Imagination Collaboration Gwynedd Mercy Academy High School 2020-2021
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Cover: Isabel Llopis Inside cover: Alexis Kelerchian
The title of Imagination Collaboration sprang from the creative mind of Lisa Bonavita ’98 during a contest to name our newest publication.
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Imagination Collaboration Volume 25
Gwynedd Mercy Academy High School 1345 Sumneytown Pike Gwynedd Valley, PA 19437 PO Box 902 gmahs.org
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Editors’ Notes I am so grateful to have been a part of this publication for the last 4 years. The Gwynedd Community truly is a group of intelligent, incredibly talented women who use their time to continue writing, drawing, and creating. Imagination Collaboration was started to reflect this, and our group of editors has continuously grown as more and more students face their fears and prepare to publish their work. The poems and artwork in this publication all tell a story: the story of our Gwynedd girls and their daily lives as independent women. I hope you take the time to enjoy these works just as much as I have. Erin Stratton ’21
Art allows us to express parts of ourselves that would otherwise be kept hidden. We take inspiration from our own lives, imaginations, and dreams to create writings and drawings that reflect who we are and to connect us to others. This publication has allowed us to collect our thoughts and feelings about the past year and turn it into something meaningful. Imagination Collaboration acts as a place for Gwynedd girls to express themselves and share with the community. As we go out into the world and onto our own paths, we can look back at this publication with affection. The Literary Magazine immortalizes this period of Gwynedd history and the unique stories of the Gwynedd students in the 2020-2021 school year. I hope you all can enjoy reading and reflecting on these works and feel a sense of pride for all that we have accomplished. Megan Emmerling ’21
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Minds Behind the Imagination Collaboration Erin Stratton ’21
Megan Emmerling ’21
Co-editor-in-chief
Co-editor-in-chief
Associate Editors
Ms. Anne Monsalve
Devon Migliorini ’21
Faculty Moderator
Olivia Redd ’21
and Editor
Elizabeth Gomez ’22 Madelyn Gibson ’22
Ms. Mary-Kate Kaminski
Margaret Howard ’22
Staff Moderator
Gabriella Mcilhinney ’22
and Editor
Ava Russel ’22 Catelin Blaszczynski ’23
Ms. Caitlin Fasano
Alexa Cipriano ’23
Faculty Moderator
London Dilorio ’23
and Designer
Emma Gregorski ’23 Megan Meyers ’23 Dylan Burke ’24 Melanie McDougal ’24
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Table of Contents Time Went by Too Soon Kylie Magarity ’21......................................................................................................................8 Artwork Angelina Tornetta ’21……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………8 What is Curiosity? Cece Carton ’21 ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…….…9 Winter Morning Olivia Smith ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………...……10 In Solitude Tina Stathis ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………….……………………………………11 Artwork Halle Coller ’22 ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………….12 Two Hundred and Seventy-Two Grace Galbreath ’21…………………………………………………….…………………………………13 Artwork Kristen Yezzi ’23 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………14 Eyes of an Oven Jessica Dang ’21 …………………………………………………………………..………………………………………………15 She Leaves Me Now Cassandra Smith ’21 ……………………………………….………………………………………………………………16 Artwork Megan Harnett ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………17 Winter From the Eyes of a Toy Christmas Rabbit Julie Giannini ’21 …………………………………………………..……………18 The Life of a Basketball Olivia Small ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………19 Poor, Lonely Seagull Liz Gomez ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………….…………………20 Artwork Ciara Flynn ’22 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………20 Someone is Watching Kaylie Griffin ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………….…………………………21 The Sights of Winter Gianna Troilo ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………..………………22 Overcoming Anxiety Devon Migliorini ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………………..………23 Quarantine Poem Cassie McCormick ’21 …………………………………………………..……………………………………………………24 Artwork Claire Cotton ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………25 The House on the Dunes Livia Olsen ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………26 Artwork Kristin Yezzi ’23 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………27 Outside My Window Gabby Lorenzo ’21 …………………………………………………………..……………………………………………28 Music and Mental Health Devon Reing ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………29 Eye Contact Angelina Tornetta ’21 ………………………………………………………………..………………………………………………30 Artwork Angelina Tornetta ’21 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………30 Just Like Squidward Jillian Saloma ’21 …………………………….……………………………………………………………………………31 A Computer’s POV During Christmas 2020 Grace Fricker ’21 …………………………………………………………….……………32 The Scent of Love Liz Gomez ’22 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………33 Artwork Julia Griffin ’21 ………………………………………………………………………………………………….…………………………33 My Secret Admirer Scarlett St. Clair ’23 ……………………………………………………..…………………………………………………34 Stares Olivia Redd ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………..………………………………………36
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One Wish Olivia Small ’21 …………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………37 Artwork Gianna Olimpo ’22 ………………………………..………………………………………………………………………………………38 Winter 2020 Corrine Smith ’21 ……………………………..………………………………………………………………………………………39 Three Friends at a Coffee Shop Eleanor Jones ’23 …………………………………………………………………….……………………40 Inside a Word Valerie McLaughlin ’21 …………………………………………..………………………………………………………………42 The Bumpy Road to My Driver’s License Devon Sweeney ’21 ………………………………………………………………..…………43 Artwork Alana McVeigh ’22 ………………………………………………………………………………………..………………………………44 How the Change in Pop Culture in the 2000s Shaped a Generation Elise Downing ’21 ………………………………………45 Estrella Sabrina Beniquez ’23 …………………………………………………………….…………………………………………………………46 Artwork Angelina Tornetta ’21 ……………………………………………….……………………………………………………………………47 A Warm, Sweet, Stressful Christmas Sophia Giovannone ’21 …………………………………………………………………..………48 Is It Easier to Lie? Anjolina Shenko ’21 ……………………………………….…………………………………………………………………49 Artwork Lauren Hirschman ’22 ……………………………………………………..……………………………………………………………50 Opening Night Jaqueline Fazio ’21 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………51 This Year Has Been a Wreck Claudia Hunt ’21 …………………………………………………………………………….…………………52 Life Inside a Globe Isabel Llopis ’21 ……………………………………….………………………………………………………………………53 Artwork Kristin Yezzi ’23 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………54 A Sport That Opened the Door to Friendship Alexandra Wenz ’21 ……………………………………………………………………55 Losing Someone Close to You Sammy Saxon ’21 ………………………………………………………………………………………..……56
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Time Went by Too Soon Senior year is full of lasts The hallways bursting with laughs I look to my friends and say, “I’ll miss you” We all hold back a tear or few I took for granted the little things And the happiness that this school brings From the chants on Mercy Day To coming together for liturgy to pray Quickly it will be June And I will say that time went by too soon The past four years have been the best of my life As I look back, I wish I could do it twice I remember freshman year When I was so little and full of fear If I could go back and talk to her I would say to take in every moment because it will pass like a blur To Gwynedd, all I have is gratefulness For showing me what it takes to be a success I have grown into a woman of mercy And these values, I will carry for eternity Red and gold have a special place in my heart A second family that I never wish to depart Although I am sad that high school is nearly done I am proud to be a part of the class of twenty-twenty one. Kylie Magarity ’21
Angelina Tornetta ’21
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What is Curiosity? Curiosity has been around as long as humanity, no matter who you are or what you do, all humans have some degree of curiosity. To me, curiosity is a feeling that needs to be acted on always. When you act on curiosity and start exploring things, that desire to know more increases. Exploration and curiosity enable new things to be discovered and for growth to happen. A lack of curiosity would lead to plateauing and stagnation as humans. The motivation behind one’s actions is often curiosity, to find out more and learn whether they will like something, hate something, learn something, lose something, or even gain something. Curiosity is also a personal feeling, for example things my mom is curious about I might not be curious about at all. Each person has different passions that they want to explore and learn about, as well as things that deter them and they would never explore. There are two different ways to react to curiosity. Some people feel the need to act immediately and explore whatever they are curious about without further thought. At times, one feels the need to explore and cannot live with the unknowing involved in not exploring. However, there are also people that do not find it necessary to explore the things they are curious about in an immediate manner. You will find me among the former. I cannot live without exploring things I am curious about. I believe that through exploring you learn more and are able to continue growing as a person. I do believe that there can be some downfalls to curiosity. One being it can lead people into dangerous situations or find out information that should have remained undiscovered. For example, exploring the limits of the human body can be extremely dangerous. Certain people feel compelled to explore and discover things that can lead them to serious situations. For these people their curiosity takes over. While this can be a good thing it also can be taken to the extreme. You know what they say about what curiosity did to the cat. Curiosity affects everyone differently. By continuing to act on your interests and curiosities you will gain confidence and skill in exploring new things. The skills in exploration will broaden your point of view. As you learn about new topics, you incorporate these into your thinking leading to a more diverse and broad perspective. I encourage everyone, no matter how old or educated to listen to your curiosity. Open your mind to what you may learn about yourself and the world around you.
