2012 Arts Review - Suffield Academy
2012 Arts Review - Suffield Academy
2012 Arts Review - Suffield Academy
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SUFFIELD<br />
ACADEMY<br />
A r ts review<br />
2011-<strong>2012</strong>
Contributors<br />
Alyssa Fruce ’12<br />
Anna Strzempko ’13<br />
Annie Pitkin ’12<br />
Caroline Leonard ’12<br />
Caroline Vianney ’14<br />
Cheryl Kuo ’13<br />
Conrad Mish ’12<br />
Dyland Downes ’12<br />
Eleanor Kelly ’12<br />
Eliana Ferreri ’12<br />
Fredrik Randmael ’12<br />
Gina Nasiadka ’13<br />
Hannah Thrall ’13<br />
Izzy McDonald ’12<br />
Jaclyn Chalke ’12<br />
Jay Fields ’13<br />
Jieming Wu ’12<br />
Joanna Borg ’12<br />
Julie Doten ’14<br />
Lohen Parchment ’12<br />
Mack Montague ’13<br />
Mariam Ibrahim ’13<br />
Mikhail Kozak ’13<br />
Molly Stromoski ’12<br />
Paco Tarruella ’13<br />
Pixie Clauson ’12<br />
Pure Maleenont ’15<br />
Sarah Hong ’12<br />
Taylor Grand Pre ’12<br />
Teresa Sweeney ’12<br />
Victoria Kiarsis ’13<br />
Will Sartorius ’12<br />
Zac Czikowsky ’12<br />
Lexi Hildreth ’12<br />
Cover art: Caroline Leonard ’12
Pixie Clausen ’12
iChoose<br />
My whole life I have been going through and believing that a person has a very special<br />
power. And I am trying to use it well, almost everyday. It is a power to choose the path you are<br />
walking on. Everyday, you, me, everybody make small or big decisions that will affect your life or<br />
sometimes someone else’s too. Here is a story of a man who changed mine.<br />
Roman Kozak was born in what is now Ukraine and what was then the Soviet Union.<br />
He was an excellent student from the start. He got straight A’s only. My father’s patience and<br />
stubbornness and his love in reading opened almost every single educational door in front of him.<br />
He found his passion in Mathematics and Physics. Roman was keen on solving problems and<br />
equations in his spare time.<br />
After my father finished high school he got lots of offers from the universities. He went to<br />
a college that majored in physics and Roman was very successful in there. He even got a money<br />
prize for taking the first place on a nation wide algebra competition and that was really rare in the<br />
country back in those days. At Roman’s last year in college he suddenly changed his mind and<br />
with out money travelled to Moscow and applied to Moscow Theatre University. He got in. Roman<br />
was a successful student there, too, although he had many quarrels with his parents but he<br />
insisted on his choice.<br />
My father, after the graduation, immediately became a great and popular theatre actor<br />
and after that even more successful director. He had his own theatre, many loved him, and he<br />
enjoyed what he was doing. When I asked my father what did he get from that extreme change?<br />
“Happiness,” he answered. I did ask no more. I should have… My father died one and a half years<br />
ago. He was fighting cancer for 12 years. But he did not stop acting, directing and writing plays.<br />
His last year my father was working on a play and died two days after the premier. The play is still<br />
successful in Moscow, but that is not the point.<br />
You are asking me why did I tell you this story and what does it have to do with the power<br />
of choice. I’ll tell you. I did not want to show that your choice could only change your career. No.<br />
…My mother is a ballet dancer and a choreographer. If my father did not change his life, they<br />
would never have met and would never fell in love and create a family. They would not give me that<br />
love and they would not give me that joy and happiness that I was fond of. I believe in a power of<br />
choice, I believe that a person has a freedom to pick the path that he is going to walk through his<br />
whole life. I hope I am choosing the right one.<br />
Mikhail Kozak ’13
She’s Okay<br />
Her mother comes in to wake her up, but she sets the alarm for six minutes. Six is a good even number<br />
and she lays asleep but she is not really asleep. She is in the state between awake and asleep, but not the<br />
pleasant serene state, rather the rushed and fitful and scared and sporadic sleep of a person who knows what<br />
is waiting on the other side of her eyelids. 6 minutes left, 5 minutes left, 4 minutes left, 3 minutes left, 2 minutes<br />
left, 1 minute left of sleep and even though she’s technically asleep (but actually in a state somewhere between<br />
Hell and beginning the day) she can count down the passing time in her head. Time does not stop, even if she<br />
wants to stay in bed and even if she wanted to be All-American. She sits up and lets down her still-wet hair<br />
and it is cold in her room. It is cold, but not cold like it was back then. Not cold like it was when her birdlike<br />
shoulder blades held the weight of the world and cracked under the pressure. Reconstructive surgery in a<br />
comfortable hospital repaired those blades and added protection to them in the form of body fat…<br />
Reconstructive surgery, in this case, is cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and the Modsley Family Method.<br />
No, it’s not as cold as it was then and the pressure is still heavy on her shoulders but they are not in danger of<br />
collapsing anymore, nor can one see the thin outline of her blue veins under the surface…<br />
There is a pile of sweatshirts in the corner of her room and what the Hell is she going to do with those<br />
sweatshirts? They’re just sitting on the ground and taking up space and stressing her out and bugging her out<br />
and she could leave them but when she comes back the ugly sweatshirt mess will still be there. She stands…<br />
The knocking on her door is sudden but she is not startled because she’s reached a place of peace. Her<br />
mother sees her standing, with her eyes transfixed on the sweatshirts and she’s not sure how long she’s been<br />
standing there but it’s more comfortable than going and facing them and living. Her mother speaks sternly and<br />
its 7:15 and the roads are bad but she wants to know why she can’t just stay there for a while? The scented<br />
candle is burning and her room is familiar and safe and habitual and non-judgmental and she knows she could<br />
stay there for a while. She goes to breakfast. The sweatshirts aren’t cleaned up…<br />
Putting on makeup but she still cannot recognize the face looking back at her. Back then the face was grey<br />
and the eyes were sunken in and the cheekbones protruded and she looked hollow like a skeleton. Skeletons<br />
don’t tell secrets. The grey face was familiar and it would scoff at the face looking back at her. The face now<br />
is vibrant and youthful and even a little bit pretty, she thinks, and healthy and colored and the eyes are where<br />
they’re supposed to be…<br />
Her father turned her car on but she can carry her own backpack now on account of her shoulder blades being<br />
operated on with aggressive CBT (he used to carry it for her, back then). The car is running and the sun is<br />
shining and the heat is coming out of the vents (she’s going to be okay) and her dad is yelling and the dog is<br />
barking and the music is playing and life is happening. She breathes in and backs out of the driveway.<br />
Anna Strzempko ’13
Annie Pitkin ’12<br />
Love<br />
How plausible can it be<br />
To have an intangible force create<br />
Endless feelings of enchantment yet debris?<br />
The one thing that uses fate and destiny as its founding<br />
base?<br />
It lurks and waits for its next victim,<br />
Tugging like a piercing rope.<br />
Inching you closer to the forbidden kingdom<br />
That expands across this unworldly globe.<br />
Titillating the stomach of lovers,<br />
And leading them astray,<br />
To foolishly trust their significant other,<br />
Will not leave their hearts in dismay.<br />
It is a powerful force preying on those<br />
Who seek out the ending they once opposed.<br />
Lohen Parchment ’12
Caroline Leonard ’12
The<br />
Ledge<br />
Hannah Thrall ’13<br />
The bird sits on the ledge.<br />
As the woman says to the man,<br />
“The quiet is unsettling.”<br />
But the man turns away.<br />
And the woman continues to read<br />
Sylvia Plath’s, The Bell Jar.<br />
The man thinks, what’s in my jar?<br />
As he’s standing over the ledge,<br />
But he thinks over what he read,<br />
And wonders if that man<br />
Would run away,<br />
Due to an event so unsettling.<br />
Though the facts are unsettling,<br />
He decided he had a full jar.<br />
When he walks away,<br />
He thinks he hears the ledge<br />
Cry, “The true life of one man<br />
Is bigger than what you’ve read.”<br />
Now he begins to read<br />
About a story most unsettling.<br />
The story is about a man,<br />
Who’s sitting in a jar<br />
On top of a rocky ledge,<br />
Who thinks, “How do I get away?”<br />
Though he can’t get away,<br />
He thinks to the man,<br />
“Roll away from the ledge.”<br />
Otherwise his fate would be as unsettling,<br />
As that man sitting in a jar,<br />
According to what he’s read.<br />
So now this man<br />
Begins to turn away<br />
From his own tumbling jar.<br />
Due to what he has read<br />
He doesn’t want to be so unsettling<br />
As a man falling from a ledge.<br />
He takes one last look at the ledge,<br />
Then the man starts to run away,<br />
So his own story wont be unsettling.
