STIR Magazine Fall 2015 by STIR Magazine

FALL 2015

LOST &found An Interview with Diana Levine 4 Get Lost 8 Lost Boys 16 Edited Eras 17 Treasure or Trash 20 Directionless 22 Defaced 26 Finding Time 28 Lost Things 30 The Lost Houses 32 Found in Ink 38 Clarkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s History in Color 40 Orientation to Graduation 42

Found: Love 45 An Epiphany 48 Wandering 49 Finding Worcester 51 Lost Sleep, Found Time 53 The Life of a Chronic Procrastinator 55 Blindfolded Dinner Party 57 Lost & Found Identities 58 Finding Refuge in the Woo 60 Lost Not Found: Student Immigration 62 The Item Girl & I 64 Cultural Lost & Found 68 The Love I Have for You 70

STAFF

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Rose Gallogly

PHOTOGRAPHY EDITOR Dominique Pratt

MANAGING EDITOR Audrey Dolan

WRITING EDITORS Abby Moon Hunter Hoysradt Lance Yau Lloyd Schramm

CONTRIBUTORS Alyssa Pelletier Anna Spack Beatrice Misher Ben Forman Chung Truong Dania Simoun Fileona Dkhar Isabelle Costa Jenna DeFosse Julia Schroeder Katherine Landesman Linh Vu Luke Ballmer Mary Schiffer Rashida Buchanan Skye Wingo Sophia Dzikas

COVER IMAGE BY CHUNG TRUONG

CONTACT INFORMATION STIR Magazine 950 Main St. Worcester, MA 01610 clarkstirmagazine.com stirmagazine@gmail.com

LAYOUT STAFF Abby Moon Charlotte Bresee Christian Rentsman Eve Tran Isabelle Costa Jenna DeFosse Mary Schiffer Rose Gallogly Sarah Shine

letter from the editor I have a vivid memory of the very first STIR meeting I attended. I can still picture the panel of intimidatingly cool editors sitting in the front of Jeff 133, the free-flowing brainstorm and creative exchange they led. I felt a little out of place as a shy first-year who really just wanted to work on layout, but I still sensed that this magazine would be worth being a part of, that I had really found something special here. Seven semesters later, I am proud present the fifteenth volume of STIR Magazine, our Fall 2015 issue. Taking our cue from last semester’s issue, we’ve decided to suspend STIR’s defined sections, instead allowing the content to be tied together by the conceptual framework of our theme, “lost and found.” By delving into this theme, our contributors have once again shown the incredible depth of their creativity, exploring everything from the value of discarded items to the difficulty of finding one’s place in a new culture. We’ve reconnected with STIR’s past through an interview with this magazine’s incredible founder, and we’ve looked toward our future by considering what we might lose and find post-graduation. It has been an honor to serve as STIR’s Editor-in-Chief and Layout Editor this year. Working with an incredible editorial board as well as an impressively talented layout staff has made my love for STIR grow infinitely over the course of the past three months. A few shout-outs: Dominique, thank you so much for being my unofficial second-in-command, and for your constant encouragement and dedication to this magazine. Audrey and Abby, the creativity and wisdom you both bring to STIR will be greatly missed next semester. Have the most amazing time abroad. STIR Magazine has evolved and grown so much in the nearly ten years since its founding. In the four years I’ve been a part of it, I’ve seen this publication broaden its conceptual boundaries, expand in length and scope, and take on a larger role on Clark’s campus (including becoming very unofficially in charge of photo booths at student events this semester). Through all of those changes, the core of this organization that I sensed at that very first meeting has remained as strong as ever. STIR is a home for creative voices at Clark, a place for artists of all sorts both to show off their talents and to cultivate them by being part of a creative community. To borrow the words of our founder, the creation of this magazine is, and has always been, a labor of love. I hope you enjoy sharing it with us.

Rose Gallogly Editor-in-Chief

AN INTERVIEW with

DIANA LEVINE

WORDS BY AUDREY DOLAN PHOTOS COURTESY OF DIANA LEVINE

(THE FOUNDER OF STIR) It's important to know where you came from, especially when you're feeling a little lost. As the STIR editorial team pondered the ideas of lost and found, we began to think about the origins of the magazine and how it came to be. We decided to trace our roots and reach out to the one woman that started it all. In finding our “lost” creator we learned some amazing facts about the magazine, Clark and what life looks like after graduation for Diana and her photography. STIR

What was your inspiration for STIR Magazine? Where does the name come from?

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Diana I created STIR Magazine because I was studying to become a photographer and designer, and desperately needed a publication that I could shoot and design for regularly. I was also doing internships for major publications like Jane Magazine (Condé Nast) and Boston Magazine, which were incredible experiences, and I needed a smaller publication to practice all the things I was learning.

At the time, I was really into Flaunt Magazine, Jane Magazine, The Fader, and so many more, and really wanted to create a similar outlet for Clark and Worcester. I remember seeing so many students doing such a variety of cool, innovative things, and I thought it would be perfect to combine my love of photography and magazine design with a project that would bring together and highlight so many of the amazing people at Clark and in the Worcester area.

I named the magazine “STIR” because it was the last sound in the word “Worcester!” I also liked the idea of “STIR” because I wanted it to be something completely different than a traditional college publication.

LOST & FOUND STIR

Who are some of the people that helped you get STIR off the ground?

When I started STIR, there were no companies like Blurb [self-publishing platform] that would print one copy of a magazine. I had to use a company in Texas, and the minimum order was HUGE. So in order for us to produce just one magazine, we had to order hundreds, and we needed a LOT of money to do this. Because we had just started, we had no financial funding from Clark.

So I spent my days going door to door to the businesses in Worcester trying to sell ads in a magazine that didn’t exist yet! I remember my first ad sale was to the pizza place right nearby, Uncle Sam’s Pizza. They took a chance on us, and bought a full page ad. I was so grateful that they believed in us, and it was their advertisement, and the ads from other local Worcester businesses, that allowed us to make our very first issue. Once we started printing regularly, it was easier to get businesses to buy ads. But I will always be grateful to Uncle Sam’s for being the first to get us going.

There were also so many professors and administrators who were mentors to me and to STIR. Stephen DiRado, Frank Armstrong, George Gendron, Jane Salerno, Angela Bazydlo, Valerie Claff, and so many more!

My friends that became staff members, and staff members that became friends. There are too many to list! Jesaca Lin, Jeffrey Chang, Anna Mazzarella, Maylene Collado, Leah Coleman, Dan De Santis, and our entire staff of about 25 people were essential to the magazine. They were writers, editors, designers, photographers, and they helped sell ads, distribute magazines, and raise money. I would never have been able to get STIR off the ground without my incredible, hard-working staff.

STIR

What were your hopes for STIR when you created it?

Diana My hope for STIR was for it to be professional. I wanted it to be a real, glossy, innovative magazine that you would love to pick up and read. I wanted it to highlight all of the amazing students I was meeting every day at Clark and around Worcester. I wanted it to be something we all worked on together as a community, and something we would all be proud of creating. STIR

What did you ideally want to do after Clark? Did things go the way you wanted?

Diana At the time, I was interested in both photography and magazine design. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Diana There were SO many people who helped us begin STIR! In no particular order, here’s a few that I remember strongly:

a freelance photographer, or work for a magazine. Right before graduation, I was offered a job as the designer at Boston Magazine, and would also be a staff photographer. So it was really a perfect first job for me, because I got to experience both design and photography in the real world.

As it turns out, I was way more excited by the photography, and so after a year, I left Boston Magazine and pursued my career as a freelance photographer. I moved to New York City and started with no clients and no work. But, I was blessed to be able to find my way in the city and found myself shooting incredible assignments, people, and campaigns.

STIR

What was your first professional job?

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Diana My first shoot that I got paid for was shooting press photos for a metal band. I did the shoot all over the Clark campus, including some in the Goddard Library. I still have one of the $20 bills they paid me with, rolled up in a film canister and my first income as a photographer.

My first professional job for a major company was shooting freelance assignments for Boston Magazine, before I joined the staff. One of the best first assignments was shooting “The 10 Best Beaches of New England.” My boyfriend (now my husband) and I got to drive around New England photographing beaches! And I got paid for it! That was a pretty awesome first assignment.

STIR

How did you get the opportunity to shoot so many famous people? What were some of the most memorable experiences?

Diana I didn’t set out to photograph celebrities but I wanted to photograph people. So that’s what I did in New York. I shot tons of bands, magazine portraits, behind-the-scenes at my boyfriend’s music video shoots, and really anything I could get my hands on. I used to post my photos on Facebook, and a few of my clients found me that way. I began shooting for AOL and a few record labels, and that’s when I started shooting more famous bands, artists, and actors. And it snowballed from there.

When magazines and labels are looking for photographers to shoot major artists, they need to have a strong level of trust that the photographer will be reliable, trustworthy, and professional. So I found that since I was able to develop strong relationships with my clients and with the people I was photographing, it became a very comfortable space for me to shoot.

