TEST 2014 by Windfall: Literary Magazine

5. Short Stories 22. Poetry 34. Non-Fiction Writing 41. Culture & Arts 58. Photography Features:

52. Divergent: Essay Contest Winners 42. Inside the Book: The Perk of Being a

Matthew Pochel

Wallflower Cover Credit: Darien Parmenter â&#x20AC;&#x2122;17

Note From Editor: Thank you for

even though she says I do everything. I

picking up our

would next like to thank my amazing

spring

team, without these three fresh minds

issue of

Windfall.

our publication would not be existent.

Windfall begin

Thanks to our amazing advisor Jeff

has been a great

Halprin for directing us in the right

year for Windfall

direction through everything. Windfall

after receiving

has become a great learning environ-

great praise

ment for everyone and we cannot wait to

over our new

see where next semester take us. As a

Nichols College ’14

style and

Senior I leave Windfall into the hands of

English Education

format. This

some amazing people and hope with

semester we

their amazing talents take the magazine

Ryan Finnegan

have added a couple of new additions to

to a new level! Again thank you for

our format. Our magazine a wide variety

taking the time to pick up this edition

of student written pieces. As a new

and strongly suggest that if you like to

addition to our ordinary categories we’ve

write poetry, short stories, or take

added a “Culture & Arts” page to show-

pictures to come join our team! All

case students talents in journalism on

submissions can be submitted to our

different topics such as book & movie

new editor Katelyn Parkinson or to

reviews to why the world should love

Professor Halprin. Thank you and enjoy!

Miley Cyrus. Like I said last semester I am very lucky to be working with a brilliant and talented team. Their ideas and skills have reached Windfall’s expectations to the max. I would first like to thank my co-editor Nikki Anderson for all her support and help,

Windfall Staff: Nikki Anderson ’14 Co-Editor/ Vice President

Katelyn Parkinson ’17 Future Editor/ Treasurer

Olivia Harbert ’17 Club Secretary

Matthew Pochel ’17

iii

Chelsea Rafferty ’14

Jessica Frank ’16

Exclusive offer from

NICHOLS BOOKSTORE

10% off one apparel or school spirit item Just bring this ad to the bookstore. Offer valid through the end of the semester

Short Stories

Life’s a T

rip

Hannah Mobilia ’15

There never existed more opposite of girlfriends than Jana and Ryan. Jana was the extrovert. Her mouth was louder and more vibrant than the flashy array of clothing she rocked daily. Fear and anxiety had dodged her being and “why not” became an everyday motto for her. Ryan’s natural instinct was to swerve from any activity that would land her in the slammer. She often broke out in hives when an unnerving situation crossed her path. She was a young woman of solitude and holiness, yet longed and in fact, lived for, badass adventure every so often. That’s when Jana’s free-spirited, rebellious self took Ryan captive and she never resisted. It. Together, they would test every water, every depth, from quarry jumping, to bong ripping, even trespassing on some pretty questionable territories. No matter the shit they did, it was always together and full- heartedly. A few years back, after their high school graduation, the two of them decided to cross something off of their bucket list, and with a handle of vodka and no reluctance, Jana and Ryan snuck into Jana’s dance and gymnastics center. They spent hours aimlessly jumping on the tumbling trampoline, bottle suctioned to their mouths, the vodka often missing their lips and racing down their chins like raindrops on a windshield. Their singing voices shook with each sky-high jump they took as they celebrated the start of their young adulthood. The world was at their jumping toes. Jana and Ryan never let their often-troubling activities interfere with their studies. The girls maintained grade-point-averages so spectacular that they would be receiving special honors in their upcoming college graduation. Both of them were in denial that this leg of their journey would soon be coming to a close. To them, it seemed as though it were just last summer that they slyly snuck into the studio for a little innocent mischief. The happiness they were supposed to be experiencing was fluttered to shreds 6

with the sheer realities of life in the real

“We’ve spent our young years doing

world. They knew it was time to put

shit that your average Joe would only

away the bowls, bongs, beer pong table,

dream of doing and those days are over.

and overall thrilling illegal activities to

They are crushed, ceased, halted by soci-

settle for a life that would bring them the

ety, because society says that we’re at the

basic successes of life. Not only were

age when it’s time to settle down and

they leaving behind those specific deeds,

shoot the shit about bullshit. “ Jana was

but they were also saying goodbye to all

getting visibly angered at the fact that

of the wholesome, fun-loving times they

there was no easy way around this mile-

had grown accustomed to and fell in love

stone. Though her free-spirit yearned for

with.

a life of youthful excitement, she knew it was time buckle up for the next ride.

Jana went digging

“If we could only have one hoorah!” Ryan stated lightly with a small chuckle.

through her mind

Jana’s face lights up as her eyebrows reached heights that appeared to be to

to explain her thoughts while indulging

the top of her forehead and her chin ex-

in a blunt, “Ry, what the actual fuck…

tended. “Ry, you are so right. We have

this is going to be all over in a matter of

to. We have to do something to celebrate

two days. All this shit we’ve been experi-

those glory days, like the night in the

encing is going to be just a memory, like

gym! It has to be something that will al-

all the other times. Why does it have to

low us to be free because God knows

be over? Like, I don’t get it. We go to bed

we’ll be trapped in a two-faced, flat-lined

one night and the next morning we wake

world for the rest of lives.”

up and we’re adults, and it’s all over.”

Ryan laughed, “Wherever you go, I’m

“You’re thinking into too much. But

with you, as long as it’s not in a haunted

you’re right it’s quite crazy. I bet tonight

house tripping on acid.” She joked with

we’ll go to sleep and then we’ll wake up

Jana whom but to her surprised took an

in the morning with a growing family,

interest in her out-of –the-question of-

and a job with real money, and bills! So

fer.

many bills.” Cried Jana in a facetious manor. 7

“I have it. We are going to go on the

“It’s settled. In twenty-four short hours

trip of a lifetime. A trip to our yesteryear

we’ll be sneaking into that old, aban-

and beyond!” Jana rose to her feet,

doned auditorium, lightening up the

raised her arm above her head, the lit

bong that will send us on our little

blunt still perched between her fingers.

fifteen-minute trip! We’ll show shitty time what can be done on our crazy-ass

“Oh God, Jay, please, do not continue.”

watches.” Jana was confident in her

“No, no. Listen, here is what we will

witty response.

do…let’s be free birds and smoke Sally-

That night, the girls laid awake in their

D, just to get our hearts running through

beds for what seemed to be all night.

eternity! And…”

Each flittering thought of their last hoo-

“Ab…solutely not, Jana, do you know

rah sent their minds racing to different

me? This blunt is enough,” Ryan ex-

dimensions as if they were already on

plained as she snatches the blunt away

the trip. Neither of them could fall asleep

from Jana and takes a small puff of it.

for their anxious minds were filled to the brim with anticipation. Midnight quickly

“Here me out, this trip wont be a long

turned into two o’clock, and two o’clock

journey, it will only take us about fifteen

to four; the girls still flat backed in their

minutes. And we can go anywhere we

beds, eyes wide staring at the ceiling,

want. It’ll be like, for old time’s sake.”

dreaming of the unknown that was about

Jana was so nonchalantly selling the

to take place in less than twenty-four

idea so slyly to her best friend. Those

hours. To them, this adventure was

business classes proved to be effective

greater than graduation day itself, or so

for something.

it seemed.

Ryan could not resist the persistent will

As the morning light hit the sleeping

of her friend and finally caved in like a

faces of both Jana and Ryan, they

foot caught in the gooiest of quick sands.

quickly jumped to their feet. The normal,

“Alright! Jesus, Jana. I’ll do it. Let’s do

everyday, sluggish rise and grind was hid-

it. It’ll go down in those notorious his-

den in the shadows of what was in store

tory books of ours.” Ryan replied back in

for them that exact night. The minutes of

a quirky tone of voice.

their day carried the length of hours and what was just a ten hour day was their 8

entire college career. The time was

“In-fucking-sane. This is going to be in-

passed with activities that produced an

sane.”

glum anxiety from replaying their fond-

“Night to remember, right? Oh god!”

est memories from the past four years as

Ryan answered as her voiced squealed

they cleaned and packed their room up

with enthusiasm.

for the very last time. The mere thought

“For old time sake!”

of this segment of their lives being closed by a horrifying metal door known as the real world twisted their stomachs into

answered Jana as she held her hand out

the most painful of knots. This was real-

waiting for her best friend to grab it. To-

ity though, but they were reassured by

gether, they headed to the abandoned

the thought of what was still yet to come.

auditorium, walking hand-in hand like best friends do when they linger at the

Jana and Ryan swept a heaping pile of

doorstep of what is about to be their

dirt, dust, and other loose bits into the

most monumental memory.

dustpan. They tipped the dustpan over the garbage can and watched as every bit

The two best friends dashed out the

of the puny crumbs fell into the can, suc-

door as if a engine were running them

cumbing to its deep, trapping depth. It

rapid. Usually a ten-minute snail walk

was like watching the once glowing

took Jana and Ryan a mere three com-

times of their young lives disintegrate

plete minutes to get there. The doors of

right before their eyes. For a second, the

the auditorium were wooden and so ap-

room was silent. The girls did not say a

peared to be centuries old. The cracks

word and their heads were bowed in a de-

running throughout the door was like

feated manner, that is, until, the ear

maze and trippy itself.

wrenching sound of their winey cell

Inside, Jana and Ryan did not waste

phone alarm sounded, alerting them that

any time. They were preparing to be held

it was time. 11:00 P.M. With that, their

back in life as they shed their carefree

faces lit up like the lucky pink lighter

one, as society’s claws would soon be pin-

they so frequently use.

ning them both to their nightmares.

