Entertainment

By Carey Dunne, 23, reporting from New York, NY, on the power of the proper write, stamp and mail message

When was the last time you got a piece of real, non-e, snail-type personal mail? A picture postcard, or a letter on a live-forever sheet of stationery that you actually unfold? The sight of an old friend’s handwriting is something special. And how many friends’ handwriting do you even know these days?

Also, Facebook, email, texts, try as they might, will never outshine the thrill of ripping open an ivory envelope to discover that you have been formally invited to a ball, for instance. There is a reason ball invitations never come by way of Facebook: because stationery is better.

If I knew all of your addresses, you know I’d invite you that way—especially if I were hosting a ball—but for now, for here, your presence is requested in making this the summer of snail mail love.

Write to someone, like with a pen, on a postcard or a proper piece of stationery. Lick a stamp. (Stamp shopping in 2013 is no small pleasure, either: Muscle cars and Rosa Parks are forever!) Put it on an envelope. It will get to go in a truck, or on a plane. When it arrives in a friend’s mailbox, it will make their day much better than another email to slog through, or a little red number in their notifications tally. They will send something back to you, and you will thank your postal carrier, guardian of the hallowed tradition of letters.

I recently received a postcard from a good friend in Oakland, California, after she spent two weeks hibernating alone on a woods excursion. On the front, it had a black-and-white picture of elderly people drunkenly cavorting. On the back, she had drawn pictures of the raccoons she saw. Then I got a postcard from a friend with an illustration by David Shrigley called “The Lecture You Gave Was Not Well Received,” with pictures of little heads in a classroom yelling, “BORING,” “RUBBISH,” and “I WANT TO KILL YOU.” Take that, hyperlinked memes you click every day.

I’ve started making notecards with my own art by photocopying small (5x7) acrylic paintings on cardstock. Companies like Zazzle.com can cheaply print any image you like. I send sets of them to friends as gifts (which I hope also inspires them to write on them and send greetings to someone else).

Of course, there’s also every kind of pre-existing postcard and stationery set out there. Some excellent places to start are Polite Cards, publisher of the aforementioned David Shrigley card, along with many other original and funny artists’ work and most museum gift shops (I like this “Greetings from Brooklyn” set, perhaps guaranteed to intrigue a response out of the recipient if you’re sending from somewhere less obvious than that borough).

If you want to marvel at prices and how seriously some people take this stationery business, check out Dempsey and Carroll’s exquisite designs and engraving. You’ll see a personalized “silhouette: sand” set of notecards for $1,775. Before that drives you to bury your head in Facebook, consider that you can pick up a cheapie postcard with a picture of the beach on it, spring for the 33 cent stamp and wait for your friend to appreciate it on Instagram.

By Zoe Mendelson, 22, reporting from New York, NY, on amazing, long-form storytelling (Lolita! Beyoncé!) via emoji

Texting is an unfortunately flat method of communication; it fails at transmitting tone. This is why emoticons are important. “Let me now what you're up to tonight.” and “Let me know what you're up to tonight :P” are completely different messages. The first could come off to a friend as needy or awkwardly bossy, or to someone you're dating as a bit overbearing, even. The second would require external circumstances to read like the first or be misinterpreted. So, I think in the beginning simple smileys served this purpose.

Then they became something of a cultural phenomenon. There was even a song about them (LOL :) by Trey Songz). By the time emoji came around, smileys had taken on an irony, an element of retro kitsch. Besides, their intended use as shortcuts to replace words seemed senseless. It would take a lot longer to sift through four precariously devised categories looking for a car than it would to type c-a-r.

So we started using emoji for fun, because they were so random.

But then something more fun happened: attempts at long-form emoji storytelling. People I text with and I either got very bored or were procrastinating very hard, and we realized the full creative potential of the little ones. We started to construct actual stories with them, in a form of modern hieroglyphics.

Here's one by my boyfriend (a clearly very serious law student) called “A Relationship”:

Then we started to animate song lyrics. Here's my best friend's rendering of "Survivor" by Destiny's Child:

And here's my Lolita in sixty seconds:

Challenge your friends. Take emoji to the next level. This is a medium a lot more intriguing than Instagram built right into your phone. And even when you hit a moment that calls for some serious emoji compromise or innovation—like who plays Beyoncé?—at least you don't have to cast her as : ).

