Cg repeater2017 hires

THE REPEATER

STAFF LIST Chief Editors

Staff

Madi Leonards

Chloe DeHart

Sarah Lewin

Clare Ennis

Jenna Mantell

Annie Erickson

Senior Editor Christopher Labaza

SELF

Special Thanks to Gibbons Educators Rebecca Dason Jennifer Harrison Nicole Herche Janice Jett Chris Kemple Katharine Miller Tripp Reade John Yelenic

Kristen Fitzgerald Georgia Forsythe Alexandra Gromley Ben Haight Lillian O’Brien Lauren Pettibone Izzy Phelan Carter Reilly Lauren Simmons Brian Spangler Joey Uzarski Isabela Volpe Josephine Victorino

Adviser

Printing

Rachelle Garbarine

Fred Howard

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THE REPEATER

COLOPHON

FOREWORD

The Repeater, Volume 20, was produced

Self

by The Repeater staff at Cardinal Gibbons

/self/

High School in Raleigh, NC. It was printed

Noun

by East Coast Digital Printing in Morrisville, NC. The book contains 61 pages, including 4

A person’s essential being that distinguishes him/her

full inside page white (Snow Willow Petallic)

from others, especially considered as the object of

dividers, 8 full inside color pages, and was

introspection or reflexive action.

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produced using Adobe InDesign. Throughout the entire book, titles were printed in 24

Self is an abstract concept that is fluid and personal.

point Bodoni print and authors’ and artists’ names were printed in 10 point Source Sans

It can only be described and shared with us. Each of us

Pro print. Poems were printed in 10 point

can reveal small insights, but everyone is truly unique.

Source Sans Pro print.

Self also cannot be quantified. There are no numbers, formulas, or theories that can pinpoint a person’s true self.

Self cannot be concretely defined.

Not only does The Repeater contain snippets of individuals willing to share, but the magazine also has its own qualities of self. The true self lies within all of us and can never be dulled or negotiated.

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THE REPEATER

VOLUME 20

VISUAL ART

5

LITERARY

Anna Elizabeth Helton

8

Avery Ang

33

Ody Oguama

7

Devin Haughey

38

Lillian O’Brien

10

Catherine Thelen

37

Christopher Labaza

9

42

Samantha Gallaro

12

Ana Solana

40

Julia Germano

11

Reilly Waters

Mallory Kemple

Sarah Lewin

14

Jenna Wood

41

Julianna Salcido

13

Lela Cermin

46

Kelsey Bridges

15

Amy Metzinger

43

Anton Stoneking

16

Camryn Usher

49

Alexandra Gormley

20

Catherine Thelen

45

Amanda Chacon

18

Olivia Adams

52

Nicole McCormick

26

Anna Palmtag

47

Lily Ruocchio

19

Joya Libbus

53

Brynn McDonald

27

Maeve McKinstry

48

Kat Cooke

21

Jenna Mantell

56

Amy Metzinger

28

Spencer Whalen

51

Stephanie Contreras

23

Kelsey Bridges

57

Ana Solana

29

Madi Leonards

55

Alex Kuzy

36

Lindsay Strickland

59

Izzy Crabtree

31

Sophia Jenny

60

Maeve McKinstry

32

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THE REPEATER

THE MAN Ody Oguama ’18

MOI MÊME Anna Elizabeth Helton ’17

How can we begin to understand, The wonders of all these people’s hands, The people of this living earth that is, Many grown, although many still kids.

Each created so unique, Whenever The Man Above just speaks.

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He says, He does, He is so great, To where we must appreciate, Not only his works but Him as One, And to be in awe of what he’s done.

I just look above and see all the stars, And then look around and see who we are, It’s just so great, just so perfectly placed, That we all must do, and always embrace, The wonders that we were all blessed with, For each of us have a special gift.

Whether that gift is to sing or to run, We were blessed with the gift to be with someone, And although that someone might not seem there, The Man who did it all, has and always will care.

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THE REPEATER

GENTLE ALONE Christopher Labaza ’18

MEGAN

Lillian O’Brien ’17

Across the antiquated backdrop of twilight and the sea sailed the ferry boat of old, lonely men. It steamed for South, steadily rocking in the gentle, black waves. A soft, bitter remorse floated in the air like salt, waiting for the world to burn.

