Alive Magazine... December '08/ January '09 by Jen Dotson

MAGAZINE

STRAPPED FOR CASH: FACING THE COST OF EDUCATION

A DREAMER’S CONFESSION

CRAFTy CARDS & CLASSy CASES

NOT yOUR

AvERAGE SONG

& DANCE

deceMber ’08 / january ’09

A WORD FROM THE DIRECTOR

In Defense of Dreams by jENNIFER DOTSON

perhaps for all of us the greatest heartbreak a huMan May face is not the failure of our first love or the loss of a loved one, but on a More cataclysMic scale, the death of our dreaMs.

enerations have sought hard after different ideals over the years in search of some status, achievement, some fame or comfort to mark the summation of their dreams. Here we are: a new generation entering adulthood with, as the saying goes, “the world at our fingertips.” A maze of footprints is there to follow if we so choose, but our way will be marked by our own smudged fingerprints on the windows of opportunity. Whether we turn doorknobs to walk through new doorways, tunnel our way out with spoons or shimmy up the chimney, the choice is ours to make – both as individuals and as a generation: what we will strive for, how we will get there and what monument will be ours to attain. We call them dreams.

How they interact with reality is what this issue of Alive Magazine will explore; how dreams (both unconscious and unrealized) lead our lives, shape our pursuits and propel us out of bed each morning. But what is a dream, and why do they formulate? Why are dreams so important to us, so intrinsically connected to who we are? Surely if dreams are so powerful as to fuel revolutions and spark the direction of individuals’ lives, they must be explored. It seems that dreams tend to formulate around life’s deepest ironies. The girl who feels socially awkward dreams of attaining poise enough to perform in front of audiences. The girl who was abused at an early age works to help others who have experienced abuse. The guy who was raised in poverty pursues a career in ﬁnance. Perhaps it is this irony that gives dreams their meaning, which causes us to act. Like a touch to a hot stove when you thought it was cool, the movement that results is involuntary – a motion that first recoils, then swells, but then instructs your future behavior. Similarly, our greatest dreams often form in the recesses of our deepest fear. Perhaps for all of us the greatest heartbreak a human may face is not the failure of our first love or the loss of a loved one, but on a more cataclysmic scale, the death of our dreams. We can all think of older people who – certainly for logical reason – have lost their vibrancy, and whose attitudes have begun to slouch over the years, leaving a wake of cynicism and bitter commentary in their tow. But yet we sometimes label those adults whose ideals do remain as ‘childish’ or ‘juvenile’. It is that season of our lives that young people most deeply fear: the day when our buoyant optimism and belief in humanity begins to fade. As children, we are devastated to find that fairy tales do not exist, and playing make-believe is a habit we’re expected to outgrow. as children we are devestated to find that fairy tales do not eXist, and playing Make-believe is a habit we’re eXpected to outgrow. I’ll always remember the summer after I graduated from college and was living with my grandparents while looking for jobs and volunteering for Alive. On many afternoons I would drive downtown and sit in a busy coffee shop just to be surrounded by the energy of people working. I had fun in this unknown world without classes or structure and likened it to playing ‘dress-up’ when I was a little girl: one day I’d go dressed in a business suit with my laptop, another day sweaty from a long run to sit and read a book, and another day in gauchos, toting my sketch book with my hair in a head-wrap like a hip young artist. I remember on those days experimenting with my own sense of identity, enjoying the freedom of being a stranger and the

joy of just being a colorful splash in a sea of busy people. I’d formulate imaginary narratives for the people’s lives around me, dreaming of what path led them there and where my own path would lead me. In the meantime, I think my grandparents just wanted me to get a job. Perspective, it seems, is the glass through which we see the world, and its color is determined by circumstance. Different generations, personalities, and life events lead individuals to handle dreams with very different perspectives. In difficult economic times, it often feels as though dreams should take a last priority, with no undue attention given to anything except putting food on the table, paying down loans, and starting or supporting a family. However, dreams endured during the Great Depression, and dreams will endure today, because as humans, we discover our own character in our dreams, and can then fling them out into the daylight. In this issue, you’ll find a variety of articles on the topic of dreams – both real and fanciful, asleep and awake. You’ll read interviews with children and seniors, both of whose dreams are still evolving. You might resonate with David Henke’s experience of a post-college quest for vocation, laugh out loud reading the otherworldly comedy of Natalie Neal’s unconscious adventures or identify with Amy Larsen’s overall suspicion of dreams. Whatever the case and however they find you, may this winter be a season when dreams adorn your waking as colorful companions in both daytime and darkness.

Executive Director

table of content

H F C T Y A I W N

THINK

2 In Defense of Dreams by Jennifer Dotson Here we are: a new generation entering adulthood with, as the saying goes, “the world at our fingertips.” A maze of footprints is there to follow if we choose, but our way will be marked by...

FLAIR

8 Crafty Cards & Classy Cases by Laura Barton, Madeline Veenker and Karissa Wagner | photography by Megan Foss

a word from our editors

creative styles & ways to add personal flair to current trends

CONSIDER

news-related stories relavant to you and your world

TASTE

favorite dorm recipes, snack ideas, & cafeteria creations

GLIMPSE

one-sentence answers to our favorite questions

Those who don’t typically think of themselves as “crafty” may be intimidated by homemade card making...

10 Strapped for Cash: Facing the Cost of Education by Stephanie Green | photography by Danica Myers

“Your mom and I were talking” – it’s never good when ‘they talk’ – “and we’ve decided you need to take out another loan to pay for school this semester.” It was my turn to sigh.

12 Simple Cinnamon Sugar Biscuits by Alennah Westlund | photography by Karissa Wagner

You are sick of carefully scrutinizing the cafeteria’s ‘pancakes’ and are definitely fed up with the usual bowl of cereal. So, on a luxurious day of winter break, why not indulge... for breakfast?

13 Picturing Everyday Beauty by Alive Readers

What is something that scares you? I get scared of dinosaurs... Proudest moment in life? My son was the first black student to graduate from Fridley High School.

AIM

19 Is That All You’ve Got? by Alana Rainey | illustrations by Danica Myers inspiring successes, curious ambitions, & unique interests

IMAGINE

how would you change the world, if given the opportunity?

wonder answers to life’s hard-to-ask questions

MEND

picking up the pieces when life falls apart

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. I walked to receive my diploma at graduation and suddenly my life was my own.

22 Running from Stereotypes by Caitlin Winey

I couldn’t have been more wrong about Greek Life. The media and people I asked had always given me the impression that who I am, as a runner and conservative person, wouldn’t fit into the Greek world.

24 A Dreamer’s Confession by Amy Larsen | photography by Lauren Gallagher

I am becoming suspicious of dreams. I’m sure you know people who don’t go for the “follow your dreams” mantra, arguing instead for practicality, or self-sacrifice or whatever.

26 The Truth Is by Pinalben “Pinky” Patel | illustration by Abby Zimmer I need a fair amount of assistance in everything I do... I am dependent on a wheelchair and on people. Apparently, becoming anyone’s wife or girlfriend is out of the question for me.

Megan Dirks, contributing artist, grew up in rural Iowa with a keen curiosity for the local flora and fauna. She’s been holding a paintbrush since before she could read, and is constantly looking for food in the form of music and art. Her current interests include making extravagant travel plans, applying to graduate school and making art.

Lauren Gallagher, graphic design intern, from northwest Ohio who likes to ride bikes and draw pictures. She wants to give Chuck Close and Michelle Branch a high five someday. She is hopefully on her way to becoming a full-time traveling-filmmaking-barista-spray-painting musical artist.

Stephanie Green, contributing writer, is a big fan of Vincent Van Gogh, cookies and summertime. She is a senior at Bethel University in St. Paul, Minn. and loves the Twin Cities, but her heart truly lies in her sweet home of Chicago, Ill. If she’s not writing a story, writing in her journal or writing letters, she’s probably daydreaming about writing. Jaclyn Hallstrom, contributing writer, enjoys spending time at Barnes and Noble, attending movie premieres and discovering new places in Los Angeles. Conversations about Christianity and how faith intersects with Hollywood excite her greatly. Jaclyn grew up in Woodbury, Minn. and each day continues the journey to become a film producer. David Henke, contributing writer, graduated from St. Olaf College with a degree in English. He is the Arts and Education reporter at the Northfield News in Northfield, Minn., and was recently recognized by the Minnesota Newspaper Association. He loves poetry, water skiing and is the most devious and conniving board game player that you’ll ever meet. Amy Larsen, contributing writer, grew up in Sioux Falls, SD, and studied psychology at St Olaf College. In September of 2008, she began a yearlong position at Camp Amnicon, on the south shore of Lake Superior. She loves being with all life forms in the woods (especially people), and writing. The future is a mystery!

Virginia Muirhead, contributing writer, can often be found at the beach when not singing, playing music, reading or boxing. Originally from New Zealand, but currently living in southern Australia, the travel bug bit her early, and she plans on traveling to one country every year for the rest of her life.

Natalie Neal, senior contributing writer, is an English and philosophy of fine arts: design double major at St. Olaf College. She has fiery passions for dancing, designing, writing, acting and playing soccer. Few people know she has her black belt in karate, learned to read French before English and has a brown-striped birthmark in her right eye. cover photo by jeanne foels; back cover photo by caitlyn brown

contributors

Laura Barton, contributing writer, is a junior at Bethel University studying international relations and communication. Laura grew up in New Brighton, Minn., in a house with a lot of people and a lot of love. She loves music, travel, fondue and her dog. Her greatest aspiration in life is to grow closer to Christ each day.

table of content

Z D U M R B V L

GAZE

art for art’s sake... and your viewing pleasure

DISCOVER what makes you come alive?

MUSE

original poetry and fresh lyrics

MISCHIEF

tales of fiction, truth, shenanigans & friendly foolery

MISTER life from his perspective

believe

finding God in unexpected places

GROOVE

music, dance, and other inspiring sounds

LISTEN

perspectives on life from someone older and wiser

28 In Limine by Megan Dirks

My paintings juxtapose opposing forces of disorder and structure, speculating the dualities of nature/culture, feminine/masculine, and conscious/unconscious, and thresholds of balance.

34 A Venti, Non-fat, Hollywood Honeymoon by Jaclyn Hallstrom

Last month I moved to West Hollywood from my dear home state of Minnesota... I have never been more convinced and confident that I’m supposed to be in Hollywood.

38 A Stiff Complaint by Virginia Muirhead | photography by Jennifer Dotson

Where is the preparation for our death? Weddings are planned for months and set. My funeral has but days! While frosty cakes are debated and roses bound for bridal hand…

39 A Rescue Mission by Natalie Neal | illustrations by Danica Myers and Karissa Wagner

“Natalie, we were captured – Kelly, Sonja and I – but I managed to escape,” Emily gasped between her heavy breaths.

42 A View From the Crossroads by David Henke | painting by Abby Zimmer

Simply put, I was scared to settle down, to choose one option above the rest. What I didn’t realize until later, however, was that graduation isn’t necessarily the end-all, be-all of life.

43 I Dreamt of Finding God by Lisa Teicher | illustrations by Megan Foss

I remember being in the middle of nowhere yelling at the top of my lungs, “HELLO UP THERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? A LITTLE HELP DOWN HERE!”

46 Not Your Average Song and Dance by Nicolle Westlund | photos provided by CDP

The term ‘professional dancer’ elicits a variety of images. The skimpy outfits of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders may define the term. The dedicated lifestyle of a prima ballerina is another.

