XOXO
September 15, 2020
Days turned to weeks turned to months at home to reduce the spread of COVID-19, and thus, remote activities were performed to the fullest degree. Hobbies such as baking became the preoccupation of enough of the population to cause flour to become a coveted item—and quite understandably. As Apple very generously reminded me each week that my screen time had increased substantially, I felt a desire to work with my hands, feigning a return to “real life” and subsequently submitting myself to
July 03, 2020
When I look back at my time with the Women’s Center, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. After three years, the time seems to blur slightly. The things I do recall are fewer specific moments and more themes of constancy—unvarying inspiration, exploration, and vulnerability.
I remember, after months of feeling lost and insecure as a first year, a phone call with Mary about my application to Iris. It was supposed to be an interview, and while I can’t pinpoint exactly
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
April 20, 2020
5. The Northern Mockingbirds AKA the Sentinels
They get last because as cute as they are as a couple, and as much as I appreciate them making a nest in the bush outside my window (hopefully I see some babies sometime soon, fingers crossed), Northern Mockingbirds are territorial as heck. They scare all my other birds away when they are being aggressive, and that is not okay. That’s
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
April 20, 2020
Magazines have a habit of piling up at my house. I suppose I could cancel the subscriptions, but I'm a child of the 80s and, while I value finding articles on my phone and laptop, I’m not ready to give up print magazines. My budding feminist sensibilities were formed by reading my mother's
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
April 11, 2020
Easter always begins the same way for my family. My mother and aunt compete to see who can call my grandpa first on Easter morning to say, “The Lord has risen,” to which my grandpa will respond, “Indeed.” Last year my mom woke at the break of dawn to beat my aunt, but generally my aunt wins. Then my grandpa will call my cousins, brother, and me to relay the same message. As a whole, we’ve always been “indeeders,” rather than “the Lord has risen-ers.” This year is so bizarre because nearly
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
March 04, 2020
Dear Doodle,
Cause I love you a bushel and a peck,
you bet your pretty neck I do,
doodle oodle oh,
You’re a chicken noodle,
Doodle oodle oodle oh.
Sincerely,
Caroline
xoxoxo
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
February 13, 2020
In the era of body positivity and radical self-love, the notion that “no one can love you until you love yourself” is, for many of us who struggle deeply to love ourselves by virtue of depression, anxiety, or the various other forms of mental illness, an unjust sentencing. At its core, the intention is pure. The modern-day proverb is a call to demand that the love we receive from others is of equal or greater value to the love that we give ourselves. However hopeful its intent, this idea
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
November 14, 2019
It’s no secret that I am a sucker for a good romantic comedy or teenage coming-of-age movie. Both of these genres tend to operate on themes of innocence and hope, something that the world could use a little bit more of.
I have probably spent too many car rides staring out the window of a car, my forehead pressed up against the cool glass, staring out the window and pretending that I was the protagonist in my own movie. Maybe it was the opening credits of the movie, where the audience
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
October 24, 2019
As October rolls into motion at UVA, I’m reminded of all the reasons my heart soars when the seasonal clock strikes fall. Yellow leaves on Rugby Road outline the branches they dare to escape from, and Lawn rooms stacked with firewood hint at wiggling toes against crackling fireplaces. The air tastes fresh like bus stop breaths on elementary school mornings and feels crisp like a farmer’s market apple. I’ve always been partial to fall. If the seasons were cups of porridge, I think it’s safe
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
October 24, 2019
Ten Years Old. Before even walking into the store, I am hit by the scent of Abercrombie & Fitch “Fierce” wafting into the mall. My fifth-grade mind had learned to associate this smell with attractive men shirtless on the beach, and preppy clothing galore. The smell of cardamom and citrus becomes even more pungent as I enter, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and taking in the upbeat pop music. It’s the definition of sensory overload. Before the obnoxiously attractive guy at the door