ‘The New Woman’ was a global phenomenon that welcomed female empowerment in an untypical fashion. The New Woman had bobbed hair, stylish clothing, and an air of confidence. She broke societal gender roles and represented women of all classes. Photography was a new career path for women, who did not have much available to them. Cameras were becoming smaller and more lightweight, making it easier for women to take advantage of. The subjects of these women’s photos range from portraitures to architecture to sports. They also depict real life during real times, such as breadlines and worker demonstrations. Often, they were given ‘soft assignments’ like taking pictures of families and domestic life, but some women got into the deep end with photos of concentration camps and victory parades.The exhibit includes work from Berenice Abbott, Ilse Bing, Lola Álvarez Bravo, Florestine Perrault Collins, Imogen Cunningham, Madame d’Ora, Florence Henri, Elizaveta Ignatovich, Consuelo Kanaga, Germaine Krull, Dorothea Lange, Dora Maar, Tina Modotti, Niu Weiyu, Tsuneko Sasamoto, Gerda Taro, and Homai Vyarawalla. Dorothea Lange is perhaps the biggest name of this collection, as she was well known for her photojournalism during the Depression-era. She made a direct impact on documentary photography and realistically depicted the consequences of the economic collapse of the thirties in American society. These women are largely considered to have changed the direction of modern photography entirely. The exhibit is open until January 30th , 2022, but you should run, not walk.

Emma Southern May 9, 2021 | 2:52pm EDT I can’t remember the last time I went to an art museum (or any museum, for that matter). I miss walking down long hallways and through expansive rooms, admiring art from different times in different styles in different forms. And I’m not sure when I will next be able to go to an art museum—the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. is still “temporarily closed.” But museums aren’t the only places to see art. I moved to D.C. in March for the Mid-Semester Residential Experience offered by the university, and I was not sure how much exploring of the city I would be able to do given the restrictions. While the Smithsonian museums are still closed and large gatherings are prohibited, there are, in fact, still plenty of activities to occupy myself. Besides, D.C. is so much more than just the monuments, museums, and memorials. On every street, you can find some bit of local history and culture, including art. Street art (both legal and illegal) is quite common in neighborhoods throughout the city. In Dupont Circle, an arts organization utilizes an abandoned streetcar station to boast “creative exchange and contemporary arts.” Sharing a name with the organization, the physical Dupont Underground is located below the center of the neighborhood. I decided to take a visit with a friend. I entered off of 19th Street (by the Starbucks). Patrons walk down a set of steps, where the walls are covered in art, to a dimly lit foyer and open a door painted red. On their left is a sculpture, in front a reception desk. The current exhibit at the Dupont Underground is titled “Architecture & the Question of Democracy.” Along one wall is a series of signs relating the political history of Portugal to the country’s architectural work. The other wall features projected screens that summarize a Re-Think Dupont Circle Design Competition, including conceptual designs for the winner and runners-up. Beyond the exhibit, one wall is covered in murals (you may even see artists at work adding to the wall). I spent around 45 minutes walking through the Underground, admiring art, watching the projections change through slides, and reading signs. I could tell that the Underground was still not operating at the same capacity under restrictions of the pandemic. The pop-up bar was closed; speakers played music from a playlist (rather than live music); my friend and I were the only non-employees there. I highly recommend a visit sometime. Go with friends. Spend a whole day in Dupont. Stop at local cafes and bookstores, and scout out some street art. “Architecture & the Question of Democracy” is open until May 23 if that exhibit interests you. I, for one, would love to return to the Dupont Underground when conditions are different and to see a new exhibit (future exhibits have yet to be announced).