50 Memoir story and photos provided by Romana Osborne

That’s what we were told. That we were going on a vacation. We boarded a midnight train to Austria, unsuspecting... we learned of our parents’ plan, and we became homeless overnight.

Pinalben â&#x20AC;&#x153;Pinkyâ&#x20AC;? Patel, contributing writer, was born and raised in India, and moved to and from the United States until 1998. She is interested in creative writing and wants to become a published novelist and a poet. She likes to watch figure skating and gymnastics, to learn about world cultures and geography, and loves seeing people smile from her writing. Alana Rainey, contributing writer, lives an hour from her favorite Oregon beach. She is most comfortable sleeping outside and starting fires with wet driftwood. As a fitness trainer, she strives to make each workout fun and only slightly painful. The only music she allows is rock at a high volume (with the exception of Celine Dion at a lower volume). Madeline Veenker, contributing writer, is a junior at Bethel University studying vocal performance. Madeline grew up in New Brighton, Minn., and has loved singing and performance her entire life. She also enjoys children, crafts, fashion risks and baking. One day, she aspires to be an opera singer, though not a diva.

Alennah Westlund, contributing writer, is an obsessive compulsive coffee drinker who enjoys labeling and organizing any and everything in her life. Her favorite color is green and she picks out her school outfits a week in advance. She has her own dessert cookbook and has yet to find a movie that will legitimately scare her.

Caitlin Winey, contributing writer, attends Arkansas State University as a business marketing major. You can find her running hurdles on the track every day, and she embraces the fact that her entire family is extremely tall. Caitlin misses her hometown in Minnesota, and plans to live the rest of her life in the great land of 10,000 lakes.

ALIVE MAGAZINE: DECEMBER/JANUARY 2008 Published by Alive Arts Media, Inc. Executive Director Jennifer Dotson Managing Editor Lauren Melcher Artistic Director Danica Myers Founder and Board Chair Heather Scheiwe Board of Directors Martha Franke Vernae Hasbargen Judy Jandro Heather Mattson

Jim Scheibel Janelle Schulenberg Poetry Editor Kelin Loe Assistant Editors Emily Byers-Ferrian Jaclyn Rainey Nicolle Westlund Graphic Designers Megan Foss Karissa Wagner Abby Zimmer

Advertising Amanda CasaDeCalvo Community Outreach Lisa Teicher Finance Director Wendy Sturlaugson Alive Arts Media 1720 Madison St. NE Suite 300 Minneapolis, MN 55413 www.alivemagazine.org All rights reserved.

contributors

Romana Osborne, contributing writer, lives on the West coast of Canada. She is a wife, a mother of two sons and one stepdaughter and an owner of a fabulous little dog. Romana is originally from Prague, Czech Republic. Her aspirations are to write and travel the world with her husband.

& by MADELINE vEENKER & LAURA bARTON

1. Raid your old picture stash. Add-

ing a humorous picture makes the card more personalized and shows that you put time and thought into it. In the age of scanners and Facebook, you should be able to find some good ones.

2. Use an inside joke. Rather than put-

CRAFTY CARDS Greeting cards can be expensive, especially if you need to buy them for a lot of friends and family. Plus, limited selection often means you end up settling for something generic simply because it’s the least “mockable” option.

An alternative to purchasing greeting cards is making them yourself. Not only is it less expensive, but it also comes across as more thoughtful and will probably be more enjoyable for both you and the recipient. Those who don’t typically think of themselves as “crafty” may be intimidated by homemade card making, but there’s nothing too scary about it – except maybe glue sticks. If you need help getting started, check out these easy tips:

ting someone’s picture next to a Christmas tree or birthday cake, why not incorporate it into a scene of a funny story – like that time your friend got chased by a badger. Or, if you can’t think of a funny inside joke, at least give your friend bad hair.

3. Look to newspapers and magazines for inspiration. Newspapers and

magazines are great sources of ideas that are readily available and generally inexpensive – you probably have some lying around your house right now. Strange ads can provide humor, and if you’re feeling insecure about your handwriting or artistic skill, cut out letters, words, pictures and backgrounds and add them to your card.

4. Mixed media always adds. Texture, layers and pop-outs – whatever is eye-catching and unique will make your card more original and memorable. Don’t hesitate to mix paint and wrapping paper, crayons and markers, tissue paper and rhinestones, or fabric and cardstock.

5. Write a meaningful inscription.

Even if the rest of your card is ridiculous, make sure what you have to say is sincere, so the person knows she’s fun but not a joke.

And a word of encouragement – if at the end of the day, your homemade greeting card is looking a little pathetic, it will still be quite memorable. Embrace your inner madness, à la Marilyn Monroe who said, “It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” 8

CLASSY CASES by karissa wagner

I was rushing out the door, already five minutes late for work with no time to return home before class. I threw a blank CD into my backpack, and when I went to use it, I discovered it was ruined. Apparently the clutter in my backpack scratched it beyond readability. Now, if this CD had been the only one having ended with such a fate, it would have been no big deal. However, it was only one of many. And then, the perfect solution: I combined my collection of old magazines (about to be recycled because I was packing for a move) with my paper-folding abilities (minimal, but sufficient) and designed envelopes that slip easily into my bags and keep my discs safe. Now, I use them as easy gift wrapâ&#x20AC;Ś recyclable and custommade to the personality of my friends.

DIRECTIONS:

Make a fold about 1.5â&#x20AC;? along the side of the magazine page. Fold magazine page in half horizontally. Open page back up.

On both ends of the page make a fold about a centimeter in width. Apply rubber cement to the folds (tabs) of magazine. Let glue dry completely. Carefully fold page in half again and line up glued tabs. (Once the sides with dried glue meet, they will permanently stick). Voila! Slide CD in opening. If you want it to close, just fold top section over. 9

C Strapped for Cash:

facing the cost of education by STEPHANIE GREEN PHOTOGRAPHy by DANICA MyERS

It was only a month into my last semester of college when I received a phone call from my father. “Hey Steph,” he said in a low, disconcerting voice. He sighed heavily. “Hi Dad,” I answered with trepidation, anxious by the tone he set for the conversation. “What’s up?” “Your mom and I were talking” – it’s never good when ‘they talk’ – “and we’ve decided you need to take out another loan to pay for school this semester.” It was my turn to sigh. After having taken out more and more money in loans each year, another loan added to the pile brought my inevitable debt closer to the brink of ‘just too much.’ It seemed unreal; I was so close to finishing college. I was months away from the freedom of not having to pay another semester’s thousands of dollars. In my college career, I had taken all possible steps to avoid pulling more cash from my pocketbook – I managed, even with two majors, to set my graduation date a semester early; I bought used books online for bottomof-the-barrel prices, and sold them at the end of each semester; I even recycled notebooks, folders and supplies over years of courses. Why, after feeling as if I’d been so smart with my money, did I still have to borrow more? 10

“We’re strapped for cash,” my dad replied. He loves to use that word, ‘strapped.’ All my life things have been ‘strapped’ – money, time, patience, etc. Whenever my dad declared something ‘strapped,’ we all knew it was best to step back and give him his space. Eventually, he always came back with a more positive outlook. Unfortunately, this time I knew his trademark statement had a little more gravity. “OK Dad, I’ll do what I can,” I said to him. My response, though seemingly vague, reflected my decision to do much more than just apply for another school loan – it reflected the need to educate myself on the functions of the economy, what I will need to do after I graduate and start paying back borrowed money, and what I can do to ensure this cost burden won’t hurt so much for me or for others. I know I’m not alone in the struggle to pay for college – just the other day, I heard my roommate end a phone conversation with her father with the same grave statement: “OK Dad, I’ll do what I can.” It isn’t easy for any of us. In the spring of 2008, several student loan lenders including Total Higher Education, TCF Bank and Academic Funding Group discontinued their distribution of Stafford and PLUS loans due to the credit crisis. Many students were forced to look to other banks for financial support.

What could have been a disaster for many students left without a lender, however, is turning out for some to be an educational turning point.

your parents were denied a PLUS loan, discuss with your school’s financial aid office the possibility of getting increased limits on unsubsidized Stafford loans.

Bethel University senior Sarah Whitson said switching her lender to Wells Fargo helped her learn more about the functions of banks and loans, and shifted her focus to the value of her education.

Apart from continuing to be smart with my money, I know can’t change the nation’s current state of economic affairs alone. What I can change, however, is how much I know about financial aid. So I’ll bite the bullet, take out another loan, and educate myself on the future of my finances. The last thing I want is to be ‘strapped’ for anything else but time to study for my final exams before I graduate.

“Sometimes it’s hard to remind myself that being in school is a choice, and that I’m lucky to be in college,” she said. “Yeah, it’s hard to realize [how much debt I’ll have when I graduate], but I have to remind myself that it’s worth it, and I just have to make sure I’ll pay my bills on time.” Instead of allowing ourselves to feel hopelessly drowned by bills, we should take transitions like these as opportunities to learn more about how to be financially strategic in paying back student loans. It’s not a doom-and-gloom situation – it’s a reminder to be money-savvy, more frugal and less of a spendthrift with our personal finances. And there are viable ways of doing so. Like Mark Kantrowitz, publisher of FinAid.org, stated in his report, “Solving the Student Loan Credit Crunch,” reduce debt ahead of time by living like a student while you’re in school instead of living like a student after you graduate. Also, make borrowing federal education loans a priority: they are less expensive, have better terms and more availability. And if

soMe helpful resources in learning More about financial aid: The full report by Mark Kantrowitz: www.finaid.org/ educators/2008-03-10studentloancreditcrisis.pdf FinAid.org: www.finaid.org U.S. Department of Education: www.ed.gov/finaid Student loan lender Web sites, including: www.wellsfargo.com, www.citibank.com, www.bankofamerica.com Your school’s financial aid Web site or financial aid counselor 11

T Simple

Cinnamon

Sugar

Biscuits What you’ll need:

You open your eyes and look at the ceiling. A grin stretches wide across your f a c e . The ceiling usually doesn’t get you this excited, but today is different. Today launches your winter break! No more waking up early, no more throwing on a hat and rushing to class, no more cafeteria meals. You are free to wake up and enjoy a leisurely breakfast – all your own. You are sick of carefully scrutinizing the cafeteria’s “pancakes” and are definitely fed up with the usual bowl of cereal. So, on a luxurious day of winter break, why not indulge in a quick, easy, and most importantly, delicious treat for breakfast? No apron required – just grab that cup of coffee and get cooking!

by allenah westlund

1 round 8-inch pan 1 package ready-to-bake refrigerated biscuits ¼ cup margarine Sprinkle of brown sugar Pinch of cinnamon

What to do: Heat oven to 400 degrees. Place margarine in round 8-inch or 9-inch cake pan and melt in oven. Cut each individual biscuit into fourths. Place in pan of melted margarine. Sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon to your liking (feel free to add a little extra!). Bake at 400 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes or until golden. Serves two hungry students.

Even without your mother, the queen of home-baked goods, on hand you can still make a hot and yummy breakfast all on your own – no adult supervision required! You’ll have all your friends wondering where your mom is hiding.

a project to add insight to the viewfinder. Picturing Everyday Beauty is the latest endeavor of Alive Arts Media, and raises the question, â&#x20AC;&#x153;What is beauty?â&#x20AC;? It aims to extend our perceptions of beauty beyond physical appearance and reinforce that beauty already exists in everyday places, emphasizing that personalities, hobbies, dreams and accomplishments are beautiful adornments not to be overlooked. This month, we hear about dreams from some of the wisest: the oldest and youngest among us.

