Eyrie 2017

The Eyrie is a literary/arts journal published by Eastern Maine Community College to showcase student work. The issue highlights exceptional writers and artists from across the campus.

This issue is dedicated in loving memory to the late John Ianelli; advisor, instructor, mentor, friend.

Faculty Advisors Heather Magee, Dr. Lesley Gillis Cover Design Travis Nolan Page Design Amy Wilkins Page Layout/Design Dylan Bruce Zackary Philbrick Christopher Fortier James Rainey Julia Honn Patricia Robinson Dale King Jordan Stump Christopher Manos Amy Wilkins Travis Nolan DGD231 Printing and Publishing This issue was printed and produced by Downeast Graphics & Printing, Inc. A special thanks to Charlie Ferden for the generous donation of his time and expertise!

Š All work in this journal remain the sole property of their owner and may not be reprinted without permission.

The Eyrie | 2017 Table of Contents Research Papers

America, Exceptional and Unequaled............. 4 Black, Green, and Gold...................................... 13

Poetry

A Walk to Remember.......................................... 19 Enemy Lines - 8 Syllables...................................... 20 Honestly................................................................. 21 caves..................................................................... 23 Descriptive Poem................................................. 24 Lisa Roney’s Serious Dating Pathway 3.3.......... 25 real estate, housefire........................................... 26 Untitled.................................................................. 28 Descriptive Poem 1.............................................. 30 Descriptive Poem 2.............................................. 32 Unsettled Reflections........................................... 33 Just A Break.......................................................... 34 Lisa Roney’s Serious Dating Pathway 4.4.......... 36 Haiku...................................................................... 37 Couplet................................................................. 38 Ballad..................................................................... 39 Three Cubs Villanelle........................................... 40

Article Response

The Way of All Flesh.............................................. 41

Essays

Rubik’s Cube........................................................ 44 Apple Pie Analysis................................................ 46 How to Become a Disney Princess..................... 48 Maine Milfoil.......................................................... 50 Personal Compare/Contrast Essay.................... 52

Creative Writing

Show Down with the Most Feared Good-bye..... 56 Role of Reading.................................................... 58 Tea Party............................................................... 60 The Painter............................................................ 62

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Writing As Process

Writing Exercise..................................................... 65 The Death of Dr. Friend........................................ 67

Culinary

Daisy-Themed Wedding Cake........................... 84 Chef Scott’s Fall 2016 Class................................. 85 Honeybee-Themed Wedding Cake.................. 86 Lady Bug-Themed Wedding Cake.................... 86

Photoshop

Vintage Postcard................................................. 87 Fairy Dreams......................................................... 88 Fantasy Project..................................................... 88 Playroom............................................................... 89 Composite............................................................ 89 Postcard................................................................ 90 Sandy Monroe...................................................... 90

Layout Design

Bearfoot Magazine Ad........................................ 91 Design Culture Now 2017.................................... 92 Reshmi Dance Movement ................................. 92 Design Culture Now............................................. 93 Reshmi Dance Movement Poster...................... 93

Illustration

Dragonopoly........................................................ 94

Photography

The Domino Effect................................................ 95 Rustic Italian.......................................................... 96 Dream Dress.......................................................... 96 Toy Soldier............................................................. 97 Last Battle.............................................................. 97 Bangor................................................................... 98 Light Through Trees............................................... 98 Dusk Through the Trees........................................ 99

Memorial

In Memory of John Ianelli.................................... 100

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Research Papers America, Exceptional and Unequaled Anthony Fiore America is uniquely positioned as the greatest nation that ever was because of a rich history of adventure, integrity, intelligence, and religious freedom. The early colonists sought to leave an oppressive Anglican regime under the monarch King Charles, and ever since then we have incorporated the value of freedom into our very constitution. The Anglican aspect of King Charles’s reign is important because it shows how King Charles wanted to hold onto the heretical notions of the Roman Catholic Church. In addition, we had a diverse crowd from many different countries in Europe to lend culture and technological significance to our fledgling country.

From this multinational crowd, we could learn from both the failures and successes of their respective countries, especially regarding the tyranny of monarchies. We had great success militarily by defeating the British army at the near height of the British power and influence. Victory in the Revolutionary War kicked off a strong sense of patriotic pride for our country early on.

Herein, I will not only describe why the foundation of America is special, but what we did with the country since then.

Throughout our short history, relative to Old World countries in Europe, Asia and beyond, America has dominated achievements in the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) fields. The world looks to America for innovation in every 4 STEM category and aims to follow suit.

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Because of our capitalistic endeavors, English has become the whole world’s common trade language and is taught in all developed countries’ schools. American television shows and film industry is watched in every corner of the world.

People of all nations love American culture because of how often they see it on their television, allowing our culture to seep into other cultures.

The first settlers of America were a diverse crowd from many different cultures abroad, and that precedent is part of what makes us a great nation. They lived a very harsh life, where they had to build their own living structures. “Tents, pit houses, sod houses and tented pits were all common for short periods of time” (Taylor 89). Besides housing concerns, many things we take for granted today were not available to early American colonists. “Most people lived by the sun, rising at dawn and going to bed at dusk” (Taylor 102).

The most important thing to many Early Americans was freedom from oppressive Anglican English religion. Here is a brief description of what Anglican means from the Anglican worldwide website: The Church of England (which until the 20th century included the Church in Wales) initially separated from the Bishop of Rome during the reign of King Henry VIII, reunited under Queen Mary I and then separated again under Queen Elizabeth I. The Church of England has always thought of itself not as a new foundation but rather as a reformed continuation of the ancient “English Church” (Ecclesia Anglicana) and a reassertion of that church’s rights. As such it was a distinctly national Church. (“What is the Anglican Communion”) Though the English originally split from Rome after the Catholic heresies were rejected

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during the reformation, King Charles I sought to get back to Roman Catholic ideals in the form of Anglicism.

To punish those who refused to accept his reforms, [The Arch Bishop of the Anglican Church] used the two most feared and arbitrary courts in the land, the Court of High Commission and the Court of Star Chamber. The former could compel individuals to provide self-incriminating testimony, while the latter could inflict any punishment whatsoever (including torture), with the sole exception of death.

The lawlessness of the Court of Star Chamber under Charles I far exceeded that under any of his predecessors. Under Charles’s reign, defendants were regularly hauled before the court without indictment, due process of the law, or the right to confront witnesses, and their testimonies were routinely extracted by the king and his courtiers through extensive torture. (“Charles I of England”) As you can imagine, the Puritans, Quakers and other branches of the truly reformed Protestant church were glad to be going off to new colonies where they did not have to suffer such atrocities.

After England imposed the Sugar Act, Currency Act, and Stamp Act (restricting and taxing common goods such as coffee printed currency and all printed documents) (Fisher 15), the colonists began actively resisting British rule. Until the 1760s, America had enjoyed a mostly peaceful and prosperous relationship with England (Fisher 8 and 9), which shows that if treated fairly, we would have stayed loyal to the crown. It was only after many injustices, including the three Acts that I previously mentioned, that great patriots such as Samuel Adams, John Adams, Ebenezer 6 McIntosh, Paul Revere, and others formed the Sons of Liberty and began actively Research Papers

resisting English tyranny (Fisher 15).

Early battles in the ensuing Revolutionary War showed American ferocity when pressed into battle. “And although [the British forces] had been victorious at Bunker Hill, the ferocity of the defense had been a great surprise” (Fisher 86). Regarding this battle, one of the English leaders of the battle, General Gage, wrote the British Secretary of War: “These people show a spirit and conduct against us they never showed against the French…They are now spirited up by a rage and enthusiasm as great as ever people were possessed of and you must proceed in earnest or give the business up” (Rankin 63). As Americans, we proved early on that we would not back down from a fight for a just cause, and we continued to prove that we would always fight for the right cause through the years since then.

Thomas Jefferson, an early founding father and principal author of the Declaration of Independence, once wrote in a correspondence letter, “Commerce with all nations, alliance with none, should be our motto” (“Thomas Jefferson”). It is true that throughout the years we have had great success in our military endeavors, but part of what makes America great is that we always strive to follow Jefferson’s example. During World War I, a more bloodthirsty and imperialist nation might have jumped at the chance to carve out land, property, and glory on the battlefield in an earth shaking new battlefront that involved almost all the world’s greatest nations. Instead, our then president Woodrow Wilson said this while addressing Congress in 1914 (the early days of WW1): “Such divisions amongst us would be fatal to our peace of mind and might seriously stand in the way of the proper performance of our duty as the one great nation at peace, the one people holding itself ready to play a part of 7 impartial mediation and speak the counsels Research Papers of peace and accommodation, not as a

partisan, but as a friend� (Duffy).

Shortly after that speech, a series of escalating events forced Wilson’s hand to enter the War, yet the initial reaction of America has never been to enter war and this speech is evidence of that.

Similarly, we did not enter the world stage of war during the Second World War until we were attacked on our own soil during bombing of Pearl Harbor. When America is wounded, our wrath is terrible, as the Nazi and Japanese forces found out. America was instrumental in defeating Hitler, Mussolini, and other dictators during that time. We also single handily ended the war with the first use of nuclear bombs on an enemy target. Our military might has continued throughout the years while we continue to make the world safe for democracy, from the Cold War to our present conflicts in the Middle East.

Though it’s true that when the first countries (England, France, Spain, And Germany) originally settled in the New World, they were in some ways beholden to their respective monarchies; America was never bogged down with centuries of royal rule.

The early colonists developed their own series of laws and governments.

Some colonies were founded as virtual autocracies, under the sole rule of a proprietor, like William Penn in Pennsylvania and Lord Baltimore in Maryland. Some, like Virginia, were first organized as businesses, funded and ruled by a forprofit corporation. Others, like New Jersey and New York, fell somewhere between proprietorships and royal colonies.

(Taylor 146)

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Eventually this changed as England became more intrusive and revoked many of

the colonies’ local governments in place of restoring English monarchical rule (Taylor, 146).

The legislatures born out of the early tumultuous times of America were just as profound as the blood-drenched battlefields. The Declaration of Independence is an objectively beautiful piece of masterful and poignant law creating as the world has ever seen. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” has been oft quoted and reproduced in many forms because of the weight and integrity it commands.

The United States constitution is similarly uniquely written and astounding compared to any other constitution written before or since: Written in 1787, ratified in 1788, and in operation since 1789, the United States Constitution is the world’s longest surviving written charter of government. Its first three words –– ‘We the People’ –– affirm that the government of the United States exists to serve its citizens. (“Constitution Day”) The constitution affirms in its first three words that our nation was created for the liberty of its people. A most elegant and unique document, our constitution, is very fluid and allows for amendments for a changing society.

To say that America is synonymous with innovation is hardly hyperbole. Americans account for 352 of the Nobel Prize winners (jinfo.org). Achievements in STEM fields have rocketed America to the forefront of technology, economic and medical leadership throughout 9 the world. Alexander Graham Bell, Samuel Colt, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Samuel Research Papers

Morse, George Washington Carver, Nikola Tesla, Steve Jobs, Hedy Lamarr, and The Wright Brothers were just some of the American innovators through the years. The list goes on, but those are household names that everyone in the world associates with American ingenuity.

The most iconic and prevalent force of American influence in the entire world can be said to be the influence of our culture, specifically Hollywood.

The 1920’s were when the movie industry began to truly flourish, along with the birth of the ‘movie star’. With hundreds of movies being made each year, Hollywood was the rise of an American force. Hollywood alone was considered a cultural icon set apart from the rest of Los Angeles, emphasizing leisure, luxury, and a growing “party scene.” (“History of the Hollywood Movie”) Anywhere you go in the world, if you drop the name of Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minnelli, James Dean, Marlon Brando, and much more, a resident of whichever country you are in will know exactly who you are talking about. There is a fascination with our country’s film celebrities starting from the silver screen era of the early 20th century until now.

The American music was just as important of an influence on the entire world as the film industry was.

For many, the 20th century was seen as “America’s century.”

It was a century in which the United States’ influence would be felt around the globe. Nowhere is this more true than in the world of music. From jazz to rock, America was the birthplace to some of the most influential music 10 the world had seen-aided, of course, by the popularity of new technologies such as Research Papers

phonographs, and radios (“20th Century Music”).

David Ewen, an Austrian born music critic who wrote many books about music, said this: Of all the contributions made by Americans to world culture— automation and the assembly line, advertising, innumerable devices and gadgets, skyscrapers, super salesmen, baseball, ketchup, mustard and hot dogs and hamburgers—one, undeniably native has been taken to heart by the entire world. It is American popular music. (Ewen 3) In the 1950s, everyone wanted to sound like Chuck Berry.