Cece Carton ’21
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Winter Morning My alarm clock strikes six. I fall out of bed. I wish I could sleep longer. The mornings I dread. Yet this one feels different. To the window I go. I suddenly grow cheerful, Admiring the snow. It is the first winter morning— No more autumn leaves. The most beautiful season— It puts me to ease. The snow falls like glitter, While I sip my coffee. This feeling of comfort— I wish could not flee. I cherish the sounds. The choir of birds sing A song that’s so lovely I feel like dancing. Though I wish I could feel This way for a while The morning has ended. Yet, I still convey a smile Olivia Smith ’21
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In Solitude Locked away dark in space, Alone here I cannot place, When or where it turned to ash, Forever looking back on the past. I had it all in the palm of my hand. All the wishes—I had them granted. They all waited for my beck and call, Making me assume I was the center of it all. One by one they all piled up. Yet, I could not be satisfied; it was not enough. Still, I asked for more and more things, Always excited for what the next wish would bring. They told me I had to stop; you see. These material things are too easy To break as they drop to the floor. Yet, I continued on while it was them I ignored. Everything I wanted, I felt compelled to grab, And that caused the knife to jab. The idols I craved burst into flames Showing me, I am the only one to blame. In solitude, I stare out the windows Thinking back to the tale of the man Minos. How much did he wish to simply fix this, Before he is stuck where the moon eclipses? Tina Stathis ’21
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Halle Coller ’22
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Two Hundred and Seventy-Two
I was on the run. Weaving in and out of the bike lane in Time Square. Dodging people. Running like my life depended on it. Maybe because it did. It was absolutely not how I expected my day to begin. It started just like any other day. I woke up to a blaring alarm, snoozed it, and woke up again five minutes later. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a pounding on my door. BANG…BANG…BANG. I looked through the peephole to see the barrel of a gun staring back at me. My mind went blank. I cautiously opened the door to find six men in suits staring back at me. Immediately, I tried to slam the door. A foot poked through the door path and stopped me in my tracks. The largest man shoved the door open, flashed a badge at me, and in a stern voice said, “We work for the CIA. Can we come inside?” Reluctantly I led them inside to sit at my kitchen table. I decided it was better to comply with their demands than to cause problems. My willingness might save me later. The man who forced his way into my house spoke and told me his name was Andrew. “We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time now”, he said. After a pause, I simply responded, “In regard to what?” One of the men laughed outright. Andrew calmly took the lead again, saying, “You have nothing to admit to us? Everything will be easier if you answer our questions truthfully.” After an internal battle and a long pause, I responded, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”. That was when things suddenly went south. Andrew lunged across the table and snatched my wrists. The shortest of the men attempted to grab my midsection. I dodged his effort easily and spun pulling my arms quickly out of Andrew’s grasp. Free for a second, I quickly sprinted around the table and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “After her!”, I heard one of the men shout. The men followed me up the stairs, but I had them exactly where I wanted them. They quickly approached, but I was ready. Once they were an arm’s length away, I jumped out the window, falling from the second floor to my impending doom! I toppled quickly, flailing my arms as I went. I hit the ground in a tuck and roll, running as soon as my feet touched the ground. Without delay, the men were on my tail. I dodged and ducked the oncoming pedestrians as I weaved up the street and into Time Square. After running for a while, I put enough distance between myself and the suited men, so I stopped, taking a second to check my surroundings. The street was very crowded with Christmas shoppers, and I seemed to have lost the men pursuing me in the crowd. After a couple minutes, I finally began to catch my breath. I may have been agile and quick in my movements, but I am definitely not as young as I used to be. I was separated from the men in suits, but with their skillset and resources, it would not be for long. I needed to keep moving. I had one option left. I sent a short text and waited. RINGGG, RINGGG, RINGGG. My phone went off moments later. “Hello?”, I answered immediately. “We will pick you up in a black Mercedes on Seventh Ave. and 42nd street”, a deep voice told me. The car screeched to a halt as I stepped into the street, and I quickly hopped in. Now that I was in the car, I could finally take a breath. Living the life of a person on the 13
run is not an easy task, especially at two hundred and twenty-seven years old. I have outlived all my friends and family, but I am eternally youthful. I expected the government would catch up to me again, just not so soon. I guess it’s time for me to relocate. Living the secret life of immortality is a constant adventure. Finally, I arrived at my destination. Exiting the car, a cat crossing my path hissed at me, then scurried across the street. I thought to myself, “You think you’ve had a bad day? Nine lives? Ha! Try immortality!” Grace Galbreath ’21
Kristen Yezzi ’23
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Eyes of an Oven As the coronavirus outbreak continues to spread across the US, more and more people are staying put inside their homes, and they turn to me. There are those who stuck at home with no conclusive end in sight and are hungry for ways to pass the time. As one goes through the plethora of activities with an abundance of free time at home, baking becomes a form of relieving boredom. I watch children and parents run around the kitchen gathering ingredients to make their favorite treats. Ranging from brownies, cakes, cupcakes, to bread, you name it and I’ve baked it. The shortage of flour and sugar at your local grocery store only goes to show how many people are taking up baking as a new hobby. People have been pressing my buttons but in a good way. But it’s not just people in quarantine learning new things, I am too! Before quarantine I have never even heard of “cloud bread.” In all my years of baking, my favorite breakfast food is bacon, tomato, and cheddar breakfast bake with eggs. But for lunch I would have to go with a classic cheese pizza. Chicken parmesan for dinner just makes my heart warm – literally. I’m happy that people use me to get rid of their boredom or take some stress away from them. I’m here to help and bake delish goods. I can bake whatever you desire and it’s not only delicious but stress relieving! Jessica Dang ’21
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She Leaves Me Now Rough and yanking is how we play, Which is how we should spend every day. We go to the store, the church, the mall, See new friends in every hall. Crazy and fun are the times we share, But in the night, I show extra care. We sleep and cuddle all through the night, With her warm hug holding me tight. And as I watch with careful eye, I know no creature will pass me by. She leaves me now here on top of the covers, While she goes and spends time with others. She brings new friends who I never meet, But I really wish I was there to greet. To share with them a special hug, That is warm and tight and feels so snug. Although she chooses to keep me hidden I know our hugs are not forbidden. For when she decides it’s time to sleep, Close to her is where I keep. We sleep and cuddle all through the night, With her warm hug holding me tight. And as I watch with careful eye, I know no creature will pass me by. My new home is under the bed, And she never asks me to meet a new friend. Was it something I did that made her choose, To leave me here singing the blues? I still hear all that’s happening, With her and that guy’s endless babbling. Until one night I hear such noise, I hear her shout, “Stupid boys!” And even thought she left me here for dead, I feel her hand pull me to the bed. She pulls me close and cries with me until late night, With her warm hug holding me tight, And as I watch with careful eye, I know no creature will pass me by. Cassandra Smith’21 16
Meghan Harnett ’21
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Winter from the Eyes of a Toy Christmas Rabbit Where I look down to find my feet The same position you placed me When you left to discover your own beat To search for the things That all the joy will bring For you to truly believe in This Christmas season. I know you are happy and well, But here is not half as swell. Now I stand here on the shelf Next to broken Buddy the Elf. Something must have gone wrong. We are not singing our cheerful song. The colder months that have come back Seem to shock me every time. Lively colors have now turned black Sharp as the needles on the pine. Here I long for my hiding place In the twinkle in your eye. But in that moment when you opened up the door Stepping onto the cedar closet floor I became fully aware To the depths my heart was bare. And when I first saw the thin blanket of snow Resting on your hill, then I would finally know. I should have listened when you told me this was home. Julie Giannini ’21
