Blue Monday Volume 4

Volume 4

Blue monday

!Blue Monday Vol4 ID6 FINAL 5.6.15.indd 1 5/6/15 10:04 PM

“I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.”

-Ernest Hemingway

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Blue Monday North Campus Editorial Staff

Blue Monday Literary & Arts JournalVolume 4

Sigma Kappa DeltaNational English Honor Society

& Art ClubBroward College, North Campus

Editor-in-Chief: Stephanie Ann NeubertManaging Editor: Maisha AkbarGraphic Editors: Alexis Azabache Lorenzo MohammedFaculty Advisor: Ariana Bianchi

Blue Monday is funded by Student Life and is a collaboration between SKD and Art Club. Special thanks to Student Life Director Joseph Pickering, Dean of Academic Resources Dr. Jeffrey Nasse, Wanda Sims in Printing, and Campus President

Dr. Avis Proctor.

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Sigma Kappa Delta

Sigma Kappa Delta is the National English Honor Society at Broward College, North Campus. In this Society, students can share their love and appreciation for English literature and language. Members have access to writing contests and scholarships, attend various conferences held around the U.S., and gather for poetry readings, plays, and other literary events. All majors are welcome.

Minimum eligibility: 3.0 G.P.A., 12 college credits, and grade of B or higher in a college-level English course. Lifetime membership fee is $ 45.00. For more information, contact Professor Ariana Bianchi at [email protected] or search Facebook for “Sigma Kappa Delta Broward College North.”

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Sigma Tau Delta Sigma Tau Delta/Sigma Kappa Delta’s annual inter-national English convention will be held this year in Albu-querque, New Mexico from March 18 – March 21. This year’s featured authors include Leslie Marmon Silko and Simon J. Ortiz, author of this year’s common reader Sand Creek. For more information, visit www.english.org to learn more about this and upcoming conferences.

International Convention 2015 Albuquerque, New Mexico

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Art Club is for students who are interested in the arts. Students do not need to be artists or enrolled in art classes. We provides hands-on projects as well as a place to share what is happening in the art and humanities culture. Mem-bers are often involved in community service using art and use the community to help themselves grow and evolve as art-ists. There are planned trips to local galleries and museums. Those who are art majors can find guidance from peers with similiar interests. For more information, contact Professor Lisa Rockford at [email protected].

Look for us on Instagram: @BCNORTHARTCLUB

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Editor’s Note Blue Monday strives to give the readers enjoyment as well as expose them to different genres of writing and art. We are proud that this publication encourages students to enhance and share their literary and artistic talents. I would like to thank the editorial staff and Professor Ariana Bianchi for their dedication, insight and support. We would also like to thank the English and Student Life departments for their continued support. We hope that you enjoy our fourth volume.

Stephanie NeubertEditor-In-Chief

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BC students may submit their original poetry, short stories, and art/photography at any time. Please complete a Blue Monday Submission Form for each entry. You may download the form online at www.bluemondaybc.wordpess.com, or you may request the form by emailing us. Please proofread your work before submitting. Works may be edited slightly. We only accept digital submissions. Please send the submission form and works to [email protected]. We would be happy to schedule a high resolution photograph of your artwork or sculpture if needed - just contact us.

HOW TO SUBMIT

Copyright © 2015 by Broward College. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States. Copying done for other than personal or internal reference use without written permission of the Xi Gamma chapter of Sigma Kappa Delta is prohibited. The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of Broward College editors, staff, administrators, faculty or trustees.

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LiteratureThe Curl of Fists Christine Beebe

Twisted Faith Stephanie Philogene

The Color of Nature Helene Cortes

LOTUS FLOWER Jemimah Fequant

The Most Stagnant Progression (The Paradox of Courting) Michael Dubreuil

Exposed Alexandra Castaneda

( 1 ) Our Flag ( 2 ) Revolt ( 3 ) Veterans Silvia Moreno

Temptations Kevin Desilva

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False Hopes Amanda Werdann

Legacies of Resistance Willie Coleman Flash Fiction: In Front of Your Eyes Michael Farmer

Found object: Sand Stephanie Reyes

Death is The Eternal Buzz JT

Concealed Abuse Heather West

Little Mermaid Stephanie Reyes

Royal Poinciana Tree Trish Kahn

A Mid-Semester’s Day Dream Alexandra Castaneda

The Welcome Back Alondra Barrueta

A Letter to Sunshine Jaime Osorio

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A Day in the Life Nathali Bernard

The Smell of Dirt: The Mooga Shlaker Flower Rosemarie Reid

Dwarf Hamster Mayhem Stephanie Neubert

SpotlightStudent Spotlight: Ellen Cohen

Faculty Spotlight: Dr. John Moscowitz

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ArtworkCover by: Alex Azabache

Luis A. Gutierrez

Lana Khabbazeh

Patricia Kobelin

Anekey Kelly

Alex Azabache

Chadwick Simpson

Karen Hulett

Lorenzo Mohammed

Beatriz Mongeua

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My heart was beating rapidly, painfully in my chest. My breathing was sporadic and loud in my ears. If only I could make myself small enough that he wouldn’t find me. I could hear the screaming from downstairs. He had been drinking again. I heard a crash and hoped it wasn’t one of my brothers or my mother. I hoped it was just something that he had thrown against the wall and broken to assuage the rage that seemed to envelope him when he drank. A small part of me, a part of me that I was ashamed of, hoped that if it was my mother or one of my brothers that he was taking his rage out on, that it would suffice, and he

wouldn’t come after me this time. I knew though, that this was rarely the case. I knew that he was just getting wound up. I tried to slow my breathing and my heart rate. I tried to swallow down the scream that kept threaten-ing to erupt from my mouth. Fear only made him worse, I knew. I had to try to stand up to him or to somehow fight back, small as I was. My brother had been teaching me some pretty good defense moves. He hardly ever beat up my older brother any more, since he had grown so large. My brothers artistic nature made it impossible for him to fight back, but at least he was mostly safe now. My sister, his past favorite punching bag, had wisely gotten married and moved

The Curl of Fists

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out. But now, that meant that I was more often than not in the scope of his crosshairs. I was becoming his new fa-vorite punching bag, like the blow up plastic clown kind we had down in the basement that was weight-ed on the bottom and kept bouncing back up for anoth-er jab. I wondered what my chances were of landing out of my second story window without injury. Not good, I decided, as I scoped out the height of my window. The driveway was below, and it was not a soft landing spot. I was going to have to take my chances. Unfortunately, all of my other escape routes were

blocked. I couldn’t go down the stairs, as I already heard heavy footsteps coming up them. He was coming for me. I was smaller, and more agile than he was. I was sometimes able to get around him and escape. I held on to this thought as I saw the door handle turn. He was here. The blue of his eyes shone in a demonic light. The snarl of his lips said his anger was targeted at me. The curl of his fists showed his evil intent, to punish me for deeds I did not commit. I had nothing but my wits to protect me. I said a silent prayer that I would live through this night of hell.