Lexi Hildreth ’12<br />
February<br />
As my body lays on the cold pavement, I hear nothing. There is no one around to save me; there is no one around to<br />
protect me. I see my friend lifeless in the passenger seat. This is my fault; I did this. Around me there are trees without<br />
leaves, there are pieces of trash littered on the grass and in between bushes. Breathing becomes more and more<br />
challenging as the moments inch by. I am not thinking about whether I will live because I am almost certain I will not.<br />
My last thoughts drift to you; I see your face and I envision your smile. My last wish, as I slip into this never-ending<br />
sleep, is to impart one last thing. I just wish to tell you I am sorry. To express to you for the days following my own<br />
death, that I am sorry. Yet, I know there is nothing I can do. You will receive the news and be forever heartbroken,<br />
forever scarred. I just wish to relay the message to you that everything will be okay. But I cannot. I lay on the cold<br />
pavement in the middle of February and accept the inevitable end of my life. I close my eyes and I try as hard as I<br />
can to remember the way your arms felt wrapped around me. For a second, I believe I feel you. But then I am turned<br />
over on my back by an unknown force. I hear a gasp; I hear questions like, “are you okay?” I cannot utter a word; I am<br />
having trouble breathing. I do not open my eyes for I am too weak. Cold air brushes my face only to sting the wounds<br />
on my face. I can feel the blood dripping down my temples and catching on my ears. Lights hit my eyelids and the<br />
intensity passes through them. I may be found, but inside I am still dying.<br />
Victoria Kiarsis ’13
Jay Fields ’13
Caroline Vianney ’14
W.W.W.<br />
***<br />
Wrong Time<br />
The police officer arrived. He was in a hurry, his eyes were running back and forth. He put on a vest and opened the car<br />
door. He was medium size, dark hair, blue eyes and a small but noticeable belly was standing out of his light blue shirt. His<br />
legs were shorter compared to his body. He took out a gun and with small but fast steps he rushed into the glass doors.<br />
Blood and screams. He looked around and he saw people whose eyes were filled with fear and cold. He glimpsed at the<br />
floor. A man was lying down and blood was all over him. Police officers immediately bent down to check the pulse.<br />
***<br />
Wrong Person<br />
A young, tall handsome man walks into the office. With a big sigh he sat down at his desk and turned on the computer. His<br />
eyes were filled with boredom but he was too lazy to find any adventures. He took out of his leather bag some papers. Put<br />
on his black with white stripes on the sides glasses that he was still keeping since college.<br />
“Peter, go get a package for me.” His boss suddenly appeared.<br />
“ But that is not my job.”<br />
“Well, yes, but you can have no job here at all.”<br />
For a few seconds Peter was looking at his boss sternly. “Ok,” he said with a small and gentle smile.<br />
Peter walked out of the building to catch a cab. He had his own car but he did not want to waist fuel for this so called<br />
“trip”. He sat in the cab and said the address. Arrived. Peter paid the driver and exited the yellow car. He was choosing a<br />
song on his new iPod while walking through the glass doors.<br />
“Hey” somebody shouted so loudly that Peter could hear him, even though he was wearing headphones. “ What do you<br />
think you are doing?” Peter lifted his eyes up and saw a fist coming towards his stomach. He hits the floor with his face.<br />
“This is going to be an example to everyone here!” screamed the other man.<br />
Shot fired.<br />
***<br />
Wrong Place<br />
“This is going to be an example to everyone here!” screamed the other man.<br />
Shot fired.<br />
He did not even look at the corpse, he threw a bag to the woman “Fill it up”. She did<br />
not move. He glimpsed at her with his dark and sharp like a hawks eyes. Pointed a gun<br />
at her. “Move.” he said with a stern voice. So she did. Black pants and black t-shirt. His<br />
face was covered by mask so people could see only his eyes and unshaved, yellowish<br />
from the smoking chin. He took a bag and rushed out through the glass doors – the<br />
main entrance of National Bank<br />
Mikhail Kozak ’13<br />
Paco Llonch Tarruella ’13
Paco Llonch Tarruella ’13
The<br />
Haunted<br />
House<br />
Fredrik Randmael ’12<br />
When I was just a little child,<br />
There was a time when my mom<br />
Told me “son go out and play<br />
There is far more to do outside<br />
Than there will ever be inside the house.”<br />
So I went outside to play with my friends.<br />
In front of the house stood my friends.<br />
I heard from the window: “be back by five my child.”<br />
We ran to the woods, to an old haunted house.<br />
In the back of my head I heard the voice of my mom<br />
“Be careful out there, it can get scary outside.”<br />
But I had no time to think; it was time to play.<br />
There I was ready to play.<br />
Inside the house with my friends.<br />
The sun was going down, and it was getting darker outside.<br />
There were no lights inside. I was just a child,<br />
I thought to myself; I am supposed to be at home with my mom<br />
When it’s dark, instead I was in a haunted house.<br />
There were no lights in the haunted house.<br />
We ran through the house; scary and dark, when I realized play<br />
Time was over by now, it was time to go back to my mom.<br />
I yelled out: “CAN WE GO HOME?!” The response was laughter from my friends.<br />
I was scared alone in the dark. I was just a child.<br />
I did not want to go alone, because it was dark outside.<br />
At last I found myself all alone outside.<br />
It seemed like my friends had left the haunted house<br />
I could not hear them inside. It was not easy to be a little child.<br />
It was not fun anymore; it was not fun to play.<br />
I walked all by myself, leaving my friends<br />
At the haunted house, I was going for my mom.<br />
I was walking through the woods when I heard a scream, I yelled “MOM!”<br />
I was scared of the dark, and it sure was dark outside.<br />
I was angry for being left alone by my friends.<br />
I was scared now, I was never going back to that old haunted house.<br />
It was dark outside, way past bed time, kids were not supposed to play<br />
That late. We were just children. I was just a child.<br />
I was finally at home, at the door waiting for me was my mom. “What have you been<br />
doing outside?” She asked me. All I wanted to do was to play. Then came my friends,<br />
out of the woods. Never again did I go back to the haunted house, I was just a child.
