A picture is worth a thousand words, so I can only begin to wonder how costly a video is. Frame after frame of flawlessly edited perfection, I’ve too often found myself bewitched by its yellow-white glow, not quite silver like the screen but still painfully artificial in its own right. 

Or maybe I just need to get blue light glasses. And using light mode at night probably isn’t helping either (though its aesthetics are unbeatable—a debate for another time). Pesky details aside, I’ve noticed myself becoming increasingly obsessed with highlight reels, the enviable lovechild of aspirational vlogging and inspirational cinematography. It’s concerning, really, how much power we give it. The power to alter our moods and our perceptions, our expectations and our dreams. Everything and anything and whatever lies in between, all for the low low price of our sanity.

Okay, okay. So I’m being a little melodramatic. And I might be projecting some (oops!) so forgive me for that. But I’m convinced that highlight reels are the most powerful propaganda to ever exist. The GOAT, if you will. These simple, unassuming memo montage mashups love to show us how amazing life is for the rest of the world … and how pitiful ours is in comparison. It’s funny how we applaud them so, priding ourselves on curating the most perfectly perfect feeds and albums and stories for our followers, unintentionally setting up the same ruse that we fell for in the first place.

I totally get that highlight reels are just that—full of semi-real moments and memories, hand-picked to share (but really brag). How easy is it to go down the rabbit hole that is USC Tik Tok (#ChrisSutherlandcore), falling deeply and irrevocably in love with the idea of a school. No, too niche? Well how about a montage of your teenage years: an audio-visual masterpiece tempting you with clips of parties, lake houses, sleepovers, and road trips. Or edits of that place you’ve always wanted to live? LA or NYC, pick your poison. Even the laughable reels that romanticize careers (should we even glamorize work? food for thought) have particular sway on certain people. 

If you are so incredibly secure in yourself and your life, to the point that everything in this blog was super unrelatable, I admire you. But I’d also implore you to consider the brighter side of things. Highlight reels can be catalysts of change, bringers of beginnings, and motivators of momentum (can you tell I adore alliteration ;). Because I don’t turn to inspirational quotes or verbal encouragement when I feel my discipline falter, but rather my Instagram feed and the occasional Twitter post. I immerse myself in the fantasy, aware that I can never achieve it but emboldened to capture as much of it as I can. Like, I want to be “that girl” (the modern IT girl of the Internet) but I also know a perfectly flat stomach all day every day is anatomically improbable. So instead I’ll try to eat healthier and sleep earlier, spinning society’s propaganda to serve my own purposes. 

I’ll admit, highlight reels will never appear productive if you can’t acknowledge their flaws at large. But learn to separate illusion from reality, and low and behold, you now have a very powerful tool at your disposal. Doggedly chasing unrealistic ideals, unflinchingly impossible in their existence, is like shooting for the moon—even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. So stop rationalizing and start romanticizing, it may take you farther than you could have ever imagined.

Hi, my name’s Eshani and I’m a 3 wing 2 Enneagram, ESFJ Slytherin. Now I don’t (normally) go around introducing myself like this to other people, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with boiling my essence down to a single, all-encompassing label. Rather than an unchangeable designation like my birth year (Monkey) or Zodiac sign (Taurus), I much prefer the terms bestowed by the various (and undoubtedly credible) quizzes of the World Wide Web. I don’t know where this fixation with personality tests came from (probably the American Girl Doll subscriptions circa first grade), but since its emergence, has been an ever present fixture in my life. 

I’d be hard-pressed to admit it nowadays, but Buzzfeed is definitely a guilty pleasure of mine. It is quite literally the Mecca for personality test lovers, a treasure trove of every kind of categorical questionnaire you could think of. Like, just last week, I took one to find out which My Little Pony cinematic universe character I was most similar to. Spoiler, I AM (98%) Twilight Sparkle. Rounded up, that’s 100%! I’m also Rory Gilmore (seasons 1-2 pre-Jess, since that’s the start of her devolution and I would never), Caroline Forbes (comfort character asf), Margarita Pizza (take a stab at why), Bang Energy (a generous estimate, but I’ll take it), and Thanksgiving. No qualms with that last one. 