Christine Beebe

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Faith shot her eyes open to darkness and lay there trying to gather her thoughts. She batted her eyes opened and closed making sure that they were indeed open. Suddenly, she realized that her hands were tied and cloth with the stench of mildew was wrapped around her mouth. “What the hell is go-ing on?” she thought to herself. She realized that she was in a fetal position. When she tried sitting up, she hit her head on a hard surface. She started to panic. She began moving around to figure out how much space was available around her. She tried stretching her legs straight, that didn’t work. She scooted herself from left to right, lifting her bonded hands to feel her surroundings. Just then she heard the engine to a car start. Everything began to vibrate. “Oh my god, I’m in a trunk of a car.” Faith shut her eyes tightly trying to remember where she had been earlier. The car began to move. She tried to scream for help, but the cloth only muffled her sound. It hit her; she’d been on a date with a guy she’d met online. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Come here Mr. Archie,” Faith said, picking up her cat while making her way to her computer.

Twisted Faith

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“Okay, let’s check and see if we got any new messag-es today.” She sat down in front of her desktop computer with Archie sitting on her lap and reached for her hot tea but stopped. “Archie, did you move my mug around?” she asked, pausing as if she were waiting for the cat to respond. “Don’t give me that look, I know you did it.” Pointing her finger at her cat, “You’re in big trouble, mister,” She took a sip of her tea and put the mug back down. She stared at it for a moment then repositioned it. “Nope still don’t look right,” she said repositioning it again. “Don’t you dare touch my mug again, Mr. Archie.” She clicked the enter key to bring the sleeping computer back to life. There appeared a profile for an online dating website. “Yes! We have one new message,” she said while scratching her cat behind his left ear. Faith clicked on the message icon and began to read to herself. “He wants to take me on a date, Archie!” She said screaming, startling the cat. She picked up her mug and sipped some more. Once it was half way done, she put it back down and was not planning to finish it. She put Archie down on the ground and made her way to the bathroom. Her online profile did not do a good job at representing her. Her online pictures were taken when she was around 28. Nice tight skin, perky breasts, wrinkle-free skin, and full lips. Everything about her in those pictures was natural beauty. But that was not the case today. She was pushing 50. Faith stood in front of a full body mirror that hung on the bathroom door and undid her robe and examined herself. Pushing her bangs behind her ears with her fingers, she moved closer. Faith called them extra assistances. Her eyes first fell upon her now C-cup breasts. She poked at them, feeling the silicone underneath. Her face was frozen in time, not allowing any facial expression to escape. With help

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her lips still looked full and her bottom was nice and animat-ed. But nothing about her was natural any more. Not even the color of her hair which she kept dirty blonde. Faith thought she was not bad looking for her age. Usually when her dates realized that she barely matched her profile pictures, they still stuck around and went along, knowing that they were never planning on calling her back. And ironically, half her dates did not match their profiles either. So they would just get a laugh out of their mischief. Even though she knew that she was probably never going to get a second date, she enjoyed dressing up and being taken out to dinner. She also loved the company, especially since back home she only had Archie waiting on her. Faith made her way to the sink and began brushing her teeth. This guy was a new one she began messaging last week. They found that they had a lot in common. His name was Fe-lix. He was 32 and stood at 6’4. At least that’s what was said on his profile. He was very handsome with silky black hair that he kept in a short cut. He was just her type. “Hopefully I don’t scare him away because of my age. He would be great company, at least for the night.” She rinsed her mouth clean. She made her way back to her room and fastened the robe. She lifted open the blinders, al-lowing the morning sun rays to fill her room. Faith then made her way to the living room toward the front door. She checked on the locks, making sure that they were indeed still secured. “I have nothing planned for today. We should make this date happen tonight.” She made her way back to the computer and began replying to the message.

Faith took one long last look at herself in the mirror. She wore a daring tight, short red dress with a V-neck that stopped right at the top of her navel allowing her C-cup breast to play peek-a-boo. Her hair was in an up-do and wore a bloody red lipstick that complimented her pale skin. And her

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sharp stiletto nails, were too, stained with the same shade of red. “This might be the one tonight, Archie,” she said to the cat that was lying on her bed, cleaning himself, not paying her any mind. Bending over, she fastened the straps on her three inch black pumps and grabbed her bag off of the dresser. “Wish me luck Archie!” When she stepped out, the cool chilly air welcomed her with a kiss to the face. Felix was leaning on his car with flowers in his hand. Faith couldn’t see his face due to the headlight on his car that casted him into shadows. She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the headlights as she made her way towards him. When she put her hand down, he stood right in front of her, startling her a bit. He handed her the flowers and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to finally meet –” He stopped in midsentence and scanned her. “Wow, you look a bit…… different.” “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to update my pictures,” she said getting a tad nervous hoping that he wouldn’t leave. “I had that profile a while back ago. I recently just got back on it. I haven’t gotten the chance to do my updates.” He stood there just looking at her not saying a word, causing her to feel uncomfortable. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go on this date.” She said, handing him back the dozen red roses. He put his hands up refusing to take them back. “No, it’s fine. You are all dressed up and looking beau-tiful. Let’s go and have ourselves a goodnight.” “Thank you,” she said blushing. They got into his older model Lexus and headed to their des-tination. “This is a lovely restaurant,” Faith said taking her seat. “Yeah, this is one of my favorite spots. I can’t wait for you to try the food.” “I can eat Italian food all day,” Faith said rubbing her

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hands together. “When you told me that you had a cat, I was like yeah, I definitely need to take you out on a date.” Faith let out a puzzled laugh. “My cat is what made you at-tracted to me?” “Yeah, I always date women with cats because that usually means that they are independent, and most likely, lonely. That way, when I kidnap you for the night I don’t have to worry about anyone missing you. Plus I know you would love the company.” He said letting out a laugh. She did not know how to reply to that, so she let out and uncomfortable laugh. He took a pause and was giving her that same creepy stare that he gave her earlier. She picked up her glass and sipped on her drink nervously. “I have to give you another compliment. Your body looks amazing. If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” “I actually do mind,” Faith said letting out an awk-ward laugh. “I have to run to the little girls’ room. I’ll be right back.” She said getting up. When Faith got to the restroom she made sure that there was no one there. She stood in front of the mirror and checked herself and made sure her makeup was ok. “This is not going how I planned. I’m way over my head.” She said talking to her reflection. “He’s probably acting weird because I’m not what he was expecting. I should get straight to the point since small talk is not working. He is a handsome guy; tall and lean. He’s most likely having a prob-lem with the fact that I’m much older than he is. Well, he doesn’t know I’m about to change his world. I can’t wait to hear his grunts and see his eyes rolled to the back of his head and the pulsating of his body at the peak of it all. The best part will be when I get to watch him drift into a coma-like sleep as I lay in his arms.” Her inside was feeling hot by the thought of how the night might end.

