Contributors Allison Tovey Founder and Editor Kaitlyn Tiffany Haley Howard Jaylee Sanders
Cara Bloom Angel Sunlight Giulia Giordo
Thalia Garoufaldis
Izze G
Miles Palminteri
Lauren Woodzicka
Issy Medworth
Danielle Holmberg
Todd Swenke
Quentin Swenke
Zoe Palminteri
Viviana G
Contents Allison Tovey – Beyond Clueless ……………...Page 4 Issy Medworth – Losing You …………………..Page 10 Cara Bloom – Teenage Runaway ……………. Page 16 Quentin Swenke- Mega Babes On The Run …...Page 26 Haley Howard- Room Serviced ………………..Page 30 Thalia Garoufaldis…...........................................Page 36 Kaitlyn Tiffany – That Grrrl Thinks She’s The Queen Of The Neighborhood ……………………………. Page 37 Miles Palminteri- Blue Boys ……………… ......Page 43 Zoe Palminteri- Boobs- Sexy Or Stress-Inducing?..Page 47 Todd Swenke- Spooky Ghost………………….. Page 48 Jaylee Sanders- Rad Playlist ………………........Page 50 Viviana G- Chemi ………………………………Page 51 Lauren Woodzicka- Dear Diary ………………. Page 52 Giulia Giordo- Bliss and Ecstatic ……………....Page 60 Giulia Giordo- Play, Pause, Stop………………..Page 62 *Angel Sunlight- Viva La Glam …..…………... Page 63 Danielle Holmberg- Missed Connections ……. .Page 68 Izze G- Dermatillomania…………………….. ..Page 77 Kaitlyn Tiffany- Living In The Moment …….... Page 79 Allison Tovey- Visual Diary: DC Trip ………… Page 85
* Trigger Warning
Beyond Clueless
Allison Tovey
April Favorites Playlist Beyond Clueless // Summer Camp Let Her Go // Mac DeMarco Magic Man // Heart Senses Working Overtime // XTC Everybody Wants To Rule The World // Tears For Fears Lady Grinning Soul // David Bowie Crimson and Clover // Joan Jett Tame Impala // Sunflower Bean Perfect Day // Lou Reed
Losing You
by Issy Medworth
Teenage Runaway
Styled by Cara Bloom
Photographed by Bobby Prom
Modeled by Shawnee Bader
Mega Babes On The Run Quentin Swenke
Room Serviced By Haley Howard
“When I moved out of my parents house a year and some months ago, I had built myself a huge shrine to all of the things I love.�
�I
do almost everything for nostalgia's sake so I brought everything in my room along with me.�
“I am inspired by other girls'
rooms and I love when I see girls decorating their rooms and having fun with their own space.�
Thalia Garoufalidis
THAT GRRRL THINKS SHE’S THE QUEEN OF THE NEIGHBOORHOOD The rise and fall of my friendship with a “Rebel Girl” By: Kaitlyn Tiffany Our friendship started in the fall of my freshman year. We were in the same health class and she approached me because she noticed my Led Zeppelin shirt from across the room. We started texting and we had almost everything in common and her house was in walking distance of mine. She instantly wanted me to come over to her house all the time after school and I had always been a goody-two-shoes who dreamed of being a bad-ass and she was exactly everything I wanted to be. It was a magical time where I learned so much about music and the world. Months went by and we had a blast. We started making a movie together, we went roller-skating, and just walked around town and did what we wanted to. This was completely new to me. We had even made a plan to move to California when we graduated and buy a beach house together. This was so great until I realized that she was changing. She started to hang out with a bad crowd in school. She started heavy drinking, smoking, and having sex with who ever asked. She acted differently around me and the “Rebel Girl” I thought I knew was gone.
She had a hard family life and didn’t even know her biological father which I am sure didn’t make it any easier. One day some guy picked her up from school in the middle of the day and she consumed several shots of vodka within an hour; she could have ended up in the hospital. That was when I had to speak up. I told her how much she was concerning me and how much I cared. She thought I was judging her and she probably thought I was a loser or something. I told her I wanted to focus on school because I have huge dreams and aspirations and she was going down a path that I wanted no part of. We haven’t spoken since. I see her in the halls from time to time but its as if we had never met and it was all just one big Technicolor dream. Our friendship changed me so much. It has honestly shaped who I am and I gained so much of my confidence with her help. In movies and music we see this rebel teen figure as someone we want to be but through what I have experienced, I realized that there is nothing wrong or uncool about loving your family and getting good grades. When you graduate from college you will be thankful that you didn’t get sucked down a road of destruction. Also all seriousness aside, I do love me a good punk rock movie. Even though it is a bit dramatized here are some of my favorite films that will suffice your hunger for rebellion (without the consequences).
