December 2010

We have a Tumblr!

Feel free to check it out!

racingminds.tumblr.com Remember Lauren Kristin? She was the winner of the Snapshot Contest in the November Issue! We’re doing the contest again! If you are interested in submitting, please email caitlinconnery@msn.com with your name and a photo of you in your most fashion-forward outfit! A team of judges will decide the top three, and they’ll appear in the January issue to be voted on. The winner will have a full feature and interview in the February issue.

Please submit!

We’d love to hear from you!

Remember, you are free to submit your own work! Or even suggest a friend’s work, or just someone that you think deserves to be recognized!

Racing Minds loves to get emails, so don’t be shy!

And dont forget, we are always accepting submissions!

Attention!

Next month, we want to featured many different people! For this, we will need a single photo, your name, age, location, and website link, as well as a short paragraph (three to four sentences) about yourself. Also, answer “Why do you create?” Email all of these to racingminds@yahoo. com with the subject title we create, otherwise you will not be featured. A limited number of spots are offered, so please submit soon!

Please email racingminds@yahoo.com with any questions, submissions, or suggestions!

Dear Readers, Recently I was reminded (in an unfortunate way): Live today like you will die tomorrow.

Ready, set, go.

-Rachael

Photo // Tascha Elliott

Behind the Scenes Creator // Sarah Nieman Staff // Caitlin Angelica Caiti Borruso Kayla Deines Rachael Hyde Maria Kaffa Alex Phillips Jordan Tiberio Elizabeth Turner

Features // Jodie Andrews Chelsey Fulbright Jessica Polar Amelia Oakley Matt Holmes Zoe Byun Scott W. H. Young Kylie Petrie Kelsey Skordal Karisa Ann Lamle Samantha Patterson Kayla Deines Hannah Conti Johnathan Roberts

08. What defines hom

10. Her Morning Eleg

-Photographs By Rachae

18. Art 20. Kelsey Skordal

24. Miekala Cangelosi 30. Writing

What’s Inside

me?

32. Karisa Ann Lamle

52. Jessica Polar

82. More

gance

34. Samantha Patterson

54. Amelia Oakley

84. Their Favorites

36. Kayla Deines

58. Runaways

86. Hannah Conti

el Hyde

i

40. Photography

-by Matt Holmes 64. Zoe Byun

92. Johnathan Roberts

42. Jodie Andrews

68. Scott W. H. Young

96. Spotlights

48. Chelsey Fulbright

74. Kylie Ann Petrie

108. And We Breathe

What defines “home” to you?

Kylie Ann Petrie

For me the idea of home has always carried with it a strong sense of belonging. In this way, some places have felt more like home than others, but I wonder if I’ll ever really find “home.” Will I, or anyone for that matter, ever truly feel a sense of belonging to a particular place and time?

Okay, home to me is just my house. I’ve lived there all my life- well, since I was 3- but I love it there, in that house. Just memories every single place I look, and it’s really nice and comforting. And my house, is just “home”.

Scott W. H. Young Kelsey Skordal

I guess home to me is that feeling of security, when you feel all warm and safe.

Home to me is that place, or that moment when you can feel that tinge of love within you for no paticular reason, it’s simple, real and special.

Zoe Byun

Jessica Polar

Amelia Oakley

I’ve never moved so home is really easy to define. It’s this specific house on a specific street in a specific town. Ask me this question again in two or three years, after I’ve moved out and gone to college, and then maybe my definition will begin to change.

HOME: The place where I feel save when it´s raining or snowing outside, a perfect one if I want to hidden myself. Home means create. My parents and my sister. Home is where smells to toasts, candles and cake. How I am and what I´ve become.

I don’t read too often, but when I do, I draw so much inspiration from the text. One of my favorites is Where the Heart Is, by Billie Letts. Anyway, it’s a great book and one of my favorite quotes from it is about home. It goes “home is the place that’ll catch you when you fall... and we all fall.”

Home to me is not always my house, or even my family; it’s my friends, my teachers, and mostly my comfort zone: where I can be me one hundred and ten percent of the time. Basically, to me, what defines home is that place in your mind you can always go back to, even if your life journey leads you far from it.

Chelsey Fulbright

Home is where my heart feels cozy, loved, inspired, and nurtured.

My home is in my husband’s heart. I know that whether we physically live in a majestic castle or on the streets, I never want to be anywhere but at his side, holding his hand. Mushy, I know, but completely true. As e. e. cummings writes, “i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart).”

Hannah Conti

Home is a place you feel safe and loved, a place where you belong Kayla Deines

Home, to me, is somewhere you can kick back and relax without having to worry about anyone or anything. To me it can be a place or it can be a person. It can be in a coffee shop, a beach, in your favorite town, in your living room. It can be with your best friend, your sister, your dog, your partner, anyone. It’s that one place where your completely yourself, and happy to be so. Home for me is sitting back after a long day at university, cooking dinner with my other half, and watching a movie. That is home.