The fears of weary passengers swirl in little eddies at the ferry’s side. They cry in shuttering voices to the swans, begging them to forget their tears. A trembling sadness shakes cold the thin veil of hope strung loosely from the edge of

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happiness.

On that desolate, rocking ferry, I sit and watch the tides drift away in small, smudged letters. The man beside me, drunk on misery, watched the painted sky and wished away his life in whispers to his rotting grave. He is half-asleep and half-alive, and I could tell by the flicker of his eyelid that there was nothing left for him to get away that didn’t come from the neck of an Italian-blown bottle.

Across the bay we went, rocking away from the temptations that brought us our glimpses of happiness, and our shadows of pain. Rocking, rocking, wasting away, in the hull of a ferry that only goes one way. We looked for what lies ahead, leaving behind the survivors, surviving on the desperate hopes of mad men.

The soft sea breeze filtered salt into scratchy, unkempt beards. Sleep was a persistent necessity that was left at the docks long ago, to spare the little space we had left.

I am sinking into the deep murk of the ocean, amidst the crowd of sinking men, as we fight for the last few breaths of smoky-gray air. The ferry paddles on, carrying us on and not looking back at the bay, as twilight turns to black. As everything turns to black. As the ocean lights to a crisp, golden fire.

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THE REPEATER

BRIGHT NIGHT Julia Germano ’17

WALKING ON THE TRACKS Samantha Gallaro ’17

In life, there is no written scale that ranges from the deepest grief to the highest happiness because everyone has a different perspective. The following quote by Fyodor Dostoyevsky shows a comparison concept that is often overlooked: “The darker the night, the brighter the stars, The deeper the grief, the closer is God!” We, as humans, have to compare all events and feelings to other events and feelings. This is a biased system because the events are the same amount as bad or good, no matter what else happens independent from them. It is our feelings and surroundings that change VOLUME 20

our feelings toward these moments. The quote can be interpreted literally because the darker the night, the brighter the stars seem in comparison to the dark; however, the stars have the same brightness no matter what.

In life the sadder and lower we feel, the other bad things blend in and it all feels bad, but once something good happens, it feels magnificent in comparison. The good event might have gone unnoticed, if before the surrounding events were also good.

God is always working in our lives, and, as humans, it is hard to remember to turn to God when we are successful because we feel like we can do things on our own. In reality, all good comes from God; therefore, when we have a good moment surrounded by bad, the good event shines “brighter” than the surrounding darkness. Perspectives run our lives and how we feel; we are biased towards or against moments based off of other moments.

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THE REPEATER

STRESS

Julianna Salcido ’19

THROUGH MY EYES Sarah Lewin ’17

Wake up, put on makeup, brush your teeth and your hair figure out what you are going to wear. stress Stress STRESS Stress makes our lives a mess VOLUME 20

Because when we worry about stress we don’t do our best When we don’t do our best we get surpassed by the rest.

And who wants to be left behind? stress Stress STRESS Never thinking for ourselves Always seeing how to please others before ourselves Work upon work stress Stress STRESS Always trying to be the best, but now we need rest but all we can do is just stress Stress STRESS.

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THE REPEATER

REFLECTIONS Kelsey Bridges ’17

JAKE, AUSTIN & DYLAN Anton Stoneking ’17

The simple open space, transformed into decorated party room, was filled with friends and family. My thirteenth birthday was an event that will be ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life. I believe that day, this one event, marked my transition from childhood to adulthood.

Leading up to the party, friends and family were continuously asking what I wanted for the big thirteenth birthday. When I could not come up with anything to tell them, it got me thinking. If I could not come up with VOLUME 20

something that I wanted or needed right off the bat, then I really don’t need anything new. That’s when an idea popped into my head. This was an opportunity to do something amazing for a charity or an organization that could use some new supplies or materials. While thinking of different places where the gift donations could be put to good use, I remembered that earlier in the year, I volunteered at a Special Olympics event. I remembered how much that experience made an impact on me and how much I admired the passion of all the athletes who competed. This made it clear that the Special Olympics was the organization that I wanted to help out.

I asked everyone coming to my birthday party not “ to bring a gift for me. ” I asked everyone coming to my birthday party not to bring a gift for me.

Instead, I requested that they bring money for a donation to the Special Olympics Foundation. I couldn’t wait for the party to end! Really, I wanted to see how much we raised. We brought in nearly $1200, a donation that would be made to the Clayton Special Olympics.

