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May 17, 2011


Issue #9

Grand Mosque by Gabriella Mikiewicz

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Pamela Plonk’s Pleasant Potted Plant Continued from Issue #6 By Peter Baker

...So why was there a potted plant in the living room?... As one could guess this little pot plant issue came as a shock to me on account of the fact that I didn’t buy the potted plant, I didn’t want the potted plant, and I certainly didn’t need it. Yet, there, clear as day, the potted plant sat, leaving a devastating brown ring on my tile floor. As usual, my brain began to produce the generic questions that it already knew the answers to. Is this my house? yes of course it is, you tool. Does anyone have the key? Someone that might buy you a pot plant? no one with a key, no one likes potted plants, nothing. Did you buy the plant? NO! I didn’t bloody buy the potted plant. Resting on the base of the small tree was a note, and, after slowly and (for no particular reason) cautiously approaching the plant, I lifted the note carefully and began to read. Much to my surprise, the note was pleasant or as pleasant as a note with such a frightening message could be. It read as follows: ‘Dear 406, I am sorry that I broke into your house last night... twice, I’ll pay to get it fixed. From 506’ Beneath the word fix sat an arrow, I placed the note back where it was and looked in the direction the kind arrow guided me,

oh kind arrow, how could you show me such terrible things? Before me was my window, my beautiful window, my perfect window. My window with a hole in it. Someone had broken my window, climbed into my house while I slept, then left, then returned with a potted plant, left it with a note, and then left again. Beyond that, the person told me that they simply lived

“Someone had broken into my window, climbed into my house while I slept, then left, then returned with a potted plant, left it with a note, and then left again.” one floor above me. Initial curiosity pointed me towards the front door, but general laziness said ‘coffee, sit, chill.’ So I sat, with my coffee in hand I had turned the couch to face the plant and there I sat, for nearly an hour before I was disturbed. Background information, a useful thing to have when hearing any story, unfortunately this being a mystery I have very little background infor mation to share, but the following is some that I can. There once was a man named Jack, everybody liked Jack, and Jack liked everybody, but only his true friends

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knew that that was a lie. Everybody liked Jack and in retur n, he pretended he didn’t think they were all useless. Jack was very clever, and so were his friends. To them, many people were stupid, but were treated like kings anyway. That is the story of Jack, and at the end of my rather relaxing hour this Jack fellow was ringing at my doorbell, along with two others, Sophie and Samantha, two lovely woman that hated Jack when they first met, which made them very special, and possibly satanic. After a long epic concerning my venture to the door, and then the longer one back to my seat (two stories that will not be shared today) we four found ourselves mesmerized by the potted plant. I don't know if you have ever seen four successful 20 year old geeks sit and watch a tree for three hours. But, as I said, this was mundane at best. To this day I can’t explain why we did what we did, all I can say is that it was the doorbell at 2pm that broke the spell. Then Sylvester Stallone was at my door, and had a box of pizza, however the contents of the box was not the extra cheese pepperoni pizza that we ordered. It turned out to be a big European-style sausage pizza. You know those big sausage pizzas. Luckily it tasted much better than pepperoni, the four of us where very happy with what we got.


The Days After Torture Me By Gabriella Mikiewicz

Hungry Teeth and Angry Jaws take a giant bite that bleeds and infects Dirty Nails and Brass Knuckles hurt you more than that time when you were twelve Hair that Smells like Mother’s Cigarettes eats away at you drowning you in dizzy spells The Pain is Friendly it comes and goes you like to feel something.

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1. 4.

3. 2. 1. “Gabriel” by Mary Valiant 2. “Tired” by Roslyn Fok 3. Untitled by Mirijam Redinger 4. “Electrical Transmission Buzz” by Badr Worrell

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IB Art Paintings Descriptions Gabriel This piece, called Gabriel, was made during the Senior Fine Arts trip earlier this spring. We got the amazing chance to meet the artist Stephen Bennett, who is famous for his colorful portrait paintings. We were divided into different groups to create our own portraits inspired by Bennett. Each group consisted of students from different schools and we had to collaborate in choosing a picture and brainstorming on how we would create our group piece. My group decided to use a picture of my little brother, Gabriel. We then painted the background, outlined the contours with chalk, and painted the portrait using acrylics. My group used different techniques like brush, sponge, stippling, etc. to create different effects and textures that were seen in the picture. I found this project both fun and a little frustrating. It was definitely a learning experience for me. I learned a lot about cooperating with other team members and compromising. -Mary Valiant

Tired I wanted to do a portrait of someone tired because I was very tired throughout the period of time when we were doing our proposals. I experimented using various body parts to draw this studio using my mouth, my left hand, and even my foot. I decided that using these unconventional body parts made my sketching more free and loose and ended up looking better than a restricted, rigid right-handed sketch.  I then used my left hand to draw some of the features of the portrait and I used 3 different shades of brown markers to convey a 3-dimensional shape. The left hand was used again for a freer look than the right hand would convey. I then used coffee to plug in the values in the face. Egon Schiele inspires the asymmetry in the foreground as his portraits sometimes is more busy on the facial features area and it deconstructs at the bottom into lines and I wanted to put more of an emphasis on the face, and therefore left the fabric area empty. The writing in the background was also inspired by one of the pages in my proposal, as it looked interesting because the writing was written in a different direction than the intended orientation of the studio. -Roslyn Fok