My most memorable experiences have always been photographing people that were influential in my childhood and teenage years. For example, I was a huge fan of Alicia Keys and Kylie Minogue when I was in high school, and had every one of their songs memorized, so photographing both of them was like fulfilling a teenage dream. And of course, photographing Barack Obama was an experience I’ll never forget.

Diana Some of my favorite experiences have been seeing the final product. The feeling of heading into Barnes & Noble and picking up a magazine that has one of my photo spreads or ad campaigns. Also seeing my photos on a billboard in Times Square, or printed huge in a store. Those are moments that I can just quietly appreciate the amazing opportunities I’ve had and the incredible people I’ve been blessed to work with and photograph.

In terms of shoots, I’ve been blessed with so many favorite experiences, it’s hard to choose! Some of my favorite shoots were Billy Corgan, Alicia Keys, John Legend, Barack Obama, One Direction, Kim Kardashian, Kylie Minogue, New Kids on the Block, Elvis Costello, Hanson, and Ed Sheeran.

STIR

What have been some expected or unexpected challenges?

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STIR What are some of your favorite experiences that you’ve had as a professional photographer?

Diana The biggest challenge for me as a freelance photographer has always been balancing work and family. For many years, our work (my husband’s work and mine) had to come before anything else. When you’re building your career, missing an assignment could mean losing an entire client, or losing an entire month of income. We just had to put work above almost anything else. So it was hard at times. It felt like I was disappointing friends and family if I had to cancel plans last minute. STIR

What kind of work have you been doing recently?

Diana The biggest project I’ve worked on recently was the birth of my second child! I have a two-and-a-halfyear-old son, and a seven week-old daughter. They are hands down the most magnificent, life changing, proudest work of my life. I look forward to getting back to work when my daughter gets a little bigger. But for now, I’m just enjoying this special time! They grow so quickly. STIR

I see that your husband is a cinematographer. How did you meet?

Diana Yes, my husband is a cinematographer! However, we met when we were seven years old. We grew up together, and started dating in high school. We’ve now been together for 14 years, and have been married for three years. Some people assume we met on set, but in reality, we met on the playground in second grade! Which also happens to be where he proposed to me. STIR

What’s it like being married to someone in a similar business to you?

Diana I think it’s great being married to someone in a similar field! It’s worked out well for us because we began our careers together and have been there for each other every step of the way. Our careers are similar enough that we can talk to each other about shoots and we both understand each other’s work. But, our careers are also different enough that we are never stepping on each other’s toes. Do you have any advice for future graduating Clarkies?

Diana My best advice is just to focus on what you want in life. This is a really important part of your life, where you (hopefully) have fewer responsibilities than you will later on. So this is the best time to be hyperfocused on what you want to do with your life. Do as many internships as you can possibly get your hands on, and try to meet with people that work in your intended field. Spend time with other people your age who are interested in the same things, and make your own opportunities if you don’t feel there are ones already for you. STIR

Anything in general you’d like to add for the readers of STIR?

Diana I am so excited that STIR is still around! It was a true labor of love for me and for our staff when we started the magazine, so it is such a joy to hear that you are keeping it going. Thank you so much to the current staff for giving your time and energy to a project that was such an integral part of my life during college, and ended up providing me with amazing opportunities in my professional life. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

STIR

GET

LOST STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY SKYE WINGO

“I have 20 dollars. Will you drive us as far as this amount will take?” “What are you trying to do?” “Get lost.”

LOST & FOUND

t’s impossible to get lost anymore. I’m not talking about when your GPS starts to recalculate on its own, and you feel a sharp pang of anxiety as you reach an exit that may or may not be yours. There are so many ways for people to be connected through mobile apps and the internet that it’s very rare to actually become physically lost. What have we lost in gaining the ability to always know where we are? I decided that the only way I could know was by getting myself lost, and finding my way back using only the help of the people around me.

• No internet or cellular service • No asking others how to get to Worcester/Clark University I packed my bag, understood my rules, and readied myself to go on this adventure. But it’s a lot harder to get lost than it looks. Time and time again, I was forced to put off the date of my adventure. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. Why couldn’t I just get lost? Then my Dad visited me. And he joined in my goal of getting lost.

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Before I could start, I needed to set myself some challenges to make sure I could be totally lost.

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3:50 p.m. Packed bags, zipped jackets, and a piece of gum for the road (totally forgetting to offer a piece to my dad). We hopped into a cab. I blindfolded myself, and my dad took pictures of landmarks to look at (if) we returned home. When I felt the kick of the cab accelerating onto a highway, I couldn’t help but laugh and think “Shit, this is a little dangerous, yeah? Yeah.”

*the cab driver laughs*

We arrived in an unknown town, and now we had to get back. That feeling was terrifying. How far would we need to walk? What would we need to do to get back? How long could I just be with my dad… and talk?

FOUR YEARS AGO My parents told me they were working on a divorce. I now had two homes to choose from for Thanksgiving. I became the mediator between them, dealing with all of their passive aggressive anger surrounding the decision. It sucked, and it was the most separated from my family that I have ever felt.

LOST & FOUND

“A little late on that question, Dad”

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“Now, you sure you want to do this, Skye?”

NOW

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My dad and I are walking down the longest street ever, and we start talking. We start talking about women and careers and grad school and life. I was stuck with him, and he was stuck with me. He was starting to understand who I was now. I hadn’t seen him much since coming back from studying abroad last semester, and we were taking that in as the reality. I realized that this trip to get lost wouldn’t be about trying to find my way back home, but about finding a new way of experiencing people.

“Is. . . is that a tree?” “Sure isn’t trying to be.”

LOST & FOUND

We came up to this huge tree on someone’s lawn. Being the rebels that we both are, we walked up and started looking around it. I then heard a voice from behind me. It was a woman, whose name I later learned was Ersula, and she was the neighbor of the person who owned this monstrous structure. The second person to come over to us was her husband, Phil, who I soon found out went to Clark for graduate school. They were eager to hear our story, and invited us into their backyard for a small tour. It was not forced. It didn’t seem like they felt an obligation to help us through this weird project. They were just people. If you think about it, that’s what people used to do when they needed to find their way. Ask, dammit! An app can tell you how to get there. A person will tell you how the experience of getting there will be.

After this small talk we asked them where the nearest spot for food was. I didn’t have a reason to ask for food, other than to satisfy the request of my stomach. They pointed us in the right direction and we were off. We passed down a huge hill to the end, leading to a sign that pointed toward the Worcester Police Department and Jail. I cared more about the huge solar panels on the same side of the road, so I ran over to take a picture.

“Oh boy, Skye. Us walking down this street—people are going to think we escaped from the jail!” “Two black guys suspiciously walking down the street from a jail, stopping a mile away to take a photo of solar panels? Sounds like a neo-Jim Crow film.”

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Then a cop pulled us over about a half a mile from the sign pointing to the jail.

The cop got a call that there were two suspicious figures, one walking towards the field of solar panels. He asked us if we just came from the jail, and my dad stepped in front of me to explain our adventure. The cop laughed and said he didn’t mean any harm, but that it was part of his job to respond to calls like this. We asked him if we were going the right way for food and he pointed us in the right direction. When I asked the cop for a photo, he became a little hesitant. We are in an age when Walking While Black is enough for a phone call to make sure nothing “bad” is happening—I could have used this photo to bring attention to a moment that may have hurt my character or being. It’s difficult to trust another person with a photo that could be used maliciously. Trust.

Streets were becoming narrow, and buildings started to replace trees. As soon as I saw hearts on the street signs, I knew we were back in Worcester. We arrived at a diner and ate like we were early settlers enjoying what food we had. For a time we were completely silent, busy stuffing our mouths. And maybe, back then, that’s how meals worked—an average day was just someone working to get from A to B.

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To us, this meal felt like we were winning the lottery. Just a meal, and a beer.

LOST & FOUND

We walked out of the restaurant and continued on our path. I checked my phone—it was 8:00 p.m. , and I had a work shift at 8:30. Time was running out. Suddenly, a Worcester bus passed and I felt the feeling of sweet salvation. We ran to the bus stop and jumped on when it arrived, without reading the destination of the bus. Then the realization hit us. There was a 50/50 chance that this bus was the wrong one. Was this it? Would I need to call in help to get us? Would the experiment end with failure?

Then the ding.

“Next stop, Union Station.”

I smiled and told my dad that we’d be home in a few minutes. We relaxed in our seats and went over the day. I realized that being lost with my dad was exactly what we needed. As we sat in the bus, driving toward our destination in a brightly lit, moving limo, everything hit us. In that exact moment, we both knew that we had experienced the success of being a father and son. I wasn’t lost, not because we had found our way back to Clark, but because I had found him. Even in the moments when things were weird for the both of us. Trying to understand the big questions like… what’s going to happen tomorrow? Or, talking with women… something that seems like it’s the only question that matters. With my dad on my right, I looked ahead and saw he was always there.

And that’s nice to know, because. . . that’s what matters, right?