Get the full set of RED Hearts posts-in Fashion, Beauty, Entertainment, and News.

By Jordyn Turney, 23, reporting from San Diego on Kacey Musgraves, a singer-songwriter she loves

When country singer Kacey Musgraves’ debut single “Merry Go ‘Round” came out last fall, I was immediately floored. The clever, charming first-person tale of small-town ennui was full of the resignation and desperation that these places where a lot of Americans spend their lives—where I spent a lot of my life—are famous for. That one song reminded me so instantly and evocatively of the dirt road I grew up on that it inspired me to write a novel. Yes, it was that good.

And a couple of weeks ago, when Musgraves released the full album, Same Trailer Different Park, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it wasn’t just one song I loved, but all of them. The lyrics are catchy without being inane, beautiful but still bracing, and the music buoying them up is perfect. Gritty and pretty, this is the sort of country that feels like a throwback to earlier times and the classics that play in radio retrospectives. (It’s also the sort of country that plays on today’s primetime television: Musgraves co-wrote “Undermine” the duet that Juliette Barnes and Deacon Claybourne sang on the second episode of ABC’s Nashville.

No, you can’t say Musgraves makes candy-pop. Her music is irresistible and smart. It has staying power. And though “Merry Go ‘Round” continues to be my favorite—it did inspire an epic literary undertaking, remember—there’s enough room in my heart for every song on this album. From “My House,” the happy ode to RV-living, to the love-is-stupid anthem appropriately called “Stupid,” each of these songs is an emotion, or an experience, boiled down to its essence. Kacey Musgraves is a refreshingly real voice in music, one whose songs make the truths of small-town life big-time moving.

By Charlotte Steinway, 24, reporting from New York City on the romance and heartbreak of a new dating app

Only a few months ago, it was Snapchat that all my friends were abuzz about. Now, the app embraced by that most fickle college and post-graduate world is Tinder. But where Snapchat was presumably made for digital use among real-world people who already know each other, Tinder turns it around, taking digital connections into the real world. The dating world, that is.

Unlike dating sites OKCupid and Plenty of Fish, Tinder requires little to no effort to become a member. You're in—as long as you've got a Facebook account and are willing to let complete strangers view your mutual friends, interests and selection of curated profile pictures. Sign me up, I thought, because here I don't have to write up an extremely-witty-yet-totally-accessible profile and can find a couple of flattering (i.e. Instagram-filtered) pictures.

Sure. I'll let you know how that worked out for me in a moment. Till then, here's how Tinder works: You use a left or right swipe to indicate whether a person's photo, name, age and mutual friend or interest count is to your liking. So at heart, the app is just as rating-and-dating simple—and at that, nearly as superficial—as the now-archaic site Hot or Not. But what sets it apart is its geographic relevance (the app uses GPS to scan your location and match you with nearby users) and its chat function, which serves the sole purpose of launching a conversation between two users who have "liked" each other.

As a former sociology major, I found the user trends most fascinating. As a person potentially doing the liking and being liked, I found the results at turns scintillating, discouraging and hilarious.

Faced with the number of guys whose profile photos feature either Avicii or a recently caught fish (seriously, I got one about every eight swipes) to those who initiate conversation with, "So how many push ups can you do?" I've started to reconsider my enthusiasm for my immediate dating pool. But then every so often, you'll get matched with say, someone who went to college with your roommate, works in your office or randomly knows your best friend. And all of the sudden, you're reminded that you may just "meet" someone the very same way my own parents met 25 years ago—through mutual friends.

By Carey Dunne, 23, reporting from New York City on her volumes of affection for cool rooms full of books for borrowing

Libraries get a bad rap. They're dismissed as fusty nerd havens or avoided in post-traumatic student disorder as exam study hellholes.

Unfortunately, it is not well known that they are actually fun, and also, cool.

I love libraries: They are cathedrals of free knowledge. I got my first library card when I was five, from the New York Public Library on 42nd Street. White marble lions sit guarding this library, with Lego lion replicas just past the entrance. (Amazon.com is not guarded by lions, and also does not have a big ceiling painted with cherubs.) I knew that cards of this size and shape were important objects usually meant only for grown-ups. I flashed it at all who walked by on my way home, so they would see that I held the key to infinite wisdom and power.