His contemporaries such as Little Richard, Fats Domino, and Bo Diddley changed the musical atmosphere. It was music that was felt, and it appealed most of all to the youth.

The importance of Black American cultural music such as Jazz and Blues, which morphed into Rock and Roll, cannot be understated. Bob Dylan is an American musician who recently received the Nobel Prize in literature, “For having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition” (“Bob Dylan”).

American pop music continues to dominate all the international charts to this day. Of the top 10 artists of all time, seven are American (Madonna, Elvis Presley, Mariah Carey, Stevie Wonder, Janet Jackson, Michael Jackson, and Whitney Houston) (“Greatest of All Time”), and the three top 10 artists that are not American are English. That most of the top 10 artists are American and the minority are English lends credibility to the claim that our culture’s music is the most influential of all the various countries in the world.

In conclusion, this essay has shown you how from 11 the beginning this country we have had a strong adventurous spirit. That Americans Research Papers

were filled with hardy men and women ready to face the wilderness of a new world. Early on, America showed how shrewd and diplomatic it could be by making dealings with other nations to consolidate the entire continent for American sovereignty. When diplomacy failed, America has always been ready to fight for justice and freedom, anywhere in the world where we are needed. It’s important to note, though, that historically we have always tried to be diplomatic first.

In writing the Declaration of Independence from England, America showed a prescient vision unmatched anywhere in the world, especially for such a young nation. America’s founding fathers, as only truly wise men do, learned from the mistakes of the largely monarchical, and religiously oppressive, European countries from which they came from.

The American Constitution has been amended 27 times, a total of 17 more times since the initial 10 which represent the bill of rights (“Additional Amendments”), which shows that the backbone of the law of our country is flexible and can change with society without losing its core principles of justice and liberty for all.

In the world we live in today, residents of other nations know that our military bases are positioned throughout the world; that when they turn on their television, they see American actors speaking in English; that they have to be taught English as a second language in their schooling; that when they turn on the radio they are listening to American pop music; and that our Presidential election was the talk of every news station from 2015-2016, both in America and abroad.

Other nations look to us and follow America’s lead in many aspects of life. There is a lot of patriotic pride in our country because we know we are the greatest nation that has ever existed. America is very hopeful for our new 12 President Elect Donald J. Trump because he is Research Papers the right man to heal our nation.

“Look, sometimes you need conflict in order to come up with a solution. Through weakness, oftentimes, you can’t make the right sort of settlement, so I’m aggressive, but I also get things done, and in the end, everybody likes me.” – Donald J. Trump

Black, Green, and Gold: Tea’s Introduction to the West Cody Brown On a cold winter’s evening, someone sits down before their fire with a steaming cup of tea. Workers out in the field on a hot midsummer’s day rest in the shade of an expansive oak tree, cups of iced tea in their hands. A traveler sips at a spiced chai and follows the gust of wind carrying autumn leaves down the empty street. Whether taken as a simple alternative to morning coffee or during a formal afternoon meal, tea is a nearly ubiquitous presence the world over. But as with all things, it started its rise to fame long ago as little more than a small mention in the footnotes of more important events. Tea is commonly said to have been discovered by the Chinese in 3000 BCE (Rayment). While that mythic origin is a story all its own, so too is the drink’s introduction and eventual adoption by Western cultures. That is a story of adventure and greed, ambition and hubris. It is a story of tea, and it is one that has influenced politics, fashion, economics, and even war.

For tea to get from its home in China to the nations of the West, a number of important stepping stones first had to be crossed, figuratively speaking. The first of those gaps was bridged by the overland trade network commonly known as the Silk Road. Europeans were sending caravans along these routes as early as the year 60 CE, when the Roman Empire would trade with Asia for silk and 13 spices (Mark). These networks weathered Research Papers all manner of changes in the political

landscape for centuries to come, from the rise of the Islamic Caliphate to the reign of the Mongols (Mark). Marco Polo even embarked on his journey to China along one of the many caravan paths of the Silk Road (“Marco Polo”). But as time went on, the route’s future started to look shaky. Finally, in the early half of the thirteenth century, the Silk Road was shut down to Europeans (Mark). Instead of simply giving up, however, many merchants turned to alternative means of travel to reach their destinations.

To get around this unfortunate closure, European nations began to set sail in an effort to find a path across the ocean that would lead them to Asia, setting off the official start to the Age of Discovery (“China Trade and...”). One such nation which had a little more luck than most was Portugal.

Whereas other ships first looked across the Atlantic and even to the north for passage into Asia, Portuguese merchants and explorers were among the first to find the path south past the Cape of Good Hope in Africa (“China Trade and...”).

While the Portuguese managed to keep this route a secret from competitors, when they were finally annexed into Spain, the two combined forces effectively blocked out all other merchants entirely for a time (Lambert).

During this time, a Jesuit missionary named Father Jasper de Cruz left from Portugal with a group of traders destined for China (“The History of Tea”). During his time in China, de Cruz was introduced to tea by the locals (“The History of Tea”). He was so impressed with the drink that shortly after, he and other missionaries began to ship the leaves throughout all of Europe (“The Princess and...”). But this operation was slow and costly, sometimes carrying a price tag of up to $100 by today’s standards per pound (“The Princess and...”). A more effective means of shipping was needed. Soon, 14 the world would have just that.

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Amid all the changes rocking the economic world at the time, a group of British merchants set out to make one of the biggest splashes of all. This group, formally titled the Governor and Company of Merchants of London Trading into the East Indies and more commonly called the British East India Company, received a royal charter from Queen Elizabeth in the year 1600, granting them exclusive trading rights with the part of the world then known as the East Indies (Dunville).

While spices were the primary concern during the company’s inaugural voyage, focus later shifted to the pillars of cotton, silk, and tea (Dunville). At first, the British East India Company met with fierce competition, but as the Encyclopedia Britannica states, “the [British East India] company’s defeat of the Portuguese in India (1612) won them trading concessions from the Mughal Empire” (“East India Company”). This cemented their place in the eastern world and also opened the path to other nations which might wish to imitate Britain’s financial success.

One of the most notable competitors to Britain at the time was the Netherlands. Despite Britain’s early successes, the Dutch merchants had a head-start in China, having been officially trading with locals there since the first half of the sixteenth century (“China Trade and...”). In 1602, however, the Dutch merchants saw the success the British were having with their new chartered company and set out to make their own. Dubbed the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, or Dutch East India Company, in 1602, this group of merchants became one of the major factors in the eastern world for some time to come (“1602 Trade with...”). But despite their robust and ambitious missions, they were soon put at a disadvantage when, in 1622, the Chinese government banned all Dutch ships from Taiwan, which was at the time one of the biggest trading centers in Asia 15 (“China Trade and...”). Even still, the Dutch Research Papers kept their hold in India and modern-day

Indonesia and remained a powerful force.

While they might not seem like all that big of a deal now, chartered companies were a relatively new way of doing business at the start of the seventeenth century (“China Trade and...”). The British East India Company “was the first state-backed company to make its mark on the world” (“Company that Ruled”). They did this not only through a use of such modern practices as limited liability to shareholders, but also through being given the rights to form a monopoly on all Asian trade via royal decree (Dunville). The backing of the British government only saw the East India Company grow more and more powerful. At its height, it even controlled a standing army of 200,000 soldiers and more land than the modern-day United Kingdom (“Company that Ruled”). But as is often the case, all this power didn’t come free of problems.

Competition from both rival merchants and local governments forced the East India Company to raise an army to protect its interests (“Company that Ruled”). Naturally, an army that has been raised will inevitably see some use on the world stage, and that’s just what happened to the East India Company. While it continued to claim it was concerned with business and business alone, the company’s actions eventually led it to become a colonial power in its own right (“India”). At one point, it even captured Bengal and held it exclusively in its own name, acting as both business and government (“India”).

Far away from the dark stage of Imperial politics, the British population were only just beginning to learn to enjoy tea.

When first introduced to it, the aristocracy was mostly apathetic (Rayment). Tea was expensive and there were options that were just as good that cost 16 less (Rayment). It wasn’t until the reign of King Research Papers Charles II and his wife, Catharine de

Braganza, that the beverage started to gain the popularity it enjoys today (“The History of Tea”).

In 1661, Catarina Henriqueta de Bragança, otherwise known as Duchess Catharine de Braganza, married King Charles II of England. The duchess, who was reported as being “slim and small and inclined to paint her face in the Mediterranean fashion,” brought a large quantity of tea leaves with her as a wedding gift (“The Princess and...”). Tea was already very popular with the Portuguese elite at this time, so such a gift was to be expected (“The Princess and...”). During her time in England, Catharine suffered her own husband’s infidelity and the nation’s general disapproval due to her Catholic faith (“The Princess and...”). And yet despite these factors, it is her influence that is most often attributed to England’s eventual love of tea (Rayment). But even after de Braganza had officially instilled a love of tea in the British aristocracy, how did it come to be viewed as such a cultural icon?

Once tea had caught on with the social elite, England’s lower classes decided they wanted the drink, too (“The History of Tea”). However, the steep price remained a barrier to all but the most wealthy of individuals. There were a few factors that helped alleviate this, though. First, the British East India Company started importing tea directly from land it controlled rather than employing a middle-man (“China Trade and...”). With the extra step out of the way, the price of tea dropped considerably (“The History of Tea”). Secondly, the introduction of tea gardens brought about a way to facilitate the mixing of both upper and lower classes (Rayment).

While the term might be unfamiliar to some, the tea garden was a near-ubiquitous fixture of English 17 culture from the late seventeenth century Research Papers straight through to the Victorian era

(“History of Tea”). The businesses even exist today, although in much lesser numbers than seen at their peak (“Japanese Tea Garden”). The tea garden, in essence, was a public outdoor space dedicated to the serving and drinking of tea. It was a rare place where both nobles and commoners could freely interact (“History of Tea”). While this arrangement worked very well for many, there were a few who wished to change things.

Many in England’s upper class “mourned the growth of tea’s popularity among the country’s poor” due to the increasing availability of the beverage (“History of Tea”). To remedy this situation, Parliament was lobbied to increase taxes so that tea would once again be the territory of the wealthy elite (Rayment). At one point, the tax reached as high as 119 percent (“History of Tea”). This, combined with the British East India Company’s monopoly on trade with China, ended up having some unforeseen consequences on the economy that, in hindsight, should have been fairly obvious even to the people of the time. Tea smugglers started appearing on the market and would often clash with the East India Company ships in their struggles to fill the demand for tea in England’s lower classes (“History of Tea”).

Through times exciting and quiet, good and bad, tea has been an enduring symbol of refinement. Sometimes, this image brought only trouble. Other times, it was something to look up to and aspire toward. Still other times, it was merely something to drink. From its early days on the Silk Road to the final years of the East India Company, tea has had a hand in shaping some of history’s biggest events. While perhaps events would have unfolded similarly without tea, it cannot be denied that its stains have spilled across the pages of history, and those will never be washed away.

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Poetry A Walk to Remember Jessica Daniel Art piece: Flower Meadow by Kevin Hill Walking in step to one another As she twirls her lace umbrella in her lace gloved hands All they smell is the perfume of the flowers As the sun blazes, a light breeze swishes their hair As she twirls her lace umbrella in her lace gloved hands He straightens his gloves as nerves set in As the sun blazes, a light breeze swishes their hair The baby blue ribbons caress her face kissing her cheeks He straightens his gloves as nerves set in They stop at the post, in silence of one another The baby blue ribbons caress her face kissing her cheeks She smiles, passing her hand over the daises as they walk They stop at the posts, in silence of one another All they smell is the perfume of the flowers She smiles, passing her hand over the daises as they walk Walking in step to one another

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Enemy Lines – 8 syllables Sara Clifford I have these damn bad intentions I’m jealous, I’m overzealous I see the world in all its light You see the Earth in black and white I have dreams that surpass the moon I want a sweet, old farmhouse too To reside in the country A fisherman’s wife by the sea A teacher by day with degrees To have the faint ignorant bliss Of a wife, a mother, a dream That old farmhouse filled with laughter Filled with soft cooings of three The floor stampeded, stomped and dashed Of thirty little toes and feet The walls plastered with memories I’m independent, good girl faith When I’m this high I don’t come down Your hopes can’t reach the canopies You say you love the untamed storms But when it comes, you close your door To have and to hold forever Is the place I yearn next to be With a token of love engraved

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On the fourth finger of my hand To raise a large family there

And tails and paws count too, with you I want such dreams that fulfill me But you’re still stuck against time The financial crisis of dimes We exist on such loving terms I’m still frustrated, dreams dreamt But you’re perfect, issues too Poorly wired circuit runs through I push out, you pull back in And got hands like an blue ocean We argue again and again Bask in the glory of fatigue We both see the same point of view I got issues, you got issues I have these damn bad intentions And one of them is I need you

Honestly Haley Melton Poem Inspired by Art I’ve heard of you so uncommon it seems the lucky few whose constant is new hopes and dreams your everyday outlook, I hope it hits me like a beam Transform me into something greater than myself make me as important as those dusty tales I shelf Great stories of a famous greek traveler or an English man with an act for unraveling string

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a rebel of sorts the everyday unraveler like a classical tale you must dig to see what I mean.

