Issue 1 March 2011
Inside this issue... Read inside to learn what some of your best and worst moments in college have been!
The newest online magazine in Davis, made by students, for students
Student art, design, photography, writing, and more!
Advice from seniors and alumni... From Chicken Tikka Masala, to tractor driving, to dancing with your shirt off What you should (and shouldnâ€™t) do during your time in college!
What is Davisâ€™ best hidden secret?
Find out what the best class at Davis is!
TABLE OF CONTENTS 4 Mission Statement About Us 5 6 Bios Student Surveys 8 2
18 Fashion & Style Student Work 22 90 Senior Advice Thank Youâ€™s 91 3
our mission Our goal is to use our experiences and individual skills combined with the knowledge we gained from seminars through the Center for Leadership Learning, to work together to produce something out of hard work and dedication. Our magazine is the result of this cooperation and learned leadership skills. Our mission is to create something passionate and reflective of student life at UC Davis that can be continued for years to come.
about us Mari, Thomas, and Cat started out as strangers at the beginning of 2011, when, through the Center for Leadership Learning, they were grouped together to create a quarter-long independent study project. The requirements were simple and the sky was the limit, but even with such a broad range of possibilities, one thing was clear: we wanted to show our passion for the student body at our school. Cat came up with the idea for a magazine. From there the ideas flowed: student opinions, student work, student style, taste and diversity. The idea blossomed and details were figured out as we continued to talk, discuss, organize, and create. Each meeting brought forth exciting new possibilities as well as unforeseen obstacles. We were forced to balance our educational, work, and social lives with this project. Thankfully, we gained knowledge of leadership, communication, and team development from the
seminars provided by the Center for Leadership Learning that gave us insight on how to work most effectively together. As the quarter progressed and our magazine efforts continued, problems arose, most notably our lack of fund-raising knowledge for printing out the magazine. Still, we worked together to see through the obstacles and find alternative solutions to the problems we faced as new editors of a student magazine. After setting a solid plan into action and incorporating our fellow studentsâ€™ opinion and voice through art submissions, surveys, and interviews, we have finally been able to make our vision a reality. An online magazine publication of student work and personal opinions linked together in one place to share with the rest of the university: created by the students, for the students.
Catalina Fries is a Senior Design and Psychology double major at the University of California Davis. In her Design studies, she specialized in fashion and textiles, though her interests in design range from fashion to photography, graphic design to industrial design, and from design history to architecture. In 2009, she studied abroad in Paris, France, where she had the opportunity to study in the fashion capital of the world, and in 2010, she created her first signature fashion collection for two fashion shows in Spring. She is currently finishing her last quarter at UC Davis, before moving to New York City for two design and media-related internships. Outside of school, she is an avid photographer, she enjoys training for triathlons, and she loves making guacamole.
Arianna Azeved is a Senior Design and Communication double major at UC Davis. Her focus within the design major is in visual communication. She has been interested in design since high school and draws inspiration from fashion, art, interior design, and graphic design. She currently works as a student designer for Campus Unions Marketing and as the Web Master for the UC Davis Design Program site. She plans on graduating next quarter and is excited to pursue a career in graphic design.
Mari Salazar is a third year Psychology and Community and Regional Development double-major. Interests include sustainability, psychology, politics, and economics to name a few. Her goal for her junior year has been to become more involved in personal development endeavors and to balance that with her social and family life. She has gone about this goal by being more active in her community and school campus by doing anything from joining clubs, attending a variety of seminars, and volunteering at the Davis Cold Weather Shelter. She hopes to steer her career goals in the direction of Community Development but is always open to different options as she attends and takes advantage of what the UC Davis community has to offer.
Theresa Fisher is a Junior Design major and Sociology minor, specializing in visualcommunications at the University of California at Davis. Outside of class she is the Social Chair for her sorority, which includes planning and coordinating social events with other Greek Members. In addition she enjoys experimenting in the kitchen, discovering new music, and chatting with friends over a good cup of tea. In the future she hopes to be happily situated at a career that challenges her both creatively and intellectually.
Maricela Salazar Theresa Fisher
Thomas Trevino is a first-year Mathematical and Scientific Computation major at the University of California, Davis. His hobbies include hiking, reading, running, and writing poetry.
Student Surveys We interviewed many of you around campus about your experiences at Davis, your classes,your activities, and more, and we found a variety of interesting responses about the best and worst in Davis, and everything in between! Here are some of your responses.
Where is your favorite place to eat in Davis? - Steveâ€™s Pizza - Hunan (for their Lunch Specials) - Burgers & Brew - Crepeville
Where is your favorite place to eat in Davis? - Steveâ€™s Pizza - Hunan (for their Lunch Specials) - Burgers & Brew - Crepeville
What is/was your favorite dish at the DC? - Grilled Cheese - FroYo - Mongolian BBQ - Santa Fe Chicken Salad
What were your best & worst moments at Davis? Best: - The Dorms - Making new, long-lasting friendships - Sporting Events and ASCE
Where is the best place to study? - Library - Peetâ€™s Coffee - The engineering Library - Outside on a sunny day
Worst: -Failing an exam -Getting bad grades for tough classes -Finals -Biking in the rain/wind -No laundry for a month -Last yearâ€™s weather
What do you think is Davisâ€™ best-kept secret? - Gunrock Pub - The Greenbelt - Bike loops
What was your favorite class at UC Davis? - Human Sexuality (HDE 12)
We also asked some of you to share with the world one word that represents you best. Here are some of our favorites!
FASHION & STYLE There is always time for fashion. Whether you’re a student rushing to class, a professor writing a book, or a banker crunching numbers, looking good makes you feel good, and feeling good makes you work well!
We love seeing that attitude in our student community, and we love coming across true Davis fashionista’s and trendsetters around our campus!
We love this girl’s quirky combination of prints, colors, shapes, and layers. There are a lot of elements in her outfit, but she combines them all perfectly.
This freshman girl knows what being a fashionista is all about. We love how she mix-matched the chevrons on her tights with the trendy floral prints for this spring!
This grad student looks too cool in her high-top shoes, many winter layers and muted colors.
Fashion & Style
This guy’s braids caught our eyes from a block away!
What an awesome way to shave a Mohawk: diagonally, across the side of your head!
We love her relaxed student look – Tom’s shoes, skinny jeans, and some great sunglasses.
STUDENT WORK Fashion 24 Illustration 36 Photography 48 Graphic Design 64 22
Painting 72 Writing 78 23
2010 . ‘Flower Punk’ is how the psychedelic garage band, the Black Lips, describes themselves. These words and the emotions experienced through music are what inspired Zoe’s collection. She was also influenced by the structure of 1960’s mod clothing and the experimental nature of psychedelic music. This juxtaposition is actualized in her collection by contrasting tailored garments and solid fabrics with dripping, multi-colored digitally printed fabrics. Laser cut flowers from recycled record covers include an interesting physical element of music."
Zoe Fuji “Flower Punk”
This garment is the result of Amanda’s first experimentation with braids. Amanda wanted to utilize the lights and shadows that the body and braids can pre sent together.
Inspired by tangled ropes and hair, Amanda braided strips of fabric in beige and black Lycra and jersey. Amanda aimed to give the illusion of deteriorating ropes/braids/hair that consume the body.
Nidia Trejo â€œPatched Puff Dressâ€?
June, 2009. Printed and solid woven fabrics. Scraps of fabrics were sewn together in organic shapes to construct this dress. The skirt was reinforced with tulle; it has an asymmetrical neckline, and crossstitched embroidery throughout.
“Structured Dynamism” February, 2009. This is a newspaper skirt made of 3 copies of The California Aggie newspaper. The silhouette and layers of folds were inspired by flower petals and the all-over splatter paints were inspired by Jackson Pollock's No. 5 painting from 1948.
Amanda Chan “Fear”
Inspired by metal shields and the Venus flytrap, Amanda hybridized the two shapes and textures into two monumental scales of shield and wing-like structures that imprison the body.
This piece is a fantastical garment Amanda made for her History of Fashion Class in which she recreated an actual Victorian costume in her own perspective through beautiful floral brocades and lace.
Miquette Elliott â€œWhite Projectâ€?
The challenge was to make a garment all out of one of two white fabrics: felt or poplin. Miquette was inspired by the Samurai of Tokugawa Japan. She went to several museums including the Japanese collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum for inspiration. She saw the poplin fabric as a more suitable fabric for creating a 'snow suit' and most appropriate keeping in line with the clean simplicity of the Japanese style.
Mika Sakaue â€œWomanâ€?
April, 2010 Charcoal, ink, pencil, and paint on paper 25" x 22" "Woman" embodies what every woman should aspire to be; confident, intelligent, forgiving, compassionate, powerful and sexual
Kate Braham “Nude Man”
2010 Charcoal Fall quarter Kate signed up for figure drawing sessions through the UC Davis Arts and Crafts center in order to keep her drawing skills sharp. This model posed for the class regularly and has also worked for other local artists such as Wayne Thiebaud. This was one of Kate’s favorite poses because of the lighting, folds in the fabric of the pillow and for shortening of the body.
Mia Adorante “On the Edge” October, 2010 Study of live model and the creation of a three dimensional form on a two dimensional surface.
â€œFragmented Formâ€? Study of live model and the linear division and segmentation of outline.
“1940’s Romeo and Juliet” December, 2010 Gouache The costumes for Romeo and Juliet characters were inspired by Mexican-American pachuco dress styles. The baggy and excessive fabric usage in their clothing opposed American laws that restricted civilian fabric consumption as it was reserved for military use during WWII.
November, 2010 These costume designs depict characters from Midsummer-Night's Dream: Titania, Queen of the Fairies--Puck, Servant to Oberon--and Oberon, King of the Fairies. They are wearing post-French Revolution simplified, but radical Directoire dress inspired by the incroyables and merveilleuse sub-culture.
“Directoire Dress: The Other World”
Matthew Leyva Wishnak “Dr. Cray Cray”
February, 2011 Graphite on paper A doodle recreation of a stick figure.
“Minutes of pain and people”
January, 2011 Graphite on paper Matthew drew this in sociology class. He loves the idea of contorted bodies drawing into themselves.
October, 2010 Pen and Ink This drawing alludes to the interconnectedness between humans, nature, and wildlife.
Cristina Fries 46
PHOTOGRAPHY Theresa Fisher Matthew Leyva Wishnak
August, 2010 Digital Photograph Taken over the summer for Design 13, Theresa took this photo in our very own library, focusing on the way light reflects on certain objects.
February, 2011 Digital Photograph This photo was taken around noon on Russell and Portage Bay, in Davis, CA.
2010 Prerna is interested in the beauty that often gets overlooked in mundane objects and scenes; none of the photographs were staged.
Matthew Leyva Wishnak â€œThe Woman in the Mirrorâ€? February, 2011 Digital Photograph Matthew claims that the lighting in his bathroom is fantastic for creating this milky effect for a morning photo shoot.
February, 2011 Digital Composition Focusing on the simple beauty found in nature, this diptych tells the story of newly hatched baby birds.
Lauren Sawvelle “Color Yellow” 54 February, 2011 This is a piece about the city of Davis, California.
Theresa Fisher “Blue Birds”
February, 2011 This photo was taken in Winters, California and is inspired by companionship.
“Chuck Jones Poster”
GRAPHIC DESIGN 2010 Brittany was assigned to create a poster in her Design 16 (in Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop) class about a famous person who had already passed away.
Theron Brown “Arthur”
2010 Digital (Bamboo Pen tablet & Photoshop). 9”x12".
This illustration is a spread from a childrenâ€™s book that Taylorâ€™s grandmother is currently writing.
Brittany â€œComplementary McCue Interior: Blue-Green and Red-Orangeâ€? Brittany was asked to create an interior space in her Design 16 class (in Adobe Illustrator) in a certain color scheme. She chose the complementary colors bluegreen and red-orange.
“Electro” Digitally manipulated photograph
Olga Yaromenka “Lips”
Digitally manipulated photograph
2010 Oil and galkyd medium on wood To create this piece Kate mimicked Jackson Pollock’s action painting techniques. Kate laid the wooden support on the ground and using brushes, sticks and tuna cans Kate created a representation of the tension between the environmental and the tendrils of industry that consumes it.
2010 Encaustic wax on wood Also an exploratory project; Kate had never worked with melted wax before. It took her a couple of tries before she was able to acquire a feel for the timing, viscosity and limits of painting with wax. The bottom layers peer through in the etching of the figures, which are meant to portray that moment of isolation we all experience at one point or another. When everyone else seems to be interconnected, you want to climb into the fetal position and fade into the background.
2007 Acrylic on canvas, 9”x12”
Gather Round Amber Shiau The world seemed like a hostile place, today
Was it my fault? Did I ever ask for the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, the hate filled eyes, the pustulent and oozing sores you so generously heaped onto my plate? See, Dinnertime—in this household, is a serious matter Wash your hands Before sitting down, Put the napkin in your lap No! Not like that— Like this Hey! Don’t touch your fork yet! We have to say grace first! Everyone at the table yet? Oh—take that chair over by the corner Junior can’t sit next to Sally, remember? They’ll fight. Okay, QUIET, everyone! Shut your eyes Bow your head No peeking! Hey, quit that!! Again, a full round of chaos ensues before the meal can even begin. And where have we seen this before? You pierce me with such arctic sentiments, during the two short seconds for which we are actually making eye contact—that You might as well be pelting me with rock-hard vegetables in the frozen-foods section, for I am cornered in. Broccoli, carrots, baby corn
Bouncing off my forehead
Will they leave bruises?
I won’t know until tomorrow
But then what about tomorrow’s dinner? We have to eat, don’t we?? Don’t we?
Word Amber Shiau
An I, is an eye, is an I, is an I. Not sure if ‘I’ qualifies as a real word—it’s just a letter that when capitalized, suddenly ceases to be one of the 26 letters of the alphabet and takes on this new meaning of a thing far deeper and more expansive than that tiny little dot-and-stroke combination could ever hope to signify.
Its two forms— upper case and lower case are like husband and wife of an arranged marriage; together because someone decided to match them, together, not by choice. The two share no common blood—it is as if they are strangers to each other. Foreign objects alongside each other. Ever notice how horribly awkward two ‘I’s’ look next to each other? Yeah. For the longest time, I—heh—tried to avoid using that letter-of-a-word anytime I had to write something personal. Like poetry, I guess. See, we’re even taught in school never to use ‘I’ in a real essay; but you’re writing your own thoughts and perceptions and ideas, so that it becomes unnatural to neglect ‘I’. You have to plan your sentences around that slew of words: I, me, you. Not much of a slew, I guess. You can still use him, her, he, she, it.. But there really is no substitute for that word ‘I’, at all. And in fact, if the perfect substitute for that little word did exist—you can bet that your schoolteachers would be just as staunch in abolishing it from the confines of the classroom as they did, ‘I’. So same, same. Well anyways, I guess I got used to school writing assignments, because these days, I catch myself trying to omit ‘I’ or reword my sentence into excluding ‘I’ even within my own notes and journal entries. Of course it’s expected that you talk about yourself and
your feelings, thoughts, emotion in something like a journal—this is just all very new to me. Me. Great progress is being made in the ‘I’ department, and any page excerpted from my journal will be sure to contain tens of hundreds of stand-alone-‘I’s’. This is good. The poetry part still needs prompting, though. If given a free-write, I—now speaking about my past self—would definitely choose not to write about myself. In first person. It would seem that I have something deeply personal against writing about myself. But I don’t. It’s just conditioning. And I don’t use conditioner in the shower—since years ago. It’s stupid, and it just weighs my hair down with residue. And additionally lame cause that’s just another step to take in the process of showering. Add that to the list of daily routines and rituals—too many to count. If it takes one minute every day, to apply and rinse out conditioner, that would amount to 365/60 = 6 hours per year. Uh.. that’s way less than I was expecting, but hey, 6 hours spent conditioning is 6 hours too many. Wait, most people probably don’t condition every day, though, so then that immediately becomes more acceptable. But not completely. Conditioning, though?! What is it that is being conditioned? Conditioning is like practice or exercise or training. Hair can’t be trained! Can it? So the letter-word ‘I’, or rather the lower case version—autocorrect keeps turning my solitary i’s into I’s—is an interesting pictogram that (surprise) kind of matches with its definition of the self. Quite an unassuming pictogram, with a tiny dot as a stylized head, and
the single stroke representing some semblance of a body-torso formation. The letter ‘i’ is at once, very humble. It blends into all sorts of words we throw ou tof our mouths, and manages to escape undue attention—until, until it becomes CAPITALIZED. But then capitalization further reminds me of the world, and I am uncomfortable thinking about the implications and repercussions of capitalism, and also the word, itself. Anyhow, I think I shall delight in becoming friendly-friendly comfortable with the word ‘I’ in the days to come, because obviously, usage of ‘I’ does not downgrade, simplify, reduce, or take away any of the intricacy or beauty of what you are trying to convey.
Avoiding I, which sounds like improper grammar, only sidesteps the core of what you’re trying to get at, and what I’m trying to get at.
For the Love of a Cookie Lauren Sawvelle
Lydia Hardy sat at her new desk smiling fully content with herself. They had given her the cubical she had requested upon being hired at the Stafford Corporate office. Cube 37 was the far desk at the end of the work room and one of the only spaces with a nice view of the vivacious Chicago streets bellow. It was a tranquil room, quite, plain and simple, just as Lydia liked it. Sighing she gazed about the square grey space. Boxed in by foam board paneling and a rather small entry way fit for a woman her size, she felt everything completely adequate in her new office. Rocking back and forth she tested the stability of her chair, gripping the arms and feeling the cool comfortable leather against her pale skin. Satisfied she stood, opening the large drawers of her aluminum desk. Large filing drawers racked at the bottom, providing a spacious black hole for the paper work that would accumulate in the months ahead. Pulling out the smallest drawer, three shiny new pens rolled towards her finger tips. Triumphantly, Lydia plucked one of the pens, bringing it close to her face and reading the silver lettering baring Stafford’s name. She reached her hand down to the floor, feeling around for her hand bag. From her purse she extracted a travel size Clorox wipes dispenser. Withdrawing a moist towel from the pack, she gently rubbed the smudges off of her new pens and neatly set them back in their place. Closing the desk drawer she noticed faint finger prints and a thin layer of dust. Wiping the table top clean Lydia tossed her rag into the waist basket and glanced at her wrist watch and wondering when the manager would return with the contract he said would only take a few minutes to find. From behind the door she peeked out into the entry way to see who else she would be sharing the office space with. At the far side of the room was the receptionist desk, where most of the business seemed to touch base. Answering phone lines and grabbing copies the blonde haired women moved about with ease. Obviously she has been working here for a while, Lydia thought. Directly across from her cubical was a smaller desk, occupied by a bald man who seemed to be taking up most of the space in his room. Talking rather loudly into his phone, Lydia thought his accent to be from somewhere in the Midwest. Clacking away on a keyboard next to him was a smaller man with big glasses, mumbling under his breath in frustration.
Plastic blinds smacked against the glass door as it swung open with the manager’s firm grip. Startled, Lydia jumped back into her office, pushing her short brown hair behind her ears and quickly smoothing out the crinkles in her pencil skirt. She took a seat, crossed her legs and flashed a brilliant smile as her new manager Kurt Hemingway squeezed through the door. Apologizing for the delay, he handed her a ream of paper describing what would be Lydia’s first assignment as the marketing assistant.
“I’ll give you a minute to look this over and get settled in, I’ve got a quick call I need to make,” Kurt said and then wedged back through the doorway. Lydia began to unpack her things. On her desk she placed a small box of tissues, a pink mouse pad, along with a flower imprinted pen cup which she set next to a picture of Otis, her small green turtle. On the corner of the desk she placed a large glass bowl filled with her bit sized chocolate chip cookies. Ten minutes later, Kurt walked back in the door. “Looks like you’re all settled in, sorry that took me so long,” Kurt said “That’s ok Mr. Hemingway,” “Call me Kurt.” He gave Lydia a wink and handed her another stack of papers. “So this is your first assignment we are going to have you work on. It’s a special project from corporate,” Lydia nodded her head. “We’ll need you to look it over this weekend and have it ready by Thursday,” Kurt told her. “I know that’s a little soon but the marketing director is coming in early this week and wants to see the progress we are making,” “Of course Mr. Hemingway, not a problem,” “Alright then, well welcome aboard Lydia,” Kurt shook her hand. “See you on Monday,” “Have a good weekend, Mr. Hemingway,”
“Kurt,” he reminded her with a smile.
* * * On her way home from work Lydia stopped by the bakery two blocks down from the office for a chocolate chip cookie to celebrate her new job. She loved the smell of the pastries and the warmth of the gooey cookies. It reminded Lydia of her childhood and how her mother would always have a fresh batch waiting on the dining room table; an afternoon reward for good grades on spelling tests in school. Lydia hailed a taxi, and enjoyed her cookie from the backseat. She often thought about relocating closer to the city on these rides home. She hated cab rides, but Chicago was no place for a car owner. Coming through the front door the answering machine furiously blinked red at Lydia. Dropping her purse on the floor and her keys on the kitchen counter, she pressed the button, relieving the machine of its messages. Lydia washed her hands in the sink and plopped down on her brown leather couch. Flipping through the channels she found the Oprah talk show, a special on everyday household germs. She had been waiting for the new episode all week, and found a light afternoon snack appropriate for the setting. A shampoo ad came one, giving her the five minutes she needed to wash and slice three sticks of celery and a spoon full of peanut butter. A round of applause and Oprah was back on, discussing the latest pandemic and how to prevent common germs in the home and at work. Crunching down on a celery stick Lydia watched attentively, almost as if she was taking notes in her head.
“Avoid door knobs and wash your hands frequently. Remember to avoid coughing on your hands in public! This is how most illnesses rapidly spread” barked the guest speaker, a doctor from the Wisconsin medical clinic. Lydia considered herself to be someone with clean healthy habits, but she never realized things as simple as door knobs could be a breeding ground for germs. The second half of the show came on two ad breaks later. Another doctor from Wisconsin was telling Oprah the statistics on germs, how fast they are spread, where they are found and how common living bacteria are found on credit cards and work desks. At this Lydia leaned in closer to the T.V. paying special attention. He went on describing how dangerous the bacteria under finger nails can be for an individual’s health. How many of us surround ourselves with diseases and viruses in the office and at home. Lydia sat back against the couch and looked down at her finger nails in horror, a line of dirt was under the rim. Thinking of all the ways she could be infected by bacteria, she quickly ran for the sink and scrubbed her hands. She went back into the living room and turned off the T.V. She had had enough of Oprah. Reaching for the phone Lydia dialed her mother’s number; she always called her mother when she was most upset. When her mom finally answered on the other end Lydia burst out anxiously all that she had learned on Oprah. Her mother gently assured her that germs live around us and are mostly unpreventable. She told her not to worry and forget about all those awful things she had seen on T.V. Their conversation lasted another half an hour before her mother had to leave for bridge night. Hanging up the phone Lydia still struggled to let things go. She wanted to trust her mother, but Oprah’s show kept replaying in her head.
Monday morning she rolled out of bed with annoyance and washed her hands in the sink. Dressed in a pin-striped suit, she stumbled down the stairs, for a bowl of cereal. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator. Crust had accumulated around the cap and flaked off into her bowl as she unscrewed the lid. Disgusted Lydia, tossed the milk into the trash and the bowl into the sink. She washed her hands and settled for a granola bar. The horn from the taxi cab summoned her to the driveway. Scurrying out to the street she reached for a napkin in her purse, cautiously opening the grimy cab door with it. The cracked leather seats of the taxi reeked of stained cigarette, and their sticky surface clung to Lydia’s pressed paints. Avoiding any sort of contact she spent the ride with her hands fearfully in her lap. Shutting the car door with her napkin, Lydia breathed deeply with relief. It wasn’t until she remembered the long elevator ride up that she reached for her hand sanitizer for comfort. She waited at the lobby floor for another employee to join her. Pushing the elevator button with her bare hands was not an option, after all, the Oprah special had specifically said to avoid the soiled knobs. Barging clumsily through the spinning glass doors, the chubby bald man lunged for the third floor button. He flashed Lydia a grin; beads of sweat clung to his face. Returning the smile she took two steps to the left. Lydia tried to avoid physical contact with the man. He breathed heavily and the air began to feel sticky to Lydia as if she were enduring a hot savannah summer. The chiming bells of the opening door signaled her liberation, arriving finally at her safe haven desk. Plopping down into her chair Lydia put globs of hand sanitizer on her hands and arms. She rubbed furiously, attacking any sweat particles that may have touched her skin. Kurt poked his head in through the entry way. “Good morning Lydia! Hope you had time to look over that packet this weekend. I will be in my office in about an hour after lunch,” he said glancing at his watch. “I want to meet with you about where you’re thinking about starting the project,” Kurt said as he turned towards the door. “Sounds great, I’ll see you shortly,” she replied. She sat back and starred at the packet sitting on her desk. Her phone rang; it was her mother again checking in on her, wanting to know how her first day was going. “Great,” she told her. “But I have to get back to work I’ll call you later,” she said hanging up the phone. Lydia took a minute to breathe and grabbed a cookie, noticing only four were left in the jar. It must have been that big man that ate some. He looked like the cookie eating type. I wonder if he used a napkin. Probably not though, he must have used his hands and just dug right in. Does he even wash his hands? With all the sweat, and he grabs the door knobs, just goes right for them! Ugh disgusting, there are so many things living and multiplying with all the warm body contact on those door knobs. Do the custodians even bother to clean them? I should throw these out, the jar must be infected! Who knows what bacterium is festering in the bowl. Lydia looked down at her hands holding the chewy infected cookie. Dropping the pastry on the floor as if it was going to bite back she scrambled for the bathroom down the hall holding her hands out in front of her. The restroom door swung open and she twisted the hot water on. I’ve got to get this off, it’s eating at my skin, I can feel it tingling. Water flushed over her pale hands, burning them red. The steam hissed out of the spout, clouding the speckled mirror.
Ten minutes later she immerged from the bathroom door, walking coolly and collectively down the aisle. A few people whispered and pointed to her as if she were some kind of nutcase. She tried to act normal, trying to keep a straight face. Lydia ducked back into her cubical, avoiding eye contact with any of the employees around her. Clorox wipes eased her mind, brushing the desk all over with them; she could function at her office once more. The cookie jar was left to sulk in the farthest corner, away from her body and mind. At last she could get to that packet. Noon rolled around and most of the office emptied out for the Chinese take-out down the street. Lydia stayed huddled at her desk, nibbling away at some carrots she had washed and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She felt secure eating her carrots. She trusted them. She washed them and kept them safe in her Rubbermaid container. No dirty hands, no grungy old kitchen had touched her carrots and she was perfectly fine with this. Her stomach churned with the smell her office mates brought back with them. Spicy pork and soy lingered in the room. Shuddering she took another sip out of her BP free water bottle. Focus Lydia, she told herself, I need to get this finished before Kurt gets back from lunch. For her first assignment Lydia would be pitching the idea for a new T.V. ad the company wanted to do. The packet explained how she would be collaborating with the director and assisting him with the project. However, she we need to come up with some ideas for the ad in advance. Lydia felt confident walking into Kurt’s office an hour later. She told him her ideas about color schemes and how they could really get consumers buying with a wholesome relatable approach. Kurt loved her ideas and wanted her to get to work right away. After washing her hands, she returned to her cubical and called her mother to tell her about how much her boss loved her ideas. Her mother was thrilled.
* * *
Thursday came quickly along with the marketing director with his ante rage of assistance. From what Lydia understood he frequently traveled throughout the companies branches giving lectures and supervising the many assistant directors on their projects for the different locations. Walking through the meeting room door Lydia was greeted by a hairy dark haired man. “Hi I’m Lewis the supervising director,” he said. Reaching his hand out, Lydia began to move forward for a hand shake as he pulled back and blew a terrible sneeze into his hand. He brushed off the excesses mucus onto his pant leg and forcefully gripped her hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” Mortified Lydia kept away from her hand and stuttering out a reply. “The pl-pl-pleasure is all m-mine,” Two more employees followed Kurt into the meeting room. “Hey Lewis, nice to see you healthy again, have you just about rid that awful flu of yours?” Kurt asked with a friendly pat on the back. “Just about!”
Lydia drifted from the conversation. She couldn’t distract herself from the director’s shiny cheeks and the toxic bacterium that was now slowly seeping through her pores. It disgusted her, the thought of toxins in her body, her stomach churned. What if she was infected right now? What virus was she uncontrollably absorbing from the left over residue sticking to her hand? Her throat swelled up, she gasped for air and felt so light headed. The room fell silent looking over at her with confused eyes. She choked on her words, nothing could come out. Panic ran across her face and she fled the room. Rushing back into her cubical she slammed the door, locking the entryway. Hand sanitizer, she needed hand sanitizer. Lydia reached for the top of her desk. The bottle was there, and the bottle was empty. Flustered she shook her grimy hands. She needed sanitizer, she needed to scrub, she wanted it off. Lydia shoved the leather chair aside and crouched under her desk. Pulling her knees to her chest, she cradled her legs close to her body. Apprehensively she checked the walls underneath the table for growths of any kind. Home is where she wanted to be, away from all the infestations. It’s only a matter of time before I catch them all, she thought. Pretty soon I will be coughing like the rest of them, sneezing out my tainted snot and rubbing my contaminated hands over door handles and paper work. She envisioned herself shaking Kurt’s hand, spreading polluted colds and sickly germs. Kurt pounded on the door
“Are you alright in there? Lydia open up,” he pounded again. She looked around, she needed an escape. He couldn’t touch her, he couldn’t breathe on her. The four walls boxed Lydia in, there was no way out. The door handle jiggled, a pair of keys clinked together in unison as they tried to open the door. She braced herself, ready for anything. They weren’t going to get her she wouldn’t give up. Lydia was determined to live, and be healthy. The cubical door burst open, Kurt stood in the doorway puzzled at the sight of the women hiding under the desk. She bolted on all fours in between his legs and out into the hallway. Gasps sounded from around the office as people stood to watch the commotion. Scrambling to her feet, Lydia took off running down the staircase leaving Kurt bewildered in the doorway. Reaching the bottom floor Lydia exploded out the door and into the crowded street. Horrified by the swarm of contagious people she darted for the street. Taxi’s screeched to a halt as she weaved in between the traffic. She took off running down the street. Ten blocks east of the office she stopped. Panting she tried to slow her heart rate and her breathing. Only thirteen more blocks to go, I’ve got to get there, I need to go home. Bursting into a run Lydia fled home. Finally reaching her apartment Lydia scrambled for the shower. Neglecting to remove her cloths she turned on the shower and began to scrub every inch of her body. She cried and cried and finally with exhaustion sunk to the shower floor. Letting the cold water rush over her body Lydia sat and sobbed with fear for a few more hours.
* * *
For days the phone rang. Her mother kept leaving messages and Lydia was pretty sure the office was calling as well, but she wouldn’t budge from her bedroom. How stupid do they think I am? I’m not going back there, I’m not leaving this apartment, I won’t get infected again. If I have to I’ll live her all my life. I won’t go out there! The apartment remained shut. Lydia stayed locked inside, only leaving her bedroom for food, which was beginning to run out. A week after her meltdown Lydia was still huddled in the far corner by the bed, rocking herself back and forth. Her stomach growled for attention. She had run out of food four days ago and it was beginning to take a toll on Lydia’s already fragile state. Her mom had stopped calling now. Lydia lied to her last week and told her she was alright and going back to work. She didn’t need anyone coming over to her apartment brining in their germs. That’s the last thing she needed. Her stomach growled again. Lydia tried to ignore it. Another three days went by, she couldn’t take it anymore she needed food,
she needed a cookie.
Four O’clock in the afternoon Lydia finally emerged from her apartment. The sun had begun to vanish behind the cityscape, when the evening winds picked up. Shivers disrupted Lydia’s body and her stomach pinched her abdomen, begging for food. She wanted a cookie, a warm chocolate chip cookie. She found herself outside of the old Chicago bakery. Lydia had just enough money in her pocket to purchase one of the big round gooey cookies. The baker looked at her oddly when she ripped the pastry out of his hand and ran out the door. Blissfully she went back out into the streets ready to devour the chocolaty feast. Opening her mouth to endure the most wonderful bight of delicious chocolaty cookie, a man talking on his cell phone accidently bumped his elbow into Lydia’s hand. Her cookie went flying, landing face down on the sidewalk. The man continued to charge down the street as though nothing had happened, leaving Lydia standing alone with her broken cookie. Tears dribbled down her face as she helplessly gazed at her pastry. She wanted so badly to eat it. Lydia told herself she couldn’t do it; there were just too many germs, the cookie would be the death of her. Moments passed with silence, she was fed up. Angry that she had spent all this time avoiding the joys she loved most in life. Why had she spent all this time worrying about catching illness and disease? Why hadn’t she listened to her mother who was right? What Oprah said didn’t matter. Courageously, Lydia bent down to the cookie and shoved it in her mouth. She didn’t care anymore. The cookie was too good, so warm and soft in her mouth; she could taste the doughy butter fusing with the bittersweet chocolate chips. She chewed with delight, wiping her greasy hands on her pinstripe pants Lydia continued on down the street. Waiving her hand in the air she hailed a cab, opening the door with her bare hands. As the taxi car drove off down the road Lydia laid across the black leather cab seats looking up at the stained spots on the ceiling as if they were stars. She grinned and licked the remaining chocolate off of her fingers.
Words of Wisdom:
Advice from Seniors and Alumni
Name a baby cow
Black out on picnic day
Go to LoveFest.
Drum circles Tour d’ Davis
Take the glass blowing class at craft center
Take ABT49 and FST3 SOS
Dorm room parties. Have an Arboretum dance party
Don’t dance with your shirt off!
Check out the Buddha statue in college park.
Go to see Jason Webley if he ever comes around to Davis again Beware of BUI’s
thank you We greatly appreciate each and every one of you who submitted art,
writing, pictures, poetry and opinions. We could not have done it with out you.
Beware of the crows in winter
And a special thanks goes to our designers who were the final piece to the
Beware of slipping on freshly washed floors in the DC with a bowl of cereal in your hand
puzzle. Arianna and Theresa volunteered their time to help make our vision
Take advantage of the ICC
come to life, and we could not have made this happen without their help and
Swim laps in Hickey pool
For great produce, check out Yolo Fruit Stand Co-op parties after Whole Earth Festival
their incredible talent! Buy textbooks on amazon.com
Beware of over drafting your debit card!
Check out the U-Pick farm in the Summer
We would also like to thank the Center for Leadership Learning for
providing us with valuable skills and tools for making this project possible.
Eat lots of Chicken Tikka Masala at Namaste Nepal
Finding a routine will help manage your time and allow you to accomplish more
Thank you to all the students! This magazine is for you, and without you,
it wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you all so much!
College is the best time of your life. Enjoy every second of it!
Thanks for reading! We hope you enjoyed it. - The Editors
A magazine for students, by students