Editors’ Note Editors’ Note
Dear South High Community,
Happy 2024! The new year brings a variety of feelings anticipation, excitement, anxiety, sadness. Frequently, it is seen as a change, an alteration to our lives. We promise ourselves that this year will be better; this year we will change in the ways we want to. Or sometimes we tell ourselves we are done changing, done trying to “improve ourselves.” We are good enough as we are.
This issue of The Apricot Journal features twelve poems about the New Year, written from a variety of perspectives. Some honor that special feeling of counting down to midnight; others recall the wispy resolutions we make (can we really keep them?); and others still question the sincerity of the New Year. “How much less could I possibly care?” Laura Coderre ‘24 asks of the New Year in her poem Same Old Me. Through her poem and others’, we investigate the meaning behind the New Year, and encourage you to think about its meaning to you. Is it a powerful time? Or is it just another day, another month?
Because the New Year lends itself to ambiguity, we thought it fit to include a few other non-New-Year’s-related pieces that have their own ambiguity and mystery. Within them, perhaps you will find yourself confused or wondering about the authors’ intentions, about the many meanings behind the words.
However you engage with our writing, we hope you enjoy, finding yourself absorbed in the talented work within Volume 4, Issue 2 of The Apricot Journal.
All the best, The Editors-in-Chief
Anya Geist and Denisa Iljas
HERO MICHER, GRADE 9
JEFFREY ANTWI, GRADE 1O SNOWY
JENNIFER GARAJAU, GRADE 11
IYAD RHAOUAT, GRADE 9
RACHEL VUONG, GRADE 12
A special thank you to everyone who participated in the Apricot Journal’s Winter Cover Art Contest! Thank you especially to Hero Micher for designing this issue’s cover! We love including art in the Journal, so if you are an artist or have friends who are, we would love to get more art submitted for our upcoming issues! On the last page of this issue, (Page 30) scan or click on the QR code to submit your art! Submitting your art is a great way to showcase your creativity and be a part of the wonderful artists showcased here in the Apricot Journal!
The New Year The New Year Section! Section!
Same Old Me
Laura Coderre, Grade 12
The year is new
The people are old
The year is new
Or so we ’ ve been told
Change is in the air
But how much less could I possibly care
New Year’s Eve
Anya Geist, Grade 12
We sit around the table as night falls
Champagne and Thai food, sparkling apple cider
Our Christmas tree is still up (it’s not Christmas anymore)
And outside the world is hidden
Swaddled in a mess of chilling December wind
Predictions for 2024 swirl around Biden vs. Trump who will it be?
(We all think Biden 60/40)
Recession? Inflation? Pandemic? War?
Dan, stop being so negative, we say
But we laugh anyway, sip on decaf coffee, take a bite of brownie
The hours tick away, soon it’s near eleven
We are yawning but won’t sleep the new year is so close
Cocooned in restless darkness, we can’t wait
Because tomorrow will be, must be more different
Than yesterday was from today
In ten months, though, who will remember
Everything we said tonight? Caught up in Dying computers and family fights and groceries and errands
The weeks will blur, mundane everything is normal
No spectacle, just cars needing gas every couple of weeks
So now the lime microwave clock shines 11:30 Every sixty seconds another minute falls away We barrel forward in the darkness
Tracing dreams on inky infinity
But when morning comes, it’s like they were never there
Untitled Jeffrey Antwi , Grade 10
A Start Without A Past
Georgia Ntow, Grade 12
As time runs we try to catch up
Slow but fast
Hiding in the new from the presence that has left keeping our eyes forward the past is just the past
The New Beginning
Edmond Dotse, Grade 12
Ending and starting again
Just like the clock resets, That is me, New Year.
Although I start again with the same months, I bring new resolutions and atmosphere, Just like the clock repeats With the same numbers but, Brings a new Day or Night. I start as time changes and changes months, Just as people start a New Life as I bring a New beginning.
That is me, New year, New beginning.
New Years
Sarah Fosberry, Grade 12
The New Year is like a bottle of Champagne
Bubbly and Bright,
Exploding at first, then slowing as time moves on
The New Year is like fireworks,
Brief but brilliant flashes in the night sky
Illuminating the future
The New Year is like a Clock
Time ticking away
Decades passing quickly by Midnight coming each day
But only celebrated once a year.