My agenda is hidden within an old and tattered page more often than not my purpose is found within a cage and what really appears as old and forgotten is space age.

New and shiny just as cold as metal should be so clean and reflective it’s you, you will see frightened by what you can’t accept you flee What do you run from, and where do you go? would I know if I saw it, if I’ve been would I know?

The places in this world only a few may see of these great cities and forgotten buildings that hold a sacred memory like a camera whose picture you couldn’t take properly only a feeling of that carnival and the few seconds you rode gleefully.

A day filled with nothing new but nothing old it’s just as translucent as a storytellers stories that can never be told when it comes to money his dollars are already sold while playing poker he bets after his fold.

The yellow brick road has turned white due to time it’s full of holes and scratched surfaces plus a stolen outline we can’t accept that things change so we call it a crime so easily accepting one day that road will pay his fine disregarding the fact that if you have lost your way maybe I’ve lost mine We place blame on people due to a feeling or radical thought we don’t learn from the lessons that have already been taught

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we don’t remember the battles we have already fought in a time with so little we take a lot.

Even the world’s most extraordinary civilizations have fallen before when we know there’s nothing left we dig deeper hoping for more with our leaders in denial an economical and ecological collapse is in store.

Quit trying to spend money you don’t own stop trying to grow wings when we have already flown enough of trying to be the first to reach the unknown!

caves Cameron Wiggins the basement downstairs has no light just a trickle of water flowing through the foundation that splashes spiders down from low hanging cobwebs then ebb away. the steps bow to feet tiptoeing pressing the grooves on the wall and reaching the gravel at the bottom. he finds some pebbles and throws them into the black listening to echoes and splashes before careening forward himself onto the stepping stones.

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Descriptive Poem Kelly Mims This is where I choose to sit Cascade Flats Calm, cool, complacent.

Water like a sheet of glass Generating its own soft, sweetly fragranced breeze.

The raging sounds of fast moving water Just beneath the surface A pristine reflection of the fall sky, that tastes like rain Motionless The reflection As the neatly manicured grass Gently tickles my fingertips and my toes That sweetly fragranced breeze Like apples, and freshly cut grass Rising up to me Goosebumps emerge on my skin from the damp chill it provides Here I sit Like this mighty, motionless river Calm.

Cool.

Complacent.

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Lisa Roney’s Serious Dating Pathway 3.3 Dan Tracy I knew how it felt To flip gravity the bird As a small child My brother tossing me and My insignificant weight My explosive laughter So high in the air I was above all the earth The tendons in his hands Somewhat seen but hidden No strain, no fatigue, and no slipping of grip Looking down No faith needed When test after test Shows reliance and something constant It was easy to smile then Like a machine he’d prepare for lift Unlike parents and governments Big brother actually knew best Looking down brought no vertigo then A strange mirror of future biology Goals, dreams, everything I wanted to be Strong, intuitive, and happy

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real estate, housefire.

Faust Case your mother paints signs for a garden sale; violent and primary a smattering of garish glitter across grinning flowers light glances & glitters through crystal windows, across your cold feather bed— (the rooms still feel forsaken the ‘bottles by the windows dull, like no one ever touched them) in aureate afternoon, we sit where the sun will burn auburn from our hair— and i think, i love you in a summer dress, while lazy bees hum by,

—or maybe wasps,

and your absent mother (with pearls on her neck, freckle-dusted hands that could speak of kindness

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if they didn’t break you) laughs to say how she misses florida, because the sun was warm there and once i may have felt something burning all-consuming like

anger, gunmetal fear

and i might have built a pyre for every memory i had of you, hated, and breathed hate but i have eaten this ash— & you have branded into me, and begged for forgiveness i have never known how to give, and ghosts will creep from my throat up dusty sunny walls to dim the day in the house where you grew up.

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Untitled Cameron Thomas I was living my life, free from care I was bold, I was brash To slow down, I wouldn’t dare I took a trip, and hoped I wouldn’t crash But crash I did For that day, my breath was stolen from me I was struck dumb, for there she stood The most beautiful thing ever, hiding behind her hood I stood there, with my mouth slightly open Words escaped me, my thoughts escaped me My legs did not work, my body seemed to betray me For when I looked in her eye, time stopped I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think Words would not come out I stood there as if I were staring over the brink My destruction was near, I could sense it, I welcomed it Those piercing blue eyes captivated my soul She had struck me in such a way that I could not see My knees were weak, to steady myself, I had to grab a pole

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Beholding her face, I thought “this cannot be”

Here is an angel sent from heaven Clearly she has been placed here for me Though she doesn’t know it at this moment But I would make this woman my wife Her hair was a stunning shade of brown Her skin was the most perfect shade She stood proud, not wanting to give away her thoughts Our eyes connected and a bond was formed, though she knew it not I was smitten, her blue eyes were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen In the two seconds our eyes were connected A whole conversation was said I professed my love to her, though she did not hear I made a covenant with her to love and to cherish her forever She heard it not I promised to never hurt her, to take care of her forever She heard it not She looked away and broke me from my stupor She turned and walked away I had no choice, I had to follow this woman She broke me, and I was willing Days past, she went away

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I was devastated, the world seemed dim Colors faded, things seemed out of touch My thoughts returned to her I could not be with her, my soul screamed for her I pined for this woman, who had shown me real life I had to be with her, for she had stolen my heart Against all advice, I ran after her Though I did not know it at the time This would be the best decision of my life I chased, and she welcomed me, life was sublime I could finally breathe, for there was no more strife Time passed, celebrations abound Our lives became intertwined I am so glad she decided to stick around Because she still takes my breath away.

Descriptive Poem 1 Grace Brochu A light breeze carrying the smell of coffee and baguettes, rustles my hair.

A waitress walks by carrying a tray with freshly baked goods, warm and ready to eat.

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The chatter of coffee cups, an ever present ringing in my ears.

Coffee, black, bitter yet sweet, sits in front of me as a daunting blackness begging to be drunk.

The taste of a croissant au beurre, a welcome reminder of french culture Quiet conversations float through the air, carrying secrets meant only for select years.

The porcelain cup in my hand a warmth and a promise of a good day to come.

The cobble streets under my feet, a remind of the past not so long ago.

The crisp air of the night, turns to warmth as summer days chase away cool nights.

The quiet night streets begin to fill as a new day begins.

The Eiffel tower standing guard over the city of paris, a quiet sentinel.

A feeling of ease, This is my place. Je t'aime de tout mon coeur

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Descriptive Poem 2 Grace Brochu Coffee, Black, bitter yet sweet.

The small coffee shop grows busy.

Porcelain cups, white as the clouds hold blackness.

Chattering coffee cups ring as the sun rises The smell of baked goods brushes by.

Content, calm, serene.

The crisp night breeze turns to summer warmth.

The sky hues of pink, orange, red and blue.

Stars fade while clouds form like beautiful puffs of cotton.

Lights turn on in the early morning haze.

As a new day begins holding a promise of the future.

Cobble stone pathways an ever reminder of the past.

Love,Affection,Passion The city of love and light.

Paris, the heart of the world.

The Eiffel Tower stands tall on the horizon.

A silent sentinel guarding Parisians.

Vendors doors open with a clatter.

Tourists flock to the smells and noises enticing them closer.

This is my place.

Je t’aime de tout mon coeur.

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Unsettled Reflections Matthew Douglas Peering through the forest to watch the waves crash The Sun reflects off the water, showing me a vibrant blue In the distance a whale breaches, creating a monstrous splash Sights like these are way overdue.

Clouds contort into unrecognizable shapes Moving in front of the Sun and blocking her rays I enjoy the cool shade before the Sun escapes She shines again urging me to traverse new trails and pathways.

I gaze one last time at the tranquility before the Sun starts to set Not knowing whether this path will be the beginning or the end I hesitate to start as I see your silhouette Now knowing this path will only lead to a dead end.

I hear the foliage crunch and I peer around the corner with despair This is the beginning of a recurring and endless nightmare.

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Photo courtesy Jodi Renshaw, Studio 36

Just A Break Amelia Crise A break we must take, After a long day of earned burning aches.

We know what will come in the morning, Yet we never heed the tell-tale warning.

We can try to soothe the gnawing pain, But our efforts are usually in vain.

We just want to hear their exuberant praise, But is it even worth the minute raise?

At night we toss and turn, But still we never learn.

Is my heart even in the right place?

Or is this all going to blow up in my face?

I wake in the morning with same dead feeling.

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I lay there awake just staring at the ceiling.

Can I do this anymore?

Every day it seems more like a taxing chore.

The weight on my shoulders, Seems like more than a thousand boulders, How can I break these chains?

The pain never seeming to wane.

They say they are empty inside; However, all things aside— They don’t know real shame And the endless cycle of defeating blame.

The sun is shining, But I seem to always be whining.

This life of evil has taken its toll.

I can’t even remember the end goal.

But how can I change?

It all just seems a bit strange.

It has been so long; I guess I’ll just have to be strong.

For now, all I get is a break.

Maybe one day I can sit by the glorious lake.

To leave this life behind…

How could I be so incomprehensibly blind?

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Lisa Roney’s Serious Daring Pathway 4.4: Love-Hate Randy Larue My condolences, I cannot either love, nor hate you Pain you teach me; lessons never to recur But your lessons; they leave me defeated and siphoned of will They make me stronger; but self-preservation protests rampantly You show me what I can survive; but tempt me with death’s door Saying if you survive; you are not the same as before But if you don’t you will hold me back and retrogress like a kindergartner going to back pre-school I love; I am no longer the runt of the litter Surviving inhuman struggles as a testament to my resilience Or maybe my stubbornness After each gruesome mark you leave on my existence It heals and becomes twice as strong Never to be tricked twice; your mark burns me with remembrance That no teacher ever could I would thank you, but you leave the benefits in a labyrinth And I have to find them through each spiral of detriment Your spirals; leave rubble equivalent to San Francisco; or Haiti All through my logical infrastructure; leaving years of construction Disabled, as if they’d been abandoned in a

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moment of fear I enter your state; feeling

dazed,confused and stunned This is your faucet of existence; where you govern And I do ask; are you a stimuli of hospitality Or are you volatile like the experiences you emit I enter your home everyday; and you create harm Either physically or mentally then leave A tome of our time; stating why this was necessary For my growth you say detriment is necessary And you are yet to be proven wrong; but that doesn’t justify you Oh painful bargainer of knowledge; I apologize I cannot give you the label of love or hate For I am merely a vessel of existence, an offshoot of its vein Where I am sure; you are much more closer to the heart and mind I am a part of you as much as you are of me; therefore I must seek to understand You give me knowledge of myself; that shamefully I can’t even do myself

Haiku Seth King Priorities off The ultimate price was paid Live it up for now.

Something in exchange Bargains made, buyer beware.

This was unexpected.

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How vain can one be?

When will enough be enough?

Time will be the judge.

Couplet Seth King Back in the day, there was a quite conceited man, named Dorian Gray.

Gluttonous and indulgent his habits abhorred him. To the point of excess He stressed and he fussed about the way that he dressed, he was a sight to see many say.

Handsome and charming, to the point it’s alarming, no one would guess at his blight Try as he might, he was losing the fight, so struck up a deal on a most fateful night.

Despite his sweet tooth, his aim was eternal youth, a bargain would be made for this claim.

The Devil did help him, but not with out exceptions. The portrait would show his true face.

A grimaced visage, gruesomely pocked and scarred. This painting reflects his true age.

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Ballad Seth King A portrait uncharacteristically terrible What a life to live His conceit so great the effects should be unbearable What in that deal did he give?

The furthest from pure and chaste Nothing but the finest food and drink, He was a man of sophisticated taste How long can he keep this up? one would think Total abandon was his typical fashion Something must be done he thought.