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“Okay Faith, just go out there and make your move.” When she got back to the table the food was there and her glass was full to the top with Bloody Mary. “Wow this looks great,” Faith said taking her seat. When they were done eating, the waiter returned and collect-ed their plates, “What would you like for dessert?” “We are not having dessert tonight, at least not here.” Faith said winking at Felix. “Ok, I will be back with the bill,” the waiter said walk-ing away. “I can’t wait to see what we’re having for dessert later,” Felix said with a smirk. “I noticed that you haven’t touched your drink since you came back.” “Are you trying to get me drunk?” Faith asked with a devious smile on her face. “Of course not!” He said laughing. “Let’s make a toast,” Felix said lifting his glass of Manhattan, the dry version. “To what?” she asked lifting hers. “To us, enjoying the rest of the night.” They touched their glasses together and Felix made his liquor disappear in a single gulp. Just one sip of her drink and Faith’s glass was back on the table. “Come on. You can do better than that,” he said hand-ing her back her drink. “Okay, okay.”

She let out a nervous laugh. Raising the glass up to her face, she couldn’t help but feel as if she did not have a choice or she would come off boring. So she took a long drink but stopped half way. With a puzzled look on his face, he handed her the glass again, “You left the glass half full. You should finish it.” Putting it back down, she shook her head. “No, I like leaving my glass half way full.” The puzzle look was on his face again. “Besides you don’t have to get me drunk so we can

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have fun.” She said pulling out a small white container from her purse. Shaking the container she asked, “Do you pop pills- ecstasy to be exact?” His eyes grew wide, “Oh yeah, this just got interesting.” All of a sudden, the car came to a complete stop caus-ing her to roll a bit. “He must have put something in my drink. Felix was not trying to get me drunk.” She made the connection. Faith’s heart began to race as she heard his foot-steps coming toward the trunk. The last thing she can remem-ber was leaving the restaurant and not feeling good. She must have passed out after that. Felix opened the trunk and stared at her for a while. Then he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her out of the trunk and into the cold night. Faith commenced to sob as he dragged her in the direction of an abandoned house. The pathway leading up to the house was cracked, allowing lilies and sedges to sprout out and reach towards the moonlight. Wild vines formed twisted mazes on the side of the house and cobwebs finished the décor as they covered the corners of the doors and win-dows. They entered the home and went straight to the base-ment. It was a small, murky room. A musty, clammy odor welcomed them in. The windows were boarded up with dried out plywood that were falling apart. A grey concrete floor played host to two mattresses stacked on top of each other at a corner of the room and two small wooden chairs. The wall-paper was peeling off of the wall with black and brown mold dotting in clusters appearing in some spots. The room seemed as if it hasn’t been cleaned for decades. He forced her to sit on the mattress. “Don’t worry this will be fun,” he said sitting in front of her on the chair. The world was still spinning around Faith, making it hard for her to stay focused. He leaned forward and put his hand underneath her dress. She was too weak to try to stop him. He pulled off the thong that she was wearing and began to sniff it, taking in deep breaths. He picked up her purse and

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began going through it. He pulled out her lipstick, took the top off of it then licked it. He got hold of her brush and sniffed that too. Then his hand came across the white container. He pulled it out and placed her purse on the ground. “When I saw you earlier I thought, ‘Wow this woman lied about her age’. But it’s ok. This is different. I never had an older woman before. At least not one that was as hot as you.” He lifted the container up into the air, “Aren’t you too old to be popping pills ma’am.” With his free hand he began to unbuckle his slacks and stood up, allowing them fall to the ground; briefs came after. His erection stood high and long as he made his way toward her. “You don’t understand how fun you made this for me. Don’t worry, before you breathe your last breath, you will have the best time of your life,” he said untying her hands. Little did he know, she was slowly gaining her strength back since she didn’t drink the full dosage of his drug. With the white container now open, he put one of the small pills into his mouth. Making his way on top of her, Felix spread her legs apart and forced his way into her body, letting out a low moan. Suddenly, he jumped back up, holding onto his throat. White foam began coming from his mouth as he fell to the ground grunting in pain. His body began shaking violently due to the lack of oxygen until, finally, he became still. His eyes rolled back and he was now silent. “Wow, with this one I did not have to convince him to take the pills like the others,” Faith said getting off of the mat-tresses. “Cyanide always does the trick.” She lay next to him wrapping his arms around her. “You were right, I love your company.”

Stephanie Philogene

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Upon summer leavesDapple droplets of blood

Forbidden colors

Predators bewareA threat of mortality

Awaits the hungry

Nature’s diversionHidden succulent deceit

Survival tactics

The Color of Nature

Helene Cortes

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“The more powerful and original a mind, the more it will incline towards the religion of solitude.”

-Aldous Huxley


Dark, Silent, Murky, and Lost

Below I see a world above where creatures are swarming and living a life dazed

Submerged beyond the depths of my knowledge my existence isn’t prevalent until I am of nature

Rooted I begin to grow, sprouting my roots where they are firm I take hold onto my being

My habitat will not make me but I will make my habitat

Coming up from the murk that has troubled my growth the sun shines on me

Gently greeting me with a kiss, awaken me and inviting me to my new home

I’ve overcame I’ve made a place for my name

I Am Lotus Flower

Despite my environment I will always be above the waters of life

Why?

It’s my Nature

LOTUS FLOWER

Jemimah Fequant

Luis A. Gutierrez

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Dark, Silent, Murky, and Lost

Below I see a world above where creatures are swarming and living a life dazed

Submerged beyond the depths of my knowledge my existence isn’t prevalent until I am of nature

Rooted I begin to grow, sprouting my roots where they are firm I take hold onto my being

My habitat will not make me but I will make my habitat

Coming up from the murk that has troubled my growth the sun shines on me

Gently greeting me with a kiss, awaken me and inviting me to my new home

I’ve overcame I’ve made a place for my name

I Am Lotus Flower

Despite my environment I will always be above the waters of life

Why?

It’s my Nature


Lana Khabbazeh

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I ask youWhy am I compelled to impress?

Promulgate my better speech, and dress?Arrest my pride, explicate and differentiate myself from the rest?

I say, you are not above me

Indeed, I am better than the seaYet I am supposed to impose myself on thee?