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The Life of a Basketball Hello! My name is Wilson, and this is my story. I am a basketball. I was made to bounce, shoot, and score. I have had such an amazing life, and as I approach my retirement, I thought I would share one of my best memories as a basketball. I was brought into this world in a factory, and then I was sent away to an airport in Kansas and landed in Philadelphia. I was then brought to my new home and met my soon-to-be best friend, Thomas. At first, he was a little rough with me—letting me roll in the street, leaving me under his bed, and not giving me the love that I needed. I was losing hope in myself and began to feel worthless. Then the summer came, and everything changed. His mom, bless her soul, made him go to the park every afternoon with his three friends. They decided to dig me out of hiding and brought me with them, and I am so grateful that they did. I spent every day with Thomas and his friends that summer and helped them learn the amazing sport of basketball. They made up games to play with me, set up drills that taught them how to handle me, and even found random kids to play pick-up games. From that summer on, I never left Thomas’s side. When he was 15, Thomas tried out for the varsity team as a freshman but was expecting to make junior varsity. On the first day of tryouts, his mom dropped us off early, and even though I was stuffed in his bag under his clothes and shoes, I was excited for the both of us. We sat around for a while, just like everyone else, but then someone asked if anyone had a ball to warm up with. Like the scared freshman he was, Thomas stayed quiet until the senior captain came up to him and asked him personally. Thomas dug me out of his bag and tossed me to the senior. When the coaches showed up, they let me stay on the court and I was used for the whole tryout. Because of our connection and getting to use me during tryouts, Thomas’s initial nerves were gone, and he killed the session. With his performance from that one tryout, the coaches knew that he was special and told him that he had made varsity. As soon as we got into his mom’s car, he gave me the biggest hug ever and could not stop smiling. He was so happy that he had made varsity, and I was so happy that I was able to help him get there. From that point on, I was considered his good luck charm and he did not go to any game without dribbling me before. The bond that I have with Thomas is what I hope every kid has with some aspect of their sport, and I hope that our story will inspire others to find something that they love.
Olivia Small ’21
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Poor, Lonely Seagull Poor, lonely seagull, Gliding across the vacant ocean, Years it has been since he has seen a friend. Years it has been since he has felt emotion. The bird searches to feed his offspring, Since their mother is lost within the sea. The seagull still flies and hunts, though, As he is familiar with misery. The crashing waves serve as his companions, However, furtively, they plot his demise. Not from malice, only consideration, For billows cannot bear to view his vacant eyes. Liz Gomez ’22
Ciara Flynn ’22 20
Someone is Watching It is December first; you are walking home from your twelve-hour shift at the hospital. You work in the intensive care unit helping with the extremely sick patients. Exhausted from the day, all you can think about is going to sleep in your warm bed and relaxing from being on your feet the whole day. It is a cloudy night; the streets are bare because it is eleven o’clock, but something feels strange. You take your normal route home, but this uneasy feeling follows you. Did you forget something at work? You have your phone and purse. That is all you took. You look around quickly to see if anything is strange around you. That’s it! You see someone a little way behind you, but you brush it off and continue walking home like nothing is wrong. After a block, the person is still following. You speed up, they speed up. What do you do now? You sprint home, lock the doors, and call your brother, John. He comes over checks all around the house, all bedrooms, the garage, and nothing. He offers to spend the night to help calm your nerves, and you get dressed for bed, easily falling asleep once your head hits the pillow. Another day, another twelve-hour shift. You get up at nine a.m. and do your usual morning routine—coffee, scrolling through social media, and the daily workout. First, you lift weights in the workout room then head outside for your run around the neighborhood. While on the run, you get the same uneasy feeling you had the night before, the feeling that someone is watching. Again, checking your surroundings, you see a car lurking behind you. As you turn the corner, you run into your next-door neighbor and begin talking, alert to what the car is doing. It speeds away, and you feel relieved. After the run, you take a shower and head off to work. At work, you deal with all your patients and their needs. About halfway through the shift, in walks a man. Dressed in distressed clothes, dirty, he approaches your desk and begins to ask you questions—questions that do not pertain to your job such as your name, age, relationship status, who you live with, and so on. The uneasy feeling is back, realizing this man might be following you. Is he the one from the other night? The man in the car? You proceed to ask him to leave, and he becomes rude and aggressive, grabbing your arm and demanding you to answer his questions. The nurses surrounding realize this man is unwanted and call security. On his way out he yells “you will regret not answering me, I know more than you think!” Feeling unsafe walking home that evening, another co-worker offers to give you a ride home, you agree, thanking them for the help. While home you call John again telling him what happened, and he spends the night. While lying in bed about to fall asleep, someone grabs you. Hand on your mouth. “Hello again, I told you would regret not answering me.” To this day no one knows the cause of death of you or John. Kaylie Griffin ’21
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The Sights of Winter One Monday, on a cold December day, I decided to take a walk To the Cornerstone Café. The weather conditions gave me a shock. I was bundled up head to toe, And the air was nice and crisp. I watched as the locals shoveled snow. Snowflakes fell in a wisp. I could have just driven my car But what a beautiful winter day To see my destination from afar. What more is there to say? I watch many people come out of different stores Buying their loved one's gifts— Their smiling faces as they walk out the doors Fulfilling their children’s wish lists. People are gathered, young and old To witness the giant Christmas tree. They gathered though it is very cold. They wanted nothing but to see. I finally arrive at the café. The warmth greets me as I enter. I sip on my hot cocoa while I pay Oh, how I adore December!
Gianna Troilo ’21
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Overcoming Anxiety If you could see inside my mind, Amidst my troubles, you would find A girl filled with passion and love, Overcoming her anxieties and rising above. Separating what is real and fake, Will rid my mind of its mental ache. Accepting that it’s all in my head, Leaves me to focus on what’s in front of me instead. As I concentrate on what’s outside my mind, My dark thoughts no longer leave me feeling confined. Seeing life in a new light, I know now that everything is going to be alright. Focusing more on self-care, Allows me to see that I am truly rare. I accept my hardships with open arms, Knowing without them I would not have my special charm. Maintaining a positive attitude, Fills my mind and soul with immense gratitude. No longer draining my energy on the past, Will shed light on what is important and what will last.
All my tears come and go, And through the pain, I learn to grow. My anxiety will never defy me, And I finally know how it feels to be free. Devon Migliorini ’21
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Quarantine Poem When it seems like there’s nothing to do while we’re in quarantine, Look on the bright side! You could binge a TV show, try a new recipe, maybe even clean? Go on a walk, or go for a drive, Do a Chloe Ting workout, but grab your caffeine. Become obsessed with Timothée Chalamet just like me. Learn a new Tiktok, start a new book, Try a new makeup trend, maybe even three. Play a family game like who is the best cook, What else can you do? Let’s see. Get ahead of your schoolwork— I know it can be a pain. But do not forget to study and do your homework. Log onto your online class and start up your brain. Oh no! what happened with my network? Drive thru Chick-Fil-A or Starbucks, Don’t forget your mask! You could even go to a pond to feed the ducks, In the nicer weather, go in the sun to bask. Listen to new music if you are stuck. Whatever you do, don’t be sad, This will all be over soon. I know it might sound bad, But I hope this is over by the 5th of June!