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Yes it does. ▪

LOST BOYS WORDS BY ABBY MOON

When Wendy asks Peter to explain to her who the Lost Boys are, Peter tells her: “They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way.” Some days, as a college student, I feel like a baby that has been thrust out of her cradle and pushed into a wild, unpredictable environment. If you’re a small, naive human being working towards becoming a more self-reliant, intentional human being, as most of us are, you are in the midst of an uncomfortable transition. At times, you’re tired, lonely, and way out of your element. You’re overwhelmed. You deserve to be comforted, and to have fun. Is regression inherently negative?

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Some of the most refreshing experiences I’ve had as a college student have been playful and childish. After a stressful day of classes and work this September, some of my roommates and I went for a night swim at a local pond. We stripped down, giddy, hushed, and terribly sober, and sprinted into the water. We emerged soaking, splashing, and psyched, unable to suppress laughter and screams.

A girl friend and I were concerned when a close friend of ours had a really terrible come-down after a night out freshman year. We went down to his dorm room and spent the afternoon reading chapters of The Little Prince aloud to him until he was relaxed enough to sleep. I’m reminding myself as much as I’m hoping to remind any of my peers here that we need to take care of ourselves and each other. Do you remember what made you happy as a child? There is something remarkably rewarding about entertaining those impulses as an adult. Children have their priorities in a very reasonable place and they are incredibly bold and brave. They face a different set of challenges than the ones that we face as emerging adults, but we might still benefit from tapping into the strengths and talents of our former, younger selves.

As a little girl, I remember thinking it was very important that I write a long list of my values before becoming a preteen. I noticed that the adults around me often seemed tired, like they weren’t relaxing or enjoying themselves as often as they ought to have been. I recalled and repeated my values and reminders to myself often. My internal, working list sort of became a self-preservation mantra. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from also eventually becoming bored, exhausted, and a little sad. My only chance to prevent the inevitable was writing reminders down to be saved and reread periodically as I grew up. I composed and trashed several unsatisfactory drafts of this list. I wish that I had been less of a perfectionist at age eight—I can only recall a few of these items without a physical copy: 1) You don’t have to settle down. You don’t need to spend the rest of your life with one person. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life with one person… he had better be a lot of fun. You don’t have to get married. Don’t make finding a husband and getting married the only thing you worry about. 2) Don’t get rid of all of your toys. People get rid of all of their toys as they grow up. Keep at least a few of your stuffed animals. You won’t regret keeping a few of your stuffed animals. 3) Do something interesting. You can find a fun job. You deserve a fun job. I think so many people have boring jobs because they gave up on trying to have fun ones. You should probably be an archaeologist. I’ll forgive you if you decide that you don’t want to be an archaeologist anymore, but you had better do something fun and interesting. In my own funny, idealistic way, I was trying to set myself up to be a happy and fulfilled adult. Aspects of adulthood have already threatened that idealistic, optimistic mindset. At times, reconnecting with an earlier phase of my maturation or a different state of innocence have been the only ways I’ve kept myself feeling alright. It pays, I think, to be a bit childish. ▪

LOST & FOUND

Edited Eras

1970

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WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY LLOYD SCHRAMM AND ISABELLE COSTA

An era is more than the pigeonhole that our reductive memories force it into. Just as stereotypes limit our perception of others, essentializing a period in time to a single cultural ideal does the same. It loses the complexities and relationships that lay the groundwork for a society. History becomes a commodity that we package and sell, taking the collective life experiences of millions and condensing it into 70s “flowerchild” Halloween costumes and 80s night at your local dance club. These lives are transformed into objects of nostalgic comfort and playful amusement.

To edit is human nature, but what parts of our current reality will be forgotten by future generations? ▪

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1980

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1990

LOST & FOUND

treasure

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WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY DANIA SIMOUN

ow do you define treasure? How do you define trash? Some see a distinct line between these two concepts, while others see a fluid one. One person might view an empty laundry detergent bottle as trash, whereas someone else might see something unique that can be transformed into their own kind of treasure.

These photographs are of my grandfatherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s sculptures, which fill up our backyard. He primarily uses found objects, materials that many would put into the trash can without thinking twice. When I asked him what he thinks the difference between treasure and trash is, he explained that he sees no difference at all, that these categories are not mutually exclusive. These photographs bring into question the preconceived notions that many of us have regarding these ideas. Hopefully they will inspire someone to take something they find that would often be considered trash and transform it into treasure. â&#x2013;Ş

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LOST & FOUND

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY JULIA SCHROEDER

Directionless

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I’m a fan of planning. Scheduling is essential for my productivity, even though it often drains me of my sense of adventure. Premeditated shooting (pictures, not bullets) is my major offense; I seldom set out to take photos without first formulating an idea of where I’m going and what I want to take pictures of. For this shoot, I stripped myself of that direction by allowing myself to be blindfolded and driven to an unfamiliar location (by a friend, of course). I challenged myself to still find things worth photographing. These are the results. ▪

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LOST & FOUND

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LOST & FOUND

DEFACED WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALYSSA PELLETIER

Disclaimer: The author of this article did not contribute to the graffiti on campus in any way.

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ou might have been searching for a particular book, or a quiet spot to study, and stumbled across something peculiar written on the walls in Goddard Library. Littered across the bricks throughout the building are quirky, sad and even inspiring messages. These pieces of graffiti are left behind anonymously, just waiting to be found. In this article I have selected some messages to share, imagining scenarios to go along with each lost scribble.

This was only his second week at Clark, and everything still felt so unfamiliar and overwhelming. College was nothing like he had imagined it would be all summer: it was so much harder than he envisioned, but yet something inside him seemed to bubble with excitement at the idea of being here, of being a Clarkie. Nobody was looking, the library was starting to empty, and quickly and quietly he scribbled on the brick in front of him: “The best is yet to come.” He looked at the words, smiled a little. Yes, he was only a first-year, anxious and unsure of himself, but somehow he had a hunch that the next four years of his life were going to be amazing, unforgettable, and that the greatest memories and moments were just barely beginning.

Clutching the marker tightly in her hand she wrote on the brick, “I’m about to go into an interview AND I’M TERRIFIED.” Terrified. She thought that was precisely the right word, but no amount of capital letters seemed to accurately convey the feeling. She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She felt so unprepared and nervous, but deep down she tried to remind herself that she was capable and intelligent. “I can do this,” she thought. “I can do this.” She started to walk away, but a guilty feeling creeped up on her, and as an afterthought, she turned quickly around to add: “(Thought some meaningful vandalism would help).” The explanation made her feel less guilty, even if only a little bit, and perhaps somebody would find it humorous. Taking another deep breath, she inconspicuously turned away from the wall and in the direction of what she had been nervously anticipating all day. “I can do this.”

She had been contemplating writing the message on the brick for a few minutes, but finally she leaned against the wall and scribbled “Do one thing that scares you every day.” It was something she told herself, something she challenged herself to do each day. She wanted other people to read the words she left behind, for it to perhaps spark some courage in them too. Yesterday she had talked to an intimidating professor, the day before that she had gone to Boston on the train for the first time, and today, she had left behind some inspiring graffiti in the library. For others, those things might not seem so scary, but she knew that there had been a time in her life where almost everything seemed to stop her in her tracks, where she spent hours worrying over things that seemed so small. But she didn’t let her fears get in the way any more, and she hoped maybe she would inspire somebody like her old self to be a little more daring, be a little less hesitant, to do the things they always wanted to do but were too afraid of.

Over winter break he had finished reading the entire Harry Potter series for the eleventh time, and though some might call that excessive, he had yet to find a more captivating or magical story. He saw the brick wall, and couldn’t help but think of the series he had loved since childhood. Smirking, he wrote “Entrance to Diagon Alley” across an empty brick. He touched one of the bricks hesitantly, wishing for a second that he might be transported secretly into the wizarding world. Of course, nothing happened. He still stood there in Goddard, procrastinating, marker grasped in his hand, and let a small wistful sigh escape him. If nothing else, he hoped somebody else would look at it and try touching it too. He hoped that it might add a flicker of make-believe magic to their day. ▪

LOST & FOUND STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

It was an impulsive decision, she usually didn’t even come to this floor of the library. Nevertheless, as she passed the bricks she decided to write what had restlessly been on her mind all night: “You broke my heart TWICE in one year—NEVER AGAIN.” She fiddled with the pen as she thought of how tired she was of giving out chances to other people. She was exhausted by the heartbreak, by the betrayal from the people she thought she could trust. She felt angry at herself: how could she let this happen twice, in the span of less than a year? She may have been grasping the pen a little too tightly, a little too tensely as she walked away from the bricks, but she certainly didn’t look back. She secretly hoped some day that the person it was about would find it, would wonder if it was intended for them, would feel sorry for the hurt they caused. She knew that she certainly would never go out of her way looking for the brick again.