I’d sooner leave like a leaf blown from off of a tree

Instead the fragmented facetious piecesof insisted speeches is somehow

supposed to prove my thesis?Well, I propose it never ceases

It is like screaming a whisperor stating reason to a hipster

Now, can you see the catachresis

The Most Stagnant Progression

(The Paradox of Courting)

Michael Dubreuil

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Patricia Kobelin

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It’s like having a tooth pulled and you’re the exposed nerve. Feeling every stimuli all at once. Being aware of the way you walk, how you talk and breathe. It’s breathing every breath believing it is bated. It’s trusting you’re always a pre-cise step ahead and always on point; when in reality you’re a day late and a dollar short. It’s like losing your “rock,” your “wall,” and protective shell. It’s pulling, no more like yank-ing your hair and feeling at wit’s end. Losing your edge, your focus, and clever retorts. It’s laughing and then you snort. It’s the embarrassing stutter and words caught, more like clenched in the middle of your throat. It’s appearing as pieces of broken glass, instead of precious gems. It’s running from your past, dodging your present, and avoiding the future. It’s being caught with you trying to catch a bated breath. It’s em-barrassment, ridicule, every mean and malicious thing ever said to you, in your own voice.

Alexandra Castaneda

Exposed

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Colombia’s colors are yellow, blue, redThey depict wealth, water, and blood that’s been shed

Yellow is larger than the blue and redAt least it is on the flag.

We’re proud of our gold, flowers, and coffeeEmeralds and biodiversity

Covered with rivers surrounded by seasBut with each day the red grows

In reality red is all we needFor an accurate representation

Of what goes onNot just in my country

In yours too

Our flag is red.

“The Indian Rebellion of 1857 began as a mutiny of sepoys of the East India Company’s army... and soon escalated into other

mutinies and civilian rebellions... The Mutiny was a result of various grievances. However, the flashpoint was reached when the soldiers were asked to bite off the paper cartridges for their rifles which they believed were greased with animal fat, namely

beef and pork.”

( 1) Our Flag

( 2 ) Revolt

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What is this that they give us?A greased cartridge

Greased with what, I wonder.

We fight for themOur lives are at risk

And still we get no respectAnd still our rights are violated

I’ll tell you my Hindu brotherThe package you ripped with your mouth

The grease that touched your lipsWas derived from beef

I’ll tell you my Muslim brotherYours came from pork

Join as brothers against our common enemyDo not accept that which they give youDo not give that which they ask of you

Unless you are giving it to end their tyranny

“More than one million veterans are at risk of becoming home-less, while tens of thousands of former service members are

already living without shelter... one in seven homeless people previously served in the military”

I gave it all for my countryMy youth, strength, sanity

I came back to find my familyHad fallen apart because I was an absentee

But this country doesn’t care about meIts people are all too busy

Being “free”

( 3 ) Veterans

Silvia Moreno 33


Each and everyday I see you I am stoked in the flames of desirefor your arms around me as I hold you in my embrace.I want to bite into your neck like a vampire into his victim,a wolf into his prey.I want to betray that trust that you had in me.I want you to know the monster deep within that I hide from you.I am not the innocent person you see and think you know,what you saw,what you think you know,forget it,you know nothing.It was nothing but a front.A front to suppress a demon,A demon in me that you awaken every time you walk by,A demon that wants to pin you against the wall,and look into your eyes,and as you expect a sweet smile and a flattering complimentI will pull your hair down,put my lips against yours and kiss you.I will take something and it wont be your breath,it will be your soul.With each motion of our lips against each other you will feel something.It will be me feeding you fear into your body,as you serve your body over to me.And when that moment hits where you find out this is so wrongyou will resist and try pushing me away,but you will fail

Temptations

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because then I let you know your place,stuck between a wall and my hard place.Encased like wine in a bottle, I will have you only at my plea-sure.Only then will it feel so right.I am not sweet.I am not kind.I am not nice.I am not even your boyfriend,but at the end of this poem,your body will be mine.By the end of this poem,you will be in a trance from my penetrating stare,you will be naked,you will be in my bed,and your body will lose control.My lips will be on your lipsno, not those lips,those lips.And right when you about to ....I will stop and leave your body in agony.I will give you body art with my bite marks.You will experience ecstasy through pain.With your hands restrained behind your back,I will part the Red Sea with my staffand have my way with you,then in the end when you are on your knees looking up at mewet and sweating with the devil's eyes,I will let my people go and send showers of blessings down upon you.The best part about it all is that you enjoyed every bittersweet moment of it.You are no longer innocent,20 percent angel 80 percent devil.Tonight, if they didn't before,the neighbors will know my name.

-Kevin Desilva


Sally was raised in New Jersey. She had a lot of friends and enjoyed living there until things changed. Her parents divorced, her brothers were busy with col-lege, work, and friends. Her dad was busy with work, so Sally was alone and able to do whatever she wanted. This included things she shouldn’t have been. It was a hard choice for a 14 year old to make, but Sally decided it was time for a change and moved to South Florida to live with her mom, stepfather, and grandmother. August was coming and she was going to be 19 and her father, Joe, promised he would come to Florida on October 15th for a visit and to buy her a car. Sally count-ed down the days of Joe’s arrival. When the day finally arrived Sally

was excited. She helped her mom clean the house and did the dishes by hand to make time go by faster. Just as she finished drying the last dish there was a knock on the door. Sally ran to the door knowing it would be her father standing there. She swung the door open and threw her arms around him, she was hap-py he was finally here. Sally’s mom invited Joe to have an early dinner with them so Sally and Joe could go to CarMax and get an idea of the available cars. They don’t have a CarMax in New Jersey only small inde-pendent dealers so this was a new experience for Joe. CarMax doesn’t “deal,” they give you a price and that’s the price you are stuck with. Sally and Joe looked at many dif-ferent makes and styles of cars and

False Hopes

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after 3 hours they finally agreed on 3 cars. The salesman printed out the information of the cars and Joe said because it was getting late and Sally’s mom had to be with them for the insurance information they would be back tomorrow morning. Sally and Joe left with the print outs knowing they would be look-ing elsewhere for a car. The next morning Joe picked Sally up and took her to breakfast. They caught up about things going on in New Jersey and how Sally was doing in school. Then they discussed where they would look for a car. He mentioned that before going to sleep last night he had decided he would lease Sally a new car. With a new car if there are any problems with it, the dealer would be responsible for repairing it. Before leaving the restaurant Joe called Sally’s mom, Mary, and told her they would be picking her up since it would be easier to call the insurance company if any other information that might be needed. Back in January, Sally was driving her mom’s car and it was rear ended by an elderly man from Canada. Florida being one of the no fault states doesn’t place blame, but they raise your insurance, or at least they raised Sally’s moms because of the accident. Joe had decided a Honda would be a good car for Sally so

they found the dealer and she picked out the model she liked. She took the car for a test drive and fell in love. She wanted the Hyundai Elantra. She knew her dad wouldn’t say no to her and the salesman led Sally, Joe, and Mary in to do paperwork. While the salesman was writing up the lease agreement, Mary made the call to get the insur-ance. Sally could see from the look on her moms face that it didn’t go well. The insurance company her mom was with didn’t accept leased cars. She would have to get another policy with a different insurance company and they couldn’t do that until the next day. The next day they made a call to get the new policy. It accept-ed leased cars but the cost was very high. Joe and Mary came to the agreement that with the help of the insurance agent, they would wait 6 months with the new policy then change to a lower rate policy. Then get sally the car she wants. Although sally wasn’t hap-py with this decision, she under-stood why it had to be that way. Joe was upset he had to break the promise to his daughter and when he expressed his disap-pointment to her, she told him it was alright and gave him a hug. He pulled away from Sally to look at her in the eyes and said, “When did you get to grow into such an under-standing young lady?”