“Here goes nothing, Jay.” Said Ryan in

Nothing was stopping them now, not

a reluctant, yet pleasing way.

themselves, not fear, not contemplation, not authority, not time. Jana prepared 9

their salvia feasts. With each move she

It hit them. It hit them faster than a bul-

made it was with such hast and hurry for

let through a brain. It hit them faster

she could not wait a millisecond longer

than they could say the “wha” sound in

for this moment. Ryan’s thoughts raced

“one Mississippi”. And it hit them hard.

about as if her mind was already in the

It hit them as hard as the sole reality

tripping phase. The endless questions of

they faced when they realized how fright-

“what will this be like” or “what ridicu-

eningly quick their time had come and

lous facet will I venture to” were gliding

gone. The salvia raced through both

around in her mind in what felt to be a

Jana and Ryan’s bodies and heads as

figure eight pattern.

they quickly discovered the route of their trips.

It was time. With modelesque smiling eyes, the girls look at each other and

Ryan began spinning aimlessly as if she

down at their fate that was so tightly

were a ballerina, her leg flailing around

packed in small psychedelic bowls of

her body as she was trying to pump her-

their own. Jana and Ryan held them up

self around. Her was aimed at the sky-

in front of them. “Cheers to…Cheers to

high ceiling and her hands remained out

something. Cheers to something that re-

in the open air. She was humming a

mains a mysterious to us.” Said Ryan.

tune, one at random, as she continued to dance around like an uncoordinated

“Cheers to us and our times. Cheers to

skeleton. She was looking out into the

the now.” Replied Jana. The girls clicked

empty room and saw a crowd of sophis-

their bowls together and within the next

cated people and heard the drowning

few seconds had lit the flame that was

sound of glasses clanking together and

about to produce an epic ride. As Jana

hyper piano keys. She was Velma Kelly,

and Ryan both took a deep inhale, they

in what seemed to be a 1920’s jazz bar,

were not only gulping the recipe to their

and was the classy act of the evening.

wild and daring “last hoorah”, but they

She felt as if hundreds of eyes were fo-

were ingesting every moment that lead

cused all on her and her fabulous flapper

up to that point in time, in the aban-

performance. Ryan began to see flashing

doned auditorium, together, almost

lights snapping all around, her many

ready to bolt up the chapters consisting

fans capturing her in action with their

of all that they have ever known.

cameras. 10

She felt an overwhelming sense of ela-

centered back to normality within min-

tion as she took center stage and felt her-

utes. They were back in the haunting

self springing up to the highest of places,

auditorium where their last hoorah

on top of the world. Her journey sent her

quickly became another lost moment in

tripping back in time to the age of fabu-

time. As they came down from their out-

losity and had achieved the unimagin-

landish highs they found a comfortably

able. She would like experience an adven-

spot right under the sparkling chandelier

ture like this for the remainder of her

that dangled in the middle of the ab-

life. Ryan whisked over to her friend who

stractly painted ceiling.

was having a unique time herself.

“We did it.” Said Ryan in a state of dis-

Jana’s took a different route on her

belief. She was pleased with her willing-

trip. She didn’t take a journey back

ness to partake in this bold escapade.

through time or to the future to encoun-

“Yeah, huh? It’s all over now. All ten, fif-

ter aliens, a new world, or a land of spin-

teen minutes of our little last hoorah is

ning neon colors and shapes in a fairy-

over.” Jana was not as pleased with her

tale land. Jana was stuck in a slump, in

specific time during their hoorah. She

her body aching to break free. She felt as

wanted excitement and exploration but

though there were crawling spider

instead, she got fear.

trapped under her skin and began to feel

Ryan could sense Jana’s disappoint-

the world around her growing smaller. Her eyes were glued open for every time

ment and depression so she scooted her-

she closed them for the slightest second

self up against her best friend and nes-

she plunged into a revolving black hole.

tled her head on her shoulder. “But it

She feared this hole and did not want to

isn’t over. First of all, we still have the

plunge into its mysterious and eerie

rest of the night. Second of all, we have

depths. Jana became lost in her trip and

the rest of our lives. Honestly, let’s be

was trying to connect

real, this isn’t our last hoorah.” Ryan attempted to raise her friend’s spirits.

with her out-of-touch adventure, but it

Ryan’s words planted a great thought

came to no avail.

in Jana’s mind and heart. This was not

The next moment caught them by such

their last hoorah and Jana understood

surprise. Their trips ended abruptly and

that. Jana, the one who was always the 11

notorious “free spirit” had fell into society’s trapping black hole that sucks the soul out of humans. For a brief moment in her life, she allowed the idea that her entry to the so-called “real world” would forever trap her in a fake, unfulfilling life full of mediocre substance. It was shocking to see that Ryan, the token worrywart would be the one to save her best friend from this dark pit. They didn’t speak of their trips or of the wild details they had experienced. They did not grieve the past nor worry about the future. They were still lying down next to each other in the center of the abandoned auditorium. As Jana and Ryan were embracing each other’s presence, their entire beings felt at ease. Finally. Their short fifteenminute trips became a quest for each of them. It was a quest to discover the truth. It was a quest to discover the realities of life that are so often misconstrued by the members of a bitter society who tragically fall victim to that pitiful, trapping, black hole. With the notation of a seemingly eternal and never-ending life ahead of them, Jana and Ryan fell sound asleep in the auditorium, to dream of all of their breathtaking hoorahs to come.

WONDERLAND Nikki Anderson

2 a.m. I’m drunk. I like to be drunk, I like the way my tongue goes numb and the way gut-rot chardonnay starts to taste like Kendall Jackson or Clos du bois after the third glass. I like the way my mind starts to go and there are no more thoughts to be had, just ideas to spin into realities that are really dreams but I am drunk so it doesn’t matter. I like to be drunk. It’s a pretty good time. I think I might like to paint or write a story but it is probably be time to go to bed. I go into the basement instead and only slip a little on the stairs. The stairs are carpeted with a cheap overlay Berber my in-laws bought and I fucking hate it. I’m glad the cats claw it every chance they get. I’m not so glad I slipped just now because I should have taken my socks off but I didn’t. I would take them off but it’s cold down here and I do not like cold feet. I think maybe it’s time to paint.

4 a.m.

have just woken up but I cannot stop laughing and Mac’s face is way up near

There’s a mural on the wall now, or the

the ceiling somewhere and then I remem-

start of a mural anyway. It’s nice, I think.

ber that the pills are hidden, Mac hides

I’m surprised at how good it has come

the pills but I can usually find them.

out; you can barely tell I am drunk from the way the lines go. I like to be drunk.

I cry a little and tell him I am sorry.

It’s like another whole reality but a

He calls his office and leaves a message

happy one, not the shitty one we so often

that he will be late. Mac puts me to bed

get stuck with. I am bored now, bored

but he does not tuck me in. I remember

with painting and with life. I think

now, the pills are under the mattress.

maybe there’s a Percocet or a Vicodin in

Mac is highly un-original.

an old coat pocket somewhere.

He does not kiss me good-night, or

When I go back up the stairs I don’t slip

good-morning for that matter. I wonder

and it feels like a triumph. There are no

if I took the time to brush my teeth if he

pills, not anywhere. Maybe it’s time for

would have kissed me.

bed now. I could play video games, I guess.

7:30 a.m.

5 a.m.

I can hear them, awake.