Jodie Andrews

Her Morning Elega -With Photographs By Rachael Hyde

ance

Art

[ahrt]

Art

-noun 1. formation 2. the creation of something material (a painting, a photograph), out of something immaterial (an idea, a concept), a concept.

3. something created that is appealing to one’s senses.

4. imaginations, thoughts, ideas, wants, fears, desire, needs, loves, hates of every living person put into images and words.4 5. the expression of an individual through physical and musical mediums which combine to turn thoughts and emotions from nowhere and nothing to everything we hold dear.

6. an action of life that causes the audience to think, if only for a moment.

7. a medium to show one’s opinions and feelings.

Drawing // Emily Pichette

Kelsey Skordal 16 | Seattle, Washington http://cargocollective.com/kelseyskordal

What first inspired you to create?

Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve been drawing since I was a little kid, and for some reason I never stopped. In elementary school I would draw pictures for my friends and I guess I just liked the feeling of creating something that other people liked.

Why do you create now?

I create because it is what I do, if that makes sense. I draw and doodle a lot and I don’t think much of it, it’s just some thing I do, like taking showers. I couldn’t imagine not drawing, like most people couldn’t imagine not taking showers.

Where do you find inspiration for you artwork?

I find inspiration in photographs, people, and music, mostly. I think photographs are really wonderful. They just feel fragile and it makes me want to draw them or stare at them for a long time. I like faces, as it is easy to tell. I can’t really describe that one too much, but sometimes I’ll be looking at someone and I’ll really want to draw their nose or something. And lastly, music. I think music inspires almost everyone, or at least makes them want to dance.

What is your favorite medium to use?

Graphite pencils, most definitely.

They’re quick, versatile, and not permanent. I like mechanical pencils best, s ince you can get really thin lines.

Miekala Cangelo 16 | Dallas, Texas | http://www.flickr.com/photos/miekalac_angelosi/

osi

Racing Minds: Why do you like to create?

Miekala Cangelosi: Every medium of art I create has its reasons. Some I don’t know of yet and will maybe find out as time gradually goes. Everything I’ve ever drawn, painted, captured, or designed is a little piece that’s helped me get to know who I really am. It also helps me examine and dissect the beauty and mystery in everything. Knowing that I have the ability to portray an explainable piece of me through my fingers is incredible. And having the ability to be able to connect and spark some emotion, feeling, sense, or memory in other people is amazing. Creating art opens up this “escape” that is absolutely beautiful.

RM: Describe your perfect day.

MC: Oh man. My perfect day would include a spontaneous adventure with my boyfriend or my good friends then camping that same night. I’m sure I would love whatever we did or wherever we would go to. I would also take pictures/document every second of the day. I also wouldn’t mind if I went to the beach for a little bit.

RM: Describe what a vector is.

MC: It’s just another way to portray your art digitally. I usually take a photo/draw something and put it into Photoshop (I have yet to learn Illustrator) and you just overlay the picture/drawing with a bunch of shapes.

RM: What are three things you could not go a day without?

MC: Besides eating, sleeping, and the other daily necessities, I know I wouldn’t be a happy girl if I didn’t snuggle my cat (I am pretty sure I’m going to be a crazy cat lady), working on/creating some sort of art (at least a doodle), or listen to music/sing something.

RM: Who means the most to you and why?

MC: My identical twin sister, Sophie is someone that means the world to me. I honestly don’t think any bond could be stronger than the bond that twins have considering we’ve shared a womb... She’s the only person that knows me better than myself. She’s been there since I’ve literally ever existed meaning we’ve been through everything together and shared the same experiences. We are so different but so alike which is so wonderful. I don’t think I could ever live without her. She is honestly the most beautiful, wise, funny, positive, loving, and generous souls I’ve ever known and will know. I can honestly say that if I could have anyone as my twin sister, I’m so incredibly happy it’s her.

RM: How would you define art?

MC: Similar to what I said about creating. Just another piece of someone’s soul expressed through something beautiful.

Writ•ing [rahy-ting]

-noun 1. self-expression

Writing

Photo // Alyssa Watson

Karisa Ann Lamle My heart pitter patters Like the rain that washes against my windowpane He told me he loved me the other day But I did not answer back I’m scared of something.

Something that is covered in candy-cotton memories But with a rose-tinged fade to it.

Something that is tainted But sacred. Something untouched Yet touched By everyone under the stars.

I don't get why they call it love I don't know why people fall IN love & out of it.

How could people give their whole heart to someone Then allow it to be broken upon reason.