Hick (2011) dir. Derick Martini When a Nebraskan teenager named Luli (ChloĂŤ Grace Moretz) decides to run away from her home she encounters some obstacles and a few eccentric people along the way.
The Runaways (2010) dir. Floria Sigismondi A coming-of-age biographical film about the 1970s teenage all-girl rock band The Runaways. This film also explores the relationship between band members Joan Jett and Cherie Currie.
Almost Famous (2000) dir. Cameron Crowe A high-school boy is given the chance to write a story for Rolling Stone Magazine about an up-andcoming rock band as he accompanies it on their concert tour.
The Young Runaways (1968) dir. Arthur Dreifuss Follows the lives of three unrelated teenagers as they run away from their respective homes, each for different reasons.
The Doom Generation (1995) dir. Gregg Araki Jordan White and Amy Blue, two troubled teens, pick up an adolescent drifter, Xavier Red. Together, the threesome embark on a sex and violence-filled journey through an America of psychos and quickiemarts.
SLC Punk (1998) dir. James Merendino Two former geeks become 1980s punks, then party and go to concerts while deciding what to do with their lives.
Whip It! (2009) dir. Drew Barrymore In Bodeen, Texas, an indie-rock loving misfit finds a way of dealing with her small-town misery after she discovers a roller derby league nearby Austin.
The Craft (1996) dir. Andrew Fleming A newcomer to a Catholic prep high school falls in with a trio of outcast teenage girls who practice witchcraft and they all soon conjure up various spells and curses against those who even slightly anger them.
Crossroads (2002) dir. Tamara Davis Three childhood best friends, and a guy they just met, take a road trip across country, finding themselves and their friendship in the process.
Ghost World (2001) dir. Terry Zwigoff With only the plan of moving in together after high school, two unusually devious friends seek direction in life. As a mere gag, they respond to a man’s newspaper ad for a date, only to find it will greatly complicate their lives.
The Punk Singer (2013) dir. Sini Anderson A look at the life of activist, musician, and cultural icon, Kathleen Hanna, who formed the punk band Bikini Kill and pioneered the "riot grrrl" movement of the 1990s.
The Graduate (1967) dir. Mike Nichols Recent college graduate, Benjamin Braddock, is trapped into an affair with Mrs. Robinson, who happens to be the wife of his father's business partner, and then finds himself falling in love with her daughter, Elaine.
Boobs: Sexy or Stress Inducing? I am a strong, independent woman who is learning to accept and love my flaws and everything about myself, but there is just one thing I can’t get over: boobs. I feel like in society it’s not entirely ok to write or talk about something as *gasp* scandalous as boobs, but hey, I’m all for making people uncomfortable. I hate my boobs with a burning passion and I will do anything to get rid of those suckers. I know that some people really like boobs and yeah they do have a function, but they make everything such a struggle. I mean they are literally just large, floppy, heavy, sack-like things on my chest and they are not fun. Since the age of about ten years old, I did notice that I was maturing and growing at a faster pace than my friends and peers. I remember the first time I went for a bra fitting-it was the most horrifying thing that I had ever experienced. I don’t want to get into the gruesome details, but let me just say that when a salesperson puts a measuring tape around my top and is basically touching my boobs in a store in public, I wanted to scream.
I am still young, only sixteen, but I feel that the amount of stress that a part of my body, something that I can’t control, has caused me is unhealthy. For one thing, I feel like if I am not completely covered up and I’m not hiding my boobs, I’ll be perceived as someone/something that I don’t want to be perceived as. I don’t want to look sexy and I don’t really want people to think that I am trying to show off, because in reality I am trying to do the complete opposite. This could just be me being completely paranoid, but if clothes were made to fit every body type comfortably and appropriately, then I would have less of an issue. This is completely embarrassing and probably unnecessary, but for about three or so years I have worn two bras everywhere in an attempt to flatten my ‘girls’. It may sound totally bizarre, but it’s the only time that I feel somewhat secure and comfortable. The biggest issue for me has been swimsuits. I have never found a swimsuit that has fit me, and all my boobage well, but when I have, I feel completely disgusting in it. I have succumbed to wearing swimsuits that have been designed for swimmers to wear because they kind of suck everything in. I am not a swimmer, and quite frankly I don’t think those bathing suits are cute at all. I like to think of my body as normal, I’m not over or underweight, but these goddamn boobs cause so many issues. I have cried in dressing rooms, gone to tons of stores and tried on tons of swimsuits and find nothing.
