Do It This Weekend: Ohiolina

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Did someone say…white people in Indian headdresses doing stimulants in the California desert? You mean… Coachella? Not quite! We’re talking about Ohiolina, the local music festival that’s happening this weekend at Ariel Foundation Park presumably featuring less cultural appropriation and recreational drug use. I went my freshman year and had a bomb pulled pork sandwich and jammed out to some banjo bops.

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It Happened To Me: I Developed a Smoking Habit and Declared an Art Minor



Poorly photoshopped by the author, via and


I am a woman of simple pleasures. I enjoy sleeping in late on Sunday afternoons to find that my eyeliner has smeared all over my pillow case. I take pleasure in the smell of freshly wet, musty clothes I attempt to dry in the Old K laundry room. I like the bitter, burnt taste of the coffee from Peirce. I like life. Life is good. But I apparently hate myself.

The smoking habit follows a simple trajectory: I smoked while drunk. I would hit up literally anyone available on the patios at parties for a cig, and I’d shame myself in the morning for doing so. I am an independent woman! I shouldn’t be asking anyone for a cigarette! So I bought my own. Soon I found myself smoking while walking to class. Now I find myself smoking outside the library hoping my life morphs into a Greta Gerwig film.

I’ve never considered myself an “art person.” I cannot draw, I cannot paint. I do not have any stick and poke tattoos. I don’t wear those clogs, I don’t carry a Fjallraven Kanken. I like art, I suppose. I’ve been to the MoMA, I’ve nodded and hummed when my friends would comment on “the real message” behind feces smeared on a wall. I am currently enrolled in two art classes, one that counts towards my film major, Digital Imaging and one for fun, Book Arts. I like these classes. I like collaging and taking saucy selfies and photoshopping fire coming out of my eyes. If that is considered art, then so be it. If that is art, then I can do it. Heck, I can even minor in it!

There you have it. I am a girl who constantly wears a trench coat who has a nose ring and an eyebrow piercing. I am a girl who constantly appears to be slightly pissed off, who wears a lot of black, who uses a Glossier pouch as a pencil case. I am a girl you will see smoking outside the library, outside Horvitz. I am a stereotype. I am finally self-aware.

I am Stupid, but the Health Center is Not


Over the summer I had sex without a condom with a boy I did not know who had a lighter covered in Kanye West album art and wrote bad poetry. Needless to say, it was not one of my finest moments, but it happened, and I didn’t think much of it. I got to school and classes started, and things were great until my period was a day late. Naturally, I freaked out. I knew I was plain stupid for not using a condom, to begin with, and the mere idea of being pregnant with a child whose father I blocked on Twitter and hates Lil Yachty made me sick inside. Even though my period was only a day late, I convinced myself and everyone around me that I was roughly 25% sure I pregnant, and that I potentially had an STI. I would not sleep well until I knew I was zygote and disease free, so I went to the health center as soon as I could.

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10 o’clock List: How to Entertain Your Parents This Weekend


The author with her parents

It’s that time of year again, when campus is full of people who are not students but probably wish they still were. They dress nicer than you. They are kind of old. They wear trendy glasses (tortoise shell or clear) and use trays in Peirce. There is not enough parking for their Subarus and Audi station wagons. They are your parents, and they are coming. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do with your parents for a whole weekend, (how did they entertain you for your 20 something years?), but here are some ideas.

  1. Go to Walmart and make them buy you mini doughnuts, condoms, and Capri-Sun pacific coolers.
  2. Show them the stain on your comforter where you spilled blood and red wine while trying to use your roommate’s sword to open a bottle of Barefoot via information provided in this NPR article because now you go to a liberal arts school and read NPR.

  3. Hit the VI and bring your friends so they can assess the stability of the new support system you have transitioned to while enjoying tater tots and macaroni and cheese.

  4. Point out the desk in the library where you cried over that econ midterm, which will soon be destroyed, because, if you didn’t know, the 2020 plan is ruining lives!

  5. Take them to the upside down tree and leave them there. They will be lost. Come back for them later if you so please.

Looking Inside the Annual Senior Student Exhibition



Students, family and faculty observe the senior art majors’  work.


Meg Gardella, Untitled Movement VII, 2016














As someone who can draw a mediocre stick figure at best, seeing the projects my peers created makes me quite envious of their talent. The annual Senior Student Exhibition Opening Reception at Gund Gallery was last night, and features a variety of installations done by the 16 senior Studio Art majors. I had the pleasure of viewing the projects and asking some of the artists about their inspiration, process and more.

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