Bernadene (Bennie), 94 Who inspires you? The people that created radios and the TV. How they were able to make that happen is amazing. What decade had the best fashion? Around the 80s. I like the tailored top with dress slacks.

Damian, 5 What is something that scares you? I get scared of dinosaurs. What is something that makes you mad? When me and my friends hit each other.

Alice, 92

Lorene, 102 On friendship: We’ve never had any fights, any disagreements. What decade had the best fashion? 1920s. Best advice to young women? Gee, I think they have all the advice they need!

On friendship: You know, old friends are really so valuable. Lorene I can always tell it all to. We can just get together and growl. Best advice to young women? Well, (this Lorene gave me when I was dating a lot of guys, and I couldn’t decide) Lorene told me: “Alice, you’re a long time married.” That was good advice.

Devin, 7 Why do you like your mom and dad? My dad plays soccer with me, and he takes me shopping for video games. My mom takes me swimming and to the park to play. Bert, 94 What did you want to be when you grew up? We never anticipated going to college and we all succeeded in not going. What excites you for future generations? That young people can go to college and have so many opportunities.

Do you like having siblings? Yes, because I get to play with them. Sometimes I wish I had a twin brother to play with.

who inspires you?

Marie, 73 What is a memorable moment in your life? The bill for my first daughterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s birth only cost $7 dollars, and that was for my meals. (Husband was in military)

Tony, 3 What do you like to do for fun? Play hide and see. I like to hide. Whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s your favorite food? Gum and cake. I got a birthday cake for my birthday. 16

Carl, 89 What is your biggest, most audacious dream? For your life or for the world? My dream has been realized. My father died at a young age and was never able to see his children grow up. I have always wanted to see my children grow up, and I have. I have wonderful children, grandchildren and one great-grandchild. What do you wish you knew before that you do know now? How to invest properly. What changes do you wish to see in the world? I have been a Republican all my life, but I am glad that we elected an African – American, Obama, for president. He has youth. I believe that he brings something new to our country that will help lead the world into a better future.

what is your biggest fear?

Helen, 95 What is your biggest fear? I don’t live in fear. What is the most unexpected compliment you’ve received? When my husband was in the service, I had to manage the grocery store by myself. Customers thought I did a great job running the business.

Shirley, 82 Who inspires you? You [the interviewer] inspire me because you have a smile. People should smile more often. 17

Doloris, 68 Coolest place ever traveled to? Barbados. It’s nice and quiet. It’s also very beautiful there with the sea water, and the skies are so blue. Who inspires you? My grandmother. She told us to get a good education. That’s the most important thing you can do for yourself. Proudest moment in life? My son was the first black student to graduate from Fridley High School. There were only two black students in a class of 108. I am so proud of him.

what is your proudest MoMent? Mason, 12 What’s your favorite thing to do? Play football. I love playing with my friends. I would rather play with my friends on a team than play on a winning team. 18

? t o g e v u o y l l a â&#x20AC;&#x2122; t a h t is

by ALANA RAINEy ILLUSTRATIONS by DANICA MyERS

All I knew before college was that you must graduate in four years, no questions asked. Or, like my younger sister, you do it in only three. Can you say impressive? I had motivation to learn all I could in my college years, but after graduation my only goal was to move away from home (and what was expected of me) permanently. 19

I thought I needed to get a job right out of college because “that’s how it’s done.” Pressure from my parents led me to believe I should immediately find the job I would do for a lifetime. “It’s not acceptable to start a profession and quit or switch jobs in less than two years,” I felt them saying to me. And then, suddenly, graduation was just a month away. My finals week felt like the end of the world as I knew it. After four years of hard work and studying, what if I just couldn’t finish? I found it helped to remember the awesome friends I had made and experiences I had… not to mention the pizza all-nighters. Who can ask for more than that during the worst weeks of her life? One night my best guy friend and I looked up quotes to motivate us to keep studying, and we found “Is that all you’ve got?” It made me realize that failing a test in college is not the scariest thing in the world and motivated me to really know my stuff for the tests. The week was chaotic and my last final actually made me throw up. And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. I walked to receive my diploma at graduation and suddenly my life was my own. My first job was as a counselor at a summer retreat center that my grandparents had helped found decades ago in Cannon Beach, Oregon. I took the job for the summer, not because it paid anything worthwhile, but because I wanted to help kids one-on-one and do something that mattered. But I also had a few selfish motives. I craved the beach, freedom and independence, and this opportunity seemed like all of that rolled into one. When I moved in and saw the ocean across the street, I thought, I’m home! But, similar to my college experience, my “endless” summer ended sooner than I thought. Now I had money left from working, but nothing to spend I HAvE SINCE DECIDED yOU it on. I had no bills, AREN’T A REAL wOMAN IF nothing to do and yOU CAN’T PUT UP yOUR OwN TENT, AND AT THIS POINT IN My LIFE, I CAN DO IT IN TwO MINUTES FLAT, EvEN IN THE POURING RAIN.

nowhere to be, not to mention no one to be with. I was single as can be and only wanted to answer to myself. To continue to revel in my freedom, I decided to drive down Freeway 101 from Cannon Beach to San Diego on a month-long road trip. People kept asking me why I didn’t just fly there, and my only answer was that getting there was the true adventure. On my trip I essentially lived out of the trunk of my car because I didn’t want to stay in hotels where I felt like I couldn’t come and go as I pleased. In one city I stopped and asked a local guy where I could camp and the guy just waved his hand and drawled, “Whereeeever the hell you want.” I love that kind of freedom. I kept a tent, firewood and a cooler in my car and my friends joked I could live for at least a month in the wilderness if I got lost. I have since decided you aren’t a real woman if you can’t put up your own tent, and at this point in my life, I can do it in two minutes flat, even in the pouring rain. October rolled around and I drove half-way across the country back home to live with my parents. I didn’t want to sign a lease because I didn’t know where I would be in the future, so I settled into my old bedroom and began looking for jobs all over again. I began to teach preschool at a local daycare center and it was miserable beyond words. When I got there each morning, I would think to myself, Good morning children, how are you going to ruin my day? I tried to keep a structure (as best as I could with over 15 kids, sometimes completely on my own) while trying to make cute lessons with valuable teaching points. On “Penguin Day,” a child used the floor as a bathroom and another ripped all the books apart during nap time. So much for Penguin Day. Next job: still working with kids, new approach. As a fitness coordinator at an athletic club, it was the first time I saw behind the scenes of fitness programs and trainers. People have different outlets to “let loose” and I found staying active really helped me deal with life when things wHENEvER My CLIENTS START TO GIvE UP ON THEIR GOALS I CHALLENGE THEM wITH “IS THAT ALL yOU’vE GOT?” AND INSIST ON 10 MORE REPS.

College 48 months

Fitness Coordinator

Road Trip

9 months

1 month

Camp Counselor 3 months

Preschool Teacher 4 months

weren’t always perfect or easy. Growing up, I played sports and worked out, but my passion grew when I had an aerobics instructor who was awesome at motivating us (namely by blaring Elton John music,) and so I would try to motivate my friends. They would drag their feet to the gym with me so I had to start making it interesting to make them work out with me! At the athletic center I got to design kid’s workouts, which I loved doing. But the enjoyment of my new job couldn’t push away the fact that the temperature consistently felt like 20 below zero, and by January I knew I needed to live in Oregon again. I returned to the conference center for that summer and met new people, had nightly bonfires, surfed and slept maybe three hours a night. One week the entire camp got food poisoning and all summer my new boss was so intense that we constantly butted heads. I struggled through the humdrum of living in a small tourist town. Not quite the experience I had the last time, and every day I thought, How will I do this? When the summer ended, I moved to Portland, and landed in a house with hippies who smoked all day and threw out any meat I brought into the house. They had a drum set that was never played before 4 a.m., built a bonfire pit in our yard, and the same Bob Marley song was drummed out about 100 times per day. To this day I have no idea what their jobs were. My bedroom had two sleeping bags laid out with a fitted sheet over the top, a surfboard in the corner and a desk with magazines – that was it. Everything I owned fit into my car in case I wanted to make a run for it and live the beach life. I shopped at Goodwill because I learned I can find better things there than buying new stuff at the mall. At this point, I knew I needed money so I started being a nanny for families around the city, finding more kids who thought torturing complete strangers was great pass time. Growing up, my own mom always had crafts I HAvE LEARNED IT’S and fun things to IMPORTANT TO SURROUND do instead of watchyOURSELF wITH STRONG ing TV, so I’d do PEOPLE, AND FIND THE PLACE the same. I got kids wHERE THERE IS NOwHERE ELSE yOU’D RATHER bE.

Nanny 18 months

outside and active every day and their moms would be shocked when they got home and their kids were somewhat behaving – and not watching TV. I was a nanny for what felt like forever, but I still had my love of working out and being active. Plus, it’s one of the only jobs that has a flexible schedule. I started looking into certifications for fitness training and how I could get educated on my own. Then I interviewed at fitness clubs just to get information and to find out which ones were the best. My life consisted of difficult studying and even harder tests, but I finished my three certifications in only nine months by working my butt off. Now, I am a licensed fitness trainer and working at a popular gym. I work out on my own, then have a long day at work with the stress of making commissions, but it’s so great to see people’s lives and health changed. I have flexibility and freedom, but in a new way. It is up to me how people will achieve their goals, whether that means an 80-pound weight loss, or training for a marathon. Whenever my clients start to give up on their goals, I challenge them with, “Is that all you’ve got?” and insist on 10 more reps. I have finally settled in a small city in Oregon, where you can walk to everything you need and people know your name. By this age, most of my friends are married with great jobs and children on the way. I am so happy when I see them doing so much in life and starting their families, it’s just not for me yet. I have learned it’s important to surround yourself with strong people and find the place where there is nowhere else you’d rather be. I finished college as a political science major, and now I work in a fitness club – who knew? Now I understand that it is where you belong, not where you’re expected to be that matters in the paths you take. And if you always look at your life and ask “Is that all you’ve got?” The answer might surprise you.

now i understand that it is where you belong, not where you’re eXpected to be that Matters in the paths you take.

Fitness Certification 9 months

Camp Counselor

Fitness Trainer FOREVER?????

3 months

I by CAITLIN wINEy ILLUSTRATIONS by KARISSA wAGNER

BANG! And the crowd of runners takes off! This was not an unfamiliar situation for me. I have been running competitive track and field for over nine years, and it’s always been a very large part of my life. From horrible accidents on the track, to throwing up from heat exhaustion, to running hours each morning as practice, to putting up with “wow you have really, really, abnormally long legs,” I have worked hard to become the runner I am today.

to bring this little girl’s dream true.

but running in this particular race was Much different than those in the past.