Without hesitation he struck up a bargain And thought that he dodged the cost Mistaken was he when first the painting he did see For the portrait showed what his body did not As time marches on, forever young he would be His body stays the same, but the painting would rot.

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Three Cubs Villanelle Nicholas Gaucher Three cubs climb joyfully A hollow tree for a ladder They climb and claw so haplessly One balanced so high and haphazardly Hidden away from their mother Three cubs climb joyfully Two down low stare fervently Ready to climb to their towering brother They climb and claw so haplessly The towering cub swipes absently Worried to be the defender Three cubs climb joyfully Nothing here is to be shared equably Both down low ready to be the contester They climb so haplessly All their time spent so youthfully Three cubs could not be happier Three cubs climb joyfully They climb so haplessly

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Article Response “The Way of All Flesh” Lensa Woodward “The Way of All Flesh”: Undercover in an Industrial Slaughter House. Ted Conover. Harper’s Magazine. May 2013.

This article is a very detailed look into the life of man who briefly worked as a USDA meat inspector at a slaughter house. Cattle being funneled down the “Temple Grandin’s doomsday ramp” into the kill room, blood splattered workers, dismembered cattle, and ‘parts’ attached to hanging hooks being whisked off to different rooms. USDA workers slicing open hearts, kidneys & skinned heads checking for abscesses, infection, and possible diseases.

This is a gruesome nasty article that inspired me to want to vomit and never eat another piece of meat again, not that I regularly consume meat, because I don’t! I could almost smell the nasty smell of freshly slaughtered meat.

“There’s a lot of steam (those innards are still hot) and splashing as the viscera hit the table with a plop.” Pg. 38 10th paragraph.

As a child growing up on a small family farm, we raised and slaughtered chickens. In the crisp cold fall afternoons, I was all of 5 years old, chasing the headless-chickens around until they fell to their death, picking them up and taking them up to the porch. My father would 41 pick them up by their feet and dip them Article Response

into a huge pot of boiling water, for this, for some reason, made plucking the feathers off more easily. Stink! The smell of hot wet feathers, fresh dripping blood, and the gruesome innards that we were about to pull out. I will never forget that smell for the rest of my life; worse than a wet dog! My little hand reaching easily up into the warm, welcoming, wet cavity of the chicken pulling out various organs. Turning to my Dad I would ask, “What is this?” A blue organ, why was it blue? Why would a chicken have something blue inside them that was so necessary in keeping this animal alive? Five years old, I already had ideas of what colors should and should not be inside a body, blue was definitely not an appropriate color in my world. I repeatedly pulled organs out, I would rather do that than pluck the feathers off, as it was cold outside, the feathers wet, my hands little. The warmth of the inside of the chickens cavity was welcoming as it warmed my hand each time I reached in for yet another surprise organ.

The author wrote this article about his personal experience at Cargill Meat Solutions in a small town in Nebraska. The detail enclosed within this article exposes the everyday operation of the factory and the job of a USDA meat inspector. Publishing this article could certainly bring about further scrutiny of the system. It does provide the general public with very detailed look inside. This article can bring up questions of safety, both in regards to workers and the safety of ingestion of the meat itself, whether by humans or pet food. “USDA inspection has the bigger budget, reflecting a belief from bygone days that meat carries the greater risk of contamination: without a USDA stamp, meat cannot leave a slaughterhouse.” Pg 35 4th paragraph. The article also exposes the overuse of antibiotics in cattle feed. “…… I keep track of how many livers inspectors mark out with abscesses, and they use it to monitor the use of antibiotics in the feed.”

42 Pg 48, bottom of 1st column. This clearly states Article Response that antibiotics are fed to cattle daily,

that by eating meat we are ingesting pharmacologicals of some sort. That brings about a lot of questions of safety, questions regarding long term effects on humans, what is it doing to the cattle?

I can only speculate the reasons why the author wrote this article. A glimpse into slaughter house role of our meat intake.

A way to expose the truth about what you are eating. A lesson about working hard, not giving in to the pain and injury of repetitive motions, and being responsible. Did the author want to teach us a lesson? It sounded like he was going to look into a teaching job. Did the author like to write?

The questions are endless. Should we be questioning more about the use of antibiotics in cattle? Everyone should stop and think about what you are eating and where your food comes from. Are slaughter houses humane? Granted, Temple Grandin designed the entrance to be more soothing to cattle; but is it humane to half-kill cattle?

“From time to time an animal kicks violently, sporadically.

‘They are not really dead yet,’ says Carolina, which I can hear because she’s close to my ear and it’s slightly less loud in here. In most cases, apparently, what she says is true and intentional: the pumping of their hearts will help drain the blood from their bodies once their necks are sliced open.”

Bottom of Pg 34-35.

Think about it.

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Essays Rubik’s Cube Austin Mason Solving a Rubik’s Cube is very frustrating--spending all of this time trying to get all of colors to match up, so that I have all of the six colors grouped together at the end. Once all of the colors match up, a huge sense of relief occurs. Wait a minute; that can be related to life itself: spending all of my time trying to get different aspects to match up at the end, to get that sense of relief and happiness. Life is a lot like solving a Rubik’s Cube, where each side represents an aspect of life.

I’ll start with the green side: love. Depending on the type of person, people try to either find love at a young age, or some people try to enjoy being young while they can, and focusing on settling down later. Either way, chasing love is the main goal. I have personally gone through a few trials and errors, like having a girlfriend, then breaking up down the road, and repeating the process a couple more times, then eventually finding out that I’m the problem. This will go on throughout life, but at the end of it all, love is the goal. Finding that love, makes the rest of the Rubik’s Cube just a little bit easier.

Having the green side all figured out, I’ll move over to the red side: education. Education starts at a very young age.

Between the ages of four to six is when education really kicks off. This of course, for some people doesn’t end until their late 20’s or early 30’s, and for some people it ends 44 much sooner. My goal is to have a master’s degree in whichever major I choose. This Essays

will require at least five more years of schooling, which won’t be easy. But because I have set this goal, if I achieve it, the happiness will far outweigh the struggle it took to get there.

Having two of the six sides figured out, the Rubik’s Cube gets a little harder.

Keeping the green and red side all matched, while trying to figure out the blue and orange side is nearly impossible.

These two sides can represent the social aspect in life, along with home life. As a college commuter, I have to balance a couple things. I have to find time for friends and for family. To be completely honest, these two aspects can help out with the education aspect as well. I need that support from friends and family at home to keep me sane. If I’m stressing over schoolwork, homework, or a project, I always go to friends and family. Sometimes I even put my friends and family before my work, but sometimes that’s just what I need.

Two sides left! With only four sides done, I can already feel some sort of relief set in. This next side, the white side, may be the most stressful; work. I work at a local grocery store in Bucksport. Dealing with all different types of customers, during rushes and slow times, can always take a toll. Sometimes I just want to get the hell out of there. But it’s a job, a source of income, money for gas and for food. I can’t complain about that no matter how much it may suck at times. Having that paycheck at the end of week does so much for someone.

This side may take a little more time to get all together, because everyone has good and bad days, but once it sets in that having a job is a good thing, that side is complete.

The last side. In my opinion, this side is one of the more important of all the sides, because this provides a sense of comfort, confidence, and happiness.

The yellow side is the health aspect, which I personally value very much. Working out

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and eating right is a great feeling. Staying in shape after high school is always hard, and staying in shape for the rest of your life is even harder, but I believe that if I can manage that, it will do so much for my confidence. I have been in and out of shape throughout my 18 years on this earth, and I never feel better than when I’m in shape and eating right. Finally, the Rubik’s Cube is finished.

On the surface, it may not seem like a Rubik’s Cube is like life, but when you think about it, it kind of is. Once you have gotten all of the sides to match, the Rubik’s Cube is complete and you feel a huge sense of relief. Well, when all of the six aspects of life are fulfilled to your happiness, it’s a great feeling. The process is challenging, and sometimes you have to go a few steps backwards to get the next side to match up, but it’s all about making the necessary adjustments to get all of the sides to match up.

Apple Pie Analysis Caitlyn Tracy When the leaves start to change, and become tinged with orange yellow and red, fall is upon us. However, in my opinion, it is not yet fall until I have made fresh baked apple pie. To me it screams, “Fall is here!” For this essay, I will be analyzing a homemade apple pie. Apple pie is one of fall’s most rewarding sweet treats. The smell will stimulates my senses, the sight makes me hungry, and the taste awakens my soul. Homemade apple pie is amazing.

The first thing I notice is the smell. The sweet and savory apples, laced with cinnamon, and a hint of nutmeg. The delicious aroma consumes my house, bringing my senses alive, and causing my mouth to 46 water uncontrollably.

Essays

This exact aroma reminds me of the many Thanksgivings of my childhood, when I would assist my mother with the seasonal baking. Preparation of the apple pie was my assignment, and I took it very seriously, ensuring that all the measurements were precise. It is not officially fall in my house until my kitchen is cloaked with that similar, yet never the same, fragrance of fresh homemade apple pie.

The next thing I acknowledge is the overall appearance.

Apple pie must cook at 375 degrees, for a minimum of thirty minutes to have the proper consistency. The crust must be covered with foil for the first twenty minutes to ensure it does not burn, and it is recommended to moisten the crust with a thin layer of water or butter. If you follow these precise steps, the end result is a sight to behold. My apple pie came out of the oven steaming, golden yellow, crispy, and looking rather festive, with three decorative maple leaves I had etched into the crust, for ventilation. When served on a plate, I can observe the light brown caramel sauce, speckled with the cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as the apples (once crispy now soft), slowly ooze from beneath the flakey layers of the crust.

Once the pie has cooled just enough to consume, I grab my fork and slice a small piece, careful ensure that I have plenty of crust to compliment the sweet and gooey, apple filling.

The first bite awakens my taste buds, and they embrace the sugar and cinnamon, like a long lost friend. As my taste buds dance and play (reminiscing in previous years of which they have become well acquainted), my soul feasts in the moment, accepting the luscious, sticky, sweet and salty reward. I cannot eat just one slice of heaven, so of course, I grab another.

Apple pie is rewarding on so many levels, whether it be sparking a childhood

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memory, bringing all of your senses alive, or the overall taste of satisfaction and accomplishment. The finished product emerges from the oven looking magnificent, and smelling of cold fall evenings; past and presents. Fall, my favorite season of the year, is officially here! With it comes the beautiful changing of the leaves, harvesting of fresh fruit, and thereafter, baking. However, it is not officially fall in my house, until it smells of fresh homemade apple pie.

How to Become a Disney Princess Grace Brochu Every little girl dreams of becoming a princess. She imagines attending balls and living in a huge castle. Steps need to be taken and actions need to be committed in order for a girl to become a princess in the world of Disney. There are three vital steps that any girl must take to become a Disney princess. The first step for an aspiring Disney princess is to come from a horrible background with a grueling step mother and or step sisters. The second step is to make sure that she gets into some form of trouble, whether she is turned into a frog or has her voice stolen. The third and final step is her rescue from this troubled state by the prince.

In step one the girl must come from a home that in some way or another has been struck by tragedy, whether it be her father who died at a young age leaving her and her mother to fend for themselves or the loss of both of her parents leaving her to work as a maid for her stepmother and stepsisters. From the tragic loss of Cinderella’s parents to having to help her mother pay the bills by working two jobs, every aspiring Disney princess must have a tragedy in her life that turns her into a grounded and well-rounded person. It won’t hurt if she knows how to sing and 48 talk to animals as well. In Cinderella’s tragic Essays story her mother dies while Cinderella

is just a small child leaving her and her father alone on their farm. A few years later her father remarries a horrid woman called Lady Tremaine, who has two daughters named Drizella and Anastasia. Soon after her father passes and her stepmother and stepsisters start to treat Cinderella as the maid. This is a great example of a horrible backstory for a future Disney princess; with the horrible backstory set, the next step is for the future princess to get in trouble.

The second step and one of the most crucial steps is for the young girl to get in trouble, whether by being tricked into giving up her voice to have legs instead of a tail or by being turned into a frog when she tries to help a frog prince turn back into a human. In every Disney princess movie at least one of the main characters, that typically is a girl, gets into some form of trouble along the way. In Princess and the Frog, Tiana kisses a frog that is really prince Naveen to help turn him back into a human but ends up being turned into a frog herself. In The Little Mermaid, Ariel gives her voice up to Ursula in order to have legs so she can chase after the man she loves. If the girl who wishes to become a Disney princess does not get in trouble then she is doomed to fail and will never be able to be rescued by a prince. If she does, however, get into trouble then that leads to the final step that a Disney princess must take.

