I work at a coffee shop once a week. Overall, it’s a pretty decent gig that supplies me with all the caffeine necessary for the semester of my graduation—but it’s not without its perils. This particular coffee shop is housed on the pit that is 16th
I have a strange (re: stupid) relationship with music. This isn’t news to me, but it became more obvious in the days leading up to the Women’s March on Denver, Saturday’s inaugural protest. As I was putting together a Songs of the Revolution playlist, a
Even though I’ll have some serious explaining to do if I ever apply for a job in academia, I recently infiltrated a private flat earth group on Facebook for shits and giggles. Their premise is this: many centuries ago, Satanists and the Illuminati conspired to
In the weeks leading up to Fall Break, many people asked me how I would spend my free time. My response was consistently, “Sleeping.” They laughed as if I were joking. On the first day I had completely off from both classes and work, I
Since our last publication, the foundation of our country has reshaped itself. Election day came and went and made canyons in the national landscape where there were once mountains. Even supporters of President-elect Donald Trump have admitted to the surreal haze that has descended over
Working 50 hours between three jobs and and going to school full time ain’t no joke. This semester has been an experiment in over exhaustion. In the past couple of months I’ve fallen asleep at my desk, in the breakroom at work, and even on
Let’s talk about the Netflix revolution. Luke Cage, Marvel’s newest gift to humankind, has been streaming for nearly a month. I admit saying that is a product of my Marvel bias—the show is far from perfect. It suffered the same bloatedness and thinly sketched
I’ve actively been looking for an opportunity to wax poetic about my love for Hamilton: An American Musical, and three weeks out from one of the most combative elections in our nation’s history, I feel my time has come. Those who know me are well
Because I’m a notoriously bad Colorado native, this past weekend marked my first visit to the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. The historic white building, beautiful of its own right, was framed on all sides by the fiery colors of fall leaves. I took up
I grew up poor. Most often, this only meant I couldn’t attend the same field trips as my friends. Sometimes it meant we lived in our car or a gritty hotel flush with the interstate. When I got my first minimum wage job, I felt