The Sounds of Study Hall<br />
It starts off quiet and just the sound of a door opening and quietly shutting. And then it begins: the sounds of<br />
study hall.<br />
The sounds of sweatpants stuck in-between L.L. Bean slippers and the carpet, which turns a few heads because<br />
the inevitable question of who is walking by arises. Next the sounds of macbooks opening one by one. The<br />
accidental three seconds of a Katy Perry song is blasted from a speaker, and then all the fun begins. First a<br />
quiet whisper to find out what the homework was, then a comment about the teacher. The whispers turn into<br />
audible tones and a loud burst of laughter, which is quickly followed by little giggles astonished at how loud they<br />
had been. Once the laughter quiets down, the sounds of typing emerge. As if a army of nutcrackers is marching<br />
across every keyboard. The library really isn’t a place for quite time.<br />
Izzy McDonald ’12<br />
Run Away with Me<br />
My life is like a gypsy,<br />
Travelling everywhere,<br />
Always being on the go.<br />
Can’t afford to let the bad things,<br />
Bring you down.<br />
Find something good,<br />
Stay there awhile,<br />
But not for too long.<br />
Pack up your things,<br />
We’re going somewhere new.<br />
New, with new opportunities,<br />
New chances, new personality.<br />
No one knows you.<br />
Start a new. Show off past qualifications,<br />
And hide the bad.<br />
With all the changes and differences,<br />
Accept it, you won’t really fit in anywhere,<br />
Which isn’t always that bad.<br />
Different isn’t that bad.<br />
Joanna Borg ’12<br />
Chronicles of a<br />
Broken Heart<br />
Clenched jaw, my mind’s storming.<br />
Disaster hits, without warning.<br />
Beehive pissed, feelings swarming.<br />
Thinking back, when I was soaring.<br />
It was love, hearts unpouring.<br />
Now I’m stuck, sitting, mourning.<br />
Should I leave? Gone by morning?<br />
Is it still love, dormant, snoring?<br />
Just give up, stop imploring.<br />
But wait, we’ve been enduring.<br />
Small problems, worth ignoring.<br />
Jeopardize my happiness,<br />
What the hell am I snorting?<br />
Back to square one, tears pouring.<br />
Take it all in, just absorbing.<br />
Wishing for something, anything,<br />
Heartwarming.<br />
Teresa Sweeney ’12
Dylan Downes ’12<br />
The Surgery<br />
Sweat trickles down his soft features, his hands shake. He takes a deep breath, and looks<br />
back down at his patient. His hand inches towards the patient’s skull, his tweezers grasp<br />
the obstruction. Holding his breath, he meticulously extracts the ice-cream cone, victorious.<br />
Now, on to the funny bone, he thinks as his sips his apple juice.<br />
Zac Czikowsky ’12
My life is like a fairytale<br />
Full of dreams and hope,<br />
I may start off alone in the beginning but later on I will not be alone.<br />
I will meet the people who are willing to help me,<br />
I will meet the people who try to stop me,<br />
I will meet the people who no matter what, will always be there for me.<br />
And I know that the right thing to do should always be done,<br />
And no matter who I meet or what obstacles I come across,<br />
And even when I feel like giving up I will keep on going because,<br />
I know that no matter what, there will be happy ending.<br />
My happy ending will be like a prince and his princess riding off on a white stallion, into the setting sun.<br />
My happy ending will be like finding a place like peter pans neverneverland.<br />
This is my life, it is like a fairytale.<br />
Jieming Wu ’12
Eliana Ferreri ’12<br />
Which Charm Do You Add?<br />
My life is like a charm bracelet.<br />
There are different aspects to it<br />
each have their own unique realm,<br />
yet are connected together by one common thread.<br />
Some parts come premade,<br />
and I’m forced to stay with them,<br />
but I learn to appreciate them.<br />
I get to choose what to add in,<br />
where it goes,<br />
and how long it stays.<br />
I can switch things around,<br />
put in a new order,<br />
change up a color or two, whatever my heart desires.<br />
Some people try to add more to it,<br />
But its ultimately my decision what to keep.<br />
It starts off nice and shiny,<br />
but over time without proper care it gets scuffed up.<br />
I can show it off to people wherever I go,<br />
or I can keep it to myself<br />
and enjoy it on my own.<br />
Sometimes I can get a bit obsessed<br />
to have the newest, the best, the most,<br />
but I end up realizing<br />
I shouldn’t be customizing it so other people like it,<br />
I should be making it my own personal experience.<br />
Teresa Sweeney ’12
Solitude<br />
I.<br />
I’ve gotten used to it by now. It started out as pain, and loneliness, but I guess solitude gives you time to truly reflect<br />
on your life. Well, lonely in the sense that no one is around. I would never expect to live this long, but like I said, I<br />
guess I have gotten used to it. It’s incredible how fast one can use his instincts to survive. I never expected things to<br />
go this way…<br />
II.<br />
His name is Clayton. He is seven now, and has strong green eyes. He was taken away from me. He lives with my exwife<br />
about two hours south of here. Everyday I mourn to see him a little more than my extended time. The court ruled<br />
in her favor, as they sought me as a bad father. I want to be with him every second of the day. He is my everything.<br />
Without him I have nothing else to live for.<br />
III.<br />
The snow was coming down hard. It was a blizzard to stop all blizzards. I was hoping Clayton could come with me,<br />
but his mother said otherwise. I guess I was trying to get away from it all, hope to escape the reality of my horrid life.<br />
What I did not realize is that going to Colorado was going to make matters worse. When I entered the slope on that<br />
blizzard, I didn’t realize what I was getting myself into.<br />
The woods engulfed me. I had no control of where I was going: everything was pure white. When I stopped, it was by<br />
the biggest evergreen in the bunch.<br />
My leg was broken.<br />
The pain was excruciating. “Help!” I yelled. It was futile. I was lying under a foot of fresh powder in the middle of<br />
nowhere Colorado. My clothes were sopping, and I had no food or water. The temperature was probably about 10<br />
degrees, and the sun was about to go down. There were trees surrounding me at every corner, all concealed by a<br />
light white cover.<br />
I had no food, no water, nothing. “Help!” I screamed again. It was useless; there was no one around. I struggled to get<br />
up one more time and failed. My entire body was numb. The only thing I could do was curl up into a ball to avoid the<br />
wind. It was torturous.<br />
The first night was the hardest, as it always should be. The weather beat me.<br />
IV.<br />
“Court is in session!” The judge moaned as he slammed his gavel down. “This is to determine the custody of Clayton<br />
Henry Sagas.”<br />
My palms were sweating.<br />
“Mrs. Sagas please approach the bench.”<br />
My jaw clenched as I saw her stand up. She was going to take everything away from me today. She has already taken<br />
most of my money, and now she wants my child. I don’t understand how someone in this world could be so cruel.<br />
“Please state your case.”<br />
“My husband was never around for Clayton’s childhood. He was always working, or off somewhere else. Never home.<br />
I had to raise this child myself, without the help of a man who promised to be home. He was not even there when<br />
the child was born as he had a board meeting. Now that your honor, is preposterous. His work always came before<br />
Clayton and myself, and today it will still be the same. If you grant him custody Clayton will grow up in a household
where he is not loved.”<br />
“Objection your honor,” my attorney interrupted. “She has no right to say if my client loves his son.”<br />
“Overruled, precede Ms. Sagas.”<br />
“Thank you. If you grant full custody to me I promise you that Clayton will grow up in a household where the attention<br />
is one hundred percent on him. He will be my focus. He will be my little boy. That is all.”<br />
“Mr. Sagas, your case.”<br />
I stood up and approached the bench. I faced out to the audience. “My son was born on February 19th, 2001, the<br />
happiest day of my life. I wished to be there, but my work did not permit it. I swear to you, I have changed from that<br />
day. I want to be there every second of everyday with him. I have quit my job, and want to focus on all the mistakes I<br />
have made. I love this boy more than any of you ever could. He is my all. Maybe my wife has been with my son, but<br />
she is not a good mother to him. He does not feel comfortable in that household.”<br />
“Objection your honor,” my wife’s short stubby attorney shouted. “Mr. Sagas has no proof of this. He barely even talks<br />
to his son, nevertheless hears him complain about his mother.”<br />
“Is this true Mr. Sagas?” The judge questioned.<br />
“She abused me, so only even God knows what she will do to my son.” I said sorrowfully. I walked over to my chair full<br />
of disdain.<br />
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Asked the judge.<br />
“Yes your honor,” said the one in charge. “We find in favor of Mrs. Sagas to have full custody, and for Mr. Sagas to<br />
have limited visitation rights.”<br />
“That is all, court is dismissed.”<br />
V.<br />
I think I slept for about two hours under the evergreen: more than I expected. Sounds of owls surrounded me. The<br />
temperature was constantly dropping, and my leg was not feeling any better. I figured I had to do something about it<br />
or I might lose it forever. I struggled over to the smallest tree in sight. It was about six feet and dead. It was standing<br />
alone in the woods whereas all the other trees were standing in bunches. I went over to it and grabbed the strongest<br />
branch I could find. I used all my strength and tore it off the tree. Shortly there after I took the branch and using my<br />
goggle strap, and attached to my leg for support. It provided little relief, but it was something. I stumbled back over<br />
to my evergreen in attempt to sleep a little bit more. I was somehow staying warm, as I had numbers of hand and toe<br />
warmers. I coated my body with them. I knew I was not going to survive long out here if I was weak and tired: under<br />
the evergreen, I shut my eyes for just a few more hours.<br />
VI.<br />
The first time I saw him after the court case, seemed forced. His mother dropped him off and told him to not speak<br />
anything of what happens in the household. I know this because he did tell me. She abuses him verbally. Whenever<br />
he does something wrong, she gets inside his head and makes sure he feels like the smallest man alive. She does<br />
everything to hurt him.<br />
She did the same to me.<br />
We met in New York City on New Years Eve. We were both young and ignorant. I was throwing my money around<br />
attempting to impress her. She was beautiful. I remember when I first talked to her: she was unimpressed. She<br />
thought that I was just another guy with money.<br />
I saw her again the next night, at a banquet for my work. She looked dashing. I asked her out on a date that night, and<br />
she somehow said yes.<br />
Before we were wed we were the happiest two lovebirds in the world. We would do everything together, and were<br />
told on multiple occasions that we were a model couple: definitely a self-esteem booster. She was my wingman, and<br />
never left my side. She was there for me when my father died of a stroke. She was there every second. However, one<br />
day she told me, “Scott, if you do not marry me, I will leave you.” Dumbly enough I agreed.