Sure, every single person is a distinct entity and shouldn’t be crudely placed underneath an umbrella since they are so talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, and completely not ever been done before. But it’s fun and I get bored easily so I do. Plus, I, like many teenagers, have this deep, overwhelming desire to fit in and belong to a group via a shared identity; even if it means squeezing my entire personality into an impossibly tiny box only to be left dissatisfied with the imperfect result. Just a few of the reasons why I love personality tests so so much <3!

Every year, we inevitably end up taking one for some class or another and it almost always ends up being my highlight of the week. It’s usually Myer-Briggs (case in point this class), which has gotten a bit redundant over time, but has also given an opportunity to refine my knowledge of the different labels. I’ve unintentionally memorized the types of my closest friends and family (caring or creepy, you decide) and at this point, I’m probably a walking talking algorithm that could sort you into one of the sixteen myself. In fact, I’d argue that I could classify you better than a measly website can. That girl over there, the one who is in 5 APs, on the cheer team, and holds down a research internship but deals with friendship issues because of her involvement as (their) school president, yeah she’s a Protagonist. An ENFJ-T to be exact. T for Turbulent because she still hasn’t quite found the balance between leveraging her authority as a leader and prioritizing her personal relationships. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to call anyone out on anything, this is just a hypothetical. Take it with a grain of salt. But I mean it when I can say I can categorize literally any person. Don’t believe me? Comment for a classification and find out! Offer only valid after November 1st.

Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. Lulus will restock the Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress.

You’ll have to take my word for it since you can’t check the revision history, but I wrote this exactly three weeks ago, during the height of my homecoming dress search. Disillusioned by – as Regina George would say – “the ugliest effing” clothes I’d ever seen, I was past the point of just hoping and praying that the one dress I actually liked would restock in time. I needed a stronger guarantee. So, like any desperate soul, I turned to manifestation.

Before you write me off as a nut case, hear me out. Yes, I did try to manifest this dress being restocked, part serious part joke, but really, I was just curious as to what the hype was all about. Plus, I didn’t really have anything to lose. 

I feel like every fifth person I talk to practices manifestation and at least two-thirds of them claim a success rate over eighty percent. I have friends who will write “______ will text me back” ten, twenty, thirty times in a notebook in the hopes of having the guy they like stop curving them. Last year, one of my teammates legitimately tried to manifest IHSA cancelling all fall sports – a move that fortunately (unfortunately for her) didn’t work out since we still had a regular, albeit abbreviated golf season. And a couple weeks ago, I was talking to a girl who said she manifested her current relationship; she wanted to get with her SO while he was dating someone else and within a week, he broke up with his ex and started talking to her. And get this, he didn’t even know her name before all this! I’ll admit that the evidence isn’t overwhelming, but it is something. There’s no way chance accounted for over half of what people talk about and as a certified skeptic, I knew I had to try it for myself. 

That brings us back to THE Glamorous Night Out Gold Satin Cutout Bodycon Mini Dress. It’s a mouthful, but the first thing I learned from my research was that you have to make your intentions crystal clear, or you can’t guarantee what you’ll end up with. It’s like when Genie warns Aladdin: specificity, specificity, specificity. Did I mention you should be super specific? So unlike an affirmation (next week’s topic?), a manifestation should have a narrow scope and easily measurable definition of success. Struggling? Think of it as a SMART goal. 

