the phoenix chapbook
featuring Andy Hua and Andrea Li
the phoenix chapbook
featuring Andy Hua and Andrea Li
THE PHOENIX AT TOWNSEND HARRIS HIGH SCHOOL, 2015
EDITORIAL CONTRIBUTORS ADVISOR
MR. RAFAL OLECHOWSKI
EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
YELENA DZHANOVA ‘15 KRISTINE GUILLAUME ‘16
ART EDITOR LITERARY EDITOR PHOTOGRAPHY EDITOR
ANNA KIM ‘15 JASON LALLJEE ‘16 NICHOLAS RAHIM ‘16
BUSINESS MANAGER TERESA DEELY ‘16 COMMUNICATIONS MANAGER NICOLAS BARRIOS ‘17 DESIGN ASSOCIATES
EMILY CHAN ‘17 NOEL DU ‘17 AARON FERNANDO ‘18 PRABHJOT SHERGILL ‘16 JOSHUA SINGAVARAPU ‘17
COVER DESIGN BY NOEL DU ‘17
TABLE OF CONTENTS JOURNEYS Andy Hua ’15 SECTION COVER ARTWORK BY KATHY CHANG ‘18
FIRST DRAFT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 BLOTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8 THREADS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 REASONS TO LIVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
ROOTS Andrea Li ‘16 SECTION COVER ARTWORK BY ASHLEY AN ‘18
QUESTIONS AT 2:34 A.M. . . . . . . . . . . . . .14 ON BEING A GIRL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...16
And Andy
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There are never enough word run through my head, but i it can spill across a page rather never finishing, ideas have darkened t to overthink everyth my mind of all what by expressing them on Other times, they tell ta to express the thoughts dying to be born, and
y Hua journeys
ds stored in my trachea to express all the thoughts that ink, on the other hand, is limitless in how many words at once. With ink, my greatest fear is not starting, but , because once you begin, you cannot stop until all your the whites of your once blank page. As a person who tends hing, it becomes an almost necessary daily task to relieve t if’s, have nots, could haves, should haves, and didn’ts paper. Sometimes, they grow to become great poems. ales of crimes committed and adventures forgotten. I write that are clouding my judgement, the ones that are just the emotions that I never knew I had.
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FIRST DRAFT There isn’t a manual that shows people where to start what to do when an idea sticks or when inspiration taps you on the back There isn’t a way to change the mistakes you make without it becoming a second draft the opportunities missed the chances we had They don’t call it a first draft because of its risks but for its purity and while it’s annoying it will always be our idea
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The pen can only flow in one direction and its ideas scratched into eternity as time can only move forward in our lives Our love is my first draft rough on the edges full of mistakes but truthful in its words and I’ll take it as our first and final draft because we were meant to be
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BLOTS First it begins with a drop a blot that marks its territory in eternal black and then the spot begins to grow until the ever-growing darkness hides all that was and suddenly the reason for your depression is your lack of expression when all you wanted was to matter and people told you don’t bother there is no redemption this is the normal convention
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but that wasn’t what you needed that wasn’t what you wanted to hear you needed someone to be here rather than there and a new canvas to start over and a little light to wash away the black
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THREADS I know not the words that color my heart With stitches that steal the words from my lips I am well acquainted with heartstrings painted black and white so if there were light no one would know who I am someone has placed a prism in my heart and painted my heart with the colors of the wind
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REASONS TO LIVE When my world came crashing down you showed me a pen and said write down your reasons to live even when the skies were nothing but gray and the rose I planted withered and died and when hospital rooms became common place for you and I you’d always whip out a pen and paper and ask, “what are your reasons to live?”
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Andrea L roots
I am a shadow. I follow in my sister’s steps, copying and pasting her every move. When she first began to write sh stories, I opened up a small red notebook and titled the page, “My Short Story” in large bold letters. I began to story about a girl with an apathetic boyfriend. It has b years since then and I have branched out from writing dry-list-like love stories that I will never complete to everything that matters to me - from pet peeves about st the bus to pet peeves about sexism. Although people advis writing when I feel angry, I still do it, but it often c out poems that I enjoy reading and writing and analyzin In that way, I still follow in my sister’s steps; we both anger-fueled pieces. At the end of the day, no matter ho feel, writing will always allow me to feel not necessari better, but something other than what I felt originally.
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Li
d hort first write a b een eleven about launwriting about t rangers on se me against churns ng. write ow I ily
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QUESTIONS AT 2:34 AM I I I I
want to ask my mother how she is able to fall asleep want to ask her how she doesn’t regret being born a g Spending hundreds on beauty projects and pads an Her body a burden of money want to ask her about the joy she had when she was f The despair that coursed through her veins when The defiance she feels every time she takes him And the sadness she must hold in her heart at th So far removed from the man she once knew. want to ask her about how she felt when she first he How the thrill of being a new mother must have
I want to ask her all this and more, But she is sound asleep, So I will sleep too, And hope that I can remember to ask her in the
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at eight o’clock in the evening g irl, nd heating packs,
first married to my father his sharp hand fell across her face, down a peg, h e pathetic man he has become,
e ld my sister in her arms, felt
morning.
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ON BEING A GIRL
There are days when I absolutely despise being a girl Days when I wish that my father had impregnated my mot so that I had come out as a bubbly bouncing boy! Days when I hate the monthly cramps, the blood and yes, I do hate the PMS and the mood swings I hate the expensive bras, the ridiculous short shorts (b high) and the pricy sanitary pads I hate the half of the invitation where the formal wear And I especially hate the long lines in the bathroom I hate the catcalling at my bare legs The whistling at my tight clothes The blatant ‘rape jokes’ and The defensive “it was just a joke” that come after I hate that when boys say, “if you want equality, does t that my mother and my sister are the one in three women I hate that there are boys out in the world who have pu upon thousands of girls about “what guys like in girls adding fuel to the low self-esteem fire where thi Their skin flawless and Their hair long and luscious are the ideal I hate that it gets harder and harder every day for my
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t her with a different chromosome, Instead of a gangly grim girl
b ecause c’mon, my self esteem is not that
r of suits are reserved only for boys
r them hat mean I can hit you?”, they don’t know
who are victims of domestic abuse ublicly told (and thereby hurt) hundreds
s ” and “25 trends that guys hate” – thus in white airbrushed girls in magazines,
y best friend to accept who she is;
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Because she is not pretty enough Because she is not skinny enough Because she is not enough of a prude Yet not enough of a slut So boys will like her.
I hate that everyday I see that women are less empowered And more angry at themselves for not bein I guess that’s why I cut my hair this way. I want to be an androgynous being A mixture of man and women A hybrid of the two Just so I don’t have to Feel the slimy stares from “gentlemen” on the tra Just so I don’t have to Grit my teeth and bear it every time a man with in a skirt” on his tongue Just so I don’t have to Feel morally obligated to nicely turn down a boy resounding NO because for a girl, it is the lowest form of degradation to be called a girl.
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ng perfect.
ain sexism on his breath and the words “you’d look better
y when I’ve already told him twelve times a
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