Natalie Flynn April 30, 2021 | 6:23pm EDT Warning: spoilers ahead! Spring of 2020. Birds were singing, COVID-19 was turning the world upside-down, and I was finishing my senior year of high school. On May 15th, Avatar: The Last Airbender dropped on Netflix in the United States, and I, like many others, rejoiced. Finally, an easy way to watch this childhood classic! Something else to fill the endless hours of quarantine! Without a doubt, convenience and boredom were two factors that prompted so many young adults to binge this kids show last year. They weren’t the only factors, though. See, I had already been watching ATLA before May 15th. My best friend, who has reminisced about the show to me for as long as I can remember, sent me a link to watch it earlier that spring. I don’t remember what this site was, but it was sketchy to say the least. Starting up an episode was like starting up an ancient car; it only worked sometimes, with finesse, and it stuttered once it began, regardless of your wifi capacity. I won’t dwell on the occasional weird ad that popped up in the corner. By the time May 15th rolled around, I had worked my way through season 1 on this site. Was I thrilled that I no longer had to? Abso-freaking-lutely. But would I have continued to, if it hadn’t become an option on Netflix? Yeah, I think I probably would have. Why? Why put up with this annoying (and probably illegal) streaming option for a show that I hadn’t even watched as a kid? And once it dropped on Netflix, why was I so hooked? Why was everyone so hooked? For those who don’t know, Avatar: The Last Airbender is an American, anime-style cartoon that ran on Nickelodeon starting in 2005. It takes place in a world with four distinct societies: the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, the Air Nomads, and the Fire Nation. Some people, called benders, can magically manipulate one of the elements. One person every generation, called the Avatar, can manipulate all four elements, and is the only one who can resolve the ongoing war between the Fire Nation and everyone else. The show follows Aang, the current Avatar (and last airbender, hence the name). With the help of his friends, he journeys through the different societies to learn the different elements and eventually defeat the Firelord, thus ending the war. For many of us, spring of 2020 was a time of unprecedented uncertainty. Our lives, which had once been fairly predictable, were suddenly anything but. The normal rules of the world changed. Things that we’d always taken for granted as permanent disappeared. Everything seemed up for question. For those who’d loved ATLA as a kid, the show was a ticket to simpler times. Even I, who had never seen it, felt warm, fuzzy nostalgia for the stories I’d heard about it growing up. The ATLA universe really isn’t any less screwed-up or messy than our own (more on that later), but we see it all through a younger, more innocent lens. Mai may be chucking knives at people, but they always manage to pin the victim’s clothes to the wall, rather than their guts. Likewise, the darker scenes are interspersed with the kind of endearing friendships and goofy kid humor that make everything seem okay. (“My cabbages!!!!”). That being said, some of the themes explored in this cartoon world are anything but lighthearted. At its core, among other things, ATLA is a show about the consequences of war. We see that. There’s death and destruction. We see refugees, colonization, and prisoners of war. We even see Aang grapple with the genocide of his people. In the Earth Kingdom, we get slapped in the face with corruption, bureaucracy, and shady government stuff that rang very true last year. These darker, more complicated themes kept me, as a young adult, genuinely engaged, despite the fact that the show was intended for kids. They made me think and kept me guessing. More importantly, they made the show pack an emotional punch. There’s a reason it’s still taken seriously. The characters are just as complex as the world they inhabit. Somehow, each member of this little animated crew contains multitudes, and once you get a glimpse, you crave episodes like “Zuko Alone” and “The Beach'' even more. The show is full of characters who walk the line between hero and villain. Some, like Jet, whose questionable choices are brought on by the effects of trauma, make us question the line between right and wrong. Others, like Zuko, put us on the edge of our seats, waiting desperately for him to embrace his good side. Zuko’s redemption arch especially hooks us, and when it eventually resolves, it’s so satisfying. Every character wrestles with internal problems of some kind. They argue, they screw up, and sometimes they make wrong choices, but ultimately they’re all lovable and strong in their own way (including the numerous female characters!). In short, they’re real. They gave us something to grab on tight to, and root for. Not to mention, they just made us laugh. I think I speak for more than just me when I say that sometimes, after a long day of quarantining, watching Sokka face-palm at some crazy person was exactly what I needed. At a time when it felt like the world might be ending, ATLA was a safe, nostalgic space to see very real issues reflected. It’s a show about staying strong in the face of fear and impossible odds. It’s both serious and silly, dark and innocent. It’s fun. And above all, it’s hopeful. Really it’s no wonder we all turned to the Gaang for entertainment last year. Like cactus juice, they’re the quenchiest.