The kids will be up soon, but Skyrim is

“Where’s Mommy?” it’s Kelsey, the little

just so damn entertaining.

one. She’s still too young to realize her mother is a drunk. Shannon loves me,

7 a.m.

she does, but she’s old enough to know

I burn the fucking scrambled eggs and

by now.

smoke is everywhere and Mac comes

I like to be drunk.

stumbling into the kitchen, drunk from sleep and I am drunk on wine and it is

“She’s sick. Come and eat breakfast and

funny to me that we are both drunk but

let’s make the bus in time, okay?” I can

on such different substances. I have noth-

hear Shannon snort and I imagine the

ing to say for myself and I can tell by the

look Mac is giving her, half-pity and

way Mac is looking at me that he is less

half-amusement because she’s right,

than ecstatic. I try to play it off like I

Mommy is a no good fucking drunk. But 14

before the guilt sets in the pills do and

but I can tell from her voice that he’s

the guilt flies away just like Dorothy and

there, the cunt.

her fucking rainbow. Or maybe it was

I know he’s sleeping with her.

the witch and her bicycle.

4:00 p.m.

12:30 p.m.

The girls aren’t home. I must have fallen

My head hurts. Oh fuck does it hurt. The

asleep again and I remember where the

house is quiet. Did someone die? Some-

pills are now so I take them but not all of

one must have died. Why else would it

them because I’ll just puke them up

be so quiet in here…where the hell is

again. I take three. Three is a good num-

every one? I half-turn and lift my head

ber. It is biblical, I think. The girls

as high as I can without puking and now

should be home. I call Mac again and

I know it’s past noon. I must have been

that bitch, the secretary who looks like a

up all night, drunk.

glow-worm and has no tits either says he

I fucking hate being drunk.

left early to take the kids for dinner. I can hear the smirk in her voice.

1:00 p.m.

“Fuck you, you fucking cunt,” I tell her.

I get out of bed, slowly. Mac has emptied

“You don’t know shit about me, or my

my bottle out. Just a sip or two of wine

family, except that you have destroyed

would have cured this pounding in my

us.” Because it is her, you know. She’s

head but Mac’s a sadist with no sympa-

the reason I started this drinking non-

thy apparently. There’s nothing to drink

sense, to numb out the knowledge of

anywhere and I think maybe I can find a

their affair.

Percocet or a Vicodin in an old jacket pocket or purse somewhere but I’m not

“Mrs. Abrams, please refrain yourself

sure and I can’t really scrounge around

from the language!” She says it all

the house now because my fucking head

shocked, like a prude. But she knows, as

is pounding like Santa’s elves on meth.

do I, that she is a bitch who fucks my husband and is no prude. “Please call Mr.

Mac must have brought the girls to

Abrams with this, if he will take your call

school today.

on his cell.”

He doesn’t answer his cell and his secre-

Click. She fucking hung up on me.

tary is telling me he’s in meetings all day 15

Fuck them all. I’ll just go to the package store. My head feels pretty good now even though my heart is breaking. 7:30 p.m. They’re home. I can hear them downstairs. I want to get up and go to them, to cuddle my girls like I used to when they were small but I’m scared. What the hell has happened to me? How did I get like this, how did we get here? It’s sad, so I cry. I cry a lot and I heave a little and give it a few dramatic wails, but no one comes. I cry by myself all the time. 9:00 p.m. I still have not talked to Mac or seen him. He has stayed away from the bedroom all evening. I know the girls are sleeping. They did not come either. I’m rocked off my ass, and I don’t care anymore. 12:00 a.m. I like to be drunk. 2:00 a.m. I think maybe it’s time to finish that mural. Or write a story, or sing or something. I could play Skyrim some more, maybe. There’s a mirror in the bathroom and I look at myself for a while. I’m not certain that what I see is what I like anymore. I smash that mirror to bits and Mac comes running.

Morning- Edward Jackson You say that Morning is a second

way you may look at a homeless dog, the

chance. I disagree. Morning is a bitch,

words “pity” and “pathetic” fastened on

she shoves a dirty mirror in my hand

her tongue. My mom’s always been the

and forces me to watch things that are

type to send food back at restaurants, no

easily ignored in darkness, but painfully

matter how meager the error, and when

obvious in her glow. Ever since she no-

the telemarketers call, she speaks in a

ticed I started sleeping on the couch,

tone that’s both charming and venom-

she’s made sure to speak extra loud. I

ous, and right before she tells them some

hear her tell the dust, which dances in

variation of “fuck off”, she addresses

her rays of light through the window,

them by their first name. Morning likes

that we’re lazy, and she glares at the

to point out the irony of the woman who

dirty dishes toppled on top of each other

can build mountains out of molehills, yet

in the sink, her eyes moving up and

does nothing when men with beer bellies

down. She watches as I fidget on the

and gray hair make her feel miniscule.

couch, in anger and discomfort, as a man

After he leaves, my mom keeps her gaze

I hate leaves my mother’s bedroom. Me

fixed on the ground and takes a sip of

and Morning roll our eyes as he grunts a

cold, day old coffee, before turning

“see ya later”, and slams the screen door.

around and retreating back to her bed-

He’s fat and looks seventy even though

room. I hear Morning give a patronizing

he’s only fifty-eight, and he brags about

scoff, and I try to roll back into the

the diamond in his sagging earlobe.

leather, but no matter how deep I bury

Once, he fermented his own whiskey

my head into the cushion, her daylight

with cinnamon and tree bark and told us

still finds its way under my eyelids. An

to take a shot. It was disgusting and he

hour goes by and I decide to get away, if

looked proud. My mother giggles at this

only for a moment, by escaping to the

man who she claims doesn’t deserve her.

bathroom. My mom had to cover up the

Morning looks at my mother the same

only window in there with an old, black 17

sheet to keep the cold air from coming inside. I leave the lights off and, even in the manufactured darkness, notice that I’m still wearing last night’s makeup and clothes. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this; left traces of the past on my skin, so I can look back later. A photo album of the body. Morning knows I hate to hear it, so she continues to tell me that my mother and I aren’t so different, that we’re both in this obscure, constant pursuit of things that have already happened. While I listen to a song that reminds me of childhood on repeat, my mom eats the leftovers from her date for breakfast. While I decide to take a break from writing the essay that was due three days ago, my mom refuses to break up with a man who used to call her beautiful. You say that Morning is a second chance, and I don’t disagree. But no matter how much I beg her to postpone her rampage of the future, of sun and chirping birds, she just laughs, and shows up faithfully, day after day.

Two Cats

by: Erica Milosh

It was a beautiful August morning. The Milton household was up and buzzing at eight a.m. ready to start the day. Older brother Timothy was bouncing with excitement. “We’re really going? Like really soon?” He asked his mother. “Yes, honey, now go get dressed. Help your sister get ready, too.” She replied. Timothy raced through the house to find his sister. “Bethy, come on hurry up we’re going to Canobie Lake Park!” Beth was still in bed groggy with sleep, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. “We are?” “Yeah!” He threw a small pile of her clothes over her head and ran out of the room to get himself ready.

Beth, only seven years old, had yet to

He sat down next to her. “As I was say-

experience the thrill of a theme park.

ing, I think I’ve grown a lot since the last

She got up, shook the socks from her

time I went to Canobie. I’ll get to go way

hair, and began to dress slowly.

more rides this time.” He rubbed her head with his thumb and smiled. “I’ll tell

Timothy had gone to the park once be-

you all about it when I get home.”

fore, but had been too short for some of the rides. Now that he was ten, he was

The back door opened and Beth came

hoping to be tall enough for some of the

out still clutching her stuffed animal.

bigger rides. He went to the kitchen to

“Mommy says we’re leaving in five min-

tell his beloved cat the good news.

utes.”

“Buttons!? Buttons where are you?” He

“You’re bringing your stuffed cat?”

cried.

Timothy asked.

A small mew answered is call.

Beth looked offended. “Um yeah, Kitty has to come. She goes wherever I go.”

“There you are, Butty.” He picked up the little black cat and held her close.

“You can’t even spend five minutes

“I’m going to ride a roller coaster today.”

without that thing.”

Buttons blinked at him with wide yel-

“Hey! She has a name you know.”

low eyes.

“No fair that you can bring your Kitty

Tim’s mother was watching him from

but I can’t bring mine,” Timothy

the doorway. “You be gentle with her,

smirked.

Tim, you know she’s older than you are.”

Beth giggled. “It’s not the same, silly.

“I know mom, she is my cat after all.

Now come on, Mommy’s waiting.”

I’m always careful.” He put down But-

Timothy stood up and looked back at

tons and led her to the back door. “Come

Buttons fondly. “I’ll let you in when we

on out Butty, its nice and warm.” He

get back, Butty. It’s too nice out to stay

opened the door and the two went out to

inside today.”

the deck. The sun beat down brightly

Buttons meowed her “ok” and began to

and Buttons stretched out under the

nap.

shade of a chair. 19

The Milton family returned late that

I think that’s her. Is she sleeping?

night, tired from their exhilarating day.