Snowy Day
Jennifer Garajau, Grade 11
Endless Echoes Of Resolutions
Nana Owusu-Boahene, Grade 12
"New year, new me "
They say
But could that really be,
For they may
Try and vie to change
But instead would find it strange
How soon it came 'round knocking
Another new year docking.
"Let's try again this year "
And again they'll find it quickly appear
Another year with no progress to show
And yet they'll sit and go
"New year new me, "
And just like that
They'll repeat, repeat
This Year...
Natalie Boucher, Grade 12
A penny alone and forgotten in the park fountain still shiny but discarded
This was a promise
A comet far beyond the realm of human sight still bright but so far
This was a deepest wish
A birthday candle melted and placed in the garbage Still halfway unburned
This was a new beginning
A dandelion Fell from the wind to the earth decomposing could sprout so many more the seeds all there on the ground
This is a New Year's resolution.
The New Year
Cindy Acheampong, Grade 12
The new year
Resolutions, like, start the year with a cheer, Promises we make, as the clock gets near.
Dreams are big, shining bright, New Year's vibe, feels just right.
But, you know, resolutions kinda fragile, Like wishes on a birthday candle.
Gotta work hard, gotta try, Make those dreams reach the sky.
Days pass, the year takes flight, Resolutions guide, like a North Star light.
Step by step, learn and grow, New Year's journey, let's make it glow!
Winter Issue
Iyad Rhaouat, Grade 9
Brief Fireworks
Jedidah Mwaura, Grade 12
The firework is launched into the s
Like the hope for a new beginning
The firework bursts and lasts merely a few seconds Like the hope to endure our new found resolutions
New Year
Rachel Vuong, Grade 12
As the ball drops in Times Square, we all scramble to prepare.
We laugh and joke about memories had, all while looking toward the future glad.
The future brings uncertainties that bring fear or joy, some even find out if they're having a girl or boy.
Truth be told the new year acts as a new chapter for ll h id ight begins new opportunities come to
12:00:00
Ariana Costoso, Grade 12
How time flies before you realize You take a deep breath embracing the New Year
The moment the clock hits midnight
You close your eyes everything slowing down to A blur of whispers and strobes of light
It will be December again once you open your eyes
Gone in a matter of seconds
The seasons withering, fresh flowers shriveled and gone
Friends and loved ones dead or walking out of your life
A cycle that is never-ending
Repeat of daily struggles, pain, loss
It'll restart at the next 12:00:00
The new year
Untitled
Rachel Vuong, Grade 12
New Year
Daniella Okyere, Grade 12
The clock strikes twelve, The old is gone, the new has come
A promising experience
The new year brings
The clock strikes twelve, Life doesn’t end it continues
Fun happenings
The new year brings
The clock strikes twelve, A clean new slate
Many adversities
The new year brings
The Enchanting The Enchanting
Tales Section! Tales Section!
Pink Bubbles
Charlie Morrow, Grade 9
He hates his job, every day he wakes up at 5 and goes to sleep at 12 just to keep up with it. He works at a dusty old 7 Eleven. He is pretty sure that there are more rats in the store than sales they've gotten in the past month. On the drive home he remembered that the store inspection was tomorrow, he swore at himself, he knew he would fail. Everyday when he comes home he takes a bath to relax. But today, today was special. He was going to have a bubble bath. He knew he didn't have any so he went back outside to his car and drove to the grocery store to get some.
The only bottle they had was pink, he hated pink, oh well it would have to do. He drove home and went up to his bathroom. He got the water running and waited till the tub was full, he got undressed and then he put the bubble liquid in the tub. The bubblegum pink liquid swirled around in the tub until it got mixed in, and big pink bubbles started to form. He got in the tub with a sigh of relaxation, it was nice to take a moment to dissolve into the bathwater and forget all about his problems. It felt like he was floating in an ocean of pink bubbles, he enjoyed it. BAM! His arms bang against the side of the tub as he wakes.
He must have fallen asleep, he yells a few swears as he rubs his wrists. By now the water is cold, how long was he asleep for? He checks his watch, it's 2:41. He swore again, but this time at himself, he was going to be miserable in the morning with only 3 hours of sleep. He starts to drain the tub, he watches as the water level slowly lowers. For some reason the bubbles don't go down the drain, they just stay at the bottom of the tub.