Amanda Werdann

37


During 1954, towards the end of Jim Crow Laws, I lived most of my life in pover-ty. Raised by my grandparents because my mom had me at the age of fourteen and my dad was nowhere to be found, growing up was a constant struggle. Chaos was the norm in my com-munity, sad to say. At an early age, I told my grandparents that I was going to be successful and help inspire people to be successful as well. I decided to run track in middle school to get away from the gang banging, drugs, and incarceration. In middle school, I ran the 100 meter dash. My first

year running, I broke the school record by two seconds. I always thought I was fast, but I didn’t know I was that fast. With the Jim Crow Laws immobilized, but still lingering, white kids came to my neighborhood often, just to start trouble. They knew they didn’t have anything to worry about because the law and the police officers were on their side. On a casual day my friends and I would walk home from school or the park, mind-ing our own business, when suddenly we were chased by white males wearing sheets over their heads. I had to learn to run fast at an early age.

“Racism does not have a good track record. It’s been tried out for a long time and you’d think by now we’d want to put an end to it in-

stead of putting it under new management. ” -Thomas Sowell

Legacies of Resistance

38


Over the course of my middle school years, I tried oth-er sports but didn’t really care for them. Running track gave me a sense of freedom. Wind blowing in my face felt as if I was as free as a balloon floating away and not being oppressed by nothing or no one. Being a great athlete gave me the oppor-tunity to travel to different cities and meet new people. I loved every moment of it. When it came time for me to go to high school, I was kind of nervous because everyone seemed bigger and faster; but I didn’t let fear get the best of me. The first day of track practice the coach wanted all the freshmen who were try-ing out for the team to run the 100 meter yard dash. I lined up at the starting line with five oth-er freshmen, males. The coach told us to get in our starting positions and don’t move until you hear the sound of my gun. He said, “ready” raised the gun, then pop. I stumbled out of the block for about three steps, I gathered myself then I took off after everyone. I caught up with the runners half way through the race, then beat them by seven meters. The coach was amazed by what I had done. He

wanted to make sure I was the real deal, so he wanted me to run against his best runners.So, we went to the starting line, got ready, and the coach shot the gun. This time I didn’t stum-ble out of the blocks. I lead the race the whole time, and won by five meters. From that moment on the coach loved me. I had the same results in high school as I did in middle school; broken records and new faces. The school and most of the community loved me. After

my track season, my se-nior year, I stayed after school to get a couple laps in, as I normally do to stay in shape. One day I saw a man walk-

ing towards me from a distance. I paid it no mind because people usually come to the track to exercise. As he got to the edge of the track he called me over. I was thinking to myself, what does this guy want. He said, “I know who you are and I want to display your talent globally.” He asked me, “How would you like to run for the U.S. Olym-pic team?” My face lit up like a sunrise; I said, sure of course. The man said, “two months after your graduation date, I am going to have a plane waiting to fly you to Texas so you can train with theteam”. I went home

“I know who you are and I want to display your talent globally”

39


and told my grandparents the good news. They were excited that I had the opportunity to do some-thing positive with my life. After the grad-uation I went to a local restaurant with my grand-parents, owned by a white couple. We sat down and waited to be served. The server came to our table and said, “Just because you are this great run-ner, you think you can do anything you want? Well you’re wrong”. She told

us to go eat somewhere else. I shook my head and looked at her with disgust. Leaving the restaurant, I told my grandparents, “I don’t want to do anything to make this country look good while they treat us like animals.” I didn’t know if I wanted to run in the Olympics anymore. My grandparents said it was my decision, and they supported whatever road I decided to take.

Willie Coleman

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Author quote

Achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and that happiness, not pain or mindless self-indulgence, is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achieve-ment of your values.

Ayn Rand

41


“When is that pizza going to get here?” Jeffrey asked. Jeffrey Stevenson was sitting at home watch-ing ‘Revenge of the Slightly Larger than Usual Wasps III’ as he waited for the pizza that he had ordered to come. He had ordered the pizza 57 min-utes ago from Peppy Ronny’s Pizzas and, because of their policy of ‘delivered within 42 minutes or it is free,’ he knew that he wouldn’t have to pay for dinner tonight. He heard a knock at the door and paused his movie before

answering it. “Hello?” The man at the door said when Jeffrey answered it. “Finally!” responded Jeffrey with a glare, “I hope you know that I’m not going to be paying for that pizza!” “Actually I’m here to see if you could help me with my car… I’ve got a flat,” the man said, embarrassment causing him to turn the same shade of red as his hair. “Sure,” said Jeffrey, calming down now that he knew this man had not brought pizza, “but why don’t

Flash Fiction: In Front of Your

Eyes


Michael Farmer

you come in first, have some tea before you go on your way?” “Thanks,” said the man as he came in and sat down, accepting the offer of tea, “I see you’re watch-ing ‘Revenge of the Slightly Larger than Usual Wasps III,’ I love this next part.” “Oh!” replied Jeffrey, after he and his guest both had tea, “Do you want me to press play?” “No, that’s alright,” said the man, finishing his tea and taking, “I should proba-bly be going now anyway.” He said as he left.

“Okay,” said Jeffrey, “Goodbye!” With that conversa-tion being finished, Jeffrey sat back down and pressed play on his movie. As the scene resumed, he suddenly saw a familiar face. As his mouth dropped and his eyes grew wider, Jeffrey exclaimed, “That’s the guy who was just here!” Jeffrey thought about the conversation the two of them had and said in a flat tone, “That was really uneventful. You’d think that more would happen when meeting a ce-lebrity.”