We were married a month later, and that is when the abuse began. Everyday when I got home from work she would<br />
scream at me that I was never home to help her make dinner. She would scream at me about how I was not bringing<br />
enough income into the household. Everything was my fault.<br />
VII.<br />
When I woke up the sun was high in the sky. I was impressed that I slept for so long. I was starving. However, my leg<br />
did not feel as bad as it did yesterday, on the other hand the swelling had gone up. The snow had stopped, and the<br />
temperature was probably about forty. It was all in all a much better day. I got up using the evergreen as support. It<br />
felt good to stretch out. I figured I had to find food or I was certain to not make it through the day. For water I was just<br />
constantly eating snow. I guess that did the trick.<br />
I set up camp under the evergreen; well I don’t know if I would call it camp. It was my large ski jacket and my ski pants<br />
with my bag full of hand and toe warmers. I made a little hut, in which I would sleep the nights to come. I used a large<br />
branch and found numbers of pine tree branches for cover. It was truly cozy. After setting up camp I went to search<br />
for food. By searching for food I mean exploring.<br />
I walked for a few hours and did not make it very far because of my leg. I passed numerous berry bushes, but I felt as<br />
though it was way to risky to eat one. The snow was about up to my ankles as the harsh sun had melted the most of it<br />
from the previous night.<br />
Eventually I came up to tree, which had a squirrel in it. Now I know what you are thinking, but I was starving. With that<br />
said I had never killed a live animal, so I knew that this was going to be a feat for mankind. I took my pole and waked<br />
the small tree it seemed to be sleeping on. It was startled and jumped as far off the tree as it could. However the snow<br />
restricted its tiny legs so it could barely move. I jumped on top of it, a little abrasive I know, and held it in my hands. It<br />
was squirming vigorously. I felt so bad for the poor fellow. It was so innocent and who was I to take his life. But I had<br />
to. I grabbed its head strongly in my right hand, and pulled. The squirming stopped. I had conquered, man had won.<br />
VIII.<br />
When his mother dropped him off that day he ran into my arms. I squeezed him so tight, that I was sure he could<br />
barely breathe. I loved that boy so much. My ex told me to have him back home by nightfall. When he came inside we<br />
talked about his school, and how he has a crush on this girl named Isabel. We talked about, you know, guy stuff. The<br />
day sped by, as we could talk about anything we wanted. When he told me that my ex-wife was screaming at him, I<br />
told him that it would all get better soon.<br />
I was going to fix this, I knew it.<br />
IX.<br />
The snow, to my favor had become my best friend. No squirrel could escape my broken leg and me. That day I<br />
probably captured about seventeen. Not bad for a first day killing. When I found my way back to the evergreen I<br />
placed all of the squirrels underneath the tree. I had to cook them I know I did. Surprisingly I knew how to make a fire.<br />
When I was a kid my mother’s boyfriend at the time sent me to a nature survival camp. I am not joking around. I<br />
learned how to make a fire out of flint, rope and a starting stick. It was definitely a challenge as all of the other kids<br />
actually wanted to be there. But I learned. I got through a week of hell and I learned how to make a fire.<br />
After struggling to find everything I needed I set up the flat piece of wood on the ground. I cleared out all of the snow<br />
so there was a wide opening. It all started with a coal.<br />
X.<br />
After he left to return to his mother’s house, I knew I had to do something about this. He was growing up in a<br />
household where he was being verbally abused. I called child protective services and told them. We were scheduled
another court date, on my sons birthday. I wished to call it off, but my wife insisted that she not be made out a bad<br />
guy. I realized that what I had done was going to affect my son so greatly, that I regretted it in every bone in my body.<br />
Little did I know what I did that day would hurt me much more than it helped.<br />
XI.<br />
After I cooked two squirrels, which tasted horrific may I add, I felt extremely content. Having a full stomach was<br />
extremely satisfying. With that said I could now figure out how I was going to escape from these woods. I had no cell<br />
phone, and no way to contact the outside world. I figured the only way to escape was to keep fighting against all the<br />
factors against me. I was alone in these woods, and everything was working against me. It seemed as though I was<br />
the bad guy in a good woods.<br />
The next day or two I continued on killing squirrels I could find and eating them. I would hunt, eat snow, and sleep in<br />
my shelter. It was the life built for champions, but I am definitely no champion.<br />
The night of the third day I was determined that I had to get out of there, for Clayton. He thinks I betrayed him, and I<br />
have to prove him wrong.<br />
XII.<br />
At age seven being forced to go to two court cases would be tough for anyone. This one particularly would be hard<br />
for Clarence Darrow. One word to describe it: perjury. My wife lied through her teeth, and made me look like the bad<br />
guy. She manipulated me, and everyone around us.<br />
XIII.<br />
I packed my bags full of squirrels, and hand/toe warmers. I left my home of three nights, and made my<br />
journey. In a few hours my camp was far off in the distance. The snow actually made things more helpful as I could<br />
track where I was going. I am pretty sure I made some good distance on the first day. It was not snowing which was<br />
definitely a bonus. When the sun started to go down, I figured I should find a place to rest.<br />
I sought an evergreen tree five times as big as the original one. I approached it slowly, and when I got close enough, I<br />
blacked out.<br />
I woke up in the middle of the night in a large hole. One of my skis snapped in half due to the impact. It was amazing<br />
that I survived. I was under the evergreen. The snow had hit the tree, and therefore not gone under it. This called for<br />
this large hole I was in. I got in the feedle position. There was no way I was going to get out of here. I closed my eyes<br />
for a few hours.<br />
When I awoke I ate one of my squirrels. I had only six left in my bag. I ate some more snow to make sure I could stay<br />
hydrated. I had to get out of here. There was no way I would let my son find me in a hole, shriveled up and dead.<br />
There was no way. I had to get out of here. I had to escape.<br />
XIV.<br />
When she stood on the stand she claimed that I tried to call off the court case as I realized that I was lying. She said<br />
that I was abusing my son, and that’s why when he comes home from my house he is crying. She said that I do not<br />
deserve to ever see him again. She went on and on lying. Just thinking about it makes me feel sickened.<br />
The jury sided with her, and I was told that I could only see my son with supervised visits. When the words supervised<br />
came up, tears starting to flow out of my eyes. I could not help myself and I stood up and ran over to my son and<br />
attempted to hug him one last time. The bailiff grabbed me before I could reach him, and dragged me out of the<br />
building.<br />
XV.<br />
I attempted to use my ski poles to get out, but it was nearly impossible. I could not get out. However, I was not giving
up. I was put in this hole and I was going to get out of it. Somehow, no matter what I would see my son again and<br />
make things right with the two of us. Everything was pitting against me, but I still had will power. I still knew what was<br />
right in my heart and that I knew I had to make things right.<br />
I spent two nights and three days in the hole. I rationed out the squirrels so I could survive, on the third day I finally<br />
made it out.<br />
XVI.<br />
I needed to get away from this all. From the courts, from my wife, from everything. She had taken almost everything<br />
away from me aside from my freedom. I was going to use my freedom to escape, to get away from this all. After<br />