He was laughing as he brought the marker up to the wall, scrawling quickly one of the most hilarious jokes he had heard in awhile: “What do you call an alligator in a vest? Investigator!” His friend had told him that joke just last night, he could still remember his unexpected burst of laughter, how corny he thought the joke was but how he just couldn’t stop laughing every time he thought of it. He thought that perhaps leaving behind the joke would make somebody else smile, might even make somebody else laugh as hard as he did. He smiled as he walked away, and he kept chuckling to himself on his way out of the library, not minding some of the strange looks he got.

finding

TIME W

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hen did we get so busy? Last week I was a carefree kid getting lost in the woods and reading a million books a week because I didn’t have anything better to do. I wrote stories about my cats going on adventures and used fat markers to draw pictures of the flowers in my yard. During the summer, I spent my days diving through salty waves; during the winter, I spent my days sledding down snowy hills. I whined to my mom, “I’m booooreed” then made myself scarce when she threatened to “give me something to do.” Every day was a blank slate. My life was a choose-your-own-adventure story. I had all the time in the world.

Now I get up early and spend the whole day rushing. The first thing I bought for school was a planner to attempt some semblance of life organization. Classes, jobs, family, friends. Clubs, sports. I know I’m not the only one. I see it every day: students buzzing around campus with their coffees and backpacks and faces of determination. I wonder what they think about. I see them bleary-eyed in their early morning classes and bleary-eyed in the library late at night. I see them moving fast and working hard. I see them running, running. Time has become a precious resource for all of us, a bargaining chip. Time is money. Time is academic success. Time is social acceptance. It just depends on where we invest that time.

WORDS & ILLUSTRATIONS BY MARY SCHIFFER

With all the opportunities for investment, sometimes it can be hard to rationalize investing our precious time for relaxation. I’ve noticed lately when I get a chance to plop down, relaxing isn’t quite as satisfying as it should be. “You have so much stuff you could be doing right now,” my minds nags. “Shut up,” I tell it. “I’m trying to eat popcorn and do nothing.” But… That paper due on Monday, that presentation I have to work on. I have to write an article for my club and I have to call my dad back. I have to do my laundry and go to the market and work on my book. I have to sign up for that program and e-mail that person back and take notes and study for that test and—I put my book to the side, slowly close my laptop. How can I possibly relax when I have so much stuff to do? I don’t get worked up; I don’t turn into a stress case. I just shrug my shoulders and do what I have to do, albeit begrudgingly. I drag myself out of bed in the morning, collapse into bed at night. I spend hours in the library and eat my breakfast on the go. It’s not impossible to juggle all these tasks. But nobody can deny having a constant array of responsibilities that demand our time is not the ideal.

I used to walk into my parents’ room and find my dad sprawled on his bed, surrounded by bills and paperwork. A muted Judge Judy would be ripping someone a new one on his small TV, but he wouldn’t really be paying attention. Maybe he’d be smoking a cigarette nervously, or taking small sips from a half-full mug of black coffee. Whenever I saw him like this, he looked so tired. His hair seemed thinner. I noticed tiny lines on his forehead. His brows would get all furrowed as he held papers close to his face and screwed up his eyes at the tiny print. After I walked into the room, he would glance up at me, offer a lopsided grin and sigh. “It never ends.” When it never ends, where can we find the time to relax? We are losing the precious time to indulge in what we love, follow our passions individually. When you find time for yourself, you have the opportunity to find what you like. Found time is an opportunity for both exploration and precious relaxation. Often, the two are synonymous. Found time is free time. Even when you have a job doing what you love, have a class that interests you deeply—you still have to do it. And nobody likes being forced to do anything. We are

self-driven creatures who thrive on free will, action and creativity. When we find the time to relax, we find time to pursue our own interests at our own pace. I was curious, so I asked around campus: what do you do to relax, get your mind off things? Most knew exactly what they liked to do. Kat likes to play ultimate frisbee. She laughed, said she knows she isn’t really relaxing. But she feels happy and free. Max answered immediately, didn’t even have to think. He goes into his room and he plays guitar. Emily listens to music and draws. Sometimes she watches movies, but sometimes she just likes to do nothing. Another girl listed off a few hobbies, then sat silent. I knew she was brooding, so I waited. “It’s the adventures you find in life,” she finally offered. “The little moments. You just feel them, you know?” *** We down coffee in the morning to wake up and attend to our responsibilities. We down coffee at night to do the same thing. We’re always running, running. Some people buy our time. Some people steal our time. Sometimes we give our time away. Time is a precious resource; time presents the opportunity to do anything. But when we lose our time to the various responsibilities of life, it can be hard to find the time to attend to ourselves. Sometimes it is important to slow down and enjoy the time we can find. As much as others demand our time, we have to demand our own time, too. Investing our time in relaxation is healthy for the mind, body and soul. We can’t constantly be running. We have to walk sometimes or we’ll end up on the ground, gasping for air. Life isn’t all about moving fast; life is about taking a nice stroll now and then. When the opportunity comes to lay down in a field of flowers and soak in the sun, take it. We all have the same amount of time. What matters is what we do with it. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

We all have the same amount of time. 24 hours in a day. But somehow, that time isn’t enough. We always seem to be running behind, running to catch up. We always have something to do. We’re always running—running to find the time we have lost, running to find the time to relax. But relaxation slips away, falls prey to that ugly thing called responsibility. We are forced to give our time away. We lose our time to school and work and life.

LOST & FOUND

“when it never ends, when can we find the time to relax?”

lost things PHOTOGRAPHY BY SOPHIA DZIKAS

Lost at Clark,

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Found on a Saturday morning.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST & FOUND

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

the lost houses

50th St E, Palmdale, CA, USA (taken from 5000 feet off the ground)

LOST & FOUND

As part of my studies, I often need to collect satellite imagery. It’s fun to see the Earth from such a unique point of view—and, of course, it makes my lab work less tedious. Sometimes I come across a lonely farmhouse in a vast field, or an offshore lighthouse that looks like a tiny red bean dropped in a giant blue bowl. I call them “the lost buildings.” Tiny as they are, they represent the traces of human civilization in giant fields of emptiness. These snapshots—taken directly from Google Earth—are my lost houses. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

WORDS & IMAGES BY CHUNG TRUONG

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Cuevas del Becerro, Málaga, Spain (taken from 5000 feet off the ground) Adams County, WA, USA (taken from 10000 feet off the ground)

LOST & FOUND

(l–r, clockwise)

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Skillagalee Island Lighthouse, Michigan, USA (taken from 4000 feet off the ground)

(lâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;r, clockwise) Whitman County, WA, USA (taken from 10000 feet off the ground) Dodaarsweg Wind Farm, Flevoland, Netherlands (taken from 8500 feet off the ground)

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Gulf of Mexico (taken from 5000 feet off the ground)

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LOST & FOUND

found in

INK

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DOMINIQUE PRATT

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST & FOUND

Clark’s History in

COLOR

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

WORDS & PHOTO ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHUNG TRUONG

LOST & FOUND

Colorizing a black and white photo is like painting on a blank canvas. In adding color to these moments in Clark history, I was constantly playing a game of guess-what-color-would-this-shade-of-gray-was, without any clue of the actual answer. The moments captured in these photographs are gone, along with all of their original colors.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

So quickly I decided to stop the guessing game and started interpreting these long-gone moments using color schemes of my choosing. In this process, the project shifted from strictly restoring old photos to a personal exploration of the photographsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; meaning. I hope you enjoy these whimsical color combinations as much as I enjoy seeing Carl Jung in a teal suit. â&#x2013;Ş

Orientation to Graduation WORDS BY JENNA DEFOSSE

Starting and finishing college—two landmark events in our lives. When we come to college for the first time, we leave our homes and their familiarity behind. Once we settle into college, we begin to discover things about ourselves and about the world. As a way to examine the concept of “lost and found,” I talked to some Clarkies who are experiencing these two pivotal moments. Here are their responses.

QUESTIONS For first-years: What did you lose when you left home? What have you found here at Clark? For seniors: What will you lose when you leave Clark? What will you find once you graduate?

FIRST-YEARS

Lydia ‘19

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST My safety net, my family. Knowing what will happen. FOUND Confidence. Assuredness of knowing I’ll figure shit out.

Anonymous ‘19

Ian ‘19

LOST: Familiarity. FOUND: America.

LOST: Introversion. FOUND: Extroversion.

Miranda ‘19

Anonymous ‘19

LOST: All the negativity I had to deal with in high school. Terrible friends. Petty drama. FOUND: Real friends, people who really have my back.

LOST: I wish I could say my virginity… FOUND: Friendships…I dunno?

Jamie ‘19

Kyle ‘19

LOST: The comfort of home. FOUND: But I kind of found a better comfort here. [Home] was just comforting ‘cause it was.

LOST: Weight. FOUND: Pizzaritas.

LOST & FOUND Adry ‘19 LOST: I lost getting time to spend with my friends back home, especially my dog. I love my dog! Also cleanliness; we always have to share everything and people are constantly around. FOUND: What I have found is that I am better at being independent than I thought I would be.

Ziva ’19 LOST: Losing something implies something negative. I don’t think coming to Clark has made me lose anything. Last year, I was in Israel away from my family and I gained independence. FOUND: At Clark I have maintained and strengthened my independence and my passion for making a difference. Here at Clark, I have found a path where I can pursue all the different things I am passionate about. I have also found a community that, though I am unfamiliar with… it is a place I feel I can begin to call home.