Mia Larson-Baldwin April 27, 2021 | 8:23pm EDT I first came to know about the Japanese animation company Studio Ghibli when I was a kid, having watched the English dubbed Ponyo with Noah Cyrus as the main character. I was fascinated with the animation, the bright red for Ponyo’s dress and orange for her hair, and the deep blues that made up the ocean. Everything was simply beautiful, and even for a kid, I followed along with the storyline, sharing the same joy that Ponyo and Sosuke felt, the same tiredness, the same wonder at life. Little did I know, just a few years later, I would be completely in love with the other films coming out of the company and could, and would, feel those exact emotions, once again comforted just by watching. To give some context for these lofty feelings, I’ll begin to explain. The films exist in different fantastical and alluring, yet quotidian, realms: an abandoned night village in Spirited Away, the European countryside in Howl’s Moving Castle, or a floating city in the clouds like in Castle in the Sky, among others. Some of the visions for these films come from books or are based on history, and most of what is considered “the greats” have all been directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Miyazaki, perhaps the most known founder of Studio Ghibli, is an animator, director, screenwriter, artist, producer, you name it. He has worked on countless Ghibli films such as the ones aforementioned, as well as the classic My Neighbor Totoro and Princess Mononoke, to name only a few. Now: why I love these masterpieces. I’ll pick three, even though there are so many more things to love about Studio Ghibli films. First, the visual art style is captivating. As I previously mentioned, many of Studio Ghibli’s most popular films have been directed by Hayao Miyazaki. He brings his unique art style to each story, literally drawing (get it?) inspiration from his early years sketching manga and his world travels. One scene that always gets stuck in my mind is when Howl, the pretty and mysterious main character of Howl’s Moving Castle, takes Sophie to his flower field. There we see a beautiful and sprawling expanse of pink, blue, and yellow flowers being framed by blue ponds and an even bluer cloud-filled sky. Sophie wears a blue dress and mauve ribbon, standing out against the lush green of the field peeking out through the flowers. The second thing I love about Studio Ghibli productions is the music. Each film, though existing in some similar worlds, takes on new life when paired with their musical scores. The brilliant mind we can thank for these soundtracks is Joe Hisaishi, a Japanese composer who has written the scores for a myriad of Ghibli films. I am seriously enamored by the lilting tone of Hisaishi’s Merry Go Round of Life, which is the main theme of Howl’s Moving Castle. Of course, you can’t hear the song I’m talking about and my descriptions can’t do it justice. You actually might have heard it on TikTok as the background to so many hopeful people’s cottage-core dreams. The piano tied with the strings, the rise and fall of the notes, the tempo changes, all come together to make a gorgeous song that many have said they want to be played at their wedding. I don’t think I’d mind that! This song makes me want to be at a ball, twirling around the dance-floor wearing a dress I would probably faint at just by looking at the price tag. Finally, the third thing that makes me gravitate towards stories of cat buses, walking sentient-fire-powered-houses, young witches, and bathhouses for spirits, is that in every scene, I can recognize something so normal. Howl cares about his vanity, so much so that he covers himself in slime and sulks for days on end when something goes wrong. We do that too, sulk and worry about the way we look, sans the slime. In Spirited Away, Chihiro wears a white and green striped shirt that looks curiously similar to one that I had. In Whisper of the Heart, Shizuku rides public transit and chases after a cat. All these little things make Studio Ghibli films so personal and normal, even when mixed in with magic. I find myself drawn towards the quotidian in watching movies, noticing the human-ness of the character’s actions and words. With Studio Ghibli, though I am brought into worlds I have not visited myself, I am always aware of what grounds the story in realism. What might be boring or plain in real life suddenly feels beautiful and important because of the way that each film sheds light on those details, giving them life and meaning and a certain romance. The films say: let yourself fall in love with the ordinary. In high school, I wrote an essay comparing the magical realism that Hayao Miyazaki is so deliberate with in his films to the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s similar usage in his book 100 Years of Solitude. I mean, I was obsessed! I took every opportunity I got to recommend these films to people, tell them my favorites and why I loved them so, just as I am doing now. Now that you’ve heard my three favorite parts of the films, go watch them and find out your own! I promise, they’re worth every bit of your attention and time. Maybe you’ll fall in love just as I did, finding yourself that the characters have a special place in your heart, that when you need comfort, these will be the first anecdote you choose. I hope so. Happy watching!