Next, determine how you want to manifest it. You can write it down (preferably by hand) or vocalize it. Maybe throw in a candle or crystal or both to increase your chances. I stuck with journaling, saving me from splurging extra on materials AND allowing me to make good use of the notebooks collecting dust on my desk. I’ll be honest, I kinda skimmed this bit ‘cuz as much as I like Halloween, smoking sage kinda gives me the heebie jeebies. Something about spirits and energies that just makes my hair raise. But considering the bandwagon manifesters on Tik Tok make it work with just pen and paper, I figure I did a decent job too. 

Any expert would tell you, though, that the key to successful manifestation is intention. The concept of manifestation is rooted in the law of attraction (yes, the name of that clickbait-y Youtube video that shows up on your feed every few weeks). It is the idea that your experiences mirror your thoughts and anything is possible through channeling the power of the mind. According to followers, by simply and totally believing that you have already attained, accomplished, or acquired something (a dream job, home, partner, etc.), you will go on to fulfill that desire. But it’s not as easy as throwing a coin into a wishing well. You have to envision your desired life down to the mundane details and surrender any doubts you may have about the process to the universe. If you do not 100% believe in the power of manifestation, it will not reward you in kind. Many adherents say this is the hardest part, and that it took them a while to fully believe and see results. Consistency also plays a big role, as the more you think about it, the more you draw upon its energy, bringing what you seek towards you. I frequented Lulu’s website to see if the dress restocked, but a vision board will also do the trick. No matter what, make sure to stick with it. 

And now it’s time for a break down:

With it’s spiritual undertones, manifestation, like any non-scientific practice (cough, cough astrology), is ultimately up to personal discretion. No matter how much I try, I just can’t get behind it. The notion that my thoughts are all that’s necessary to manipulate circumstances outside of my control is frankly, a bit preposterous. Sure, I get how writing down that you’ll become a successful actress in LA might subconsciously make you take on more roles or keep an eye out for upcoming castings. But that effect is explained by psychology. The actual law of attraction stuff though, I’m not yet sold on. If you genuinely believe in it, all power to you … and please don’t take offense with my blog. 

But if you were wondering, the dress never restocked.

Ferla, Ruth La. “Manifesting, for the Rest of Us.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 20 Jan. 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/20/style/self-care/how-to-manifest-2021.html.

Two words: Snap. Chat. Ok, so technically one, I get it, but it’s a compound word so same-ish. It’s everyone’s favorite app. And their most hated. I don’t know a single person that has it that isn’t annoyed by its existence and chances are, neither do you. So why are we still snapping?

First, a mini crash course for the 31% of you who’ve made the wise decision not to download it (hopefully you never do). Those of you who’ve already succumbed to the dark side, feel free to skip ahead, this part is mostly just a review (rant). Snapchat is like any other social media/communication platform: photo sharing, direct messaging, community pages … you name it, Instagram’s #1 competitor has it. But the key feature of Snap that sets it apart from its less successful contemporaries is its impermanence. Stories posted to your profile delete after 24 hours, videos sent to friends disappear post-viewing, and chats remain for a maximum of 1 day and poof, before you know it they’re gone! Sure, there are hacks (s/o Tik Tok, Quora, and Reddit) that allow you to manipulate the time sensitive nature of the app, but for the most part, these are the ground rules that every Snapchat user has to play by. 

That’s nothing worth getting so worked up about though, right? Wrong. Here are a few reasons I have unrequited beef with Snap (by no means is this a comprehensive list, these are just the aspects I take most issue with so feel free to add your own!):

