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The Sound of Muzak By Kris Kielich

Music is in a state of decline. It

seems like dime-a-dozen music is being

listened to nonstop. The list is endless,

and is too large to name here, but

everyday processed music and vocals,

with shallow lyrics and repetitive beats are

glorified on MTV and are churned out of

recording studios at a startling pace. But

there is hope. There are indeed many

bands and musicians taking a stand

against the shallow and mundane music

that has plagued us for too long a time. It

began in the nineties, with some of the

most important music out there coming

right out of kid's bedrooms, at the start of

the alternative music movement.

However, even that went into decline, as

hip hop and pop became the fashion.

Today, some of the greatest bands out

there are many no one has heard of.

These are the groups and musicians that

aren't afraid to experiment and try new

genres or sounds, and not stick with the

cookie cutter format. These are the

groups and musicians that play with time,

rhythm, ambiance, and tone. These are

the groups and musicians that have both

musical talent, and some of the most

deeply insightful lyrics I have ever read.

There are three main components of

music in particular that have been lost in

the new generation of pop music: lyrics,

musical talent, and the concept of an

album as an art form.

Lyrics are a lost art form in

themselves. Great, meaningful lyrics are

hard to find nowadays. They may hide in

the guise of a Taylor Swift song pandering

to 17-year-old girls about relationship

issues and how your heart was broken, or

how you found love. That's all well and

good, but there must be something more.

Sometimes you need to dig a little deeper

into lyrics. To me, the lyrics are the most

important part of the song. Lyrics are

great when they analyze the world you

see around you in your life, but in an

introspective way. By looking inside

oneself and analyzing the world around

oneself as well, lyrics are both beautiful

and true. Feelings and emotion combine

with facts and observations to create a

most magnificent and euphoric blend.

That blend is what the best lyrics in the

world are made of.

Musical talent is also obviously

important in making music, but it's

something that we have forgotten is

necessary. Nowadays, you can go into a

studio, sing, (or attempt to, doesn't really

matter) lyrics about whatever

(coughfridayscough), auto tune it, put a

simple beat on it and poof: you have a

catchy pop song with no talent, barely any

meaning, and that somehow everyone

wants to listen to. Great musicianship is

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characterized by those who aren't afraid to

push the boundaries in experimentation

and melody. Those who have the

capability to change time, rhythm,

harmony, and tone are the ones who truly

are great musicians, not those who waltz

into a studio, choose a repetitive beat, rap

or sing about going to the club and getting

drunk or some shallow love interest, auto

tune it, process it and gloss it up aren't the

real musicians here. It's those who break

out of the shell of routine and formulaic

ways. They are the ones who are

remembered.

The last piece of the puzzle lost is

the idea of album as an art form. The

whole concept of the album was simply to

package together a collection of singles.

But it evolved into something more. The

album became a way of telling a story

through music, and was meant to be

listened to as a whole. Great albums like

Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, or the

Who's Quadrophenia, or Radiohead's Ok

Computer, are remembered because they

tell musical stories through their

musicianship and lyrics. In today's day

and age of download culture, if someone

hears about Pink Floyd and looks them

up, they can simply download their whole

discography online. This in itself is not a

bad thing, the real tragedy is when that

same person is so used to the instant

gratification of today's mainstream music,

that they simply listen to 30 second

samples and if it doesn't suit their taste

immediately then...ERASE. Simple as

that. Great music in album form is meant

to be listened to as a whole, because it

doesn't just tell a story, but because it

takes the listener on a journey into

another plane, perhaps fictional, or

perhaps their own. Today's world of radio

singles just doesn't seem to cut it for me.

Now, to finish, I'll say this: Pop

music is not bad, nor is it not okay to listen

to. I have European dance music on my

iPod, and yes, it has shallow lyrics, a

generic beat, and auto tune. However,

that's not the point of this article. The point

was, just to show what exactly we've lost

here. It's okay to listen to pop or hip hop,

or country, or metal, or whatever. If it

makes you happy, then listen, and I have

no right to say otherwise. But this article

was simply written in the hope that people

might expand their horizons and look at

certain things they may not have before.

This was written for the simple fact that

one of the wonders of our world:

beautiful, meaningful music, is getting

forever lost in the endless churn and rattle

of the mainstream machine. And as of

now, not many people really seem to care.

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However If you wish “expand”

some horizons, here a list of my top five

bands/musicians that I have found

meaningful in my life:

Porcupine Tree/Blackfield/Steven

Wilson – Life changing for me.

Steven Wilson, the mastermind

behind all of these projects, not

only writes the most beautiful lyrics

and music I have ever heard in my

life, but also does it all himself. He

is a self taught guitar player, and a

multi-instrumentalist, and it shows.

Porcupine Tree, Blackfield, and

Steven Wilson's solo work really

use the album as art form concept

to the max. Their breathtaking

soundscapes form a blend of

metal, acoustic soft rock, ambient,

progressive rock and drone. Many

of their albums, especially

Porcupine Tree, have a theme.

Their “Fear of a Blank Planet”

album literally changed my life.

There is too much more I could

say about them, but just listen for

yourselves, and see if the lyrics in

that album and their others affect

you.

Radiohead – They started in the

90's with great alt rock, and never

stopped expanding from there.

Considered one of the most iconic

bands of all time, Radiohead

combines ambiguously beautiful

lyrics with a blend of rock that is

unlike any other art rock group out

there. Incorporating styles like

jazz, electronic, dub step, rock,

and ambiance, they truly are

perhaps some of the most talented

musicians of the new era.

Phil Collins / Peter Gabriel /

Genesis- Yes, yes I know. But

looking at an honest viewpoint

here, starting with Phil. Phil's work

may revolve around love songs,

but they are some of the most

heartfelt love songs I have ever

heard. A great voice and a great

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songwriter. Gabriel is a fantastic

art rock writer and singer, and his

music is also beautiful and very

creative. Genesis, the parent band

of both men, started out as

Gabriel's prog rock group, with

fantastic and complex songs. After

Phil took over, they still maintained

their greatness, but just in a

different way. Phil's Genesis

focused on more soft rock, but oh

what wonderful soft rock it is.