For years, fiction writer Jorge Luis Borges was the director of the National Library of Argentina. In his famous short story The Library of Babel, he considered the institution's infinite power: “I suspect that the human species... is on the road to extinction, while the Library will last on forever: illuminated, solitary, infinite, perfectly immovable, filled with precious volumes, useless, incorruptible, secret.” I would add quiet to its virtues—in the city, sometimes the only haven of silence I can find. And, as Borges says: “Everything is there: the minute history of the future, the autobiographies of the archangels... the Gnostic gospel of Basilides, the commentary on this gospel, the commentary on the commentary of this gospel, the veridical account of your death, a version of each book in all languages.” Libraries also help build your muscles. I recently checked out Carl Jung's Red Book and weighed it: 10 pounds. Kindles and Nooks and iPads keep readers weak.

Most public libraries also have various free programs, say, an anime club for teens, story readings for kids and film screenings. Libraries also happen to be the best places to get new releases of DVDs—you don't have to buy them or wait months for them to be available on Netflix.

Plus, in the tradition of Borges's Babel and great storytelling, we present some of the Coolest Fictional Libraries:

In Buffy the Vampire Slayer: At the Sunnydale High School Library, Giles, like many librarians, is only disguised as a fuddy-duddy. In truth, he possesses ancient mystical wisdom. Buffy goes to him for vampire-slaying guidance and books about werewolves and demon eggs. The library is her main hang, aside from the cemetery.

In The Breakfast Club: Being stuck in the library goes from punishment to party.

In The Music Man: Marian, and the song about loving her madly, is proof that “librarian” is one of the world's most desirable jobs.

In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Hermione Granger's discovery of gillyweed in the “restricted section” means that Harry Potter would have died in book four if it weren't for libraries.

In Party Girl: I mean, this is the story of a broke dance club queen (Parker Posey) who discovers the seductive allure of the Dewey Decimal System. If you're not convinced, watch Posey dancing epically on library tables.

Three whispered cheers for libraries.

By Jessica Goodman, 22, reporting from Los Angeles on the hottest song out there

Every once in a while a song comes out that creates a movement, a "Call Me Maybe" or "Gangnam Style" we can't seem to get enough of. These songs catch on for a reason. They have a beat, a common message, or just hilarious new dance moves. Yet one amazing and enlightening song, "Girl On Fire" by Alicia Keys, offers so much more than that. It recognizes all the tough things we as girls and women do.

As musically irresistible as it is culturally important, and by an artist who's proved she's anything but a one-hit wonder, "Girl on Fire" has been grabbing some attention—but not enough, not covered-by-Cookie-Monster or at international Psy-levels. I personally think everyone out there should sing praise to Keys for her genius take on the power of girls and women to overcome obstacles and prove ourselves.

The lyrics make it easy for any girl to relate: "Looks like a girl, but she's a flame/So bright, she can burn your eyes/Better look the other way/You can try but you'll never forget her name. She's on top of the world." It's a strong message: This girl could be anyone. This girl could be you. Others see and admire her intelligence, her courage, her dedication—her fire. "Everybody stands as she goes by."

But the song tells a larger story, too. It shows you how far women have come. Keys debuted the song at her 2012 VMA performance, where she had Gabby Douglas up there doing flips, a perfect tribute to a year in which Yahoo named their first female CEO and our country elected a record number of women to serve in Congress.

Keys created an anthem that tells the world every woman and every girl has her challenges. This song is something to take into the new year, when you work on becoming a bigger and better version of yourself. It's your reminder that 2013 has barely begun, and there's so much that can (and will) happen. You know as well as Keys does that there's nothing diminutive about that "just" in "She's just a girl, and she's on fire."

By Charlotte Steinway, 24, reporting from New York, NY, on an amusing new app that has improved her sense of selfies

I first heard about Snapchat the same way I hear about most other important things in my life—events in the Middle East, album releases, my friends’ lunches—on Twitter. In fact I even remember the exact wording of the tweet that mentioned the once-unknown phenom: “Oh, so Snapchat is the app for sexting,” it read.