• Forgetting what you were talking about because it’s socially unacceptable to replay snaps
• Unironically using “snap” as a noun (an image sent to someone)
• Unironically using “snap” as a verb (to send an image or chat to someone)
• Feeling obligated to add people to your private story if they added you first, even if you aren’t particularly close to or comfortable with sharing aspects of your life with them
• Creating content for multiple private stories to cater to your besties, friends, and mutuals
• Sending streaks … pretty self explanatory 
• Being unable to see the contents of a message until you open it (cough *side swipe*)
• Having to reply immediately so you don’t seem like a jerk for leaving someone on seen
• Indefinitely sending pics of your face with no context or conversation just to uphold a facade of closeness between two people that are practically strangers
• Masking insecurities to manage expectations about always showing a “full face” or else people will be convinced you are uninterested/avoiding them
• Being curved by people for weeks to avoid them leaving you on seen (if I respond “lol,” I’m 100% trying to end the conversation so please, be my guest and leave me on seen)
• Adding by search being so uncouth it’s basically forbidden … it’s hard work manipulating your quick adds algorithm to spit out the users you want to befriend ok!!!
• Having to find and use an old IPad to take pictures of snaps because screenshotting = social suicide 
• Being the first and primary line of communication between two people even though it only serves to foster shallow, fleeting relationships (i.e. the talking stage)
• Stalking someone’s snapscore (firstly, stalkerish) or snap maps (secondly, stalkerish) to determine whether or not they are curving you
• Switching chats from “delete after viewing” to “delete after 24 hours” … so awk

Long story short, social etiquette is a B and Snapchat’s handbook tops the list for most infuriating. Also, I may be a bit biased. But I know I’m not alone in my grievances. Yet you, me, and that guy (or girl) you are talking to still use it religiously. Why?

Here’s my theory: fueled by the overgrowth of technology in everyday life, Gen-Z favors an noncommittal communication style, promoting flaky connections and ultimately, dissatisfaction with our personal relationships. It’s a well-established fact that as the first generation to grow up with mobile devices, accessible internet, yadayadayada … I know you’ve heard this schpiel before. We text our friends instead of seeing them in-person. We’re on our phones more than our parents, grandparents, and cheugy older cousins (millennials, I’m looking at you) combined. As much as it pains me to say it, they have a point. When we choose digitally encrypted messages over live conversations, empty face snaps to meaningful words, and complicated rules about when to snap and how to snap about what to snap to whom, we are demonstrating our preferences. Say hello to the self-fulfilling prophecy. Not to say that body language and vocal inflections don’t play a role in miscommunication, but the likelihood of misconstruing meaning or intention increases when connecting on app. The very nature of Snapchat is conducive to ignoring people, missing context, and forming fake friendships … all while being a massive time suck. 

Why not Instagram, IMessage, or Houseparty (RIP 2016-2021)? You can still connect with the people you care about, without having to worry about a disappearing message or accidental slip of the finger. It’s all of the fun and none of the problems. Unless drama is why we love to hate Snap (#hypocrisyhour). Whether its the chase, the validation, or the no-strings-attached attitude, we – the socially distant generation – are hooked on this platform. Maybe one day we’ll grow up and realize that mass messaging an S on a black screen to 500 people or unadding and re-adding our friends (so we can earn the yellow heart with our latest love interest) is pointless. That or our bitmojis in 10 years will be rocking pixie cuts and goatees. There’s like, no in-between.

Either way, let’s realize how we ended up here in the first place (noncommittal communication issues), and maybe, possibly do something about it? Or not, that’s cool too haha!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. While we’re on the subject, amos @eshanivragam 😉 

Harrison, Sara. “Teen Love for Snapchat Is Keeping Snap Afloat.” Wired, Conde Nast, 23 July 2019, www.wired.com/story/teen-love-snapchat-keeping-snap-afloat/.

I never learned to write in cursive. While every second grader across the country practiced dotting their i’s and crossing their t’s and writing without ever letting pen leave page, I memorized the keyboard. 

I remember being mesmerized by my teacher’s ability to type without looking, allowing her to simultaneously hold a conversation and transcribe it. As her fingers glided over the keys, I watched the words appear on the page as she spoke, a multi-tasking miracle in a time before dictation software normalized speech-to-text functionality. And when asked about this great feat, she promised us we would all be able to do the same by the end of the year. 