Cassie McCormick ’21
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Claire Cotton ’21 25
The House on the Dunes A warm southern breeze drifted through the yellow grasses of the sand dunes as the shrill symphony of cicadas cut through the summer day. On these dunes, there sat a white house with red rocking chairs overlooking the great ocean. The house had weathered many storms, and the peeling white paint that had once been admired now began to fall to the ground like snow. Although the house looked dilapidated, its foundation was still as strong as the day it was built. A sorrowful oak tree draped with Spanish moss swayed gently over the house, casting shadows over the faded red rocking chairs on the front porch. The worn path leading up to the porch had begun to crack and sprouts of green and tiny yellow dandelions began to reach towards the rays of sun. The bricks on the front porch were faded from the many feet that had passed over them and into the house. The rocking chairs rocked faintly in the breeze, as if two parents were sitting in them, watching their children play in the shade of the oak tree. Around the back of the house was a wall of windows that reflected the afternoon glow of the ocean. The grass was worn thin from the many family gatherings held here. A faint ghostly sound of adults laughing and the squeals of children running to the ocean drifted through the breeze. The smells of smoke from a grill and rose perfume seemed to linger in the humid air. From inside the house, there was a flicker of movement, for a girl still lived in the sad house. She lived surrounded by memories of her past. She could still hear her father’s laughter ringing through the living room and the chatter of her mother with her neighbors. Her family was not dead, but they had left her to travel out into the vast ocean while she decided to look after the house. The house had felt quite lonely when the family left. There was no more chaos, arguing, stomping, or laughter. The house was grateful that the girl had stayed behind to care for it, but the house wanted nothing more than for the girl to go out into the ocean. Every morning, the girl got up and opened all the windows in the old house so that the salty ocean breeze could whip through the gauze curtains covering the cracked windows. She then sat at the faded wood table set for five and ate a steaming bowl of oatmeal. She always sat facing the glistening ocean and listened to the old radio that carried a mellow tune that drifted out of the open windows. Every afternoon, the girl would hike down to the beach to watch the dark clouds of a thunderstorm roll in across the churning waters. She felt safe in her routine, but deep down inside of her she knew that it was time for her to leave her beloved house and venture out into the uncharted waters. The house also knew that it was time for the girl to leave and felt joyful and sorrowful at the same time. Joyful that the girl would finally venture out into the great ocean to discover her destiny, sorrowful that there would no longer be a gentle melody from the radio drifting up the stairs or the soft creak of footsteps on the worn oak floors. The girl took nothing with her, for she carried all that she needed within her heart. And as she set off into the great unknown, the white house on the dunes now sat empty, but couldn’t have felt fuller with the years of love and laughter left behind in the peeling walls. Livia Olsen ’21
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Kristen Yezzi ’23
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Outside My Window December 9th, 2020—the first snow of winter. As I am sitting at the end of the red corridor on the rocking chair, I can’t help but see the flurries wisping around outside. Through the window, I can barely make out what I am seeing. The snow starts lightly, and I wait to point it out to my friend until I know I am certain of what I am observing. As the size of the snowflakes increases, the voices in the hallway get louder. Before I got a chance, my friend turns to me with a smile on her face and says, “Look!” while pointing outside. The happiness that snow brings is a unique feeling, especially because of the misery caused by the end of January. Most people in the moment of seeing the first snow flurries act as if snow does not fall multiple times a year but only once every ten years. The unexplainable feeling that you get is exactly why I wouldn’t wish to be in any other location based on weather. There is something special that comes with seeing the leaves start to change, the first flurry, the sun starts to come out more, and the days start to get even warmer. As much as people can favor one season it, it is almost impossible to not feel the sudden exhilaration. It seems as if the seasons change just as you start to get tired of them, and the next one is always just around the corner. Each season has its own benefits such as Christmas being in the winter and the pool being open in the summer. The fact that each season changes so frequently almost forces you to live in the moment—thoughts like “I need to ski now because soon it will be warm outside.” The change compels you to embrace the best of whatever season you may be in the midst of. The turning of the season can make something so predictable, seem so exciting and new. Year after year I will be surprised at how early it becomes dark in the fall and thrilled once again when summer comes, and the days magically become longer. Everyone needs some excitement in life, and the everchanging seasons can instill that in anyone. Gabby Lorenzo ’21
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Music and Mental Health We all know the feeling. You play your playlist or favorite album on shuffle and your favorite song plays. Your mood instantly improves and all that you are worried about in that moment is listening to that song. For that three to five minutes, all your worries and anything preoccupying your mind fades away. Or how about the feeling at a concert where everyone around you is singing that song with you and for two hours you have the time of your life. I have had my fair share of times experiencing this exact feeling, and I truly believe the key to fixing a bad day could be something as simple as your favorite song or even your favorite album or playlist. The way I see it is that if you can capture that exact feeling I just described and hold onto that for as long as you need it, you can find a way to have at least one good thing out of a bad day. If you start keeping track of at least one good thing each day, even if that just means listening to your favorite song as a distraction from whatever is going on in your life, I think that it is possible to see a change in attitude that could ultimately improve mental health. Now with that being said, I am not a therapist and am not suggesting that music is the sole thing that should help improve mental health. I merely believe that, sometimes, we all just need something to smile about on a bad day, week, month, or even year. If that means you listen to your favorite song on loop for hours, or in the morning you queue up a song to play when you leave school that day, so you look forward to something, then I think that is absolutely valid and acceptable to do. Basically, what I am trying to say is if you are having a bad day or a hard time, listen to your favorite song to feel that joy and smile at least once a day, even if that song is not the most popular or liked. I promise it does not matter if it means you get through the day and smile because of that one song, and that is how I believe music can have a positive impact on mental health. Devon Reing ’21
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Eye Contact Eye contact is one of the most intimate ways to connect to someone, even when the two people sharing eye contact have never met before. Now with every passing person wearing a mask, the dynamic of eye contact with a stranger has changed. People have had to adapt and learn to read someone’s intent and emotions in their eyes, but under their masks, people have also learned how to fake a smile by squinting their eyes a little bit, so they’re lying eyes. Lying eyes are easy to pick out. Happy eyes are easy to notice. What about empty eyes? What does a person with empty eyes hiding behind a mask have to hide? Why are they empty? Are they even able to show emotion in their eyes? Of course, all humans have to experience some kind of emotion. If someone’s eyes meet a stranger’s empty eyes, they will possibly ignore it and just look to the next stranger, or maybe they will wonder. They might wonder what that person had for breakfast, or how wealthy they are, or maybe if they have any family. Maybe they will wonder where that person is going, or where they came from. Will the person with the empty eyes notice the wonder in the stranger’s eyes? Maybe they’ll ignore it and look to the next person, or maybe they’ll start thinking. Maybe they would feel intimidated or pressured. Maybe it would freak them out. They might start thinking about what the stranger is thinking about. Maybe the empty eyes would turn confused, finally showing emotion, all thanks to the stranger that made eye contact with a stranger with empty eyes.
