Counting Sheep Lily Jiang

I keep saying I hate Glee, and I do, but I’m also here writing an entire essay about it. Admittedly, many of my favorite high school memories come from Glee. Scream singing the Glee Club’s rendition of PYT with my best friend on our way home from wherever, renting The Glee 3D Concert Movie on a random weeknight over the summer, duetting River Deep Mountain High with my friends on Glee Karaoke Revolution during a sleepover, and watching the competition episodes on a projector around a Bonfire with the Glee Discussion Club are just a few examples of how Glee has slithered its way into my social life. I even dressed up as Santana for Halloween this year. As odd as it is, through its weird half-sexual scenes involving Will and Emma, unrealistic budgeting, and so much more, Glee has become one of my favorite things. This brings up the burning question of: How did it do it? How did a show that has a complete episode centered around twerking being banned, take me, and the rest of the world by storm? As much as I don’t want to admit it, I think a lot of my love for this show comes from how awful it is. The overdramatic satirical style and unbelievability are purposeful (I hope). Screaming at the TV at 1 am with my best friends about how awful the Glee club’s costumes are, is why I love it. It’s so stupid and unrealistic that you can’t help but laugh. Glee has brought me closer to the people I love and shown me that it’s ok to be me and I can’t thank the creators of this god-awful show enough for that.

On My Love-Hate Relationship With Glee

El Matador El Matador El Matador El Matador El Matador El Matador

It was a cold day — Colder than what I would have liked, especially in California. We stopped at a cliff overlooking the ocean. The steep path Leading down to the beach Dotted with tiny yellow flowers.

We walked down the rickety staircase, With flimsy, wooden and metal railings, Rusting to a golden-black color Which left a metallic residue when held. I wonder how many others held it before me And realized it gave no support To the wobbly stairs

Leaving the vertigo-inducing stairs, I slipped off my shoes And dipped my feet into the chilly sand, The small rocks, poking at my feet. As I avoided the sharp stones, Corpses of tangled seaweed bodies Lay across the ground in huddling heaps, Almost looking like an ancient creature That slithered up from the sea floor.

Like ink splattered on a dreary watercolor painting, Monoliths rose from the ground. Those too, could be more timeless beasts, Stuck in time forever like petrified wood, When they were endlessly roaming And wandering the Earth.

The briny ocean undulated and crashed on the shore, Leaving chalky remains. As each tide pulled in and out, Swaying as if to hypnotize the viewer, It whispered names from the ghosts of the past And those who had been there before me.

Perhaps the beach was a burial ground For monsters of the past. A cemetery for god-like entities who take their place on the Earth. As clumps of seaweed, As sharp, towering rocks As crashing ocean waves And even possibly As an old, rickety staircase.

To Dream To Dream Eileen Chen Digital

Would you take my hand if I held it out to you?

I wonder if you think about me the way I think about you

and maybe this is forward of me but I want to know everything about you

the music you listen to, your favorite childhood memories, your comfort food when you’re sick

and could you look away and stay distracted long enough for me to memorize everything about you?

the color of your eyes, the way your hair goes, whether or not you absent-mindedly fidget when you have nothing to do but sit

and please tell me if I bother you when I talk for too long, too loud

or don’t, either way, my heart, my brain, something of mine might burst, or overflow, or shatter to pieces

And do you feel like dancing the way I do when we speak?

I replay every moment I spend with you at the end of the day

the way your eyes lingered on me, or our hands brushed, or I sat close enough to feel the heat of your arm radiating to mine

and I can’t say a word because this feels scary and strange but I think

I would take your hand if you held it out to me, too

YouYou

Emma Laragione