Posted in 2017-2018

A Letter From Our Chief Editors

Hello everybody! We were nominated to take over Post Script, a magazine that has been up and running for three years now. We have both been published writers, section editors, and now, we are co-editors-in-Chief. It is so amazing how far we have come as people, as a magazine, and as a community. We can’t wait to head start this year!

There will be a few changes to the magazine in the upcoming issues. We have chosen four sections for our writers to write for: fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and a What’s Happening tab. We have also opened up our magazine to Barbara Ingram School For The Arts as a whole instead of solely the writing department. The biggest change, however, is that we will be uploading content as fast as our writers can churn it out. There will not be four issues throughout the year, but rather smaller ones each time our editors get their writers’ pieces to us.

For our Barbara Ingram audience–if anyone is even slightly interested in participating, please ask us about joining our team! Another thing that the two of us will be implementing this year is a stronger sense of community. In order to achieve this, we will no longer be assigning editors based on genre, but on commonalities and complementing characteristics for effective teamwork. We believe this will permit the writers and editors to grow together in comfort, method, and communication, creating the most efficient work environment that we are capable of attaining. Additionally, we will be hosting community-building get-togethers after each round of publications for everyone involved! Post Script exists to serve as a platform where we can share our stories as BISFA students and as human beings. We are all part of each others’ human experiences, so why not have the most fun and rewarding human experience possible?

We are so excited for all of the amazing things we will accomplish this year, and we thank you for coming on this journey with us!

With love,

Maddie Lynn and Amelia Lowry

Posted in 2015-2016, Culture

Amelia’s Long List of Suggestions For a Grand Romantic Summer

By Amelia Lowry

“People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.”- Bob Dylan

My great-grandparents met when my great-grandfather rode a motorcycle past my great-grandmother, who was taking a stroll with her mother. When he saw her, he knew she was the one he’d spend the rest of his life with. My great-grandfather stood up on his motorcycle (I wasn’t even an egg yet, so there’s no way to know for sure, but I like to imagine he was sort of proud, with his hands on his hips and his shoulders back) and my great-grandmother’s mom turned to her and said: “You can never marry a boy like that.”

Sometimes I think about the stories I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren (or, if the whole starting-a-family thing doesn’t work out, the stories I’ll be able to tell my six tiny snakes). I want to have crazy stories about my teenage-years. More importantly, I want to experience things. I don’t want to be at a disadvantage just because my generation has faster access to entertainment — I want to get up and go just as much as my parents did and their parents before them. And while there’s no time like the present, let’s face it: there’s just more time to do stuff in the summer.

So, if you’re like me in the sense that you want your coming-of-age years to be as grand and unforgettable as possible, here’s a giant list of 20 ideas to make your summer something for the books.

  1. Keep a journal! Of course your summer will be something for the books if you record your summer in a book. Thisaway, when you’re sad in the winter because you miss the hot weather, you can pull that baby out and reminisce. Also, there’s something about a used journal that just makes me !!!
  2. Put on some funny clothes and go rollerskating. Here: some inspiration.
  3. What’s a summer without camping? A bummer, that’s what.601864ce07e8ca8c123aa740313fd7f0
  4. Or, if you’re not an outdoorsy kinda person, don’t bug out! I see a blanket fort in your future.
  5. There’s so much free time in the summer, so naturally, it’s a great time to adopt a new hobby. Cooking is always a good one because if you don’t eat, you’ll die, but there’s also knitting, or gardening, or the arts (ha!).
  6. If you live in Washington County, I’m willing to wager that there are times you aren’t the proudest of your small town. But since you can’t change everything, research the most touristy spots in your town and check them out! Try to see where you come from with a different point of view: from someone who wants to be there.
  7. Alternatively, sometimes you just live in the middle of a cornfield any way you slice it. But do not fret! There are some super neat places in the tri-state area. Shepherdstown is a delight, and there’s something for everyone: a book store, a small theater, a fairy store. If you’re the singing type or even if you just like to watch, the Blue Moon Café has an open mic night every Wednesday at 9 o’clock and it’s quite a time. (And if you haven’t already been, the Lost Dog Café has great coffee and a super great atmosphere. Unless you’re easily frightened by stickers — then you must run far, far away.)
  8. Go to a concert! Local or not, you can never go wrong with a good ‘ole hip-hoppin’ family-fun. Unless it’s a band you don’t like, and then you may not have a very nice time.RH-MIXTAPE_grande.png
  9. Make a soundtrack for your summer! Whenever you’ll hear those songs in the future,
    they’ll make you think of nice stuff.
  10. Find a dirt-filled spot, spray some water on it, and you’ve got your own mudpit! Do you love feeling like you’re covered in chalk? Then mudpits are the thing for you!
  11. Go swimming in the river and pretend your life is a scene from an old country movie!
  12. You’ve probably got a little basket or bag around your house somewhere — make some sandwiches and hit the road! Have a picnic somewhere new. (Extra points if you invite me!)
  13. Trampoline. Park. You must. Go. Bounce.
  14. Get a bunch of your friends to dress up like you’re all from Grease and go to a drive-in movie! It’s a requirement to dress up like you’re from Grease, because otherwise, you might as well go watch an indoor movie.
  15. In general, do stuff that scares you! It’s summertime, and this is the best time to change and grow because you don’t have an audience. Remember that it’s perfectly OK if something doesn’t happen like you think it will — what matters is that you try. You don’t want to be stuck in the same place forever, do you? I don’t think so!
  16. Take a train somewhere!
  17. So, you know how sometimes when you’re listening to music, you’ll look outside the window of the car and pretend you’re in a movie? What if you made a little dumb hipster montage of a day in the life of YOU? You could add in a little song, too, then you’ll basically have a you-themed version of Submarine.
  18. Wat-er was that? Did someone say “cape-cod-beacheswatergun fight”? More like water-fun fight.
  20. Lastly and not leastly, wake up early and watch the sunrise. Start your day off appreciating something you probably don’t see very often!

