overload v3
ECG Journalism Club “The Overload”
The Early College at Guilford 2012-2013 Volume 3, Issue 1
Farewell... Letter from Editors: Inbox
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News
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Literature
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Haejin Song (Founder, Editor-in-Chief): When I came to Early College, I wanted to be part of a newspaper/literary/magazine club. I wanted to share my thoughts, see what others wrote about, look at the doodles drawn in class and snapshots taken on a trip to Finland or on a particularly beautiful morning. I remember the skepticism that students had of a new club—of whether it would thrive or even last a year. I am glad we were able to defy the odds together and create truly precious memories— I’m so proud of our members and their amazing works. I will always be rooting for overload and wish the absolute best.
Drawings
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Photography
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ECG Social Life
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Oh Summer, My Summer
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Movie/Music Mania
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Sam Gibson (Vice President): The overload has been an integral part of my experience at ECG, from the frantic last minute editing sessions, to the immeasurable excitement choosing the color of the title page. It will be hard to say goodbye to our publication, that we've nursed carefully since its inception, but I am confident that the overload has a bright and promising future!
Samira Dahdah (Secretary): I remember the call I got from Haejin during Sophomore year proposing the idea of this club, and I remember the countless hours spent editing in the computer labs and libraries of Guilford, and I remember driving around asking businesses to buy advertisements in our magazine... but what I remember most is doing it together and having a wonderful and ridiculous time.
May Wang (Treasurer): Organize, discuss, submit, edit, edit, EDIT. overload hasn't been alive for a long time (only three years?) but it's gotten so far! I'm glad I was chosen to help found this club, and that I was able to contribute with what I could. Editing has been h***, but a really great and fun experience, with everyone pitching in to create something amazing. Having these deadlines chase after us (along with our wonderful president Haejin<3) has helped me, personally, with time-management and the like. Now we're all seniors and leaving the club in everyone else's hands. I hope this club will continue to stay strong! Everyone, stay OVERLOADED!
Inbox: Dear Natalie... Q: Help, I’m a sophomore. How do I handle the workload?
Q: I’m single on Valentine’s Day (again). What should I do?
A: Good question, simple solution - abandon sleep! Just kidding, sleep is important for your health. Write everything you need to do in a list so your frazzled brain can focus on getting what’s important done. Then you will feel accomplished when you cross tasks off your list as you complete objectives. This will spur you to keep being productive so everything gets done. If all else fails, just remember that caffeine is your friend. Your best friend.
A: It’s that time of year again! Valentine’s Day, a day exclusively for couples really just creates a Single’s Awareness Day for many. Fear not my Bachelor(ette) friend, why not just forget about Valentine’s Day and throw a Spring Semester party?
*The opinions expressed on this column are solely those of Natalie.
Q: I just love the Overload. Can I look at old editions online? A: Yes, this is shameless self-promoting - or rather, what I meant to type is - yes, you can check out our website at www.ecgjournalism.webs.com Thanks for asking!
Q: How should we choose our classes for junior year? A: First of all, congratulations on making it through the first two years of Early College. You can search for courses under “Course Schedule” under the “Academics” tab, on the Guilford College website. I would strongly encourage you to look at the past syllabi for these classes to get a feel for the professor’s teaching and the workload. Also, don’t drop a class too hastily. You might end up jumping from the pot to the fire. After talking to your advisor and considering the situation, you can drop and add a class w/out record in the first week. Good luck and, “May the odds ever be in your favor.”
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ECG news Early College takes 17th in the nation, according to Newsweek sam gibson
As per Newsweek’s annual America’s Best High School’s List, the Early College at Guilford was ranked 17th in the nation., nearly topping a list of 1,000 high schools. Newsweek compiles their rankings based on several criteria for evaluation, such as average test scores, percentage of college bound seniors, and graduation rates. With an average SAT score of 1930, ACT score of 29.5, Advanced Placement exam score of 4.3, and 100% of seniors planning to attend college, Early college earned a 1.77 on Newsweek’s scale, placing us above 983 other schools on the list. Coming in at number one, with a Newsweek score of 4.51 was the Gatton Academy of Mathematics and Science in Bowling Green Kentucky. Other relevant schools were the North Carolina School of Science and Math at 29th, Weaver Academy at 326th, Northern Guilford High School at 620th, Grimsley at 631st, and Northwest Guilford High School at 731st. US News and World Report listed the Early College as “Unranked” this year. We have ranked in their top 20 for the past three years. The School Profile of 2013, disseminated by the Early College, shows a marked improvement from Newsweek’s reported data. The Class of 2012 (therefore the current numbers) had an average SAT of 2080 (CR - 675, M - 719, W - 686), an average ACT of 31, and a 99% pass rate on AP exams. Other interesting numbers in the School Profile include the total amount of scholarship money earned last year, $16,487,303, with an average of $329,746 per student. This total placed us second only to Grimsley High School within Guilford County, and marks an approximately $7 million increase from the class of 2011. These numbers may very well better our standing for Newsweek’s 2013 List, and time will only tell how the Class of 2013 measures up to these numbers!