This process has occurred repeatedly for the past five years or so. I have finally found one bathing suit that I actually don’t hate how I look in but girl, my boobs are just on there for display. I recently went on vacation and I had to wear my hair down to cover my boobs so no one would look at them. I envy women with small breasts lounging around in string bikinis without a care in the world or internal fear that something is going to pop out or a worry that people are thinking that I am trying to put my body on display. I am completely aware that there are many issues, issues far more severe and important that my larger than average boobs, but that is important to me. Despite my hostility towards my boobs, I am slowly learning to accept my body and reassure myself that I am beautiful just the way I am. If anyone is struggling with this problem or has any insecurity at all about their bodies, remember that you are a beautiful, interesting and a fabulous person. You should remember that you are you, unique and fantastic, despite any minuscule flaw. I am slowly teaching myself that I don’t need to alter my body or go out of my way to conceal something natural; I have to accept what I was given and learn how to appreciate and be confident of my body.
~ Zoe Palminteri
Spooky Ghost by Todd Swenke
by Jaylee Sanders
by Viviana G
Dear Diary
Words by Lauren Woodzicka Writing and Decoration by Allison Tovey
Playlists by Giulia Giordo
Play, Pause, Stop My psychologist tells me to allocate Worry Time. 20 minutes to write everything down. Then let it go. She laughs and says “Do you have 20 minutes of content in your head?” I laugh because I have hours. She asks if I’ll try it. I say yes. One part because I’m sure she is sick of not finding solutions and one part because I want to go home. But now that I’m home I’m not sure where to schedule my Worry Time. Do I have it when I wake up and I can’t get out of bed or do I wait until the first time I look in the mirror. Or when I’m standing in the kitchen trying to decide what to have for breakfast. Or if I should have breakfast. Maybe when my wardrobe holds nothing that makes me look skinnier. Maybe the second time I look in the mirror. Or the third. Or the seventh time I check my wallet is in my bag or the fourth and fifth time I look in the mirror. Or when I’m walking down the street trying to remember whether I locked the front door.
Maybe when I drop my ticket on the crowded train or when I walk up the main street at rush hour. Maybe when I walk into class or when I have to answer the tutor’s question. No I’m gonna save it for the stranger who sits next to me on the train ride home and the list of assignments in my bag. Or the phone call I can’t answer and the excuse I can’t think of for why I can’t go out on Saturday night. Or when my sister comes home and I remember my second inpatient stint drove her to her own therapy sessions. She is laced her with anxiety. Or dinner time. Homework time. Midnight. When I can hear my sister crying in her bedroom. She craves sleep. This isn’t her scheduled Worry Time. Because it doesn’t work like that. Mental illness doesn’t come with a pause button. Depression didn’t give me the day off on my sister’s birthday. Anorexia didn’t let me finish my ballet exams. Anxiety didn’t wait for the end of the school year. There is no time sheet. Because if there was. We all would’ve punched in “0 hours” years ago.
Giulia Giordo
4/7/15 I woke up to the violent raining hitting the window. The darkness of the sky crept through the drawn blinds and in the distance I could hear a rooster crowing the morning’s beginning. There aren’t roosters where I’m from. Then I saw the body laying next to me. Naked and guilty. I felt my stomach cramp up and a sourness came over me. "Asa." I nudged him. "Asa, I feel sick." I sat up suddenly and got off the mattress that lay bare and sheetless and I ran to the bathroom. I leaned over the sink, the cold porcelain resting against my bare stomach as I threw up the contents of the night before, a dangerous amount of Budweiser and phlegm and stomach acid and whatever else had been in my system. A twinge of confusion rushed over me as I walked back into the room and laid down on the mattress. "Are you okay?" He mumbled. "I just threw up." I laid my body next to his as he reached down and began to rub my stomach in the most caring way anyone’s ever rubbed my stomach before. I slipped back into sleep. The weekend before the rape my father took me into the city to see the final weeks of the Keith Haring exhibit in Golden Gate Park. The paintings of capitalism and greed and of Hell and AIDS hung on the walls as my father and I walked through the De Young. Everything was so beautiful---from the sculptures to the newspaper headline collages to the old Polaroid pictures of Keith and Madonna that were displayed proudly behind the glass case.