Timothy walked a little further, but

Timothy checked the deck for Buttons,

soon wished he hadn’t.

but she wasn’t there. He called for her a few times before retiring to bed. He fig-

Her fur… it looks torn. Maybe she’s…

ured she’d be there for him in the morn-

Timothy couldn’t complete his thought.

ing.

He stood there frozen, unsure of what to do. He knew that it would not be wise to

Early the next day the children awoke to the smell of bacon and pancakes. Beth

get any closer to Buttons, and yet he

climbed up to the table first with Kitty in

couldn’t move away.

one hand, followed by Timothy.

“Tim! Tim! Go inside!” His mother’s normally calm voice frantically called

“Did Buttons come in yet?” He asked

from behind him.

his mom.

She ran over to him and held his face to

“No, honey, I haven’t seen her since yes-

her chest, gradually guiding him back in-

terday. Why don’t you call her?”

side the house.

Timothy slid from the table and went to

Buttons was dead.

the back door. After calling her for the second time there was still no reply.

Timothy spent the day alone in his

“I’m gunna check the back yard,” he re-

room. He cried for hours. He wasn’t at

solved.

all prepared for losing his best friend. Af-

“Okay, but be quick or your breakfast

ter his mother buried his cat, she tried ex-

will get cold.”

plaining to him that a coyote must have gotten to her. She tried telling him that

Still in his pajamas, Timothy wandered around the house to the back yard. From

these things happen, it’s the circle of life,

across the yard he saw a mass of black

and Buttons had lived a full life anyway.

fur.

But it was no use. Timothy didn’t want to hear her rationalizations and put him-

Is that her?

self to bed early that night. It was the

He took a few steps closer.

only thing he could think to do. 20

Images of Buttons filled his head. The dream was so real; she was there with him sleeping by his side like she always did. He could feel her warm dark fur against his skin. The vividness of it all caused him to open his eyes. “Buttons?” Tears began to fill Timothy’s eyes once he remembered that she wasn’t there. But something was there. He turned over to where she’d normally sleep and saw Kitty. He picked up the stuffed animal and held it to his chest. “Oh, Bethy.” He got out of bed and headed to her room. When he reached her bedside he could see that his little sister was still awake. “I never got to tell Buttons about my roller coaster ride.” “Why don’t you tell my Kitty about it?” She replied. “But Bethy, don’t you need Kitty?” She sat up. “Yes, but you need her more than me right now.” “Thank you, Bethy.”

MON - SAT: 11:30 AM - 12:00 AM SUN: 12:00 PM - 12:00 AM 21

Ryan Finnegan

Poetry

Poetry by Katelyn Parkinson ’17

Eventually Open your eyes,

Flaws He inds m r smile radi ates, e of th e war m sum mer s Her d un. They i m ples m take m irr e to th e rain or, y day puddl Her e es. yes ar They e spel make lbi me th ink of nding, moon a full harv est . Her h an Alway ds intertwi n s find ing m e, i Perfec ne. tion o nly fin ds bea uty in flaws. It rem

Keep focused, contain your thoughts Don’t have your thoughts racing Around and around they go, taunting.

Pages Crumpled letters litter the floor, Piles of paper, lay disarray.

It is the best days that get brought down. Just wake up, and get over it, right?

The Sharpener full, The erasers lay even, empty. Broken tips lead to broken hearts, Feelings impossible to scribe,

Every time I try, the fur-‐ ther I get pushed down. Keep going, everyone says, it gets better The waking up will come eventually.

Inability to communicate. Teetering on the edge, Shaky hands lead to rewriting. 23

Starting over, blank slate.

Friends For Life Olivia Harbert

We are friends I got your back You got mine I’ll help you out Anytime! To see you hurt To see you cry Makes me weep And want to die And if you agree To never fight It wouldn’t matter Who’s wrong or right If a broken heart Needs a mend I’ll be right there Till the end If your cheeks are wet From drops of tears Don’t worry Let go of your fears Hand in hand Love is sent, We’ll be friends Till the end!

Poetry by: Emily Looby Do you ever think about what is underneath it all? Peel back the skin and you'll see blood and fat and muscles and veins and capillaries and tendons and organs and, finally, bones. And when u die that's all that's left. Just bones. All the muscles and fat and skin all decompose and are gone forever and no one will ever know what you physically looked like by looking at your bones. Photo Credit: Olivia Harbert

Â But your bones tell a story. Those structures that started off so flexible and malleable and through time became brittle and weak have a story. So when you do something, do it with your whole body, with your whole being. Do it so it feels right all the way down into your bones. Feel it in your bones. That way when you die, what is left will show that you have lived.

"Come come,"

Beyond this imagery." "How can this be? You terrible hag! You just showed me what I want!"

she beckoned and called. "Come and sit with me. And I shall show you all the things You have ever hoped to see.

"But I have already told you, My dear friend, You want what you are not."

Ships in battle Wars with swords And vast countryside too. Or perhaps I will show you the ocean Deep and salty and blue. Or maybe I will teach you how to fly For I can do that too." "I wish to avoid this nonsense," You say. "Just show me what I want." "That is incredibly hard my friend For you want what you are not. Alas I see a young girl With beauty beyond compare. She has deep green eyes Alabaster skin And waves of honey hair." "She sounds a sight! When shall I meet her?" You ask so eagerly.

Ryan Finnegan

"I'm sorry friend She does not exist 26

“July 2001” Erica Milosh Remember living for the sunrise during those innocent years? Rushing out the door into the luke-warm morning Our wide eyes absorbed the potential of the day Small bare feet beating against the stones, we’d run At the end of the jetty our arms spread wide like eagles Proud faces in the wind getting sprayed by the high tide Our happiness was bigger than the sea By dusk we’d be contently weary With arms and legs lolling in the cool sand Grasping our sea shells and arcade tickets Becoming hypnotized by the fireworks splattered against the sky Our Heaven, creating explosions in our minds The deafening booms never bothered me

“I Have A Dream...”

Edward Jackson

I have a dream a lucid one in fact

My dream of a resume and six figures

I had a dream the proof is on this mac

Took me way longer than six to figure out this debt is wicked

When I was prince, no toxins, no stench

The irony is these times we have picked

And mommy was Queen never sleep on

the bench

The chocolate chips on our shoulders is

This scheme is part of the dream

sticked it's. crazy

My dream of job shattered when I saw

It's all so funny we've got dreams on our

the numbers

wish list

The shit Statistics are blundered and I

Don't blink you could miss this

was a boston bred plumber

Kings with our Misses

Father on the tube saving lives in burning buildings

Watch the security numbers we seed when we mix it

Risking his while I'm surprised why he couldn't build me

Take a pic quick cause the bricks of our projects g

My dream of superman pop kept the tears away

Cause a quick shift like assassinations polished

Overtime wages kept him and his peers away

Let us chime in while the seven figures dines in

Where is the dream now, it's reality smacking you

Practice practice this dream is like climbing

One idea grown to a billion now backing you

Our pens are the truthers we lace dreams Martin Luther

Our words our are tutors

Those burning scolded clay squares where the prophets

Obsessed with the suitors

Make up all of our play here

U.s government has already been convicted as the shooter

Achieving the dream is saving the queen in the fire even when she stays there

But we wouldn't know that unless we researched

No such thing as life playing fair

Martin taught me to strive for the re-

A gasp of fresh air sweet as the dream

spect that we all deserve

turned goal

Until we all eat dessert off an ebony ta-

Achieved from the steps we made to earn

ble so stable listening to the nations re-

gold

verb

Pop and mom dreams

Back to that dream tho... Those burning

Sister and bro dreams

project buildings, I ash them Into my tray, mold it like clay, add the tears of

Independent dream

our mothers and fathers to this day.

Give in and go dream

Make something new, a business, a library or two. Filled with new systems

Wake up now and achieve what you

that entice us all, classes call, and stu-

dreamed of

dents walk around to hallways like

Everyday my vision board reminds me of

malls.

what my dream does

Ebony bookcases, and ivory journals,

Don't lose that spark, it's embedded

Kendrick and jazz played in the back-

deep in your heart, in our blood and our

ground rooms purple. Not all of them

iron

but a few. This lucid dream with Mal-

And our future isn't stark

colm and Martin and Marquice is all for

Before we depart in the freezing box or

you.

in burning ashes

Let's pave with those bricks from our pro-

Or blasted by a fraction of a bullet

jects 29

Let us remember what woke us up today, what's on our minds before we sleep and play In a flash we could have the cake Do we have what it takes We have so now let's make

The Twins Irving Eggleston

Life in the city

Waiting on my family to reassemble like transformers

Is just life in the city

Hoping that my mom would be alright

Nobody care if you hungry

I mean if they never turned the corner

Dudes is trife in city

Just thinking bout this shit brings me to

But there's a part of the city where peo-

the worst place

ple can get gritty

Could you believe that this happened a

And ima take you there I just hope you

few blocks from my birth place

can rock wit me

And everybody from my block waiting

Smith projects 2001 I was just 7 waiting

on calls

on my mom to come pick me up from class

Some came sooner later while others never got through

Watching burnt paper fall from the sky like snow flakes

Luckily my family came through like prancers

While mom tryin hard to keep a straight face

Ain't it weird that I lived through this tragedy

Death in the air I can smell it now

And when I talk about it this shit

Well I guess it's easy to tell when there's blood on the ground

I think it never bothers me ?