sometime I decided that I was going to go to Colorado for a bit, and figure out what to do with my life. I tried to call<br />
Clayton time and time out, but his mother would constantly answer and not hand him the phone. I decided to give it a<br />
rest.<br />
I bought a plane ticket to Colorado. I packed all my ski gear and the next morning I went to our ski cabin in Colorado.<br />
It was nice to get away from everything. At the same time I missed Clayton so much, and knowing that I was not going<br />
to see him for quite a long time just him and was haunting to me. I determined that the next morning I was going to<br />
wake up early and get fresh tracks. I packed a bag full of hand and toe warmers, because I have the worst circulation<br />
of any other person in the entire world. I went to bed early in preparation for fresh tracks the following morning.<br />
I woke up early, maybe about five o’clock and grabbed my gear. I drove over to Vail where there was not a soul in<br />
sight. There was one chair lift open. I put all my ski gear on and skated over to it. I showed him my season pass and<br />
he let me on. It was a blizzard, and freezing. My toe warmers had already stopped working. That or maybe it was just<br />
too cold for them to work. My toes turned into icicles instantly. My big plastic boots did not help either. When I got<br />
to the top I could not see a thing. The wind chill was probably about negative ten degrees and the temperature was<br />
about positive ten degrees. I was determined to get first tracks however. All of the trails it looked like had already been<br />
skiied. I was too stubborn to go down one of those. I wanted an untouched trail. I am a pretty experienced skier, so<br />
I was not worried. I found a trail in the trees that had not yet been skied. I entered on the right. When I looked back I<br />
saw that there was a sign next to the trail, which said, CLOSED in big red letters. It was too late now however. I was<br />
cruising at full speed dodging every tree. I felt like a god. I was on the top of the world. It was not until I nicked a tree<br />
and did a 180 that things started to go down hill.<br />
XVII.<br />
Finally on the third day I made it out of that hole. How I did it? Adrenaline, hope, and will power? I am not really all that<br />
sure. What I did is slammed one pole into the snow on my right as deep as it could go. At first it would not hold me.<br />
Eventually I found a patch made of ice. I hoisted myself onto my pole and got out of that damn hole.<br />
I now only had one ski and one pole. It was cold, really cold. I was starving, and had no food to eat. All the animals<br />
seemed to be in hiding due to the cold weather. I had no hope, and nowhere to go. I spent all my energy on getting<br />
out of the hole. However the hole was what protected me from the outside. The wind, and snow, everything. I had<br />
no energy to move forward at this point. I felt like I was going to die. I collapsed into the snow and sank deep within<br />
it. There is no moving forward at this point, I thought. I cannot escape here, I have no sense of direction and have no<br />
idea where I am. All that effort to get out of the hole, for nothing. I shut my eyes until I heard a noise.<br />
“Dad!”<br />
I picked up my head and saw my son in the distance standing there. I found the energy to get up and run towards<br />
him. Right before I got to him he started to run away.<br />
“Clayton, wait!” I screamed.<br />
I was ignoring all the pain my leg was dishing out to me. I abandoned my other ski and ski boots. My feet were beyond<br />
numb, but the sense of hope that fulfilled my body warmed me up. “Son, wait!” I could still see him in the distance.<br />
I was picking up more and more speed. Tears started to flow out of my eyes. I could not help it. I was so happy to<br />
see him, even if he was not real. I continued to chase him for about thirty minutes. I kept running until I collapsed on
a bump. I face planted hard. It did not feel like snow. I lifted my head up and saw that I was on a road. A road! A real<br />
road!! I started to scream and shout.<br />
Shortly there after came a large pick up truck. I flagged him down and he pulled over.<br />
“What is wrong with you son? It is freezing out and your not wearing any shoes!” Said the big burly truck driver.<br />
I told him everything that happened: the squirrels, the hole, my son, everything. I was spilling myself out to a stranger,<br />
a man that I have never met before.<br />
XVIII.<br />
That truck driver turned out to be one of my closest friends to this day. His name is Bob. I always make fun of him<br />
because that is such a cliché truck driver name. Bob hated truck driving, and said that he always wanted to be a<br />
guitarist. Now, many may judge me for this, but I took Bob back into New York with me. To this day he is preforming<br />
gigs all over the city with his band: The Saviors. I gave him the idea for the name.<br />
Anyway, that day, one year ago, Bob took me to a hospital where they casted my leg, and fed me. Even hospital food<br />
tasted amazing. I soon there after went back home with Bob on my left on the plane.<br />
My story became famous, and I got to speak the truth of what happened. I was able to tell the truth about my wife,<br />
and how she manipulated the world. For some reason, she came out clean. Maybe she said it for the publicity. Maybe<br />
she said it to become famous. Or maybe she said it because she knew that what she was did was wrong. Deep<br />
down, there is a good person in there. Deep down there is the woman I fell in love with.<br />
I live with Clayton now in a three-bedroom apartment. I was offered my job back at Lehman Brothers but I said no. I<br />
wanted to spend as much time as possible with my son. It’s kind of a good thing, as they went under pretty bad and a<br />
lot of people hate everyone that worked there.<br />
I work as a public speaker now. I go around and tell people my story and how my son was the only one who could<br />
guide me out. He was my light in a dark place. He is my everything.<br />
Will Sartorius ’12
Molly Stromoski ’12<br />
Valentines Poem<br />
I hate to hear, will you be mine?<br />
It’s said so often on Valentines Day<br />
I hate it so much; I don’t have the time,<br />
To stroll around, being charming and gay.<br />
I left my girl yesterday; I guess it was wrong,<br />
Yet she doesn’t understand just to leave me alone.<br />
She still thinks there’s love, so she calls all day long,<br />
But knowing me, do I answer? No!<br />
But I felt bad, just to leave her so lonesome,<br />
So I tried to explain that she was too needy,<br />
The best way to do so was to write her poem,<br />
So I started it off with a, Look sweetie,<br />
Roses are red<br />
Violets are blue,<br />
The truth is, it’s not me,<br />
It’s most definitely you.<br />
This is the reason for my Valentines Day hate,<br />
I have a girl no more, but I guess that’s just fate.<br />
Mack Montague ’13<br />
Unfocused<br />
My life is like the universe<br />
There’s so much to discover<br />
It’s like I’m trying one new thing<br />
Now I’m looking at another.<br />
I’m experiencing life<br />
Like the countless stars in space<br />
Houston tells me to slow down<br />
I punch him in the face.<br />
There’s a billion different reasons<br />
Why not to sit and wait<br />
Life will go on and pass you by<br />
So go and build your fate.<br />
Now unfocus yourself,<br />
Take a look around<br />
You’ll be surprised at what you see<br />
Try out all the things of life<br />
Cause some day soon you’ll cease to be.<br />
Zac Czikowsky ’12
My<br />
Life<br />
is like<br />
sailing.<br />
Depending<br />
on the day sometimes<br />
you get a nice breeze and it<br />
fills your sails and takes you to<br />
where you want to go. But sometimes,<br />
you get caught in irons, or in the middle of the chop.<br />
And the only way to get out is to keep trying. Try to catch another<br />
nice<br />
breeze<br />
before<br />
you<br />
get<br />
pushed<br />
Backwards.<br />
Sometimes you catch a wave going downwind and just get to cruise for a while. It’s the upwind that<br />
makes you work: tacking and roll tacking, trapezeing and hiking. You get tired and are sick of it and can’t<br />
wait for the big gibe around the mark.<br />
The relief of going downwind. Hopefully you can catch another wave.<br />