My freshman year of college, I had no intention of joining a sorority. I was at ASU strictly for track and field, so I didn’t think I would need to do anything else. On the other hand, my roommate was a “legacy” (she was related to a sorority member) of a sorority on campus, so she tried to convince me to go through recruitment (also known as “rush”) with her. I denied the offer, convincing myself that I wouldn’t fit into the sorority scene. I just didn’t see myself as the sorority type. Although I was very active in my high school (I played multiple sports, was a member of student council and National Honor Society, you name it), I wasn’t in to partying, and I didn’t drink. Plus I had no desire to go through the hazing it takes to become a member. I figured I’d had enough of that at home with my younger brother, so instead I watched from the sidelines while my roommate went through the week-long process of recruitment. She got in to the sorority of her choice, and for the rest of the year, I watched while she had the time of her life. Even though she was having a great time, I still didn’t think I would fit in with that crowd.

By this time, I have run many 5k’s in my life, yet I always ran them with the intent to win the race and improve my time. But running in this particular race was much different than those in the past. Today this race was a 5k to raise money for a little girl, Stacy, to go to Watl Disney World. Stacy has terminal cancer and is part of the Make-a-Wish Foundation, which is the philanthropy project of a neighboring sorority. I was nominated from my sorority to run in this event, and though I was able and ready to run, the story of Stacy’s difficult and inspiring life tugged at my heart. At the starting line, my heart seemed heavy, but I took off with an unusual lightness in my feet. During the race I ran my best and with full determination to get to the finish line and see the smile on Stacy’s face. I didn’t win the race, but Chi Omega raised thousands of dollars in the effort 22

When I used to think of sorority life, using my talent for running was the last thing I would think of. Whether through newspaper articles or movies, I think the media has glamorized the idea of Greek Life. And honestly, I believed all the movies, shows and stories about it until I came to college. I am now a junior at Arkansas State University and have been a member of Alpha Gamma Delta women’s fraternity for the past two years.

When fall of sophomore year began, I felt like the only people I hung out with were kids from the track team. My Friday and Saturday nights were usually pretty boring, and even though I was invited to fraternity parties, I didn’t have anyone to go with, so I would usually skip out. My two best friends from freshman year decided to transfer to different schools, which left me with even fewer people to hang out with. It was at this point I decided I was going to rush. I figured even if I decided not to join a sorority, I could still make friends through the recruitment process. My freshMan year of college, i had no intention of joining a sorority I was very oblivious to what it takes to be in a sorority, and I quickly learned that these girls were musicians, athletes and scholars – they all were so talented in completely different ways. When going through the recruitment process, the sorority members try to find out as much as possible about the girl rushing. They determine whether or not she would make a good fit in the sorority. I realized it is very hard to get to know a girl in the short time period given, so first impressions are key. It is important to keep a smile on your face and to speak up to show that you are interested. The sorority girls are interested in knowing what activities you are involved in, or are interested in becoming involved in. While going through recruitment, you could see the obvious differences between sororities. Each night there was a different theme to help show what it is like to be a part of each sorority, and each night you would visit fewer houses, so the meetings went from informal “meet and greet” to very personal talks about sisterhood. Within the week I had made my choice. I chose Alpha Gamma Delta, and they gave me a bid! Yet, there was so much more I learned after being inducted. When getting initiated into the sorority, we receive our “big sis.” A big sis is an older sister that has already gone through recruitment, and we choose to get paired up together. Each member makes a list of her top five favorite new girls, and the new members make a list of their top five favorite members. The recruitment chair then matches the girls up according to those lists in addition to common interests. My big

sis is very important to me, because at home I only have my younger brother, so I never got to experience what it was like to have a sister. Having my big sis is my vision of what it’s like to have a real big sister. Joining a sorority can be stressful, from the six-hour weekly minimum of study hall hours, to studying for weekly tests on anything from our founders to our purpose to our standards. All the required activities are very fun but also very time consuming, so I really leaned on my big sis a lot during this time. She became someone I could truly count on. From the late night phone calls to the fun messages left on my car windshield, she was always there supporting me throughout the new member period and showed me a glimpse of what true sisterhood is all about. During my past two years at Alpha Gamma I’ve been in comedy shows, talent contests, beauty pageants, Twister tournaments, golf tournaments, 5k’s, walk-a-thons, step shows, member auctions and week-long competitions between on-campus Greeks. Thousands of dollars have been raised for worthy causes, and even better yet, I am stretching myself to try things I wouldn’t normally do and make friends with people I probably would never have met. I couldn’t have been more wrong about Greek Life. The media and people I asked had always given me the impression that who I am, as a runner and conservative person, wouldn’t fit into the Greek world. I guess it just took joining one to see that stereotypes about sororities (and about me) can be wrong. Now I know that different strengths, like doing a 5k in 25 minutes, are exactly what it takes to make a sisterhood strong.

the Media and people i asked had always given Me the iMpression that who i aM, as a runner and conservative person, wouldn’t fit into the greek world.

A dreamer’s

Confession by AMy LARSEN PHOTOGRAPHy by LAUREN GALLAGHER

Here is a confession: I am becoming suspicious of dreams. I’m sure you know people who don’t go for the “follow your dreams” mantra, arguing instead for practicality, or self-sacrifice or whatever. Usually, I want to argue for dreams. Lately, though, it feels selfish, or at least naïve, in a world full of harsh conditions and heartache, to go after something just because I love it. I’m grumpy and irritated at God as I pray and at the sun as it shines; this is a very unpleasant state, and I have been impatient to “get over it.” Still, I think there is some value to my malaise. it takes great hope and huMility to follow one’s dreaMs, precisely because no dreaM pursued will guarantee a person’s happiness or goodness or perfection. Here I am, a member of the small percentage of humanity with innumerable choices and resources, with access to almost the whole world and to so much information; theoretically, I can follow my dreams. Instead, I follow the post-college slump, missing the familiarity of following the instructions of others. While some of my friends are truly ecstatic about their new freedom, I, having not started work yet, have been trying to occupy my brain enough to keep from crying every day. With all the roads open to me to pursue knowledge, pleasure or a myriad of worthy-but-complicated causes, the biggest obstacles to my wishes being fulfilled are my own fear, confusion and over-stimulation. And I’m not alone in my generation. Most of us can, and probably will, change careers several times in our lives. We are not known, as a demographic, for our decisive efficiency or reported peace of mind. Change and flexibility are not bad things, but constant second-guessing and re-evaluation can drive a person crazy. Clearly, the opportunity to follow one’s dreams is not as simple and lovely a gift as some of us hoped.

The fortune to be able to pursue dreams is really confusing in the context of the world. Nobel prize-winning poet Wislawa Szymborska said in her Nobel lecture that poets are part of a select group of “Fortune’s darlings.” Her wise words did not comfort me, an aspiring poet, because Fortune is unfair, and I’m reluctant to be associated with it. It’s too late of course; even if I don’t pursue and succeed in any dream of mine, I will never be free of Fortune’s favors. With loving family and friends, good memories, abundant food and cozy shelter, I already have it good. Unfortunately, I have trouble maintaining the gratitude necessary to enjoy it. Good fortune is wasted on the fortunate. Lately, the privilege of choosing what I will do seems more like a trap, a task at which I cannot succeed, a question to which there is no right answer. While I realize that excessive guilt over my own good circumstances is unhealthy and benefits no one, and while I believe that my sour mood will pick up again as I adjust to my new postgraduate schedule and role, part of me wants to revel in misery. Even if I do something very generous, or choose a career of direct and self-sacrificing service, what difference will it make? There are so many people, fortunate and unfortunate alike, suffering in the world, and any act of relief I can offer will be as temporal as my life. Honestly, I am probably suspicious of dreams because I can see that they are not the answer to happiness and peace in the universe, an answer that I still expect to ﬁnd. Permeating my thoughts is the frustrated dream of understanding the world, of getting nothing better than what I deserve, of being able to know myself and help others. It takes great hope and humility to follow one’s dreams, precisely because no dream pursued will guarantee a person’s happiness or goodness or perfection. So, perhaps I need to redirect my suspicion of dreams toward my own desire to know and do what’s right and perfect all the time. Almost definitely, when I want a single, simple answer to satisfy all my questions about life, I am asking for more than even Fortune’s darlings get to have. 25

THE TRUTH IS by PINALbEN “PINKy” PATEL ILLUSTRATION by Abby ZIMMER

It was a Saturday night, but I was on the sofa in the living room of my house, waiting for my laptop to turn on and process. I sat there, listening to the dial tones of the Internet, until finally it connected, and my AOL Instant Messenger popped up. Whenever I connect to the Internet, my chat messengers automatically get switched on; however, I thought no one would be in the chat rooms at that moment. “Yes, I love to chat online,” I tell people who are skeptical of chat rooms. I love it because it gives me practice in typing and friendships. I have a progressive neuromuscular disease called Friedreich’s Ataxia, so I am not able to go out often. But, that day I was just going online to check my e-mail. I moved my mouse cursor to close Instant Messenger just as a message came up on my screen. It was from my friend Rimpal. Reading the formal greetings from her, I noticed she was upset, and after asking about it, I found out that her boyfriend wanted to break up with her. Having been single

all my life, the words in that sentence drew me into the conversation. I forgot all about checking my e-mail. Rimpal is from the same caste as I am in India, so it is easy for me to understand her. Many girls in our culture typically do not have boyfriends because of arranged marriages. However, Rimpal’s family is more modern and allowed her to have a boyfriend. She had said before that they were thinking about marriage, and I was happy for her, but today I was hearing a different story. She explained that her boyfriend didn’t want to stay with her anymore because he was afraid she would get hurt when it was time for them to get married. He thought his parents would not accept Rimpal as a daughter-in-law when he told them about her. I easily read between the lines, because in addition to our cultural similarities,

is wrong with me, and they understand everything I go through. We can discuss all topics, even though I have a voice like a twelve-year-old, and they don’t

Rimpal also has a physical disability like I have. Although her disability is not as severe as mine, she still gets treated as a burden in our society for needing to use a wheelchair. Her boyfriend’s parents were discriminatory against the disabled like most elders are in our culture. Hence, they wouldn’t allow their son to marry Rimpal. When Rimpal had told me about her boyfriend, I was jealous. I always thought we were the same in our culture, so why was I single? Every time I went to cultural parties, I would greet many single guys, but none of them wanted to say anything more than “hi” and “how are you?” to me. I knew I was pretty enough and had the personality to attract any guy, but I always felt that my disability was too complicated for most people (especially males) to understand. However, Rimpal had a disability too, and her boyfriend was not disabled. She did tell me she met him online before she met him face-to-face, but I still envied her. It was simple. I just wanted to be accepted and loved by people other than my girlfriends, my other disabled friends and my relatives.

bathing, brushing my teeth or dressing. I am dependent on a wheelchair and on people. Apparently, becoming anyone’s wife or girlfriend is out of the question for me. But Rimpal’s disability is different than mine. She has Spinal Bifida, which is not progressive or neuromuscular. Her situation is exactly the opposite, with the exception of depending on a wheelchair. She is independent otherwise and without a slurred voice. With a few adaptations, she can even drive a van. I was angry at her boyfriend, because it was unfair to Rimpal that he wanted to break up with her just because she could not stand independently. I advised her it would be easier to break up with him and then forget him. I believed she deserved someone better, someone who would not only accept her, but fight for her as well. After shutting down my laptop, I sat on the sofa, pondering. The conversation gave me clarity. When I complain about being lonely to my friends, they try to comfort me by saying “Be patient. You will find someone who will accept you.” However, I recognize now that not every guy considers me abnormal. I have found guys who understand that I am physically different due to the complexity of my disability.