Sure, you love me But that doesn't erase the fact that you may unlove me One of these days...

e

The Robotic Puppet Girl There’s this girl Who sits with all her friends Who really isn’t there Her face is blank A dried canvas of nothing A laugh here and there A smile often, yet subtle She looks ahead at the board Her eyes of the ocean stripped of their sheen She’s perfect In every way On the outside But imperfect In every other way On the inside I don’t really know her At all really But my heart dies each time When i look at her sullen face I wonder what goes on In that mind of hers If it’s filled with thoughts and feelings She just seems like a robot Walking on command But maybe that’s just the pressure

That people have pressed upon her I know she struggles For those perfect grades Body Facade But what if one day That mask of hers breaks?

What will become of that perfect Yet imperfect girl Who has it all But doesn’t really want it Will she crumble and break Release all that bottled up emotion?

She really is a sweet person You know I’ve gotten a few smiles from her But my body aches Whenever she walks by For i know that’s there’s an amazing person Within that puppet That is forced to be someone she’s not But someone she has to be To fill the role that is thrust upon her.

Samantha Patters http://www.flickr.com/photos/29381908@N02/

My name is Samantha Patterson (known as Sam Kate to most). I breathe photography, and write on the side. I’m lost but searching. I carry my camera around with me all the time, not as an accessory but as a lifeline. Photography is how I clear my mind during my battle through depression, how I found myself, and continue to during my transformation into an adult. I’ve been taking photographs for several years, ever since I opened the Christmas gift that would be a Nikon Point and Shoot camera that became my sidekick and eventually my passion.

These past couple years, I’ve grown from what I’ve worked at and am interested in sharing it with people that struggle through the same things I have hoping it will make a difference in someones life, even if its slight.

My mind races as much as my eyes as I can feel my fingers grace the outside of my camera, hands focusing, shutter snapping. Nothing in the world can stop me, my mind is in it and I’m focused, as well as the lens is, on what I’m doing. I escape into a world I understand, one that doesn’t bite back, one that lets me be who I want to be when I need to express myself in ways that words can’t comprehend.

Depression could never take my camera away. It never felt so comfortable in my hands at the time, like it was meant to be there. Meant to change my entire view on my life as I spend it in this beautiful world that I never knew existed before I could see it through my lens. On the days I laid in bed crying that was the one thing I always felt I could handle, mentally and physically. It was the one thing I could fall back on when I felt like everything else was in some form, falling apart.

son

I started listening to Paramore when I was about twelve. I remember hearing

“Pressure” off their album All We Know is Falling and sliding deeper in love with

every new track I listened to. Not only could I relate to it, but with every new year

of my life I had a Paramore song I could listen to for an escape out of the

depression I was falling into. Each day I coped with it, I felt myself playing it from

when I woke up, to when I closed my eyes to begin a new frustrating day.

I could feel the hearts racing of thousands of people. I could feel the lights shining on my eyes as the sweat rolled down my face. Her fiery red hair appeared on the stage in front of me. She skipped across the stage with such grace and elegance, belting out notes I never would have imagined. Her voice trailed off into an introduction to the crowd…

“We are PARAMORE” I became family with everyone, feeling the rhythm in the walls and singing along to the top of our lungs we where all one. We had all taken something that had enhanced our lives from this moment and none could take that way from us.

I felt my breathing picking up as I flipped my hair around to the songs I had gone to when I had no one else to go to. The songs that played through my speakers for months on end making my depression slip into states where I felt I could Misguided Ghosts started, heart shook as I held hands with my best friend. We sang and swayed, sisters at heart we had dreamed of the moment for months and here it was in front of us.

The spunk from Hayley Williams had not only warmed my heart, but changed my life. She never would know the impact she’s with held in my life, the lyrics that she wrote that made me feel alive and at home and welcomed.

“Welcome to our Family” - Hayley Williams: Mansfield Massachusetts, July 28th 2010.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Her Dad is on the couch behind her in a deep sleep while his sci-fi show rages on loudly and obnoxiously. She’s sweating insane amounts, to the point where If she where to cry she’d have sweat streaming down her face instead of tears. Her short red and black hair is sticking to her neck. Her brother face lights up as he watches the television screen.

“My emotional well-being is wavering between bad and nightmare recently. Concealing it as much as possible from my family, and friends is the object of the game at this point. I can feel myself getting jealous, frustrated, and sad but most of all, angry.”

She lays her head on the pillow. She can smell her Mom’s perfume and it reminds her of when she was a little girl and how comforted she was when she had experienced it before at a young age. Tess is next to her, her small chest breathing in and out, over and over. Her blond hair shines in tiny bit of light coming from the kitchen.

“I can’t seem to find the tears, and yet I know they are there. I know they want to run down my face. I know I’d feel better. I can’t bring myself to do it anymore. I just sit, motionless. Lonely, and cold.”

She can feel her eyes shut slowly, several times before the jerking of her head dropping wakes her up fully to the decision she’s going to rest. She lays down, rubs her feet through the soft comforter and dreams of the places she’ll end up tomorrow as her arms fall around Tess’ small warm body.

