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I chose a strange time in my life to start watching Gilmore Girls. On the one hand, I could identify with the puckish and cherubic Rory in that we were both less intelligent than we claim to be and also that we lived and went to school in Connecticut. On the other, I hate Connecticut. I assure you, I don’t attend university in Connecticut for anything the state has to offer like its weird obsession with WASPs, nor for the Wi-Fi signal in my dorm room that struggles to get a strong connection not unlike my escapades on Grindr. I attend for the wonderful people I have met, the generous and kind faculty that bestows their wisdom in one ear and out the other, and the infrequent times they have churros. Continue reading