The last and final step in becoming a Disney princess is to be rescued by their knight in shining armor, also known as their prince. Almost all Disney princess are saved one way or another by a prince. In the classic Disney movie Sleeping Beauty, Aurora is saved from the evil Maleficent who put a sleeping curse on her and her entire kingdom. Aurora is a classic example of the perfect way to get rescued by a prince. In order to save her the prince has 49 to battle a dragon, climb his way through Essays a huge thorn bush and give her a

kiss that will wake her from the curse. In the end of every Disney princess movie, the girl ends up with the prince (or occasionally the guy ends up with the princess). This step is the final and most precious step in the process of becoming a Disney princess.

Some may ask if I would like to be a Disney princess. Well the answer is yes, who would not love the life of lavish parties and beautiful ball gowns and being married to the man of their dreams. If every future princess, myself included, follows these steps she is sure to find her prince charming. These three steps make becoming a Disney princess easy and unchallenging.

All she needs to remember is to have a horrible family life, perhaps the loss of one or both of her parents. Get into some form of trouble, maybe involving a dragon of some sort and then have a prince save her. With the completion of these three easy steps the Disney Princess is able to live out her dream of becoming and holding the title of princess and in the end living happily ever after.

Maine Milfoil Jonathan Warren I like to drink fresh water straight from the water tap. The water that comes from the tap comes from a nearby lake.

Imagine if that lake was taken over by an invasive plant species. Now that water from that lake is undrinkable. People might be wondering how this could even happen. Well, there is a plant called milfoil and it is native neither to Maine nor to America. What this plant does is it grows out of control and chokes out all plants and animals. So what the state of Maine does to prevent this wild plant from spreading is they hire Courtesy Boat Inspectors or, for short, CBI. I am one of these inspectors, and I follow three important 50 steps that keep milfoil from spreading: the Essays introduction, the inspection and, the

paper work. The introduction includes approaching boaters before they put they float their boat. The second step is where the CBI inspects the boat for any milfoil. The last is the step paper work with the boater; that concludes the inspection.

The introduction is very important because let’s be honest if I was a boater and came across some goof in the middle of the woods wearing a bright yellow shirt with a giant green plant printed on the front I would be skeptical to approach that person. So it is important for the CBI to introduce themselves. The best way to break the ice and gather the boater’s attention is to approach them with a big smile and shake their hand. After introducing themselves, the CBI needs to inform the boater why they are there and what they are looking for when they inspect the boat. It is also a good thing to mention that the state funds the CBI facility and staff members. Mentioning this lets the boater know it is mandatory for that specific boat launch that all boat must be inspected by a CBI. If these steps are followed, the boater will be much more willing to let the CBI inspect the boat for milfoil.

Milfoil grows very long much like a vine making it very easy to get caught on boats, trailers and even vehicles. There are many places milfoil can be so it can be stressful to know where to begin the inspection. I suggest starting from the stern (rear) and work towards the bow (front). The most important places to look would be the bunks, propeller/prop, and underneath the boat. While conducting the inspection, I teach the boater how to conduct a self-inspection and also include some basic information about the dangers of milfoil.

It is also important to take a few glances at the trailer and truck so nothing goes unseen. After inspecting the boat, I take a quick look at the anchor, ropes, live well, 51 and any fishing gear for milfoil. Once the boat Essays is safe to go in the water by the CBI, then

comes the stack of paper work.

The CBI plays an important role because every boat has to be correctly documented in case the lake was ever infected with milfoil. Since the boat launch is owned by the state of Maine all boaters are required to fill out Boat Tag Applications and Permits before putting their boat on the water. The first paper is the Boat Tag Application most boaters need a brief summary of what this paper is. Here is an example of how I summarize the paper: “What this paper says is that all boats must have proper tags, that the boat must be inspected visually by myself or by the boater, and that every boater needs a valid permit from the CBI.” The second paper is what the CBI fills out which is the Permit sheet. For a boater to receive a permit they need to just simply allow me to take down their bow number and let me look at their boat for milfoil. Once that is successfully done the CBI will write out a permit for the boater. Note all permits are only good for one day. Permits are only good for one day because if they were good for an entire season the boaters could just ignore the CBI and put their boats in whenever.

It is always important to remember that Maine lakes are highly valued by the residents and many tourists. Keeping Maine’s waters safe is everybody’s job and together I personally believe we all can prevent the spreading of milfoil.

Remember to always inspect all water gear and remember the risks milfoil has.

Personal Compare/Contrast Essay Ann Morrison Many people will tell you that cats do not have personalities. I have heard this statement on 52 several different occasions throughout my Essays life. Personally, I do not believe that

statement carries any truth. All cats have extremely different personalities. I have three pet cats in my household. My cats have many similarities, because all three of them are cats, but they also all have a tremendous number of differences.

Weasley is a quiet and older male coon cat. Steve is a loud and attention seeking female. I thought she was a boy when I named her, but I was mistaken. By the time I learned the truth about her gender, she already had learned her name was Steve. My youngest cat, Mr. Business, is a playful black and white kitten. Not only are my felines different physically, but my cats each have their own unique personality. Most notably, the three cats differ in how they beg for food, what they like to do in their down time, and how they show me affection.

The first difference in my three cats is the different ways that they all beg for food. When Weasley wants food, I am often the first person to know. He will not leave me alone, licks my feet and jumps on me while he purrs. Weasley likes to butter me up when he his hungry. He refuses to stop cuddling with me. Generally, he becomes more loving towards me when he is hungry. Steve, however, is not so loving when she’s begging for food. Steve will constantly hiss at me when she’s been food deprived. She will bite or claw me every chance she has. Steve likes to take the approach of making me angry until I feed her. She has been this way her entire life. When Steve was a kitten, she clawed me so hard, I had to go to the hospital. She had clawed me because I had forgotten to feed her. I don’t forget to feed her very often anymore, because I don’t want to feel her wrath. My new kitten, Mr. Business, takes the most practical approach. He stands by his empty dish meowing as loud as he can. Mr. Business will not stop meowing until he receives his meal. It doesn’t matter what time it is. If he’s hungry and 53 I’m sleeping, then he will wake me up with a Essays resounding kitten meow. Although all my

cats will let me know if they are hungry, they all beg for food in completely different ways.

Another difference between my three furry friends is how they like to spend their downtime. Weasley likes to spend his downtime relaxing. He is older, so most of his toys from his kitten days do not appease him anymore. Weasley likes to spend his downtime sleeping by the window on a sunny day, or cuddling on my lap when the weather is chilly. I really look forward to cold nights, because I know I will get a snuggle from Weasley. When he’s not sleeping or cuddling, I can usually catch him profoundly looking out the window.

He gets the most enjoyment out of watching leaves blow around the yard. Steve, on the other hand, is only a year old. She is still very active. Steve likes to spend her downtime playing with her toys. She has a copious number of fake mice. Steve often is playing with one of them. When I notice she is in a playful mood, sometimes I will dangle an old shoe string in front of her. She loves to catch it. Steve would play that game for hours at a time if I kept playing with her. Steve also likes anything she can scratch. She can spend hours clawing on her various scratching posts. Mr. Business is the most mischievous out of my three cats. He likes to spend his downtime running around the house and knocking my belongings over. I have bought him plenty of toys, but unlike Steve, he has no interest in them. I am always catching him running up and down the hallways rapidly. He often runs around so fast that he runs right into the walls! Mr. Business sleeps the least out of the three cats during his downtime.

Although I love watching him be so playful, I’m excited for him to get a bit older so he calms down. All three of my cats love their downtime, but they all choose to spend that time doing their own activities.

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Weasley, Steve, and Mr.Business all have their own ways of giving me affection.

Weasley likes to cuddle with me the least out of all the cats, but I can still feel his love. While sometimes he enjoys a good snuggle sessions, he shows his love in other ways too.

Whenever I get out of the shower he likes to try to lick my feet dry. Although most of the time I find this most annoying, I know he is doing it because he’s trying to help me. Weasley always greets me at the door every time I walk in the house.

He doesn’t do much once I’m inside, but I know he is saying hello to me. While Weasley likes to show affection from afar, Steve likes to show me affection by touching me as much as possible. Steve is constantly falling asleep on my legs. She loves to turn my lap into her own comfortable bed. Steve is always kneading at my legs and licking my hands. Steve likes to give off the impression she’s independent, but in all reality she’s just a cuddle bug. Unlike the other two cats, Mr. Business hasn’t yet figured out his favorite way to show me affection.

The first three weeks I had him he acted disinterested in cuddling with me. The only way he showed me any affection, at first, was by climbing up my legs. I quickly broke this habit he had because it was very painful. Now that he is a tad older, Mr. Business likes to show his affection to me by wrapping himself around my neck like he is a scarf. At times I still find this a little annoying, but I also find it quite precious, so I don’t try attempt to move him. My three cats all have different methods of giving me affection, but I know they all love me the same.

These three aspects of my cats’ lives show how they all differ in their personalities. Weasley is extra loving when he wants food, calm during his downtime, and shows me love from afar. Steve is angry when she’s hungry, playful in her downtime, and shows me her affection by cuddling. Mr. Business is loud when he needs to eat, rambunctious during his downtime, and likes to act as my 55 scarf when he’s showing me sentiment. In Essays some ways, my cats are just like every

other cat. They get hungry, tired, and affectionate. Despite this fact, all my feline friends express themselves in their own unique style. My cats prove that on the outside felines might all seem very similar, but all cats have their very own personalities.

Creative Writing Show Down with the Most Feared Good-bye Alexis Rivas Death, much like a skilled hunter armed with deadly and precise intentions, has ruthlessly decided to pursue this particular young woman. Stalking her like a dangerously obsessed boyfriend, it refuses to be shaken. The moment the young woman perilously catches her breath, believing she has finally rid herself of the unwanted caller, it chooses to rebelliously peek out from a place she has desperately been unwilling to look. With a false type of benevolent mercy, Death has spitefully found and released her beautiful talented and troubled younger sister from the dizzying merrygo-round ride of addiction she was unable to disembark from with heroin.

What death could never understand in its cruel seeking for life is that each time it sneaks around and reaches out to touch a cherished loved one; the spirit of that physically extinguished person intertwines with this young woman’s wounded soul. She becomes infused with an eternal perspective otherwise unknown while simultaneously gaining a renewed spiritual strength reinforcing 56 her personal resolve to overcome this most Essays/ heinous of extremely cunning thieves.

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A brief but intense courtship with Death while in her early twenties, which was only narrowly escaped, has infuriated death to the point that it will go to any lengths to try to tighten its loosening grip on her unwavering decision to overcome its selfish and deceitful promises. The potentially deadly tryst with Death began when her senses became heightened and alerted to Deaths allure and dark attractive presence which enticed her with lies of profound eternal silence and false blanketing peace.

The short-lived but almost fatal affair with Death was heroically halted when Life and Truth came to her urgent and appointed rescue. Life spoke to her in the very deepest pit that Death could have ever attempted to ensnare her in. Death had been tempting her in the most sensuous and seductive voice she had ever heard while promising her a very real end from the turmoil she believed she could no longer handle believing she was utterly alone. It was at that precise moment that Truth appeared alongside Life and voiced its weighty and valued objection. Truth told her the opposite of everything Death had lied to her about and Truth proved itself with actions which Death never did nor ever could. Truth and Life embraced her and led her on a journey which introduced her to Love.

Love was a very real aspect of Life and Truth and the three of them took the young woman to a place where Death had no jurisdiction, couldn’t penetrate, and had no authority.

Life, Truth, and Love had a different and distinct sound which her worn spirit fervently needed and was anxious to hear.

While Death had triggered her deepest fears and insecurities by relentlessly telling her how everyone would be better off without her, how she was only ruining things, how she was insignificant, a waste of breath, and a 57 complete loser; Life, Love, and Truth tenderly Creative Writing told her just the opposite‌her birth was

planned before she was ever conceived in her mother’s womb, the hairs on her head are counted, she is fearfully and wonderfully made, and her rising up and sleeping are all accounted for as well as the exact place where she resides.

She soon came to the deep realization that the cycles, rotations, and circulations within and all around her were calling her to become the very thing she was designed for; living life. Every day now, as her grateful feet plant themselves on the ground, she wholeheartedly embraces the gifts taught to her by Life, Truth, and Love.

Death, she has finally concluded, is a liar. Spring reinforces this visible truth every time little green shoots come up after what appears as a bare, depressing, and dead winter. With hard won finality, she says a welcomed goodbye to the one thing that has tormented her for far too long. To Death she says a deeply deserved and permanent farewell. Its sting has been powerfully removed, as this young woman welcomes the days and even the eternity for which her spirit is ultimately destined. Whether physically or spiritually alive, she has come to the brilliant deduction that death has been conquered by her conscious and potent decision to live.