SENIORS Tim ‘16

Sarah ‘16

LOSE: Weird.

LOSE: I will lose familiarity. I will lose the comfy cushioning of college.

I really want to go to grad school but I think I’ll find a job in Europe or Asia working for some sort of government or international agency. That will be really cool!

FIND:

I will find independence. I will find the real answers to my questions and probably more questions along the way.

Kat ‘16 LOSE: I will lose structure and an ultimate frisbee team. FIND:

I will find time and the ability to get along with people who do not think in the same mindset as me.

Lloyd ‘16 LOSE: A comfortable environment in which I can mess up. I will lose a sort of independence. FIND:

I will find all the pursuits I could have done, all the things I wanted to do while in class, the things that interest me instead of class. I’ll find the next step in my journey. I’ll hopefully find a boyfriend!

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

FIND:

Cyrus ‘16 LOSE:

I will lose community—I have built up a group of people around me that are my community, and when I leave, and we scatter, I will lose that. Those connections however, will last thereafter.

FIND:

I will find stability—I had an internship this summer, a nine-to-five kind of internship, but one that I really enjoyed. It gave me a taste of what my life might be like after Clark, and what I found was that I had stability. Here at Clark, so many things are going on, with clubs and classes and sports and friends and events … it is really quite hard to say whether, in two weeks time, I really will be able to make the event that you just invited me to. After college, with a much more set schedule, it will be much easier to give a straight answer to that question.

Anna ‘16 LOSE:

I will lose so much when I leave Clark. I will lose this amazing community that I have, a place that I know so well and feel comfortable in. I will lose everything about college life— walking around Clark’s beautiful campus, lying on The Green, being surrounded by interesting, motivated and inspiring individuals, even the stressful moments. . . They all add to the college experience. I will lose the “Clark bubble.” I will lose the ability to live in a community with 2200 other people my age. I will lose seeing—and even living with— some of my best friends every day. I will lose financial support from my parents once I find a job. I will lose the identity of being a “college student” (and even a student in general), which is very strange to me. On the positive side, I will lose the obligations of having to do homework and go to classes and get grades. I will lose all the things that come with being in school.

FIND:

When I graduate I think I will find a greater sense of independence. I will find an understanding of the world as a whole, outside of the context of being in college— particularly the working world. I think I will probably find more people who are conservative/Republican. I will find a job (hopefully. . .) and hopefully a place to live, a new life and some new friends. I will find myself in a new way, and I think I will find a lot that I don’t even know yet is out there to be found.

Rose ‘16

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOSE: The biggest thing that comes to mind is that once I leave Clark, my life won’t have the structure and stability that it’s pretty much always had—there won’t be anything or anyone definitively telling me what my next step in life should be anymore. That’s as exciting as it is terrifying, of course. I have the privilege of having a safety net around me in other ways, but not having the fall-back of a school structure will, I expect, be a major shock to my system.

Not to be too dramatic, but I think I’ll also lose a sense of myself when I leave. For four years, who I’ve been in relation to this school and what it means to be a college student has been a huge part of how I’ve both come to understand myself, and how I’ve defined myself to the outside world. I can’t say for sure whether or not I’ll feel lost without those things, but I do think that I’ll have to re-define big parts of myself once I leave.

FIND:

Well, to lead in from what I just said, I think—I hope—that I’ll find a new sense of myself. We all become different people depending on the context we’re in, depending on who or what we’re defined by at a given time. It’s only natural, and I think it often happens without us even noticing. I’m not at all sure where I’ll be next year—I don’t know what I’ll be doing for work, where I’ll be living, any of it. But I do know whatever it is will be drastically different from anything I’ve ever experienced, and I think that I’ll find a new version of myself in the process of growing into that new situation. ▪

trust happiness comfort respect

LOST & FOUND

FOUND:

Love

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY SOPHIA DZIKAS

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Love is something to be found; but please, do not search for it. Someday, it will find you, and it will be magnificent, and it will be worth the wait. â&#x2013;Ş

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Found.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Love

LOST & FOUND

An Epiphany (A SHORT STORY) WORDS BY LUKE BALLMER

uring his nightly shower, Jack Hutter frantically sought an answer. Was he having an epiphany? Taking care, he turned the shower off and eased onto the slippery floor. It felt dirty and somehow perilous, yet caution vanished as he remembered that his question was familiar. He began to chase an answer, or, at least, to shave more dangerously. Blood formed a globe around a sliced pimple as the young student hastened through his mirror-bound routine. He wiped off the blood with a paper towel, then fished his toothbrush from the disintegrating moving box on the sink. Brushing echoed harshly across the linoleum. He struggled against the voices.

Jack assented, and then there was nothing more. In bed hours later, he felt a snapping into place. After hours lost in the frightful juvenilia of first-person shooters, the shame had been paralyzing. He had laid in bed horrified and sweating, as if he had accidentally poisoned a close friend. But then he had a new feeling. It was as if his known universe was at once ordered by the gravitational pull of a newborn star. All of the mistakes and confusions swirled into place around it. Jack felt that the obvious, always present, must become as usual as atmospheric pressure. In a time of crisis, the obvious had become sensible and saved him! It was so clear! Scarcity of time—your one life. Clarity, forever! Epiphany.

“So, it’s happening again?” the chorus sneeringly began. Jack brushed faster.

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“Well then, let’s revisit.”

Jack’s apartment in Los Angeles appeared as it had that night. A garish painting of Marilyn Monroe flirting with James Dean in a bar while Elvis sullenly watches hung on one wall. There were cheap lamps and piled trash. His roommates sprawled out over stained sofas, clutching worn-down Xbox controllers. One of them, a sluggish, ever-cheerful student named Justin, asked Jack to join in as he returned from night class. “Come on, we never see you anymore,” in his friendly, slurred appeal.

Golden revelations like these flashed through Jack’s mind for hours, blinding any hope of decent sleep. His 8 a.m. class loomed closer. He began to have doubts. He began to become conscious of the dark holes in the ceiling. His body began to itch. He turned over restlessly and lost track of himself. Silly thoughts floated through his head. Would consciousness of time scarcity save his hours lost in Halo and ensure he’d never waste a moment of time again? In the bathroom, Jack felt his heart drop. “You’ve remembered?” the chorus cheered triumphantly. There was nothing left to do but pack up the toiletries and slowly walk back to his room. ▪

LOST & FOUND

Wandering WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY KATHERINE LANDESMAN AND ANNA SPACK

The concept of “home” can be complicated and unique to everyone. Do you really have one true home? Or can you find a bit of home in every place you go? You may temporarily call a place “home” and then travel to a new place and find something there that feels like home, too. If you can’t find one established place to call home, do you lose a sense of belonging? Or can you belong to many places at once, or even to the whole world?

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

In this piece, we explore how people express their identities through their shoes as they wander through life, losing and finding different “homes.” ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

WORDS BY BEATRICE MISHER

LOST & FOUND

finding

WORCESTER ONE PERSON’S OPINIONS ON SOME “BESTS”

When I set out to write this article, the premise was that I would write a list of “bests” in Worcester, and explanations of why they were they best. As I set about to do this, I realized my naïveté in thinking this would be a simple task. Everyone’s experience of a place is different, so who am I to sit here and tell you that the best toilet paper is 4-ply when you prefer 6? So instead of creating a comprehensive list of the best of the best in a city I am still only beginning to explore, I have instead laid out some of the experiences I have had in this city that have stuck in my mind. I hope you enjoy, and if you have any suggestions, please let me know—this is an ever-growing list.

Nutella cheesecake at Piccolo’s Italian Restaurant 157 Shrewsbury Street, Worcester, MA, 01604 I should preface this with the highly important information that I am a Nutella fanatic. More than that, I have had people tell me that I single-handedly kept the Nutella business alive during the financial crisis. With this being said, I urge you to try the Nutella Cheesecake from Piccolo’s Italian Restaurant on Shrewsbury Street. This creation can please both the Nutella fan and the cheesecake fan, as the Nutella flavor complements the creamy tangy substance one expects from a quality cheesecake. After you can barely breathe from stuffing yourself with the gnocchi or exceptionally large meatballs at Piccolo’s, top your night off with this piece of perfection.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

BEST PIECE OF CAKE

BEST PLACE TO SEE FALL FOLIAGE Hope Cemetery 119 Webster St, Worcester, MA 01603 I recently had a conversation with a friend about how autumn can be a time for self reflection and can bring about a certain sense of melancholy or sadness. The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana, lies in the fall, which I never understood when celebrating the holiday as a kid. Recently, however, I have been thinking about how it is rather fitting. Fall is a time when the trees lose their leaves, the harvest takes place, the school year starts; it is a time for endings and new beginnings. A walk through the Hope Cemetery in autumn is beautiful and thought-provoking. The old crooked trees that grow there give a sense of being lost in time, and as the falling leaves swirl around you, this feeling is also invoked by all of the thought of the lives that are held within its gates. Hope Cemetery holds quiet beauty.