Before we left my father took my photo next to the Andy Warhol/Mickey Mouse painting. I still have the picture, me in my blue jeans and black turtleneck, a beam of excitement crept across my face as the camera clicked. The face holds a certain type of innocence that will never be returned. Next to the Mickey Mouse painting hung the bright, cherry red painting of Keith Haring’s depiction of 1980’s Hell. Demons and naked men danced around the massive fires. I stood in front of it for a while and just watched. After we left the museum we drove down to the beach and smoked a joint, watching a few surfers out in the cold winds. The bath was cold. Probably as cold as the Bay was for the surfers that weekend before. I submerged myself in the water as if I were a mermaid. As if I could wash away what that boy was about to do to me. Asa and I had went to his apartment to drink 40 ounce beers. It was the weekend before Valentine's Day. I ran into him at the BART station, or rather, he ran up to me and grabbed me. “Oh my god! You surprised me! Hi, Asa! How are you?” I asked. Asa had been the guitarist in a band with my best friend, Daniel, when we were still in high school. I trusted him. We waited for the bus together and after I had paid and walked to the back of the bus I turned around and saw Asa begin to sit down but then look back at me. I shrugged. “You can come sit with me.” As we talked he asked me if I wanted to hang out, that we could grab some beer. I didn't want to go home, I was in a good mood. I had just gotten back from a day of shopping in San Francisco and wanted a drink, so I took Asa up on his offer. That last hour or two had been filled with Gangsta rap...Eazy E and others as Asa and I drank the beer and talked. He told me he was heartbroken over a girl and asked me how to make it better. He told me about his father and his abandonment and about how he thought the friends we had in common weren't really his friends. I had opened up to Asa, too---I told him about how I was molested when I was a little girl by someone my father had known.
As we talked he asked me if I wanted to hang out, that we could grab some beer. I didn't want to go home, I was in a good mood. I had just gotten back from a day of shopping in San Francisco and wanted a drink, so I took Asa up on his offer. That last hour or two had been filled with Gangsta rap...Eazy E and others as Asa and I drank the beer and talked. He told me he was heartbroken over a girl and asked me how to make it better. He told me about his father and his abandonment and about how he thought the friends we had in common weren't really his friends. I had opened up to Asa, too---I told him about how I was molested when I was a little girl by someone my father had known. Now laying in the bathtub I was in my purest, most absolute vulnerable state...naked and cold and drunker than I'd ever been in my life. Asa asked me earlier if he could "just finger me for practice" but I laughed off what I had thought had been a joke. Now as I stumbled back into his bedroom in the empty apartment of his grandmother’s, I realized this was no joke. I sat down on the edge of bed and wrapped my denim Beastie Boys jacket around my body. He said something stupid about me taking a cold bath as I shivered so I said, with a small laugh, "Warm me up, then.” Asa got on top of me then, pushing me on the bed, my back up against the bare mattress. "Oh no....no...Asa I didn't mean like this....no. Asa I don't want to have sex." I said over and over as he pinned my arms down and a struggle ensued. I tried to fight myself away from him, tried desperately to push off this animal that was grinding up against my wet, naked body but it was too late. I don't remember how he got inside of me but I remember it hurting. Bad. "Asa....Asa.” I looked him in the eye. “It hurts. It hurts. It hurts so badly." I told him over and over. He looked into my eyes. "Awww just take it, baby." "Asa---Asa, please." I would plead. "Call me daddy." He responded. Finally I said, "Please, Asa, please---just give me a break. I need to piss. I need to piss so bad." And maybe he felt bad for me or maybe he just didn't want me to piss on the bare mattress, because he let me go. He looked pulled out and looked down at me. "Well, hurry up," he directed me. "I'm not done yet."
When I went back into the bedroom there was more sex....a lot more. Half unconscious, drunk, nonconsensual sex. Keith Haring died of AIDS. I thought of this as I sat in the emergency room bed. I thought about the painting of Hell that was hung at the De Young. The way the AIDS virus danced around with the devil himself. Suddenly it was the only painting I could remember. I smacked my lips that were coated with Mac’s VIVA LA GLAM lip color. The lipstick’s proceeds go to an AIDS foundation. I had bought it the day of the rape. They drew the blood for a HIV test. The scar opens up....it bleeds. I don't remember much more about the hospital. A lot of it is a blur. My best friend was at my side for most of the time. The rape kit was traumatic enough but I cried when they gave me the chlamydia shot. It was the most painful shot I've ever been given-----both physically and emotionally. The thing most people have been telling me is that the rape doesn't define me. That's true. Asa doesn't define me, what he did doesn't define me, what I did to survive doesn't define me, and what people think about this doesn't define me. But that doesn't mean it's not very much a part of me. This is a scar and just like every scar that ever was and that ever will be; it will one day become scar tissue. The scar tissue will show how strong I have become. I will be proud of this scar tissue. My advice to anyone that is going through this: Don't ever be afraid to speak up for yourself. For your rights and for your beliefs. There’s always going to be people that tell you that you’re wrong but don’t listen to them, just listen to yourself because that’s who you should put first, always. Our voices are very powerful and speaking up even when people tell us not to will really start to get people’s attention. It’s not our fault that the world is filled with rape culture. Let’s try to heal it.