Role of Reading Anonymous By the age of six, I was devouring books of all genres at a rate that was seemingly impossible for someone at that age. I had read the entire Harry Potter series, completed the Inheritance cycle, and gone through half of the fantasy section in the local library before my seventh birthday. My tiny bedroom, instead of being filled with stuffed animals and board games, had towers of books as high as I could 58 stack them, covering every horizontal surface.

It got to the point where my mother Creative Writing

couldn’t open the door because I had piles of books in front of it. That Christmas, I received a number of colorful bookshelves on which I could organize my collection. When I was being put to bed, whichever parent was present had to check under my blankets and pillow for stray books and double check that I hadn’t hidden a flashlight beneath the mattress.

(I had tendency to hide under my covers after lights out and read books until far past my bedtime. In the mornings after my book binges, I would be grumpy enough to scare my little sister away.)

Being homeschooled for the majority of my school career, and due to the fact that I had very limited social contact, books became my best friends. Every spare moment I had was spent getting lost in a new world. On Sundays I read historical fiction and pretended to be a spy during the Civil War or an artist in the Renaissance. Mondays through Thursdays were fantasy days, after which I’d run around my living room casting spells or ruin my mother’s good pots making “potions.” Library Fridays were my favorites because I could add to my collection and, if the friendlier librarians were there, help reshelve books. Saturdays, I read to others.

I read to my sister, my dogs, my cats. I read to my parents, my friends, and to my only stuffed animal Rabbit. Instead of being grounded from tv or computer games, my favorite books were taken away and I cried my eyes out until they were given back to me. Quite frankly, reading was the only thing in my life that seemed important.

Somewhere along the line, my reading material strayed from fantasy into reality. I would sit in the warmest corner of the library and bury myself in 59 encyclopedias. I could identify fifty different Creative Writing species of shark by their dorsal fins. I

could name every marsupial on the planet and tell a person the chemical compositions of the gaseous planets. My thirst for books and new universes became my thirst for knowledge about the universe we live in. I won science awards in middle school simply because I knew more random facts than the science teachers combined. I read books on anatomy, physiology, psychology and any other subject you can think of that ends in “ology.”

And who I am now, a jaded, barely-functioning adult, is a far cry from the innocent child who metaphorically walked through the wardrobe to Narnia and the preteen who read encyclopedias for fun. My life has been taken up by jobs and school and trying to form meaningful interpersonal connections with other human beings. But somewhere inside me, I still carry the same childhood curiosity: The thirst to find out what makes people tick or what’s actually at the bottom of the ocean, why life hasn’t been found in space and if having a racist Cheeto for a president is going to completely ruin America. All of the reading done in my childhood has led me to where I am now. I’m constantly trying to learn, to discover. Whether I decide to major in science or sociology, art or mathematics, I will spend the rest of my life yearning to know more. To satisfy a childhood curiosity that has grown and changed in so many ways over so many years, I will continue to read. Because at heart, I am still nothing more than a curious child.

Tea Party Miranda Dimmitt I am sitting on the floor of the sitting room in my grandparents’ house with my mother. She sits facing me, and we are drinking tea out of small plastic 60 cups. I mimic how she holds her pinky out Creative Writing because at just two years old she is my

whole world and I’m fascinated by what she does. At the time, I didn’t realize how many things she would teach me by her strong example.

A sleeve of Ritz crackers peeks out of a picnic basket, they are still one of my favorite snacks. Looking back on this picture I’m astounded by how young my mom looks, probably because she was just a year or so older than I am now. Her wavy brown hair comes all the way down her back and she’s wearing glasses. She recently switched to contacts and I miss her old glasses. Sometimes in the morning she wears them before she’s had a chance to put her contacts in and it makes me feel like a kid again. I can remember the glossy hardwood floors being soft and warm, the kind of floors you want to slide on in your socks. If you were to look at that room now there wouldn’t be too many differences even though almost twenty years have passed. You can see that I’m looking at my grandmother who is taking the picture. I was their first grandchild and I always take great pride in that accomplishment. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house and I think it’s still one of my favorite places to be. I have a recurring dream that I discover a new staircase and it leads to a whole new section of the house to explore. Other times I dream that I’m being chased and I have to hide in some nooks and crannies in the attic. These dreams are no doubt memories of playing hide and seek with my grandfather and his booming footsteps gone sour. In the background, you can see the record player, my grandfather would put one on and remind me to “walk carefully, no bouncing around or it’ll skip.” I think it’s interesting how such small details and memories in your childhood can create such an impact for the rest of your life.

My mother and I still have tea parties like this one. Although they aren’t on the floor anymore, there is still the same sense

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of looking up to her, watching and learning. Our tea parties have grown with us, they are now coffee parties and she continues to be a role model, showing me how to be a strong young woman in the world.

The Painter Emily Norris The water churned and bubbled around rocks and bends. Its foam churned thick and white like cream. Fish flew through clear avenues in between, their scales adding momentary glimmer. Above the water, weeping willows draped themselves, from a distance one would have imagined them as giants, kneeling to wash their hair. At least that was how Abigail Anderson thought. People often told her she had a special converter in her head or that she saw the world through different lenses. At a glance, she could take in a place and remake it, into the last thing people expected to see, all with the just her paints.

Those who saw her day to day saw nothing extraordinary at first. Her short stature, plain brown hair, and dull blue eyes gave her an almost generic appearance. Nothing caused her to stand out in a crowd, and she had no fondness for drawing much attention. The thing she wanted most was to be left alone. Hence, she spent a great deal of time outdoors.

Be it in rainy or shiny weather, warm or cold, she could always find shelter if necessary and enjoy true privacy.

It was a chilly day in late November when she chose to walk along that churning river. The ground was crystalizing, allowing her booted feet to give off a satisfying crunch, and the lighting was just the way she liked it. A dreary gray that always hinted to the mysterious yet 62 the sky was bright. A perfect day for painting.

Abigail assembled the easel then laid Creative Writing

out the colors, the brushes, and the water. She sat on the rock and studied the river. Inside her heart began to race, her breathing hastened. Rivers always did that and for the first time in the vaguest of ways she began to work, putting an age-old fear into view. In a few strokes, she began with the river’s banks. She whipped the trees out of the pigment ground and punched their leaves into place. Not willows, but maples on fire. She hesitated a moment before slowly, deliberately she began painting the water. Her quivering hand brought a certain authenticity to the way the painted water moved. Maybe a bit too much authenticity. Abigail twitched the brush around in the water as she contemplated her next move. I want it more fake, she thought to herself, you know like those nineteen-whatever’s movies with the crummy special effects. She chose a series of new colors and added spring. Whole blossoms floating in mid-air from a cherry tree she spliced onto a distant shore. Also sun flowers and cat tails in the river’s shallows. With different shades of yellow she scrambled to add warmth to the lighting. Like those gone by days of summer with pool parties and sun bathing. Abigail sighed and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. That’s better. See? It’s not real.

Only then did she dare confront events. With tears beginning to stream from her eyes, she painted the glowing winged creatures over the water and the strange grayish form they’d lifted. It was so sad, that little gray thing being all that remained of something once so vibrant. All that remained of laughter, crying, likes, dislikes, the favorite color blue, peanut butter and jelly, and chicken noodle casserole. All that remained of the little blue bicycle, the C- in geography, and the freedom of recess. All that remained of everything packed away in that unsightly little gray rag being lifted to the sky. She clenched the brush tight in her fist 63 and began sobbing.

Creative Writing

“Is that it? That can be all there is to it? There’s got to be something more, anything more. Oh please, give me something.”

When she finally mustered the courage to look at her painting again the recreation of her recreation became clear. Yes, the little gray rag was dismal, but he was rising into that summer sunshine and without her realizing it, those petals she’d painted were encircling them in a ring of color and life. All at once, the truth hit her. Even though summer leaves, the time that follows needn’t be deprived of its own joys. Life is made of those seasons and their division aren’t always clean, but if there’s one without the other, life cannot truly be. For the first time, that ugly thing she’d kept locked inside, was beautiful.

No one else knew the story behind the odd picture as it hung in the student art exhibit. So, it got its share of raised eyebrows and head shakes. What place did cherry blossoms have in autumn? What were sun flowers doing there? Perhaps it was just a playful little abstract. Either way, most found it fun to look at and for Abigail Anderson, the title said it all: The Collision of Seasons.

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Writing As Process Writing Exercise Alf Maher Not a single gun rang out no thunder rumbled or lightning flashed not even a woman screaming in fact it was a pretty average early summer day. The warm morning wind was blowing through the window. It and a compilation of birds chirping finally roused me from my slumber. I was attending a summer success academy to gear up for college. As it is I am a rather meticulous man I schedule the day out plan for everything and allow time for the unexpected. Shock in awe today would not be that kind of easy day lovely as it started.

I was headed to the academy this very morning, this lovely summer morning that could be spent outside.

I was doing well always getting there early never missing a day, even if it meant skipping breakfast. I know breakfast is an important meal but sadly I admit that more often than not I miss it, not out of lack of time but more or less I just don’t feel the hands of hungry clawing at my stomach. This morning unlike the others I figured start the day off right have a healthy breakfast. Okay well half true as I spied the brownie sitting on the counter that had been cooked last night. I knew it wouldn’t be a healthy breakfast but hey this early in the morning who really wants to cook something elaborate.

As I closed my hand around the cold glass pie dish it was cooked in the smell of dark rich chocolate reached my nose and I really didn’t care anymore if it was healthy. As I attempted to grab a piece 65 I realized it was fastened rather well to Writing As Process

the pie dish one might even say glued. My mind was made up and nothing would stop me from having a brownie now. Grumbling to myself about people not being able to spray pans before cooking I grabbed the knife used to cut the brownie and attempted to wedge it underneath the Delicious chocolaty treat in determined try to pry it free. My complete surprise was its lack of willingness to comply with my wishes. It was almost like it knew I wanted to consume it and was giving its all as its very being was at stake. Okay so I am not the best morning person and I may have called it stupid and such as it was truly aggravating me. It has always baffled my why people yell or swear at inanimate objects but here I was trying to persuade this half bread cake/cookie to relinquish its hold on the glass pie dish. There was no way I would be deterred by some brownie with survival instincts. I began to feverishly jab and stab this irritating frustrating stupid brownie in what was beginning to feel like a vain attempt at getting a piece. With each failed attempt I only grew more determined to pry this godforsaken brownie out and relish each bite of my inevitable victory. As with most events in history anger only assists your adversary and this was proving to be true here as I was growing careless and applying more and more force. With one anger filled vicious thrust with the serrated knife the brownie popped effortlessly free. A short lived victory as the tremendous amount of force applied just kept going. The tip of the sadistically edge blade hit the curve of the glass pie dish and went straight up and into my thumb cutting straight threw from tip of thumb half way down the nail and other side. My shock was complete as the crimson tears of my defeat flowed freely from my thumb onto the counter and floor and feet. How swiftly my achievement was snatched away from me.

After leaving the sink a lovely hue of dark red I 66 gathered that the cut was far too deep and Writing As Process would need medical attention. I know

I should have been angry but the shock of what happened still left me floating in limbo with only the vague idea of what to do. Knowing that I couldn’t drive and keep my hand clamped around my newly formed memory, I called my mom the only person I knew that would be free to drive me to the doctor. When I started talking to here I let out a laugh you would think after all these years I would no longer have to bug her about things as silly as scrapes cuts. I think the most disappointing thing was I knew I would be late to school something I had planned so hard to always get there on time.

Me who has gone through knife safety courses, me who works with knifes as a chef for the last four years of my life on a professional level and never cut myself once. Maybe due to over confidence and lack of respect for a device that literally was designed to cut threw meat. Maybe it was just lack of hand eye coordination because of it being an early morning.

Maybe I just let my emotions get in the way or maybe it was a tag team of all the above. The best laid plans.

The Death of Dr. Friend Matthew Ryckman – The Creative Process – The assignment was to write a short story based on four writing prompt cards chosen at random. These cards included character traits and situations the main character would have and be placed in. The story was then presented to a workshop team who made comments and suggestions for further revision. Revisions were then made until a satisfactory final draft was written. The first draft, final draft, document containing concepts used, and a reflection piece were packaged together and submitted for a final grade.