Don’t spend your whole summer inside your house not doing anything. What kind of a story is that? “Yes, my grandchildren, when I was a young whippersnapper like yourself, my Tumblr was especially aesthetic. There were gradients all over the place. It was wild.” Figure out what everyone means when they say that these are the best years of your life. As Hannah Montana once said, “Life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock!”

Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Lifestyle, Travel

Float on Down

By Breanna Myers and Amelia Lowry

Every day as I walk to and from the different buildings where I have my classes, I like to look around and notice the curiosities of our downtown area. Sometimes, it’s the pedestrians with their little puppies, or the cars driving by with their windows down and loud music blaring. Sometimes, it’s the things I pass by everyday and never really take the time to consider. For example, the little float spa on the first floor of the Grand Piano building.

What was this place? Was it like a giant bath? What was this experience supposed to help with? Who would pay to float in a tank of water for an hour in the dark? Why Hagerstown? I had lots of questions. But most importantly: what was it for?

Eric Sarmiento and his family, who own and run Regenerate, were overjoyed to let us check it out and answer any questions we had. I ventured down there nearly every day for a week with questions from, “What made you decide to open up Regenerate?” to flat out, “What is it and why is it different from floating in my bathtub?” They were more than patient with my high school antics.

The story of the float spa began when Sarmiento heard from friends of floating’s power

and, once he tried it, it he was hooked. He loved that the floating experience gave him a better sense of mental clarity, along with the physically healing elements as well.

“Really, what is floating? And why am I going to spend $80 on it?” I asked cynically.

Apparently I wasn’t the only asking these questions. WHAG news did a story on Regenerate back in 2015 when they first opened and they describe it as “the latest health trend that people are doing to unwind after a long day.” The pods with their 10 inches of water saturated with 1000 pounds of epsom salt hold both mental and physical healing properties.

After so many visits, I felt at home in their calming lobby. Between aromatherapy, himalayan rock lamps, and soothing music, and even the employee’s light voices, both Amelia, a fellow BISFA writer, and I were fighting yawns every time we walked in.

Before we knew it, the day of the float had arrived. It was Earth Day, and Sarmiento greeted us with a smile as always. “You know who’s birthday it is today? Earth’s.” We just laughed nervously, wondering what the heck we were getting ourselves into.

Sarmiento opened the door to the hallway for rooms with the isolation pods, which we’d 98289_large_1.pngnever seen. It was even more mysterious than I imagined. It was completely dark, save for three closed doors, out from under which emerged glowing lights. It looked like something straight out of an 80s sci-fi film. Thankfully, no aliens came running out when Sarmiento opened the first door. Instead, there was what seemed like a large, white incubator that took up most of the room. This was a “pod.” Amelia and I stepped into the dark room, where green light was blooming from the corner. The room itself was very warm and had a very interesting earthy scent. Besides the pod, there was only a shower, and some hygienic necessities.