BEST SUNSET-WATCHING SPOT Julia’s spot If you follow Paxton Street through Leicester, this spot is in the Becker area, across from the Worcester Airport If you drive about fifteen minutes outside of Worcester and follow the directions above, you will come across a rolling field with a foot trail leading off of the road. My friend Julia dared to follow this path and shared with me its eventual destination: a magnificent sunset. In the stark white of winter, I have seen this field light up like a flame to kindling. An old plow stands in the field, as well as various animals, depending on the time of year. I am always shocked by how quickly the beeping horns of Main South fade into a quiet, rural setting. This spot always pulls me out of the Clark bubble when I need it the most. For a beautiful drive that won't drain your gas tank, and some perspective time away from Clark, take a chance on this hidden spot.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

BEST OUTDOOR RUNNING LOOP

Coe’s Pond Maywood Street > Englewood Avenue > Circuit Avenue North > Columbus Park One of the first things I do when the snow melts enough to be outside without turning into a popsicle is to go for a run on the pavement instead of a treadmill. If you too enjoy breathing fresh air as opposed to other people’s sweat, a short running loop I have grown to like is to Coe’s Pond and back. Take Maywood Street across Park Avenue and Beaver Brook Parkway, and continue straight onto Englewood Avenue when you reach the traffic circle. Take a left at Circuit Avenue North, and continue into Columbus Park and the Reservoir. ▪

found time

LOST & FOUND

lost sleep, WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY JULIA SCHROEDER

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

To a college student, no loss is as painful as the loss of sleep. With a schedule that includes 9 a.m. classes Tuesday through Friday, this is a loss I know well. So, when I learned that I had to wake up at 7 a.m. on a Monday to shoot a quick headshot for The Scarlet, a wave of despair washed over me. Within ten minutes of waking up on Monday morning, I had the picture I needed, as well as a renewed feeling of bitterness. I needed to get more out of my loss of sleep than just one picture. Pretending I knew where I was going, I wandered towards Main Street. The early morning sun could just be seen rising above the tops of buildings, saturating the trees and streets with golden softness. Between rushing to class on weekday mornings and sleeping in on weekends, I had no way of knowing the simple beauty I was missing out on. Capturing it all with my camera was peaceful. Solitary. Refreshing. Just me, discovering what the morning light and autumn leaves have to offer when you find the time to seek them out. â&#x2013;Ş

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST & FOUND

the life of a

chronic

procrastinator WORDS BY MARY SCHIFFER

Then the flowers began to bloom and I realized, oh shit, it’s April.

“Relax,” I told myself. “You still have two months. The end of May is so far away.” The due date for my project was technically the first week of May. But they made the mistake of putting another date on the calendar: the absolute final due date, an entire two weeks later. Two weeks is an eternity, am I right? So my mind scoffed, “Pfft, you have until the end of May.” Regardless, 25 pages weren’t going to write themselves overnight. I started working on my story a little bit here and there—a few pages, maybe even most of a chapter, if I was feeling extra motivated. Over the course of the month, I finalized the beginning and mapped out the rest

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

ong term projects are the worst. During my senior year of high school, one of my graduation requirements was to complete and present a senior project. I love nature and I love writing, so I decided to write a short story about the environment. My idea was approved the first week of September. By the time December rolled around, I figured I should probably get started. I brainstormed and came up with a general plot outline and character spreadsheet. The sweet satisfaction of getting stuff done blinded me. I was obviously super ahead of the game, so I decided to take a short break.

of my story, save the ending. I wasn’t quite sure where my hero would end up yet. The “due date” came and went and I still hadn’t made much progress. I was a little nervous, but I have a history of last-minute motivation attacks. The reality of the situation basically has to knock me to the ground and throw a couple good punches before I realize, blood dripping down my face, “Wow, I should probably do this.” Two days before the “you better be done or you’re not presenting on time” due date, I had a whopping grand total of 12 pages. Solid. I was starting to get a little stressed, but I calmed myself. “Two days is so much time, you can get it done. That’s 48 hours if you don’t sleep.” Because in 48 hours I could get done what was supposed to be done over the course of nine months, right? Taking two days to double the progress I had made in one month was possible? Right?

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

I was starting to panic.

I said bye to my friends and my boyfriend and I went into lock-down mode. They rolled their eyes at my familiar behavior. My senior skip day was spent in front of the computer, madly churning out page after page. I drank far too much coffee and at times all I could do was lie immobile on the floor, contemplating the life choices that had brought me to this point. “No, I can’t go kayaking, I’m trying to finish my senior project.”

“Wasn’t that due two weeks ago?” On the start of the second day I had 35 pages done with several chapters to go. To ease my self-loathing, my best friend brought me some blueberries then scooted off to leave the tortured artist to her own musings. I appreciated the gesture but it only reminded me that there was a world that existed outside of the smoggy future of my story. The rest of that day is just a blur of word vomit and tears. I may have Oded on caffeine, or maybe I’m just repressing painful memories. All I know is that at two that following morning, I saved my final document (in three different places) and passed out, probably drooling on the floor. When I slammed down a stack of 73 pages on my teacher’s desk the next morning, my bloodshot eyes begged him to ask. I probably looked delirious, so he declined. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t complain about how I had stayed up for the past two days writing this story which I now hated with all of my soul. I presented my project the next day and did fine. I talked too fast and accidentally skipped a slide, but I’m a writer, not a talker. “How long did this take you?” the judges asked, flipping through the pages. “You know,” I leaned against my podium casually. “A few months. Art takes time.” ▪

DinnerParty

HOSTED BY BEA MISHER AND ABBY MOON

Cheap drinks, good food, no eyes. We’re blindfolding you at the door. You’ll lose one of your senses. What will you find? This is an experimental pre-game.

LOST & FOUND

Blindfolded

Good food!

We’re glad you could make it! We had a wonderful, disorienting time with you. We hope you can forgive us for feeding you baby food and serving you mixed vegetable juice drinks.

No eyes!

Blindfolded guests are dynamic guests— you each compensated for your loss of sight with heightened senses of humor. We knew being vulnerable could be interesting and uncomfortable. We had no idea it could be so funny. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Cheap drinks!

lost & found WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY LINH VU

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

This series of photos is a visual letter to all of our naïve and confused middle school selves. Nobody was born with a solid and explicit identity or personality. We are shaped by our experiences and interactions with other people. Some are lucky enough to find their identities along the way; some are less fortunate and struggle to figure themselves out. Regardless, it is always good to take some time to look back at the road we have traveled and see how far we have gone—only then are we able to grow. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST & FOUND

Finding Refuge in the Woo: Refugees & Immigrants in Worcester WORDS BY LANCE YAU

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

ithin the past decade, Worcester has become one of the leading cities in Massachusetts to take in refugees from other parts of the world. The growth of this population raises concerns for certain aspects of a city’s human infrastructure—how many people can the city take? How are we providing for them? How are these refugee communities fitting into Worcester’s identity? These are difficult questions, and the solutions aren’t easy. Refugees are not a homogeneous group, and they face a wide variety of challenges, both socioeconomic and cultural. Methods to make the refugee experience better exist in both practice and theory, but they are often underfunded and undervalued. The numbers of refugees arriving in this city are only expected to increase in the future, and therefore proactivity on this issue is necessary to make Worcester a welcoming and livable city for all.

In the past five years, 2,000 refugees from at least 24 different countries have settled to Worcester. The distinction between refugees and other immigrant groups in the US in a simple one—refugees have been forced to leave their home countries as a means of escaping extreme conflict and/or persecution. The number of refugees resettled in Worcester from 2007 to 2012 was almost the same as the total number that arrive to Massachusetts in a single year: approximately 2,000, which is a high figure compared to other states in the Northeast. The vast majority of refugees resettled in Worcester originate from the Middle East and South Asia. The countries of origin, in descending order of refugee arrivals in 2014, are Iraq (697), Somalia (332), Bhutan (251), the Democratic Republic of the Congo (214), and Afghanistan (115). The number of refugees coming to Massachusetts from

LOST & FOUND I spoke with Dr. Anita Häusermann Fábos, an Associate Professor of International Development and Social Change at Clark who studies refugees and forced migrants, about refugee communities in Worcester. She suggested that in cities with a relatively small foreign-born population, such as Worcester, the arrival of non-immigrant refugees can have a significant impact. This refugee population is affecting our city culturally, economically, and politically, and these changes cannot be ignored. The biggest difference between non-immigrant populations and refugees revolve around two main axes: education and income. While not directly correlated, the employment rate and level of formal education in refugee communities is closely related. This link can clearly lead to lower levels of employment in these communities. In the healthcare industry, for example, the disparity between refugees’ and American workers’ median wage is incredibly stark. According to Professor Fábos, refugees earn on average as little as $31,420 a year, compared to a median annual wage of $89,500 among American employees. The meager possibility of socioeconomic mobility creates a vicious cycle that keeps these groups on the economic margins of our society.

Is there anything that organizations in the city can do? Groups such as the Worcester Refugee Assistance Program (WRAP), the Refugee and Immigration Assistance Center (RIAC) and the Ascentria Services for New Americans (formerly Lutheran Social Services) already play a massive role in educating adults, and offering social services such as foster care for children. Often, however, these efforts are not enough. Worcester does provide some services that work to address these issues: summer programs that target public housing developments along with Boys and Girls Clubs and other agencies dealing with youth populations foster for intercultural interaction for newly settled families. The barriers for communities as a whole are daunting despite these integration services for adults. Essentially, the current system plans for limited integration for first generation refugees, in the hope that future generations are able to gradually become a part of and contribute to the local culture and economy. So, what can we do? It can be hard for an individual to make a big difference. Keeping an open mind and trying to empathize with refugees are essential first steps. Think about volunteering and helping out at local organizations—even jobs such as tutoring and babysitting go a long way in helping them to adjust and feel welcomed into their new country. A final important point to keep in mind: while refugees have already escaped danger by leaving their home countries, their longest and hardest journey—starting a new life for their family in America—has just begun. ▪

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certain countries, namely Iraq, Somalia, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, have seen a drastic increase in recent years. This demonstrates a clear message: as a city, we cannot batten down the hatches and wait for the stream of refugees to slow down, as the opposite is more likely to be the case.

LOST not FOUND: WORDS BY RASHIDA BUCHANAN

STUDENT IMMIGRATION

he topic is immigration, and the first 2015 Republican Presidential Debates have established themselves as a platform for controversy surrounding all things regarding the topic.

“ The fact is, since then, many killings, murders, crime, drugs pouring across the border, are money going out and the drugs coming in. And I said we need to build a wall, and it has to be built quickly. And I don’t mind having a big beautiful door in that wall so that people can come into this country legally. But we need, Jeb, to build a wall, we need to keep illegals out.”

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— Donald Trump (1st Republican Primetime Debate, August 18, 2015)

It might be said that the controversy revolving around Mr. Trump’s comments has instigated much of the conversation surrounding illegal immigration—a topic, which despite all this discussion, still stands disappointingly unclear. What is an illegal immigrant and what constitutes their identity? If by definition an “Undocumented Alien,” is an alien who has entered the United States illegally and is deport-able if apprehended, why is “illegal” being equated with serious criminal activity? Is Mr. Trump suggesting that all illegal immigrants are criminals? Is he alluding to the idea that all illegal immigrants come to the United States specifically to enact crimes? Even more surprisingly, the striking lack of discourse concerning the legal side of the fence has me wondering

why politics conceals the fine print; especially when the path to long-term legal status is much more convoluted than alluded to. Why is there a presumption that this other side of the fence—legal status non-immigrants— is any less broken? This heated debate overshadows the contemporary reality that 14% of Clark University students are currently facing along with 900,000 international students studying in the United States. These difficulties have not only been neglected, but also painted as a picture of perfection—that any illegal immigrant can have opportunity as long as they pursue such action in a safe and legal space. It is my goal to reveal that this safe and legal space is hardly as appetizing, rewarding, or even worth the effort, as many politicians seem to suggest. Let me now describe for you what that safe and legal space looks like: According to the USCIS website there are four—yes, only four—main paths to long-term legal status in the United States: family sponsorship, a job offer from a U.S. employer, humanitarian reasons, and selection via a green-card lottery. Family sponsorship can take anywhere from many months to up to ten years, depending on relationship to the sponsor, before fulfillment. Humanitarian reasons refer to refugees fleeing from severely adverse circumstances within their home countries. Green-card lottery is a diversity program open to a limited number of countries, with an annual cap of 50,000 people. Which just leaves “A job offer from a U.S. employer” as the primary method through which many persons obtain long-term legal status.

If a job is obtained, the international student then has twelve months to convince their hiring company that

“

All this seems like a lot of stress for internationals simply seeking to engage in the fields they have been studying, for a longer guaranteed period than just 12 months. And even all this technical discussion has not included the visa limitations of F1 international students, which for example, restricts students from in working off-campus jobs. The immigration system is a capitalistic venture. If fiscal results may not be attained visibly and immediately, it is not considered worth the investment of longevity. Despite all desire to believe in the enrichment of knowledge for students in developing nations, the main higher edu-

We journey through these four years with a detached identity. Many miles away from home, yet lacking in certainty as to the course of our paths.

they are worth sponsoring for a visa known as the H1B. This visa lasts for six years but has a cap of 65,000, where applicants are entered into a randomized lottery competing for one of the 65,000 spots available. In 2014, within the first week 172,000 applications were received, prompting the USCIS to stop accepting applications. This is a 38% acceptance rate, where the H1B cap remains the same over time, even as the number of applicants increases annually. Even after the H1B visa, if seeking longer-term work, the international citizen has to request their company for sponsorship of a green card; however, even that is a completely different ballgame. If there is one thing all international students have in common, it is their search for Opportunity in places outside of their home country. Hailing from a developing nation myself, I came to America without being exposed to the fine print. America markets itself as the “Land of Opportunity,” yet there has been a shift from whom that opportunity is available to.

LOST & FOUND

If you are looking for workarounds, the self-petition EB-1 caters to Nobel Prize winners and other distinguished talents. The O-1 visa appeals to “individuals with extraordinary ability,” who are able to prove it. The EB-5 is available for Immigrant investors able to invest at least $1,000,000 and support jobs for over ten employees. And STEM extension is an attachment to OPT that extends the length of allotted time by 17 months, that is available to Science and Technology fields (35% of international student majors).

”

cation package is deceptively ambiguous. Terms are left undefined until a student of becomes a senior in college, wondering, “What on earth is an OPT?”

We journey through these four years with a detached identity. Many miles away from home, yet lacking in certainty as to the course of our paths. Made to assimilate, yet questioned when that assimilation becomes complete. Having left our countries in search for more positive prospects than offered in our homelands, yet arriving into a system that assumes little responsibility over our outcomes. We traverse this institution of migration with unforeseeable understandings as to what lies ahead post four-year tenure in the States. Stuck in the middle of unenlightened political schemes, we stand lost amidst a maze of preventative regulations, questioning the motive behind our very admission in the first place. Alas, this “lost” has not yet been found. ▪ Sources for this article include iie.org,path2usa.com,uscis.gov, newrepublic.com and usnews.com.

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

This is where immigration becomes even more complicated. The status of international students is known as “non-immigrant” because visa intention is in temporary status. The thought process of many internationals, however, is that it must be easier to transition from a non-immigrant status to long-term immigrant status; the reality, is unfortunately blockaded by a labyrinth of regulations. How, then, does the average international student traverse these statutes? Let me overview: At the point of graduation, international students are allowed to apply for jobs in the US—limited time allocated means some jobs are not available—lasting for the duration of twelve months through a program known as OPT. Due to the inland economic competition and only being able to commit to working for a year, many international students find it even more burdensome to find a job, given the already existing competitive economic climate. It is at this point in time that some international students leave completely if unable to secure a job opportunity.

the ITEM GIRL & I WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY FILEONA DKHAR

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Sheets of billowing red satin fall from above. Slowly. Caressing the statuesque female, hidden and soon to be revealed. Cut. A Glimpse of her waistline. Cut. Extreme Close Up Shot. Lips, hips and all in between. Cut. Long Shot. Full Body Shot. The item girl in all her spectacular glory dances before me.

If you’re at all curious about this interaction, go to YouTube and search: “Chikni Chameli.” Chikni Chameli, untranslatable to an extent. Chikni means Smooth, Chameli means Jasmine. Apparently her name is Jasmine and she is smoooooth. Something like a really fine Busty Betty or a Hottie Tottie? Standard cat-calling connotations. Obviously, the cinema screen is on high octane sexual energy. But who is this item girl? Within the narratives of most popular Indian cinema, there exists several character tropes. Charged with masculine energy, most of these movies require some sort of libidinal outburst. Hence, we all know of the song-dance sequences. As we’ve all fallen prey to the wisdom of the stereotype, we sometimes call such phenomena “Bollywood.” Within the polarities of character tropes, women usually oscillate between the spaces of the protagonist

LOST & FOUND

id. But I’m yet to see any butts or breasts on screen. Long way to go, long way we’ve come. Phallic pun attempted. Beyond the filmic, my own relationship with the “item girl” relates to an examination of identity. As a girl, I would dance to MTV India’s latest “item girl” music videos. In India, music videos are usually song-dance clips from movies. Sitting in front of the TV, the spectacle enabled an urge to mimic. I would then waste hours in front of the mirror, practicing my “item girl” moves. As I grew up and the tendency for critical thinking crept in, the item girl became problematic. In a patriarchal, misogynist society, evolving into a feminist meant questioning the item girl. She seemed too sexual, a creation of the

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male or the evil-since-he-was-in-the-scrotum-of-his-father villain. The item girl is a purely visual entity. She is a spectacle with no narrative outside her dance “item song” sequence. She usually enters when good and evil collide. Before the protagonist “Hero” has his final stand with the “Villain.” Before the violent climax, the item girl distracts. Scantily clad, she initiates a foreplay of dance before the masculine fist-for-fist action. Her body with all its sexual might entices the characters, the camera and the viewers. All this within the paradigms of censorship. In India, sex on screen is taboo. Song-dance sequences have always been a replacement for intimacy. Two lovers almost kiss, then the scene cuts to them dancing amongst trees and flowers. Of course, times have changed and kissing is val-

established patriarchal systems. Since filmic visuals have saturated almost every Indian memory, societal problems seemed correlated to them too. I intellectualized her into a shamed unenlightened past.