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Diminutive and meager in size,

This granule is inconsequential

Lacking a proper dwelling,

It’s as good as a nomad,

Following the natives’ latest fads

With true grit and spontaneity,

It seeks carelessly for a fixed place,

Somewhere they’ll welcome and delightfully receive its face

Through much trials and tribulations,

Pieces have been chipped away,

Leaving a smoother and shinier exterior,

Much more fitting for the superior

And just when the grain lost hope of ever reaching Utopia

It stumbled upon the sea,

At last experiencing euphoria

Stephanie Reyes

Found object: sand

Anekey Kelly44



Many people fear death. Since I was little, I al-ways had the urge to challenge my mortality by doing things that risked my life. Feeling that adrenaline rush is what made life worth it. I began as a young boy, no older than five, by climbing tall trees to the very top where the branches could snap at any given time and the thirty-foot-plus fall could be fatal, but what a view and rush I would get at the top! The buzz would often leave my mind and body feel-ing electrified for hours, yet the buzz always ended, so my stunts continued. I had a lot of free time and not a lot of parental over-sight, so my tree climbing

continued, escalating ever more slightly, until one unfortunate fall severely dislocated my elbow and had me in a cast for months. My lesson was not learned; in-stead of abandoning tree climb-ing because it was dangerous, I took to jumping from high places. The tree climbing was no longer enough to satisfy my urge to feel a rush, so I progressed to running and then jumping off the roof of our two-story home. As I flew from over twenty feet in the air, I was alive again, and when I hit the ground, I instinc-tively hit with my feet first and rolled to disperse the force of gravity preventing any serious injury. I had mastered the fall. What a buzz I would have after doing something that crazy and

Death is The Eternal Buzz


surviving, but that buzz never lasts. I am eleven years old now and I get a Kawasaki 160 motorized trike that could go close to sixty miles an hour – an awesome but deadly Christmas gift. These trikes were banned after many people died because they were not stable and easi-ly tipped over. The first time I tried to drive it, I crashed into the bushes trying to turn. The trike felt like it was going to flip every time I turned a corner, but with time alone, I soon mas-tered this death trap and had it going sixty miles an hour, day and night. The problem was whenever I would hit a bump or try to jump it (yes I was dumb enough to try and jump things with this machine), the trike would flip, sending me hurling off it going sixty, which is where my roof jumping days saved my life numerous times. I would use the trick I learned to disperse the impact force by tucking into a loose ball and rolling as I hit the ground. I do not know how I survived every crash, but what a rush and sense of freedom I felt on this machine. So many reckless but successful maneuvers from my childhood led me to have a sense of impenetrability. My jumping

off things got even more ex-treme. In my teen years, I con-tinued my daredevil stunts. My neighbor had an above ground pool situated about twenty feet from her house. Of course this led me to be curious if I could jump off the roof and into the pool from that distance. I had always been able to jump really far; why not try to jump into the pool? I made the jump off the roof, which had to be perfect or I would hit the aluminum side of the pool, many times, barely clearing the sides. What a rush I felt safely landing in the water. The neighbor’s daughter would come out to watch my antics. I may have flexed more than usual during these stunts like usual, I started to push the jumping too far. I discovered buildings spaced ten to forty feet away from each other, each four stories tall. I would routinely jump the smaller gaps to get my extra adrenaline rush until one day I attempted a jump only to realize as I was about to push off the roof that this was not the easy ten or twenty foot gap, but at least twenty-five feet. I pushed off with everything I had, and my foot barely reached the edge of the other side where I slid and crashed onto the roof. I stag-gered up and looked down to the


concrete forty feet below. This time, I felt the electric buzz but also just lucky to be alive. By sixteen, I had discovered artificial ways of getting a rush. My friends and I would joke that “death is the eternal buzz” as we blazed the days away. Instead of jumping off my neighbor’s roof, I asked the girl to go swim-ming with me. We were about the same age, and I noticed that she gave me a similar rush as my child-ish stunts, actually better. We could be just sitting and staring at each other for hours and that intense buzz was there the whole time, even lasting long af-ter she was gone. The rush did not fade quickly like the rush I got from reck-less stunts, and I believed it would last an eternity. This was a buzz I could feel without risking my life. When it ended years later, the buzz did not, but not

having her in my life hurt more than anything I ever felt before. It felt like death, but this death didn’t come with the eternal buzz. Back to stunts, I grew careless. I miscalculated. In a flash, I was on the ground, but not the way I should have been. At twenty-one years old, I was lying on the grass in critical condition with paramedics all around me. I saw a glowing white light, and I was outside my body in complete peace, and I realized the most powerful revelation: it was just like when I was with my girl, staring into her beautiful eyes – quiet, electric, blissful. I felt no pain, no worries, like I was going home after a really long day. It was then that I knew. I had felt the divine with one special person, and death really is the eter-nal buzz.

Alex Azabache

JT

48


49


Shielded from my family.Living in my very own pain chamber.

Will I survive? Pride within.

Dying to come out.I want to be appreciated.

I need approval.Grief is given.

Heart is bursting.Words are shouting.

Silence is spoken.I need more time.

Be strong. I am woman hear me roar.

You shared your close secret with me.We can relate.

I understand your pain.My pain is now understood.

We are one. I now carry your pain, too.

Why do I care so much for you?And you care so little.

I am never approved of. It could probably be worse.I could be the persecutor.

Concealed Abuse

50


I feel so close, yet so far away. I keep this secret from my family.

You gave me something to hold onto.You are now immortal.

They never cared. I never shared.

Unknowingly, losing my self-respect.Never protecting me.

Failure.My eyes are no longer wide shut.

I care.

Heather West

51


52


Ellen CohenBroward College Student

StudentSpotlight

53


Cascading shimmering ruby hair, Splashing around without a care,

Purple shell bikini, Fin the color of a cocktail olive in a martini, How I longed to be from that same water,

In all my youth it’s all I sought after, Years have passed,

And now my views are broader, Hawaiian trips,

Boy slips, Music bumps, Bodies pump,

Jumps off the deep end, Summers were never better spent,

Sun gives me a golden glow, And in the water I go,

Yet every time I dive into that sea, Cascading shimmering ruby hair is all I see, For now I know I will always just be a girl,

And isn’t that just swell, It makes me want to twirl!

Stephanie Reyes

Little Mermaid

54


Karen Hulett

55


On the grounds of a park, ever so beautiful,Stands a majestic royal poinciana tree,

With blooming, flaming, red colored flowers,Reaching out to capture the afternoon breeze.

A gust of wind rushes by with speed,Where the richly ornamented tree,Makes dozens of flowers dismount,

Upon the earth’s plush green surface.

Noticing the flowers on the ground,It appears to me that they are tearful,

As their dead wilted corners curl inward.

My own mortality reflects in a puddle nearby,When I’m no longer my body and mind,

It is my soul that lives on and after death,It will return to eye this beautiful poinciana tree.