“So. First impressions?” Sarmiento asked. We just laughed, mumbling something about being excited. After a brief introduction to the room and how our session would go, I left Amelia in the first room and made my way to the second floating room, where the light was pink instead of green.

An hour later, I was sipping water and struggling to find equilibrium in the lobby while I waited for Amelia to emerge. Finally, she came out, hair wet and looking equal parts rejuvenated and loopy.

“How’d ya like it?” I asked.

“I died…” we all looked at her, startled. “In a good way.”

I understood where she was coming from, but it didn’t quite feel like death for me. Rather, I felt like I was enveloped in a thick, opaque fog. I could still do everything, but it all took a bit more effort. Additionally, I noticed Amelia and I were both talking slower as well, giddy on the 1,000 pounds of epsom salt we had just spent an hour in. On the way out, we ran into one of our teachers, Mrs. Taylor, and she looked at us like we had just come back from Narnia. “Where have you guys been?”

“We were trying out the float spa,” I said sluggardly.

“Woah! What was it like?” Mrs. Taylor asked.

“It felt like I was dead,” Amelia said, using her new catchphrase. “Because, you can’t feel your body ‘cause the water feels the same as the air, and everything is really dark, and even if you open your eyes it feels like they’re closed.”

“It was so freaky! I feel really… light. It’s odd,” I grinned stupidly. Mrs. Taylor laughed and walked out to her car saying something about seeing us tomorrow.

Amelia and I continued to our destinations, tripping down the sidewalk as we went along. “What were you thinking about the whole time?” Amelia asked me.

“How much I wished I wasn’t thinking anything. And how loud my breathing was. You never really notice it, ya know?”

Regenerate-Float-Saver-img.jpg“I had ‘The Great Outdoors’ playing,” Amelia said, gesturing to express the dramatic title of her “mood” music. We had been given options for the background noise beforehand, and I had picked “Gentle Rainfall” (a much less theatrical title.) “And so, the whole time I was kind of thinking about all the different places I had been outside, and it felt sort of like I was small again. Because it’s pretty easy to have that child-like sense of wonder when you’re in a little capsule.” I found myself being distracted by everything happening around me, my brain newly aware of all the extra stimulus.

I tried to refocus on Amelia, “I turned my music off right away, trying to get the ‘authentic experience’, ya know? Did you have your light on in the pod?”

“No, I turned it off as soon as I got in. I had to make sure to keep my mind away from horror-movie scenarios, because I knew that could get bad pretty fast,” Amelia said.

“I understand, I had a lot of trouble just surrendering. It was all so scary but freeing, too. I didn’t realize how much it worked until I tried to stand up, I almost fell over!” Amelia and I went our separate ways and I decided to walk home, savoring the invigorating and relaxing effects of the float.

The next day, I barreled down the steps to the first floor with my classmates as always. I glanced in, waving at Sarmiento and the other employees and smiling sheepishly as I realized just how loud and busy we all were. It was amusing to think about how just through those doors was a serene escape while we all babbled about homework and stress and everything else that comes with being a student at BISFA.

Breanna Myers is a Senior at Barbara Ingram and Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram.

Posted in 2015-2016, Culture

Earth Day Isn’t Just Any Day For April

By Amelia Lowry

April gallops gracefully around her friends. The eleven faces of her closest companions all blur into one as she runs.

“April, stop dancing and come sit down with the rest of us,” September orders.

“Woah, Sep, chill,” June says lazily, chewing loudly on a giant wad of bubble gum. “It’s not like she’s, like, doing drugs or something.”

At this, all eleven people in the circle exchange dubious looks.

“I don’t get why anyone would do drugs. I mean, isn’t life just amazing as it is?” December asks with a wide smile on his face. “April knows what I’m talking about, right April?”

April skips lackadaisically over to her friends. Her long hair bounces up and down behind her each time her bare feet hit the grass.

“Hey man, did someone, like, say ‘April’?” April asks in her watered-down voice.

September narrows his eyes upon April’s approaching.

“Sep, what’s the matter, dude? The war is over if you want it,” April says to September, kneeling down beside him. He grumbles and tries to scoot away from her, but October stops him with a spooky, eyeliner-rimmed look.

“Hiya, April!” December cheerfully chitters. “I was just tellin’ the gang about how great life is! Don’t you just love it?”

“Totally, man, it’s outta sight. It’s the grooviest time of year — you know how I love April,” she says with a lethargic smile.