Opeth – If metal is your fancy,

then never fear. Opeth combines

extreme musical talent with that

classic metal sound. They often

mix unexpected elements into their

music, like classical guitar,

atmospheric sounds, and other

little surprises. I, being a metal fan

myself, find Opeth very refreshing

not just because Mikael Akerfeldt

has the best growls I've heard so

far, but because they actually

incorporate MELODY. Yes folks

you heard me. He can sing quite

beautifully, often uses gorgeous

soft passages of acoustic tones

and sweet vocals amidst the

grinding riffs and growls. The lyrics

are both fantastical and haunting,

and this is a metal band not to be

missed.

John Denver - As far as folk

music goes, I'm usually not one for

listening to too much of it.

However, I grew up with John

Denver, and his music truly speaks

to me. It really is beautiful and

meaningful in a way that we have

forgotten in this day in age. It

speaks of nature and childlike

innocence and imagination and

freedom. Those gorgeous themes

mixed with John's incredible voice

make for a truly euphoric listening

experience.

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The World Needs Clowns (Hahaha--oh s#@t he was talking about me!) By Mark Mandych

What are clowns for? Have you

ever really considered that question? I

tried to, and as a result I slept two hours

last night. Not because of the espresso I

consumed, but rather due to the

multifaceted nature of this problem. Many

believe that comedians are meant only to

amuse, lacking any productive motivation.

However, after long contemplation I have

come to the frightening conclusion that

clowns are the decisive element: beneath

the veil of hilarity every humorist has a

point to prove.

Indeed, in this very day and age,

laughter is especially necessary, defusing

volatile situations and probing sensitive

subjects from the cover of an innocent,

painted smile. In the words of Bill Cosby:

“through humor, you can soften some of

the worst blows that life delivers. And

once you find laughter, no matter how

painful your situation might be, you can

survive it.” During conflict, the ability to

accept the situation, laugh, and turn away

has an immense redeeming power on the

vengeful mind. For instance, when the

16th century terrorist Aki Schoenbauer lost

his favorite pointy stick, he had to resort to

less conventional means of killing people:

he proceeded to tickle thousands of

villagers to death. When brought to trial,

the judge and jury were highly amused,

and he was released immediately on the

grounds that he “was really quite creative

and original and charming.” Truly, during

less fortunate times many modern

comedians would have been

disemboweled by a furious mob but for

their comic nature (although some still

should be). When the skilful court jester

Dwen of Camelot told her majesty she

looked “rather like a horse” (in his humble,

lowly opinion), he was nearly

thumbscrewed, skewered on a pole, and

fed to the royal hounds. Instead, he

suddenly realized that he was, in his

words, “due for some major screwage,”

and so quickly added that he was “just

kidding.” As a result, the king relented

and decided to merely “chop the bastard

into a million pieces.” Humor may help to

de-escalate a crisis merely by allowing us

the option of taking jokes at face value,

the ability to disagree without negative

repercussions.

Humorists‟ opinions are vital to

society, even if this is not at first visible.

For instance, the wildly popular television

show “Saturday Night Live” is famous for

its mocking depictions of various

celebrities, politicians, and social issues.

And yet, once the laughter dies down,

there remain grains of truth relating to

actual problems in society: the vain

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celebrity sees her follies and corrects

them; the avaricious politician comes

under scrutiny, and is removed. Reggie

the Republican is said to have laughed

uproariously at “the one about the

bonehead, the toilet, and the state‟s

money” until he suddenly grasped the true

meaning of the joke. At which point he

uttered the exclamation printed as the

subtitle of this paper. In short, the public

is entertained, and becomes aware; so

too do those so fiercely caricatured.

We take them for granted, but

humorists are essential in today‟s world.

They say what no one else dares or is

able to say. They act as fools, while

teaching us how to act. And they capture

our minds, leading us to see the truth.

Laugh at the clown, for he is funny. Then

make sure he‟s not pointing at you.

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The sentence "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" uses every letter in the

English language at least once.

More people are killed each year by donkeys than in plane crashes.

If you keep a goldfish in the dark room, it

will eventually turn white.

No word in the English language rhymes with "month". "Orange" does have a

rhyme- "sporange", a term for a part of a fern.

On average, people fear spiders more

than they do death.

Only one person in every two billion will live to be 116 or older.

The shortest war in history was between Zanzibar and England in 1896. Zanzibar

surrendered after 38 minutes.

A cockroach can live nine days without its head, at which point it starves to death.

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.

Peanuts are an ingredient in dynamite.

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.

An average human eats 8 spiders in their

lifetime, most of them at night.

The name of every continent ends with

the same letter that it starts with.

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Prom! By Samantha West

It‟s official: the time is upon us.

You can smell it in the air and see it in the

department stores as they prepare for one

of their biggest seasons of the year. Good

guess, but it's not springtime (even though

the spring fashions are some of my

favorites): it's prom!

Prom, despite my previous

comparison to the spring, has become a

lot like Christmas lately. People (mostly

women) prepare for months for a single

much celebrated day/night, often flooding

malls and department stores searching for

that perfect dress, pair of shoes, etc.

Excitement fills the air as people compare

looks and plan parties and hunt for dates.

However, the most similar characteristic is

the cost - both prom and Christmas can

rack up bills to rival the national debt. The

key word in that previous sentence was

"can" - prom doesn't have to be

expensive. Just employ a few of the

following money-saving techniques and

soon our senators will be begging for your

secrets to fix up the state budget.