Danielle Holmberg
My favorite way to kill time is by reading the "missed connections" tab on Craigslist. From the romantic to the weird, I just enjoy reading the stories! I decided to pick the ones that stood out to me and placed them on original photography of mine that matched the feel of the post. Then I started posting them on Instagram (@missed.connections).
Dermatillomania
Izze G
Kaitlyn Tiffany When I was growing up I had dreams of becoming a famous singer or novelist. As these dreams flourished in my young mind I was encouraged to be myself and find what interested me. I can see myself now, just seven years old writing songs in my glitter covered notebook about finding the perfect guy and starting a “girl revolution�. It was a magical time, but as I grew up my interests grew and I found myself falling in love with the art of filmmaking and photography. As I get older, I still find myself singing as loud as I can whenever I am alone in the house. Now nearly 16 years old, permit in hand, and the whole world in front of me. How come I have to choose what I want to do with the rest of my life now?
I know I am not the only one who has to deal with this, but as I watch the upperclassmen begin to apply to colleges and start thinking about majors I ponder on this crazy and absurd idea… Not going to college after I graduate. I realize how this will affect my future and I haven’t even told my family yet, but I want to change the stigma that applies to “free spirits”. I watch movies like “Dazed and Confused” and “The Virgin Suicides” and I feel like I am wasting my high school years trying to figure out what I will do when I leave high school. Spending my days thinking about every possible future I could have until my brain hurts. This isn’t healthy and is a horrible way to live a life. I need to get out of my rut and the only way I can see myself doing that is by just living in the moment, which is easier said than done. My plan to becoming a free spirit is actually quite simple, as long as you follow these five steps…
Step 1: Smile as often as possible
As long as you are having fun, you are truly living. Go bowling with some friends, roller-skate on a Saturday night, and enjoy cracking jokes at your local coffee shop with that girl from geometry. Make each moment a snapshot that you will remember when you’re old and grey.
Step 2: Don’t live in the past
As much as I admire the past, it’s not healthy to always live in the past. I have a tendency to forget what time period I’m in when watching “Almost Famous” or when I look at the glow from my lava lamp on my led zeppelin poster but my goal for 2015 is to start incorporating the beauty of the past and putting it into projects that I do today that will be seen tomorrow.
Step 3: Go outside!
More often than not, when I come home from school I will grab a snack, put in a VHS and forget about the world. Which is nice and can be a good thing but I think as a generation we all need to get outdoors more. It will improve your overall health and mind.
Step 4: Call your friends instead of text them
This might seem a bit unnecessary but honestly I feel that it will make your life much happier and bring some awesome vibes. The art of calling your friends has somewhat died. When you have to wait for a response‌there is a sense of connection that is lost. Also “lolâ€? can never capture the joy that comes from hearing your best pal laugh. Next time you have something hilarious to tell your friend, call them up.
Step 5: Keep a journal
I am one along with so many girls who have an issue with keeping diaries. We start one, write a few pages but then throw it away because we are unhappy with it. This is because we want to have this idealistic diary where we talk about our daily adventures in a witty manor. Then we are faced with the fact that our lives will never be like those diaries we are inspired by. That doesn’t mean that there is nothing to write about. We all need to make our own adventures no matter how small. We control our own destiny. Also remember, a journal is for you alone. Don’t fixate on the esthetics so much just record your life and make each day special.
Overall, my point that I want to get at is that this year we all need to take control of our lives and see things in a new light. Also, to stop thinking about the future so much. Don’t forget that it is okay to dream about what you will do when you are faced with this sick sad world, but as the great Gloria Steinem once said, “Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.” Dream your biggest dream…while still remembering to live in the moment.
Visual Diary: DC Trip
Allison Tovey
The Candy Zine Issue One: April Thank you so much for reading the debut issue of The Candy Zine!! Follow this issue’s lovely contributors on Instagram Allison Tovey @suzybish0p Kaitlyn Tiffany @holelottalove Cara Bloom @carathebloom Haley Howard @hlyhwrd Angel Sunlight @angelsunlight Giulia Giordo @giuliagiordo Thalia Garoufaldis @momgoals Miles Palminteri @celberityyskin Lauren Woodzicka @teenscully Issy Medworth @silktofuprincess Danille Holmberg @daniellemahri Todd Swenke @todd.swenke Quentin Swenke @alien.boi Zoe Palminteri @wdy.wfm Viviana G @1976promqueen