“I know I love April,” February says. February gives a sly wink and twirls a lock of curly hair with her slender, pink-polished fingers.

Without missing a beat, December shows the group a glimpse of his twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks. “I love April too — the sun is out, the grass is green — it’s the best time of the year!”

“Oh my God, December, you say that every twenty-four hours,” September replies hotly.

“Simmer down, my friends,” April says.

June changes the subject. “It sure is a chill time of year,” she says. “The twentieth will be here before we know it.”

“Every day is April twentieth if you try hard enough, man,” April says. “Besides, dudette, you gotta think bigger. Expand your mind.”

December grins broadly and says, “Yeah, Christmas is on the way!” He looks off into the distance lovingly, as if he’s thinking about all the different flavors of candy canes, or how soft Santa’s beard is. “Here comes Santa Claus,” he mutters under his breath.

April follows December’s gaze. “Oh, yeah, I think I can see him, man,” she says.

“That’s not Santa Claus, you imbeciles, it’s just a red-breasted robin,” September says.

“Did someone say ‘breast’?” February asks, suddenly alert.

April stretches out, lifting her kimono-covered arms high above her head. Everyone turns to look at her — her sudden shift in movement enough to gather their attention.

“Oh, hello friends,” April says when she notices everyone’s eyes on her.

“What’s your favorite holiday, April?” December asks.

“Oh, that’s a tough one man. It’s tough to decide between Earth day and Arbor day,” April replies. She puts her arm idly over December’s shoulder. “It’s like the two days of the year where everyone is, like, united in the common goal of loving the planet. You know I’m all about the love, man.”

October readjusts his clunky headphones and asks, “April, what is Earth Day? I don’t really know a lot about the Earth.” He pushes his straightened, black hair out of his pale face and looks toward April. More darkly, he says, “I spend most of my time in the underworld.”

“It’s just some dumb hippie holiday. What does it matter? Arbor day, too — they’re just excuses for hippies to hug more trees,” September says.

“Hey man, make love, not war,” April says to September. “Don’t let the man keep you down, October. He probably just didn’t eat his granola this morning.”

“Nobody here eats granola except you, April,” September spits.

“Whatever, my friend. Anyway, Earth Day always falls on April 22nd and Arbor day is on the 29th. I’m planting trees down on the park if you want to join me,” April says.

“Oh, the 22nd? No can do — I’m making some sacrifices that day,” October replies.

“Thank god,” September says. “That’s what this country was built on — some elbow grease and a lot of sacrifice.”

October gives September an ice-cold look. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“It’s totally turbulent, October,” April says. “You don’t have to plant trees to celebrate Earth Day and Arbor Day. Another thing you can do instead is make people feel bad for throwing stuff away, or protest at your local bank.”

“Why the bank?” September asks, suddenly intrigued.

“Because, man, money doesn’t grow on trees. But you know what does grow on trees?” April asks. Nobody responds. “Air. Why don’t banks help with air? Don’t they know that the air is contaminated? Don’t they know that they, as Americans, are to blame for 25% of carbon dioxide pollution in the environment?”

There is a drawn out silence as everyone digests April’s sudden attitude.

“Well… I’m glad you feel so passionately about something. That’s the bomb,” October says.

“Hey man, watch your language!” April shouts neurotically. “The trees can hear you!”

“Anyway, April.” February flirts, batting her eyelashes. “What are you doing this Friday?”

“I’m going to Wall Street,” April says, shaking her head. “Nobody wastes paper like those tree-hating fascists.”

“Ooh, I bet that’ll be a real good time. But you know what they say — you’re gonna  need a honey if you wanna save some money. Whatdya say, April? Do you wanna –” February began, lowering her eyes to April’s beaded peace-sign necklace, “take a chance on me?”

“No, man, we humans have no right to take the bee’s honey, man. That’s just like us humans, taking what isn’t ours. Like trees, man. Trees don’t belong to anyone,” April says. “That’s why we have to serve the trees, man. Arbor Day is the perfect day for you to serve them. Pick up some trash. Recycle. Plant trees, get your hands muddy, man.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” February says.

“Far out, dudette, it’s a date. Is the 29th okay, man?” April asks February.

“The 29th is perfect, pick me up at 8,” February responds with a wink.

“Okay, man, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit you on my bicycle,” April says, scratching her head, and sways to her feet. “I gotta jam, guys, there’s a protest against fracking going on soon, man.”

April starts skipping away, leaving her eleven friends in near-silence. February is still sitting on the ground, forlornly looking at the grass.