Grace Hasson April 14, 2021 | 12:40pm EDT The Enneagram Personality Test can be taken on various websites including EclecticEnergies.com (my favorite) as well as Truity.com and The EnneagramInstitute.com. It’s a personality test based in psychology that categorizes people into nine different personality types. However, there are also wings and when you take it you get a list and therefore can figure out a combination of the numbers. After all, personalities are complex, but learning more about yours (and those around you) can actually be life-changing. I have personally learned so much from reading about the personality types that match me and my loved ones. I’ve even delved into watching psychologist Dr. Tom La Hue on his YouTube channel. There are so many ways to learn about the Enneagram whether it’s through Pinterest, YouTube, or various websites. You can even get certified in Enneagram coaching. I’ve learned a lot and I hope more people will discover themselves more through The Enneagram Personality Test. So here is what you can gain from learning your Enneagram! 1. Insight into what fear you’re hiding from About a year ago I discovered my primary personality type is the Enneagram 2, or “The Helper.” This means, at my core of who I am, I wish to be loved and attempt to gain that through helping others. But after watching Tom La Hue’s in depth videos on my Enneagram, I’ve learned that every person struggles from a misbelief. As a Two, I subconsciously feel like I need to be helpful to be loved. I may hide from this by saying I simply help because I like doing it. But in the end, Twos desire appreciation from others for their help. Another thing I’ve learned is that the “sin” (since the Enneagram at one point was a Christian tool) of the Two is pride. Twos believe other people need them more than they need anyone. Knowing the things that drive me subconsciously and what I hide from within myself has opened my eyes quite a bit. So if you want introspection on yourself and what you may be hiding from, The Enneagram is a great tool. Learning more about oneself can lead to having a more fulfilling life. Now that I know I’m afraid of not being loved or needed, I can work to unpack that fear and learn to love myself more. 2. What you truly need to hear We all have things that make us feel good when we hear them. However, there are things that especially help each Enneagram. For the Three, “The Achiever,” they like to hear affirmations and signs of admiration. However, what they need to hear most is that they are loved for who they are, not what they achieve. Learning what you either may not have heard as a child or were never able to internalize can be very healing. Another example would be the Two needs to hear that they are loved for who they are as well, and that whether they help or not they have value and are lovable. What you really need to hear to feel whole is different for each type, but boils down to the fact that every life has value simply because life is special. We are not only loved for our achievements, helpfulness, positivity, or loyalty, we are also loved just for existing. This is an important reminder we may all need to hear. 3. How you can improve As a Two, I tend to be sensitive to criticism. Some of Dr. Tom La Hue’s videos are painful to watch because it’s like looking at a mirror into my mistakes and flaws. But it’s the only way to truly become the healthiest version of myself. Living life at my lowest doesn’t just make my life terrible, but harms the people around me as well. There are so many benefits from learning how to be a better version of yourself. As a Two, I have a hard time voicing my needs. This isn’t just what I’ve read online and heard from Dr. La Hue, it’s an actual fact from my life. I suppress negative emotions and feel like a burden for expressing my needs or negativity. Learning this about myself and being able to name the things I struggle with has helped me immensely with how I can have stronger relationships with others and with myself. Another part of the Enneagram is the wings, which are important for finding balance in life. As a 2w3 (Two Wing Three) I am a Two who also shares traits with Threes. This means I lean to one side more, and on the side I lean away from is the One (it’s in numerical order). If I want to be more balanced I need to lean more towards being like a One and less like a Three. The Enneagram has helped me see myself clearer, and will continue to lead me to improve myself and therefore my life. 4. How you can improve your relationships The Enneagram also explains our ways of moving towards other types when we are healthy and unhealthy. For example, when a Two (The Helper) is unhealthy, they move towards the Eight (The Challenger). This means Twos can suddenly become very confrontational when they have bottled things up too much. Knowing how you act when you’re unhealthy and how your partner or close friends and family act will help you take a step back when you need to. It’s also important to know what it looks like when you’re at your healthiest so that you can see who encourages this in you. For example, as a Two I could hypothetically lose my identity to just wanting to help others and completely lose my sense of self. However, a healthy Two shares traits with a Four (The Individualist). Even as a Two I have a lot of Four (second highest on my results). This means I can tap into my creativity and the things that make me unique, and that when I do so I am accessing a healthy part of myself I truly need. In the end, The Enneagram has taught me so much about myself, my family, and my friends. I’ve learned how to be healthier, happier, and more connected to who I am. I’ve even learned what the people closest to me need and need to hear and how best to add to their lives. I highly recommend discovering your Enneagram and looking into how you can know yourself better. Surely you and your loved ones will be glad you did.