Mrs. Adam was an early adopter, decking out our classroom in a high tech Smartboard while the other classes, being none the wiser, settled for age old Elmo projectors. At every open house and parent-teacher conference, she drilled the importance of typing, a necessary skill for the information age. Many parents were apprehensive – mine included – about their kids not studying penmanship the way they had and their parents before them had, but she persisted in her message. 

Each week we would embark on a journey to the computer lab, to take on the mighty challenge of memorizing the keyboard with accuracy and agility. Said computers were outfitted in unlabeled keyboard protectors, to ensure we weren’t peeking while practicing. As my typing improved, my medium of choice shifted from notebook to desktop. I felt empowered by the ability to type as I thought, no longer limited by the slow and arduous process of hand-writing. That spring I wrote my first piece: a short narrative about a recent apple picking trip. 

Mrs. Adam encouraged me to take it on as a personal project, granting complete creative control, though she mentored me throughout the process. From start to finish, it was 2,000 words of repetitive and redundant storytelling, but in the end, I was proud to get it out there. Unlike with writing by hand, I found myself enjoying the entirety of the drafting process. I no longer had to fit red pen corrections in minuscule margins or erase entire sentences to accommodate an extra line. Instead, I could instantly swap a word, change a phrase, or bulk up a paragraph. The ease of typing established a direct line between my thought process to written word, eliminating the inefficiencies and limitations plaguing traditional writing. 

Most serious writers will praise working by hand for the benefits it confers upon memory, creativity, and focus. I, however, have always prioritized convenience. When effective writing is all about clear and deliberate communication, why would I not try to streamline the process? 

In choosing to teach us typing instead of cursive, my second grade teacher rejected tradition and embraced modernity, an impactful decision that went against the widely accepted precedent set by her colleagues across the nation. With incredible foresight – remember, this was before the IPhone 4 had even been announced – she correctly predicted the preeminence of the digital space. Not only did it contribute to my early fondness towards writing, it aptly prepared me for subsequent academic experiences. I realized it doesn’t matter how you write, but ultimately, what you write that matters. 

I still can’t write in cursive. I can, however, read it.

It’s a little ironic, how adamant I am about only entertaining physical books when I just took up 547 words to profess my love for typing. But I suppose it’s all about balance. 

While I wrote my apple orchard narrative on my family’s desktop during the day, I curled up in my fuzzy pink chair with a Magic Tree House book at night. I’ve always had a thing for sub grade level literature. Like gorging spoonfuls of Nutella straight from the tub or binging Keeping Up With The Kardashians on weeknights, consuming YA is my guiltiest pleasure. But before I found Red Queen and These Violent Delights, my diet consisted of children’s series, like Dork Diaries and Geronimo Stilton. 

In second grade I was a repeat offender at the St. Charles Public Library, accumulating overdue fees like nobody’s business. It wasn’t that I meant to hog the books, I was just a tad overconfident in my pacing. Every time I went in I would check out a fat stack: two full tote bags overflowing with Babymouse, Rainbow Magic Fairies, and 39 Clues. Despite reading seven days a week, three hours a day, I couldn’t finish it all in two weeks. I apparently never learned my lesson, since I – or rather my parents – continued to pay library fines up until the day we moved. 

My choice of books clearly spelled out LEISURE ONLY, nothing particularly challenging or thought-provoking found in the mix. Rather than an intellectual activity, I viewed reading as a stand-in for conventional entertainment, a pastime that certainly pleased my mom and made me less than popular with my peers. Though this once committed relationship has become on-again, off-again over time, I still choose to read light, as a way to offset the critical analysis and comprehension needed for required texts in school. 

These days my library card is the fourth most important thing in my wallet, after my license, debit card, and student ID, though I have been neglecting it as of late. I’ll always be the library girl not the bookstore one; the new page smell and stiff, crease-less backbones can’t compare to softened pages and folded edges, a homey reminder of the many people who’ve read it before you. And as for the overdue notices, I promise I’ve gotten much much better at turning my books in on time. For the most part.