“Oh, I didn’t know she had something against fracking,” February says.

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Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram. 

Posted in 2015-2016, Entertainment, Humor

Straight Out of Bagels (A Podcast Series) – Episode One: Pilot

Episode One “Pilot” was Written and Performed by Max Gamerman and Amelia Lowry (featuring Jackson Spickler)


They’ve traveled through the wastelands of New Jersey.  They’ve ventured through the desolate jungles of Pennsylvania.  They’ve tangled with lions and cowboys and mermaids and the entire cast of Seinfeld (especially George) and now they’re here in Washington County Maryland.  And they’re bringing it fresh like a good bagel.  This is a podcast you don’t want to miss.

Max Gamerman is a Junior at Barbara Ingram  and Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Culture

Kiss Me, I’m 1/64ths Irish!

By Amelia Lowry 

In 2012, Instagram was congested with Grumpy Cat memes. In 2013, it was Frozen. And every year, on March 17th, the pictures of everyone drinking green beer make their appearance.images

It’s St. Patrick’s Day — the one time of year when it’s actually appropriate to wear your “Kiss me, I’m Irish” merchandise (and receive zero kisses). This is the holiday to celebrate gingers, the color green, and pinching people. Here we are, finally at the one day where it’s socially acceptable to cozy up to people for money because you’re not a gold-digger, you’re just a leprechaun!

So, who is this Saint Patrick and why is he celebrated by canoodling “Irish” people and drinking green beer?

Well, in the late 300’s, Ireland was occupied primarily by Pagans and the like. It was a less-than-ideal environment for the teenaged Patrick, who was captured from his home of Roman Britain and forced to live in Ireland as a slave. But, despite this adversity, Patrick prayed and communicated with God every day. One night when he was twenty, Patrick received a message from God in his dreams, telling him that he could escape Ireland by going to the coast. Sure enough, Patrick was able to break free and go home to Roman Britain. For a few years he studied under a bishop, St. Germanus, eventually became a priest, and then later on, a Bishop. Thus, he became Saint Patrick. He was called to Ireland, where he felt it was his duty to bring the love and light of God.

Saint Patrick

At first, people tried to kill him. But once he began to talk, people began to listen — his trick was to explain the gospel using a shamrock, a funny little leaf that everyone could understand. People liked that — after all, it was a pretty clover way to discuss religion. Over time, thousands of people converted to Christianity, and entire kingdoms were evangelized. After a long life of building churches and teaching faith, Saint Patrick died on March 17, 461.

So, why do people celebrate St. Patrick’s day?

For at least one thousand years, the Irish have observed St. Patrick’s Day as a holiday. March 17 usually falls during lent, so one of the exciting things about St. Patrick’s Day was that it was an excuse for the Irish to cheat and eat bad stuff for a day. (Although, if their beer was green back then, people might have gotten more than drunk. Like, probably dead.) The first St. Patrick’s Day parade took place in America, in 1762. People played music and embraced their Irishness, probably did some jigs and tweedily-doo, had some chinwags.

During the Potato Famine of 1845, a lot of sad and hungry Irish people emigrated to America to live better lives. Unfortunately, America was a little stingy and didn’t feel like sharing space with Catholics — let alone Irish Catholics. So every year on St. Patrick’s Day, the Irish people would hit the streets and celebrate the Saint that made their country what it was, and the “pure-blooded” Americans would sit on the sidelines, angrily waving their “Vote Trump 1850” flags.

There are so many different ways to celebrate this holiday. As mentioned before, parades are historically the way to go, and you can still attend them today. Although, today, the parades seem a bit more theatrical than they were 150 years ago. Another way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day is by wearing green! This is particularly recommended if you are of ten years of age or below — you might get pinched if you show up to school greenless. For anyone older than ten, wearing green is still a verybig St. Patrick’s Day tradition (although, if you’re too edgy or if green doesn’t match your ~aesthetic~, don’t worry about it). Some people celebrate by searching for a four-leaf clover. It’s pretty discouraging to search through thousands of 3-leafers for that special little weed, but you might be the lucky 1%! And if all of that is too much work, you can always just go around pretending to be a leprechaun.

The 251st annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade March 17, 2012 in New York City.