Izzy McDonald ’12
Gina Nasiadka ’13<br />
28
Muette<br />
C’est très difficile d’être muette<br />
Mais je le fais pour mon oncle<br />
Mon ami<br />
Pour les gens que je connais<br />
Et les gens que je ne connais pas.<br />
C’est très difficile d’être muette<br />
Mais ces gens se taisent tous les jours<br />
Aujourd’hui je connais leur douleur<br />
Parce que c’est très difficile d’être muette.<br />
Dedicated to the participants of D.O.S.<br />
Mute<br />
It is very difficult to be mute<br />
But I do it for my uncle<br />
My friend<br />
For the people that I know<br />
And for the people that I don’t know<br />
It is very difficult to be mute<br />
But these people are mute everyday<br />
Today I understand their pain<br />
Because it is difficult to be mute.<br />
Eleanor Kelly ’12<br />
Les nuages<br />
Les nuages dansent dans le ciel<br />
Ils tournoient, ils sautent<br />
Ils glissent, Ils dansent<br />
Pour moi, et toi et le monde.<br />
Nous les voyons avec plaisirs<br />
Parce qu’ils sont calms<br />
Et la vie n’est pas.<br />
Nous pouvons être comme les nuages.<br />
Sans Bonheur<br />
Qu’est-ce qu’est la vie?<br />
Vide<br />
Comme le ciel sans nuages<br />
La vie est vide sans bonheur.<br />
Clouds<br />
Clouds dance in the sky<br />
They swirl, they jump<br />
They slide, they dance<br />
For me, and you and the world.<br />
We Watch them with joy<br />
Because they are calm<br />
And life it is not.<br />
We could be like the clouds.<br />
Without happiness<br />
What is life?<br />
Empty…<br />
Like the sky without clouds<br />
Life is empty without happiness.<br />
Mariam Ibrahim ’13
Writer’s Block<br />
And at that certain time of day, the writer thought,<br />
“What story do I want to construct?”<br />
He moved his pen, made some words,<br />
But couldn’t find anything to say.<br />
And he sat back and looked at the world<br />
And opened his mind to creativity<br />
He sat there, waiting for the creativity<br />
To invade his thought<br />
Like waves from the oceans of the world<br />
Congealing into ideas, his construct.<br />
He fumbled for what to say,<br />
He fumbled for the words.<br />
Which words, which words?<br />
Which would he grasp from his creativity?<br />
Did he have anything to say?<br />
Something that would provoke a thought?<br />
Something he could construct,<br />
And share with the world?<br />
He sat there, immersed in his world.<br />
A world of peoples, thoughts, and words.<br />
Where words command, people construct,<br />
And thoughts spring from creativity.<br />
This writer, lost in thought,<br />
Just couldn’t think of what to say.<br />
What does anyone ever say<br />
To make a difference in the world?<br />
How is it that they take a thought,<br />
Write them down as words,<br />
And expand on it through their creativity?<br />
How do we construct?<br />
How do we construct<br />
What we say?<br />
Where is the writer’s creativity?<br />
As he looks into the world,<br />
He finds some words<br />
Then another, then another. He finds a thought.<br />
He knows what to say.<br />
He finds the words.<br />
He grasps at creativity.<br />
He’s given a thought.<br />
Until the End<br />
Its funny, people think they know, but they don’t.<br />
And there’s always someone there.<br />
But you still feel all alone.<br />
You try to fix everything that’s wrong,<br />
But this won’t be fixed, it never will be.<br />
It will be like this until the end.<br />
But this, this wont end,<br />
Nothing will just get better, things don’t<br />
Change. Your life will never be<br />
Better. You know that there<br />
Are always going to be things that are wrong,<br />
You know you’ll always be alone.<br />
But people tell you that you’re not alone.<br />
They tell you that it’s not the end.<br />
There’s still time to fix what’s wrong.<br />
And you’ll say to them, “Don’t.<br />
Don’t tell me I can fix everything. Not when there<br />
Is so much wrong, not when there will always be.”<br />
And you’ll hear voices saying back, “Be<br />
All that you can be.” But you can’t, because you’re alone.<br />
You have no one there,<br />
All trust in others has come to an end.<br />
People may think you trust them. But you don’t.<br />
Because you can’t, at least not when everything’s wrong.<br />
And everything is always going to be wrong<br />
So you will never be<br />
Able to trust. Besides, people don’t<br />
know what it’s like to be you. Alone,<br />
just waiting for the end.<br />
But the end isn’t near. So you have to just stay there.<br />
Stuck. Without anyone there<br />
Beside you. And you would be wrong<br />
To quit before the end.<br />
So you know you’ll just have to be<br />
Patient, waiting all alone.<br />
But never quit. Just don’t.<br />
So just wait there, and try not to be<br />
Wrong in any decision, just wait alone.<br />
For the end, But never quit. Just don’t.<br />
Pixie Clauson ’12<br />
Zac Czikowsky ’12
Their<br />
First<br />
Encounter<br />
Teresa Sweeney ’12<br />
Her eyes gazed over the crowd,<br />
The atmosphere was a stuffy haze full of music,<br />
For some reason their eyes met,<br />
Something changed within her stomach,<br />
It did a flip, a turn, and a loop, then finally settled,<br />
She realized he was the one she had waited for.<br />
This was the one thing she needed to look good for.<br />
She could care less if someone else saw her in the crowd.<br />
She had settled<br />
in her chair too long. She used the music<br />
to get by, stomach to stomach,<br />
until their chests met.<br />
Then their hands met.<br />
How long would they be dating for?<br />
Way too soon, said the gut-wrenching stomach.<br />
They had connected, everyone in the crowd<br />
could testify. The bass of the music<br />
seemed to have settled<br />
the two stranger’s heartbeats into the same rhythm the moment they met.<br />
Her face started to get red. What for?<br />
Well for one, there was an army of butterflies in her stomach.<br />
The couple couldn’t hear each other in the crowd.<br />
He took her to a quieter place, with less music.<br />
Then they finally got settled.<br />
His body close to hers, her hands settled<br />
in his. “It’s kind of crazy how we met.”<br />
She could actually hear his voice now over the music.<br />
“What would it be crazy for?”<br />
She could feel the jealous eyes burning from the crowd.<br />
Girls envious of her! Now this she couldn’t stomach.<br />
Her self-conscious hands grazed over her stomach.<br />
He gave her a look of assurance and the butterflies settled.<br />
“Don’t worry about those girls in the crowd.”<br />
Without warning their lips met.<br />
She had no idea what that was for.<br />
Was it the atmosphere, the food, the music?<br />
It wasn’t the music, the discussion was settled.<br />
There was no denying the feeling in her stomach the moment they met.<br />
This truly was the one she had waited for, the one out of the crowd.<br />
Paco Llonch Tarruella ’13
I Believe In<br />
I believe in looking at the whole forest, not just the bark of the single tree. I believe in the ability to see the whole<br />
picture, question, wonder, and ask why? I believe in this because it applies to so many different parts of a single life.<br />
The evolution of stepping back and getting the larger picture started when I was young. I started to look ahead and<br />
plan what I needed for a specific task, or what I needed that day. To be honest this started as a manifestation of<br />
general laziness. Planning ahead is what saved me from running back and forth getting what I needed. Instead, I just<br />
got what I needed in the beginning. It worked so well the planning stuck, and thankfully the laziness did not. Planning<br />
relies on seeing ahead, but this is only part of the picture; being able to see the past is also needed. I started to<br />
master this quite easily and simply because of memories. As I got older and older, I got more and more. With more<br />
memories I had more to look back to, and, once again, the looking back stuck. I was now able to understand the<br />
past and the future in my own way; this created a picture of what happened and what might happen in my mind. The<br />
only detail that restrained my present belief into a slow evolution after this figurative picture was formed is the most<br />
important part of a picture, and an English class concept that I never could quite get, context. Without context a<br />