And everybody that you love is all scat-

Maybe its because feelings never fa-

tered around

thered me

Dark sut covering the sky like hells gates

I mean my father never fathered me so it couldn't be hard to see

Watching on the news

Bcuz I think we all know now

Evil portrayed in the worst way 31

Why September 11th still bothers me !!

Poetry By Jessica Frank’ 16

Much too late:

It sat on someone's table, not yet in a vase. But a single drop of tear-shaped blood,

I’ve always loved that

suspended from the stem

dear rose

Was all that was left to show for the pain

The one that sits blooming on the bush.

the rose endured alone.

Every morning as the sun would rise it

How I wished to beg, to grovel and plead

would open it's beautiful petals,

to see my little rose.

and bless the world with beauty until night.

But the sun was not up, the world still asleep,

But I didn't save that rose,

the earth encased in dark.

when I had the chance.

And the rose I loved more dearly than

I couldn't see the garden sheers getting

myself

too close,

was closed and shut up tight.

reaching out for my rose.

It was much too little and much too late

I didn't see the petal at my feet,

to wonder in the night

sent to sound the alarm.

That if morning came, and the sun cast

I abandoned that little rose,

its light,

left it on its own.

would my rose still be the same?

And too little too late did I find the note, the cry for help it gave. 32

A Rose in the Glass:

A yelp escapes your lips as the thorns you didn't see bite into your palm. The rose falls, bouncing lightly on the marble stand, unscathed. You look again at the rose as a drop of blood dews on the pad of your hand and see your mistake.

A rose sits behind glass, pristine and

The rose always knew what it was, and

beautiful.

showed you, but your eyes, blinded by as-

Should you take it? What harm could

sumptions and selfishness, didn't think

come of plucking at a rose? They are

of the rose, only of what you wanted, and

meant for the enjoyment of others,

the rose, seemingly delicate and fragile,

right?

fought back against your superficiality.

Silently, like a theif in the night, you lift

Maybe next time you'll think twice when

the glass, never asking, for can a rose

you look at a rose.

give permission? The rose stands, soft petals open to your outstretched hand. Hastily you snatch the rose from it's stand. It's a rose. Put it in a vase and keep it until it withers, then throw it away, that's how it goes. Roses are made to use and discard. A rose knows it's duty; look pretty and smell nice until all appeal is gone, then die. Your hand closes around the stem, your eyes trained on the delicate blooming bud. 33

Non-Fiction Writing

Matthew Pochel

The ‘Guy’ in the Glass Paul Craig

Many of us have heard the famous poem titled “The Guy in the Glass” written by Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr. He talks about how people think they can fool the whole world down the pathway of years, but what they don’t realize is that you can't fool the guy staring back from the mirror. This means no matter the situation whether it be good or bad, nobody knows the real you besides you. Also nobody can cheat the real you besides you. People cheat themselves every day. We are all human and we all have imperfections but the ones who accept their imperfections and live with them are the people that make the world feel like the great place that it can be. A lot of people have a hard time accepting their imperfections. They need multiple coping techniques to get them through life. Drugs and alcohol are the most popular coping techniques in society. The bad part about that is, people are growing more and more attached to these substances which lead them into being a person they are not; a fake. I like to think of drugs and alcohol as aids. Aids are strategies humans use in order to help them get through something. Aids may make the individual do things they normally wouldn’t do in their correct state of mind. There are pros and cons to using aids. Negative side effects can be actions such as being disrespectful towards someone, fighting, or verbal/nonverbal abuse. Positive side effects may allow the individual to have more confidence within their own self. That statement forces me to tie back in the concept of “The Guy in the Glass.” Many people use these aids because they have yet to discover their true self. People are not satisfied with their sober self and feel they are not progressing like they should. Why is it that young men are incapable of approaching a female in the classroom but have no problem approaching that same female on a Thursday night? Why is this individual uncomfortable in their correct state of mind? 35

I asked a freshman the other weekend if

We see music videos and hear song lyrics

they were drinking tonight. They replied,

of young people abusing drugs and alco-

“No, I don’t drink. Well, at least not for

hol. As a young man, it may look like the

the rest of this year. I observe how other

right life for you -- easy, fun, and very

people act and I don’t feel I am mature

carefree. But what happens when the

enough to drink.” I replied, “Well, that

high wears off? What happens when the

was a pretty mature answer.” It amazes

hangover is cured? Do we go back to liv-

me that an eighteen year old is in love

ing the carefree life? I don’t know,

with their true self more than their intoxi-

maybe. Or do we grow up and realize

cated self. That is rare to come across

that one day none of that stuff is going to

these days due to the fact that society has

matter anymore. The only things that

given humans permission to lose them-

will are your body, your mind, and soul.

selves.

Once people understand that, the guy in the glass will reveal.

The Lost Wallet

Written by: Katarina Floridia

My parents never understood the important role that money plays in my life. When I was nine, I would earn money in many different ways. I did not have chores like most kids, but I had five lazy older sisters. We lived in a three story house with a basement. My older sister’s bedrooms were on the third floor. When I was not planning ways to scare them, I would cater to them because I would never say no to an opportunity to make money. They would ask me to do things -- clean, wash their car, or get their laundry from the basement. It was easy money and I believe this is where I started my savings habit. By the time I turned ten years old in 2002 I had two-hundred dollars saved up. I did not spend a dime of it because most of the time my parents did not know my sisters paid me to do things. I had a Men in Black rubber wallet that was black on the outside and lime green in the inside. Every year my mother would take my two-years-older sister Stephanie and I with her to go Christmas shopping at the Natick Mall. We never failed to go shopping on Christmas Eve because at this time stores would stay open later. This year I had money to spend, so I took my Men in Black wallet with my twohundred dollars. We would stay at the mall until they closed; walking around, purchasing gifts, and eating at Friendly’s. We had bought so many gifts that Stephanie and I would have to help my mother carry all the shopping bags. So I put my wallet in the white bag, which had my sister Megan’s gift in it. When we got back home, Stephanie and I went to bed, while my mother stayed up all night wrapping our gifts. The thought of my wallet never crossed my mind until after Christmas. However, I was unable to find it anywhere. I always thought my sister Megan had it. My mom forgot to wrap her gift that was in the bag that I carried. Megan took it on her way out on Christmas and I never heard anything about her finding a wallet. I still wonder today if she had found it, but just kept it for herself. I did not want to question her because I just went with the fact that she took it or somehow it found its way out of my 37

bag in the Natick Mall. All I knew is that

the stone house. When we lived in the

my two yearsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; worth of savings was lost.

Granada Apartments, my parents struggled with everyday bills and their car pay-

I could not get myself to save money

ments. There was not one day that went

again until 2006 because I was too

by that my father was not on the phone

afraid of losing it. I never bought a wallet

with Liberty Mutual, begging for a late

and the little money I collected from my

payment extension. My parents always

birthdays I kept in a box in my bedroom.

thought that Stephanie and I were oblivi-

This time I made sure my money never

ous to their financial burden. However,

saw the light of day. This was the same

living in a 1,100 square foot apartment

year my family began to become finan-

makes it difficult to keep secrets.

cially unstable. I found myself in an apartment building because my mother

Watching my teenage years fall apart

blew all the money we got from selling

and my parents depressed through this

the stone house on prescription drugs

hardship made me think back to my two

and QVC. I watched my family go from a

hundred dollars that I once had. At this

three story house to a small apartment,

time I really experienced and realized

where we had to be on food stamps for a

the true value of a dollar. Therefore,

short period of time.

whatever money I could get my hands on whether it was change or cash, I would

When I was waiting by myself in the car

make sure to stash it away in my room.

one day, I found copies of checks in the

When I finally reached five hundred dol-

glove compartment from my older sis-

lars, I became afraid someone would try

ters that were made out to my father for

to take it from me or I would lose it. So I

rent. I also experienced the uncanny feel-

finally went to Bank of America to open

ing of an eviction sign on the front door

up a checking and savings account. See-

for my parents. The only break we got

ing my parents struggle for ten long

came from my father being a veteran be-

years helped me realize the importance

cause that allowed us to go to the top of

of saving money. In a strange way, it got

the list for assisted living.

me motivated to save money, find a job,

Before tragedy struck my family, my par-

and not spend a dime.

ents used to have exceptional credit.