Angelina Tornetta ’21 30
Just Like Squidward As a childhood fan of SpongeBob SquarePants, I saw Squidward Tentacles as my kindred spirit—not just because his long tentacles reminded me of my long legs but because of our similar wit and dry humor. Squidward is a fictional character in the children’s television series SpongeBob SquarePants. Despite being loved by all the other characters, the character is infamous for his cynical personality. His advanced maturity is beyond that of his peers causing a sense of frustration to occur. I relate to this frustration because all of my life I have been surrounded by people who are older than me causing me to develop a maturity level much beyond my years. This was due to the fact that I am the youngest child in my family, and I have always had a very close relationship with my older sister. Through this relationship and my athletic career, which placed me in the company of much older girls, I developed a mental maturity that matched my physical mature appearance. Consequently, when I would be placed in an environment with children my age, I would often wonder why they acted the way that they did as I was not used to their way of interacting with each other. It was hard for me to sometimes “act my age” when I was used to socializing with a group of girls so much older than myself. Squidward is often honest about his opinions towards things he does not enjoy, such as working and his annoying neighbors. I similarly possess this trait of honesty through voicing my opinions when I am unhappy. Although Squidward is known for being grumpy and angry all the time, he is extremely passionate about the things he loves, one being playing the clarinet. Having an athletic interest that I have been passionate about for the last sixteen years has become an integral part of my identity. It has instilled persistence into all aspects of my life. Whenever Squidward is annoyed or frustrated, he always has his interests of music and art to turn to. I admire that Squidward balances his judgement of others with the acceptance of friends that don’t have many similarities to himself. Squidward is loved by all his companions which provides him a support system that although he refuses to admit he needs, is always there for him. Similarly, I tend to keep my emotions bottled up and may appear somewhat hardened to emotional releases. However, like Squidward, I have many friends who see the softer side that lies underneath my serious shell. Squidward has always been perceived as the miserable character, when in reality he is content with himself. It is easy to be misinterpreted with an edgy side to your personality. By accepting our differences, we allow ourselves the opportunity to grow while showing empathy for the misunderstood. True friendships build on the foundation of accepting each other’s differences. Jillian Saloma ’21
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A Computer’s POV During Christmas 2020 Merry Christmas! Today is usually not a very busy day for me, but this year I have a feeling that will change. A normal Christmas Eve for me is pretty slow, one of my owners, Charlie, watches The Grinch each year on me before he falls asleep, but that is about it. This year, my family was on a zoom meeting for hours! Although I was very tired, it was worth it to see my family smiling and spreading holiday cheer during what seems like such dark days. Charlie still keeps the tradition of watching his holiday movie before he dozes off, and it is finally time for me to get some rest too, as I have a big day tomorrow. It is truly an honor of mine to be able to bring families together during times where they cannot physically. My purpose as a computer has gone from being a device of entertainment, to a device of connection and one of the only sources of face-to-face communication. My Christmas day is filled with lots of zooms from grandparents to aunts and uncles to friends and neighbors. Each time the “meeting connected” pops up, I watch as the faces of my family lights up. Although the conditions are not ideal, I am happy to be able to help spread some Christmas cheer. I am able to take a quick charging nap as my family eats dinner, which is much needed. The last activity of the night, and one of my favorites, approaches as my family joins around me in their matching Christmas pajamas to watch old Christmas videos held in my storage. It is so comforting to me to know that some traditions this year can still be kept the same. I watch as my family shares laughter and tears together, and I just sit back and think how lucky I am to watch memories being made. I have not been used this much by family on Christmas since the day I was a present, but it ended up being one of the most special days I had as a computer.
Grace Fricker ’21
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The Scent of Love The scent of love, Oh, why so potent? Sweeter than any honey, Pure bliss for a moment, The wings of my heart flutter, When I breathe your perfume, And I may be able to glimpse, Life’s wonders about to bloom.
Liz Gomez ’22
Julia Griffin ’21
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My Secret Admirer Nothing ever happened in Rosewood, Colorado. Every life of every person was the same. If you grew up in Rosewood, you stayed in Rosewood all of your life. I hate this town. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a Rockstar with my tiny ukulele handmade by my father. I would call the band “Will’s Eye,” named after myself, Will. Every teenage boy has their whole life set up for them--participate in sports, have lots of friends and relationships, hopefully receive a scholarship, etc. I do not want to be like the other teenage boys. I want to create my own life, break past the societal barriers, start a band. I want to actually make something of myself—escape this town and explore everything outside of it. Most importantly, I want to escape Rosewood High school. I always knew I did not fit in at Rosewood High. I was the typical outcast. I played my ukulele, the same one I had when I was 6 years old. I did not know how to properly socialize. I was a basket case of anxiety ready to explode. I had two friends, Jaimie and Ricky. Jaimie is my neighbor. We have grown up with each other since the time we were born. Our mothers are best friends, so we took it upon ourselves to be best friends too. Even though Jamie is a girl, I always saw her as a brother to me. She plays video games with me, always asks me about girls, and knows pretty much everything about me. Ricky is my other best friend. I met Ricky in seventh grade. He was a new student who transferred to Rosewood Middle School. We immediately clicked when I saw him walking in the hallway with a ukulele. I just knew at that moment we would understand each other. Now, it is our Sophomore year in high school. Ricky, Jaimie, and I are so ready to take on sophomore year. Jaimie says every year, “Do not worry guys, this is our year.” I want to believe her, but the truth is that all three of us know every year has been the same. I want to have hope for this year. I want to try and stick up for myself. I know I will not do that, but I would like to think I can. The first semester was already over before we knew it. Now it is winter—the time every teenager dreads in high school. The weather is getting colder, and everything outside is slowly dying. This semester is going to feel like an eternity. Jamie told me she heard some upperclassman talking about a Valentine’s Day dance. I immediately gagged. “Ew, dances make me sick,” I stated. Jaimie said I needed to gain some perspective and just have fun sometimes. I know she is right, but I will not agree with her. Ricky agreed with me. “Dances at this school do not seem like they would be fun,” Ricky said. Jaimie said, “Well some mystery is involved this year because you have to ask someone to the dance in secret.” Ricky and I looked at each other and pretended to gag again. “Oh, shut up! This will be so fun. You will both have secret admirers, or you can be the secret admirers,” Jaimie said. “No way am I doing that,” said Ricky. I agreed. Two weeks went by and notes and special gifts started to flood the lockers. Both Ricky and Jaimie got gifts. I started to feel frustrated by this. Ricky and Jaimie constantly assured me I would get a gift, but nothing came. Two weeks turned into a month. I still had no gifts at my locker. Am I that bad of a person? Does anyone here even know my name? My mind was drowning in thoughts like that. I could not stop thinking about the
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gifts. I questioned everything. Maybe I should change my look or try out for the basketball team. Maybe I should start wearing cologne? It was February 7th, which meant there were seven more days until the dance. I walked into school that morning dreading the hallways filled with red and pink posters and gifts. I got to my locker and saw that there was a white and blue gift bag on top of it. White and blue are my favorite colors. I thought, “How did they know?” I was so excited and curious about this gift bag. I opened it up and there was a small box of chocolates in it. It also had a note in it that said, “I love the color of your eyes, and how you make me laugh.” I did not understand it at first. I never made anyone laugh in school besides my two friends. Who could this be from? I spent all day and all-night thinking about it. I wrote down a list of every girl I knew at school. None of them seemed like they would give me this gift. I crossed out every possible option. Was it just a prank? From that day on, I would walk to my locker and see even more gifts. People started to recognize me and congratulate me. I did not know what to say back or how to even act. I noticed that this secret admirer definitely boosted my confidence and mental health. I started to feel appreciated. I was just so excited. One of the last gifts I received was the day before the dance. There was another note that said, “Meet me at the teacher’s lounge at 8pm on the night of the dance.” I began to quiver. My anxious thoughts surrounded me like a misty fog, I could not see past them. “What am I going to do? What if they see me and run the other way? What am I going to wear?” I panicked. After school was over, I rushed home. I asked my Dad if I could borrow a suit. He assured me that I could. I went to the store and bought flowers and a box of chocolates. I wrapped the box of chocolates in red and white wrapping paper. I figured it would be appropriate. The night quickly came, and I found myself struggling to fall asleep. I was so worried about the dance the next day. I questioned if I should even attend it at all. I hated my mind. I hated the way I constantly thought the worst. I called Jaimie in the middle of the night. She answered and told me I would be fine, and that I should take advantage of this opportunity. She was right. I hate it when she is right. The next day I encouraged myself to go to the dance. Jaimie had a date, and so did Ricky. I got a bus to the dance so Jaimie and Ricky could be alone with their dates. When we arrived, it was 7 pm. I spent the next hour dancing and talking with Jaimie and Ricky. I looked at my watch and realized it was 8pm. I quickly grabbed my stuff and rushed to the teacher’s lounge. I was so nervous but excited. “This is it, this when I finally meet my secret admirer.” I could not wait. I walked to the teachers’ lounge and saw her. “Jaimie?” Scarlett St. Clair ’23
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Stares Two eyes drifting off looking nowhere, nothing precise. Glossed over, dazed Looking shiny like ice. Hidden behind glasses, His eyes begin to wander. Beauty beyond compare, As his heart begins to ponder. Furious and fuming, Shoot a dirty glare. Anger exudes rapidly, Producing a horrid stare. Water filled eyes, Trying to not break. Focused in on one spot, As her heart begins to break. The contest starts, Who can stare longer? The last one to break, Can be declared stronger. Two sets of eyes, Locked on each other. Filled with happiness, The stare of a lover.