67 Writing As Process

– Rough Draft – I arrived at the scene shortly after it happened. As I approached the home my first thought was Dr. Friend must have been one rich man. The home, a mansion, was constructed in the late 1920s in an art deco style that must have cost a fortune to design even during that time.

I knocked only once and was greeted by Mrs. Friend, who must have been impatiently awaiting my arrival.

“I’m sorry it took so long ma’am, this island isn’t easy to access with the weather being what it is,” I said.

Mrs. Friend was quite silent. This was understandable though, her husband was murdered only last night.

“Please, show me where he is.” I followed her down the hall to a door that led to a family room. It was magnificent, artwork hanging on each wall, a beautifully polished hardwood floor, Furniture matching the architecture of the home. A work of art in and of itself, except for Dr. Friend’s lifeless body sprawled out at our feet by the entrance.

“It was his birthday, you know. We meant to surprise him,” Mrs. Friend said with her frail, old voice.

“I’m terribly sorry ma’am. Have all the guests and house staff stayed as I requested?”

“Yes, but not all of them were happy about it. You know, since there’s a murderer among us. There wasn’t any other place for them to go anyway. This is the only home on this island. And with the weather the way it is…” she replied.

68 Writing As Process

Into the dining we went and there were the guests and the rest of the house workers. I took the first witness into Dr. Friend’s study for an interview. She was Dr. Friend’s daughter, Elizabeth, I learned, visiting her father on his birthday while on a break from the university.

“What do you remember about last night, Elizabeth? Can you start from when you arrived for the party, before your father entered?” I asked.

“Am I under suspicion, Mr. Royal?” she snapped.

“Well, this is proper procedure, Miss. I must gather as much information as I can on what was witnessed by each and every person.”

“Sounds to me like you’re asking if I did it! Is that what you want to hear?! You want to hear that I was the one who shot him?!” she went into a rage, lifting out of her chair and slamming her hands onto the table.

“I understand this must be terribly upsetting for you. How about I come back to you later on, after you’ve had some time to relax a bit?” I escorted her back to the other room as she sobbed.

Next up was Johnathan Friend. A fair bit older than Elizabeth, he was Dr. Friend’s eldest son, and only the surviving one, I had learned. He seemed a great deal calmer than his younger sister, sitting on the other side of the desk with one leg crossed over the other and his arms placed neatly on either side of the chair.

“Can you start from the beginning, what happened when you arrived for the party last night, Johnathan?” I asked.

69 Writing As Process

“It’s John, sir.”

“I apologize. Well, can you start from the beginning, John?”

“That’s not very clear, sir. There are a variety of beginnings from which I could start.”

“Just start from when you arrived at the party.”

“Well, again, there are many beginnings to that particular situation. Do you want me to start from when I arrived on the island for the party? Or maybe when arrived at my father and mother’s house? Do you want me to start before or after I entered the house? How about before or after I entered the living room? Before or after we took our places to surprise my father? Or perhaps while I was walking down the hall before any of that? You see, your questions is very broad and making it difficult for me to answer.”

“I can understand this is an enormous tragedy for you. Why don’t you just sit with your sister for a while and I’ll come back to you later,” I said calmly, hiding my irritation. It seemed like it was going to be a long, long process.

A man, dressed in a freshly pressed suit, neatly Windsor knotted tie, and perfectly matching hat, entered the room stepping forward with his cane.

“Mr. Al J. Koary,” the man extended his hand across the table to me and took a seat.

“Mr. Koary, do you think you could start from the beginning? When you arrived for the party, what did you notice?”

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“Well, Dr. Friend and I are business

partners and I’ve been here to discuss deal with him many, many times. I’m quite familiar with the place. Nothing out of the ordinary really. I just arrived and was directed to my spot in the living room, where we waited to surprise Dr. Friend upon his arrival,” he described.

“Did you see anyone acting out of the ordinary though?”

“No, it was dark, wasn’t much to see.”

“How about the flash from the gun barrel? If it was dark, surely the flash could be seen, however briefly.”

“No, just a muffled popping sound. Then the lights went on and there was the body.”

I wasn’t getting very far with him and he didn’t seem like he was willing to give any further information. I dismissed him and went along interviewing the house workers. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that they too had very little information to give.

The last person to speak with was Mrs. Friend. She sat slowly in the chair, drying her eyes with a cloth and holding her balance with her other arm against the chair as she sat.

“Please, tell me how last night’s events transpired, Mrs. Friend.”

“Well…” she began to sob then composed herself shortly thereafter. “I made sure they food was prepared and set.

I greeted the guests and showed them to their places.

We waited for him to arrive and when he had just stepped through the door I heard the shot. Then someone turned on the lights and I saw he 71 was dead,” she cried again.

Writing As Process

I didn’t get much else out of Mrs. Friend. I didn’t get much else out of anyone there, not even the rest of the small team that scoured the premises for evidence. No murder weapon was found, nothing at all. Statements were taken, notes logged, and Dr. Friend’s body taken to the medical examiner’s office off the island when we left. No one was taken into custody.

As I left though, I noticed oddly Mrs. Friend, John, Elizabeth, and Mr. Koary waving goodbye to us, but not in the way mourning friends and family would do. They waved goodbye with smiles on their faces.

– Revised Draft – Walter Royal had been called upon to congratulate Mr. Robert U. Friend tonight at a gathering at Mr. Friend’s residence. This would be Walter’s first time participating in a ceremony with the leaders. He had been chosen for a path leading to more involvement in the community and the way he conducted himself this evening would determine how far down that path he would be allowed to travel.

Mr. Friend was once an educator and Walter was his student, when he was only a small boy. From him Walter learned the history of their community, its values and beliefs, and its leaders. He instructed Walter and the other young students the in proper way to behave as a citizen of their great community.

Walter was fond of these subjects. He learned the reasons that each citizen in the community must obey the laws strictly. Obeying the laws kept order and order kept the citizens safe. He learned why only approved 72 art and approved readings were allowed: to keep citizens from being manipulated, Writing As Process

to keep them from getting wild ideas, to keep order. Most importantly, he learned of the dangers people and things from the outside could bring to their community. Outsiders, even objects from the outside disrupt the order. Walter respected Mr. Friend and modeled his every behavior after him.

Walter had known Jack practically his whole life. They went through school together as children, played together, and now in early maturity lived in the same building across the hall from one another.

Jack was different though. He did not follow Mr. Friend’s teachings and instructions. He didn’t care to hear about the leaders or about order or why we shouldn’t draw certain things or write about subjects that were not approved. He was keen on one thing though. He liked to listen to Mr. Friend talk about the place outside, the place beyond the community. He listened on the edge of his chair ever time Mr. Friend lectured the class on the outside world. While these lectures made fear grow deep within Walter and the rest of the class, an excitement grew within Jack, a sense of wonder and curiosity.

They were friends nevertheless. Although Walter tried with great effort to show Jack the error of his ways, Jack only did the same in return. They argued furiously about it at times, but neither ever gave way to the other. After that, they wouldn’t speak for a day or two, and then everything was back to normal. This changed though on the day Walter was to appear at the ceremony to honor their beloved teacher, Mr. Friend.

There was a knocking sound at the door. Knock, 73 knock, knock… A quiet knocking, as if the visitor was trying to whisper that he Writing As Process

was there, waiting outside the door, but no one else should know. Walter cracked the door open slowly and peeked out through the crack to see who this odd visitor was. He then opened the door all the way rather swiftly upon catching a glimpse.

“Jack?” Walter said, confused. “Why are you knocking at my door like that?”

Jack quickly ducked under the arm that Walter had against the door frame and came inside, making sure he was fully inside and Walter had closed the door before answering.

He sat on the edge of Walter’s bed, made neatly without a wrinkle. “Look at what I have,” he said with a smile as he produced a small, plain box from within his jacket. He opened it and held it out.

Walter looked into the box and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His eyes widened and he closed the box quickly, shoving it back into Jack’s open arms.

“What have you done, Jack!” he shouted, but in a whispered voice.

“Don’t worry, no one will know. No one saw me pick it up. It was dark out, no one saw,” he tried to reassure his friend.

“This is against our laws!”

Jack opened the box again, not caring much for Walter’s concern. Taking one thing out after another to show Walter that the objects inside the box were no different from the ones that could be found in their own community. He produced first a package of 74 pencils. Each pencil painted yellow with Writing As Process

a metallic, green ring holding a pink eraser at its base. Next, a book with a plain cover and a bookmark sticking out from its pages.

“You’ve started to read it already?! They’ll send you away for that, Jack,” Walter said with concern.

Jack ignored him and took out another object. This one was a small flashlight with an ornate design on its exterior. On the side it said, MADE IN CHINA. Where was China, Walter thought to himself as he looked at the flashlight.

“I know how you like to read after curfew. And I know your flashlight is broken. It’s hard to get another one around here.

They’re expensive,” Jack told him as he handed the flashlight to him as a gift.

Walter felt some small amount shame because he, too, had broken the law by staying up after hours to read books when every citizen should have their lights out and be asleep.

That was different though from what Jack had done. The books Walter read were all approved by the leaders and the flashlight, now broken, manufactured here in the community and purchased by him for the advertised price.

“I can’t accept this gift, Jack. It comes from outside. It’s illegal and it’s considered a disruption of the order of things by the leaders. You’ve got to get rid of these things. You’ve got to destroy them before anyone finds out.”

“They can’t harm anyone. I’m keeping them and if you don’t want to share them with me, then that’s your own choice.

People went to great lengths to bring these things here.”

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“Who did? Who would intentionally

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bring objects from the outside to the community and disrupt the order of things?”

“You know who,” Jack scoffed like they both knew all along who the smuggler was.

“Mr. Friend?!”

“Of course. We always joked that he looks like he could be a smuggler.”

“We have to tell the leaders. They’ll put a stop to this.”

“But they’ll correct him if you do that, maybe even send him away. He’s not harming anyone. He’s only helping people get the things they want.”

“So you need this book? You need these pencils? Why?” “I want to learn of the world outside. I want to create things.

Draw and write things on my own without getting approval.”

“That is forbidden. You know that, Jack.”

Jack didn’t seem to hear the words or he just didn’t care. He was already halfway out the door and headed back to his room across the hall. He shut his door without a goodbye.

Walter left for the home of Mr. Friend. The ceremony was to begin in an hour. He knew he had to tell the leaders about Mr. Friend, but he couldn’t tell them about Jack. Should he tell them about Jack? He thought to himself as he walked.

A gathering for Mr. Friend was coming together nicely at his apartment suite. This was not 76 known to Mr. Friend, it was a surprise.

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Surprises or celebratory gatherings of almost any kind were highly unusual in the community, except for when called upon by the leaders.

Walter thought to himself, who was he to judge Jack? It’s the job of the leaders to judge. It’s their job to maintain order, not his own. This is not Jack’s fault. No, it was Mr. Friend’s fault.

He corrupted Jack, he gave him the objects, he disrupted the order. The leaders needed to know about Mr. Friend, Walter decided.

Mr. Friend had a grand apartment that he was placed in after his retirement from teaching. Walter walked down the hall past the many guests who had taken their places to surprise Mr. Friend upon his arrival home. They were all chatting about him in little groups, saying how wonderful he is, how he’s a pillar of the community. Walter only looks ahead, trying to block out the sound of their voices as he approached the leaders in the main dining hall.

Walter approached one of them. It didn’t matter which one he told, they were all of equal rank and without name. He hesitated to say to them what he had learned of Mr. Friend, but remembered this was for the good of the community, for the good of his friend, Jack.

“Leader, may I speak with you about a matter?” he asked with a shaky voice.

The leader only nodded in return. This meant he was free to speak with them. The rarely gave words to anyone except each other.

“Mr. Friend… he’s been smuggling in objects from the outside.”

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“We know,” said another one of the leaders in a quiet, raspy voice.

“You know?” Walter looked at the leader, confused.

The leader produced a box, much like the one Jack had shown him earlier. He opened it for Walter and showed him inside that there were objects, many objects, all from the outside.

“But if you knew…” Walter was interrupted by loud clapping and cheering from outside the dining hall.

Then, there stood Mr. Friend moments later at the entrance to the dining hall. The leaders approached him as everyone gathered around. Walter stood frozen in the back, too confused and afraid to move. A circle of partygoers had formed around Mr. Friend and the leaders. They were all smiling, waiting for the leaders to congratulate Mr. Friend on his contributions to the community. Instead, one leader produced the box that they had just shown to Walter. He tipped it upside down and let the objects fall to the floor.

Everyone gasped in shock. The leaders pointed at Mr. Friend.