I ended up separating my life from every-

However, that died quickly after selling

one else to become more independent. I 38

wanted to show my parents that I was

It was not that I was selfish, but the fact

more financially responsible than them.

that at such a young age I felt as though I

My fear is running out or just not having

had to be the financial provider. The

enough like my family. Teachers at Fram-

money I was saving was going towards

ingham High always said that I would

college and every time I kept spending or

probably work in a bank one day. That

lending money my bank accounts would

the way I finance money was unique and

dwindle. In August of 2010, I remember

I was always trusted to handle the

my father telling me at the dining room

money at school events. I wish I listened

table that he did not have the money for

to my teachers and even my mother who

me to go to college. As much as I knew

said I was good at handling money.

this was going to happen, I believed him, when he said he would have the money.

Stephanie worked part-time at a day

Three weeks before I had to pay my bill

care center, but she was never able to get

to Nichols, my father told me that I

into the habit of saving money. There-

would not be able to go to college.

fore when money problems came up, my mother would always try to guilt me into

I cried and my mother told my father,

loaning her money. I always stood my

â&#x20AC;&#x153;See, you should have told her earlier. I

ground and denied lending her money

told you not to keep it from her.â&#x20AC;? At this

because I knew it would start a ripple ef-

moment not only was I mad that he told

fect. Although one time, my mother fi-

me last minute, but I was upset with my-

nally convinced me to lend her three-

self for lending the three-hundred dol-

hundred dollars for her car payment,

lars to my mother. The worst part is that

which I never saw again. She gave me a

he told me the same day that I ordered a

half hour long story that if she could not

two-hundred and fifty dollar bed set.

make the payment her car would be re-

This is where I realized that it was like

possessed. For this reason, I just threw

losing my Men in Black wallet all over

in my white flag because she promised to

again. Everything that I worked to save

pay me back. I also did not want to hear

up for would be taken from me again.

another speech from my parents, about

I saved every cent I could and worked

how I am selfish and that I should not

multiple jobs until I got back every dime

want to help out my family.

I spent my freshmen year at Nichols. I created this mentality that everything is 39

an expense and every cent spent I have to work ten times harder to get back, so my bank account is always increasing. In a sense, I have become a workaholic throughout the years because money is my security blanket. If I am not working and making money, I lose a sense of who I am. It is like an addiction. I fear not having enough and I know the consequences that can happen from watching my parents. Even today, where my parents have money now, I still fear the fact that I might become them one day. Money defines my way of life and it may be a sickness, but I do not know what I would do without it. There is no way for me to express the importance and the fear I have in regards to money. Every time I try and save money, it always seems to disappear. That is why I do not spend money unless it is on necessity because what I have learned is that you never know when there will be an emergency. Losing my Men in Black wallet may have been the single best thing that has happened in my life. I still wonder what happened to it, but in the end losing it taught me a valuable lesson -- that money holds not only value, but great power and responsibility in our society today.

Culture & Arts

Matthew Pochel

Inside the Book: The Perks of Being a Wallflower

“Even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.”

writes letters to an unknown person for the entire book, letting it all out and seeking advice from this unknown recipient. The letters tell his story over the course of a year with all thoughts, feelings, and musings told in a slightly funny style, very easy to identify with. Charlie is shy, unpopular, and highly intelligent. When he starts ninth-grade at a suburban high school in Pittsburgh he is befriended by Patrick, a senior, and his sister Sam. He begins to feel comfortable but Charlie is still struggling.

I think I may have writ-

Plagued with flashbacks of

ten Perks of Being a

his Aunt Helen dying, Charlie

Wallflower when I was

becomes further depressed

sleeping. Every writer

when everything he thought

dreams of writing some-

he knew and felt crumbles. As

thing this good. I could not put this book

the year goes on, Charlie becomes more

down and was flooded with emotion at

and more withdrawn, writing letters

times. This is exactly the type of novel

rather than dealing with life directly. The

loved for being poignant and well written

reader becomes absorbed in Charlie’s

while easy to read. Written by Stephen

world. As he comes to terms with his

Chbosky, Perks is part of a series of

past you cannot help but feel over-

books published by MTV.

whelmed (in a good way) by Charlie’s

Perks of Being a Walflower is written

story.

from the point of a messed up kid, a

Perks of Being a Wallflower is one of

fifteen-year-old boy named Charlie. He

those books you absolutely need to read. 42

though. Adele speaks very candidly to

Sass And Success

the press about her personal life, as well as in her music. Cross this diva the wrong way and she will retaliate with a hit song. The radio hit “Rumor has it” came from the singer’s frustration of a few friends believing some ridiculous stories they read in a gossip magazine. All of Adele’s songs come from similar “cathartic” studio sessions. Whatever her

Stacie Converse work ethic is, it works. She has a voice comparable to the likes

It is no surprise Adele brought her rock

of Whitney Houston and Aretha Frank-

and roll attitude to the recording studio.

lin. As a lyricist, she is compared to

She smoked and drank her way through

Carole King. Her studio personality

most sessions. She also didn’t believe in

matches the working style of Johnny

‘Do-Re-Mi’. Adele’s version of warming

Cash. Yet, there is no doubt that Adele is

up was talking, laughing, and cackling.

one of a kind. In the 2012 edition of

But don’t let this laid back routine fool

“Women Who Rock” in The Rolling

you. When Adele gets down to business,

Stone, David Browne gives us a behind

she won’t settle for anything less than

the scenes insight of the character, ca-

perfection. Adele’s talent and skill

reer, and success of this sassy soulstress.

landed her a record deal with XL Records. She signed onto the label in 2006.

Adele’s standout voice is matched by an

Despite this recognition, Adele is not one

even more notable attitude. Fame and

for mainstream. She knows exactly what

fortune gets wiped off the shoulders of

she wants and how she wants it. She will

Adele’s badass personality. She grew up

let her producers play around with a

in a troubled home after her father left

song only to strip it down again to opt

when she was three. Despite her success

for the rawer version. She takes pride in

as an artist, Adele is still the same

the fact that all of her songs are written

strong-headed girl her mother raised her

and produced from emotion. She was

to be. There is no shame in her game, 43

adamant that “Someone Like You,” featured on the album 21, was untouched by producers. Although reluctant at first, the producers came to find out Adele knows best. 21 has sold more than 9.7 million copies. At the end of the year, it will most likely hit 10 million. Only about one hundred other albums have done this. The album also won six Grammy’s, including Album, Record, and Song of the Year. Adele’s career and popularity skyrocketed, but not even this changed the down to earth diva. She refuses to be a sellout. She turns down all offers for sponsors or lucrative gigs. When performing a show, she simply stands and sings – no auto-tune, no choreography. Take it or leave it, she’ll bring the talent.

Samuel Johnson: A Man for All

Almost two hundred thirty years ago, the world lost Dr. Johnson, as Samuel Johnson was known, a man of all seasons. Johnson was not only a British writer who made lasting contributions to English literature as a poet, essayist, moralist, literary critic and biographer; he was also an editor and lexicographer extraordinaire. But he has always been remembered, with the help of his biographer James Boswell, for greatness of spirit, mind, character, conduct, and art. Such is his great magnanimity, his piety and eloquence, so overwhelmingly obvious and affecting to those who know his writings, that it is with some difficulty that I write

about him, as opposed to quoting from him. Although English is not my first language, I have tremendous respect and admiration for Johnson, probably passed on to me by one of my favorite professors in graduate school at Boston University, Dr. Aeschliman. I am not sure if there has been any critic after Aristotle that has carried more weight than Johnson, and I would be inclined to apply to Johnson himself the description that he gave to Sir Thomas More: “the person of the greatest virtue these islands ever produced.” Cardinal Newman recognized 44

Johnson’s “great vigor and recourse of

age is a masterpiece and a sort of literary

intellect” united with “a rare common

declaration of independence.

sense and a conscientious regard for ve-

One only needs to read a few of John-

racity.” G. K. Chesterton used to say that

son’s work to realize that he could have

Johnson was immortal because he

had no idea of the political enormities

“judged all things with a gigantic and de-

and nightmares that lay in the future, in

tached common sense.” C.S. Lewis went

the much heralded “age of progress and

as far as to maintain that there are three

rationality” foretold by French philoso-

great, inimitable, unique, authoritative

phers of the likes of Voltaire and Rous-

voices in the history of Western moral

seau, whom Johnson so despised for

culture, which everyone deeply ac-

their impiety and hardheadedness.

quainted with it thinks he knows: those

While the works of authors such as

of Socrates, Jesus, and Johnson.