As we kept exchanging the sad blue and black text, I realized that I actually am accepted by some guys. There are guys in my life who talk to me as if nothing is wrong with me, and they un- Rimpal took my advice and moved on. Now, a derstand everything I go through. We can discuss few years later, she has another guy in her life all topics, even though I have a voice like a twelve- who accepts her. All wheelchair users have differyear-old, and they ent physical abiliapparently, becoMing anyone’s wife or don’t have any disties. People need girlfriend is out of the Question for Me. abilities. Though it to understand that would be easy for being in a wheelthem to not comprehend any of my problems chair and being in a quadriplegic stage (like me) and just be polite with me, they instead befriend- are two very different lifestyles. It certainly does ed me. not mean either person is mentally or cognitively disabled; it is just what it is. I became aware of the fact that I am not in a relationship with any of those guys because I physi- At that moment, I moved on too and stopped cally cannot be with them. Being in a relationship obsessing over my singleness. I am not the only is more than appearance and talking online, and single person in the world! I realized I should be it is unfair to them if I ask for more. Looking at proud of my own accomplishments and not comme, people can undoubtedly assume the only pare myself to others. I have a lot of accomplishproblem I have is just being in a wheelchair. But ments and not having a boyfriend didn’t keep me that is far from true. I need a fair amount of assis- from realizing any of them. Romance is a plus, but tance in everything I do, whether it’s transferring, not a necessity for living.

... I have a lot of accomplishments and not having a boyfriend didn’t keep me from realizing any of them. ...

polite with me, they instead befriended me. ...At that moment, I moved on too and stopped obsessing over my singleness. i am not the only single person.

have any disabilities. Though it would be easy for them to not comprehend any of my problems and just be

Z I am compelled by notions of psychological space and the prospect of generating both through oil paint on a two-dimensional surface. My paintings juxtapose opposing forces of disorder and structure, speculating the dualities of nature/ culture, feminine/masculine, and conscious/unconscious, and thresholds of balance. These paintings are born out of total disorder by sweeping paint, seeking form out of my bodyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s movement within the paint on the canvas. I find form through painting in a very meditative way. The paintings at once become personal landscapes and mythologies. They resemble a physical, yet dreamlike reality in their mural size. The architectural elements that I weave through the spaces harness movement and authorize the viewer to enter the marks on the canvas as well as positioning them at a specific perspective upon entrance.

Limine MegDirks

D , t a F n o N A Ve nt i,

n o o m y e n d o o H o w Ho lly by jaclyn hallstrom digital design by megan foss

“If you could do anything, what do you want to be when you grow up?” my aunt asked. I was in seventh grade, and had of course heard this question dozens of times before. My sister said, “Doctor.” My cousin said, “Physician’s assistant.” What slipped out of my mouth was so unexpected, so unthought-of, so different from those answers. Yet it was something that stirred up a passion inside of me that I never knew before. “I want to work behind the scenes in Hollywood. I don’t want to be an Academy-award winning actress, I want to be a Hollywood film producer.” Fast-forward 10 years, and the dreams of my sister and cousin have both come true. A lot has changed for me as well. My dream always remained the same – and, thanks to hard work and a bit of good timing, it’s well on its way to becoming true as well. Last month I moved to West Hollywood from my dear home state of Minnesota. It was incredibly hard to move away from my close family and friends to a place that was not as familiar. But on the flip side, out of everything in my life, I have never been more convinced and confident that I’m supposed to be in Hollywood. However, that does not mean that I still don’t have doubts in L.A.; I do. Right after I watched my mom drive away from my new apartment, I went back inside to my roommate Kelly. I looked at her with tears streaming down my face and said, “What are we doing here?” I continue to ask that very question. Every day is a struggle and not all fun and games like I expected. All I know is that I need to get up every morning, keep looking for jobs and never give up. I’ve been taught in life to not escape, but to walk right through. And that’s what I intend on doing.

Sept. 7 – Settlin g in

started has been! First, I it y da sy bu a t Wha r was arrly because my ca ea up ng tti ge by nesota). d it out from Min pe ip sh d ha (I g rivin e semimeet up with th to rd ha so as It w because car on his truck y m d ha ho w er driv not fun, n. L.A. traffic is lo th ia Tr A. L. e of th I’m acore honking than m ay w is e er th and le to get ht take me a whi ig m It ! to ed om cust e place I finally got to th n he W is. th to used dn’t find ing about, I coul lk ta as w er iv dr the s or on in between street g in ok lo as w I . him hold, his . Well, lo and be ad ro e th of e sid the e middle ht smack dab in th rig as w i m se ge hu taking my et! He ended up re st A. L. sy bu a of the street. i in the middle of m se e th of f of r ca nce. Quite the experie

Sept. 16

ve it here. l. I honestly do lo Life is going wel ith friends eat to connect w It has been so gr last year. School I went to from the L.A. Film n of going e have a traditio Every Sunday w ting up for er and then mee to church togeth vorite! e probably my fa lunch. Sundays ar I job search new except that There is nothing tually have ery day. I might ac online almost ev ld start tocial job that wou a short commer . I’m actugo until Sept. 27 morrow. It would e. For some the call as I writ ally waiting for I’ve prayed nervous all day. reason, I’ve been t, for some read the Bible, bu a lot about it and usual. I think e nervous than reason, I’m mor afraid of dent because I’m I’m just less confi the person or even failing to failing at this job one. I ask for ing to on the ph that I will be talk ore confithis... that I’m m lots of prayers on g so much on stead of focusin dent in Christ in actically eatMy nerves are pr my weaknesses. ach hurt. making my stom ing me up, and its

next exit

ryday o look eve t e u in t n o now , I still c bs. but for jo n io t c u d for pro

s k c u b r a t s is just fine

Sept. 20 – Nike comm ercia l

a Nike commercial yesterday. I was a talI have so much to tell you! Well, I got a temporary job working on so they can get fitted/dressed for the role ent P.A., which is someone who ushers in the talent to wardrobe they signed a sheet called “Exhibit G” that they are playing. I had to keep track of them by making sure I also worked closely with the costume (this is for actors; it says when the actors start and end a work day). , and I had to import the pictures right designer. He took pictures of every actor in each wardrobe change could be approved for the commercial. away on my computer and get them printed right away so the outfits day lasts five hours. Yesterday, it went I talked to the costume designer, and he said a long wardrobe fitting on schedule. We worked with over 50 on for 10 hours! We all worked well as a team to make sure we were and left at 11:15 p.m. When I left, I still people and took a ton of pictures (over 200). I got there at 8:30 a.m. working, and the commercial coordinator wasn’t done with work! But I felt bad because I was the last one to make her stay so I left and finished my was really great and stayed there until I had to leave. I didn’t want with my friends on a Friday night like I was work at home. I finished at 12:20 a.m.! So much for hanging out planning on doing. a big deal. I really gelled with people who Call me naïve but I didn’t think working on this commercial was been in L.A. for two weeks and I was alworked on the commercial, and, once they learned that I had only just excited to be working! And, if it wasn’t ready working on a Nike commercial, they were impressed. I was commercial. for my friend Matt, there would be no way I’d be working on this that is, if I recognize him. Gosh, I wish I were Also, I hear Lebron James will be on set next week! Excited to see him... sure to sneak a photo and post it. more of a sports fan. Maybe I should study his pictures. If I can, I’ll make commercial and come back). It was in Santa I also had an interview yesterday (I had to leave the work on the really great. We definitely clicked. The job Monica for a receptionist position. The girl who interviewed me was ny. But I’d get great experience and I’d be is not in a stressful atmosphere since it’s a smaller production compa won’t find out if I get the job until next week working personally with producers, which means I’ll learn a lot. I but I’m really confident about it. the nontraditional, unstable freelance work Nonetheless, I’m still at a crossroads right now. I could either do nal, stable work (steady pay, meet people, (work on sets, meet lots of people, learn a lot), or do the traditio ns. And, which one I choose to take (if I get learn). In this industry, these are two completely different positio want to be a producer (lots of desk work, preoffered a position), could lead me to different career options. If I on set and eventually be a production coordiplanning, calling), then I should be the receptionist. If I want to be should go the freelance route... nator (fast-paced, time off, good pay, lots of connections), then I

Sept. 26 Wow, it’s been quite the week! Finally, I’m done working and get some time to just relax. I worked last Friday, then Sunday through Thursday. Each day was 16-17 hours! I was so exhausted every single day. My body felt like it was starting to shut down. I talked to my mom about this. I said, “No one really complains about being tired. It is just a way of life for these people. They just accept that this is just how it is for a few days.” It’s a crazy lifestyle. At points, I felt like giving up but my mom encouraged me to keep going, and I did. Yesterday, even though it was the last day, I was starting to get used to the no sleep. The long hours I have no problem with. In fact, I loved being at work, for the most part. But the lack of sleep gets in the way. And when lack of sleep gets in the way, I’m not as effective of a worker as I should be. Last night, the commercial supervisor came over to talk to me (I was a talent P.A.) and the other talent P.A. She said that she was planning on paying us a couple more days of work since the talent department always was the first to come and the last to leave. The other talent P.A. had talked to her earlier that day to ask for more money. She completely deserved it; she was a great worker and taught me so much. But when the commercial supervisor came over and said that I would get a bonus too, I was shocked. It was all thanks to the talent P.A. for asking. It taught me that it literally pays to ask for a raise. Also last night when we had just wrapped and people were getting ready to leave, I went to the production “moho” (mobile home where the production office is on set). The costume designer was there talking to the commercial supervisor and commercial coordinator. Can I just say that I love the costume designer? Her name is April. She is probably in her 40s and she’s so great. She’s super sweet yet firm when she needs to be. Well, April told me that she loved working with me. I said that I would absolutely love to work with her again. She said, “Really? That’d be great. I would love to have you work with me.” I had to leave right away to do something, but I overheard her say to the commercial supervisor and coordinator, “She’s kind, she doesn’t get flustered under pressure, she gets stuff done...” That was really encouraging to hear. So I’m excited because in the future I could be working with wardrobe, which I absolutely love!

Oct. 4 – The hone ymoo n stage is over

On my one month anniversary of living in L.A., I hit a wall. It has been no more fun and games. Instead, it’s been a lot of reflecting and evaluating. The funny thing is that I’m not quite sure what is going on. All I know is that something has changed, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I was hoping that living in L.A. last year would automatically elimina te this doubtful thinking that I’ve been having. I was wrong. I remember last year journaling about the freedo m of moving to a new place and being able to completely be myself because no one had expectations of me. Well, I think it was different being in an environment where I went to school with other Christians. Yes, we’re all different but we have the same beliefs. This year I don’t have the luxury of being in a Christian environment like LAFSC, the school I went to. Instead, I’m in a melting pot of different beliefs. The dangerous thing is that I’m such a people pleaser, so sometimes I don’t stand up for what I believe in order to make the other person more comfortable. And because people don’t have clear expectations of me (they don’t know know me), it’s a very scary thing. If I’m not standing up for God who is the center of my being, then people around me are going to start defining who I am. I think this is why I’ve been very unsettled. Who I am is becoming drowned out.

