Pop Culture

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.

This summer was unendingly long and yet gone within a blink of the eye. The days blurred into each other like inky words on a damp sheet of paper: the individual lost within the blue-black smudge. More frequently than I’d like to admit, I woke without any concept of what day it was. The only thing that alerted me to the passage of time was a new notification from Co – Star, a popular astrology app. Its most well-documented feature is the daily messages it sends, which range from wholesome to surreal to sometimes kind of rude. 

As we tried to come to terms with the quarantine and all it brought crashing down on us (farewell, UVA friends and life), we started cobbling together our recommendations for what to watch and read and play. Some of us had big lists, some small. Some of us had a lot to say, some of us little. That’s kind of how it’s all been. But big, small, loud, quiet, Iris is here for you, with our picks for getting through this thing… enjoy! And share your picks with us!

2020 was supposed to be OUR year. It was supposed to be the modern roaring twenties, I was supposed to walk the lawn for graduation, it was supposed to be good. Even the number 2020 is clean, even, almost perfect some would say. However, that is definitely not what happened. The year started off with Australia ablaze, threats of World War III erupting, Kobe Bryant being taken too soon, devastating floods in Indonesia, and then we got hit with a global pandemic. Corona is a lot of things—unknown, scary, unprecedented (this will be the most used word of 2020). It is also downright weird.

In this February season of saccharine serenades and pink paper hearts, the term “love language” seems to pop up everywhere. Just as banner ads dare you to discover your own love language through quizzes, media organizations dissect the theory in articles about millennial dating. I’ve taken time to consider what my own love language might be. After all, it wouldn’t be Valentine’s Day without chocolate, candy grams, and existential contemplation. Prompted by the seasonal disappointment of tasteless candy hearts and their robotically-written, HUG MEs, I finally reached a conclusion.

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. 

“You’re too little,” my cousin Kelsey said, pushing my cousins and me out of the Green Room at my grandpa’s house before she slammed the door and locked it. She, my brother, and my other cousin were watching the video to “Helena” by My Chemical Romance (MCR), which in all honesty is a bit creepy. They were in the middle of their pre-teen emo phase. Kelsey, Jackie, and Berkley all had a variation of side bangs. All three wore skinny jeans and studded belts.

My nickname in my friend group is “the emotional toilet.” Not really the most glamorous of nicknames. Essentially it refers to my tendency to become someone for the people in my life (mostly men) to vent to and drop their emotional baggage on without expecting the favor to be returned. I’ve always prided myself on being a good listener and trying to help people solve their issues. Being needed can be addicting sometimes, but there’s a fine line between helping someone and trying to “fix” them. It’s an issue that I am aware of and working on, but I wonder, how did I get here?

Posting a picture to Instagram is an event. The right filter must be found, a witty caption conjured. As likes accumulate, it is as if each screen tap is a reflection on you as a person. Not just the way you look, but also how you are perceived by others. Instagram squares have become extra limbs, a digital body we construct as a grid. This constant need to impress others online can be exhausting. The urge to exhale, to finally be ourselves in a world that requires us to be anything but, becomes a necessity.

As my final semester as an undergraduate college student winds down, and as my time as an intern for Iris comes to an end, I’ve been taking time to reflect on the last four years.