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THE REPEATER

I will never forget the look on the volunteers’ faces as we brought in this generous sum of money. The feeling that rushed through me was overwhelming! A month after the party, I received an email from the

THE WARRIOR SPIRIT Amanda Chacon ’20

manager at the Clayton Special Olympics, saying that she wanted to meet with me. When we got together, I realized that she was not alone. She had brought along three athletes who participated in the Special Olympics

It is present in a forehead beaded with sweat

events.

Eyes narrowed in concentration

She wanted them to meet me; Jake, Austin, and Dylan, I will always

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remember their names.

These three athletes showed me just how much my “ decision to donate to their organization meant. ” These three athletes showed me just how much my decision to donate to their organization meant. They told me that the money went to purchasing more equipment, which allowed them to practice and perfect their craft before an upcoming event. We met for almost an hour; most of that time was spent with them telling me how much they enjoyed competing and playing sports. Meeting with Jake, Austin, and Dylan truly showed me how much volunteering and donating can affect an organization and the people involved. A huge impact can be made just through the goodness of your heart.

My thirteenth birthday party was an event that will never escape me. The fact that just giving up birthday gifts could bring so much joy to other

The bitter taste of blood inside a bitten cheek It is in the countless hours of study and practice All-nighters of hard work fueled by sheer willpower Followed by stifled yawns and dark bags under eyes It is in the colossal, heartbreaking failures Falling to the ground after a great deal of fruitless effort The attempt to hold it in, to keep tears from falling It is in those tough episodes of crippling doubt Frustrated clenched fists and frustrated clenched jaws Wishes that maybe, someday, things will get better It is in getting back to your feet after the fall The re-establishment and rekindling of hope and passion The endurance of a strong resolve It is in the crows of victory, of achievement Shouts of joy cried for all to hear, caused by success A fist pumping into the air, fueled by accomplishment and adrenaline It is in looking back on it all The realization made when remembering the blood, sweat, and tears: “I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

people is amazing. This event changed my life and I believe it transitioned me from childhood to adulthood. I became more aware of how much I personally can help and serve others. Is there any better feeling than serving others and bringing joy to someone’s life? Not if you ask me…. because I will tell you the story of Jake, Austin, and Dylan.

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THE REPEATER

11:49 P.M. Lily Ruocchio ’19

OPTIMAL VARIETY Alexandra Gormley ’18

I met a boy on a plane His hair was blonde And eyes blue.

We head in the same direction not knowing each other's final destination Which scared both of us.

His eyes were glossy from sleeping on my shoulder.

His hands were dry

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But felt smooth on my cheek when he wiped away my tears.

We never revealed our age, Knowing it didn’t matter.

He had a scar on his right eyebrow he got when he was seven From trying to ride a bike.

The boy on the plane knows my fears But I don’t know his name.

Once the plane hit the ground We knew it was the end.

We walked to regain our past Not knowing we were each other's future.

No phone numbers exchanged, No return address given, No “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I saw him run into his mother’s arms And shake his father's hand.

He was home.

And I was just a house guest.

He walked through the sliding doors, His luggage in one hand and his mother's shoulder in the other.

He turned around to look for me But I knew seeing the scar on his eyebrow would never set me free.

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THE REPEATER

NOT A REBEL

Why would you do that to your hair? Why do you rebel? Why are you such a

Kat Cooke ’17

rebel? Oh the questions…. Why? WHY? Why do you even need to ask? Because it is ME THAT’S WHY! I AM UNIQUE. I AM my own person.

I am not a rebel.

I AM NOT A REBEL.

Just because I wear crazy hairstyles that most aren’t used to seeing doesn’t mean

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I am a rebel. It doesn’t mean I intend to break the rules society has made for us to

I shave my hair because I LIKE IT not because I wish to rebel against the rules the

follow.

system has provided. I LIKE DIFFERENT. I LIKE UNIQUE. Shaving my head and

I am NOT a rebel.

my… artistic style, if you will.

“

I am NOT a rebel.

dyeing my hair funky colors is who I am. It IS me; an expression of what I like;

I dye my hair different colors because I like it. I like being unique.

”

acceptable in a society that says be yourself? I would like to talk to the someone

I do not wish to exist in a world of simple black and “ white or shades of gray. ”

who made the rules on that one. What kind of example are we setting in this

I do not wish to exist in a world of simple black and white or shades of gray. I

I dye my hair different colors because I like it. I like being unique. WHY is that not

world where we encourage kids to be themselves and then turn around and judge them for being unique, for being yourself? Why does it matter how I look?