Obviously, I had to Google it. I found humor in the fact that the 21-year-old founder refuted all claims that Snapchat was intended to be a “sexting app." The way it works is you take a photo (presumably of yourself), and then set the amount of time that the recipient can view it before it disappears from their phone "forever." Plus, with a 12+ age rating on iTunes (for “mature/sexual themes & mild sexual content or nudity") and app images portraying girls in bikinis, it hardly seemed to be built just for sending funny selfies to friends.

But boy was I wrong. As someone who grew up when the selfie was in its incubation period (i.e., the MySpace era), I’ve come to appreciate the camera on my iPhone 4 almost as much as the next middle school tween. So I didn't need much convincing to download the free app, which Forbes deemed “the biggest no-revenue mobile app since Instagram.” Now, a week and a half later, I've found myself sending friends photos of my half-asleep visage in the middle of my open office plan, birthday cake scrawled with rainbow stars and hearts (in addition to being able to draw over the photo in Kid Pix-like colors, you're also able to add up to 36 characters of text), and even letting out the occasional LOL at my friends' photos. (These have included a checkered outfit choice emblazoned with the words "Gingham Style.") But by far the funniest part of the app is the fact that you receive a notification when the recipient takes a screenshot of the photo—and then there's nothing you can do to rescind it from their archive. Now that, my friends, is why I don't sext. Even if it is on Snapchat.

By RED editor Amy Goldwasser, reporting from NYC on one-of-a-kind, handpainted gifts—cookies and cards—that help an awesome organization in her neighborhood after a brutal storm

There are few things in this world closer to my heart than cookies and the Lower Eastside Girls Club. To think of them together brings me great joy. To know that they were both compromised by Hurricane Sandy makes me want to help. And eat cookies.

Now, for the holidays, all these sweet things come together, in a couple of entirely special, entirely handcrafted, entirely girl-made items: a Holiday Cookie Tin ($30 includes shipping to anywhere in the U.S.) and a collection of Celebrating Women Greeting Cards ($20 for a collection of 12).

These are gifts that benefit everyone involved—with original art and baked goods, yes, but also with post-storm relief and life-changing cultural and job programs for an amazing group of New York City girls, age 8 to 18, whose neighborhood and homes were hit hard. And the organization’s Sweet Things Bake Shop on Avenue C was flooded, just when high-season was about to bring mother-daughter baking teams employment for the holidays, their ovens fired up to meet demand. But our dedicated pastry chefs persevere! From donated kitchens around town, they’re making their worth-waiting-for-every-year gingerbread brownstone cookies (and even something called a pfeffernüsse), as exquisite and delicious as ever.

Less edible, though equally beautiful and arguably more educational, are the greeting cards (printed on recycled paper with earth-friendly inks) that include women worth telling the world about, Eleanor Roosevelt to Rosa Parks to Comandante Ramona. No two revolutionaries—like no two hand-painted snowflake butter cookies—are alike, and every one will spread cheer to the lucky person who receives it and the lucky girls of the Lower Eastside Girls Club.

By Jordyn Turney, 22, reporting from San Diego, CA, on the new album from Band of Horses, who always ride high on her list.

The list of artists whose albums I always, always buy is a short one, easily counted on one hand. And on this list is the indie-rock Band of Horses. It started with getting hooked on the song "The Funeral" from their debut LP, Everything All the Time, and then I discovered it wasn't just that one song I liked, but all of them.

With the Seattle band's fourth album Mirage Rock just out, I'm once again reminded of how much I love their music. The rustic sound of this new one is a change up from their earlier albums—which is always risky but admirable and in this case, really pays off. It’s a bit grittier, more solidly rock than the efforts that came before it. But the songs are just as sadly upbeat as ever, with melancholy lyrics set to impeccable, mountain-tinted beats. Music tends to make me think of images, and this latest Band of Horses offering conjure clear mountain skies, falling-down old houses with fading porches and drinks in mason jars.

While some of the songs, like "Shut-In Tourist," would easily fit in with their earliest albums, most of them, like the first track "Knock Knock," have a sound that's changed just enough. It’s markedly different while still being true to the Band of Horses I fell for. My personal favorite from the album has to be "A Little Biblical," an upbeat, catchy little ditty intriguingly matched with melancholy, more mature lyrics. And the closing song "Heartbreak on the 101" is a winding road trip well worth taking, proving that this band's talent is anything but a mirage.