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Yet this particular mode of thinking has been personally troublesome. In a way, she initiated my discovery of sexual body politics. She was my initial reaction to a patriarchal world. I desired to be like her, to dance like her. Because I did not want to be the equivalent of the sappy all-good female protagonist. The item girlâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s sexual energy, although enforced by patriarchal systems, exerts a domi-

nance. Perhaps she does exists for masturbatory purposes. Perhaps she also exudes a woman taking charge of her very sexuality. Placed as the other, a womanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history is both depressing and sublime. The item girl is a creation that results from this. To take from Simone De Beauvoir, woman is not born but made. The item girl is part of this performative gender type. Heck, she is the performance of sex itself. But she strives for and defies this objectification with her sexuality. Within Chikni Chameli, the item girl is the sole female in the scene. Her very enticing nature grinds against the

LOST & FOUND When on-screen females are so sexually charged, what has this male gaze done to us? Does this in any way correlate with India’s rape culture? As an objective female viewer, I haven’t found an answer. I feel like I neither understand the male gaze nor the female (IRL) response to it. I’ve wanted to be the item girl. Because I want to exist as a pleasure object? No, I want to be her simply to express myself as spectacular and desirable. To be as smooth as the item girl. Sex and sexuality was an afterthought. The result of my ideological “westernization,” I suppose my conservative grandparents would think. As this contemplation lengthens into a philosophical exercise, I’ll cut it short. The item girl is someone we should talk about. Much like a video girl in videos by Drake, Rich Homie Quan, etc. Because I’ve tried being her. Have you? I’ve hid her beneath some feminist intellectualization. Have you? But I still can’t deny her. I can’t get her out of my mind. I’m still trying to get to know her better. ▪

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oppressive male gaze. She comes from it, yet seduces it and is so powerful, she can manipulate the male into submission. Yet she is not all dominatrix. A misogynist reading allows for the villain to be above her. Her presence is short lived, the screen goes back to the dominant narrative. Yet item girls continue to sell a movie, the sexualized body draws viewers.

Cultural

LOST& FOUND STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

Born and raised in the busy streets of Hanoi, I could only learn about the agrarian areas of Vietnam from photos and the news. The images of beautiful villages and bamboo trees, farmers in the traditional conical hats drew me back to the countryside. I decided to take a trip back to my motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hometown in Hung Yen province, a province in the Red River Delta of northern Vietnam. The moldy walls and old wooden furniture smelled like nostalgia. Through these photos, I sought to encapsulate the rich, antique smells, and the serenity of the place, all of which deserve a deep appreciation. â&#x2013;Ş

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY LINH VU

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

LOST & FOUND

the love i have for you

Let me be clear about my intentions here. This article, this letter really, is not for you. It is not about sharing the story of my most painful life event for sympathy or empathy. It is not about showing my invisible scar. It is about healing myself. This is about voicing all the things I need to say about them so that someone else can understand the love I felt. And so in a way, this is also very much for you and for everyone. Because it is a sad fact of life that we will all eventually feel this pain. I wish I could shield you from feeling this way, but I can’t. So I’m working through it the only way I know how. The way that they taught me to share myself. Through prayer and written word.

WORDS BY AUDREY DOLAN

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

ast semester I wrote an article on the differences between expected and unexpected loss. At the time, I thought it meant something. I thought I had been articulate and helpful. I thought I had done the research and illuminated something new for people. But I realize now that it was so forced and so untrue. It feels like a lie. Loss hurts. There is no quantifiable difference between types and ways and times. It all fucking hurts the same. This inexplicable loss has forced me to confront the fact that the world is an unfair place. It’s one of those things that you conceptually understand but holds no weight until you feel it in your gut. Until your screams and your sobs and your pain doesn’t feel like your own, but a strangers. There is a tangible, undeniable difference in how I faced the world before, and how I look at it now. The night I found out, I was watching Caitlyn Jenner’s new show “I Am Cait” alone on my couch. These beauti-

ful, strong, transgender women were taking turns talking about influential women in their lives. Who shaped you? Who gave you the courage to honor your most authentic self? Who showed you the love you needed? As they were sharing their profound and varied answers, I started thinking about this question for myself. Who are the women, or people in general, who deeply contributed to the person I am today? My mother, of course. A few specific church folk. And the Mulvaney’s. Ledell gave me my voice and Kat gave me my heart. Just as I was reflecting on the precious, formative moments I shared with them I heard the news. Kat and Ledell had died, Don in critical condition. A freak car accident on the way home from camp. It’s hard to explain the encompassing significance of them. When I tell people that I knew them through summer camp, it feels like the weakest explanation. Unless you’ve experienced this holy love, you just don’t understand. It wasn’t just summer camp.

LOST & FOUND There is a beautiful irony, a poetic justice to the circumstances surrounding their deaths. It was their grand finale. They had sung their final song, danced their last dance just the night before. 38 years, a lifetime of holy praise. The final curtain closed and they were headed back to their cute and cozy life they had all built together in Brooklyn. But it never happened. On their way home from their favorite place, doing their favorite work, they died. Randomly, tragically, instantaneously. The whole month that Don so valiantly held on was the toughest. Every day I anxiously awaited an update. I needed to know about each successful or unsuccessful surgery. I needed to know who came to visit, who came to pray. I needed to know who surrounded him with love when I couldn’t. I owe that man more than I ever realized. When the days wound down and it became clearer that he wouldn’t survive his injuries, I did something I had never done before. I prayed for someone I loved to die. It felt like the only fair and good thing to do in order for his suffering to stop. And so a month to the exact day that the accident happened, the day he lost his wife and daughter, Don too passed away. For the first time in all of the it, I felt relief. There was no more death and suffering. Everyone who had ever been touched by them could begin to heal together. I have yet to find the perfect words to explain what it feels like to lose a core element of myself. It never really occurred to me that these women, this family, so profoundly affected me until I was left to feel the absence of them.

What do you do when you lose the people that helped build you? What are you supposed to do when the family that you knew you could always turn to is gone? Some days, I feel it all. I feel utterly lost. There is nothing I can do but feel the seismic waves of residual hurt. I can’t breathe when I think about all the years I have ahead of me and all the wisdom I won’t be able to get from them. Other days I feel hate I wish I didn’t have. There is nothing I can do but curse the man that did this to them. I beg for them back, I beg for answers. Anger consumes every inch of me. But more recently I’ve been having days of happiness. I feel great appreciation for being lucky enough to have lived in their light, if only for a few years. It is once again a feeling, this time of gratitude, that I have no words for. I catch glimpses of them everywhere. I’m lucky enough to get to look up Kat’s music whenever I want on YouTube. When someone scolds me but then reminds me they love me, I think of Ledell. Whenever someone moans joyful from eating something tasty, I think of Don. Certain outfits, certain laughs, certain music. I am never without them and that comforts me. Their funeral was one of the most festive events I’ve been to. Through all the anguish and the tears, there was laughter and music and love. It felt so warm and good to be in a room full of people that I knew and loved because they brought them into my lives. And it felt good to all be able to share what made them amazing human beings. Thinking about it, it wasn’t really a funeral but a celebration of life. I was reminded by their brother and son Devan, the only surviving member of their family, that my sadness and anger stems from love. My need for justice and desire to love harder comes just from knowing them. I would not feel these things if not for the immeasurable love I had for them and I know they had for me. ▪

STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

It wasn’t just one week each summer. They knew how to create an unbreakable, unshakable bond between people. Their gifts were helping teenagers find the best parts of themselves through music and God. What they built was the most powerful form of love I’ve ever felt. My god, I wish you could feel it too.

The first STIR meeting of this semester was a creative experiment. To get this group of new writers, photographers, and designers to start thinking about this issue’s theme, “lost and found,” I posed a simple question to the group: What’s something that you’ve lost recently, and have you found it yet? If so, how? They wrote their answers on pieces of paper and we went around the room reading the responses anonymously. The beauty of their answers astounded me. The phrases read aloud were everything from funny and insightful to heart-breaking and poignant. I knew right away these answers had to be part of our magazine somehow.

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And so, about half-way through the semester, we took a break from meetings filled with planning and workshopping, and returned to these scraps of paper. The staff worked together to transform their answers into something visual, painting and drawing the collected phrases into a collage. Here’s a snapshot of the results. ▪

LOST & FOUND STIR MAGAZINE // FALL 2015

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY ROSE GALLOGLY