Kayla Deines 16 | http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaylablack/

1. I sat on the wooden chair on the back porch, my legs swinging back and forth, not yet long enough to reach the ground. I carefully tucked my light blonde hair behind my small ear and listened to the birds chirping from the safety of the bushes. My cat sat on the fence watching the branches move, and my eyes followed the slow flick of his tail. The sun was high overhead and I could feel the cute little freckles forming on my face, the ones that Matthew liked. He was a kid in my class, we kissed under the slide at recess yesterday, and he told me he would love me forever. He gave me a valentine last month, but the cat used it to sharpen its claws, and I cried. I watched the cat as he jumped to the ground, my soft curls falling from behind my ear. I didn’t tuck them out of the way this time; instead I looked at them, wondering how they turned red in the sun. The strands danced in the light and matched to orange colored fur of the fat tabby slinking along the ground. I sighed and moved the hair out of my face, wishing it would grow faster. A mean kid in my class took scissors and cut some of it off last year, then Matthew punched him in the face and got kicked out of school for a week. Matthew said he liked my hair short, he said he didn’t care how long my hair was. The cat was almost to the bushes, and walking very slow and quiet, like death. It hunched its back and its tail stopped moving, then it disappeared into the green underbrush. I watched the shadows, trying to catch of glimpse of movement. I sat still for a long time, waiting, until finally my cat emerged, a large gray lump of feathers in its mouth. He walked proud over to the sidewalk and plopped down to enjoy his lunch, and just then my mom called me to come in for lunch. Reluctantly I hopped down from my perch and walked with heavy steps towards the back door.

2. I sat in the rain today. I watched it fall down and drip off the leaves that are just starting to change color. I listened to the water drops hitting the ground and I felt them as they landed on my head. I felt the cold air slice through my skin, turning my lips blue. I sat there until I was soaked down to my bones; until my hair was dripping and plastered to my cheeks; until my hands shook uncontrollably; until I couldn’t keep my teeth from chattering; until my head stopped pounding and I could finally think. I sat there until I was sure I wasn’t dead.

3. You yelled and screamed and called me names, and I was doing everything I could not to cry. When you turned away I ran for the door before you could stop me. Usually I would run straight to my bathroom and grab my razor, but I didn’t want to be in this house with you anymore. You realized I was gone and I could hear your shouts from the driveway, let’s just let all the neighbors hear too. I didn’t care, I was leaving, and I wasn’t coming back. It was December 3rd, my birthday, and there was a thick layer of snow on the ground. I left deep footprints behind me as I walked through the still air. I knew you wouldn’t follow me, it would be a waste of your precious time, so I walked slowly. I was wearing pajamas and a short-sleeve shirt that had the name of my school written on it, not the most appropriate outfit for winter. It was alright though, the cold felt nice.

I laughed as I breathed out heavily, sending a small cloud of air into the sun. I picked up a piece of snow with my bare hands and packed it in until it was a nearly perfect sphere. Then I threw it as hard as I could and watched it disappear into the snow pile at the end of the street. I was almost to my field now, the one that no one else ever used or cared about, so I made it mine. The snow was unmoved in the field, the sun shined on it and made a million sparkles. I walked to the middle and laid down, making a perfect snow angel. I didn’t move for a long time. I’d heard that dying in the cold wasn’t so bad, because eventually you just fell asleep. The sun was high and I when I closed my eyes it was still too bright. I looked at my hands, they were bright red now, a hint of purple at my fingertips. A smile crept across my face, because I knew all the fighting would be over soon, I would be free. I sighed and kept still, welcoming the cold air into my skin. All I had to do now was wait.

4. We washed up on the shore, and held our breath until our lips turned blue, blue like the waves. We counted the seagulls flying above the water and laughed as they yelled at us. They chased us away from their nests and watched us with cautious glances as we melted and sank into the sand. The small grains dug into our backs and scratched our bones as we laid down to rest. The salt stung our eyes as we stared at the wisps of clouds. We found animals and words in the white puffs above our heads. Our eyes turned gold under the sun, and changed back to green in the shadows. Our chests moved up and down with the steady rhythm of our breathing, showing our ribs as we talked about what we didn’t eat today. The sun slowly dropped in the sky, fading from blue to gold, turning our tan skin red. We liked sunburns; they made our blood warm for hours and left their mark in our cells. We craved the warmth deep down to our cores, and loved the pain. When the sun reached the horizon its beauty enveloped us in shades of orange and red and pink. We sat up and rubbed our eyes until we could see the stars slowly peeking out from behind the mask of day. Then we smiled and looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. We did it today, we won.

5. You don’t know my name because it’s not important, but you can ask anyway. I bet you don’t even know how old I am, maybe I’m 16, maybe I’m 61, I can’t see how it matters. Where I live isn’t a big deal either, but you probably don’t care anyway. If you don’t listen to this I won’t be sad, and if you do, I most likely won’t be happy. I am indecisive. My mind never cooperates, and never leads me to where I want to go. I end up in front of locked doors and dead end streets. That doesn’t stop me though, I won’t let it. You probably don’t understand any of this, and I guess you wouldn’t if you have never been in my situation. That is fine with me though, because I wouldn’t ever want anyone to know what it is like to be me. My past haunts me every day and clouds my brain. I have panic attacks that make my heart beat fast and my hands shake for hours. My breath quickens and my eyes won’t focus on anything I want them to. I have scars on my arms and legs, ones that I put there, small marks that will always be a part of me. They could never define me though, I won’t allow that. Now you might wonder why the scars are necessary. I’m not sure I can answer that. It’s not because

of my parents, or anything like that, never assume those things. I guess I just don’t handle stress very well. Sometimes I think I should tell someone, but that thought scares me more than anything. I am trying to be better though, believe me, I am.

It’s hard though, like you have no idea, gosh it’s hard. But you know what? I think I can do it. I might need a push, or a shove every once in a while, but I truly think that I can be the person I have always wanted to be. You still don’t know me, don’t think that you do. If you have read all of this however, I can’t help but thank you, because it means you care. It means you care more than those who glanced at the length of this and continued to something more interesting, without a second thought. Maybe you feel sorry for me, maybe you think I am a freak, its fine. I don’t mind. Everyone has their opinions. I will leave now, I won’t take up anymore of your time, go have fun, fall in love. And if you ever see me on the street, say hi, introduce yourself. I will gladly return a smile; I will happily make a new friend in this dying world.

6. It’s 10:30pm and I’m staring heavy-eyed at the computer screen, looking through page after page of the thoughts of wonderful people. People who live lifetimes away, people I will never have the privilege of knowing. They are probably looking out their windows as I am, wishing upon some twisted hope that morning will never come. Those bright red lights on the clock don’t slow down though, they change will speed that almost seems to mock my miserable existence. I think sometimes that if I disappeared no one would notice, but then, I think, neither would I. My eyelids threaten to drop and there is no air in my room.

I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt that stick to my skin as it melts into the chair, and my head spins from the heat. There is a dull ache in my shoulder, along the fault line of my attempt to see what my bones looked like. And my head keeps spinning.

Pho•tog•ra•phy [fuh-tog-ruh-fee]

-noun 1. capturing something through your own perspective; capturing memories, creating art, recording history, expressing yourself.

2. disjointed visions, moments, and memories caught and morphed into something tangible and ready to hold.

3. art through a lens.

Photography

y

Photo // Amy Luff

Jodie Andrews London | www.jodieandrews.co.uk

Chelsey Fulbright 18 | Northern Illinois

t

Jessica Polar 26 | Berlin, Germany | www.jessicapolar.net

Amelia Oakley 15 | London, UK | http://www.flickr.com/photos/ameliaoakley/

‘I am not quite sane but not quite insane. Defining who I am is incredibly difficult as I’m constantly misinterpreted.

Photography is my only love, describing my life before it collided into my shapeless life is tough because I didn’t know who I was until I picked up a camera.’

Photography by Matt Holmes

Runaways

Zoe Byun

14 | New Jersey | http://www.flickr.com/photos/zoebyun/

I just run around everywhere with my camera, not knowing a clue about what I’m doing.

I love photography simply because just one picture can make me remember hidden memories and feel an infinite number of emotions.

Film is just so unpredictable and the greatest thing about using it is the moment before you rip open an envelope of freshly developed pictures. God, it’s the best.

Scott W. H. Young New York City | http://www.flickr.com/photos/woodwardhazard/

Creating photos satisfies a need to express a thought, an idea, a feeling. Creating photos allows me to reply to the world and to reply to myself. A photo can say hello, say goodbye, and say everything else in between.

Kylie Ann Petrie

15 | Cape Coral, Florida | http://www.flickr.com/photos/kylieannpetrie/

Racing Minds: So, first off, tell me a little

about yourself, like full name, age, location, and whatever else you feel like putting in!

Kylie Ann Petrie: My name is Kylie Ann Petrie, i’m fifteen years old, turning sixteen in December! And I live in boring, old Cape Coral, Florida.

RM: Why and when did you start photography?

KAP: I’ve always kind of been taking pictures.

I would take pictures when I was younger, even before I had an SLR or anything. I’ve always liked looking at pictures, and I just love doing it. My one and only hobby!

RM: Do you think you have a specific photo-

graphic style? How would you describe it?

KAP: I don’t really know how to answer it... It’s like I like to take pictures of things that I would like to see and that I would favorite on Flickr or something. I get into photographer-mode and I just sit there like “Oh! That’d be a good picture!” *click*

RM: How do you think your life would be dif-

the computer, surfin’ the web, or I do other lazy things. Wait around for something to inspire me, and then I go for it.

RM: Whats your favorite memory?

KAP: That’s a hard question because I have so many and it’d be too hard to choose!

RM: Say you had the means to design and create a new camera. What would it be like? Describe its features and special functions.

KAP: I think I’d make them smaller, and water proof definitely!

RM: How would you define photography?

KAP: For me it’s just the little things going on in my head brought to life.

RM: Do you have a favorite photograph that you have taken?

KAP: Mm, I don’t think I could pick one. But I have a few that I’m pretty proud of.

RM: If you could have any superpower, what

ferent if you had not found photography?

KAP: Ah, my life would be so different. Taking pictures is such a big part of my life that it’d be so boring without it. What would I even do without it...?!

would it be and why?

KAP: Ah! To be invisible! It would be fun to just go around and mess with people a little bit to be honest... Haha. But relating to pictures it’d be super cool to be able to fly, you could get any angel you wanted!

RM: What do you like most about photography?

RM: Describe your process from beginning to

What draws you in?

KAP:I just love pictures. Pictures are like silent memories that you can have forever, and I think that’s really cool.

RM: What do you like least?

KAP: Oh my gosh, probably just that a lot of the things having to do with cameras and photography are expensive! All the cameras, the lenses, the editing systems, the film... All that stuff kind of adds up. But it’s definitely worth it in the end!

RM: Describe your typical day.

KAP: Now that school has started I just get up early in the morning and head to my classes.

And when I come home I’ll either sit around on

end of taking a photograph, from the planning to the post processing.

KAP: I’ll just be sitting around and an idea will hit me, whether it comes from something I saw or just from my mind, and I’ll plan it all out. Get everything ready. Sometimes set things up, or if it’s just a quick thing that comes to me where I am I just take the picture. And once I’ve taken it and everything, I upload it to the computer, think of how I want it to look and I’ll edit it.

RM: What do you think most influences your work?

KAP: Mm, mostly just everything around me and the stuff I see throughout the day I guess.

RM: Whats your favorite word?

KAP: Haha, I really like the word “mitsubishi”, I just like the way it sounds.

RM: How much do you think your photography – and you – has evolved since you

started?

KAP: Well once I first got my camera I mostly just tested everything out, and I think a lot of people do the same thing when they first start. You’re kind of just amazed with all the things your camera can do and you think a lot of things look cool, when they kind of don’t... Haha. Like, I was obsessed with bokeh. No matter how crappy the picture was, if it had bokeh, it was a ten! But now I have more control about what I take pictures of and I actually know what I’m taking pictures of. More professional! ;)

RM: What do you think has been your greatest achievement, in photography or in life?

KAP: Oo, another hard question haha, I don’t even know! I haven’t done enough to

even have an answer!

More

More [mohr]

-noun 1. an additional amount

Their Favorites Scott W. H. Young: I’ve recently been revisiting Grizzly Bear’s 2004 album “Horn of Plenty.” The music is quietly powerful, and the songs all have this intense mood of introspection. The album builds to the final song, which has this lyric sung in a voice of hushed resignation: “It’s amazing all the things you said about us. It’s amazing, and true.

And it’s amazing that I can still sing this song, so simply, about you.”

Kylie Ann Petrie: I actually don’t have a favorite song, but lately I’m really into listening to all of the old songs on my playlist from 7th grade and stuff.

Kayla Deines: right now it’s “if i die young” by ‘the band perry’. it’s about... dying young.... but it has a hopeful feel to it...

Hannah Conti: My favorite song: what a difficult, difficult question.

Currently, any song by Imogen Heap. “The Walk, especially make tingles go down my spine. I saw Heap perform live last year; that concert will remain a memorable, impressive act that really was no act all. I felt like was sitting in my dear lovable, quirky friend’s living room as she recorded and looped the sound of her finger ringing over a wine glass or organized the audience into four-part harmony with herself... Basically, Imogen Heap is embodied awesomeness.

Amelia Oakley: For a couple of years my favourite song has been Oltremare, by the Italian composer Ludovico Einaudi, it breaks and rises and falls perfectly. Every time I hear it I get that sick feeling in my stomach, not the foul one, the wonderful one, the one you want to keep hold of forever.

Chelsey Fulbright: Ironically, my favorite song at the moment has no words, is not famous, and was written and produced by my ex. But, like any music lover, the reason for the obsession is the meaning behind the song. He might not agree, but it almost reflects our relationship. He wrote it while we were together, so naturally it reminds me of “us”. It goes through the different phases, like the ups and downs of a relationship, with upbeat and positive parts and a more mellow, almost sad rhythm. At the end, the song is uplifted once more, and the outcome is questionable and up to you to decide.

Listen for yourself (yes, shamelessly promoting my ex’s music: http:// soundcloud.com/kysora/kysora-cloud-running). It’s just a really great song, and I’m proud of him for pursuing his dreams!

Jodie Andrews: My favorite song at the moment has to be ‘ I Blame Coco - please rewind’ It’s a really upbeat, happy song that always puts me in a good mood. Pluss, I saw her perform an acoustic set a few weeks back and it was amazing!

Kelsey Skordal: Right now, “As the Crow Flies” by Thrice is my favorite song. It is this slow song with really simple acoustic instrumentals and beautiful vocals that make me want to sing along.

Jessica Polar: Portishead – roads. This is one of my favourites at the moment, describes perfectly my state of mind. Roads says everything. Fighting, sometimes feeling the things wrong, no more can I say and maybe the silence it is the best way to act. Roads it is for me always on the way but never found the way, movement, houses, changes, energy, travel, keep walking. Exactly, frozen to myself because I maybe feel things and this wrong. Words are unnecessary but roads.

Zoe Byun: Oh god, I have too many favorite songs. But I guess, Hard to Explain by The Strokes. Every time I listen to it, I feel like so many things can happen. Like the future has so much in store for me and there are inexplicable amounts of possibilities. It literally gives me a feeling that is hard to explain. I don’t even think that’s what the song is about, but I think the listener’s ideas on songs are sometimes more important than the artists’ original thoughts.

Hannah Conti Early 20’s | Long Island, NY | http://www.flickr.com/photos/hjconti/

I guess that’s what makes creative people “creative,” huh?

We just have to keep creating in order to be happy, live life, understand life.

“A Story Has No Beginning or No End” The windshield wipers are pulsating back and forth, like a crazed metronome. The rain is beating hard against the car. I can barely hear the hum of the engine over the sound of hammering rain. I’m having trouble seeing the highway. My sole focus must be on driving the car. No other thoughts.

I can escape the past, the future. I do not enjoy the present, but if I submerge myself in the bottomless pit of current activity, I don’t have to think about anything else. And it’s the thinking that pierces my heart over and over and over.

Tonight, I had sat downstairs in the breakfast nook with a cup of tea and The End of the Affair. However, **** I excuse this form on the basis of improving my mind. The back cover Some days, I can pretend that of The End of the Affair describes everything is normal. Other days, I the book: “This novel takes place in simply exist, living without Postwar London and examines the thinking. As odd as it might sound, adulterous love affair between writer these kind of days are the best kind.

Maurice Bendrix and Sarah Miles, I find solace in this nothingness and wife of Henry Miles, a civil servant.

I’m able to hide from the total Greene deftly describes the intense darkness for a little while. Today was jealousy, obsessions, and love one of the robotic days. I was able to between this threesome, culminating get through my daily tasks without in drama and…” much trouble. I worked in the I had picked up The End of the morning and then came home and Affair last week, highly suspicious attended to the piles of laundry of its daytime-drama description. waiting for me in the pantry. I I had started reading, “A story has cooked dinner for my two teen sons. no beginning or end….” My instinct I sorted the mail, paid bills, was to at first put it down and pick organized the many receipts lying up something more lighthearted. around, and finally balanced the However, I stuck with it. I followed checking account. I didn’t even think the journey of Maurice’s obsessive about what to do next. Many people searching for reasons why Sarah had talk about the importance of living in ended their affair. I cried with Sarah the moment. I live in the moment so as she reveals her love for Maurice in

her journal, but strives to keep her promise to God and end the affair. I cried even harder when I read about Henry, the forgotten husband, and his simple, pure love for Sarah. Of all the characters, I loved Henry.

Sometimes, I become inexplicably attached to one of the characters in the books I read. It is often one of the minor characters whose pathetic honesty grips my heart. Like Henry and his bowler hat, Henry begging Sarah not to leave him, confessing his faithful love…

****

Only twenty minutes before: The phone rang, breaking the creaky orchestrations of the house. I glanced at the clock, 11:10PM. No one ever calls this late. I knew my boys were upstairs and safe. My husband was out of town on yet another business trip. This momentary checklist had flashed through my mind in an instant as I got up from cozy refuge in the breakfast nook. I picked up the phone with a sigh. **** “Hello, McAdley residence.”

“Hello, Sharon?” The voice at the My car’s headlights are the only other end of the line was breathless breaks in the monotonous darkness, and female. illuminating only more waves of rain.