By Emily-Nicole Johns, 24, reporting from New York, NY, on fun, adorable foods for the spooky season without the ghastly amounts of sugar

When it comes to Halloween, sure, I love the costumes and the extra layer of eyeliner and the DIY decorations. But my absolute favorites are the treats you can eat! Candy corn, monster pops, chocolate zombies, jelly brains, popcorn balls, and ANYTHING pumpkin-flavored…. I know, I’m scaring myself, too. If your October sweet tooth is anything like mine, who am I to say boo about it? You don’t have to deprive yourself. But it is worth working some whole foods into your diet of severed gummy fingers. The simple snacks here are Halloween central and great alternatives to taking in ghastly amounts of artificial ingredients and sugar.

Peanuts: Peanuts have little to no additives and preservatives and are packed with rich omega-3 fatty acids that boost brain function. For Halloween, you can turn these nuts into creepy little menaces by spraying them with black food coloring and water and roasting them in the oven for 20 minutes at 250 degrees.

Pretzels: These twisted snacks are surprisingly (and awesomely) high in calcium and vitamin B, which can help your eyesight in the haunted house. One tasty way to work them into a Halloween party is to sandwich almond butter between two whole-wheat crackers and stick pretzel "legs" into the sides. Add raisins for eyes (or craisins, if you’re after the bloodshot look). Another fun and adorable option—pretzels dressed as pumpkins!

Pumpkin: Don't even get me started on how much I love a pumpkin. Not only is this guy delicious, it's good for you, too! Pumpkin delivers vitamin C and fiber and enhances your immune system, essential during the cold season. The seeds are superstars as well. They help build stronger bones (no skeletons here!) and are absolutely delicious when roasted and topped with savory or sweet seasonings. Tessa, a college student turned cookbook author has a wonderful (almost) healthy pumpkin chocolate chip square recipe.

Apples: Apples are straight up your friend. They’re full of fiber, promote weight loss and are good for the heart. When it comes to Halloween and this fruit, I'm right back at a haunted corn maze, dressed like a Power Ranger (pink, obviously) and eating one covered in candy or caramel! For a healthier, homemade version of the caramel apple we all grew up with, check out this AWESOME recipe.

Popcorn: Popcorn is definitely one of my favorite snacks, all year round. And I just found out that it’s apparently rich in antioxidants, which help protect our cells from toxins. Hellooo Poptober! Here are ten ways to put a spooky spin on it.

Now stop your Snicker-ing and have a happy, healthy Halloween!

Get the full set of RED Hearts posts-in Fashion, Beauty, Entertainment, and News.

By Zulay Regalado, 23, reporting from Miami, FL, on her favorite books and foods—and flamenco dress past—to honor Latin American culture

One of my favorite months growing up was always September 15 to October 15—an intriguing mid-month to mid-month period to honor the many traditions and personalities of the Hispanic and Latin-American community during Hispanic Heritage Month. As a child, it was the one time of the year (besides Halloween, of course) that I could get away with parading around school in my native Cuban ruffled flamenco-style dress. It was also a month filled with all the yummy empanadas and tamales that I could get my hands on, and books—a lot of books.

Each day was a new opportunity to learn about iconic writers such as Pablo Neruda and Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who paved the road for many Latin-American authors. While I am not currently parading around my college campus in said ruffled flamenco dress, my love for Latin-American literature carries on.

Here are some of my favorite reads for one of my favorite months of the year:

Call Me Maria by Judith Ortiz-Cofer
Fifteen-year-old Maria is a native Puerto Rican living on the island with her mother. When she makes the decision leave her home and move to the barrio of New York with her father, Maria struggles to balance the two layers of her culture. While she's trying to adjust to completely foreign surroundings, she finds an original and life-changing solace in poetry.

Graffiti Girl by Kelly Parra
Angel Rodriguez is an independent young woman who lives in a struggling neighborhood. In an effort to overcome her surroundings, she focuses on making a name for herself in the art world through her painting. The road is longer than Angel imagined (of course it is), and she must eventually choose between two graffiti artists who are vying for her talent and her heart.

Estrella's Quinceañera by Malin Alegria
While it is tradition in Hispanic culture for a girl's fifteenth birthday to be nothing short of a huge celebration, Estrella wants no part of the cheesy hype. Her mother, however, insists on throwing her the biggest party possible, complete with a mariachi band and an enormous dress. It's a trying time for Estrella as she tries to fight off her mother's dead- set ways, grow into her own person and, most importantly, date a boy who she knows would never be accepted into her family. She's got to grow up someday, no?