Trish Kahn

Royal Poinciana Tree

56


I live in anticipation that everything I hope for will go according to plan, but these are naive thoughts, especially since things never ever go according to plan. I learned to live in the moment and to stay in constant flight, always moving on the balls of my feet, like I said constant fight or flight, and I’m no lover or fighter. Or I’m a bleeding heart, plucked heart strings of a lover and a fighter for the absolute and utterly humane right for everyone to feel alright. Or at least a little better than alright. I long for the days when I can lay among daises and marigolds. To be in a state of ever-lasting euphoria. To feel the winds sway and move the emerald green blades of grass. Where clouds transform their shape to create circus animals on tight ropes and where the fruit is so soft and, heavenly sweet; it’s almost sinful to eat. Oh yes, do I long for summer. No more term papers, no more exams, no more staring, hoping for the minutes to move faster. I want to feel as light as a midsummer day’s breeze. I want to indulge in the warmth of a warmer sun on pale gold sands, and waters that glisten like sapphires. Yes, how I lust after road trips to different cities on different days. To dance to alien beats and be in sync with technicolor lights. To nourish an insomniac’s wish for sleep, to nap past morn-ing fading into noon. To marathon Netflix shows and movies. Here’s to days and nights we won’t remember with friends we’ll never forget.

Trish Kahn

Alexandra Castaneda

A Mid-Semester’s Day Dream

57


We stepped onto the field, the sky a purple-black dark-ness. Our shoulders slightly hunched yet our eyes were bright whites and our faces all set into the same expression-calm. This was it, our chance to prove ourselves. The seconds ticked by as we marched on. The birds began the songs of day and the orange streak peered through the dark. We could see the silhouette of the city and finally the outline of people. We straightened up. The waiting was over; we were being wel-comed home.

The Welcome Back

Alondra Barrueta

58


Chadwick Simpson 59


Istruggletofindthewinnerinthereluctantfightbetween my reality and my heart.Iwritethesewordsinhopesthattheyfindyou.Isendahugtoyourheartandakisstoyoursoul.Asunandstarofmylife,IpraythatyouarewithGodprovidingjoyandlightinHiskingdom.InlovingmemoryofKatieMcLamore. I hadn’t yet felt death’s cold embrace, but it brushed against my heart. I pulled up to an aban-doned stadium in Miami and noticed a flock of vultures congregating outside of the stands as if they were waiting for me.Hadn’t yet realized the awful truth. I went in despite the warning and enjoyed myself, surrounded by friends and graffiti. Hours pass by and

in retrospect, this could’ve been one of the experiences I could’ve shared with you.As I check my phone, I find out that you died. No warn-ing. No knowledge of when or how. Just the shatter of my reality.I felt my soul crush between the weight of your absence.You had been gone for 4 days and there I was...living. And just the day before you were instantly gone from my life, we had been discuss-ing when we were going to further our friendship. “Maybe next week,” you said. Why not that day?What if there was an expe-rience, what if there was a moment that I could have given you, that might have...just might have altered your future? As these tears stain

A letter to sunshine

60


my hands in the wee hours of the night, I cry in blind hope, desperate enough to believe my tears will bring you back. Crying because my mind refuses to accept the fact that I won’t ever see your heart-warming smile again, that I won’t hear the lovely lull of your voice. I never got to read you a poem and get your thoughts on it. and it sucks the only one you probably will hear is this one. Ironic how the girl who could provide the world with so much happiness...could make the world so sad. Or how this little gi-ant of a soul could intimidate me so.I don’t want to spring forward. Let me wind back the hands of time and break them.take the battery out of your car and in turn take you home and then maybe...you would still exist and this poem wouldn’t.You told me you’d stop the world to melt with me, so dammit why couldn’t we?.I didn’t even get to throw yo-gurt at your car. Or the chance to cap-ture a memory of us in a pho-

to.I never got to tell you my dreams...or hear yours. So many things left to linger in the air, caught in the transi-tion of a growing love.I hate this poem because my heart was with you. Please...come back.Don’t be a passerby. At least, since I seem to dream proph-ecies, step into my subcon-scious, promise me...Promise me I’ll see you again. And let it be true. As true as the deja vu I felt at the night of your memo-rial. My anxiety burns quicker than the candle that was lit by your loved ones that evening.But why did my candle burn faster than the rest? How much was left unsaid? I wish I met your moth-er under better circumstances. How can I remain positive and find my happy in the future... knowing you won’t be there to share it with? I find trouble ending this poem as I realize it re-flects how abrupt your life ended.A beautiful soul of 19.I wonder if...

Jaime Osorio

61


Microaggressions - brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults toward people of color. Or in layman’s terms, subtle racism. --

Beyoncé’s “***Flawless” rings through the room. She swipes her finger across the phone to turn off the alarm. She gets out of bed only to step right into a small puddle of cat piss. Wal-ter will be a year old in a few weeks, he is fully potty trained, but he likes to keep things interesting. She groans because it’s only 7: shitty in the morning and she can already tell it’s going to be a terrible day. Hopping on one foot, she makes her way to the shower. “It’s gonna be a long day,” she whispers to herself.

A Day in the Life

62


She gets to work three minutes late and her boss will not stop reminding her of it. She logs onto her register and sits at her desk, waiting for customers. It’s nine in the morning on a Wednesday, so she’s emotionally prepared for a long, boring day. “I told you twice already, you can’t wear your hair like that,” her boss says. “I know. My last scrunchie popped when I was putting it up this morning.” She rolls her eyes. She runs a finger through her extremely curly hair (it’s more of an Afro, really), in an effort to tame it a little, only to have it get stuck. It’s not her fault that the way the hair grows out of her head isn’t socially acceptable. It’s 12:30 now and there have been a grand total of seven cus-tomers in the store. She spent most of her morning watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix. The phone rings and she puts Buffy away to tend to the phone. “Hello, thank you for calling Metro PCS. This is Thalia speak-ing. How may I help you?” “Yes. Hello. I was wondering if you guys still carried the Gal-axy?” “Yes, ma’am. Which one? We currently have the S3’s and the S4’s in stock.” “The S4.” “Do you have a preference for color?” “Yes. Do you have them in white?” 63


“Yes, ma’am, we do.” “Okay, great. Fantastic. Can you hold one for me? I’ll be by in like half an hour.” “Sure, ma’am. No problem. Can I have your name and number, please?” “My name is Alice Morgan, and my phone number is (954)867-5309.” “Okay, Alice. I’ll see you in half an hour.” She writes the woman’s information down on a sticky note and sticks it on one of the S4’s in the back room. A half hour later, almost on the dot, the familiar bell that sig-nals a customer entering the store, sounds. A woman in her mid to late fifties walks in. She’s looking around for someone, but Thalia is the only person in the store because her manager went to go get change. “Hello ma’am. Welcome to Metro PCS, how can I help you to-day?” Thalia says. “Yes. I’m looking for Thalia? We spoke on the phone.” Thalia looks down at her nametag and says, “that would be me. Alice Morgan?” “Oh. Hello, you sound different on the phone.” “No. I really don’t think so. But okay. Galaxy S4 correct?” “Yes.”