“This is Sharon. May I ask who is My hands grip the steering wheel speaking?” tightly. On the passenger’s seat, The “Hello, this is Cindy Baker. I’m a…

End of the Affair sits patiently um, friend of your husband.” Silence waiting. I’m not even sure why I followed by muffled sniffles. “I know brought the book with me. I needed it is not my place to be calling your Henry to stand by me tonight. I home at this hour. But I wanna tell reach over and touch the cover of you that Mike is here. At St. Francis the novel. Henry, how did you do Hospital. He’s… had a heart attack,… this? I think, pray? Is it possible to and… he keeps asking for you,” the love without expecting anything in woman’s voice broke and subsided. return? Can a spouse love the other All my senses failed for a split after an infidelity? How did you live moment. I saw nothing, just a black with this pain that gnaws and tears hole enveloping my life. All the ordithe flesh until everything becomes nary house noises of rumbling water torture? No reply comes from the pipes and ticking clocks ceased. I book. The road remains an eerie blur didn’t know if I was standing up or as I continue to drive. laying facedown. And then suddenly,

I was back.

“I’ll be there in an a half an hour.

Are you in the emergency room?

North or South building?” I was alert, practical, seeking all the necessary information. My mind felt completely clear as I wrote down all the details Cindy told me.

“Oh and Cindy? One last thing,” my voice remained composed and confident.

“Yes?” “Where was my husband when he had the heart attack?”

Deafening silence. And then, Cindy replied, “Mike was at my apartment.” **** In books, there are often moments that change one’s life entirely. I have never had one of those instances.

Instead, my life evolves, things change over time, and events build on one another. My husband has been working late for the past year. He has gone on five business trips in the past nine months. The distance between us has become a chasm of glares and sobs. I have suspected something, someone for a long time.

Now I know for certain. I feel like I have just won a game of Clue. It was Mike in the bedroom with Cindy.

I think about the oddity of knowing

this fact. My husband became involved with someone named Cindy? Why a Cindy? What’s wrong with good ol’ Sharon? Am I boring?

Was it all about the sex?

The rain is still slamming down onto the car from all sides. I am nearing the hospital. The street lamps illuminate the streets and the bright lights of the ER glow in the rain. I park the car, turning off the engine, and finally gasp. Tears stream down my face, matching the pace of the rain outside. I am immersed in welcome darkness of the night. I feel like oceans of grief pour from my eyes. I let go of all the inhibitions that hold me in one piece, all the pretending. Nothing is the way it should be. Why am I here?

The bleak wetness does not answer.

Henry? I try again. Henry, how did you do this? How did you deal with the pain? I pick up The End of the Affair and hold it to my chest, like a child clutching a teddy bear.

I turn on the overhead light in the car. I catch a glimpse of my puffy eyes looking like ripe tomatoes in the rear-view mirror and turn away hurriedly. Outside, the storm continues to rage. I must face the facts. I must not hide from my life by balancing the checkbook or reading novels. I put The End of the Affair down on the seat and pick up my

pocketbook. I grab my umbrella and open the car door. As I walk towards the ER entrance, I think of the starting words of the book, “A story has no beginning or end.� This is the beginning of facing life head on, I think. This story of my life is starting over anew as well as concluding another chapter.

Johnathan Roberts

22 | Bay City, Michigan | http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnathan_roberts/

1

Spotlights 1 | Allie, 2 | Allie, 3 | Evi van Rijn, 4| Matt Hill, 5 | Amy Luff, 6 | Amy Luff, 7 | Ksenia Klykova, 8 | Brennca Percy, 9| Diana Santisteban, 10 | Danmi Lee, 11 | Gracie Cannell, 12 | Nicole Chicoine, 13 | Eric Albee, 14 | Elizaveta Porodina, 15 | Devon France, 16 | Gracie Cannell, 17 | Lizzy Newman, 18 | India Harris, 19 | Maggie Ann Re, 20 | Esrah Boulton, 21 | Rachel Raindrop, 22 | Ann He, 23 | Rachel Liu, 24 | Maddie Goldbeck, 25 | Julia Schmidt, 26 | Ksenia Klykova, 27 | Matt Hill, 28 | Maggie Ann Re, 29 | Rachel Raindrop, 30| Anastasiya Sanchex, 31 | Toreee Royle, 32 | Chantel Baggley, 33 | Amalia Mills, 34 | Eric Albee, 35 | Sarah Ching, 36 | Taylor Barringer 3

4

2

5

6 7

8

10

9 12

11 13

14 15

16 17

18

20

19 22

23

24

21

25

27 29

28

26

30 31

32 33

34

35 36

1

3

Editors’ Picks 1 | Betiatto Junior, 2 | Matt Hill, 3 | Elizaveta Porodina, 4 | Kari Koty, 5| Megan Kender. 6 | Katherine Rodrigues, 7 | Chantel Baggley

2

4 5

6 7

Photo // Miekala Cangelosi

and we breathe and fill our lungs.

two balloons until the balloons must po

repeated. the cool chill and before we know it ou

invisible wind and we laugh with wind that blows in dallas, in los angel shines

above

us,

and

again

we

e in the fall air they expand like

l we exhale and

op before the cycle is air sticks to our skin,

ur hair is being lifted by an wonder because this is the same

les, in france and england. the same sun breathe

in,

filling

those

two

balloons.

Thank you.

-Sarah