Olivia Redd ’21
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One Wish A young girl was granted one wish. Tricked by society and the fake lives depicted through social media, she wished to be someone else; someone who was idolized with a sort of fame and popularity; someone who seemingly had the perfect life. Unfortunately, she grew to learn that this perfect life was all but a façade, a show to make other followers like her believe that photographs posted online actually represent the whole of a person’s experience on earth. Initially, the outcomes brought upon her by the wish surpassed any expectations. She looked in the mirror and no longer saw herself. She saw someone who fit flawlessly into every societal standard of beauty. She sat in disbelief that such a face belonged to her. Had her phone not buzzed, it would be easy to believe that she could have followed in the footsteps of Narcissus. Looking through her phone, she saw thousands of followers commenting praises admiring her “goddess-like” appearance. She was overjoyed with all these new internet acclamations and revealed in every part of it. Predictably, that thrill did not last long. She had everything she thought she wanted: the house, the car, the appearance, and the internet platform; however, she soon came to understand that this life was a lie. Her followers were led to believe that her extravagant lifestyle was free from the stress and worries of normal life because she never posted anything relating to such topics. They would be wrong. She had never felt so alone and empty inside. She had thousands of people following her yet was somehow left with no one to relate to. It is not like these followers actually knew anything about her. They see her pictures, feel a sense of jealousy for a moment, and then continue scrolling. She missed her old life - her friends, her family, and even her old face. Everyone had always told her she looked just like her mother. Now who did she look like? She wondered if her family and friends even existed in this universe she created. Although, even if they did, it would not be the same. They would never understand anything if she tried to explain. To repeat a previous statement, she looked in the mirror and no longer saw herself. Now, conversely, that was no longer a good feeling. Everything that she felt passionate and motivated towards had vanished. Every aspect of her life was now superficial. Her previous life was in no way perfect, but nor was this new one because there is no such thing as a perfect life. She hoped for the possibility that it was all just a dream, and she would soon wake up from her misery. Unfortunately, we cannot always wisp away the damage we bring upon ourselves. We have to live with our mistakes. Now, the girl is left appreciating the greener grass that was her previous life. Olivia Small ’21
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Gianna Olimpio ’22 38
Winter 2020 As the snow lightly falls On a dreary, afternoon day, I rush outside to catch a glimpse Before it melts away. I watch the white flakes cover the grass No longer can I see green, A smile grows large on my face I zip my jacket, so cozy and clean. The thought of Christmas consumes my mind, Break is in two more weeks. I can’t wait to make a gingerbread house, I now have cold, rosy cheeks. Although this year is unlike any other As we must never forget our masks There are certain experiences that remain the same, Especially the first snow and it’s many tasks. I make a cup of hot cocoa to combat my shivers, With extra marshmallows too. I run upstairs to put on my Christmas pjs Setting up Christmas décor with my glue. As I remember how much I cherish this season, Spending time with those I love so dear I now await Christmas day, I smile from ear-to-ear! Corinne Smith ’21
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Three Friends at a Coffee Shop “You absolutely disgust me,” exclaimed Alice Clarke. Her two dear friends were sitting at the coffee table on opposite ends of the couch with a pile of papers and books to separate them. “Can you hear me, or do I have to yell to get you to put your cave of work down?” continued Alice. Daniel Novak looked up from the notebook in his hand and stared blankly at his friend. “Oh look, you can hear me,” said Alice. She sat in the armchair adjacent to the coach. She picked up a crumpled piece of paper and threw it in the direction of her other friend, Jane Anderson, only lightly touching her forehead. Jane didn’t budge. Alice quickly glanced at Daniel, got up her seat and snatched the work in Jane’s hand. “Let’s see what is distracting my friend from such an engaging conversation,” after looking over the tome, Alice cleared her throat, “A translation of Mark Antony in exile while enemies prepare to attack his family-,” before she could continue to a guaranteed, poor reading of a translation, Jane had taken her work back. “If you get so much joy from reading something like this, I’m surprised your grades aren’t higher. Remind me who tutored you through Latin last year?” stated Jane. “And I still needed summer school,” added Alice. “It’s not my fault you’re such a poor student,” responded Jane. Alice rolled her eyes, “Well maybe if I had a decent teacher-” “-Alright,” Daniel interjected, “What was so important you had to take away our studying?” Alice’s annoyance only grew, “I don’t see why, on a perfectly good day, in our favorite group spot, you made the choice to bring, what, the entire semester’s work on the first day we’ve had free since August?” Daniel and Jane were quiet. After a few moments of silence, the awkwardness filled the space between the three. Finally, Jane left the back of the coffee shop. A few minutes later she came balancing three drinks. Jane broke the silence, “You’re right. When we’re here we had agreed we would talk to each other,” Alice was silent this time. “So, let’s talk.” Daniel took a sip of the same drink he had ordered on their meetings over the past year and a half before saying, “Did either of you ever carve out time to read Shirley?” Brontë was their collective favorite.
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They fawned over Brontë, followed by adoration of Dickens, and a near annoyance of Austen. They discussed Conan-Doyle, had respect for Steinbeck, and a divided view of Hawthorne. Jane tried to add her love of Machiavelli and Daniel to his appreciation of Hardy. Instead, they kept to their group rambles. They continued to talk of books and films, complained of siblings and teachers, and laughed at their faults and their perfections. They stayed together for as long as they could. As time passed and the day faded away, they were forced to separate. Their conversations blurred together, and their ideas were forgotten. Time consumed the three friends.
Eleanor Jones ’23
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Inside a Word What is a word, and what does it do? Is it more than just letters for a voice to pass through? Words summon heartbreak, love, and hate, too. But I think it’s time for a new point of view. Inside a word, is there much to see? Are there walls and a ceiling, or meadows, or trees? Are words three-dimensional, their own entity? For words must be more than just something to read. Behind the word “sleepy”, I think there’s a door. Open it quietly, see a world to explore. The word “sleepy” is tranquil, strange yet secure, It’s a land of soft clouds, and dreams to hope for. When I am afraid, “tomorrow” I find. I open its door, and I crawl inside. “Tomorrow” used to make me quite terrified, But now it’s a place where my wonder unwinds. But some words are empty, their meaning unfilled. Great words like “sadness”, or “beauty”, or “skilled”. Words just like these are for you to rebuild. They’re different for each of us, a gift of free will. Now, surely you see that words hold more than letters, They're more than just printer ink if you are clever. Words can be adventures, colors, whatever! So, you see, inside a word is really much better.
Valerie McLaughlin ’21
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The Bumpy Road to My Driver’s License As a September baby, I have always been one of the oldest kids in my grade. Like many other freshly turned 16- year-olds, I rushed to the DMV on my birthday to take my permit test. It was a simple 15 question online test about general traffic rules that even had a preparation app. Yet somehow, I still failed. This experience foreshadowed the next big test that would occur 6 months later. I have always been somewhat nervous about driving; something about the responsibility that comes with operating a machine that big and the damage it can cause really freaks me out. Nevertheless, I was determined. I knew that my license would be the ticket to freedom, and I was just going to have to push my car anxiety aside. My dad was the first one to attempt to teach me. After the first few lessons ended in tears, I realized I needed a different teaching style. I then enlisted in my Grandmother’s help. We began our one and only lesson in her neighborhood. Instead of paying attention to my driving, both my nosy Gran and I were distracted by the different houses. Debating over which shutters were better, I was unaware that I was headed straight into the curb. Reasonably, I decided to take a short hiatus from being behind the wheel. After a few months, my test date approached, and I knew it was time to get back on the roads. This time I convinced my apprehensive mom to help. We took it slowly, and her patience helped me feel more confident behind the wheel. When the test was around a week away, I was lucky to have my cousin to show me the route. I religiously practiced it and felt prepared… except for one thing. In all of my lessons, I had yet to practice a key component to the test, parallel parking. After sharing this information with my mom, she and I got in the car and went to the nearest parallel spot. Unfortunately for me it was at Gwynedd Mercy University. In my head, I said every prayer, hoping no classmates or strangers drove by us. After the first ten failed attempts, my mom decided to get creative. We started by having me stand outside and observe her technique, until we resorted to watching YouTube. Unsurprisingly, I still hadn’t mastered it. This is when things really went downhill. For some reason, she decided that now the best way to learn was for me to sit on her lap. Of course, I immediately refused, but then changed my mind knowing it was a last resort. I took my fully developed 16-year-old body and sat on her lap, squeezing my legs under the wheel. As one would guess, it failed, and driving home the silence was deafening. The next day was torture. I had given up all hope until my brother decided to take me out one more time. We drove to the parking spot at the testing center and went over the tricks he showed me until the sun went down. That morning I went into the testing center and nailed the parallel parking, much to my many instructors' surprise.
Devon Sweeney ’21
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Alana McVeigh ’22
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How the Change in Pop Culture in the 2000s Shaped a Generation No matter where you go, pop culture will always follow you. Even those who are not purposely trying to keep up with it are impacted by it every day. Whether it’s Britney Spears’ infamous public breakdown or the announcement of a new Kardashian child, celebrities influence people’s lives more than one knows. It seems like a trend today to put down those who keep up with celebrities day by day. However, looking more deeply into this topic, one can see just how important pop culture actually is. The rich and famous have been praised since the beginning of time. The 60’s had The Beatles, the 70’s had Elton John, the 80’s had Madonna, and the 90’s had Britney Spears. Every decade, ordinary people worship different pop icons and pay extreme amounts of money to see them live. During the 2000’s however, the ideology of celebrities and news surrounding them completely changed. People now had access to the internet, and pop culture connoisseurs went crazy. People started creating blogs about celebrity gossip, which entice individuals to follow celebrities more. Take Perez Hilton for example; he started his blog in 2005, bashing celebrities left and right, and now has a net worth of $20 million. The tabloids saw this and knew they had competition. Soon after, everywhere anyone looked, one would see news about Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston’s relationship, Lindsay Lohan and Hillary Duff’s fight for Chad Michael Murray, and boybands galore. The rise in interest caused a multitude of changes in the way individuals see celebrities. How these individuals dressed was now publicized 24/7, which made it easier to copy and take inspiration from their outfits. After Britney Spears’ infamous song “Hit Me Baby One More Time'' was released, everyone wanted to hop on the “schoolgirl” trend. Likewise, Juicy Couture sales skyrocketed after Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie sported their velour tracksuits in all different shades of pink. Another example of this was after the infamous “Bling Ring” robbed Paris Hilton, Megan Fox, and Lindsay Lohan. The world went crazy. People felt like someone they knew personally had gone through this tragedy. Even to this day society is influenced by celebrities: what they wear, where they eat, and so much more. Some people base their entire lives on what celebrities say and do, even if one does not notice it. Millennials and Gen-Z alike have been surrounded by tabloids their whole lives. Without the likes of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, and all the drama that surrounded them, pop culture’s influence would not be the same today. Some people may say that pop culture is unnecessary to study, but it is obvious how it has shaped society for decades. Elise Downing ’21
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Estrella Her glance was only on the midnight sky. She reached for the stars, but they were too high. Then she told her father, “They make me stronger.” He did not ask about what she had said, he just went inside to prepare dinner instead. The next day came and she hopped out of bed, excited for what the day would bring. She went out in the backyard to practice her soccer, then turned around and noticed her father. He shouted out loud, “Estrella! I am so proud!” But she did not understand what for. He then said, “Actions speak louder than words.” Then she realized what she had said before. She started practicing every day, making sure she practiced harder than yesterday. She was improving rapidly, and because of that she was very happy. One day she decided to take a break, because she started to get a backache. Nighttime arrived and when she looked up, she was reminded of the hard work she put in to develop. Her father came and sat next to her and asked, “Do you know why you could not reach the stars before?” Estrella responded, “No, I am not quite sure.” Then he replied, “Because you did not know how to get to them.” It is not what every day brings you, it is what you make of every day, and that was the issue. You cannot achieve anything if you do not do anything or put in the effort. You reached for the stars and kept moving forward. So indeed, the stars do make you stronger. Sabrina Beniquez ’23
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Angelina Tornetta ’21
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A Warm, Sweet, Stressful Christmas The overwhelming colors of icing fill the room, from the stacks of butter to the endless bags of flour, waiting to be used. The room is warm, with the endless smell of cookies and pies and cakes fill the air. The chaotic sounds of the pans hitting the counter and the Christmas tunes brighten the mood as the staff begin prepping for the busy day ahead. It is December 20th, 5 days before Christmas, and the lines fill outside as the customers line up to fill their baskets with sweet treats. Across from me is the counter filled with the raw batter of red velvet cupcakes. Inside of me is the Oreo and vanilla cakes almost golden at the top. My heat is 425 degrees. I have been working endlessly to ensure every cake, brownie and cookie is baked perfectly. It is currently 9 am, I have been hot for 3 hours with still 8 hours to go. My temperature between now and then will probably change 5 or 6 times but my day does not end until over 1500 cookies and 300 cakes are baked. Christmas is a very busy and stressful holiday for me, I am overworked and underappreciated. The pressure to bake everything perfectly and not lose power is my main focus. Some days the weight of the pans, and the spilled batter upset me but other days all I focus on the holiday classics playing on the radio that sits to the left of me. The tone of “all I want for Christmas” and “deck the halls” play in my head while the smell of peppermint cookies fills my shelves. Finally, the day after Christmas is when I take my much-appreciated break, awaiting the chaos of Valentine’s Day that comes soon.