Nikolai Razumov April 13, 2021 | 11:16am EDT Ravenna is a beautiful old city in the region of Emilia-Romagna near the Eastern coast of Italy. It is famous for its many churches, many of which hold the most breathtaking Byzantine mosaics. There are eight UNESCO world heritage sites in Ravenna. Although Ravenna is famous for its early Christian monuments and mosaics, these places are special in their artistic creation alone and I had admired the pictures of these places in my art books and online. My mom loves Italy, she studied abroad there and has visited countless times, so when she invited me to accompany her on a family vacation to Italy in 2019, I was finally able to go to Ravenna myself. We visited some of these incredible places during our day trip there. The exteriors of these magnificent religious monuments are impressive, but not as remarkable as the beauty that they hold inside. The first place we visited was the Basilica of San Vitale. This was the place I wanted to visit most. Beautiful mosaics cover the walls and columns, shimmering in green and gold. It is a grand building with multiple entrances and levels, making it feel airy and inviting. My favorite part of this basilica was how there were multiple portraits of holy figures in circles upon an arch. Below is an image of San Vitale. The second place we visited was the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. It is on the grounds of the Basilica of San Vitale and is composed of the most vibrant cobalt blue tiles. The mosaics completely cover the ceiling in this structure and the windows are made from alabaster. I loved the animal and angel depictions in this monument the most. Below is an image featuring the blue tiles of the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. The third place we went was the Basilica of Sant’apollinare Nuovo. This is one of the most photographed basilicas that I have seen. The nave is open with panels of golden mosaics which gleam in the sunlight from the windows. I loved how the rectangular panels seemed to be telling a story like a scroll. Below is an image of the Basilica. Italy is full of art everywhere you go, not just in holy places or museums. Village gates, tombs, streets and shops are decorated with beautiful pieces from history. It was a treasure to go and I think that Ravenna is a destination that everyone should check out if they happen to stay in Italy. Despite these mosaics depicting religious imagery, they can be appreciated by people from all walks of life. Awe inspiring, glittering, magnificent Ravenna.

Clare Wiesen April 12, 2021 | 11:33pm EDT Contemporary art has always been terrifying to me. I pictured abstract installations making social commentary that went right over my head, so I thought it was safer to stick with the popular classics that I knew and loved. Popular media shows the art world as super rich and super white, which is partly true, but there are also a massive number of contemporary artists today whose work is relevant to the lives of people who don’t go into galleries and casually purchase a painting for thousands of dollars. My fear with contemporary art was getting it “wrong.” People can talk all day about their love for iconic artists like Frida Kahlo or Michaelangelo because there is validation for that love in every major museum. These artists have secured their place in the canon of art history, so people know their love for the work is justified or “correct.” Most artists working today don’t have that security because their work hasn’t yet, and probably never will, sell for millions of dollars at Christie’s or hang in the MoMA. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize getting it “wrong” doesn’t exist. I was letting the fear that people would think I had bad taste dictate what work I admired. Once I decided that I didn’t need elitist critics telling me what to like and what to hate, I still had no idea how to find contemporary artists who I liked. It took some trial and error, but now I follow a wide range of living artists whose work I obsess over. If you’re really serious about contemporary art, look to the art sections of websites like Hyperallergic or ARTnews, but if you want a more casual approach to contemporary art but don’t know where to start, here are my tips. Use Instagram! While the platform has turned into an online shopping platform as of late, Instagram is an amazing tool for connecting with contemporary art. Because it is likely already part of your routine to check the app, following curators, art lovers, or artists themselves puts a little taste of art into your daily life without being overwhelming. Some accounts that have been particularly helpful to me are @museummammy (Kimberly Drew) and @thegreatwomenartists (Katy Hessel). While they post about some historic artists as well, their content about contemporary art has led me to some amazing artists. Following contemporary art museums like the Hirshorn in DC or the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston is also a great place to start, but also look for museums in your region to find local artists. Start specific. There is a massive amount of art being created today, so go in with some intentions. If you like art about a certain social justice issue, start there. If you’re a fan of photography, start by finding one photographer whose work moves you. Get as niche as you want because I guarantee there is something out there. I started by looking into queer portraiture, and now I’m in love with the work of Jenna Gribbon and Clifford Prince King, two artists I will never shut up about. Go to contemporary art museums. This might seem obvious, but I realized I’ve been to the National Gallery five times for every time I’ve visited the Hirshorn. Look for specific exhibitions that speak to your interests or scroll through the museum’s online catalogue to familiarize yourself if wandering around with no plan is too overwhelming. Find a certain style of art you like. There is a misconception that all contemporary art is abstract, but this could not be farther from the truth. If you like abstract art, go for it, but if you also find it scary like I do, there is plenty out there for you too. If you like the colors and textures of Van Gogh, artists like Salman Toor are a great place to start. If you like textile art, Bisa Butler and Faig Ahmed are both artists whose work I could stare at for hours. Contemporary art is exciting because it can reflect on the very conditions in which we’re living right now. There is nothing wrong with loving the classics, but throwing in some contemporary artists into the usual rotation of Monet, Van Gogh, or Picasso can let you expand your view of art and find art that resonates with how you see the world at this specific moment.