64


Thalia goes to the back to retrieve the device when the store phone rings. “Hello, another wonderful day at Metro PCS, this is Thalia speaking. How may I help you? While she’s on the phone, Alice leans over the counter and whispers “I love your hair. Is it real? How do you get it like that?” While reaching her hand out to touch it. “Yes, it just grows out of my head this way,” Thalia says, duck-ing her head and swatting at Alice’s hand. If looks could kill, Al-ice Morgan would most definitely be a pile of dust on the floor. “Espeaky Spanish?” (Speak Spanish?) “Si Senor, yo hablo Espanol. Como lo puedo ayudar?” (Yes, sir, I speak Spanish. How may I help you?) “Si queria saber a que hora cierran hoy?” (Yeah, I wanted to know what time you close today?) “Cerramos a las ocho, senor.”(We close at eight, sir.) “Ay gracias, nena.” (Thanks, babe.) “No problema, senor. Que tenga un buen dia”(No Problem, sir. Have a nice day.) “Si. Igualmente.” (Yeah. Same.) She hangs up the phone and turns to Alice. “Sorry about that ma’am. Is this a new line or upgrade?”

65


“It’s an upgrade. I’m sorry, were you just speaking Spanish?” “Yep. Can I have your date of birth?” “It’s 06/19/1960. So, what are you?” She hates this question. She gets it a lot. She takes a deep breath and considers answering, “Human,” but decides against it. “Are you inquiring about my ethnicity?” “Wow! You are so articulate. Yes. What are you, where are you from?” “I’m from here. I was born here and I’ve lived here my entire life.” “No, you’re not understanding me, where are your people from?” Alice says, slowing down the last half of her sentence. She decides to just tell her because the woman was growing more offensive by the second, and at this point she just wants to be done with her as soon as humanly possible. “My mother is Dominican, and my Father is African American.” “And your name, how do you pronounce that? Thaw-lee-uh?” Alice asks, despite the fact that she’s been pronouncing it cor-rectly since she got here. “Taw-lee-uh. The ‘h’ is silent. You wouldn’t pronounce phone, pee-hone, would you?” Her boss takes this moment to walk through the door, “Here’s the change, I’m gonna go get lunch, you want rice and beans from Pollo?” “No. You know I don’t like rice and beans,” Thalia replies. Her

66


boss walks away and tells her he’ll be back in fifteen and she mentally prepares herself for the barrage of questions Alice is going to throw at her. “You don’t like rice and beans? You’re not really Spanish if you don’t eat rice and beans. I mean, what else do you guys eat?” “Well, there’s yucca, plantains, batatas, potatoes, bread, I mean the list is endless. Are you also gonna tell me that I’m not black because I don’t like watermelon and grits? Do you like SPAM? I had no idea that not eating a certain food negates a person’s race or nationality.” Alice has the nerve to look taken aback. Thalia is past the point of no return, she is frustrated and annoyed at this woman’s offensive line of questioning. “Do you even realize how offensive you’re being? I mean, I have never in my life felt so disrespected. Why would you even think any of the things you’ve asked me today would be okay to say to someone?” “I’m just curious. I always like to be informed.” “Yeah? Well you’ve come across as racist. I was not put on this earth to educate you, ma’am. If you have questions, ask Google. Your total is 636.84” Alice pulls her wallet out with a huff. She’s seething quietly like a chastised toddler. Thalia hands Alice her receipt and as she’s watching Alice walk out she says, “Oh hey, Alice? Have a won-derful day.” Every syllable dripped with sarcasm. Thalia glances down at her watch— only six more hours till closing.

Nathali Bernard

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As the smell of clean dirt rolls up to my noseLike a sink of clear-shiny bubbles rising up in the kitchen

And the day’s invisible dew dampens my exposed skinMy body cools down along with my cantankerous temper

Ability to reason rejoins my personaEthics becomes important once again and I do not severely

scold youYou caressed it as you picked it up without being told

That Mooga Shlaker Flower which took seven years to bloomEmbarrassed it was, to expose itself in full sun

Amidst the rosy red cheeks of childrenWith watchful parents at arm’s length

So many wild faces, that it chose not to emerge until the cover of dark darkness

It chose midnight to show its bashful-naked gloryI cherished the Mooga Shlaker Flower for a day

An unsympathetic reminderOne must take what they are given

The Smell of Dirt The Mooga Shlaker Flower

Rosemarie Reid

68


Karen Hulett

69


John MoscowitzEnglish Professor/Artist

Faculty Spotlight

70


Dr. John Moscowitz is a popular and beloved professor of English on North campus. He is known for his excellence in teach-ing, as well as his passion for film and art. Dr. Moscowitz has taught a wide range of courses over his esteemed teaching career of 35 years, 25 of which have been at Broward College. In addition to teaching, Dr. Moscowitz writes for academ-ic purposes as well as entertain-ment. He is the author of several textbooks, an erotic cookbook, and a series of fictional stories called the “Ice Cream Chronicles.” Another passion of his is baseball; in his prime, he played alongside aspiring pros. Explaining that

one must enjoy the process just as much as the results, he is a role model for living life to the fullest for both his students and peers. A writer and an artist, Dr. Moscowitz is renowned for his landscape oil paintings. Starting at the age of 14, he still makes time nearly every Saturday to paint. On the left are only a few examples of his vast collection of more than 300 pieces. His paintings hang in faculty offices on North and Central campuses and are exhibited around town. He is happily wedded to a fellow artist. His life is a testament that our hobbies and interests can withstand the test of time.

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Dwarf Hamster Mayhem

72


Houdini hamster escaped again.Lucky, was not so lucky,

looks like the cat found him this time.

While working at a pet store,the hamster cage called my name,

there was the dwarf, running a marathon on its squeaking wheel, stub leg and all, entertaining the

rest.I longed to take him home, but

the rules were no more pets,but magically, Sheldon Cooper

ended up in my room, and no one in my gene pool had a clue.

On Thanksgiving Day, Sheldon was looking rotund but

seemed to be doing fine.He enjoyed his food and needed

more, a hungry little guy.Sometime later,

there were some strange thingsthat appeared in Sheldon’s cage,

Sheldon Cooper was a Shelly in disguise. Suddenly, there were six

more mouths to feed.Eventually, the parental unit

found out and drilled some sense into me,

I was allowed to keep them, until old enough to be

moved.One month later,

the boys got evicted,their Mom couldn’t handle more

babies.The girls never seemed to get

along, and gave Mama Shelly a chewed up ear to go with her stub

leg.Hamsters are great pets;

they hide their genders very well and test your intelligence.

What starts as two can grow to four,

Or six....or even twenty two!

Dwarf Hamster Mayhem

Stephanie Neubert

73


Beatriz Mongeua

74


Lorenzo Mohammed • Maïsha Akbar • Alex Azabache • Stephanie Neubert Graphic Designer Managing Editor Graphic Designer Editor-in-Chief

BlueMondayStaff

75



Documents

Blue Monday Volume 4