Grab an empanada and enjoy!

By Jessica Goodman, 22, reporting from Los Angeles on a new album that lifts the "Call Me Maybe" star out of one-hit wonderdom

Is it late enough into September to start thinking Billboard's 2012 Song of the Summer has year-round staying power? Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe" has hovered in the top of the Billboard Hot 100 for 29 weeks now, and "the most catchiest song I've ever heard" (that's fellow Canadian and CRJ discoverer Bieber talking) has created a YouTube movement, as lip-synced by Harvard's baseball team, Miss USA contestants, Olympic athletes and just about everyone else. It's so infectiously viral that even Cookie Monster has his hand in the jar.

This is a song you just can't get sick of!

Which means...this is a singer with a lot of pressure on what comes next. Carly Rae Jepsen's freshman album Kiss was released this Tuesday, and it seems the whole world, Sesame Street to Main Street, is watching. One wonders if she's just another one-hit wonder.

Even though I went into to this album with that same skepticism, I believe Kiss is more than a maybe vote for Jepsen's staying power. It's a collection of sixteen songs that any girl can relate to. She pretty much puts music to the unspoken words on the tips of our tongues and telephones—those things we know we feel but just don't know how to say.

"The Kiss," the new single, really captures that universal romantic agony of "The kiss is something I can't resist...I wish it didn't feel like this." I won't tell you how it ends, but it's about learning to trust your heart and take risks.

I think Jepsen has a huge chance at making it beyond the meme. Her music and her passion remind me a lot of Taylor Swift, who has had tremendous success from album to album. "Call Me Maybe" was just the first sign of what this girl has to offer. I expect we'll be calling for more music for many years and most-vieweds to come.

By Lisa Chau, who turns 24 today (happy birthday, Lisa!), reporting from Ann Arbor, MI, on the magic of buying books in the real world

I used to make my older sister drive me to the bookstore so I could buy the newest Harry Potter before it sold out. It took a lot of persuading and many promised back rubs. I would go home with a crazed grin on my face, plop on the couch, and read while telling myself, "Oh, I only have half the book left...I only have a few chapters...one more page!!!" until I finished, realizing that I had forgotten to eat any meals (true love can do this to you). Certainly there was no time in there for giving massages.

Of course, it now takes seconds to simply click and have reading material appear in front of your eyes. Everything is too easy these days (gosh, I sound so old!). As convenient as eBooks are, I want to hold on to buying physical books for as long as I can. Finding real books is way more magical than being able to access thousands with a tap. The experience of it all still matters to me.

Also, there are still tons of books written before my time that I'm dying to read, not just the new ones. And there's no way my wallet will ever be able to keep me in crispy new pages. Lucky for me, I like used books. The wear and tear of the cover, the funky smell of glue and paper, and surprises like finding a super cool Sauron bookmark in my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring fill my heart with that fuzzy feeling never conjured in cyberspace or megastores.

With Friends of the Library organizations across the country, you can buy used books for as little as 50 cents. Simply ask your local public library if they have a program (they probably do)! A few weeks ago I went to The Friends of the Ann Arbor District Library sale and found The Bluest Eye (classic), My Horizontal Life (the previous owner had underlined the word "fart" and nothing else), and a battered copy of A Clash of Kings (I know you're a Game of Thrones fan) for THREE DOLLARS!

Since Borders became an empty and lonely space on one of the busiest corners of downtown Ann Arbor, Dawn Treader has become my favorite bookstore to stroll into on a whim—and it's independent. My BFFL Yelp can help you find an indie bookstore near you (that's the kind of easy clicking I approve of). If people don't continue to buy their books in stores, there won't be any bookstores in the near future, eBooks will take over, our kids won't know what books are, paper will become extinct, we'll forget how to write, and the world as we know it will never be the same. Too dramatic? I think not.