Sophia Giovannone ’21
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Is It Easier to Lie? Lies are often the easiest thing to tell someone. When your friend asks you if you like their new hairstyle, it's easiest to say “Yes!” Instead of hurting your friend’s feelings, you move on, and oftentimes never think about the lie you told again. Having someone be 100% honest all of the time is often portrayed in fictional television shows or movies as a curse. Going around all day and telling people how you really feel would likely result in hurt feelings. Both subconsciously and purposefully the average person will tell around 68,000 to 126,000 lies in their lifetime. Lying to others is easy. It is as simple as saying yes instead of no. But what if you knew every time somebody lied to you? Would you want to know if your closest friend was feeding you lies? Telling the truth is a more complex concept. When you are told the truth, it most likely involves someone “coming clean” or “getting something off their conscience.” In society, telling the truth to the people you care about the most is often dreaded. But why? Why does telling the truth have to have a bad stigma around it. It’s because oftentimes we don’t want to face the reality of telling someone the truth, so we lie instead. We are wired as human beings to keep secrets and tell people what they want to hear. It is hard to be genuine in a world full of hate and deceits. The next time someone tells you they like your shirt or your new shoes, think to yourself, do they really mean it? Anjolina Shenko ’21
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Lauren Hirschmann ’22
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Opening Night Opening night… I have only heard about these nights from my friends back at the music shop. I always thought I would be the mic stand to end up at an open mic night or some Broadway show. But I’m not. I am the microphone stand for one of the world's biggest artists. Right now, I am in some tan colored room that looks like a jail cell. I think the show starts in 3 hours, at least that's what the angry guy with the clipboard said. He looked really stressed but, how could you be stressed on the best night of my life? I cannot wait to meet my singer. We are going to become best of friends, I know it. I’m his right-hand man, and he is relying on me. What if I fall off the stage and some fan girl captures me? My big break will be ruined! NO! I’m not turning this magical night into nervous breakdown. “10 minutes to showtime!” I hear from the end of the hallway. Have I really been talking to myself for almost three hours? Someone’s coming to take me to the stage! Showtime! The crowd. The lights. The stage. This is the first time I have felt like myself. I am finally doing more than sitting in a box collecting dust. It just went dark, I guess the show is starting. Here he comes, the man of the hour. Just stand up straight and smile. The intro music has started, and everyone is looking at me. He just took a hold of my microphone and he’s about to sing. Here we go…. “Hello everyone, I hope you all have fun tonight!” Ouch! He keeps moving me around. I should have told his management I get sick very easily. The first song is almost over, and the crowd is going crazy. Here comes the big drop at the end of the song. “It’s always been you…...BAM”. That’s my favorite part of the whole show! The crowd jumps and screams as he runs around the stage. Wow. This is magical. I never want this night to end. Seven Months Later: The Last Night… It’s the last night of torture and exhaustion. I think we are in Brazil? I have been to so many shows I don’t know where we are anymore. Not to mention I am so worn out and tired. I have been dropped, taped back together, and dropped again so many times. I can tell the artist is tired too. He has cried probably three times this week and that’s not counting the times I am not around. The stage is so cold and lonely before the show. Then during the show it’s so loud and obnoxious. Everyone is just screaming over a teenage boy singer. I don’t understand the fascination, he sings some songs and then leaves. I just can’t wait for this night to end, so this tour can be over.
Jacqueline Fazio ’21
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Life Inside A Globe When the snow begins to fall And the lights turn on for all, You wake up, knowing Christmas has arrived. But the chill in the air Makes your heart feel bare As this season has taken you by surprise. As you shake your snow globe And watch the little flurries glow, You realize what you hadn’t seen before. It’s as if you’re inside the globe Watching the world shiver cold, Trapped within this mirrored globe, there you lie. You want to sing with your friends Share stories that never end, But inside, you simply sit and watch. A world that seems scared So shaken up and unprepared And you wonder, Will this madness ever stop? With every snow globe shake Your heart begins to break With the thought of what maybe could have been, But you remind yourself, Not to scream and shout As every snow globe eventually stops its spin. You look up at the sky And no longer want to cry As one day life will go back to the before, When the world was at peace No more hunger or disease, And you know… That hope is in store. Isabel Llopis ’21
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Kristen Yezzi ’23
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In Loving Memory
Zoë Rogers 54
A Sport That Opened the Door to Friendship “Gwynedd on three- one, two, three, Gwynedd!” will forever be my favorite cheer before a field hockey game. Being a part of Gwynedd’s field hockey team has been a special experience for me. Not only have I learned how to be a better player, but I feel I have become a better person. Field hockey has taught me what it means to be part of a team and work together. Don’t get me wrong, it was awesome to win big games. However, the best part was celebrating with the team after, because they have become my best friends. Win or lose we went to PJ Whelihan’s, our favorite spot, to talk about our best and worst moments of the game. This part was always fun because we would be crying laughing over something crazy that happened on the field. These past four years at Gwynedd have truly been the best years of my life so far. Going to practice every day and playing in games taught me discipline, and at the same time, I had fun doing it. It never felt like “work.” It is funny how a sport unites individuals and helps them connect in a group, and eventually, they become a family. During this 2020-2021 season, sadly we lost our coach, Zoë Rogers. I was fortunate to play field hockey with Zoë for two years. This year she returned to Gwynedd to be a coach for us. Zoë was always someone you could turn to for a good laugh and someone to push you to become the best person and player you could be. She was dedicated to the sport and you could sense she loved it. I will keep Zoë’s memory alive by being the best player and person I can be on and off the field. I can’t predict what will happen when I go to college, but I do know that I feel confident I can handle whatever adventures I face. I have the support of my very close Gwynedd friends. I know they will stand with me for a lifetime. “One, two, three- No Mercy!”
Alexandra Wenz ’21
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Losing Someone Close to You I have always heard and felt sorry for those who have lost a loved one so close to them but never really understood the difficulty of it, until this year. This year has been all around so crazy and horrible with the coronavirus, sports seasons changed, masks everywhere you look, mental health, and the fear of losing someone. Our field hockey season at Gwynedd this year was one to remember—a bunch of outstanding athletes combined on one team. We started in late august and carried on making it to districts. During the beginning of our season, we stopped to chat during one of our practices, and I looked over and saw former player Zoë Rodgers walking up. My heart was so full but confused at the same time. I had not seen her in forever! She finally made it up to the huddle, and Coach Ally Fuller started with, “Welcome our assistant coach, Zoë Rodgers!” I looked over at my friend Mel and could not stop smiling. This was the news we needed. As we carried on with our season, Zoë pushed us all to become a better version of ourselves. She showed up to every practice with a Starbucks pink drink ready to make us run until we couldn’t breathe. I was always dreading practice because I knew some kind of running would be coming our way. The thing is, this is what made this team get stronger and grow together. She and I formed this bond that I will never forget. It was like right when she walked onto the field, our relationship from past years grew ten times stronger. During our first mount game, our biggest game of the year, I was not playing as well as I usually do, and Zoë knew it too. Right before the second half, she pulled me aside, told me to look her in the eyes and she said, “I know this isn’t the Sammy I know. Show me who the Sammy I know is.” After that, I played the best game of the season. She became my role model in life; she didn’t care what others thought and always put the team first. Before our game against Villa Joe away, she watched us practice corners, put some goals on goal, and I could see in her eyes she was proud. That game was not our best, but we still came up with a 14-3 win. I would give that win to Zoë. She may have gotten frustrated with us during it, but she never gave up and knew we would pull through. As the game ended, we all started to walk up, and before we did, Zoë said to me “Great job Sam, proud of you, I love you.” I just smiled and said, “Thanks Zoë, love you too!” But I never thought those words would be my last. She was the best inspiration for me, and she always will be for everyone. Thank you for the countless laughs, pushing me to be my best, and yelling at me, but most importantly, thank you for making me into the best version of myself.
Sammy Saxon ’21 56
Mission Statement Rooted in the Catholic faith and charism of Mercy, Gwynedd Mercy Academy High School educates, inspires, and empowers young women to be merciful in spirit, innovative in thought, and courageous in leadership.
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