He picks up a clump of pink bubbles and tosses it across the tub in anger, of course the one day where he fell asleep in the bath is the day before his store inspection which he knew he was going to fail. He gets up with a sigh and steps out of the tub, but his foot slips on the bubbles. BAM! That's the second time he has heard that noise tonight. He reaches for his towel, but wait, he is still in the tub. He starts to feel a throbbing pain in the back of his head. He reaches his hand back and feels where it hurts, when he brings his hand back there is a red stain on his hand. Paint maybe? He tries to get out of the tub again, but yet again BAM!
Why does he keep hearing that sound? He doesn’t know. Maybe the neighbors are having a party. He reaches for his towel, but again he is still in the tub. He looks down at where his legs are. He notices that more of that red paint is flowing into the tub from behind him. It is staining the bubbles red. What's happening? He turns behind him to see if the paint is coming from the faucet. Nope, wait, it's still coming from behind him. He looks down at his hand and sees the red stain again. Then he remembers the pain in the back of his head, wait, the pain is gone. He reaches his hand to the back of his head, his hand comes back covered in red paint. No, not red paint, blood. Well, is it?
He doesn't know, he doesn't care. He remembers how well comfortable the hot water was, how good it made him feel. He fills up the tub again, now the water is stained dark red, why not pink? He remembers putting in pink bubbles. Oh well, he doesn't care. Red bubbles, pink bubbles, still bubbles. He slowly drifts off to sleep, maybe he won't have to go to work tomorrow after all.
Marionette
Vasiana Manciolli, Grade 9
Raised on a silver dais
The bullet hole in the wooden sky
Granite spires rose
Attached to a bleeding pale light
Unwavering gazes consider it focal
No sound comes out of their mouths
Their voices of silk and glass, an imitation
Carpet expressions woven on their faces
Their hands formed gently into twine
If I act any less imperfect, the string would chaff
Cloaked in ephemeral guarantees
The forgotten stories that couldn’t follow them anymore
If the light of the outside tempts even the hopeless of souls
But they can’t fit through the door
It was never made for them
Their fears sing and their transparent cries
Are hidden behind the artist of flesh
Charcoal dreams made of grey
Inescapable prisons
Trapped in their own puddle of indecision
Puppets don’t run away
How is it they, more animated than the humans too lifeless to step away from their crushing banality?
Puppets travel ribbon roads, putting on a show, living the life their flesh counterparts can only dream of
Ballet from strings of silken gold
Their limbs grow sore
When the profits secure, to the shed they go
Gripped by the teeth and shaken around like a dog with a chew toy
Their sour little shudders tasteless to their master
Who offers drugs that dripped down the spiraling canals of their ears
Dark memories subside but the feeling lingers aimlessly
Flies trapped in a bottle
Nothing real can stay
Check for the shadow puppets under your bed
Check for the bodies in your closet
Check for the monsters dragged with strings of pain
Hide from the world in your floating delusions
Except monsters don’t disappear because you can’t see them
Dragged through the mud, their dark shed gone
Living the life of someone else that they never knew
Is it my turn to live yet?
Sea Bed
Eliana Panopio, Grade 12
The dark deep swallows whole, the ridges of white against the glistening heavens
Which tumble and turn and roll over the azure cosmos.
Deeper down, blanketed by the shadows, Past trenches, seamounts, and abyssal chasms I could see the warmth.
No, it was more than warmth; it was a sensation comparable only to the sun.
Captivated, dipping down to reach the depths of the unseen, the tides tip and I plummet.
A carapace of the familiar air soon runs out of breath, and before long Apollo’s mirrored gaze can no longer pierce the aqua chambers.
Staff Members! Staff Members!
EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
ANYA GEIST & DENISA ILJAS
MAGAZINE LAYOUT
MADELINE TROMBLY & IYAD RHAOUAT
EDITORS
NATALIE BOUCHER
JENNY HUYNH
VASIANA MANCOLLI
BENEDICT MORROW
NATASHA NDERITU
SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER
SHANNON DENNEHY
TEACHER ADVISORS
MRS. ERESSY, MS. BISHOP, & MX. YOUNG