Leprechauns, according to myth, are traditionally crotchety, live alone, and make shoes in their free time. They are said to be about two feet tall. The cleverest of Irish fairies, they can and would do anything to escape human capture. Perhaps this is why leprechauns are everywhere — they are just so relatable. If a leprechaun is caught by a human, they can use magic to make an escape, by simply vanishing into thin air or by granting three wishes. For this reason, Irish people sometimes go looking for leprechauns so that they can have their wishes granted. For a tutorial on how to catch a leprechaun this St. Patrick’s Day, click here. Leprechauns are also supposed to be the bomb at playing music so if you
end up being successful on your quest, make sure to ask to hear some sick beats.

Most Americans obdownload (1)serve St. Patrick’s Day in some way or another — whether they’re wearing green or making a point not to in order to be edgy. While it is a small holiday, it’s a good time to appreciate and be thankful for the liberties we have. St. Patrick had a pretty rough life yet still found ways to flourish despite this (and it is his day, after all). So next time you’re invited to a St. Patrick’s Day party, you can tell everyone what you’ve learned and who this St. Patrick guy really is. Then again, if you aren’t invited to a party, never fret! You can always crawl into a hole somewhere in Ireland and never come out again, and live the rest of your life as a leprechaun.

Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram. 

Posted in 2015-2016, Culture

How to Make a Goth Fall in Love (In Just Seven Dismal Steps!)

A response to How to Make a Hipster Fall in Love (Ironically)

By Amelia Lowry

There’s two days ‘til Valentine’s Day, and many people still find themselves alone. After all, it takes time to find someone who you would like to spend all your time with. Goths have it even worse — a dying breed (inside and out), they find it hard to find the right person whose soul is theirs for the taking. Goths tend to have considerable trouble pulling someone icy enough for their liking, because not only do they need a person to spend all of their waking moments with, but someone to share all of their dead moments, as well.

That being said, if you’re a lonely goth looking for some quick love, keep reading for our list of seven ways to find love for this Valentine’s holiday!


Step 1: Look your best.

This piece of advice is older than time itself. You’ve got to look neat to get the meat! If you walk around looking perky, well-presented, clean, and pleasant, you’ll never get a date. So, stay awake for days at a time to get those succulent, puffy bags under your eyes, and don’t forget to rub charcoal eyeliner all around for that I-didn’t-wake-up-like-this-because-I-never-went-to-bed look.


Step 2: Smell your best.

Do you think the Bride of Frankenstein got her man by smelling like roses? I don’t think so! If you ghouls really just wanna have fun, you have to start by smelling the part. For that delightful, unshakeable scent of death, our style specialists at Forever Seventeen Magazine suggests that you dab the fresh blood of a parakeet behind your ears. If it’s overwhelming sadness that you wish to emit, bathe in the salty tears of a new widow. (Extra points if you widow her yourself!)


Step 3: Are you goth enough?

The last thing you want to do is be mistaken for an emo by a potential mate! Because, let’s face it — emos and goths are very different. Emos wear color sometimes.

It is essential when entering a relationship that you know who you are, and it’s even more important to know who you’re representing. Who cares if you’ve only ever read the Harry Potter series? Your favorite author is Poe. It doesn’t matter if you listen to some goofy hipster band when no one else can hear you. What matters is that you say your favorite band is Evanescence. Got it? Good.


Step 4: Find your one and lonely!

How are you going to find that unspecial someone unless you go out and just get ‘er done? Try walking down the street, and instead of creeping along the wall like you normally do, step boldly, and glare at everyone you see. Your ultimate goal is to find a timeless lover, so it is vital that you scare away the weak-hearted. Glare, stomp, hiss, bark — whatever you feel encapsulates you as a person.


Step 5: Give them your number!

Surely, you’ve attracted some attention from hissing and barking at passers-by. Now all that’s left is to seek out your life/after-life partner! At this point in the game, it is perfectly acceptable to groan at them in all six of your inside voices! If they are truly meant to be with you, they will understand. Should they pass all of these tests, the next step is to give them your number. Although, if they are still alive, we suggest that you ask their permission before etching your number onto them for eternity. The living ones tend not to like that.


Step 6: Take them on a date.

Chances are that you probably have a couple Marylin Manson concert tickets lying around. This could make for a fun date! You two could “accidentally” knock heads while headbanging, or have a deep discussion on the different shades of black. If you already used your Manson tickets, and if you’re in the mood for a particularly steamy evening, light a couple candles and break out the records — you can play them backwards together and hear your true calling.

A trip to the cemetery is always a gloomy, tomby adventure– perfect for you and your new girlfriend/victim/boyfriend. Picnics, rituals, grave-digging, making your funeral plans; there is so much to do and so little time!