Dostoyevsky and Kafka speak to a later

Johnson's character in early childhood,

world unknown to Johnson, his insights

however, is striking. Not only was he so

on the matters of morals and virtues go

determined as a child that he persisted,

deeper, for this reader, than theirs, per-

or so the story goes, in attending church

haps due to his profound Christian

on his father's shoulders, he was likewise

views. A writer as unsentimental and

so self-assertive, particularly perhaps

without illusion as they, Johnson at the

with women, that he actually beat his

same time maintains that our deepest

school teacher for following him protec-

and most important struggles are usually

tively at a distance. Johnson was, never-

not with our environment or our fellows,

theless, an exceptionally intelligent and

but with ourselves.

gifted man but surprisingly enough an

To this end, Johnson unflinchingly faced

uncouth character who had bad manners

the unknown daily, but with none of the

and an unsightly personal appearance.

emotional masochism, self-

Nonetheless, he was especially admira-

dramatization, and self-pity that are char-

ble because he was the first English

acteristic of today’s romantic and mod-

author to make a living entirely from his

ern tempers. For him, “the business of a

own writing rather than being subsidized

wise man is to be happy.” He wished and

by any patron. His "Letter to Lord Ches-

worked to be happy--despite crippling

terfield" rejecting Chesterfield's patron-

disabilities, disadvantages, hardships, 45

and setbacks--and to make others happy.

ther weakly credulous nor wantonly skep-

He saw in loving God and serving his fel-

tical. His open heart toward the poor

lows the right way to accomplish these

and needy was also commendable, as he

ends. Johnson may very well have pre-

frequently gave to beggars in the street,

pared, unknowingly, the way for the

and once told Boswell, "A decent provi-

great ethical Victorians, as he hated slav-

sion for the poor is the true test of civili-

ery, imperialism, superficiality, amoral-

zation.”.

ity, and egotism.

Johnson may fairly be called the great

His call for perseverance in all we do is

champion of the obvious, as to him, the

striking and inspiring, as for him few

great truths are, above all, public, avail-

things are impossible when engaged

able equally to all “reflective” persons.

with diligence and skill. For him, men's

But life is more than a matter of mind

ambition is, generally, proportioned to

and spirit, and Johnson knew it, as he

their capacity since he believed that

wrote that “to write and to live are very

providence seldom sends any into the

different. Many who praise virtue do no

world with an inclination to attempt

more than praise it.”

great things who have not abilities, like-

Indeed, when reading Johnson, it is like

wise, to perform them. Hence, he went

he is living and sharing a common pos-

on to say that all the performances of hu-

session that, because of him, we now see

man art, at which we look with praise or

as anything but common, as if he is

wonder, are instances of the resistless

breaking bread with us in which much

force of perseverance.

more than bread’s seeming ordinariness

How hard would it have been for Dr.

is given and received.

Johnson to live in our days, as he

Genius, not only as a state of mind, but

dreaded instances when society would

as a condition of the spirit and vocation

dissolve into a tumult of individuals,

to be lived, has no greater example than

without authority to command or obliga-

Dr. Samuel Johnson, a man of all sea-

tion to obey, where only power and appe-

sons.

tite reigned? Instead, he loved descent,

~ Professor Marcus Goncalves

godly order and the questioning life of the mind, as his rational, orthodox, Christian theism was based on a faith nei46

Why the World Should Love Miley Cyrus

way. Miley Cyrus is one of those future leaders of our generation, showing that people can choose to be who they want. By doing these crazy ideas, she wants people to realize you should be who you are and not fear what others have to say. She isn’t saying that everyone should sit on a wrecking ball or for everyone to twerk on stage at the VMA’s but to go af-

Of course many of you may be think-

ter what dream someone is chasing or a

ing why should anyone respect or even

career that they want to have. No one

love a weird ex country girl that may

else has ever considered

have gone “coo coo”

taking such risks as big as

and sat naked on a

Miley and in life some-

wrecking ball. Well to

times you have to take

answer that question,

them to get where you

she was the first one

want to be. So maybe her

to do it. No one else

style isn’t like traditional

has ever considered

music, but what is tradi-

ever being that differ-

tional anymore? If all mu-

ent or free before.

sic was the same, then no

How come we give

one would be different and

credit to people who

certainly no one would be able to be in-

do things for the first time in history but

spired to do anything. Miley Cyrus is a

when it’s Miley Cyrus, it is discredited

great inspirational leader that isn’t

and abnormal. This is completely unfair.

afraid to love or be who she wants to be.

Although it may be hard to believe, but

Yes, maybe this is a new stage for her af-

when you put the weird and craziness

ter being Hannah Montana, but don’t we

aside, there is a deeper message that

all go into different stages? She is show-

Miley is trying to bring to the world. Its

ing people that you don’t have to be one

to be yourself and to love who you are.

thing forever. For me, this is even more

That everyone has something to offer or

inspirational since I am in college. When

that everyone is original in their own

you first start out in your freshman year, 47

you almost feel like you are forced to choose a major and ultimately a career that you will have to be in for the rest of your life. As usual adults are telling you other wise that this is false, it certainly doesn’t seem like it. Sometimes you can’t always look at schools or professionals for help when musicians or artists as crazy as they may seem, usually have the real answer. Whatever Miley Cyrus does is completely controversial but in the end, didn’t we all trust Hannah Montana

My first initial thought on the movie Divergent,

growing up? Didn’t we look to her in music to help us in time of need with her ever-relatable songs? Well she is still the same person and although people may think that I am absolutely crazy for being

was to not expect anything too big. Upon

such a huge fan and admirer, I have

going to the premiere for the movie

trusted her in the very beginning and I

(which is now 8’oclock instead of mid-

will continue to until the very end.

night) the theater was quite empty. Maybe everyone else thought that it was not going to be worth it to see it when it first came out. After fearing a long line at the door, we slipped in with one person ahead of us and sat down. Before the movie even started, not even half of the theater was filled. However, after years of previews and two hours later, I was absolutely wrong. Next to The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, Divergent may have been one of those movies that were closest to the book. In Divergent, teenagers must choose to either leave their own 48

faction or decide to stay in it. The five fac-

world they pictured coming to life, and

tions include: Amity (peaceful), Candor

the non-Divergent readers will develop

(honest), Dauntless (brave), and Erudite

crushes on at least one or ten members.

(intelligent). When Beatrice leaves Abne-

Definitely you should watch it!

gation for a new home and life in Dauntless, she is forced to hide that she doesn’t belong to any faction and that she is Divergent. When one is Divergent, no tests that the Government issues works on you and you are considered a rebel to them. Divergents are feared, hunted…killed. Seeing Veronica Roth’s story come to the big screen definitely did her book justice. Not only was the story line done well but the acting too. Shailene Woodley, an actress whose past dealt with teen pregnancies and drama in the show The Secret Life of the American Teenager, played Beatrice Prior, or

For over a year now,

“Tris”. Other big names include Theo James, who plays Four, one of the leaders of Dauntless and Tris’s love interest.

I wanted to see Oz The great and Power-

Shailene and Theo-- they have so much

ful (2013), a prequel to the movie, The

chemistry. Its like they were meant for

wizard of Oz (1939). Usually when it

each other. They are so heated every mo-

comes to prequels, I enjoy watching

ment that they touch. The amazing Kate

them to see how my favorite character

Winslet who plays the evil Erudite leader

got to the place they are now especially

Jeanine Matthews. Overall, the experi-

in this case since The Wizard of Oz was

ence with Divergent was positive. It

released 74 years ago. People that were

moves at a good pace, the cast is good

born around the 1930’s and 40’s or any-

looking and the raw power by director

one else that grew up watching The Wiz-

Neil Burger was very hard to be dupli-

ard of Oz, will finally have the chance to

cated. Readers will enjoy seeing the

be able to see how the story line first 49

started and why the wizard and witches

tor of The Wizard of Oz by making them

were the way they were in the 1939 film.

absolutely sick.