Oct. 16 – Starbucks Hello all! I’m happy to say that I have a job. I’m working at Starbu cks to help me pay the bills, meet new people and get out of the house. Yes, it may not be the glamorous production job that I originally expected, but it’s God’s purpose for me right now. I still continue to look everyday for production jobs. But for now, Starbucks is just fine.

u by vIRGINIA MUIRHEAD PHOTOGRAPHy by jEN DOTSON

A Stiff Complaint

Where is the preparation for our death? Weddings are planned for months and set. My funeral has but days! While frosty cakes are debated and roses bound for bridal hand, I’m shipped to morgue and back again in time for beautician’s refrain. While a glamorous Bride murmurs, “oyster-white” why can’t I say “Blue nails and purple lippy!” This sterile light is too plain. As resin scent enfolds me, don’t rate low my timber box. My cradle. Not too tight, nor too roomy – Polished, please, with a gilding on the edge? You may not care, but I say don’t!... rush. I’d rather decay while you found the poem to gush my eulogy. Think me over; so I enjoy the show as much as you. Flush me in spotlight. I’ll take the stage So take your rage, and take your time. After all, Daddy dear, you’re walking me slow down the aisle again, so let it be as memorable as the first.

As reward for all your effort through the worst, pop the cork, top the glasses full, and cheers! Here’s to seconds of dessert.

M My front door unexpectedly swung open, and Emily scrambled into the house. Taken aback, I sat my trembling friend down and gave her a glass of water. “Natalie, we were captured – Kelly, Sonja and I – but I managed to escape,” Emily gasped between her heavy breaths. “Who kidnapped you, Emily? What are you talking about?” I asked, fear starting to well in my gut. “The King and Queen of the Mall of America.” I couldn’t believe it. The most powerful people in the universe – or at least in American popular culture, which is the same as saying the most powerful in the universe – had taken my friends hostage. “We’ve got to shaky voice. the mercy of Emily a n d I ahead would our backpacks

go after them,” I declared in a How could I leave my friends to the retail royalty? knew the strenuous journey drain us, so we loaded with enough

by NATALIE NEAL ILLUSTRATIONS by KARISSA wAGNER AND DANICA MyERS

Gobstoppers and kiwis to last us a week. We trekked across the fluffy mountains of clouds to reach the most direct transportation to the Earth’s surface, the Great Glass Elevator. Willy Wonka’s transparent apparatus gleamed with powerful buttons that could transport us anywhere we wanted to go. I pushed the button labeled “Mall of America” and the elevator immediately shot towards the Earth. My initial fear dissipated as I stood in awe, watching small dots grow slowly into massive skyscrapers. A nearby parking ramp was filled completely with glossy red cars (apparently, I dream in color.) I stirred in my sleep after this moment of selfawareness but soon my mind became enveloped once again in the confines of the Great Glass Elevator. Our transportation came to a halt, a small “ding” reverberated off the walls and the doors opened. While I had been pondering about the vibrancy of the red cars, somehow I had neglected to see that we were not at all near the Mall of America Castle, but

eMily and i knew the strenuous journey ahead would drain us, so we loaded our backpacks with enough gobstoppers and kiwis to last us a week. 39

instead in the middle of the countryside. Emily and I got out of the elevator to survey the land. Luckily, there was a hayride nearby so we hopped on, knowing it would take us to the bus station. We found a co-op bus headed for the Mall of America Castle, and to my surprise, my father joined us. We chatted with him a bit, but didn’t reveal our real reason for traveling to Mall of America Castle. He had been commissioned by the Lego Chief Engineer to improve the Lego Railway System and since my father was a loyalist, I figured the less he knew about my grave mission, the better.

My father got up froM his seat, confidently walked over to carrot top and punched hiM sQuare in the jaw.

Our conversation with my father was interrupted by Carrot Top, who made an announcement to the whole bus. “Excuse me folks, but I have a huge favor to ask. As you know, I have been a part of the 1-800-Collect commercials for some time now, and I need your advice and ideas for the next commercial. This matters deeply to me, and it represents the culmination of my life’s work.” Everyone on the bus avoided eye contact with him as he went from seat to seat pleading for help. The bus finally arrived at the Mall of America Castle, but before anyone could exit, Carrot Top threw himself across the door. “No one leaves without giving me an idea for the next 1-800-Collect Commercial. No one!” he bellowed as his flaming hair shook angrily. As everyone muttered nervously to one another, my father got up from his seat, confidently walked over to Carrot Top and punched him square in the jaw. Everyone cheered including Emily and I as we exited the bus, leaving Carrot Top crying in the front seat, clutching a ridiculously large 1-800-Collect phone. Briskly, Emily and I approached the castle, discussing the best way to sneak in without the security cameras alerting the King and Queen to our presence. Our discussion was cut short by two girls about our age. I recognized them immediately as Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. A gaggle of star-struck girls with dark silver boas lacing their necks trailed the Olsen twins. “Hi, so like I realize that what you two need most right now are our famous steel wool blankets,” said one of the twins. Now about to take a closer look, I realized the twins’ groupies were not wearing boas but steel wool blankets around their necks. “Uh, no thanks,” Emily said rather awkwardly. She grabbed my hand, pulling me out of my perplexed state and back on track to finding and rescuing our friends. We decided that, to slip through the security cameras undetected, Emily would put on a shark costume, and I would dress up like Snoopy. We found the costumes near the entrance of the mall and jumped into them, still on the move. We skidded to a stop at the nearest kiosk map (we were in the Mall of America) and found the ominous word “dungeon” written at the bottom accompanied by the location “B324.” We had to avoid running over little kids who were drawn to our cuddly char-

now about to take a closer look, i realiZed the olsen twins’ groupies were not wearing boas but steel wool blankets around their necks. 40

acter costumes. We told them to stand back because the shark and Snoopy were racing. Panting and sweating profusely in our mascot suits, we arrived at the dungeon doors. After scanning the names engraved on the doors, we found Sonja and Kelly’s dungeon cells. We tried to hug them through the doors, excited to have found them at last. Our elation was short lived when we realized we had no way to free them. “Find Bob, the janitor. He is a really nice old man who is from the Cloud City like us,” whispered Kelly through the cell bars. Emily and I put our animal heads back on and searched for Bob the janitor. It didn’t take us long since he was cleaning the floor directly above us. Initially, he was startled by the two furry figures approaching him at full sprint, but we quickly explained to him our predicament.

“Well-ah, what you girls need is a key. The King and Queen don’t trust me with a dungeon key, but I’m pretty sure they are available in the vending machines just down the hall,” Bob said. We thanked him gratefully and ran to the vending machines. We put our quarters in and pressed G8 for Kelly’s dungeon key. It fell, clanking loudly. After sticking in another dollar’s worth of quarters, we pressed C3 to get Sonja’s key. It started to unwind itself from the vending machine coils, but it got stuck. Emily and I looked at each other, practically defeated. Then, with renewed exuberance, Emily grabbed the vending machine and threw it to the ground. Of course, the moment that the glass broke, alarms sounded across the castle. Panicked, we grabbed the keys and sprinted back to the dungeon. We unlocked Sonja and Kelly’s cell doors, shed our bulky disguises and jumped out a window, sliding down the connected orange tube slide. The janitor was there at the bottom waiting for us, and all five of us stealthily maneuvered around cars in the parking lot to escape the public safety officer of the castle. Once out of harms way, we celebrated at the nearest Chuck E Cheese – pepperoni pizza all around, Bob the janitor included! Needless to say, I woke up exhausted the next morning.

A View from the Crossroads by david henke | painting by abby zimmer

It’s tough sometimes, when I’m sitting at my desk, to look back and reminisce about all the dreams and plans I carried with me through the end of my senior year at college. Don’t get me wrong; as a reporter for a small-town newspaper, I’m more than happy with my current circumstances. My job is interesting, and I’d like to think that, at least for now, I’m kicking butt at life.

out my life as a happy-go-lucky scuba-diving guide – someone who led groups of tacky tourists to all the scenic reefs and shipwrecks while maintaining an as-I-please lifestyle. Failing that, I thought I could travel to some obscure destination in Nepal or Tibet and spend some time volunteering for a non-government organization (NGO) and visiting the Buddhist temples nestled in the mountains and valleys of the Himalayas. Or maybe I could hitchhike around the continental United States, Jack Kerouac style, and hang out with the beatniks and eccentrics that I come across along the way.

Still, I’m a firm believer in the idea that no one is defined by a single vision. Instead, I like to think that we are a I think you get the picture. composite of a multitude of dreams and ideas. So when graduation approached, I was faced with a dilemma. Since Simply put, I was scared to settle down, to choose one opI was little, I was told that I could be anything I wanted, tion above the rest. What I didn’t realize until later, however, was that graduation isn’t whether it was a veterinarian, necessarily the end-all, be-all an astronaut, a police officer i’d like to think that, at least for of life. At the time, I thought I or some combination thereof. now, i’M kicking butt at life. would somehow have to reconWhile those words of encourcile and coalesce all those little, agement were fine and dandy, how I was to go about actualizing my dreams – and more clamoring desires in the back of my head into a single coimportantly, which dreams I chose to actualize – was left herent dream. I thought I would have to compromise. up to me. A lot rests on which majors and areas of emphasis we Suddenly, like little siblings who are crammed into a small pick in school, but the truth is, just as much formulation room for too long, all the dreams and ideas that I kept in goes on after we walk down to the podium and accept the back of my head started squabbling amongst them- that degree as in the four years preceding it. We are not bound to one thing, no matter what our diploma says, no selves and competing for my attention. matter which job or graduate school we pick in the end. I knew, deep down, that I wanted to do journalism when I got out of school, but as the proverbial small room What we choose to do in school and what we decide to do in which all the ill-mannered little children were kept, I post-graduation are important, but they are by no means couldn’t help but entertain certain flights of fancy and limiting. We can branch out. We don’t need to worry about daydreams, even as I filled out applications and sent out settling for just one or two things. There is more than enough time to get that grad-school degree, have that letters of inquiry to newspapers and magazines. successful career and maybe, if we’re really lucky, open For a time, I thought it would be great to open up a that scuba diving shop we’ve always dreamed about. scuba diving shop on some isolated Pacific Island and live

b by LISA TEICHER ILLUSTRATION by MEGAN FOSS

“Ok God… I could use some help here! That’s right, God, I’m asking for help. Do you remember me? It’s me, Lisa. The girl who use to attend church every Sunday, went on four mission trips, and was the only virgin out of all of her friends… CAN YOU HEAR ME UP THERE?” This was my first interaction with God in almost six years. Up until my junior year of high school, God and I had been pretty big pals. During this time I talked to him on a daily basis, told my friends about him, visited his house (the church) and generally thought of him and if my actions would make him proud. This all changed in May of 2001. My mom had been diagnosed with cancer back in 1996 when I was 12 years old. She also chose, at that time, to divorce my father. To this day, I can’t tell you why they decided to get divorced. I can honestly say that in the past 25 years of my life I’ve never heard my father raise his voice, become physically violent or even tell me he was disappointed when I made a mistake. He was the epitome of a calm and encouraging father. But after the divorce, he fell off the face of the earth. I often think that since there was nothing good to talk about it was just easier for him to not talk at all. After my mom’s initial diagnosis, we were optimistic and made a pact to keep fighting the cancer until she was cured. We put up a good fight, and six years later, after multiple surgeries, several rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, a bone marrow transplant and clinical trials with drugs never tested before, our options finally ran out. with the endless list of stupid choices i Made during this tiMe, let’s just say i’M really surprised My MoM didn’t coMe back to earth just to ground Me for life or kick My tush. I didn’t cry when my mom passed away. It’s strange, but I wasn’t sad, lonely, depressed or any of the emotions I expected I would feel. Instead I felt defeated. All that struggling, heartache and fighting… and for what? She didn’t live, and now I was left to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I had spent the last six years caring for her and was suddenly nervous about the overwhelming calm and silence that rolled over my life. Instead of turning to God, as I had always done, I decided that God had never been there, that my dreams of meeting him were very foolish and that I had wasted precious time in devoting my life to him. It should come as no surprise that when you turn away from God you often turn to less-than-positive alternatives. With the endless list of stupid choices I made during this time, let’s just say I’m really surprised my mom didn’t come back to earth just to ground me for life or kick my tush. 44