The Dress:

The girliest section first! Often girls

are tempted to splurge here and skimp in

other categories, but saving money on the

dress will allow for some cash in case of

an emergency. In any case, it's fairly easy

to get a great dress inexpensively. One

can always borrow - from sisters, cousins,

moms, aunts, neighbors, friends, and so

on. Dresses can be tailored if they're not

the right size, by stores in the mall or

acquaintances who are skilled with a

needle. Plus, borrowing increases the

odds that nobody will be wearing the

same ensemble. Another way to get a

cheap dress is to work the discount and

vintage stores. You'd be surprised what

you can find at Forever 21 or the Wet Seal

- even if it's not very formal on its own, it

can be made to look that way by adding

jewelry or heels. Vintage stores offer less-

expensive dresses that are usually one-of-

a-kind. This can also be done online,

through a store's website or even on a

larger general site like Craig's List or

eBay.

For the artsier girls, there's always

the option of making one's own dress.

This allows total creativity - you're not

limited to the selection available in stores!

Material can be purchased on sale at

Vidler's or JoAnn Fabrics. Make sure you

buy more than enough, in case of

mistakes or mishaps. For those who want

to add their own twist but aren't up to the

task of creating the dress themselves,

they can always "edit" an older dress

themselves. This means adding small

details - a lace trim or beaded neckline

can update a last-season dress to give it

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some flair! Beware: don't attempt this

unless you're absolutely positive you want

it there, because sometimes these things

are not so easily removed.

Hair, Makeup and Accessories:

Again, borrowing is a useful

technique here for accessories. Raid your

mom's, sister's, or friend's closet:

somebody's bound to have the shoes

you're looking for! Or you can wear old

accessories of your own - ladies, I hate to

break it to you, but unless you wore

something really crazy, I doubt everyone

will remember the pair of earrings that you

wore to your freshman Homecoming or

even to last year's prom. If you don't want

to go down that route, there is again the

option of making your own! Pick up pretty

beads and threading at a crafts store for

next to nothing and whip up some

gorgeous bracelets. This also applies to

corsages/boutonnieres - look up online

tutorials on how to make them with your

own flowers.

For hair and makeup, you can

always do it yourself rather than head off

to an overpriced salon the day of the

dance. After all, you know your face and

hair better than anyone and can therefore

probably do the best job. An easy and

pretty hairstyle: change your hair's texture

from its usual state (i.e., curl it if you

normally keep it straight and vice-versa)

and leave it down. It changes up your look

without using ten thousand bobby pins.

Makeup and hair products for this kind of

thing can be bought at drugstores very

cheaply. You can also put your friends to

work - have your friend from Cosmetology

at Ormsby do your hair/face for extra

credit - it's a win-win!

Guys:

The shortest paragraph of the

article. Men don't have a lot of options at

prom - they are basically limited to a tux

and a vest to match their date's dress.

Tuxes can get pricey, but some lucky

guys have a similarly-built older brother or

father that they can borrow from - tailoring

is not too expensive if needed. Bargain-

hunting is usually a must when tux

shopping. Spend a day comparing prices

at various stores or online. If you know

your sizes then you might even be able to

purchase one straight off the internet. If

for some reason you have bits and pieces

of a tux at home but are missing crucial

elements - if the vest ripped on your dad's

old suit, for instance - then perhaps a

skilled friend or family member would be

willing to recreate it for you. They could

potentially make your entire tux for you,

but as tuxes are much more uniform than

dresses this is much more of a challenge.

Either way, tuxes can be found

inexpensively, so don't lose hope, guys!

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Transportation:

Most people nowadays work the

standard black or white stretch limo with

tinted windows. If you choose to go this

route, then research, research, research!

There are so many deals to be found out

there. Look around, compare prices and

check out prom deals. Also, try and get as

close to the number-of-passengers limit

without going over. Usually, the price for a

limo is fixed depending on its size, so

more people inside means less per

person - but exceeding the amount of

people allowed will force you to rent a

larger, more expensive vehicle. If you

need one or two more people to drop the

price a bit, look for a few friends going

stag to add to the group.

Going without a limo can be just as

fun! Look into other ways to get there -

party buses, for example, are a blast, and

are less expensive and can fit more

people. Going in a friend's car (or driving a

group of friends yourself) is also fun, and

allows for more flexibility regarding

arrivals and departures. If you need gas

money, ask friends coming with you to

pitch in - it's still cheaper than renting a

limo.

The Pre-Party:

For many parties, the guest list is

usually limited to those riding in the limo.

However, if everyone is arranging their

own rides, many hosts/hostesses worry

about a large party getting too expensive.

Relax - if you have everyone attending

bring a dish to pass, then you won't have

to worry about exorbitant food costs and it

will make the guest list much more

flexible, as long as there is enough space

to accommodate everyone. Have

everyone confirm what they're bringing

with you so there are no repeats - having

20 bags of chips is not the best meal plan

for a party. Entertainment-wise, just some

music in the background is easy, as

everyone will be busy getting ready.

For photos, don't worry about

hiring a professional photographer -

parents and friends take photos just as

well. If you have a pretty area, use it for

photos - a nice background improves a

photo dramatically. If you need to, use

some old Christmas lights or flowers to

spice up the area. Be careful of photos on

the grass - girls' heels can dig into the

ground and ruin the shoes or possibly

cause someone to trip and fall.

Prom doesn't have to burn a hole

in your wallet (or your clutch purses,

ladies.) There will probably be one area in

which you will end up splurging - don't feel

guilty, it's inevitable. But hopefully you

now won't have to choose between your

prom and your college education!

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Untitled By Kaitlyn Duthie

It was a time of new beginnings as

I entered the doors which revealed the

blue devil emblem on the tiled floor. High

School. At that moment in time, I felt as if

all of middle school had disappeared and

right before me was a monumental

structure of maturity.

Time does go by fast, yet endings

always leave room for new beginnings. As

a senior, and sister who shares a

bathroom with other siblings, I am

prepared to leave the nest I call home,

and fly. I would have never grown wings

had I not taken full advantage of the

opportunities high school had to offer. As

with all instances in life, my high school

experience will always remain with me,

and the moments that helped shape who I

am today will stick with me forever.

If high school and I had a

relationship, I would describe it as an

emotional roller coaster ride. There were

times when I disliked everything about the

school; the smell of bacon lingering in the

hallways, the girls‟ bathrooms which do

not lock properly, the varied temperatures

in each wing of the building, and the

groups of student who block the hallways

while I attempt to be on time for class.

There were also moments which made

me smile and chuckle inside.

Yet those moments were only part

of my high school experience at East

Aurora. The other half was what I learned

in the classroom, hallways, from teachers,

students, et cetera. As with every senior

embarking on the college experience, I

will attend my choice of college, the

University of Rhode Island, in the fall of

2011, and put my level of maturity, and

knowledge of what I have learned thus far

to the test.

Some may ask themselves the

meaning of the word “test.” It may be as

repetitive as the weekly vocabulary tests

taken in elementary school or tedious as

advanced placement exams. Perhaps, the

definition and meaning are not as

important as how the test is prepared for

and taken. Normally, I take a copious

amount of notes and study until I know the

material as well as to mention it in an

average conversation. However, this test,

as it is called, will try out my strengths and

weaknesses, and I can continuously take

it no matter how many times I fail. Most

notably, the test which I and other seniors

will take is our choice.

My interpretation of graduation is

not only advancing onto a new chapter,

but deciding to take “the test.” The test

may consist of deciding to go to college,

obtaining an occupation, or just doing

something beneficial that pushes

boundaries and awakens self discovery.

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The past thirteen years of schooling have

prepared students for something all of us

can seek in ourselves: What we desire to

do with our lives and how we wish to live

life to the fullest.

It is quite common in class to hear

students‟ question why the subject matter

taught is necessary for their futures.

Questions, like, Why do we need to learn

logarithms? What is the point of using a

caliper for drawing class? Is it necessary

to study apostrophes in poems? I feel as if

I have come upon an epiphany when I

state how important all of the aspects of

school are. That is, they are only as

significant and valuable as the student

who learns to make use of them. In other

words, how the student will or will not use

the teachings on their “test,” in their

lifetime.

As mentioned previously, the test

which I will participate in after June 26th

can always be taken over with new

solutions and new answers. Once I pass

that test, I will of course find another

waiting for me as if I were leaving my

Global Regents exam and preparing for

the Algebra II Regents.

As of this moment until I graduate,

I will only have the knowledge I gained

from schooling, which has prepared me

for the next test to come (college for

myself). Similar to a regular test, I have

anxiety, I am dreading failure, yet I am

pushing for success. After my test has

been taken, I will celebrate momentarily,

but I will also prepare to endure the next

test.

On the day of graduation, I will

celebrate momentarily, yet I am not even

close to ending my learning. Graduation is

only an end to the education that was

chosen for me. After graduation I will

solely decide to continue my education. I

may be graduating from high school, but I

am not graduating from the life that is

ahead of me for I still have plenty to learn.

As with all humans, I will always grow old,

but I will never be fully grown up.

Halo By Gwen Cedfeldt

Halo gliding as a sweet balm, numbing

water that might dribble and quake at first

drowsy drink, nodding and not breathing

lightly

Halo of acrid white hits my irises, outlined

clear but insides misty, a curving haze

Wiping a weighted hand over my eyelid,

bleariness crosses the clarity with

scratching steps, sight blurs, and looking

up, the halo is behind one white scrim, a

blotch of translucence

It is an eye; a pupil a negative twin of the

sun. Iris formed of cloud. White soaked a

deeper blue. It stares for a moment, and

as if it were helium filled and vaporous

illusion, it retreats.

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Thumbs By Emily Neu With today‟s society slowly

becoming concerned with a potential

over-dependence on technology, we

seem to overlook a far more pressing

issue: our over-reliance on our thumbs.

The problem comes to life in daily

situations, in particular with texting.

Thumbs have the tendency, due to their

bulk, to cover up the keys on a cell

phone and make texting for the

inexperienced user excessively

awkward and slow-moving. With

smaller, more maneuverable, fingers at

our disposal, there remains essentially

no justification as to why the thumb has

become the finger of choice when it

comes to texting. With the fast-paced

world changing as quickly as it has

proven to, it has become crucial that we

humans severely limit societal

dependence on our thumbs and utilize

our other fingers and body parts to their

fullest potential.

It should be noted that the

modern world seems almost eager to

use their thumbs as a determination of

strength and other displays of power.

“Thumb wars” serve to stand as a proof

of masculinity and strength as the

individual who can push the others‟

thumb from the air can be justified as, in

some regard, stronger. But not to bash

this concept as it holds much relevance,

I simply criticize the use of the thumb in

this endeavor. Why is it that we humans

choose to rely on our thumbs, the

shortest and fattest of our fingers, to

prove our strength to one-another? The

middle finger remains in fact the tallest,

where the pointer finger is equally as

agile as the thumb. The use of the

thumb in “thumb wars” can be

determined undeniably over-rated as the

length and power of the thumb cannot

measure up to that of the pointer and

middle fingers.

Extending this idea, the use of

the thumb in determining one‟s success,

through the “thumbs up” has become

embarrassing to the human race.

Nothing more than a lump of flesh and

bone, the thumb has no right in

representing one‟s success, pride,

acceptance or accuracy. Picture this.

An ambitious soccer mom sits on the

sidelines of her child‟s first game of the

season. She remains anxious to see his

performance, knowing that she has

invested a large sum of money into his

equipment so that he could have the

top-of-the-line cleats and shin guards.

Her son quickly makes her proud as he

taps the ball past the goalie that

happens to be standing on the entire

opposite side of the net searching

hopelessly for the ball which has already

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gone past him. She could not be more

proud of her little Timmy and so what

better way to express her joy than to

shove a stub of flesh and bone towards

the boy and his cheering team. Well

that “thumbs up” certainly makes Timmy

thrilled to see his mother‟s pride –

maybe if he‟s lucky he‟ll even witness

two lumps of skin and bone pointed in

his direction! What is it that compels

one to feel that a “thumbs up” is

something to be proud of? At least

other expressions of joy and pride, such

as clapping, give off noise as a means

of communicating, where a thumb

raised into the air makes no sound. In

total, the use of a thumb to

communicate pride and joy is relatively

appalling as it is nothing more than

pointing a chunk of flesh and bone

towards one‟s location.

A thumb‟s impact on society has

quickly advanced beyond mere actions

as it plays a substantial role in

terminology and serves as a

representation of gardening success. A

person having a “green thumb” has

become known for being a successful

gardener and the thumb‟s coloring

reflects this ability. But what use is such

a term if any wanna-be farmer can go

ahead and dye their thumb an emerald

green, or not even emerald, but Kelly

green, forest green or lime green? How

ridiculous is the concept of dying one‟s

thumb green, no shade in particular, to

reflect on their gardening talents? Also,

to consider the topic on a more rational

level, the human thumb can often be

found discretely tucked away or hidden

in a pocket, glove, etc., so why is it that

society chose the thumb to color green,

when in fact an ear, knee, or eyelid

would be substantially more visible.

Thus, it has proven vital that we

recognize the importance of this issue,

with society finding a great dependence

of their thumbs, and in doing-so; benefit

farmers and consumers all over the

world by identifying a good gardener in

a highly more efficient manner.

Essentially, society holds an

almost uncharacteristic dependence on

their thumbs which in fact limits their

success and efficiency in the world. By

relying on thumbs to determine an

individuals‟ strength, success, and

gardening abilities, we are limiting

ourselves and our potential in the world.

By taking the first step and eliminating our

thumbs as the primary finger of choice

among texters, we can substantially

reduce the number of car crashes caused

as a result of texting while driving, as less

time would be spent looking down at a

phone if the much quicker and agile pinky

were put into use, among correcting other

flaws in today‟s world.

15

I Believe… By Elliott Martynkiewicz

I believe that running is freedom. It can

relieve stress and empty your mind.

Yes, during a race running becomes

physical, and even more mental. Many

runners push themselves to the limit to

get through “the wall”. Yet, something

about running provides a sense of

freedom. A feeling that you can

accomplish anything.

I recently moved. I packed up all

my belongings in one house and

brought them to my new house. While

unpacking I became all stressed out. I

couldn‟t find things, or didn‟t know

where to put them. I needed a break,

and wanted to get out of the house.

Then it came to me, I wanted to go for a

run. So I threw on a pair of running

shorts, laced up my shoes, and went. I

didn‟t wear my watch; I didn‟t care what

time it was or how long I was gone. I just

wanted to get out. So I went and went. I

probably ran 8 or 9 miles that day,

feeling great the whole time. My mind

cleared, I finally decided to go back

home ready to get back to work.

Running provides an escape from life.

When running, you can become free.

Running is a simple sport. It

does not require a ball, glove, bat, stick,

or helmet. Your main piece of

equipment? You, your body. That‟s all.

You don‟t really clothes, but they come

highly recommended. As for shoes, they

are not a necessity; many people run

bare foot, which is actually beneficial,

but running bare foot hurts many times;

either way you‟re still a runner. Running

is pure. Yes, running on a team is

grueling, trust me I know. You run

distance and speed, speed and

distance, with the sole goal of winning.

On race day, however, there is no better

feeling than the work you put in paying

for it. Winning that race, setting a

personal best or just knowing you did

the best with what you had. The sense

of accomplishment is surreal. For me,

there is no better feeling. I just can‟t wait

to do it again.

Your body was made to run, just

look at it more closely. The muscles in

our legs are made to move forward

faster, there are ligaments in your neck

to keep your head still; your body is a

running machine. So why is it that many

Americans are overweight? Look at our

ancestors; they had to run for a living.

They ran to chase food, they ran to keep

food, and they ran to not be made into

food. We are naturally born runners.

You just have to try it. Running provides

such a freedom; you feel no attachment

to the stresses of regular life. It‟s just

you and the direction you‟re going.

Being natural born runners should make

16

us want to do it more. It‟s programmed

into our DNA, we just need to let it

loose.

When I‟m running whether it is at

practice, or on my own, I feel that I‟m at

home. After a long stressful day of

school, I can‟t think of a better stress

reliever. It completely relaxes me. I

could run for miles and miles, and think

nothing of it. My mind seems to clear,

and I worry about nothing. I run on the

roads, through the fields, and on the

trails in the woods. Any can take me to

my final destination. Freedom. Running

on my own is even better. I can set my

own pace, don‟t have to talk to anyone,

and turn back whenever I want.

Granted, running with a teammate, or

even just a friend, is something I always

welcome; it isn‟t a necessity.

Running is freedom. It is one of

the purest sports, and our bodies are

made to run. When you are running, all

the stress can melt away, and leave just

you, and the earth you are running on.

13 Chuck Norris Facts By Jonathan McClure

The Mayans predict that Chuck Norris will lose his temper on December 21,

2012.

There were originally two Earths, but Chuck Norris got mad at one. It is now

known as the Moon.

Haley's Comet comes back every 76 years to ask if Chuck Norris is gone yet.

Santa Claus goes to the mall to sit on

Chuck Norris's lap.

Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.

Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.

Chuck Norris beat a brick wall in a game

of tennis. Gravity is space's way of keeping Chuck

Norris away from it.

One time, Chuck Norris explained sound to a deaf person.

Chuck Norris can win "Connect 4" in

three turns.

Chuck Norris won a staring contest with a mirror.

Chuck Norris built a motorcycle with

4WD.

Chuck Norris can leave a message before the beep.

17

Starsnake By Ben Kutina

Rako, Diesel, and I were hanging out in

the lounge of the Starsnake. Rako was

surfing the Galactic Web. Rako is

insectoid, don‟t ask me what species.

There are so many different types of

insectoid that they pretty much all fall

under the name “Bug”. This one has a

red shell and six limbs. The lower two

he uses as legs and the others are

arms. He‟s almost useless in a fight; I

wouldn‟t keep him around if it weren‟t for

his hacking skills. Right then he was

checking law enforcement databases for

any new bounties. “Hey Ander,” he said,

“check this out. You know Fayla Kazer?

He‟s dead.”

“Fayla who?” Diesel popped his

head out of the engine room. Diesel is of

an avian species called Cacks. His

feathers have a pattern like orange and

yellow tie-die. He is a mechanical

genius! He‟s made so many repairs and

modifications to the Starsnake I doubt

there‟s any of the original ship left. He

also lived on Earth for a while, so you

might recognize some of his habits.

Some place called Texas, I think.

Wherever it was he sure picked up an

annoying accent there.

“You remember Kazer.” I said,

“He gave us the tip-off we needed to

find „Red-Eyes‟ Rokke.” Diesel nodded. I

continued, “How did it happen?”

“Apparently he was smuggling a

bomb when it went off.”

“That‟s a load of Kawrick!” Diesel

said. That last bit was in Roladian,

Diesel‟s native language, but I don‟t

think I should translate it. “Kazer was a

hit-man, not a smuggler! And anyway he

gave up crime!”

“It is weird.” I said. Me and

Diesel exchanged a glance, and I knew

we were suspecting the same thing.

Okay, first you need some

background information. „Red-Eyes‟

Rokke was a gangster, THE gangster,

really. He got his nickname from his

eyes, which were burned red by acid in

a factory accident. He was the most

feared gangster in the galaxy until the

Starsnake Team brought him down. We

found him on a lava-swollen planet

called Kerrvix. In an attempt to escape,

he caused a volcano to erupt, burying

the streets in lava. He tried to fly off a

rooftop, but I shot him, and he

disappeared into the smoke. I ran to the

edge and saw someone get swallowed

by the lava. At the time I assumed it was

Rokke. But the thing is that ever since

he disappeared there had been so-

called „Rokke sightings‟. I thought they

18

were just myths, like Elvis Presley

sightings on Earth. But Kazer‟s death…

“We should check this out.” I

said, “Let‟s get the Starsnakes back

together. Rako, contact Baranco and

Oddball. Diesel, help me prep the

engines.” Diesel and I went into the

engine room. “What do you think

Diesel,” I said as I refilled the coolant

tanks. “You think it was Rokke?”

“Oh man, I hope not!” Diesel said

fervently. “If Rokke didn‟t kick the bucket

back on Kerrvix, we‟re in more trouble

than a big ole, fat turkey in November.”

I looked at him. “What‟s a turkey?”

Rako called from the lounge

“And where‟s November?” Diesel just

shook his head and chuckled. I turned

back to the engines. I knew that even

though Diesel was acting lighthearted,

he was dreading meeting Rokke again.

After all, Rokke was a Cack as well. I

was pretty scared too. Though I didn‟t

admit it to the news, taking down Rokke

had been our hardest challenge yet. I‟m

still surprised we weren‟t all killed.

Razona-4, Scrrik system.

The fourth moon around the gas giant

Razona held a high level of an element

known as Zellon. The Prime

Administrator of the Scrikk system made

prisoners mine for the radioactive

substance because it shorted out robots

on contact. They forced the prisoners to

dig out the dangerous stuff until they

were practically dead from radiation,

then they sent in another shift. That

was the situation Hyena was in. His real

name was Chekkar, but he was named

after the wild earth dog because of his

wild laughter. He looked human except

for the triangular ears that stood up from

his head and the golden eyes with

horizontal slits for pupils. He had been

in the mine for six long hours when it

happened. A vein of Zellon ignited in

front of him, shorting out the droid that

was guarding him and causing the

tunnel to cave in. He ran, barely

escaping the collapse. He barely had

time to cackle in triumph when a

collector droid grabbed him and shoved

him into the cargo hold of a Zellon

freighter. He stood up and looked

around the tank. Then a jolt laid him on

the floor again. The freighter was

moving. He sat up and started giggling

manically to himself. He might have

been crazy, but he could tell what was

going on. It would take a day or two to

dig through all that rock. Even if they

bothered, the radiation from the Zellon

would have turned all the prisoners into

glowing green mush by then. They

would have no way of knowing he was

not among the victims. He stretched

19

himself out and put his arms behind his

head. This has got ‘Red-Eyes’ Rokke

written all over it. He thought. He

cackled wildly, his laughs echoing

around the empty tank.

To be continued….

By Spencer McGowan

20

RACHEL‟S REVIEW

By Rachel Cocca

Memoirs of A Geisha:

Movie vs. Book

After reading Memoirs of a Geisha

by Arthur Golden, I was anxious to see the

renowned movie. Directed by Rob Marshall,

Nominated for six academy awards and

winning three, I was expecting a lot. The

story is of Chiyo Sakamoto, a young girl

sold to the geisha community by her father

who faces incredible difficulties ranging from

a vexatious older geisha to losing her entire

family. Her life seems to be all about

perseverance until she meets the Chairman.

He becomes her ambition and everything

she works for from then on.

The book was incredibly descriptive

and very emotional. Golden writes from the

eyes of Chiyo herself, which really adds to

the story. The novel begins through

innocent eyes and as it goes on you feel as

though you are growing with Chiyo as her

thoughts and opinions expand. The one

thing I really appreciated in the book that

was not shown in the movie was the

thoughts of Chiyo. Her opinions of

everything going on really helped the

formation of the story and without them the

core of the story was lost throughout the

movie.

Overall both the book and movie

were beautiful. I would definitely

recommend reading the book prior to

watching the movie because it really

provides insight into the thoughts of Chiyo

that the movie lacks. I would rate this book

five out of five stars, while the movie four

out of five stars.

Remember When By Becky Nolan Cool nostalgia fills my core. Waves of emotions lapping upon the shore. Mind wanders again as before, As cool nostalgia flees once more.

21

Heartbeat By Maren Johnson

Now rest, fair heart, beneath the sun,

And wait for comfort of the night;

All stars will fade, their journeys done.

Think not, dear heart, of battle won,

The cold of ice, nor blind dog‟s bite;

All stars will fade, their journeys done.

Fear not, brave heart, for those who run

From clutching hands, or cliff‟s dark height;

All stars will fade, their journeys done.

Weep not, sweet heart, for setting sun,

He rises new, each time as bright;

All stars will fade, their journeys done.

Shrink not, pure heart, from twilight‟s gun,

His bullets lead you into flight;

All stars will fade, their journeys done.

Wake not, still heart, for sleep has won,

And peaceful now shall be your light;

All stars must fade, their journeys done,

And heartbeats sound – but missing one.

I Believe… By Alyssa McClure

My heart pounds like the swift bass

beat booming out of the speakers at the

party I‟m not at. Sweat pours down my

eyelids and runs in rivulets across the

wrinkles of concentration stretched painfully

across my forehead. My hands shake

uncontrollably, shuddering like a rickety

bridge does when heavy vehicles speed

across it. My legs quiver; I have been

robbed of my vocal chords. I run hot and

cold, like a swollen thermometer plunged in

ice water. I try valiantly to escape, to elude

the dark demon that has stolen my soul, but

I cannot. I am trapped.

I believe perfectionism is a disease.

It consumes one‟s life. A perfectionist will

never again be satisfied – with her pre-

calculus exam grade, her jean size, or

herself. Every time she looks in a mirror,

she will find an area to improve upon.

Perfectionism does not fraternize with self-

confidence or gratefulness. NOTHING is

EVER good enough. This mindset assumes

control of her outlook on academics, work,

and sports – any aspect of her life that has

been deemed important, it will discover and

conquer. It works hand in hand with greed

and guilt to infect her self-esteem and does

its best to ensure she will never truly

succeed or find happiness.

Those who despise that kid in class

who always knows all of the correct

22

answers do not and will not understand;

they have not been contaminated and

therefore cannot relate. To a perfectionist,

that 88% on her chemistry test – the one for

which she spent 4 hours attempting

desperately to understand the material –

represents failure. Any number less than

100 will not be considered; any lesser value

means that she does not have all the

answers. This is unacceptable. The

pressure to maintain the highest grade

possible becomes unbearable, capturing

every available second of her life. That

glimmer of a social life disappears when the

2200 arrives for her SAT grade. Time no

longer exists for trivial things such as

movies, runs or food when homework needs

to be done and information needs to be

retained. School becomes her priority; as

she wastes away, obvious to those around

her, she fails to see the perilous situation

she has placed herself in.

And so, there comes a point when

the perfectionist can no longer bear the

weight she has hoisted above her

shoulders. Therein enters the breakdown:

the event that single-handedly destroys

every last shred of hope hidden within her to

overcome the disease. The breakdown

does not relieve the pressure she feels

inside; instead it intensifies it, reminding her

that she is NOT perfect – for if she was, she

would be capable of handling the pressure –

and never will be perfect. This, too, is

unacceptable. It forces her to take on more

responsibilities in an acute attempt to make

up for the temporary loss of control over her

life. Perfectionism teaches her that adding

more pressure will solve her problem.

There is no end.

I believe that perfectionism is a

disease, and I believe that I have been

infected. While I am clearly able to

recognize my condition, I am helpless to act

against it. The disease has coursed

through my veins for too long; it cannot be

separated from my blood without killing me.

I am a casualty. I am a victim. I am a

perfectionist.

23

Leave nothing but By Maren Johnson

“Take nothing

But pictures, leave nothing

But footprints.” That‟s what the sign

Said – so that‟s what I did

On that April day when the sun

Had kissed the earth and the rain

Cradled the ground to soften its shell.

Snap.

Old maple tree felled

By lightning‟s electric blade, exposing

Soft wood in shards and splinters

Jutting towards the sky in defiance.

Snap.

Wilting white wildflower in a bed

Of black sludge; oiling and oozing

Into the roots of spring‟s sighing gift.

Snap.

Technicolor sheen

On the rippling pond surface, swirling

Poison for the fish which lies belly up

In the shallows, eyes black and bottomless.

Gasoline seeps through flaking scales.

Snap.

Broken bottles and crumpled cans

Discarded onto rotten leaves.

Snap.

Plastic bag rattling on a sapling‟s branch,

“THANK YOU” emblazoned in red on its

front.

Snap.

Stained styrofoam coffee cup floating

On a meandering stream.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

My footprints made canyons in the soft mud,

But my pictures scream. Look at us. We are

the future.

Look, dammit.

By Maren Johnson

24

Prisoner of Mind By: Becky Nolan A silent brooding storm Creeping mysteriously into my dreams. Memories. Haunted by images of war Which follow me day by day, Morose remembering in my mind; Unable to get away. Trapped by my veterans helmet. Memories thrash against the helmet, Crashing like waves in a storm. But they cannot escape my mind, For they are prisoner to my dreams That haunt my day, Remembering the atrocious time of war. The “unnecessary war” As I heard it called by a man wearing a helmet, My brother during the day Yet my partner once arrived the storm. Our brotherly companionship enters my dreams From time to time. But unlike the others, he may escape my mind. I am a prisoner. A prisoner to my mind. The warden is the war. The warden is unforgiving, keeping me trapped in my dreams; Unable to escape the torture. The helmet Is my cell and the storm Continues to rain hopelessness, clouding my day. Will I ever be able to escape someday? I will never know. My mind Holds a grip like a vice, so strong not even the storm Can escape its clench. The war, my war, Makes me feel scared and alone. I wear my helmet To shield me, but the act is futile. Nothing can shield me from my dreams. I can no longer distinguish reality from my dreams. There is many a day When I think about what it would have been like without the helmet. What would be going on in my mind? For the first time I have forgotten the war, But then, once again, returned the storm. My dreams are what captured my mind. Torturing them by day with images of war, And haunting me underneath my helmet by night. Carefully brewing a storm.

25

I Believe in Ballroom Dancing By Brendan Conron I believe in ballroom dancing. No

self-respecting teenage guy would admit

that, but I do. I believe in the power and

passion of such a simple act. An act,

without words. I don‟t do it often;

circumstances are normally against me but I

take delight in those rare moments when I

can.

My grandfather died of Parkinson‟s. I

was young, only eight at the time. I don‟t

remember much about him; my memory is

often scarce. So I look back to the moments

I can remember, the ones where he taught

me to dance. He would take me by the hand

and we would stumble and tumble our way

across the living room, past the grandfather

clock and my smiling grandmother, always

chuckling at our antics.

When he died, I stopped dancing. I

forgot what it was like to have a partner. It

wasn‟t until high school with my first

girlfriend that I did it again. We danced in a

dimly lit hall and I thought of my grandfather

and how we used to dance.

On cloudy days and starry nights, I

look out my bedroom window, past the pane

of glass. I can see in my mind‟s eye a red-

haired boy and no longer a sickly old man

but a vibrant young one, dancing in the

street. It‟s never perfect, we stumble and

slip, but it‟s not about the dance. It‟s about a

passion. It‟s about being alive.

I Believe in Socialism By Nick Zee

I believe in socialism. Calm down O'Reilley,

I am not a radical and I only listen to Rage

Against The Machine for musical pleasure.

Belief in socialism is not a profound gesture;

it is instead an acceptance of reality.

At the sound of someone saying socialism

most enter mental defcon 1, replacing any

thoughts of mopeds and berets with

monster trucks and deep fryers then looking

their shoulders to make sure the ghost of

Alexander Mitchell Palmer is not trying to

deport them. Why such hysteria? Socialism

is a term of unparalleled innocence that has

been the unfortunate victim of attempts by

politicians and social activists to gain

momentum by striking fear into the

American public.

Capitalism is not and has never been

established in the United States. Adam

Smith's prophesied “invisible hand” has

proven equally nonexistent. The institution

is barbaric and ruthless as it has no rules.

Monopolies would be growing unchecked

and the gap in social classes would be large

enough to horrify. Socialism is the only

manner of protecting the masses. Anyone

who has ever supported a piece of

legislation regarding business is a socialist.

Any denial is a result of a lack of knowledge

enabling a distinction between socialism

and communism, two inconceivably different

political economic ideologies.

Saying you are a capitalist is like staring into

a fitting room mirror and telling yourself that

those jeans will still look great once you get

them home; you know it is not true but you

buy them anyway (later you realize that the

jeans were a wrong choice and you try to

return them but you lost the receipt and now

the jeans are on-sale so they will only

refund you the current price; obviously you

are pretty bummed but you passed an even

better pair of jeans on the way out so all is

dandy once again).

26

The Education Game

By Mark Mandych

This I believe: education should be

viewed qualitatively, based on the principle

that human actions cannot be graded on a

number scale. I am an individual; I am

unique; and I deny the constraints that

hinder my creativity.

In school, my teachers are pleased.

I am doing well, they say. But according to

what rationale? Education has become a

game- there are winners and losers, the

competition is intense, and yes, you can

cheat. I am one of the winners. I

understand exactly how to manipulate the

system to my advantage, gaining maximum

points while expending minimal effort. I

know how to deduce the correct answer

from multiple choices every time; I know

what critical information must be included in

my essays in order to please my teachers.

Short of cheating, I am the very best

at this game. A game that is said to involve

knowledge- which I am beginning to doubt-

and which definitely does not entail wisdom.

When I reiterate the previous day‟s lesson

in order to pass a test, there is no reason for

me to understand the information; my

“knowledge of class content” and therefore

my grade is not affected by quick

memorization. And within a week, all

learning will have escaped my mind.

A high school diploma was once

extremely valuable. But now it is merely a

means to attend college- and college has

become the only way to get a job. Once,

humans used education to collaborate and

create a better world. But now, I can see

that education has evolved into a method of

survival, a brutish tool in this selfish,

competitive, and ignorant world.

This is not education, knowledge for

self-improvement, a love of learning; this is

a system that measures my ability to live up

to another‟s standards, “playing the game”

to ensure a decent future. Increased school

days, homework, and testing will not fix this

problem. But a respect for quality education

and personal responsibility will. All I wish

for is to be viewed as a person, not a

number. I seek my own interests; I discover

my own purpose; I lead my own life.

27

The Voice: An Interview with Ryan Ellis 1. Q. What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?

A. I was hit by a car when I was seven years old, and spent three weeks in the hospital, with a broken leg among other injuries.

2. Q. What is one of your most embarrassing moments? A. I was caught in the ladies room in a large department store in a mall –

I forgot to lock the door, and ducked out quickly when a woman walked in.

3. Q. Where is the strangest place you’ve ever been? A. I once hopped a fence at Niagara Falls and walked out on the rocks. I

stuck my hand in the falls, and the sheer power of the water was incredible. It was late at night, so one wrong move and I could have slipped off the edge.

4. Q. Why did you become a teacher? A. My mother was a teacher, and my father was an engineer, so after I

became an engineer, I figured that I would give teaching a try too. My mom enjoyed what she did and seemed to get a lot out of it.

5. Q. What profession did you have before you began teaching? A. I designed sheet metal tooling at Strippit in Akron.

6. Q. What would you do if you could be anything but a teacher?

A. I would be an NFL football coach; my favorite team is the Bills.

7. Q. What is your favorite food? A. I‟d have to go with steak.

8. Q. What is your favorite movie(s)?

A. Casino and Goodfellas.

9. Q. What is your favorite book or magazine? A. I enjoy Popular Mechanics magazine.

10. Q. What is your favorite sport to play? To watch?

A. My favorite sport to play is golf, and my favorite sport to watch is football.

11. Q. What is your favorite type of music? A. Techno.

12. Q. If you could have a do-over of any event in your life, what would it be?

A. I would have grown up faster, and matured quicker instead of acting as childish as I did.

28

Natalie DuBois

Maren Johnson