Gabe Gunnink

Gabe Gunnink (’14) lives in Seattle, where he works for a European travel company and gawks at the landscapes and skylines surrounding him. In his free time, he enjoys practicing Portuguese under his breath on city buses, running far enough to justify eating an entire pan of cinnamon rolls, and faithfully implementing Oxford commas.

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Existential Check-Up

Now, if you’ll sit over here, I’m just going to take your anxiety. You’re going to feel some tightness. That’s normal. Okay?

The Marblelympic Spirit

So, please tune in to the Marblelympics because it is the low stakes competition you need in your life, because it is a dazzling little world, and because I really need people I can talk about this with, you guys!

My Only Comfort

Now that my grandma has died, though, I feel almost embarrassed when people comfort me. I find myself dodging and deflecting each earnest, brow-furrowed condolence with chipper sound bytes: “It was a mercy at this point.” “It was a long time coming.” “I actually had a great time with my family. It was so fun to see my cousins from out of town!” I refuse to play into the cliché.

The Flowers in Seattle

Never before in my life have I been physically stopped in my tracks by the scent of flowers. Never until I moved to Seattle.

The Great Tassel Shaft

I want the noble purpose of an educator without having to put in the hours. I want to retain a teacher’s saintly glow without having to fight for the daily miracles.

Gays on Ice

Which is why it is so wonderful to see Adam Rippon glorified for his femininity. And which is why it’s so wonderful to see that he does not carry the queer Olympic torch alone.


My heart thunders as I pass the unglittering sign staking out the bucking bronco state: WELCOME TO WYOMING – FOREVER WEST. Here, I think, lies a land I’ve never traveled.

Out and Back

And I realized these are the first things: not medals or adventures, but the cinch of laces around a foot and reliable slide of mud and bitter perfume of sweat rising like smoke off shoulders.


Meanwhile, I am childless, jobless, and directionless. I don’t feel that I’ve wasted my time, and I don’t feel dismayed, but I’m also tired of feeling crushed under the weightlessness of potential and gawking at figs like stars I could never align.

Charli XCX and the Female Gaze

The song and video are so simply adorable that it would be tempting to brush them off as frivolous. But indulging that temptation would be dismissing a cultural commentary of Beyoncé proportions.

I’ll Make a Man Out of Me

This week, I decided to spend a day allowing society (a.k.a. the internet) to tell me exactly how I should be a man. For one day I would dress, drink, and spend my time how the cyber arbiters of masculinity determined.


Sometimes, though, I wonder where my personality ends and my OCD begins. Or if they’re distinct at all.

Four Easters and a Funeral

Christmas is always the musk of dusty angel robes and glow of Christmas tree lights on the hardwood floor. Easter, however, is rarely the same twice.

Postcards from Queer Camp

There’s nothing like bustling down the baking needs aisle with a week’s supply of Oreos yelling out for “Anthill!” to make you realize you’re not currently leading a traditional life.

La Malinche Trump

This narrative of Melania as a sly badass emerged through a series of clickable Internet conspiracy theories.

An Ode to the Road

Never have I felt more American / than lying on my back in a middle Illinois / gas station, duct taping my car together

Principles of Something

For this reason, merely believing in “something” is not half-hearted or vague, but both mind-blowing and earth-shattering.

The Gang Causes Gabe Moral Unease

That is exactly what It’s Always Sunny manages to do; it takes the depravity we all hold in common and, with a little creativity and a lot of imagination, makes it feel oddly magical.

Friends Like These

Success, money, fame, and even romance feel laughably conceptualized when placed against the visceral reality of friends singing along the highway and filling the car with farts.

Family Portraits

In the evening we venture out into the city that she has called “the armpit of California” and find a place to procure some burritos. As we eat, Aunt Ellen tells me about her world travels.

Learning to Mourn

What I really want the smiling broadcasters to say is that there is no silver lining. This is not an opportunity or a warning call or a new beginning. It is an ending, and endings should be mourned.

A Grandmotherly Half-Truth

It frustrates me to hear people complain that they feel like they’re choosing between two evils or that they’ll just stay home on Election Day or that they’ll pack up and move to Canada if things don’t go their way.


I think that we must search out new pastures for play—Scottish dancing, Settlers of Catan, scuba-diving. When we begin to lose springiness in one area, we must seek it in another.