If you've got your arms full of unwanted books (do me a solid and NEVER do this), donate them! Used bookstores and Friends of the Library programs will gladly take them out of your hands and put them into the hands of those who do want them—in a real-world act of Harry Potter-worthy magic.

by Zulay Regalado, 23, reporting from Miami, FL, on facing her fears and singing for her summer

Singing has always been a passion that I’ve held dear to myself—and my shower. That’s about it. If you’re like me, you cringe at the thought of standing, let alone singing, within sight of more people than you can count on both hands. I can forget basic conversational English the second I have to introduce myself to a few strangers. Should you share my affliction, here’s a fun way, I swear, to soothe your nerves this summer: open mic nights.

Facing your fear and putting yourself out there will feel like the greatest accomplishment of your life. Basically because the idea terrified me, I decided to make good use of my summer without schoolwork and found a few venues close to home that cater to amateur performers—open mic nights can feature anything from poetry and monologue readings to comedy to your own rendition of your favorite Adele song. My first time on the mic, I imagined all 30 bodies in the room walking out in unison while I sat on a dark stage in shame. But the image melted away the second I closed my eyes and began to sing “Misery” by Pink and Steven Tyler. I knew I was hooked.

By then I realized it didn't even matter to me if I'd scared away the entire audience (I didn't, not a one). I was having a blast and sharing my love of music with others. I'm convinced it's the bonding going on in that room—the very human experience of risking and surviving public humiliation—that has even led to me making a few musician friends who want to feature me on their demo albums!

If it's your first time on the mic, here are some tips to help shake the stage fright:

-Choose a piece that makes you happy and comfortable: What's your go-to in real life? What do you read or sing or listen to when no one's watching and you want to cheer yourself up? That same magic will work on an audience. For me, beyond the rare Pink and Steven Tyler collaboration, I'm happiest with Adele (and have realized you don't need to be the British queen of soul herself to kill it on stage).

-Invite some friends! Nothing like having some familiar faces front row cheering you on.

-Feel out your crowd and engage them as much as possible. Open mic crowds are generally a no-judge zone, so don't worry about acting silly or throwing in some quirky one-liners before you perform. If you're feeling extra fearless, take requests.

While I may not be fearlessly selling out arenas all over town just yet, I’m slowly expanding my social network and developing better conversational skills. Most important, I’ve learned to never let my nerves keep me from doing what makes me happy. Who knows, maybe you’ll see me on American Idol someday. Just remember to vote for me.

By Alison Smith, 21, reporting from Allston, MA, on a misunderstood artist's—and idol of hers since elementary school—long-awaited return

There’s something about Fiona Apple, in her music and in interviews, that’s always on the edge of falling apart, right there on the verge of a catastrophic explosion. But that’s her power; to call her fragile would be a severe misinterpretation.

An artist who’s been ridiculed for 15 years as overly angsty, somber and unappreciative, Apple’s discomfort in the spotlight only adds to the art she chooses to release—again, on her fourth album, The Idler Wheel..., which is out this Tuesday. “I just want to feel everything,” is the strength you can’t fault her for, and one she repeats in “Every Single Night,” the first single off The Idler Wheel…. (And in true Apple idiosyncrasy, these ellipses are not actual ellipses, but a stand-in for the 20 words that follow.) Yes, TIWIWTTDOTSAWCWSYMTRWED is a perfect reintroduction to Apple after a major recording gap following her last album, 2005’s Extraordinary Machine.

“Every Single Night” takes the listener from quiet melismas to tribal booms. The song falls in line with Apple’s themes of contrasting melancholy, inwardly directed yearns with commanding outbursts. The music video was released last weekend and features images of a giant octopus, snails, and Apple spooning a skeleton. As a fan who has placed Apple on an (anti-heroine) pedestal since elementary school, I value the last moment of the video, when her eyes widen jokingly, in exaggerated resistance to being the star.

The rest of the new album, streamed early on NPR, is rife with guttural growls. But the most surprising moment takes place on the final track, "Hot Knife," when a schoolyard chant overturns Apple's declaration that she is butter and her man is a hot knife. The chant, giving dominance instead to Apple as the hot knife, is a refreshing change of pace. The lyrics put her in a position of confidence in non-broken relationships.

While I am incredibly excited for The Idler Wheel…’s release, I’m equally delighted to have Apple back in the press. (Check out her infamous 1997 Best New Artist acceptance speech at the VMA’s) She’s always been refreshingly outspoken about misconceptions of her character and music. This time around, we can hope the reluctant role model—more hot knife than butter—continues to move young girls to reject the judgments placed upon them and to employ their individual voices.