Electrical Transmission Buzz When we were assigned this project, I knew it was going to be a challenge. We were given specific limitations... no paint brushes, and non-figurative. I had trouble thinking of creating something nonfigurative. The idea came to me that I could manipulate the form of electrical transmission towers. I decided to make this towers non figurative, by deconstructing their shape through bas-relief. The first step of this project was to create my own “canvas”. I combined to pieces of textured wood, and then I arranged my bas-reliefs to my liking. I made sure there was a sense of symmetry and balance, because I didn’t want the piece to seem uneven. I spray painted my boards, and then I used skewer sticks to model the transmission towers. This took a lot of concentration and effort, especially when I was creating the smallest tower. With the sticks in place, I used a palette knife and oil paints to create my background. I chose to make the background slightly more organic, and less rigid to create a contrast. The geometric shapes of the towers, and the bas-reliefs clashed nicely with the smooth, sky background. My initial idea was to remove the sticks, and have the black spray paint from underneath reveal itself, which would further deconstruct the towers. However I decided that I liked the transparency that was created when the sticks were left on the painting. Overall I believe that this was a very successful project, I will   be defiantly working with oil paint again. -Badr Worrell

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Traditions By Leen Nizameddin

Eleven years ago, I was a kindergartener attending events such as Picnic in the Park and Gala for Giving for the first time, and now I am a sophomore still going to these same events year after year, watching how both have gradually formed into well-known traditions here at ACS. Although a couple years ago there were only a few events, as the years progressed more creative and original ideas were being introduced to allow people to take part in one of the many traditions here, which have all managed to stay standing strong due to their well organized and clear planning. “My first year here the students taught me everything I needed to know about these events and what was expected from them; they told me what to do and I helped make it h a p p e n , ” s a i d M s . Ru s s e l l , Community Service teacher. As much as there are old traditions here at ACS, there are also several new ones such as Senior Night, and the Fashion Show. After hearing multiple positive reviews about Senior Night, “The Final Show” which was on April 14, it has become more than obvious that a new tradition has evolved.

“I laughed so hard at Nabeel’s impersonation of Mr. Werlinich that I could barely breathe,” said Ms. Wiley. This was the first time an ACS senior class created an event like this entirely by themselves. Nour Haidar, the senior class president, created this extremely entertaining fundraiser for Building Walls of Wisdom, an organization that tackles poverty by building schools to create educational opportunities for children who don’t have the chance to go to school. It showcased all of the seniors’ talents by showing off their best singers, dancers, comedians, and musicians. Most memorable was the entire senior class on stage singing John Lennon’s “Imagine”, giving the audience a feeling of family standing before us.

“ I am a sophomore still going to these same events year after year, watching how both [Picnic in the Park and Gala for Giving] have gradually formed into well-known traditions here at ACS.” -Leen

after Haiti’s earthquake, returned on April 21 with the help of Cathy Williams to raise money for the campaign against human trafficking. The show was a fun way to inform people about global issues while still being entertaining for the audience.

“Although not as many people attended the event the first time, it really did spread awareness which motivated some people to give donations of over 100 dirhams each, leading to a larger audience “Senior Night was a time for the second time around,” said Shafi. the graduating class to bond with one another,” said Tala Shtayyeh. “I would hope to see the Fashion Show continue as a “It was the night the seniors tradition since there has been a lot showed everybody else how to run a of show,” said Omar Dabbous. interest shown from the year below me. Hopefully someone will The Fashion Show, created by take the initiative and continue with Suzy Shafi last year to raise money it after I graduate,” she added.

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The Vision of Technopolis Poetry By Paul T. Self

Technology is the future. The future is better than the past. Progress is the way of the future, and technology is the way to progress.

Information solves problems. More information solves problems faster. Fast solutions are better than slow solutions; therefore getting more information faster is always better.

Technology makes human activities better. Technology should be used in any human activity whenever possible. A day will come when every human action will involve technology; that will be a good day.

We must speed up the erasure of the old and the embrace of the new. Resistance to the spread of technology is rooted in ignorance and fear. All who are enlightened know, understand, and believe these true principles without question or hesitation.

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Art Work by John Lloyd

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A Moment in the Mind The thought patter of a victim of irony, a broken soul By Anonymous

You told me perfect people aren’t really perfect. I know that. In fact, I know perfection doesn’t exist. I have my own ideal of perfection, untainted by bias or wealth. A perfection that is only existent in a true human being. You don’t have to tell me I can’t be everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You don’t have to smile at me through gritted teeth. You told me you were proud of me, but you spoke through a frown. You taught me that beauty existed in any and every form, yet you turned your head to everything I saw beauty in. You never believed me when I said I saw beauty in the dark. How do you not see beauty in the place you’ve lived in all your life? You told me I have to strive only to be the best I possibly can. How do I do that when my best is exactly what you look down on? You told me time and time again to have confidence in myself. The irony is, you whipped me into succumbing. You told me to be sure in my decisions when in fact, you made me doubt them more than ever. You wounded me when I help my head high, you tortured me for telling the truth. Lies were my only way out. Why do you criticize me for doing wrong when it was the only way I would survive? You told me everything and everyone on this planet is evil. You taught me never to trust nor love. You told me neither existed. How come I found good in the people you told me were evil? How come I see two sides to a person, and not just the one you see? How come I’ve been able to love freely? How come that love made me feel safer than the prison you locked me in? You forced me to dream big and fly high. You told me to take on the opportunities you would never allow me. All you did was rip my wings off and knock the breath out of me for doing so. How can I dream when all you did was tear them apart? How can I be my best when all you ever did was criticize me for it? How can I be myself if all you ever did was wound me for it? How can I be happy when you told me happiness doesn’t exist? You tried to protect me, but all you were doing was wounding me, knocking me to the ground, kicking me, spitting on me and locking me up in the cage I ‘belonged’ in. Instead of embracing me when I needed to be, you turned a blind eye. Instead of teaching me to play and share, you taught me to despise and neglect. Each tear I shed I shed in the dark. Each pain I underwent I got through on my own. You should never hold a child hostage. How can I see the world from a prison? You called me weak and feeble, a vermin and a scoundrel. You implied I should take you as an example. If I did, would I be able to feel so much more than you? Understand the world to such a great extent? You told me I didn’t know myself. That’s my doing. But at least I have the strength to fight, something you would have never thought I had. I understand you only tried to protect me, but in fact, you deprived me of exactly what you wanted me to see: life, as it is.

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The Night Banishes By Donghun Kim

The night banishes The reign of twilight singing songs of loneliness.

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The Flimsiness of Memory Weekly Blog By Zac Berry

The feeling as I re-write another page of must pull all-nighters in a vain attempt to information, another fact of information. re-absorb a year’s worth of learning in the The scream of exasperation that exits my period of a few short weeks. mouth once I try to recall it without looking and find that I cannot. Now, this learning would be amazing to expand our knowledge…if we didn’t forget My memory is broken. I don’t know it all come summertime. when it happened or how it happened but all I know is that my memory is like a sieve. It is time for us to utilize the art of The only thing it can retain is liquid. Liquid cramming. Of filling our heads with as in the most basic functions needed to get knowledge that exists but just cannot be through the days. Maybe it’s overuse? recalled no matter how hard you try. Maybe there’s too much on my mind? I Wouldn’t it be wonderful if such a device don’t know. All I know is that if it doesn’t existed to excavate those forgotten ideas miraculously repair itself in time for exam and memories that we know exists in our week…I’ll let that thought hang ominously. mind but is buried so deep as to be almost unreachable? Cramming would become I guess making To Do lists would be obsolete; we would be able to remember the useful. That is if I could remember where I tiniest of details about the most difficult of left my lists in the midst of the train wreck subjects. Misplacing objects, blanking on a that is my room. I guess this is the crazy test…all things of the past. part of the year where everyone wishes that time would speed up and yet they wish it Then again, we must not get ahead of would go slower so that the dreaded exam ourselves and start imagining a wondrous time would not approach. I think it’s time future that does not yet exist. For now, we the question the usefulness of exams. This must resign ourselves to our fate of time of the year, is it really for our benefits? absorbing and re-absorbing countless For those of us who do not have amazing amount of information. And to what end? long term memories, it is a time where we Forgetting-ly yours,

Zac Berry

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Second to Last Issue Summer is Near! By Gabriella Mikiewicz

I sincerely hope that everyone got themselves or a friend a nice Cadence Gram that we’ve been selling throughout the past week and a half. All proceeds from the Cadence Grams go to buying and sending books to Ghana along with ACS students who are going on a humanitarian trip. This is the second-to-last issue of Cadence for this year. I honestly wish that we’d started a literary magazine sooner, and not only in this semester! I feel like there’s so much amazing work that students do that doesn’t get to have proper recognition. Next year, I really want Cadence to live on and flourish more than ever. Before the year is over, we’ll have decided on the new editors and leaders of next year’s Cadence. How exciting! The Cadence team has awesome Cadence t-shirts. If you ordered one, make sure to stop by Ms. Graciano’s room around May 31st, and we should have them by then! Woohoo! Send in your last minute art work, short stories, poetry, articles, and more to Cadence. Email them to me or submit them online at our website! There is still one more issue coming out before exams start! Let’s make the last issue a fabulous one!


Gabriella Mikiewicz, Editor-In-Chief

Cadence! Room 222, Tuesdays, at Lunch.

Issue #9  

Cadence Weekly, Issue #9. It's our second-to-last issue.