Aren’t you always telling us don’t judge a book by its cover?

want to LIVE in a world of a thousand different colors. A world where I can shine in my own individuality and let others bask in that same sun.

I am not a rebel.

I prefer unique styles rather than the everyday average. Who wants to wear a boring simple hairstyle? Who wants to wear boring black and white? Who wants

I want to live in a world where individuality is an acceptable norm and not

to live in a monochromatic world? Certainly not me. I like living in color. I want

something that is frowned upon! But with the laws and restrictions I find it hard

to live in a world that has hundreds of different colors in an infinite amount of

to be me. Why can’t you just let me be me? Why can’t I express my style? Why

shades.

must I conform? I do not care what others think. I do not seek attention, though that might be what it appears to be based on my appearance. I seek simply to be

I AM NOT a rebel.

me, my own person in my own.

Society and its rules have other ideas for artistic expression; for my artistic expression. Why do you do crazy things with your hair? What have you done?

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THE REPEATER

MI AMOR

Stephanie Contreras ’17

MY DREAM SELF Nicole McCormick ’17

i barely know my smile, oh it’s so rare to see. especially without you and me in the same room. oh and how i love hearing the breathless wonders you always share. or how you would peek through your dark hair. when you cried your tears were like morning dew.

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do you have any idea any clue? if i love for love, or attention? maybe i just need someone with me too, attention is always nice but fleeting, at least someone answered my lonely plea. you’re the only thing going on in my mind. i raise my head and sip tea thinking, i love you, can you hear my heart beating?

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THE REPEATER

A NEW PERSPECTIVE Brynn McDonald ’17

IMAGINATION

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Amy Metzinger ’17

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THE REPEATER

GESTURAL FIGURE

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Ana Solana ’17

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THE REPEATER

EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Maeve McKinstry ’17

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Izzy Crabtree ’17

ME

National Gold Medal Winner 2017 Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards Program

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THE REPEATER

BREADTH Avery Ang ’18

ADULTHOOD Alex Kuzy ’17

It’s a typical Friday night in the summer. I sit on the couch with the remote flipping through channels, attempting to find something “remotely” interesting.

I almost wish I didn’t have this much authority.

provide for themselves. Other than the fact that I don’t have a steady income, I had reached that point in my life. Throughout my life, my parents were always there to teach me what I needed to know. Now it’s time for me to teach myself.

One of the things I have taught myself was My sister, two years younger than me, how to juggle. Learning to juggle on my naturally has her own interests that don’t own, I showed myself that I am capable of exactly overlap with any whatever I set my mind of mine. My parents used to. One ball, then two, My parents were with then three….then four. I to always be around... always, but two years ago me for the first fifteen concentrated and didn’t they made the decision to years of my life giving let anything stop me. start their own business. me the tools that I need Watching the balls stay Now, they work late on in the air made me think for success now and in most nights. Though I miss about the many things them at home, I love the the future. that my parents were independence. I admire responsible for as I grew. their integrity and work ethic. I’m so proud The sports, private school, social activities, they built something that they can call their hobbies and clubs; I did it all. Well, they did own. It wasn’t always this way. it all. My parents were with me for the first fifteen years of my life giving me the tools Not all kids get the experience of bonding that I need for success now and in the future. and learning from their parents like I did. I never heard them complain. Okay, maybe Looking at my friends who aren’t as close a few times. But they gave up so much so with their parents as my sister and me or that my sister and I could have so much. have had family issues like divorce, I can They kept the balls in the air, one by one. see the benefits of our close relationship. Now, having some independence can take Having them suddenly both disappear me the rest of the way on this life journey. hasn’t been completely negative, there So, I guess, in the end...I really didn’t teach comes a time in every kid’s life when they myself how to juggle….I also learned it from decide that they are self sufficient and can my parents.