Luckily my poor choices didn’t kill me, land me in jail or leave any unbearable permanent scars on my body or soul (although there was the drunken rollerblading incident that resulted in minor injuries). They did, however, leave me wandering through life with no real sense of direction. I didn’t know it yet, but the summer before my last semester of college would prove to be a turning point in my life. I had just finished classes, and the tiny threads holding my life together began to fray. Most of the incidents were little. My keys got locked in my car, my economic stimulus check was lost in the abyss that is the U.S. mail system, and no matter how hard I worked out I couldn’t lose that pesky five pounds that lingered after the snow melted. These minor incidents kept building until the worst happened. You might be thinking that someone died or I was diagnosed with a rare illness, but no… this was not the case. My boyfriend went out to eat with his ex-girlfriend and didn’t tell me about it (time for the gasps of shock). This incident in itself really wasn’t that big of a deal, but coupled with the prior weeks of stress and anxiety, it really pushed me to the edge of my normally sweet, reasonable self. I could feel the demons of anger rising inside of me. Here I was having a rough time and the one person who I’m supposed to count on had lied to me? I would come to find out later that his ex-girlfriend had been in a car accident, and since he is her insurance agent, he was just grabbing dinner to talk with her about her options. But at the time, I didn’t know the nature of their meeting and because I was such a mess, I assumed he was thinking about getting back together with her. Completely distraught, and on the verge of a major brownie binge, I thought the best way to fight the demons would be a nice quiet drive in the country. I’ve heard the expression that “when it rains, it pours,” and well, God thought it would be fun to send a metaphoric hurricane my way that day. My car decided it was time to go to the big salvage yard in the sky. That was how I learned that cars have something called a steering rack, and it’s not good when they break. My car was beyond repair, and I was going to have to get a new one. There was only one problem… how was I supposed to buy a new car? I had no savings, had never taken out a loan in my life, and was a typical college student living off Easy Mac. It was at this moment that I turned to God. I laid my head on my steering wheel and whispered, “God I could use some help.” And then… nothing happened. I don’t know what I was expecting at this time, maybe a reply or a bright ray of sunlight, but instead my plea was met with silence. At this point all of the anger and frustration that I’d been building up for years finally came out. I remember being in the middle of nowhere yelling at the

i didn’t cry when My MoM passed away. it’s strange but i wasn’t sad, lonely, deressed, or any of the eMotions i eXpected i would feel. instead i felt defeated.

top of my lungs, “HELLO UP THERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? A LITTLE HELP DOWN HERE!” I settled for the realization that nothing was going to happen. That God wasn’t there, didn’t care about me and wouldn’t be coming to my rescue. It was at that moment that I began to cry… and cry. Four hours and half a box of tissues later, I was still crying and eventually drifted off into sleep. I woke up the next morning with a missed call from my father. I hate to use the word “estranged” when referring to him so I usually choose to say we’re in minimal contact because of hectic schedules. In other words, we often go years without talking to each other and he pretty much feels like a stranger in my life. But, that day, I called him back. After I told him about my car, he said he would take off work and come to St. Cloud to get me a new one. What? My dad is going to buy me a car? You’ve got to be kidding me. The next day was incredible. My dad bought me a new car, the stimulus check that had been missing for three months miraculously showed up, and I had a long talk with my boyfriend, which made me realize just how amazing he is. I’ve always been told that God works in mysterious ways, but I had never been told that God could be so straightforward and apparent. I’m now working on repairing the relationship that I had with God. I started attending church for the first time in years, though it took several minutes and a good pep talk to get me in the door. But, I managed to sit through a service without having the urge to cry or vomit. Then I began to slowly involve my family in my life again. It’s strange because my father and brother never did anything wrong. We just slowly stopped talking after mom got sick. The days of not talking turned into weeks, months, then years. Eventually their absences at important moments in my life, and not being there to help care for my mom caused me to begin to hate them. Now I know I’m partially to blame, because I should have never let them slip out of my life in the first place. I always had dreamt of finding God, but had never taken the time to look hard and realize that he was always right there. 45

v by nicolle westlund photography provided by crash dance productions

As I looked through the black and white program, my body jolted as I read one of the song names. “Toxic”? I thought. Like the Britney Spears’ song? I thought this was supposed to be a contemporary dance company. “Did you see this?” I whispered to my friend Tera, pointing out the Britney Spears’ song. “Really? I was expecting something more creative than this.” A little bit skeptical, I decided to save my judgments for later and sat back in my theatre style seat, ready for the curtain to open. A short two and a half minutes later, I felt as ashamed as a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar. My judgment was off by a mile – the contemporary dance number I had just witnessed was nothing like Britney Spears’ music video. In fact, it wasn’t even the Britney Spears’ version of the song. I sank into my seat as I scolded myself for selling the dancers short. Even though I myself am a veteran dancer, the term “professional dancer” elicits a variety of images. The skimpy outfits of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders may define the term. The dedicated lifestyle of a prima ballerina is another. The booty shaking of a music video backup dancer is what came to my mind in this instance. But to Ali Goldberg and the members of Crash Dance Productions, being a professional dancer isn’t as glamorous or as clichéd as any of those stereotypes. Often, the members of the contemporary dance company don’t even have

space to practice. “We’re kind of nomadic,” said Ali. “We don’t really have practice space or a building. We just float around.” Ali, a senior political science and English major at the University of Minnesota, has been involved in dance her entire life. She began dancing at Metro Dance Center in Shoreview, Minn. and in eighth grade moved her dance career to Stage Door Center of Performing Arts, in Coon Rapids, Minn. At both studios, Ali entered the competition circuit. She danced and competed at Stage Door through high school, but when she graduated, she was at a loss for how to fit her love of dance into a standard higher education model. She didn’t want to join the University of Minnesota’s dance team despite its impressive resume (the team is four-time national United Dance Association champions). And Ali didn’t see herself as a dance major either. Instead, in August 2007, she decided to start her own company, Crash Dance Productions, with the help of her cousin, Rachel Brenk, a fellow dancer and a graduate of the University of St. Thomas. “I was so disappointed with the professional dance scene,” said Ali. “I had taken classes in Los Angeles, been in a music video and worked with a dance agency, but I wasn’t getting the dance experience I wanted. Modern dance is such a big part of professional dance, and that’s not what I was trained in. Starting my own company seemed like the best option.” Her dilemma is common for dancers growing up with classical dance training and experience in the national competition circuit. Deborah Johnson, a college graduate and current seminary student, found herself in the same situation after she graduated high school. “For a lot of ex-competition dancers, all of that training and technique was wasted if you wanted to continue as a dance major or professional dancer because mod-

ern dance, originating in opposition to ballet, is almost about being ‘anti-technical’ and very pedestrian and nonconformist,” said Deborah. “Thus, many jazz, ballet and lyrical dancers feel frustrated when taking modern classes because they feel like they have to forget about their technique and training as they perform dances that could be done by Joe Shmoe off the street.”

such as ballet. While technical dance training (ballet, jazz, tap, etc.) is the basis of contemporary dance, contemporary dance also represents a shift in style and thought process.

This difference in dance style is part of what propelled Ali to consider starting a dance company. While Minnesota is home to some of the most talented dancers in the country, said Deborah, what the Twin Cities lack is a strong contemporary dance company. “As far as I know,” said Ali, “we’re the first and only contemporary dance company in Minneapolis.”

Though the process of starting a dance company is a daunting task, Ali said she had the nuts and bolts of the company before she even considered starting it. As a competition circuit and studio dancer, she had networked with many other dancers, which gave her a springboard from which to jump when she decided to pursue her own dance company.

Contemporary dance, born out of a modern style, explores more creativity and storytelling through body movement than other types of technically-focused dance,

She began by calling friends who were dancers and missed contemporary dance as much as she did. Everyone in the company is someone she knows directly or indirectly

Both contemporary and modern dance almost always tell some sort of a story, but the kinds of stories each portrays are different. “Most modern dance companies have For the rhythmically challenged, the difference between very bizarre messages and themes that are sometimes contemporary dance and modern dance is like comparing offensive to people like myself coming from a Christian perspective,” said differences between Deborah. “Therefore red and green apples Music makes me come alive... It’s a huge influence it’s a breakthrough (they’re both types of in my life because all my friends who aren’t dance, so the differto have a contempodancers are musicians. The artistic community is ences can’t be that rary dance company such a welcoming community and so many local astronomical). But to in the Twin Cities bands are supportive of what we do; they get what a seasoned dancer, that recognizes and it is to be an artist. contemporary and applauds technical modern dance are as dancing and training alike as apples and mangoes; yes, they’re both fruit, but while also going beyond your typical studio dancing by their similarities seem to end there. trying to also say something through the art of dance.”

Crash Dance currently performs about twice a year, and though they’re still technically nomadic as far as regular practice space goes, they hold their performances at the Illusion Theatre in downtown Minneapolis. Their next scheduled show is for February 2009. Check out http://www.myspace.com/crashdanceproductions for more information.

through friends. Most of the dancers in Crash range from competitive dancers to professionals just back from stints in L.A. and New York to students at local universities. “Everything is student-run,” said Ali. “We’re all self-motivated because we all have other things going on in our lives.” The student-run aspect of the company permeates all departments, including choreography. Each season, the company chooses a theme for the next show. “We start with a concept and then fit each piece of choreography into the concept,” said Ali. “It’s kind of like writing a song. You have to have an idea before you can start writing the notes.” The theme also determines around which type of music each dance is choreographed. All members of Crash are free to audition to be a choreographer. Members are encouraged to choreograph in order to produce a show that has a plethora of styles, adding interest and variety to the final product. The vision of Crash is not only to provide a contemporary dance outlet for the Twin Cities, but also to partner with local musicians. “Music makes me come alive,” said Ali.

“It’s a huge influence in my life because all my friends who aren’t dancers are musicians. The artistic community is such a welcoming community and so many local bands are supportive of what we do; they get what it is to be an artist.” Crash’s shows often feature local musicians, which helps to increase fan bases for both the dance company and the musician. “There are fewer dance-aware people around,” said Ali, “so bringing the musicians into the show can mesh our fan bases. Fans come to hear the music and they discover dance while they’re there.” As I sat in the theatre, watching the last dance number, I couldn’t believe how much my judgment had changed in less than three hours. The combination of music and contemporary dance opened even my veteran dancer’s eyes to a different kind of commitment they made me want to dust off my dance shoes and join them on stage, even if for only a moment. I wasn’t expecting to discover anything new when I entered the theatre that evening, but that’s the beauty of Crash Dance Productions… the dancers have something new for everyone to discover.