The crowd closed in as the leaders pointed. Walter still couldn’t move. He heard screams for help come from Mr. Friend, as the members of the community who had come to praise and thank him were now angry and upon him. Walter saw blood and he became unfrozen.

He ran from the room, going by the mob and back out into the street. His heart racing, his breath short, his body beginning to sweat, he ran back towards his home, but stopped when it came into closer view.

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He could see his apartment and he

looked to its entrance. More leaders, walking up the steps of the building. He could see Jack’s room with the window open and Jack inside. He knew he had made a terrible mistake.

– Concepts Incorporated – from Lisa Roney’s Serious Daring Chapter 7: Description and Setting I did not have a specific time or place in mind for the setting of this short story. I would prefer if that was left up to the reader to imagine. In general though, the story takes place in a community controlled by an idealistic group of leaders who focus on order. They achieve this by isolating the community from the outside world. Where and how this community is isolated from the outside world is again left up to the reader.

Most of the description of the setting takes place in the exposition of the story.

Chapter 8: Character Walter Royal: Protagonist who appears from the beginning to the end of the story. He learns that Mr. Friend is smuggling in objects from the outside and reports him. He doesn’t realize this will incriminate his friend, Jack, as well.

Jack: Long-time friend of Walter Royal. He appears throughout the entire story. Unlike Walter, he is curious about the outside world and the things that are smuggled into the community from the outside.

Mr. Friend: Once a school teacher of Walter and Jack, he began smuggling in objects from the outside world. He was killed when the community 79 found out.

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The Leaders: The keepers of order of the community. They don’t allow anyone or anything to come in from the outside world, and they don’t allow anyone from the community to leave. When they find out that Mr. Friend is smuggling things in from the outside, they kill him and Jack.

Chapter 9: Plot The plot follows a pyramid-like scheme with an exposition leading to an upward climb through rising action, then peaking at a climax, and falling down the slope to a conclusion shortly thereafter.

Exposition: (paragraphs 1 – 9) A vague description of the setting starts the exposition of the story. Most of the exposition is dedicated to describing the cast of characters.

Rising Action: (paragraphs 10 – 31) This section is composed to dialogue between Walter and Jack as they argue about the contents of the box that Jack reveals to Walter.

Climax: (paragraphs 32 - 45) Here Walter reveals to the leaders that Mr. Friend is the smuggler. Walter witnesses Mr. Friend be killed by the crowd at the surprise party/ceremony without any trial or sorting out of the facts. This upsets Walter’s sense of order.

Denouement: (paragraphs 46 - 47) Walter returns to his home only to find the leaders entering the home, presumably to kill Jack for accepting the smuggled items from Mr. Friend.

Chapter 10: Point of View and Voice The point of view is third-person omniscient. This is a significant change from the first draft 80 where the first-person point of view was Writing As Process

used by writing from the detective/investigator’s perspective.

Chapter 11: Action and Dialogue The majority of the dialogue occurs within paragraphs 10 through 45, which compose the rising action and climax of the plot. Direct dialogue was used between Walter and Jack as they argued about the contents of the box. Later direct dialogue is used again when Walter reports Mr. Friend’s criminal activity to the leaders. However, at this point the leaders do not engage in conversation, only described gestures. An indirect dialogue occurs when Walter thinks to himself in paragraph 32 and 34.

– Reflection – The first draft of the story dealt with a detective who was investigating a murder at a surprise party that is revealed at the end to be committed by the family of the murdered man, Mr. Friend. Throughout the story he tries to judge who killed the man by interviewing each of them, but comes up with nothing. The setting is on an isolated island during very stormy weather. The final draft still involved the idea of an isolated place, but instead of an island, it is set in a community that is isolated from the rest of the world. The protagonist, Walter Royal, is very much in favor of keeping order in the community by agreeing with its leaders that nothing should come in to the community from the outside and nothing should go out. Walter’s friend does not agree, however. Mr. Friend makes an appearance again, this time as a smuggler who is killed for bring in objects from the outside.

From the first draft of “The Death of Mr. Friend” to the second I made significant changes to various 81 elements of the story, until the story itself was almost entirely brand new. These Writing As Process

changes occurred with the setting, plot, some characters, and the point of view. I took into consideration the comments my peers made until the story was shaped in such a way that I felt it was entertaining to read.

I wanted to keep the idea of the setting being in an isolated area and plot unfolding in one place. Rather than have this take place on an island I changed the setting to an isolated community. One peer commented that I should make it apparent to the reader that the main character in the first draft is trapped with a party of potential killers on the island as more evidence comes to light. In subsequent drafts and the final draft of the story I made it so that the main character thinks he is in a safe, isolated, ordered community of people.

He only later finds out that the community is not what he thought when Mr. Friend is killed by a crowd upon instruction from the leaders. He becomes trapped in a dangerous, authoritarian community.

I had considered keeping some of the plot and characters the same in future drafts: Dr. Friend/Mr. Friend is killed at a surprise party and the main character investigates this death.

However, once I had changed the setting, I took a different direction with the plot. I found it difficult for a short story to support my main character, the murder victim, a handful of suspects, and additional supporting characters, such as a crime scene team and house workers. It quickly became a confusing mess and would better suited for a longer format, rather than a short story. I also realized that the plot itself was too plain and not very interesting to read. I reworked the plot several times before arriving at the final one.

Another change that was made was the point of view.

I changed the point of view from first-person to 82 omniscient due to the fact that I had added Writing As Process an important secondary character,

Jack. I wanted the reader to be able to understand the confliction views that Walter Royal and Jack had. The best way I found to do this was to all the reader to know their inner thoughts and feelings. The idea for adding this other character evolved from another comment by a peer that suggested I add more information about the crime scene investigative team in my first draft. This led me to the idea of giving the main character a detective partner. Eventually, when I changed the plot, I instead gave the main character a friend. I simply used the original main character’s last name for the new main character, and used his first name for this new secondary character.

My final draft ended up having a much more interesting plot than the first draft. The comments I received from peers during the workshop were helpful, even though the final draft ended up being essentially a completely new story. The comments helped me generate new ideas that took new shapes in future drafts and helped reshape the story completely.

83 Writing As Process

Culinary Students of Chef Nathan Scott’s Classical European Pastry Arts class were each assigned to prepare a themed wedding cake. The lemon curd-filled cakes were assembled using: French vanilla buttercream and fondant icing. They were then decorated with assorted gum paste, pastillage, and marzipan decorations before being presented to the class on Friday, November 4th, 2016.

Daisy-Themed Wedding Cake Heidi Graham

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Chef Scott’s Fall 2016 Classical European Pastry Arts Class Chef Nathan Scott, Emily Kennedy, Zachary Quigley, Madeline Altman, Heidi Graham, Tyler Calderwood, Beau Sibley, and David Hansen

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Honeybee-Themed Wedding Cake Tyler Calderwood

Lady Bug-Themed Wedding Cake Emily Kennedy

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Photoshop

Vintage Postcard Julia Honn The assignment was to create a 5x7� high-resolution Vintage Postcard of a place of interest. A modern (hi-res) background image was to be used, in conjunction with additional images and type (text). We were to incorporate all the tools we had learned and worked with up to the time of this project.

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Fairy Dreams Dale King My final project for Photoshop is called fairy dreams. I like the way fairies seem airy and free. They are beautiful. I tried to make a beautiful fairy scene with the mountains fading in the background with vibrant colors and to be eye catching.

Fantasy Project Chris Manos

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This project required us to blend five separate images together to create a fantasy scene.

Playroom Travis Nolan The goal of the assignment was to achieve a hand-painted look using photographs and various brush techniques in Adobe Photoshop CC. By using the Mixer Brush and several select photos, I was able to create a digital illustration of one child’s imagination at work.

Composite James Rainey This picture was my final project for Photoshop class. The project was supposed to be a composition with design fundamentals along with using all the techniques and tools learned in class.

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Photoshop

Postcard Patricia Robinson This assignment was for DGD 113-Photoshop, we had to created a vintage postcard for any place of our choosing. I create this postcard using four different images. I enjoyed this assignment because it was very open to my imagination.

Sandy Monroe Jordan Stump The Sandy Monroe picture was created for an assignment to fuse two people together to see what their child would look like. I used the Adobe Photoshop program to fuse together portraits of Adam Sandler and Marilyn Monroe. The fusion has been said to be very humorous.

Photoshop

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Layout Design

Bearfoot Magazine Ad Dylan Bruce I created the Bearfoot magazine ad for my advanced digital graphics class.

The assignment was to create a magazine ad that advertised a product for our made-up company. I digitally drew the skateboarder in illustrator and then put together the rest in photoshop. The whole project took around 6 hours to complete.

91 Layout Design

Design Culture Now 2017 Amy Wilkins This flyer was created for Typography class in order to announce guest speakers with a little bio about each speaker and the dates and times of their speeches.

Reshmi Dance Movement Amy Wilkins This flyer was created for Typography class in order to promote Reshmi Nair’s Kathak Dance Classes in New York.

92 Layout Design

Design Culture Now Chris Fortier I chose my typography final.

The assignment was to create a “Design Culture Now� poster. It was using only typography, no imagery.

We had specific dimensions to follow and a list of information that need to be included. We had to create a design from scratch and create a hierarchy. At the end, we had to present our final piece as though we were selling our design.

I felt this was one of my most professional looking pieces thus far in my education.

Reshmi Dance Movment Poster Patricia Robinson This assignment was for DGD 221-Typography. We had to create a poster for a woman in New York that gives dancing lessons. It was a front and back flyer that was created with information and images that were provided. My task was to create a well-organized design that would be appealing to the eye.

93 Layout Design

Illustration

Dragonopoly Jordan Stump I made the board in Illustratration class. The assignment was to make a Monopoly board and I used Adobe Illustrator to create this project. I chose to make mine based around dragons because dragons are my favorite fictional creatures.

94 Illustration

Photography

The Domino Effect Julia Honn The assignment was to take everything we had learned to this point in the semester, in addition to what we had just learned with shutter speed. We were to show creativity in our photo shoots using either Manual Mode or Shutter Priority only. We had to direct our attention to rule-of-thirds, proper exposure, composition, etc. Of the 10 photos we had to shoot, we had to choose two of our favorites and edit them (crop, brightness, contrast, etc.). One of our choices had to reflect slow shutter speed, as the other was to reflect fast shutter speed; labeling them accordingly.

95 Photography

Rustic Italian Travis Nolan This shot is from a food photography series for Commercial Photography. The goal of the assignment was to incorporate a number of tricks and techniques in order to produce photos that accentuate the appeal of different types of food. For this shot, I used a tripod and a slow shutter speed to capture the crisp details of these dishes using only natural light.

Dream Dress Jeff Mckay This was for the Commercial Photography final. I worked with a local business (Dream Dress Bridal) to provide them images of models in their dresses for display on high quality canvas prints in their shop.

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Toy Soldier Bill Vassar

Last Battle Bill Vassar “Toy Soldiers” and “Last Battle”, are from a series of photos involving plastic army men. The “Toy Soldier” was a typical battle scene, like the ones I put together when I was a kid. For “Last Battle”, I wanted to depict them doing something aside from fighting, so I had them work together to flip the tank over.

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Photography

Bangor Jeff Mckay This was for the DGD101 aperture assignment, and was one of my submissions for shallow depth of field. While the aperture was not wide open and I left some detail in the fore- and background, I feel that the strong composition is aided by the moderate DOF created by a 5.6 aperture.

Light Through Trees Chris Manos

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This shot was taken for DGD101, we had recently worked on an assignment using light as a subject, and of course this was taken just after the assignment was due.

Photography

Dusk Through the Trees Zackary Philbrick This was a project I did during Digital photography. The assignment was testing getting landscapes with certain settings at first, but this version was what I thought was my best picture I took over the year. I cropped it, and balanced the images with light and color to get it to look the way I liked.

It is something I worked hard on and am still proud of. The picture has a beautiful emphasis on the dusk sky with its shades blues, purples and blacks on orange. It has a balance between the lager sky and ground because of the trees breaking up the larger space as well as adding a natural feel of the piece. The trees lead the eye through the many colors of the sky.

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In Loving Memory John W. Ianelli July 20,1954 - September 8, 2016

John was the department chair of Digital Graphic Design at Eastern Maine Community College and also taught courses in CAD. He joined EMCC in 2002. He was known for his smile around campus and his love for his family and music (which included playing the dobro).

Photo courtesy of Jodi Renshaw at Studio 36.

Master of Fine Arts Thesis Exhibition Wave, (Masculine),1994 75” x 30” x 30” Concrete, Wood & Steel