picture is almost useless; the meaning could sway either way, like a ship without an anchor. Context was the anchor<br />
the picture needed. It took me so long to develop this context because I never really had to put anything into context<br />
until high school. Along with context comes the ability to ask, Why?<br />
Asking why was often seen as a nuisance to everyone around me. I started off just like any typical child: why this, why<br />
that? Basic stuff. Once again as I got older I began to understand on my own, and instead of asking why, I started<br />
thinking why and stopped asking it, much to my parents’ relief. This change was greatly needed, before I got the<br />
answer, now I gave myself the answer. I could now openly and endlessly wonder because I could answer the great<br />
question, why. With my anchored picture and the ability to understand what it meant, I formed the idea that I should<br />
take a step back and look at every decision, every choice I had and have to make, because every picture is different,<br />
and can lead you in infinite directions. This idea is now what I believe in.<br />
This belief that I hold so dear also helps out on the practical side. By taking a step back and observing what is going<br />
on, I can get a better view of what to do and how to do it. This applies most in solving problems. I have been told that<br />
my solutions are ones that have not been thought of before, and stepping back and taking a look at the whole picture<br />
is why. I believe this is a great trait for engineers and problem solvers alike to have, because it opens up so many<br />
different paths and opportunities that may have not been seen before.<br />
I use this belief in everything I now do and hope to do. It started forming as I was young and I hope to still have it<br />
and use it when I am sitting in my rocking chair with white hair. The ability to step back see, and ask “why?” has the<br />
potential to help so many with the new decisions, solutions, and the ideas it can create. No matter what, I hope to<br />
bring this wherever I go and pass it on, and hopefully, even if it is just slight, I can step back and see change that I<br />
brought for the better.<br />
Conrad Mish ’12
A Princess<br />
In Disguise<br />
Jaclyn Chalke ’12<br />
Princess Felicia blended in with the crowd,<br />
And when her subjects greeted her, no one bowed.<br />
They all said she was too ordinary and plain-<br />
She didn’t dress like other princesses, so she wasn’t treated the same.<br />
But Princess Felicia was still a princess, indeed,<br />
Even if she wore navy blue pants and a jacket made of tweed.<br />
And Prince Jacob still loved her a lot<br />
No matter what people said or what people thought.<br />
She told a little girl who asked why she wears what she wears,<br />
“My dresses are uncomfortable and my crown messes with my hair!<br />
A Princess doesn’t have to wear ’princess clothes’!<br />
There is no such thing! I do not own those!”<br />
“One day,” she continued, “people will appreciate me!<br />
They should not fuss and fret about how I appear to be!<br />
Why do clothes matter so much anyhow?<br />
Does it really affect them if I don’t always wear gowns?”<br />
The little girl smiled and gave the princess a hug<br />
“I don’t like dresses either!” she said with a shrug.<br />
“I think you’re perfect and you’re just what we need!<br />
You’re a trendsetter, not a follower; you’ll surely succeed.”<br />
Princess Felicia hoped that what the girl said would be true.<br />
She was tired of feeling left out from the whole royal crew.<br />
Wanting to prove her appearance, she drew and drew.<br />
She sketched unhappy princesses in nice gowns and shoes.<br />
The pictures were distributed around and around<br />
They were seen by the royals and viewed by the whole town<br />
Maybe it is the heart that matters, they thought with a guilty frown.<br />
Maybe, a princess was a princess, even with no dress or crown.<br />
Then, within the royal family, Princess Felicia noticed a difference,<br />
Not all of the princesses dressed with such a fancy stiffness.<br />
Everyone was happier letting their true colors shine,<br />
And the kingdom accepted their outfits time after time.<br />
Molly Stromoski ’12
Bad TV<br />
My life is like a bad TV show.<br />
Every day is like a new episode,<br />
Another problem arises,<br />
I spend the whole show trying to fix it.<br />
Sometimes in one episode I am done,<br />
I solve the problem, or I fix what was wrong.<br />
But sometimes it’s not that easy,<br />
At the end of the episode, I’m left with a cliffhanger<br />
I have to wait until the next day<br />
To try to right whatever situation has happened this time.<br />
But this is where the plot can thicken,<br />
Storylines from past episodes come up in the script again,<br />
I find myself stuck within one plot line<br />
That I just want written out of the show.<br />
The writer is just begging for viewers now,<br />
Making problems arise that no one will believe.<br />
But I don’t seem to have control over this matter,<br />
I am just an actress,<br />
Saying every line written for me, doing every action.<br />
But I am not alone,<br />
In every episode there are the same few characters,<br />
They are my closest friends,<br />
Filling my show with bad jokes and awkward moments.<br />
But they’re the ones that give it life,<br />
Without them, my show would already have been cut<br />
From the program, other shows would take my time slot.<br />
They keep me going.<br />
But after years and years, like any TV show,<br />
My day will come.<br />
My show will be canceled<br />
And all that will be left of me are memories or reruns.<br />
And only the ones who watched my in me prime would care<br />
to watch again<br />
And remember everything that happened,<br />
All my ups and downs.<br />
Brand New<br />
Life is like a toothbrush.<br />
Eventually it gets worn out.<br />
The bristles lose their strength,<br />
and the toothbrush becomes less helpful.<br />
But you have control of your toothbrush…<br />
Just because it gets worn out<br />
doesn’t mean you can’t replace it.<br />
A toothbrush is only effective if you use it<br />
to its full extent.<br />
But what would a toothbrush be<br />
without toothpaste?<br />
People in your life<br />
are the toothpaste.<br />
You can’t brush your teeth<br />
without the help of toothpaste.<br />
As you get older and you brush your teeth more,<br />
the toothpaste runs out<br />
and eventually it comes time<br />
to get a new bottle.<br />
Every year,<br />
new toothbrushes are created.<br />
But you should have control of how good yours is.<br />
The grips on the toothbrush are there<br />
for a reason.<br />
Use them.<br />
Taylor Grand Pre ’12<br />
Pixie Clauson ’12
Pure Maleenont ’15<br />
Imperfection<br />
It’s not the way you roll your eyes<br />
It’s not the way you snore at night<br />
It’s not the way you ditch me for the guys<br />
It’s not the way you have to be right.<br />
I hate that you know me so well<br />
I hate that you know my next move<br />
I love that you can barely spell<br />
I love that every day you improve.<br />
It’s the way you look at me<br />
It’s the way you kiss me on the nose<br />
It’s the way you say Grand Pre<br />
It’s the way you fold your clothes.<br />
I hate that you’ve stolen my heart<br />
I love that I love you, till death do us part.<br />
Taylor Grand Pre ’12
And I Keep Waiting<br />
When will I get food,<br />
I wonder. I get brought around<br />
Everywhere. Having nothing else to do, I lay down to nap.<br />
I lay, I sit, but all I do is wait.<br />
She’s always on the phone, my mother<br />
But little does she know that I do listen.<br />
Poor her on Fridays for when the workers come, she has to listen<br />
To me bark profusely. She evens tries to bribe me with food<br />
To calm down. It’s important for me to bark, does mother<br />
Not understand? There are people with weapons running around<br />
In our backyard! But no, she locks me up in a room, and I wait<br />
Until finally I’ve had enough, and its time for a nap.<br />
It always seems like I am taking a nap,<br />
During the night, and during the day, but I listen<br />
Carefully for when mother arrives home and I wait<br />
By the door, excited to greet her with my kisses and hope that she gives me food.<br />
After lunch, I run around,<br />