L MEMOIR by ROMANA OSbORNE

I stand at my window and look out at the valley before me. The fog rolling off the river is spreading through the trees, leaving only their rusty-colored, still-leafy tops visible. The mountains strike a dramatic outline against the sky on this crisp October morning. I love days like this. I love this land like this. I feel like I could be here forever, that this is home. And as I think this, my heart squeezes in a familiar pain. This place has not always been my home. Twenty-two years ago, a cold September night found my family and I sitting on our suitcases in our courtyard on the outskirts of Prague, the capital city of former Czechoslovakia. The adults were saying goodbye to their lives, while my brother and I impatiently shifted on the uncomfortable suitcases, eager to get on with their vacation. That’s what we were told. That we were going on a vacation. We boarded a midnight train to Austria, unsuspecting. I was wearing my mother’s jewelry, a brilliant blue ring, set in silver filigree, feeling very grown up. In Vienna, we learned of our parents’ plan, and we became homeless over night. In a train’s ride, in a blink of an eye, we were separated from everyone we loved, everything we knew. We were housed by Austrian authorities, and told to wait while Austria decided if she wanted us to be part of her citizenry. Those days are hazy to me, full of anxiety and pain, but also excitement. We had no home, no school and no responsibilities. We were put up in a hotel for refugees at the foot of the Austrian Alps. It was not home, nor was it home-like; it was a space between. We would walk up and down the roads, dreaming of what our new home would look like. We would point at the houses we liked as we passed and smile, pretending that we could replace what we lost, just pick up where we left off. 50

we becaMe hoMeless over night, in a train’s ride, in a blink of an eye, separated froM everyone we loved, everything we knew. Christmas came and went, roads got buried by six feet of snow and only orange-tipped poles indicated where the streets had been. Still we heard nothing from the Viennese government and our anxiety increased. We were impatient to get on with our lives, to stop living in this empty space. And then, with the first thaw, we learned that our appeal for status was declined. Austria was swamped with many refugees from the Eastern bloc. We were not exceptional. Try somewhere else, we were told. My mother cried. We could not go back. In their absence, my parents were tried in Prague and declared guilty of treason and kidnapping of minors, future workers of the republic. Instead, my parents applied for economic refugee status with the United States

of America and Canada. And we waited some more. Summer came to the little hamlet and saw me turn into an adolescent. In July, the United States denied us entry, but the Canadian Ambassador, upon talking with us, said something I will never forget: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Canada does not need you, but you need Canada. Welcome home.â&#x20AC;? Three weeks later we were on a plane to Vancouver, our new home. canada does not need you, but you need canada. welcoMe hoMe. Vancouver did not feel like home. Upon our arrival, we were put up in a dirty hotel room, full of cockroaches. I kept waiting to feel at home. It was a strange thing, but I could not feel at ease. Everything was so foreign and unfamiliar. There was no place I felt tied to; no place could I go to feel safe. I felt none of the things I felt only a year ago, when I walked through my hometown, into my house, no feeling of belonging, of life lived, of a space filled with memories. This place was unknown, alien, and even the falling russet leaves in the fall seemed odd. For many long years I felt lost in this land, looking for home, a safe place to tuck myself into at the end of a day, a ghost watching the past, tripping over the present. My path of descent ended with the arrival of a child. My child. A small golden angel with blond hair arrived, and with him love, purpose and a sense of belonging. And then another child, and my family began to take shape, be reborn. Unconventional and backward as most lost soulsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; journeys are, my healing began. I turn away from the breathtaking view of the valley, towards the sounds of my sons, rummaging in the pantry, looking for things to take for lunch, or to eat for breakfast. The older one, a tall, lanky teenager, is teasing the little one, a cheeky little cherub with mischievous eyes. One irritates the other and they squabble. My husband gently, kindly intervenes. I watch, and happiness spreads through me. The little one catches my eye and grins. And I know I am home. a ghost watching the past, tripping over the present.

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Jennifer Dotson, executive director, is fairly certain that life is best viewed through a lens of imagination. As such, she lives in a world where playgrounds are meant for adults and cartwheels are a commonplace occurrence on city streets. She takes her greatest inspiration from her 92-year old grandmother who taught her that the most effective way to get a new perspective on life is to climb a tree.

Lauren Melcher, managing editor, can’t leave a bookstore empty-handed and is happiest when she is buying tickets to new places. She loves cooking and baking from scratch, especially while watching “The West Wing” and “Gilmore Girls.” Lauren can’t wait for the day she can say she has been to all seven continents (three left to go!).

Danica Myers, graphic designer, loves traveling and becoming a cultural collage of a person. She couldn’t live without nature, music that has soul and being surrounded by genuine people. Her favorite books are children’s stories that are deeply philosophic and poetic. She has a great propensity for inventing words and making simple things in life into elaborate metaphors.

Kelin Loe, poetry editor, just graduated from St. Olaf College. She moved from the contented cornfields of Northfield, Minnesota to the lakes and questionable urban planning of Minneapolis. Every day she writes, reads and studies for the GRE! In addition to reading poetry for Alive, she interns and takes classes at the Loft Literary Center. She hopes to start an MFA program in poetry come next autumn.

Abby Zimmer, executive assistant and designer, is a St. Joseph Worker living in community with six other women in Minneapolis. She enjoys taking the time to walk to local coffee shops, to read into all hours of the night and to dance in the rain. Abby looks forward to experiencing more of the city life around her.

Emily Byers-Ferrian, editorial intern, has spent the last three years between Spanish capital city Madrid and the country’s southern coastal city Málaga. In Madrid she pursued her English major at Saint Louis University-Madrid and wrote for the magazine The Broadsheet. She loved the journey of learning to speak Spanish fluently and has fun with the complexities and play of language.

Amanda CasaDeCalvo, public relations intern, is a senior at t University of St.Thomas in St.Paul, Minn., majoring in Advertising with a minor in Business Communications. She is obsessed with her cat Sabrina to whom she is now allergic, and her mom’s homemade chow mein. Amanda’s pet peeves are sharing milk with others and the word giggle.

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Alive Arts Media, Inc. is a non-profit organization that exists to empower young women in their creative, educational, and professional pursuits. We accomplish this by offering a high-level internship program, through the publication of Alive Magazine - an online publication featuring young writers and artists, and Picturing Everyday Beauty: a project to add insight to the viewfinder.

Today's teenage women are tired of being talked down to, talked about, targeted only as consumers, and being left out of the conversations that shape our culture. This generation of women are digitally-savvy, well-read, deep thinking, articulate individuals who are burgeoning with leadership ability. Given affirmation of their talents, feedback to cultivate growth, the education and tools to succeed, and a firm understanding of others' experiences to ground them in the reality that their dreams are attainable, these women will become the business and community leaders who will shape the culture for tomorrow's children. It is a story that speaks of hope. Alive Arts Media operates under the belief that everyone has a story to tell. As such, every level of AAM's business model and programming creates opportunities for individuals to tell that story. Utilizing a framework of mentorship and community, we facilitate dialogue between individuals at different stages of professional development that aids emerging writers and artists in their adolescent and early adult years. As an organization, we are run primarily by high level internships that function as short-term staff positions (editorial, graphic design, and public relations). By keeping the entire production of Alive Magazine in the hands of women 25 and under, we eliminate their competion with professionally established individuals, offering them greater responsibility than would otherwise be available at such a young age.

“DON’T ASK WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS. ASK WHAT MAKES YOU COME ALIVE AND GO DO THAT... BECAUSE WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS IS PEOPLE WHO HAVE COME ALIVE.” -howard thurman

Alive Arts Media responds directly to the following areas of societal need: - Leadership & Professional development/advancement of young women. Women still make 76 cents to every dollar made by men and, although women earn a higher GPA on average than men, their post-college professional goals decline as college progresses. Alive Arts Media constructively fosters professional acceptance for women in the working world, and equips adolescent women with tools to succeed. - Need for media reform, specifically the lack of positive media available in the young women's market. Alive Magazine presents a constructive solution that presents intelligent, realistic models for young women. - Personal development for young women, including body image, self esteem, and confidence. - Advancement of underserved women and youth in the local community with education and professional opportunities for college acceptance and postgraduate employment

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Megan Foss, graphic design intern, recently moved to the Twin Cities after graduating from the University of Minnesota Duluth. She loves animals, cupcakes with pink frosting, monster truck races and the previews at the movies. She dreams of one day owning a black Chevy El Camino and traveling around the world meeting lots of fascinating people.

Jaclyn Rainey, editorial intern, is a junior at Bethel University in Minnesota, majoring in Journalism and English Literature and minoring in Latin. She loves riding horses, surfing, reading Jane Austen books and seeing musicals. She enjoys British humor, making her own greeting cards and singing in the car where no one else has to hear it!

Lisa Teicher, public relations intern, is attending SCSU and has a passion for the arts and an obsession with Irish dancing and music. She has the ability to change any rock song into her own opera version. Lisa also finds pleasure in the simple things in life such as jumping in rain puddles, taking afternoon drives, and smelling fresh laundry.

Karissa Wagner, graphic design intern, is attending The Art Institutes International MN and is looking forward to graduating this year. She spends most of her time in a swimsuit, whether it is lifeguarding, swimming, or lying on the beach. Her other interests include traveling, rollerblading, reading, and painting.

Nicolle Westlund, editorial intern, is in love with everything Australian, including shrimp on the barbie, dingoes and saying “g’day mate!” She also makes excellent fruit smoothies and homemade popcorn. Nicolle studies journalism at Bethel University in St. Paul, Minn. and is waiting for the day when all the seasons of “So You Think You Can Dance” come out on DVD.

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We want to hear your voice in the next issue of Alive Magazine! Submit your creative essay, painting, poem, drawing, travelogue, photography, or article by Thursday, January 15th to be considered for the April/May issue of AM. Read our guidelines and submit your work anytime at www.alivemagazine.org/submissions.php. Submissions received after January 15th will be considered for future issues or published on our Web site.

For now, you can download issues of Alive Magazine and read new content weekly on our Web site for free. To purchase print copies of the magazine, visit www.magcloud.com/alivemagazine. To support the future publication of AM, please consider making a $5 donation (through PayPal on our Web site) for each online issue that you enjoy.

When we went all-online in 2007, we didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to be just another blog or magazine on the Web. We wanted to offer our readers timely content, but also reserve the chance to incorporate artwork and stories in a similar way as we did with our print magazine. So, we have the best of both worlds: new articles twice a week on our homepage, plus a fully-designed, downloadable PDF of the magazine every other month.

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We were founded on an audacious vision: that a new generation of women--given the opportunity, access, and vehicle to do so--could change the world. This vision found its wings through the establishment of Alive Arts Media, Inc., whose message is simple: her voice in the media, her place in the world. The bi-monthly production cycle of Alive Magazine is fueled by our internship program, where college-aged women design layouts, work with writers, and publicize Alive Magazine and Alive Arts Media events. To apply for an internship with Alive Magazine at our headquarters in Minneapolis, Minn., visit www.alivemagazine.org/internships/index.php.

We cannot produce Alive Magazine without our amazing supporters and donors. We want to specifically thank this powerful community that has demonstrated their concern for the next generation of young women. In the past year, our loyal donors have given gifts ranging from $5 to $15,000, providing a tangible opportunity for these young women to create the changes they wish to see in the world. Please consider joining them today at www.alivemagazine.org/donate.php.

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â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Douglas H. Everett

Alive Arts Media, Inc. 1720 Madison St. Ne, Ste. 300 Minneapolis, MN 55413 Change Service Requested