Step 7: Take them to meet your family.

You’ve finally found the person or creature that you intend on spending infinity with, and more importantly, Valentine’s Day. As per custom, it is essential that this creature meet the people that raised you. Your mummy might unravel slightly at the sight of her little monster growing up, but that’s to be expected. When taking your lover on a tour of the house, your parents might tell you to keep your coffin door open, but they just like to embarrass you because they love you with such intensity that it feels like they loathe you.

At Forever Seventeen Magazine, we guarantee that there’s someone or something out there just for you. There’s no reason to be lonely this Valentine’s Day. Follow these seven, simple steps and we promise that you’ll have someone to love in no time!

Amelia Lowry is a sophomore at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Culture

This Mad Fad Called Plaid: Why We Channel the Flannel

By Amelia Lowry 

Flannels, plaids, tartans– whatever you wanna call them, they’re everywhere and everyone wears them. Confused dads with fanny-packs and vests wear flannels; hipsters pair their plaid with vans and whiny voices claiming that they listened to Bon Iver before anyone else did. Greasy-haired, Kurt-Cobain loving people wear flannels over band t-shirts. Kylie Jenner wears her plaid tied around her waist and people who want to be like Kylie Jenner wear their plaid the same way for $300 less.


There is not one group of people that tartan is not advertised to. L.L Bean, the nerdy parent store, sells plaid shirts by the thousands. Forever 21 and H&M sell it to the youngins. Even obnoxiously expensive companies like Burberry and Chanel sell plaid to its obnoxiously rich customers.

The question that is banging its head against the wall, wanting so desperately to be asked, is why? What is it about flannel and plaid that everyone loves? Why is everyone going loony over this specific geometric pattern?

The answer may never be learned, but we can still investigate why the world is doused in plaid (and we will).

There are several clumps of people who started this flannel-fever, and it actually wasn’t the hipsters that did it first. Scotland in particular can be accredited for tartan. Way back when, before the mid-1800’s, tartans were crafted by local weavers and could be used to identify towns and general regions of people. This is partially because the dyes would have to be local, and partially because tastes and styles would differ from town to town. Though it is definitely rude in 2015, sometimes we can see people and identify where they are from based off of their style– for instance, if someone is wearing an organically-dyed maxi skirt and Birkenstocks, they are probably from Shepherdstown. When people wear denim shirts on top of blue jeans, they are trying to tell you that they are from Canada and the people who wear leather hats are almost always from your local Harley Davidson store.


After the 1850’s, there were more machines and available materials, such as dyes and fabrics. It was much easier for weavers to make family-specific tartans, and so many families had patterns unique to their family. If someone from nineteenth century Scotland were to time-travel to today’s time, they might start giving everyone hugs. For all they know, you’re their brother from another mother.

Another group of people who are strongly associated with plaid are the lumberjacks. Go ahead, search ‘lumberjack’ in your Google search bar. Every image is of a ripped hipster, complete with a pair of suspenders and a beanie and a beard and, most vital to the success of this paragraph, they are all wearing flannels! Part of the reason that the lumberjacks loved their flannels (and probably why so many people have become attached to their plaid shirts) is because of the comfiness factor. Lumberjacks would often live a migrational life, traveling from place to place and chopping down trees where they could find them. This meant that they had a rough time finding someone to love on them in the colder months. For this reason and this reason only– the lack of a lover’s warmth– lumberjacks would want to stay warm, and would use this blend of geometrically-woven cotton to do so. Maybe this is why everyone is wearing flannel all of a sudden– because they are single and therefore rendered perpetually cold.

A lot of people believe that those with symmetrical faces are more beautiful than people with regular faces, and this has been tested with science. According to a study by Anthony C. Little, Benedict C. Jones, and Lisa M. DeBruine on facial attractiveness, humans tend to lean towards people who have symmetry in their face due to Evolutionary Advantage. In essence, this means that we find will typically find someone who has eyes that are evenly lined up more delightful to look at compared to someone with eyeballs all over their face in uneven proportion because subconsciously, we see that person as a potential mate and we want our potential children to be perfect. At this point, you may be wondering what this has to do with plaid. I’m not so sure anymore. But, I think that one reason plaid might be coming back in such a big way is because it tends to be symmetrical. We like plaid because it is a good potential mate.