However, if you are a fan of The Wizard of Oz and havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t already seen this new prequel, donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t. You will be utterly disappointed in the movie and how little justice it did for the original story line. Almost every aspect of the movie was a major disappointment whether it was the visual effects, the cheesy story line or the stupid humor that screenwriters had forced major actors such as James Franco and Mila Kunis to repeat on screen. As usual Mila Kunis always deliv-

Sunday-- Wednesday 10am-11pm Thursday-- Saturday 10am-12am

ers her parts well and was one redeeming quality of this pitiful film. Throughout the entire movie, everything that happened was completely irrelevant to the story line of the original movie. The last twenty minutes of the film that ultimately turned the witch green and the massive battle scene that took place brought relevancy and interest into the original story line of the 1939 film. It is absolutely shameful that screenwriters, producers, or even the director, Sam Raimi, would even think that this could be a potential movie to do anything justice. In my opinion, these major actors will forever have an ugly blemish on their resumes. In the end, the only one that should be turning green is the crea50

Gogh

Vincent Van

thing we all feel comfortable with. The sky keeps my eyes moving about the painting, following the curves. Below the hills of the horizon is a small town, a

is one of my favorite artists. It was be-

peaceful essence flowing from the build-

lieved that Van Gogh actually hated sun-

ings. The cool dark colors and the win-

flowers and that he painted them be-

dows spark memories of my childhood

cause of the vibrant colors. In “The Sun-

years with imagination and knowledge of

flowers”, when you look at this painting,

what happens at night and in the dark

you can see the flow. The colors are vi-

starry skies. The center of the town is a

brant and show emotions to go with the

church, creating a sense of stability and

life of sunflowers. Bright yellows of liv-

sense of size and aloneness. This is mag-

ing bloom and browns of wiling and

nificent when compared to the other ob-

death bring the sunflowers to life. I think

jects in the painting. The curving lines

that is why I am so intrigued when I look

mirror the sky and create depth in the

at the painting because of the opposites

painting. It’s amazing!

and the technique that he used to make them. It is fascinating to see all angles of

In both of these paintings Van Gogh

life and reaching a deeper understanding

uses colors that are bright and dark to

of how all-living things are tied together.

emphasize different parts of the painting. This is ability is why I absolutely

Now, a comparison of this would be

love Vincent van Gogh and his painting.

“Starry Night”, one of the most well

~ Olivia Harber ’17

known images in culture. There are many aspects that intrigued me when I viewed this image. The starry night sky filled with clouds, stars with their own light, and a bright moon. Each image is something we can all relate to, some51

Winners of the Divergent Essay Contest: 1st place – Cassandra Rudd 2nd place – Stephen Chlapowski 3rd place – Jessica Frank

From Struggle Comes Strength: The Connection Between Inner Strength and Conflict in Divergent * Cassandra Rudd ’17 In her dystopian novel, Divergent, Veronica Roth illustrates the idea that conflict can bring out a person’s innermost strength and determination, through the two protagonist characters of Tris and Tobias. The rise of strength and willpower is most strongly shown in the climax of the novel, where Roth uses imagery and sensory diction to build up the intensity in the climax. As these characters encounter the start of a civil war amongst the factions of their society, they are driven to the task of rescuing their society and the people in it from doing involuntary battle. At this point in the novel, Tris and Tobias are forced into very intense and desperate situations, leading them to dig deep within to find power and determination they did not even know existed. In the climax of the novel, Tris fights her way to the Dauntless headquarters to stop the simulation enforced by Jeanine, the Erudite leader. Tris has just become an orphan, after watching both of her parents be murdered in front of her: “I want to rest my head on the ground and let that be the end of it. I want to sleep now and never awake. But, what I said to my father before was right—for every second that I waste, another Abnegation member dies. There is only one thing left for me in the world now, and it is to destroy the simulation” (472). Once she reaches Tobias in the control room, Tris faces two different conflicts, one between herself and a man who has become a drug-induced killer and the second, trying to save the man she loves from being under the control of the simulation. As she tries to solve this cognitive dissonance, the situation escalates; Tris and Tobias get into a physical altercation. As Tris begins to lose the battle she feels as though her only option is for either herself or Tobias to die. “But I just know, I know what the right thing to do is. My father says-used to say-that there is power in self-sacrifice. I turn the gun in my hands and press it into Tobias’s palm” (475-476). In the ultimate display of strength, Tris decides to commit the ultimate self-sacrifice of giving up her life, in order to spare Tobias’s. “He pushes the barrel into my forehead. My tears have stopped and the air feels cold as it touches my cheeks” (476). Roth’s use of imagery 54

and targeting the senses in her descriptions impacts the way the reader feels while reading the passage. These scenes in particular are full of imagery and allow the reader to more clearly understand the immense stress that Tris is under because of her introspective thoughts accompanied by the imagery in the scene. The intensity of the conflict that Tris is facing is tangible because of Roth’s use of description. The continual conflict that Tris faces brings forth her innermost strength. She must pull from within herself and force herself to accomplish tasks under difficult circumstances, she must face the fear of death and the death of loved ones, and she must commit murder, all under the confusion of the drastic changes around her. As she continually faces more and more stressful and painful events she continues to move toward her goal of ending the simulation. Tris’s emotional endurance builds as the novel comes to an end. This passage in the novel is very powerful, carrying with it a rollercoaster of emotions: fear, pain, sadness, anger, relief, and hope. Tris encounters many difficult situations throughout the novel; however, her strength and determination is clearly on display in the climax of the novel, where she continues to overcome what seem like impossible situations. The pace of the novel leading up to this passage is very quick. At the point of the gun being pointed at Tris’s head, the pace slows a great deal. Roth makes the reader feel as though they are in Tris’s situation and are indeed facing death. This pace allows the emotion of the situation to overwhelm the reader as the situation is filled with suspense, which is also the feeling that Roth imposes on Tris. Tobias, the male protagonist, faces conflict in the climax of the novel, even if it is mostly out of his control. In this particular passage of the novel, Tobias has just been captured after being unable to escape from the Dauntless soldiers and revealing that he is Divergent. Upon the orders of Jeanine, Tobias is forcefully injected with a special simulation solution made for Divergents, forcing her will upon him. Upon Tris’s arrival at the control room, an altercation between the two of them ensues. Not knowing who Tris is, Tobias continually beats her, leading to a life or death situation, and a gun in Tobias’s hands pointed directly at Tris. “The shot doesn’t come. He stares at me with the same ferocity but doesn’t move. Why doesn’t he shoot me? His heart pounds against my palm, and my own heart lifts. He is Divergent. He can fight this simulation. Any simulation” (477). Tris continually begs and begs for Tobias to see her as her true self, out of complete desperation. 55

As Tobias begins to fight the simulation coursing through his veins, he is essentially fighting within himself to control his own will. ‘“How did you do it?’ I say. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I just heard your voice’” (478). In the midst of this great conflict, Tobias finds the strength within himself, even under the control of the simulation to control his own mind and body once again. His determination and the connection between himself and Tris, strengthen his resolve. Roth’s use of sensory description by Tris and visual imagery shows the determination that Tobias has within to fight the simulation. The description of Tobias’s rapidly beating heart, shaking body and the fact that “his neck [is] slick with sweat” (478), illustrate in physical form Tobias’s will power to overcome the simulation and the physical war he was waging within himself to gain control of his mind and body. In Veronica Roth’s novel Divergent, her resilient protagonist characters, Tris and Tobias, face life altering decisions and heartbreaking realities. As the conflict in the climax of the novel becomes more and more oppressive on these characters, they only seem to grow stronger and become more determined to make it through the horror of what their lives are becoming. This passage is full of intense and powerful action and emotion which is only highlighted by Roth’s use of sensory imagery and pace change. It is an impactful buildup of the tumultuous relationship between the factions and the emotional connections between Tris her loved ones. This passage reflects the idea shown throughout the novel of discovering one’s inner strength and determination when it is needed most. Finding the inner strength to fight or think through a conflict until is it resolved is a skill that we all as humans possess, just waiting below the surface to be unleashed.

Excerpts from the runners up!

In short, there are several comparisons that can be made between the college experience and Beatrice’s experiences in the story. The thing is, maybe Roth never intended for Divergent to be compared to college. While all of the similarities and evidence between college and Divergent support the theory that Divergent is a metaphor for college, no one can ever get in the mind of Roth and know for certain. For all anyone knows, Roth intended Divergent to be a metaphor for summer camp. This leads everyone to garner their own interpretations of Divergent. Thus at the end of it all we’re left with but one question. If Divergent is not a metaphor for college, then what is it a metaphor for?

Stephen Chlapowski ’17

Yes, there are people who will be more blunt honest than others and there are those who could spend their lifetime learning and still not know enough to satisfy themselves, but as Tris discovers in the novel and as life proves in reality, it is impossible for us all to be the same. Things like compassion, empathy, gumption, and individual thought process are present in each of us at varying levels and we shouldn’t be ashamed to show off what makes us different. It might feel uncomfortable to share your oddball hobby or passion, but it should all be remembered that everyone has one little thing that doesn’t fit the uniform image and that thing is what makes us each so special. We are all Divergent. 57

Jessica Frank ’16

Photography 58

Ryan Finnegan â&#x20AC;&#x2122;14

Ryan Finnegan ’14

Darien Parmenter ’17

Grace Murphy

Matthew Pochel ’17

Christina Barrows ’17

Julia Zawacki ’17

Matthew Pochel

Nicole Boyle ’17

Matthew Pochel ’17

Taylor Brown ’15