Grace Collins April 11, 2021 | 11:58am EDT It’s finally spring in D.C! The cherry blossoms are blooming and so are our hearts. Daffodils, hyacinths, pear trees, periwinkles, and magnolias are popping up everywhere and reminding us why we love this city in the first place. However, did you know that many of these flowers have hidden meanings? Floriology is a term describing the language of flowers. Throughout history, different cultures have used flowers as subtle symbols in art and even used them to convey secret messages. Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Chinese, Europeans, and many more all have developed their own language of flowers. In Egypt, flowers were very abundant along the Nile. The lotus flower was culturally important, symbolizing Upper Egypt while papyrus was the symbol of Lower Egypt. Lotus flowers or water lilies symbolize rebirth, as they close at night and bloom again during the day. They were also associated with the sun god, Ra. Flowers in general represented the divine, and were used as offerings or worn during important ceremonies. In China, flowers are important themes in art and literature. Lotus flowers are also important in Buddhism, symbolizing love and unity. Lilies and orchids are very popular, symbolizing happiness and good luck. The color of flowers is also important to their meaning. For example, pink usually means celebration, yellow is wealth, white is for purity, and red signifies compassion or longevity. In Victorian times, flowers were used to send chaste messages and even carry out complex secret conversations in a society with strict social guidelines. They allowed flirtation and gossip without detection or judgment. Handing someone a flower with the left hand meant “no,” while handing it to them with the right hand meant “yes.” Presenting it upside down reversed the traditional meaning of the flower. For example, a hydrangea could mean either gratitude or heartlessness depending on how it is arranged. Different ways of tying the bouquet could change the meaning of the message as well to refer to the giver or receiver. Specific types and colors of flowers have their own meanings as well. A bouquet of flowers can convey a whole bunch of meanings. Read below to find the Victorian meanings of some of your favorite flowers! Carnation - Love White clover - Think of me Crocus - Youthful gladness Daffodil - Love and respect Daisy - Innocence and hope Goldenrod - Good luck Hibiscus - Beauty Purple hyacinth - Sorrow Yellow hyacinth - Jealousy White hyacinth - Sending prayers Lavender - Mistrust Lilac - Youth Lotus - Purity and enlightenment Marigold - Grief, jealousy Morning glory - Affection Pink rose - Happiness Yellow rose - Jealousy, infidelity Sunflower - Adoration Violet - Loyalty Sources: https://www.almanac.com/flower-meanings-language-flowers https://www.proflowers.com/blog/floriography-language-flowers-victorian-era https://www.privatetoursinegypt.com/Flowers-in-Ancient-Egypt-attraction211 https://florgeous.com/chinese-flowers/

Sana Mamataney April 10, 2021 | 12:28pm EDT Reality TV-- it’s commonly thought of as a “guilty pleasure.” Keeping Up With the Kardashians, Love Island, Marriage or Mortgage, Love is Blind, RuPaul’s Drag Race, are all supposed to be embarrassing to admit that you watch. For me, though, reality TV is an escape from reality itself. Recently, Marriage or Mortgage on Netflix has been the way I unwind at night before I go to bed. In Nashville, a realtor and a wedding planner compete for a couple’s business with a budget to be used for a wedding or a down payment on a house. This reality TV show is one of the less raunchy ones--it’s less frowned upon, essentially. But that doesn’t mean that reality dating shows or celebrity reality shows should be the embarrassing “guilty pleasure” that they are. Oftentimes, the people featured on reality shows are enormously privileged. Take the Kardashian's, for example. The Kardashian's are so privileged that they were able to go away on vacation multiple times with friends during a pandemic. Kendall Jenner filmed a commercial for Pepsi that depicted her solving the issue of police brutality by handing a police officer a can of the drink. Still, their show on E! receives high ratings, and on social media, the Kardashian's are some of the most followed people in the world. The Kardashian's, like many other celebrities who have their own reality shows, are watched so much, not necessarily because they are well-liked, but because they are interesting. Watching celebrities live their lives gives us normal people a break from ours for an hour or so. It’s fun--it gives us a break from thinking about school, money, resumes, jobs -- the things that we deal with on a daily basis that we just wish we didn’t have to deal with. In a way, reality TV allows us to live vicariously through someone else for a little bit. The same goes for other reality TV shows, like dating shows such as Love Island, Love is Blind, Too Hot to Handle, and notoriously, The Bachelor. For some reason, these shows are enthralling-- you just can’t look away. Like celebrity reality shows, these dating shows give us a break from reality-- frankly, we can make fun of the contestants, place our bets on who ends up with who, and just take a break from thinking about the big things in our lives. With regular TV shows, dramas can become too heavy, and sometimes, even sitcoms are too much to think about. I always say that reality TV lets me turn my brain off for a little bit--and that’s not such a bad thing. Especially during the pandemic, many of us have merely become creatures of productivity. Reality TV lets me take a break from all the difficult, monotonous things going on. It may be my “guilty pleasure,” but at the end of the day, it gives me some relief-- I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about that, and neither should you.

Katie Meyerson April 6, 2021 | 1:49pm EDT A lot of people have heard of Laika, the famous Soviet space dog whose death has sparked the telling and retelling of her story as a tragic example of using animals in scientific endeavors. When telling her story, however, there tends to be a lot of other dogs left out of the story, both before and after her mission in Sputnik II. I work at the National Air and Space Museum, and here is my telling of the Soviet space dogs’ stories. During the Cold War, America and the Soviet Union were pitted against one another on a global stage to outperform one another in every arena possible. This led to events like the Vietnam War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the Space Race. While many of the competitions-made-altercations in the Cold War were to demonstrate prowess in ideological, political, or military power, the Space Race was unique in that it mainly sought to demonstrate technological power. The Space Race has historically been one of the only times in American history when NASA was funded and average people were excited and informed about the endeavors of our space program. When JFK addressed the nation in 1961, the race itself became quantifiable as a competition to see which country could put a man on the Moon. Before human spaceflight could be possible or even attempted, however, scientists in both countries had to test their spacecraft and life support systems with animal subjects. The first animals in space were actually fruit flies, not dogs or monkeys. In terms of the Soviet Union’s space dogs, however, the first pair to be sent to space were two dogs named Tsygan and Dezik in 1951. They were launched into a sub orbital flight pattern, meaning that they did not reach “past” the earth’s atmosphere and did not go high enough to orbit the Earth. A suborbital flight is about 62 miles above the Earth’s surface. The pair of dogs landed safely, were recovered successfully from the spacecraft, and Tsygan was adopted by a physicist who worked on the project. The two were titled “the world’s first dogmonauts”. After Tsygan and Dezik came lots of other dog pairs, all of which were sent into suborbital flight patterns in the same way. What makes Laika different is not that she was the first or the last, but that she was the first dog to be launched into low Earth orbit. Low Earth orbit is about where the ISS orbits now, and is around 225 miles above the Earth’s surface. For the first low Earth orbit flight, it was imperative that the Soviet Union had a dog that was the correct size and weight, as they did not have the jet or fuel technology to launch very much weight. When looking for a dog to fit the specifications for this mission, the Soviet Union scoured the streets of Moscow for small, female, stray dogs. Female dogs are normally smaller and more passive, making for a perfect weight and a better temperament. After rounding up and bringing in around 50 candidates, the scientists began to narrow them down based on temperament. They exposed the dogs to the various stressors they might experience in the shuttle to see which dogs adapted the best to the stressors and which could not handle them. Some of these stressors included loud noises, changes in air pressure, and cramped or confined spaces. Soviet scientists wanted to see what worked in the shuttle and what didn’t, and they wanted to do it as quickly as possible to get the data they needed for further testing with larger payloads, eventually leading up to the first man launched into space (Yuri Gagarin). Because of this time crunch and a lack of powerful jet technology, the first Soviet low Earth orbit trip was predetermined to be a one-way journey. The scientists knew that they could not fit any landing gear onto the shuttle without exceeding the weight capacity, and they didn’t have time to further develop more lightweight options. Unfortunately for Laika, her handlers knew she would never be coming home after her launch. Laika was one of the final two dogs in the running for the Sputnik II mission, along with a dog named Albina. Some scientists even recall that Albina outperformed Laika in some tests, but was spared because of the attachment the mission staff had to her. She had just had a litter of puppies, and she captured the hearts of the researchers working on her mission. For this reason, Laika (whose name translates to “barker”) was chosen instead. Even though the researchers in charge of Sputnik II knew that they were sentencing Laika to death, they wanted her to have a good life until the very end. One of the scientists recalled taking her home for a few weeks to treat her like a normal dog before launch, and another snuck her a last meal even though she was intended to be fasting in order to maintain the correct baseline weight. The scientists had every intent of making sure that Laika died a painless death, with some accounts claiming that they intended to wait for her oxygen to run out and others claiming that they had a system which would have dispensed her poisoned food that would have quickly euthanized her. Both methods would have ended her life painlessly, especially that of oxygen deprivation, which has the same effect as falling asleep and never waking up. Unfortunately, spaceflight is almost never without its hurdles and struggles, and all the preparation in the world could not have helped Laika to reach the six or seven days she was supposed to live through before passing away. As soon as the capsule launched, Laika began to panic and her heart rate tripled. As she panicked, the heat shield faulted and fell apart, causing the temperature to rise quickly inside of the capsule. With the heat shield quickly depleting and Laika panicking, the capsule reached an internal temperature of 90 degrees Fahrenheit and Laika passed away within 5-7 hours of her launch. Declassified records of her heart monitor are in the possession of the National Air and Space Museum, but I wouldn’t recommend looking for them unless you’re prepared to cry. Laika did die alone and scared, and her sacrifice is still remembered today in statues, textbooks, and she is commemorated with namesake family pets even to this day. The Soviet Union falsified the information that was given to the public and instead reported that Laika lived in the shuttle from November 3rd to November 12th before dying a painless death. In reality, she passed in under eight hours and Sputnik II continued to orbit with her inside of it for five months before it crashed into the atmosphere and burned up. Laika’s legacy has led to some of the most important innovations in spaceflight, and ironically proved that life in orbit COULD be accomplished with the proper life support. Laika’s bravery and sacrifice are not tangible things, but her memory still affects almost everyone who studies space, spaceflight, or aeronautics. I know from my experience at work that visitors ask about her all the time, even though she died at the age of three in 1957. After Laika, there were more missions with Soviet space dogs that have much happier endings. There were several more low risk missions in suborbital flight patterns before the next attempt to send any pups into low Earth orbit, which occurred again in 1960. In 1960, two stray dogs named Belka and Strelka became the first dogs to orbit the Earth and safely return to its surface. Strelka went on to have puppies, one of which was named Pushinka, or “fluffy”. In the photos to the left, Belka is the white dog and Strelka is the multicolored dog. During a summit between the Kennedys and Kruschev, the Premier of the Soviet Union at the time, Jackie Kennedy expressed an interest in the Soviet space dogs. As a result, Kruschev sent Pushinka to the Kennedys as a gift, and after she was scanned for explosives, tracking devices, or spyware, she was adopted into the Kennedy family alongside their family dog, Charlie. Below are photos of Pushinka as an adult dog, and Charlie. In what was later called a “Cold War romance”, Charlie and Pushinka went on to have four puppies: Streaker, Blackie, Butterfly, and White Tips (the Kennedys’ strong suit was apparently not in their ability to name things). These puppies, called the “pupniks” were adored by the American public, and over 10,000 people wrote to the White House asking to adopt one of the four pups. Jackie Kennedy asked her staffers to narrow those letters down to ten children, two of which were gifted pupniks of their own. Butterfly and Streaker were gifted to two American families while both Blackie and White Tips were gifted to family friends. Because no one kept track of their lineage, descendents of the Muttniks tracing all the way back to Strelka in 1960 are probably beloved family dogs with no way to determine what legacy they came from. Hey, it might even be your pup! Citations: https://stacker.com/stories/3538/history-dogs-space?page=3 https://www.space.com/17764-laika-first-animals-in-space.html https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/sad-story-laika-space-dog-and-her-one-way-trip-orbit-1-180968728/ https://john-f-kennedy-and-his-family.tumblr.com/post/40293715405/hyannismass-compound-pups-to-lucky-kids-these https://www.presidentialpetmuseum.com/pets/butterfly-white-tips-blackie-streaker/ https://www.presidentialpetmuseum.com/pets/jfk-welsh-terrier-charlie/