Whether people are wearing plaid to look like another Kardashian or because they liked it before it was cool, plaid is here to stay. The Scottish started it, the lumberjacks perpetuated it, and Beyoncé probably wore it better.  If you are a lover of plaid, you’re in luck! Plaid is here to stay, unless we make something else popular– something weirder than lumberjack-chic. Maybe plumber-chic? We can all have plumber’s cracks. It’s a real cute idea.

Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram

Posted in Culture

One Emo’s Call for a More Pronounced Thanksgiving Season

By Amelia Lowry 

It’s not about liking the holiday as much as it is about hating Christmas.

“Dad, I’m hungry,” you whine from the passenger seat of his station wagon.

“Hi, Hungry, I’m Dad,” he says, and then chuckles.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to your dad, so you angstily turn on the radio. You hope for some My Chemical Romance or some other emo screamo band.

Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year…

“Wait, this isn’t Fall Out Boy,” you say tearfully under your breath. “It’s so hard being a teenager.”

“Hi, Christmas music, I’m Dad,” your dad says cheerfully.

Suddenly, it hits you that Christmas music is playing. It feels like just yesterday you had locked yourself in your room and repeatedly watched The Corpse Bride and celebrated the witching hour. This, more than anything, brings tears to your eyes. You hate Christmas, you hate being forced out of your room for extended periods of time. The idea of being bought colorful clothes by your un-edgy relatives makes your heart beat all “lickety split” as your dad would say. You hate when your heart beats, almost more than you hate Christmas.

“Where did Thanksgiving go? It’s not Christmas yet,” you say.

  “Why’d the turkey cross the road?” your dad asks. After a dangling five minutes of silence, he gives you the answer. “To make way for Christmas.”

He chuckles as you let a tear escape from one of your penciled-in raccoon eyes.

“I gotta get out of here!” Honestly, you just wish it was Halloween forever.

“We gotta get out while we’re young, ‘cause tramps like us,” your dad sings in a constipated voice, the one he uses to impersonate Springsteen. “Baby, we were born to ruuun!”

This doesn’t cheer you up — nothing does. You’re dead inside 364 days of the year. Halloween is the only exception, the only day that can ease your unending pain.

But Halloween is gone. And Thanksgiving is, too — you haven’t heard a peep about it since October 31st. Knowing that you’re hungry (and that he’s Dad), your dad drives you to the mall complex and you get a bite to eat. Afterwards, you take a stroll inside the mall.

You would have flown to your favorite store, if you weren’t so anchored by your soul of lead. So instead you just walk to the only place where you feel understood: Hot Topic. You are able to escape the Christmas spirit for five minutes as you browse amongst your own kind.

Unfortunately, nothing is forever, especially happiness. Soon enough, an emo cover of a classic holiday song begins to play and all the other people in the store begin to headbang. This is not your place anymore. You have to go.

You walk into JCPenny’s, knowing you’ll find your dad somewhere in between the bow-tie and sock section. You are immediately overwhelmed with red and green. To your left and to your right, Christmas sweaters are advertised on plastic women. Underneath pine tree green fedoras, plastic men wear t-shirts brandishing Santa Claus’s face and his nine reindeer. There are red boxes with red ribbons piled high, a sea of last-thought presents — but there are no turkeys. There aren’t any gravy-colored accessories, there are no pictures of sweet potato casseroles on the fronts of t-shirts and sweaters.

“Hey there, sugar plum!” your dad calls suddenly. You turn and see him coming towards you with antlers on his head, and he’s jingling.

“Dad, oh my God. What are you wearing?” you ask

“But wait! There’s more!” he replies. He presses a button in his pocket and
his green tie is alight with miniature-colored LED bulbs. “Like it?”

You begin to cry. This is the worst day of your life, nobody understands you. You just wish there was some way to postpone Christmas and have a little bit more autumn.

The thought comes to you fast like one of your nihilist poems at 3 a.m.

Thanksgiving! Why is everyone erasing Thanksgiving?

You are surprised that you are advocating for Thanksgiving, as usually you have nothing to be thankful for. But this year, you are changed. You would be so thankful if the happy holiday season would go away, if you could go another month without giving, without the singing. You wonder why winter even has to exist — you hate having to compete about whose heart is more frozen (obviously, it’s yours).

You wish everyone would stop pretending like there aren’t two months between Halloween and the 25th of December. You wish the world would slow down and forget about winter, that Santa Claus would eat one too many cookies and burst. You wish everyone could feel the pain that you feel when you see an Advent Calendar, or anything at all.

Amelia Lowry is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram.