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THE VOICE A Student Magazine Issue 1: Volume I. Fall 2011 Artwork by Anna Gregor

The Voice: A Collection of Student Works

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A literary magazine designed to raise the voice of students who may not otherwise have been given the chance to be heard and to draw attention to local

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Page 1: The Voice: A Collection of Student Works

THE VOICE A Student Magazine

Issue 1: Volume I. Fall 2011

Artwork by Anna Gregor

Page 2: The Voice: A Collection of Student Works

Disclaimer: We are not recognized by SDSU as a student group. The opinions and works cited are not a reflection/representation of the opinions of SDSU or its affiliates. All pictures and written works are the property of the student authors. We do not own the right to any works listed. Editted and published by “THE VOICE: Student Magazine.”

The Voice: A Collection of Student Works

About the Editors:

Our Mission: To increase self esteem, motivate, and encourage creativity in San Di-ego County Students. Through our servant leadership project we want to promote a higher education, pro-vide a sense of accomplishment, and most importantly allow students to tell their stories. We aim to restore students’ faith in the school system, encourage learning, as well as bridge the gap between students, teachers, parents, and the community.

Why We Care:Our team recognizes that too often students feel misunderstood, overlooked, and without a voice. We want to give those students the encouragement that many of us did not receive. In building self-con-fidence and feelings of self-worth, it is essential for creative growth and opportunity to be available to students. Organizational Outreach:As San Diego natives who attended local Middle/High Schools, we are reaching out to build awareness of our intentions and obtain participa-tion from these local school systems.

Our Vision:Our mission recognizes a problem that is difficult to diagnose and is even harder to address, the problem of motivation. We understand that the most brilliant minds may reside inside of students who have had their dreams of higher educa-tion weakened and their faith in themselves shaken. We know that the most powerful motivation comes from within. Our mission is to use writing as a tool to unlock this intrinsic motivation that we believe all students have. This is an objective shared with the majority of those in the educational world. We are just another avenue to help these students to achieve the shared vision that their teachers and men-tors have always had for them. We realize that we have all received help at some point in our lives and we view helping these students not as a mechanism to achieve pride, but as an act that needs to be undertaken. We expect to succeed, and in doing so we will feel the satisfaction of ac-complishment as well as gratification of knowing that we helped shape the future.

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To all those students who never thought they would be heard/

noticed. To all those dreamers who never shared their dreams.

To all those who live. This publication is for you.

-Cheers

The Editors

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H i , my name is A lejan-dro Del Toro and I go to Southwest Middle School in San Diego Cal i -fornia. You may think al l teenag-ers think about boys and gir ls or think that we hate adults but the truth is we don’t . We l ike to be with f r iends and we ac tual ly love and respec t others, wel l most of us do, some more than others .

My point is that we’re not what you think we are. I ’m wri t ing this to show you the l i fe of a teenager. My stor y begins in the beg ging of 8 th grade. I t was just my bir thday and I was go -ing to school . And I thought my l i fe would change when I turned thir teen but I was wrong. My l i fe s tayed the same I s t i l l went to s leep at eight, I s t i l l was the same footbal l p layer ever y-body knew, and I s t i l l had the W WE bedspread. But something changed. I was treated with more older s tuf f l ike I could go to dances, I could go to the mov-ies with my fr iends as long as I d id good in school . What I ’m tr y-ing to say is when you’re a teen -ager you can do way more s tuf f then when you’re l i t t le and that ’s my stor y of being a teenager.

am a teenager in middle school very happy on hav-ing teachers that understand who I really am. I like when my friends are telling the truth because that means I can trust them. I get excited when I get good grades on my report card, on my essays, and helping people pass-ing the class like helping them on what they don’t un-derstand. I love when people understand what kind of person I am. And either way I love my life how it’s now and I will not change it for anything, or my family.

I love being the person I am and I always will like being like this because this is the person who I want to be for the rest of my life. One thing I like about myself is that I like working in a group. When working with a group I like being with people will rather work that people are so lazy to do the things and let you all the work on your own and they get the credit for that than the real per-son or people that do all the work for them that is being cheater on the people you are working with that being honest with yourself.

I like telling the true but sometimes I lie because I just forget of the work but that same day I miss work I do it on home for get a better grade. I like being with people that trust me than rather people who said bad things about me and my family. That is the kind of person I want to always be for the rest of the life. When my friends said me you can do it I trust myself on that and I done it. That’s why I always happy of having great friends that can be with me and can trust the way I am.

I love when I meet new people because it always makes feel happy but at the same time I get nervous because I don’t know the people and for me are strangers. One secret that I love is that I always like singing song because it makes me feel happy and more free less like saying the true that is in me for a long time but I never tell anyone neither my friends or family members. I

3 “You may think all teenagers think about are boys and girls or that we hate adults...but the truth is we don’t.”

I

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prefer sing it that saying to people that I cannot trust or they want to yell to every single person and tell them my secret that is my thing not them. Another thing is something that describes me is that I love my family be-cause they are always joking around what everyone else is saying they don’t care about the differences about all of us and what the people said the only thing is that we all together and that we care about our self and family. They leave out things that don’t matter only the family matters- that’s the kind of family I have.

I love singing, dancing, typing, writing all those feelings that are being hidden for long time and I want it to get it out because it driving me crazy. That is what me a teenager life is having a good life and caring about the people I love and that care about how I feel in the single time. That’s my life of being a middle school student and hav-ing some thought of how I love my life as a teenager.

PS. If people said something to you should check if he is telling you the true or if he is only joking before acting to blaming the other person that why he is saying that or something about you.

My

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“ I love be-ing the person

that I am, and I al-

ways wil l .”

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In my opinion the world needs help, we are on the edge of complete pollution. I believe Southwest is a great example of how this world can be helped. Even if I go to a very advanced school, I will never forget how Southwest Middle has helped me through my education and tried to get me to do my best.

I have seen most of the students in this school and I know that there are definitely people who will grow up to be laborers. But that is okay because I believe the world needs laborers. Hopefully, my hypothesis will be incorrect and all my fellow students will become the most successful of all the stu-dents in the Sweet Water District. I believe that we have the some of the best teachers in the whole state and some of the best stu-dents.

I I believe this world can change because sci-ence is in the hands of the students of Southwest Middle. I believe we are the future of our country and that we have the intelligence to make this world a better place. Southwest Middle has been nominated for several great things including “Place for No Hate.” I would not be surprised if a majority of this school will become scientists, doctors, lawyers, and pharmacists. I know that Southwest Middle will change the world.

5

How I See the World

Around Me

M y name is Arlene Vidales and I am an eighth grader at Southwest Middle School. The way I see the world is a big crazy world. A world that can’t be at peace. My world is very difficult. It all started last year when I was in seventh grade. First it started when I had become best friends with a girl named Samantha. When that happened everyone had start-ed to hate me. At first I didn’t know why and I barley found out a year after. The problem was that should would talk stuff about people and blame it on me with-out me even knowing. Then what really

broke our friendship was when she went out with m ex-boyfriend one day after I broke up with him. Well anyways, I have lots of prob-lems! I am between this huge fight which is whatever to me now. I got a family that is very… non-ordinary! And really…! Like to-day on November 2, 2011 I cried during my period 3, which was science, because they took $5 dollars from me. I was so mad and I know that that was not worth crying over but it really hurt my heart. During lunch I went to my teacher to tell her about the incident and then my life got better. But then that’s only my school life!

At home I live with my grandmother. At home I like live with all my cousins. And out of my cousins I get the good grades but to my grandma says I am the” laziest!” and I am the one who is less spoiled than any-one. I don’t get along with the cousins I live with and I get in to lots of trouble! No need for the details. But like I had said that the world is a place where peace would not be found and to me it’s really really troubling! But everyone learns to deal with it just how I learned to deal with the drama that I go through at home and at school.

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E n e s t e a l r e d e d o r l o q u e v e o e s p u r a v i o l e n c i a , p o b r e z a , m a l a e c o n o m í a , f a l t a d e t r a b a j o s , l a d r o n e s , h o m i c i d i o s , a s e s i n o s , y e n u n a s p a r t e s f a l t a d e e s t u d i o . M u c h a c o n t a m i n a c i ó n , g u e r -r a s p e r d i d a s , m a f i a s i c a r i o s , l o s n i ñ o s d e h o y a l g u n o s s e d r o g a n , f u m a n , t o m a n , a l g u -n o s y a p e r d i e r o n e l c a m i n o d e l a o p o r t u n i d a d a h o r a s o n a d i c t o s a e s o . E s o e s l o q u e v e o y o d e e s t e m u n d o s o b r e l o m a l o .

L o b u e n o d e e s t e m u n d o e s q u e n o m u c h o s

6

Lo que veo en mi alrededor

s i g u e n e l l a d o m a l o s i n o q u e a ú n h a y g e n t e r e s p e t u o s a c o n g a n a s , c o n p o t e n c i a l , s o l o q u e m u y p o c a g e n t e l o t i e n e p e r o e s l o s u f i c i e n t e p a r a c a m b i a r e n m u n d o . A u n g e n t e q u e d o n a d i n e r o a l o s n e c e s i t a d o s , a l o s d u e ñ o s d e n u e v a s e m p r e s a s p a r a d a r u n p o c o m á s d e t r a b a j o . l o q u e q u i e r o d e c i r e s q u e a ú n t e n e m o s o p o r t u n i d a d d e c a m b i a r e n e s t e m u n d o l a c i e n c i a e s t á a v a n z a n d o p a r a u n m e j o r m a ñ a n a , e v i t a r l a c o n t a m i n a c i ó n , y s a l v a r e s t e m u n d o d o n d e a ú n h a y u n a p e q u e ñ a o p o r t u n i d a d .

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oming from a different culture and living in America as a teenager is quite the obstacle. I am the first and only one in my family to be born in America. My parents im-migrated to America in 1994 and lived in San Diego ever since. I think my family is very unique because we’re biracial, we’re Eritrean & Italian. I never got to meet the Italian side of my family.

Because of the culture differ-ence my family has much higher expecta-tions for me and sometimes they try to live life through me. Sometimes being from a

different culture interferes with my personal life because I can’t live the teenage “American Dream” like going to the movies or the mall because my family has different beliefs.

Being of a different culture sometimes affected me in school because I was teased, things such as “African booty scratcher” or sometimes they would ask me stuff like “have you ever eaten a rabbit”, and would laugh. When I was growing up finan-cial problems were a big problem. I couldn’t

wear everything all the others kids wore and they would call me cheap and poor. At one point I told my mom I would commit suicide which broke her heart and till’ this day she remembers the day as if was yesterday.

Being a teenager is one of hardest ages of life to go through but with the love and help of my family I know I will be able to keep my head strong and high even when it’s not easy and be proud and embrace my race, culture, and life.

Teenage years are hard and exciting. As I turned 12 I felt like I should

act like an adult but I still act like a child, according to my mother. I didn’t know if it was ok to still play outside or as an adult should sit and read a book. In this age you might start to won-der things like “should I change my attitude?” or like “should I hang out with my old friends or new friends?” Sometimes I wonder if my old friends feel the same way as I do. Maybe that’s why we both have new friends to enjoy this new beginning. I asked my mom these questions. She said “Ximena if you want to hang out with your new friends hang out with them. If you want to change your attitude, change it. If you feel like you want to do it then do it.” Being a teenager is learning that when you are older you will have to

make bigger decisions than right now and when you are a teenager you have to start mak-ing some important decisions in life. But for now you have to learn that a middle school isn’t just about popularity or if you are going out with the hottest guy in school; it’s about being yourself, being a leader. If you are yourself and you think you’re pretty, you are pretty. Be yourself and you will be great in middle school. I hope you have a good year in middle

school.

7

My Life As A Teenager

Who Am I?C

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Who Am I?

Coming from an alcoholic dad and a Christian mom wasn’t always easy for me. I grew up seeing them argue or seeing my dad leave and not come back for day’s sometimes even weeks. At one point my mom was finally done with my dad and they were going to settle for a divorce. As for me going to school every day with my two sisters was sometimes difficult because I didn’t know if my dad was okay. My mom would get calls from neighbors saying “your husband is half way dead at my house, I found him lying on the street.” We would go and see my dad lying on the floor bleeding because he got into a fight.

My dad finally thought he would be better and live a good life so he moved in again. Everything was okay until that one day when he wanted to drink and do drugs that’s when we finally wanted to move away from where we lived to San Diego. We thought everything was going to be okay. Things didn’t work out so there it goes again. They fought because he wanted to drink and I wasn’t with my dad for a whole

3 years.

He finally wanted to get it together so we sent him to a Christian rehab for a whole year. Sometimes I would cry

because I wouldn’t have a daddy to spend Christmas with or Thanksgiving but finally that day everyone waited for arrived. To jump in his arms and hug him felt amazing. I thank my mom for always praying for my dad, my brothers and sisters, and for being a strong mom. Ever since then things have been going good sometimes they’ll fight but not like it used to be.

I know some-times you wish your parents could leave you but how would you like it for them to be gone for good. All I learned was to be thankful

for the things you have and thank Jesus for everything.

My name is Lizbeth Najera and I am 13 years old and I go to south west middle school. The way I see the world around me is positive and also negative at the time. The way I see it positive is when I go out with my friend and have fun with them every day. My friends are fun, awesome, and amazing to be around because once I am with them they make me feel happy and safe around them mostly all the time. But when the fun is over and when I go home that is where all my negative things start to happened to me and that is a different story. What happens is that I get in trouble many times in life. I feel like when I do something that is wrong and when they don’t let me explain what I did I feel angry inside and than I just want to run away from home because they just don’t get me. I feel like nobody will ever

understand me at all because of the mistake I make. There is a good side of me and there is a dark side of me that nobody wants to see out of me. The good sides of me are just all about having fun with my friend and remember the good time we have. But when that dark side of me is out is just thinking of all the mistakes I have made in life and the way it is going. I feel like I am empty inside and there is nobody for me to talk to. But when thing happened to me in life I don’t know what will happened next in life for me. But just living as a teen is the really life then living like a loser. I just have to enjoy life as being a teen then being an adult, so to you teen out there don’t live a life like I am, be a happy teen and try not to grow so fast to be an adult because trust me you don’t until you live your life as a young teen.

8

“Sometimes it was hard to go to school, not knowing if my Dad was o.k.”

Who Am I?

MY LIFE

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9

’m not really sure about what I think of this school I mean I like it better then my old school. But that’s because the old school sucks. Then on top of that I can’t fight Mar Vista in any sport. Maybe you think it’s not bad, but to me it is be-cause I was thinking of join-ing the football team. Then on top of that my mom the other day was trying to yell at me saying that my grades are bad. I don’t get why she would say that if I have one F. but at Mar Vista I had straight F’s. I had to tell her “would you rather me have all F again or only one F?” She said there is no difference, I told her I would have A. Instead I have a 2.0 and she still doesn’t care. I’m wondering if I’m really sure about my life.

“I’m wondering if I’m really sure about my life...”.”

i

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10

My name is Eric Villa, I am an 8th grader at Southwest Middle. I see life like a wonderful opportunity to do things you enjoy. I see school as a key to success. Without school we cannot do anything. We should all get involved in afterschool activi-ties at our school.

Life, we can do anything with it. What I see about life like if we only had one chance. I try to do my best in succeeding my dreams. I motivate myself to do the best at what I want to do. For example I am a soccer player and I try to do my best at it so I can keep on getting better.

At school we learn most of the things we know. If it were not for school we would not know anything. We should thank school for all the knowledge it has given us. In repay I give it my perseverance and my good grades. I think that we should all do the same.

Thank you for spending your time to read this. Goodbye.

“I’m wondering if I’m really sure about my life...”.”

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11

MagnificationDarkness is a magnifying glass. It is a weapon clenched in the grubby hands of a ruthless boy who focuses its ray on a crispy bee carcass, an unsuspecting ant, me. I sense the large glass eye hovering above me, watching my magnified body squirm in pain. The eye blinks in cruel glee-ful joy.

I lie in bed and feel darkness attempting to strangle me; death by affixation, it happens all of the time. No one would ever suspect a murder.

It was a terrible, terrible accident, they would say, she could have done great things.

In the silence of the night, every thought is a scream, a cry for help, in-ward and muted that no one else will ever hear. To ignore these thoughts is impossible for they are sharp and their pointed corners slice and snag the inside of my body. The internal bleeding will remain unseen until I drown in bodily fluids, floundering helplessly in an ocean that no one else can see.

She drowned in two inches of water, they will say, such a shame no one was there to help.

Humans are naturally afraid of the dark; some internal instinct nestled deep within each twining ladder of DNA causes them to gravitate toward the light and away from the inky tendrils of night that creep in through their seams and poison the mind. It is a form of self-protection to guard against those that prey on them: wolves, bears, Truth.

Humans are naturally afraid of Truth; some internal instinct nestled deep within each twining ladder of DNA causes them to lie to themselves, to hide beneath a cloying mask, to lock toxic emotions away in their chests until their bodies are swollen from the

internal pressure.

The darkness severs me from the illu-sion that the world hides behind. It cov-ers my eyes, leaves me blind. And like the blind in ancient literature I am able to see the truth, an oracle that derives answers from the blackness. However there is a reason that the seer is blind; the light is too bright, the truth so blinding that it melts his eyes from his head, left to dribble out of the sockets like heated candle wax. Or perhaps, like Oedipus, the blindness is self-induced because the pain of the truth is unbear-able. Darkness is deadly. It leaves me at the mercy of my own thoughts.

In the dark I am revealed as I actually am unto myself: alone and frightened, self-pitying and afraid of healing. I can feel a void in my torso that is suppos-edly filled with squishy organs that look like water balloons and skinned snakes. I think about those textbooks, the dusty volumes from biology class, with bright-ly colored illustrations of corpses that have been sliced open and stuffed with rainbow tubes. How do I know that those twining intestines and bloated shapes are nestled within my stomach? No scalpel has traced down my abdo-men, peeled back the rubbery skin and scraped away the muscle to reveal the labyrinth of organs within. I know that I am empty inside, a vacuum, a day-old helium balloon, an empty bottle. Why else would I feel like this?

When I am blind I can see that the world is coated in a sickly sweet glaze that, in an attempt to conceal the unpleasant Truth, advances its own decay. The gaping hole in my chest is a spiritual void that cannot be filled by expensive cars or sex or drugs. Everything held important by modern society is revealed to be hollow. It is uncomfortable—frightening—this unadulterated glimpse of the real- ity. To admit this void is a sign of weakness and the universal yearning for

fulfillment goes unspoken. Greif and heartache are suppressed, locked away, left to decay from the inside out.

In the darkness I am alone with these feelings—these terrible, beautiful feelings—that I am supposed to hide. But to lie and to pursue Truth simulta-neously is impossible, so I must explore. The darkness exposes me; its concen-trated beam burns my skin as I delve deep into my soul. I lay splayed out like a trapped insect, under the excruciating glare of my own magnifying glass.

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1313

Magnification

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Dishonest TruTh

14

13

When I close my eyes, I picture a beautiful placeWhen I open them back up, I see what has become a disgraceI try to ignore the screams of distress Avoid what the world has created, a messWho has the audacity to point the fingerThe same one who left with the pull of a triggerSea to shining sea is nothing to the presentSo let’s finish it now..

While it’s still somewhat pleasant

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Dishonest TruTh

14

S]olitary here,you left me to forget.But I am a poet;I don’t forget.It rolls around in my headcontending my thoughtsuntil the right words surface.Words in stone-Art.Words that will neverfade away-like you.Now you are in stone.You are art.But solitary here-you let yourself forget-so I will fade away.

El Cap

Permanence

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15

The forest made no noise beneath my feet. I ran with as much speed as I could muster, but my footfalls were as light as the air that kissed the treetops. A tree frog made more noise than I did. Even in panic, my training stuck with me.The arrows that whizzed by my head rent the air with many hollow whirls. They thudded into the trees past and around which I ran. Their drumming of the trunks was loud and easily broke the silence of the forest, had it been quiet. It was not, however, as my pursuers were not as light-of-foot as I. Their heavy boots stomped and crushed the ground beneath them, snapping twigs and leaving impressions in the mossy grass.Their lack of grace said nothing about their aim. The arrows rushed past me, dragging air behind them. One nicked my cheek, causing a small sting of pain and a tiny bleeding cut. I had to keep running. Crossbows like that could drive a heart from a body if aimed correctly.I knew that if I stopped I would be either caught or killed, likely both. Weaponless, I had only one option and that was to keep running. I ducked under branches and vaulted over roots, moving in any way that I could to get away and keep out of their line of fire. Knowing I couldn’t keep my pace for

much longer, I jumped up, planting my foot on the large trunk of an ancient tree, and used it to kick myself to a low branch of another tree nearby. As my foot left the tree, arrows thudded into its bark. I jumped from the low branch to another, kicking with power each time to climb higher towards the canopy. If I could lose myself in the branches, they wouldn’t know where to fire.The arrows chased my path upward. I made my movements urgently, trying to escape the arrows’ points. Only branches away from the top of the canopy, an arrow passed my path and embedded itself before me. I used it as a foothold and kicked hard. I had to extend my entire length, stretching and reaching for my target. My focus was on a sturdy

branch above me, which I only just managed to get a hold of. I lifted myself up

and then began to climb the dense canopy like a ladder.

I still heard the arrows puncture deep in the forest be-low me, but I was now out of reach. The branches were

too intertwined and dense to allow arrows between them.

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16The Canopy

If I stayed in the upper part of the canopy, they would never reach me from below. I could slow my pace just a bit. Their crossbows may be deadly, but they lacked the skill to be able to follow me.I knew how the legends went. I knew what ridiculous stories they told about me. Once I reached the tops of the trees, some people swore they saw blue feathered wings erupt from my back. They say I would kick off of the branches one last time and take to the air, flying away in the sky. Few people truly believed those stories, at least I had thought. Quite a few weren’t sure. They were skeptical, but once I evaded their crossbows by ascending to the canopy, their doubts were chal-lenged. No one has caught me up here before.Maybe no one ever would. It isn’t unlikely. I’ve been traveling this uncharted path for years now, my skills unmatched. My skills, however, are also a thing less heard of. Few people understand it enough to respect it and most cast me aside as a vagrant, a stranger of thought, unlike any of them and therefore left alone.Most of me loves this life, being on top of the trees, touching the sky, being a mystery, something unique. It gave me joy to learn how

to do something so different from other travelers. The rush of the canopy wind is like no other.But for all the joy it brings me to be able to escape the danger below and see the sky above, am I truly the only one? Maybe there is someone out there who can climb like I do, who found joy in being one with nature, peacefully. Can anyone else run without crushing the moss beneath their feet? I’d hate to have this canopy destroyed, half the beauty lost…Then again… I’d hate to remain here alone.

The boots below passed my location, leaving me to my thoughts. I’ve found safety in a sanctuary more free than anything found

below, a pure place. Is this a choice I have to make? To give up this world of beauty or have someone to share it with?

I take a breath… and take to the skies.

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I see you dancing, smiling brighter than the sun. You are in the spotlight and you’re fooling everyone-but not me. I watch you leave, and pull the mask right off your face; another is left under it with the edges made of lace. Mask after mask you peel off, but still

more masks are there. If you ever removed the final one, I know there’d be nothing there. You have masks for every situation, masks to fit just right, but you and I both know the truth: in the wearing of masks and the tearing of masks, who can know for sure how many masks one does wear? And which one is you, while the others, mere facades, rot around you.

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When I look into the sky I realize the truly magnificent thing about it: clouds. Their absence makes one glance around repeatedly, looking for a single sign, a small bit of white, only to be thwarted by the startling sunlight and clear blue.

Some days they grace us with their ap-pearance: two dimensional, flat as paper against their blue background: a child’s drawing, an unnoticed background among the bright blue of the sky, but there nonetheless.Often these wispy cirrus clouds come in layers, giving the feel of a three-dimen-sional movie –that lowest layer seeming so close you could let the mist weave its careless- ness through your fingers. A trick of Providence, teasing us with the thought of touching our dreams so easily.Even more beautiful are those great cotton balls –cumulus clouds– that grace the sky with their windy dance. Their curves and shades give the perfect sense of veracity like a nineteenth century realist, entertain-ing the thought of Leonardo’s chiaroscuro with the robust forms of the Rubenesque ideal. These gorgeous beauties drift mindlessly through the air providing the perfect atmosphere for a lazy afternoon in the grass with a lover and a world full of endless dreams. A layer of gray may cover the blue of the heavens, spread over us like a cool, silent blanket, muting the sunlight and often muting the mood of the unsuspecting onlooker. Quiet stratus clouds find them-selves chilling the Earth with their om-nipotent tentacles of restraint, inhibiting the spur of the moment beach trips and

forcing us to reach for our windbreakers.Clouds hold power as well. When an omi-nously approaching thunderhead graces the edge of our vast firmament, those frightened run into their homes to wait out the impending storm, maybe in hopes of a lightning show. These full beasts let rain the deluge and downpour of time spent collecting such immense amounts of water. One must wonder…where does it all come from? Does it have a history? Was each droplet not made of water, but a memory – splashing in playful delight on a warm day, fishing with a beloved child on a lovely Sunday morning – a precious token of the

mind, shared unknowingly?

Memories carried by such heavy clouds that, when this rain

of remembrance finally falls, it becomes a cleansing of sorts, a baptism of renewal. Rejuvenated and revived as the fresh scent of rain on grass, one can begin again. The magnificent drifting of these beauties, brought over my head by the constant winds of change, provokes thought. Always transforming, always altering how they appear to us, clouds are like love: They drift in and out of life, but they make one stop for a moment and bask in their exquisite- ness.

18Once Upon a Glance to the Sky

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May I be the silver liningdust upon your clouds?May I take the utmost careto uncover all the shrouds?Though you’d love to prove to meyour soul has surely died,All I want to whisper through the pain,is that it’s very much alive.

You contradict my complimentsand say that they’re untrue.Lonely in the dead of night,your eyes see only blue.Let me assure you I am here,and here for you alone,Even if my adoring wordsare pixels on a phone.

Enrapture me with your sly waythat makes me forget my feet;I trip and stumble, blush and grin,yearning for next we meet.Your kindest notes and loving caregive me the lightest heart,And make me fear the sadness I will feelfor the duration we’re apart.

So won’t you please listen to meas I speak of how you amaze?For you send my pen into a flurryand my mind into a daze.

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To the Love of a Twenty-First Century Byron

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There once was a knight known through the land.His merchandise was in high demand,Everyone had heard his name,

Everyone knew of his fame.The name of this famous knight was Sir Henry Dyres.He was known for his quick hand at starting fires.He was strong and young and his father a lord,And certainly knew his way around a sword.

He wanted to become the best,He trained night and day with no rest.He spent all his time on the sparring field,For he had no time to waste and yield.

The villagers were amazed how he took no vacation.It seemed as if he had some sort of motivation.The villagers tried to ask him what was behindThis beast of a man, but Henry took no mind.

So they summoned the wizard of the land,Who claimed he knew everything, even the sand.But it seemed as if the wizard was stumped,On such a puzzle that on him was dumped.

So the wizard traveled to the knight’s house,And in there he hid, as if he was a mouse.And when the knight came home for a nap,

The wizard jumped out with a snap.He asked the knight the question of awe.“What is your motivation?”, and what came from his jaw,Was quite a surprise, for what the wizard sought,Was said without a fraction of second thought.

The knight answered him with no hesitation,Answered the question of his motivation.“She goes by the name of Isabella,And there is no reason not to hail her.”

“She is the fairest one in all Bella Land,And with grace she helps every needing hand.Her hair is as the goldness of the sun,She is the reason all my battles are won.”

The wizard was fascinated by what he had said,He could not imagine a dame inside this knight’s head.The wizard paused for a moment and thought,And out from his mouth came this next lot.

“Isabella, what a wonderful name,It must belong to someone beautiful and tame.”

Said the wizard of the land,Claimed to know even the back of your hand.

“I admit I’m a little confused,”The old wizard continued,“It must be someone special,It has to be someone extraordinary.”

“Must be a madam with a wonderful mind,Must be a damsel, sweet and kind,For a knight like you to fight so hard,To protect, to uphold, to cherish at heart.”

The wizard then continued and stated,“I congratulate you, it must have been fated,This find of such a worthy damsel for you,A damsel of which you have your mind set to.”

Then the knight answered the wizard and said,“To these assumptions you have in your head,You are correct; she is everything you have explained,She is the sunshine in my soul when it has rained.”

“This Bella is the reason I stand strong,The reason I train so hard and long.Although I never quite see her much,

The Damsel Near The Dutch

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The Damsel Near The DutchFor she lives far away, near the Dutch.”

“But when I do it’s like we were never apart.She is always in my thoughts and in my heart.”With that the wizard said thanks, gave a wink,And said, “That really makes you stop and think.”

Henry answered and said, “That’s just the sort of thing,That love can do to anyone or anything.”The wizard said, “This love thing is all new,Maybe I’ll look into it, just like you.”

“Now wizard you can’t rush into such a game,A game of love, of roses and dames.Your one true love just can’t be anybody,It has to be that one special somebody.”

“This person has to mean the world to you.A girl who you will cherish and stay true to.This may come after much heartbreak,So never get too down, those girls must’ve been fake.”

“It has to be a person you want to spend,Every moment with and to whom you will bend.So while searching, keep all of this in your mind.When you find her, the feeling will be one-of-a-kind.”

The wizard was much more than grateful.“Well knight you are actually quite tasteful,You are much wiser than I thought.The wizard who knows everything, you have taught.”

The wizard then said, “What can I do?You know what? Let me make it up to you.For sharing this information with me,Let me do something to fill your life with glee.”

So with a sparkle and a wave of his hand,He did something better than making glass from sand.

Then there was a large flash of light,And Henry thought there was an angel in his sight.

But only after rubbing his eyes,He realized it was much better than any prize.It was Isabella, the dame he had so often dreamt.She was there to stay; from Bella Land she was exempt.

After thanking the wizard, on one knee, I might add,Henry kissed the wizard’s hand and was far from sad.He then turned to Bella and took her by the hand,Said, “Let’s go, you’ve much to see in Henry Land.”

They then walked out hand in hand, side by side.He showed her his life, and took her for a ride,On his stallion on which he trained so hard,On which he trained with her in his heart.

It was truly a dream come true,Riding with Bella under a sky so blue.And as the evening began to fall,Bella asked him something and he nearly began to ball.

“Henry it’s like into a dream I have taken a dive.I can finally breathe, I’m suddenly alive.I just don’t know how to say this any other way,What I want to say is, do you think I could stay?”

Henry simply did not know how to react.He sputtered, he choked and he nearly spat.“Oh Isabella, I would love to have you stay.This is something that for a million dollars I would pay.”

And with that they rode off into the sunset.They now travel the world, no one haven’t they met.Everyone they’ve seen, has heard their laughter,

And now Henry and Bella live happily ever after.

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Her words are poison daggersHer eyes are silken wineHer rage could kill a countryHer restraint as strong as gravityHer sentences weave mysteriesHer riddles leave you baffledShe slips into the nightShe’s a nighthawk in flightHe follows her to freedomHe lingers on her wordHe chases her around the worldHe wants her mystery unfurledHe trails her empty promisesHe swears to be her dreamHis heart is tied to herHe’s a puppet on a stringShe’s iron pyriteShe’s the goldShe’s the cross on the chartShe’s destroying his heartHis hopes fade slowlyHis thoughts are jadedHis path is left to dryHis eyes are left to cryHer eyes could never seeHer instinct had to showShe never thought she’d love himBut she couldn’t let him goShe saw the husk she made of himShe had to set him freeIf only that were trueIf only he wasn’t me

Femme Fatale

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She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have. But she had, and that was the prob-lem. There was no way to justify her ac-tions, no way to make what she’d done okay. It was out of nothing but cold blood that she’d let herself fall into that state of mind, the state of mind that had allowed her to lash out at the people around her — the people whom she’d loved, of course. It wasn’t on purpose. It really wasn’t. She had never meant to let it go that far. But wasn’t that how it always went? That was what everyone said. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. And yet it all seemed to have happened, and no one ever said it was an accident. Just that they hadn’t meant to let anything happen. Voices on the wind of the beach she stood on whispered harsh accusations in her ears, the wind whipping her hair all around. The skies surrounding the area were grey, no blue visible through the immense cloud cover, no sunlight peeking underneath. On this day, it seemed to have captured her mood effectively. There was nothing she could do now. There was no way to repair the damage that had been done, no way to go back and undo it. She would just be forced to live with the consequences, if she could continue liv-ing at all. That if was larger than anyone could have ever known at that moment in time. The day had started out normally. It was her birthday. Few people had been invited to join her, considering the fact that she wasn’t the average social butterfly. Only three guests came in total, one of which was family — the only real family she’d had left, in fact. Everything went smoothly. There was little discussion on the matter of this celebration other than the occasional “happy birthday,” though even those were scarce and only said once per person. These times were generally not the happiest, however she did enjoy the company of the ones she held near and dear to her heart even if she only got to see them for but a few hours a year. It was only her other family that she didn’t care to see much. . . and that was where things went wrong. Only later that day would she figure this out, and even then, it’d be too late for anything to come of it. The majority of the get-together was used up by eating the meal that she’d prepared, consisting of three courses. The details of the food itself were already be-coming blurry. What she remembered most vividly was what had happened afterward. The four of them migrated to the room in which sat a couch, and, as though everyone knew something dreadful was coming, there blanketed them a silence that

each person was afraid to fill. Finally he spoke — the one who deserved what he was about to receive, the one that had never caused her anything but torment and misery and yet the only person that ever remained the same during these gatherings other than her sister. The friend that she requested join her changed each year. “I, personally, feel that repeating the same thing each year is ludicrous. It’s not like you change,” he stated, pointedly direct-ing the statement at her. “It’s not as though you enjoy it any more than you have since you began this redundant tradition.” This was too much for her liking. She’d received enough of this sort of treat-ment from him — and then some. She stood, the amount of indignation that he’d been causing her soaring higher than ever before. This was just not tolerable. Hands on her hips, she leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “I don’t appreciate your tone, brother,” she spat, and then slapped him so hard across the face that there was a resounding crack in the room from where her hand met his cheek. When his cold eyes rose to meet hers again, they were deadly. Blood leaked from his mouth and dribbled down his chin, and still he sneered at her, seemingly not phased by the repeated raising of her arm. Once again she brought her hand down and in contact with his cheek, this time with as much force as she could muster. Another crack resounded through-out the room, but as soon as the sound had finished reverberating she knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. This crack, unlike the first that had only been her hand on flesh, had had more of a sickening sound. More of a snap than a crack. And this time, he did not look up to meet her eyes. Instead he stared unseeingly at another corner in the room, clouded over with the obvious shade of death. Here came that point again: This was never meant to happen. Her blood ran cold as she froze, frantically attempting at a way to figure out how to resolve the situation. Of course, she was only deluding herself. There was no way to resolve this situation. There was only one thing that she could think of to do, and even while it seemed her only option unless she were to flee, it was heartbreaking and had come into her mind but for the reason that she was under pressure and couldn’t see any other options. She slowly turned to face the other two members of her party, both of whom were gaping openly at her. Her sister was frozen with one hand on her mouth and one hand at her chest, the latter rising and falling quickly. “Alicia,” the sister said, the sister that was about to do such a horrible thing that she would never live to forget it. Alicia backed away and was stopped by the back of the couch, her eyes wide and frightened as she trembled violently. The trembling came to a halt as

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It’ll Never

End Well

soon as she was slumped against the couch, the crack from her neck resounding through the room just as their stepbrother’s had. Two down, one to go. Steeling herself took some effort, but after she had succeeded, she turned back toward where her most recent friend and last guest stood poised by the door, his hand already reach-ing for the doorknob. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she yielded him, raising a shaking hand one last time and closing her eyes against the sight of seeing him collapse on the floor as the last crack resounded within the room.

And now she stood, the wind whispering in her ears those horrible things that she’d never wanted to hear. Cold-hearted. Evil. Killer. Murderer. She didn’t know how much of it she could take. It felt like each wave that crashed on the shore, each gust of wind that mussed up her hair, each grain of sand on this beach was accusing her of the actions that she, at the time, had not had the capac-ity to figure out how she could avoid such a drastic solution to such an unfortunate and awful problem. Come to think of it, maybe her “solution” wasn’t quite so hard to under-stand. Maybe. It was hard for her to understand, though, and that was all that mattered now. There had been no real rhyme or reason to her actions, no motivation. It was noth-ing but a quick escape from a situation that could have probably been fled. However, one accident led to another, and then this had happened. Now, as she stood on the somber and grey shoreline, many revelations flashed through her mind. Many of them involved more death, but this wasn’t the death of anyone but herself. Of course, the best way to make it worse for herself would just be to keep living, holding onto all the guilt and the fear and the worries that had haunted her every breath from that day onward. It hadn’t been all that long since, but she was beginning to wonder how much more of it she would be able to withstand. The potency really was that horrible. But to escape it all, to escape the atrocious thoughts that never seemed to end, this new resolution to a new problem would be the perfect opportunity. The perfect way. The only issue was that she wasn’t very sure that she could bring herself to do it. She stared at the crashing waves for a long time, calculating as the freezing water travelled up to surround her ankles and then watching them as they receded again, her eyes following the swells as though they held answers to her problems.

Finally the accusatory whispers stopped as her solution became clear. Calmly she stepped farther and farther into the water, refusing to allow herself to emit even one shiver. This will be easy, she thought in an attempt at reassurance. It’s not as though this has never been done before, and this time, you have a valid reason for the need to escape. Eventually, though, she could avoid trembling no longer. When she was up to her chest in the frigid water, she began to shiver violently, not only from the chill but from the fear. Do I really want to do this? A lengthy pause, filled with noth-ing but silence. Yes. Taking in one last breath, she said a goodbye to the darkening sky above her and then dove into the sea, the waves picking her up and quickly depositing her further out into the water, never to be seen again. The only remnants she had were her footprints, and even those would be brushed away by a touch of wind or a high tide.

THE END

The underlying meaning: This started out as just a random story, something dark, something that I’ve never written anything similar to before. But as I finished it I realized that this could be seen as a large analogy, in a way, for those teens who attempt and/or succeed at suicide. It’s an important matter that more people need to think about. The main character’s accidental killings represent the occasional lashing out that depressed teenagers might have, or the self-harm. Sometimes it isn’t even meant to happen, but once they start, they can’t bring themselves to stop. Her contemplation of suicide is just what it represents. The guilt and grief of the things she’s done account for all the emotions that teenagers are probably feeling, the times when they think things are their fault and the times when they just want to escape the world. In the end, when she chooses to drown herself, this represents exactly what it is. She can’t take what’s going on in the world anymore and so just chooses to leave, similar to how some teens feel that they can’t withstand the torment any-more, and so just decide to depart from the world to escape the pain and suf-fering that they feel. Some only at-tempt, and end up getting help and getting better. Others succeed.

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John BernalMrs. MahGranite Hills Many people wonder, who am I?I’m not mean or judgmentalBut they know that I’m shyHowever, I look very gentle.My mother knows that I’m smartAlso, I’m a boy with a big heart.All I can say, It’s not what’s in the outsideBut what’s in the inside.I can run with the windWhich sends me into a destination.My name is John,That’s who I am,And I’m proud of myself.

I talk to many people

Just as cool as I can be,

and to the bullies,who are mean to me, who have hurt me, physically and mentallywho brought me into tearswho made me lose my confidencewho have made me feel like trashwho made me fall into fear and miserywho made feel like I am nothing to anybodywho made fun of me in many ways,about my race and me being a “nerd.”

but when I graduate with honorswith a great career,with friendly people,and a good life.I’ll show youthat I’ve done itmade my loved ones proudand motivate everyone thatthey can do anythingif they put their heart to it,My name is John,

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An Anti-bully Piece Poem

An Anti-bully Piece Poem

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John BernalMrs. MahGranite Hills Many people wonder, who am I?I’m not mean or judgmentalBut they know that I’m shyHowever, I look very gentle.My mother knows that I’m smartAlso, I’m a boy with a big heart.All I can say, It’s not what’s in the outsideBut what’s in the inside.I can run with the windWhich sends me into a destination.My name is John,That’s who I am,And I’m proud of myself.

I talk to many people

Just as cool as I can be,

and to the bullies,who are mean to me, who have hurt me, physically and mentallywho brought me into tearswho made me lose my confidencewho have made me feel like trashwho made me fall into fear and miserywho made feel like I am nothing to anybodywho made fun of me in many ways,about my race and me being a “nerd.”

but when I graduate with honorswith a great career,with friendly people,and a good life.I’ll show youthat I’ve done itmade my loved ones proudand motivate everyone thatthey can do anythingif they put their heart to it,My name is John,

that’s who I am,and I’m proud about myself.

Now you understandJust why I’m not a bullyI don’t shout or hurt anyoneOr hit someone for entertainmentWhen you see me passing with a smile,You know that I’m very nice and smartcompared to a bullyand I will always try my best,to bring a smile on your face, make you happy, be your sun,and brighten your day.My name is John,That’s who I am,And I’m proud about myself.

- John Bernal

(Bullying = a form of aggressive behavior, which can defined as abusive treat-ment, the use of force or coercion to affect others, particularly when habitual and involving an imbalance of power.)(I have been bullied throughout my childhood and some of my teenager life; however, it stopped in 10th grade, and I want to stop bullying for everyone, so they can’t feel that they are useless and weak. I wish Granite Hills can do some

kind of event, like “every 15 minutes.”)

An Anti-bully Piece Poem

An Anti-bully Piece Poem

An Anti-bully Piece Poem

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Jock.Nerd.Freshmen.The vicious wordsMelt away as weUnite and try to survive.Old friends fade away asNew friends emerge.So many chancesTo meet new peopleAnd find true love.The useless dramaThat tears us apart,Soon vanishes.

Now as seniors,We know we’re leaving.We can’t hold onMuch longer.That one argument,Three long years ago,Seems so petty.Why did we part?Now that I’m leaving,I wish I had.I wish I hadn’t.Too late now.Move forward,Head held high.

Let us growAnd never forget.Yet remember,And never regret.

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Index of Authors

Alejandro G Del Toro....... 3

Alandra Gomez................. 3, 4

Alene V Vidales...5

Anthony Sandoval......9

Bresnev E Amezcua ...........6

Eric Villa.....................10

Kevin A. Brito..................... 5

Lizabeth Najera....8

Raimok Yesief.....7

Sylvia Rojas..........8

Ximena Aguayo.....7

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Middle School

“...How Do You Percieve the World?”

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Index of Authors

Anna Gregor El Capitan High School “Faith” Artwork .......Front Cover “Magnification”........11, 12

Breeanna Allen “It’ll Never End Well”.......24, 25

Evan Myres Granite Hills High School “The Damsel Near the Dutch”......21

John BernalGranite Hills High School “Anti-bully Piece Poem”.......27, 28

Joseph BomanEl Capitan High School “Untitled”..............17

Mackenzie AikenEl Capitan High School “Once Upon a Glance to the Sky”..................18 “To the Love of a Twenty-First Century Byron”..................................19

Makala NarlockEl Capitan High Shool “Untitled”...............29

Nicole RobertsonEl Capitan High School “The Canopy”..............................15, 16 “Femme Fatale”......................

Pebbles BastonGranite Hills High School “Touch Someone’s Heart” Art...............19, 20

Seraphina SoldersEl Capitan High School “Permanence”..................14

Tyler CrosbyGranite Hills High School “Dishonest Truth”.............13

Drew JohnsonEl Capitan High School Street View Photographs, Back Cover.......... Back Cover

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High School

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Back Cover