Bringing toys, hoping that I get to play with mother.<br />
She pulls out her car keys, time for adventure, just mother<br />
And I. We go to a place smelling of leather. She picks out a collar while I nap<br />
Inside her bag, and I wait while she walks around.<br />
She calls up her friend and mentions she’s going to the car, as I listen<br />
I pop out from the bag, excited to hear: “car” where I know I’ll get food.<br />
But no, not today, she puts me in my cushioned middle seat, and I wait.<br />
She takes me on a short promenade, but I take my sweet time, so she has to wait.<br />
Suddenly, I sense it’s 5 o’clock, time for my dinner, so I pull mother<br />
Back home as fast as I can, even if the leash is choking me, it’s worth it for the food.<br />
After dinner, I need to go outside and do my thing, and then take a nap.<br />
It’s been an exhausting day for a dog like me, but mom can’t leave the room; I listen,<br />
Even if she thinks I’m sleeping, I’m not. I am there to always follow her around.<br />
She goes and starts tapping at a screen, while I hang around<br />
Her, in her office. I sit patiently in her nice chair, rather than my office pillow and wait.<br />
We are alone in the house, but I listen,<br />
Just in case I hear something that might scare my mother.<br />
After all, I am the mini housedog. People can think I’m taking a nap,<br />
But actually I’m guarding, and waiting to be rewarded with some food.<br />
All day, I follow around my mother,<br />
It seems like forever when I wait for her attention, but in her comforting presence, I nap.<br />
I listen carefully, while mom is in the kitchen, waiting for the sound of dropped food.<br />
Joanna Borg ’12
Sarah Hong ’15<br />
It’s Not Enough<br />
Valentines Day sonnet<br />
You stand there, just right<br />
You’re all I crave,<br />
For you, anything, I’ll be your slave.<br />
I dream about you every night,<br />
That’s when my imagination takes flight:<br />
Your body withstanding the wave,<br />
Your handsomeness, oh Dave,<br />
Your skin reflecting the hot sun light.<br />
I lay in bed, just waiting,<br />
For that day when you’ll be mine.<br />
I swear, you’re my other half.<br />
If only we’d meet, we’d be dating.<br />
How happy I’d be, for you to be my valentine,<br />
It’s a shame you’re only a photograph.<br />
Joanna Borg ’12
Cheryl Kuo ’13
Snow Tunnels<br />
(a children’s story)<br />
So much snow is on the ground.<br />
It’s all I see when I look around.<br />
If I could, I’d play in it all day.<br />
It’s a shame my mom will never let me stay.<br />
Today I’ll build tunnels all under the snow.<br />
They’ll take me to a place that my mom will never know.<br />
I dig and dig for what seems like hours, and crawl out to take a rest.<br />
I go inside to drink hot chocolate.<br />
And count out as many marshmallows as my stomach can hold.<br />
I return back outside to finish in the cold.<br />
Im climbing back into my tunnel, which seems to goes for endless miles.<br />
I can’t help but think and smile.<br />
All of a sudden, right before my eyes, I came across a turn that was not mine.<br />
Around the corner was a large dug out room filled with all different candies laid straight in a line.<br />
I started to feast and sat in a great-carved ice chair.<br />
I turned and ate all of the gummy bears.<br />
With a stomach nice and full, I turned around and headed back home.<br />
I climbed into bed after I got in, to dream up a new adventure.<br />
I closed my eyes to fall asleep.<br />
Alyssa Fruce ’12
A Time of Thanks<br />
I Could Never Love<br />
Anyone the Same<br />
It is that steady hum beneath my ear<br />
As I rest my head on your chest as you talk<br />
The night away, there is nothing I fear.<br />
Small amorous mumbles, endless in stock.<br />
Your voice is echoing through your body<br />
Which then reverberates through mine<br />
Being in your presence, it’s so godly.<br />
The warmth from all your coos feels so divine.<br />
Our love radiates into the small room.<br />
I don’t understand you but I need you.<br />
Can you believe I was just in your womb?<br />
Your eyes gaze into mine, mine just as blue.<br />
We are both so calm, both breathing so deep,<br />
So soothed and warm, I could just fall aslee…<br />
Teresa Sweeney ’12<br />
Hours spent talking, laughing<br />
Countless jokes and witty banter<br />
Finally, a day of peace<br />
Maybe I belong, maybe it’s changed<br />
Sitting around with full stomachs<br />
Together, not talking, just watching<br />
The television bright, passing the hours<br />
It feels right, such peace<br />
Comfortable, lying down, happy<br />
I am forced to move,<br />
Anger now takes hold,<br />
Taking the place of happiness<br />
He’s bigger. I don’t care.<br />
But that wasn’t a smart choice<br />
Now he’s not happy, so mad<br />
But I don’t stop, I keep pushing<br />
Until he cracks.<br />
And so does my wrist<br />
Tears don’t seem to stop him<br />
Only becoming more furious<br />
My legs are kicked from under me<br />
I try to get up, but he won’t have it<br />
My hair in his hand<br />
He sends my head towards the floor<br />
Only then is it broken up<br />
Where were you before?<br />
When I needed you<br />
Of course nothing is explained<br />
I must have started it<br />
I always start it.<br />
So I am sent to my room<br />
But that’s no punishment at all<br />
That is where I have my peace.<br />
Pixie Clauson ’12
Julie Doten ’14
Cheryl Kuo ’13<br />
My Journey<br />
My life is like a road trip.<br />
It’s a long journey I take,<br />
Until I reach my ending point;<br />
My last stop.<br />
If I see someone standing by the side of the road,<br />
I would be more than happy to stop.<br />
I am willing to pick up someone along the way,<br />
A beautiful relationship could form unexpectedly.<br />
I have important decisions to make,<br />
Right or left?<br />
I should always try to do the right thing,<br />
Why would I want to hurt someone along the way?<br />
Why not be spontaneous?<br />
Do something unexpected.<br />
Visit someplace historic,<br />
Meet someone famous.<br />
What is the most efficient way to get there?<br />
I don’t want to spend my days doing nothing.<br />
It helps to be productive,<br />
Not to take to many detours.<br />
Make your life worth living.<br />
You can’t ever turn back.<br />
You don’t get a second chance.<br />
Leave your mark on the map.<br />
Alyssa Fruce ’12
Annie Pitkin ’12
<strong>2012</strong> SENIOR<br />
FROM LEFT TO RIGHT Caroline Leonard, Jaclyn Chalke, Eliana Ferreri, Will Sartorius, Conrad Mish,<br />
NOT SHOWN Pixie Clauson, Dylan Downes, Teresa Sweeney, Lohen Parchment, Eleanor Kelly,
ARTISTS & WRITERS<br />
Fredrik Randmael, Joanna Borg, Annie Pitkin, Jieming Wu, Alyssa Fruce, Izzy McDonald, Zac Czikowsky.<br />
Taylor Grand Pre, Lexi Hildreth, and Molly Stromoski.
Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.<br />
The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.<br />
Willa Cather (novelist)<br />
Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.<br />
Amy Lowell (poet)<br />
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.<br />
Leonardo da Vinci (painter, inventor)<br />
Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.<br />
Scott Adams (cartoonist)<br />
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MISSION<br />
<strong>Suffield</strong> <strong>Academy</strong> is a coeducational, independent secondary school serving a diverse community of boarding and day students.<br />
Our school has a tradition of academic excellence combined with a strong work ethic. A commitment to scholarship and a respect<br />
for individual differences guide our teaching and curriculum. We engender among our students a sense of responsibility, and they are<br />
challenged to grow in a structured and nurturing environment. The entire academic, athletic, and extracurricular experience<br />
prepares our students for a lifetime of learning, leadership, and active citizenship.<br />
NON-DISCRIMINATION<br />
<strong>Suffield</strong> <strong>Academy</strong> does not discriminate on the basis of sex, race, color, religion, creed, national or ethnic origin, citizenship, physical<br />
attributes, disability, age, or sexual orientation. We administer our admissions, financial aid, educational, athletic, extracurricular, and<br />
other policies so that each student is equally accorded all the rights, privileges, programs, and facilities made available by the school.