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“

”

National Silver Medal Winner 2017 Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards Program

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THE REPEATER

THE BOYS

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Catherine Thelen ’17

WHO’S WALKIN’ WHO? Devin Haughey ’17

The cliché “dog is man’s best friend”

all withstanding fear, until finally, the clock

undervalues the unbreakable bond between

speeds up, the sun shines and the airplane

man and beast. Bred from wolves, dogs

dissipates. Stella and I are more alike

have a belly for bones and blood. Whether

than different. We have our flaws and our

it be the bulk of a German Shepherd, the

strengths. We sleep, we eat, and we both

bite of a Pit Bull, or the bark of a Rottweiler,

have the supernatural ability of reading

the broad behavior of such brute animals

each other’s minds. As I attempt to hide my

seems to contradict the image of a “best

thoughts, Stella has no intention of doing

friend.” Yet, with just one grab of the leash,

the same. Stella expresses her ideas not

one glance of the eyes, one sound of the syllable, a world of imperfections appears perfect.

Nothing appreciates life more than my dog on a walk.

Nothing “ appreciates life more than my dog on a walk.

Convulsing in the corner of the room, my proud puppy stands with stiff legs, at ease to the airplane roaring overhead. “Stella! It’s okay puppy! It’s just a plane.” At almost 5 years of age, Stella has never changed, and will never

33

”

with words, but with actions.

Stuck

horizontally

on

the

couch, I already knew my fate.

It was inevitable. One must take the queen for a…W-A-L-K. Yes, spelled out, for even hinting the word’s pronunciation may stir

whines and whimpers. “Stella. Do you want to go for a w—” Before I could finish the question, the loud whip of a tail and kiss of a tongue made the answer clear. YES!

change. Forever and always will she be

Outside, a beautiful day was unfolding in

my puppy; always and forever will I be

front of our eyes. Stella sets the pace, while

her master. Stella: the dog, the puppy, the

I patiently follow. Together we trot, walking

reminder. Neither tongue nor tail can resist

past yesterday’s houses and neighbors.

the desire of motion. The happiness is

Memories of the past mixing with memories

perpetual; the feeling is real. The clock on

of the present. Another day, another walk,

the wall ticks second by second, each tick

another adventure. It’s been the same walk

more terrorizing than the last, validating

for years, but each day has a different

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THE REPEATER

discovery; each walk has a different

the dog. Stella would not be able to walk

obstacle; and each adventure has a different

without me, and I would not be able to walk

treasure.

without her. We only walk a few miles, but at the end, we’re exhausted. Our favorite

Occasionally, Stella and I have to take a pit

thing to do after a long walk is a nice power

stop. Whether it be a bathroom break or

nap. Filled with a sense of completion and

a quick chit-chat, one thing is for certain:

satisfaction, falling asleep is an easy task to

Stella hates to stop. To her, each second is

manage. As I pass out on the couch, Stella

wasted opportunity. While I take my time,

again takes up the corner of the room. Now,

Stella drives forward, stopping only to gasp

it is peaceful and serene.

HOW GRAVITY WORKS Ana Solana ’17

for air. Multiple times I’m forced to stop, switching the leash from one hand to the

Life is a walk. Not a “walk in the park,” but

next. With my shoulders spent, I completely ignore the new

“

of life are often devoid of choice.

When I talk to neighbors, it is

Life is a walk. One may not have the pleasure Not a ‘walk in the of knowing that home is a block park,’ but a walk away, or that after a magnificent nonetheless. hill is a beautiful view. One must

never a pleasure controlling

simply believe. Believe in the

blisters forming on my hands; VOLUME 20

a walk none the less. The paths

the walk continues.

”

Stella. Often the conversation gets diverted

path, the pace, and the pain. The suffering

by a squirrel, a car, or a fellow stroller. I know

will end, not at the end of the walk, but at

Stella’s behavior is an inconvenience, but I

the start of optimism.

let it slip anyway. It’s not worth the stress.

Once, a man asked me “Who’s walking

Stella embodies positivity. Whether the day

who?” and I just smiled back and said, “It’s

be cold and gray, or warm and sunny, Stella’s

resistance training.”

attitude never changes. Her tongue and tail are physical indications of happiness

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To be honest, that man could not have

and love. The sky could be falling, the

asked a more valid question. When Stella

airplane could be roaring, but even in times

and I walk, the benefits are equal. Stella is

of distress, good overrides evil. A tongue

walking me just as much as I am walking

kisses away the pain; a tail waves away the

her. By saying “it is resistance training,”

pessimism. The sky is dancing; the airplane

the answer deprecates the benefits for

is singing.

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THE REPEATER

ALWAYS Jenna Wood ’20

MY CALL Reilly Walters ’17

Sophomore year came along

That make it all worth it

Didn’t know where I was going

They’ll help you to the top

You would guess I did

It’s the people around ya

By the way I told my story

That make it all worth it

So confident in myself

They’ll help you to the top

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I was so wrong Then Ferg came along

So I’m sitting up here

And showed me my call

Performing for you I’ll ask ya one thing

It’s the people around ya

What is your call?

That make it all worth it

Open up to God

They’ll help you to the top

And find your purpose

It’s the people around ya

And with His help

That make it all worth it

Your call will surface

They’ll help you to the top It’s the people around ya

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So I’m standing on this stage

That make it all worth it

And had a cool thought

They’ll help you to the top

What if I did this for days?

It’s the people around ya

Let’s give it a shot

That make it all worth it

It’s the people around ya

They’ll help you to the top

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THE REPEATER

FUN IN THE SUN Amy Metzinger ’17

TRADING PLACES Mallory Kemple ’20

She was from space The empty but marvelous space.

She held her loved ones so tightly But everyday she would close her eyes And dream of a different life.

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She looked down at the darkness Imagining what it would be like to be there To finally be free.

One day, one miraculous day She escaped the prison within the stars.

She breathed air she never thought she would And gravity was the only thing holding her down.

But one day She woke up and saw not constellations, But gunshots.

She saw not peace, But war.

And the ones that were free from the prison in the sky Were the ones who needed to be held there the most.

Places she’d stay, Were all torn down.

But then she met her, at the bottom of the earth.

When everyone else turned away from her, she came closer.

When everyone else thought she was to blame, She trusted her more than she could understand.

The only place she felt safe, was in her arms.

And the sky fell in love with the ground.

But one day, she had to go too.

Alone, always alone Except at night When one could look up and see the stars so bright, The other could look down and stare at the ground And those two lonely souls could become one Now that they know who they’re looking for.

People she turned to, Blamed her for things she’d never done.

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THE REPEATER

LIVESTOCK Catherine Thelen ’17

A GUITAR PICK Lela Cermin ’17

A Guitar Pick, a Rattle, and a Poker Chip The room is off the corner of the house, Trapped in the follies of time; He’s made sure of it.

He needs no machine, no magic words Just the room.

If he closes his eyes, feeling blindly, He’s a young boy again, and a new father, VOLUME 20

And a rebel, and a gambler, and a long-haired guitar player.

Everything he once was, he is again in the room full of Treasures time forgot.

It is only when His withered eyes are opened again He feels his age, Time and time again.

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THE REPEATER

SHADOWS

Maeve Mckinstry ’17

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Anna Palmtag ’20

POKER

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THE REPEATER

Everyone deserves to feel significant and important within their life; moreover, putting an end to the stigma is something I feel is necessary for

A GIFT

our world.

Camryn Usher ’17

I have never looked at them as special needs, but instead special

“You have a gift, one that should be shared with the world.”

I have heard those words countless times throughout my life, never truly understanding their importance. Hearing and understanding are two completely different things, and it has not been until recently when I have understood why my mother has said them so many times. She was not trying to make me feel better about myself, but instead push me in the right direction in order to turn a passion into something a little more. Ever since

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I was young I have been drawn to those with special needs, and they have been drawn to me.

I never considered it a gift, but more like another “ interest or connection. ” I never considered it a gift, but more like another interest or connection.

I was never able to figure out what it was that connected me to them; however, growing up around someone with not one but two disabilities enabled me to gain a sense of respect for anyone affected by special needs.

Bullying has been present since the beginning of time. Acting out against race, religion, outer appearance, or any characteristic that causes you to be considered “different,” has been an issue our world continues to face.

Those born with special needs have never had the chance to be fully accepted by our judgmental world. They are either looked at as someone of lesser importance, or are treated with insignificance.



characteristics. I learned early on that they are people first.

I try hard to include the gift of the individual before the disability. Those affected have conquered things within their lives that many of us could not imagine. They are not given the same opportunities as those without disabilities, and constantly live in fear of the judgment people have towards them. Disabilities are challenging to cope with; however, these certain people were chosen to have these gifts and characteristics, and by making them aware that they are gifts and not burdens is the first step to recovering their broken and beaten confidence.

I have the pleasure of saying that my life has been changed by the gift I was given.

Why not take the steps toward making the world a “ better place, by starting with something that affects so many? ” As I end one chapter of my life and start the next, I am finding out more and more about who I am, and the person I want to become. If there is one thing in my life that I want to accomplish, it is helping all those who suffer daily by harsh stigmas and criticisms. I want to assist them; to help them gain a sense of importance and confidence. Why not take the steps toward making the world a better place, by starting with something that affects so many? Everyone should hear the words and know that they are gifted.

Everyone should be told that they have a gift worth sharing with the world.

It would make my mother happy to know that I listened.

So, please take a minute and ask yourself...what’s your gift?

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SPENCER Spencer Whalen ’20

COAL DEMON Olivia Adams ’19

Says Coal demon to Summer rain “Why look at me with such disdain?

Why sit there in such a pout Instead of putting all my fires out?”

Says the rain, “I don’t understand, Why you scorch entire land Burning brush with deadly might

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Cutting lives short in searing light Is the brief warmth of fire’s kiss Worth any and all of this?”

Says the coal in swift reply “Do not lay such blame in bold lie For you cannot point and shout For some to have rain, some must be without.

For a lake to fill, another must run dry For one sky to burst, another must die For who are we for us to say Which scale tips which way?

It’s true I go where I am told, To refuse the winds would be too bold” Rain responds in thoughtful grace As Coal dances in her place “I see what you say, I see what you mean There is no life truly pristine.

There is no book, no rule of thumb But simply doing what must be done.”

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Realism isn’t hard in thought, only hard in practice. Deflating hard worked “solutions” may seem heartbreaking, but reality checks are necessary for individual growth; after all, moms

UNTITLED

are dedicated to the perfect development of their child.

Joya Libbus ’17

Entrusted with the golden house key. Finally! A chance to prove responsibility. The success of one babysitting task led to the speedy transition into makeshift momhood.

Makeshift momhood (/māk, SHift mäm, hood/) noun: Acting in the fashion of a mother without physically having children.

of “Mom.” Goodbye childhood, hello early-onset adulthood.

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Friends may come and go, but once a family - always a family. Moms help the family stay connected and rid problems within the group. Even if two friends fight, the family cannot be broken apart. Moms are to child, as dogs are to man: loyal. The loyalty has created a

Babysitting neighbors became babysitting peers; babysitting peers earned the rightful title

“

“Even if two friends fight, the family cannot be broken apart.” sense of respect and pride for my friends. Defending their honor in arguments and staying by their side symbolizes my love and alliance. Receiving calls at strange hours of the night, no longer phases me. Driving long distances to pick up friends, no longer phases me. I have

Babysitting neighbors became babysitting peers; babysitting peers earned me the rightful title of ‘Mom.’

”

Imagine a party scene with sweaty, fast-talking, slow-dancing teenagers and a park with billowing clouds, and verdant grass, and sterling swings. Two very different environments, yet disaster strikes and the “on-call mom” must be prepared to work with any available instruments. Vomit seeping down each carpeted step? Fine, back seat blanket to sop up the liquid. Handled. Blood dribbling down arms due to roughhousing on the slide? Fine, tie a portion of a ripped shirt around the cut. Handled. No matter how, what, or where, problems are always solved by adapting to various environments- a conditioned skill.

Expecting honesty, friends come spewing their unrealistic ideas, seeking my conscientious response. Honesty may hurt, but the realistic route is required. Prophetic instinct (more likely the desire to not recreate past events) guides the feedback for impractical ideas. From school problems to social situations realistic advice is rightfully expected and delivered.

Friends subconsciously understand their ideas are crazy, but my definite “NO” eradicates the possibility of execution. “No, copying a four-page paper from the internet and lying to your technology hating teacher about writing it is horrible. He will realize the lie.”

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handled almost every conceivable situation: breakup with boyfriend in a Target parking lot? Crying in a Trader Joe’s bathroom? I do not resolve these situations because they will grant me the title of Best Bedtime Storyteller, but because of my inherent responsibility to be available when friends need me. The practice of loyalty nurtures the formation of future fidelity.

Smile. Everyone expects a smile. Moms don’t cry, do they? Being the rock is hard, but habitual for the Mom. Friends call me for motivation, advice and a shoulder to cry on, but the service cannot be returned. Subdue internal feelings for the best interest of the group.

Others cannot know of my own problems, for they would feel like their problems are mere impositions. Teenagers notoriously require hours for venting, and if Mom wants her hours who will ever listen to the teenager? I sacrifice for the bettering of the group’s social and mental state. Controlling emotions allows for a stable life and a sane mind.

Transitioning to the Mom of the friend group was humorous at first-“Thanks for picking up the trash, mom.” “God you’re such a mom-” yet my self-imposed responsibilities manifested into life lessons. The ability to adapt to unfamiliar surroundings, creating realistic thoughts and plans, being loyal, and having complete control over my feelings will enhance college, marriage, and “real” momhood experiences. Maybe the future holds becoming the Mom of my college friend group, or maybe not, but I will be able to utilize the takeaways of Momming and cherish the memories for the remainder of life.

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MASON

Jenna Mantell ’17

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Madi Leonards ’17

FOR HER

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She is a math genius, and I not so much. Being under her light gave little room for me to prove my ability to write, to imagine, and to picture. Not many people realize that I

UNNOTICED

really enjoy describing or capturing moments, memories. I’m a memory hoarder. The

Kelsey Bridges ’17

act of taking an experience, grasping it in any way, and giving it back to others is what drives me.

Pink and Yellow. Same outfit, two different colors. That’s how we started, the typical

own outfits, our own looks. Yellow was no longer my thing. I loved purple. Then sky

I have softball, she has cross country. I have dance, she “ has track I do shotput and discus; she runs the 800. ”

blue. Then lime green. Then turquoise. I could never decide. My sister still claims pink,

Creativity and art are not the words that many use to describe me. But that’s part of

twin thing: same outfit, same hair, same life. At least we got our own colors. I was yellow, and stuck by it for a long time. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long for us to pick our

always has and most always will. It may have been easy to switch up and establish

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different favorites, but establishing different lives was a whole other story.

“

It may have been easy to switch up and establish different favorites, but establishing different lives was a whole other story.

”

The Bridges Twins. Jordan. I have responded to both. But my name is Kelsey. I’ve heard it, and I’ve claimed it, but that name has never seemed to register as only mine. It has always been Kelsey and Jordan, and we have always been together. Inevitably, this led (and still does) most of my conversations to “Do you like having a twin?” “Do you like the same things?,” “Do you share a room?”, and the like. I love these questions because I love Jordan, but it happens so often that at some point I had started to see myself only as a twin. I had neglected the fact that I am an individual, I am Kelsey. There is more to me. It felt like being a twin often overshadowed being me.

We both like the #13 on the Jersey Mike’s menu, we both enjoy listening to Adele, and we both love obsessing over Sarah Dessen’s books.

me, a big part of who I am.

Taking pictures and writing words are my loves. My 2,308 photos on my IPhone camera roll, and my daily journal can attest to that. And the color yellow started it all. As an infant, and then some, the color yellow was something I only had, it was assigned to me. My brother had blue, my sister pink. Just like yellow, I have my eye for color combinations, for writing, for expressing. And just like pink, my sister has a knack at board games (she wins every… single… game), and an outstanding understanding of math. We each have our own, and we each are our own.

Recently, I discovered that I can use my unique skills and talents to show the world. I am allowed to be Kelsey and at the same time, be a twin. I want to showcase my creativity, and share words and images; letting others know that I have thoughts, feelings and skills that are all my own. Significant moments have made an impact on my life, I want to tell others about them, creating something influential or perhaps, beautiful. My twin sister is there to support me through and through, and I her, even when distance separates us. Yes, we are determined to journey to different places, different schools.

There, we shall work hard to leave our own, unique mark. There, I shall let my voice be heard while I listen for my name…Kelsey Jo Bridges!

Yet, all of our similarities don’t define us as the same.

I have softball, she has cross country. I have dance, she has track. I do shotput and discus; she runs the 800. I like to create; she likes to calculate.

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CELLFIE

YOU CAN

Sophia Jenny ’20

Lindsay Strickland ’18

You can have an opinion, but it has to be the right one You can express yours, but it has to be the right way You can fight for your morals, but if they are different, they’re not right You can say what you want, but you will be criticized for it You can share your thoughts, but people might say you’re wrong

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because of your education You can state your mind, but you will be condemned because of your race You can show your perspective, but you will be belittled because of your gender You can convey your ideas, but you will be patronized for your age You can give up, but then who will prove them wrong?

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The Repeater 2017 Cardinal Gibbons High School 1401 Edwards Mill Road Raleigh, NC 27607 (919) 834-1625 cghsnc.org