OVERLOAD WINS first PLACE WITH SPECIAL MERIT overload was awarded First Place with Special Merit (the highest award) by the American Scholastic Press Association. Congratulations to the Journalism Club staff!
Timeline of Upcoming Events Spring Break for Upperclassmen: March 18th through March 25th Guilford Model Congress: March 18th-19th Model UN Chapel Hill: March 22nd-24th Prom: April 13th Ice Cream Social: May 3rd AP Exams: May 6th-17th GC Exams: May 10th15th Graduation: May 24th
US&WORLD
news storm put thousands more people on the streets in a city where around 47,000 people are already vulnerably homeless. Then, just as things seemed they couldn’t get any worse, they did.
Photo Courtesy: CNBC
The Metropolis and the Mega-Storm Brent eisenbarth Shoulder-to-shoulder, a mass of exhausted travelers evicted by Hurricane Sandy waited to shuffle onto a bus, in hopes of salvaging some belongings from their former homes. Despite citizens’ complaints, the DOT and the city of Seaside Heights only allowed citizens to pack two boxes and two suitcases of their possessions to bring back. After ten days of being kept from their properties in the maritime town, the frustrated citizens simply wanted to return to their homes. This story parallels the stories of hundreds of communities and echoes the trails of over 50,000,000 people affected in the Northeast by Hurricane Sandy. Hurricane Sandy made landfall in New Jersey on October 26th, and according to NBC, caused upwards of $30 billion in damages and at least $50 billion in damages throughout the Northeast. Although the super storm was demoted to a tropical storm status before making landfall in New Jersey, Sandy still managed to launch a thirteen-foot storm surge at New York City. The monstrosity of this storm was remarkable; it stretched over 1,000 miles, and had winds of 79 mph at New York’s JFK airport, paralyzing a city home to eight million people. Physically, Sandy obstructed the subway with over 660 miles of flooded tracks, leaving millions without transportation, while financially; the city was brought to a financial standstill when Wall Street closed two days in a row. Although New York is a city of opportunity, businesses have struggled to get by with the entire tourism industry coming to a halt until the damage can be mitigated. Even streets as lively as Broadway feel uncharacteristically silent. Most devastatingly, the
After Sandy passed through, a snowstorm followed in its path, while thousands were homeless or without power. In New Jersey alone some 390,000 people were without power. This unfortunate snowstorm hit New Jersey especially hard, leading to a foot of snow in some parts. Even with religious groups and government associations assisting the homeless and displaced to find shelter, this natural disaster has been and will continue to be devastating for anyone unprotected from the elements and cold. Not unexpectedly, many have reported feeling increased camaraderie with their fellow sufferers. Regardless of the devastation, a sense of holiday hope and unity seemed to breathe new determination into the citizens as countless organizations worked together to provide much- needed relief.. Donations from around the world to organizations such as the Occupy Sandy movement, a spoof off of last year’s Occupy Wall Street protests, have spurred rebuilding. Though help is much needed, America can rest assured that New York’s fighting spirit that built America’s greatest metropolis is bringing people, organizations, and resources together to build a better future in the northeast.
Next Page U.S. Election 2012 Cataluña American Soccer
NEWS continued An Obama win or a Republican loss? Sam gibson After the contentious bravura of an election season, it is wise to begin reflecting back. It was a grueling election, with an overabundance of political rhetoric and a scarcity of genuine policy proposals. My favorite example of the election's general insipidness and maddeningly baseless discourse, happened in the second debate, where the two candidates circled each other in a bizarre standoff, each accusing the other of lying about oil permits on federal lands. Governor Romney repeatedly accused the President of cutting oil permits on federals lands in half during his tenure, to which the President somewhat cheekily responded "Not true, Governor Romney! Not true." The trend continued with such vague proposals as "eliminating tax loopholes" to counteract increased military spending and across-the-board tax cuts from the Romney camp, and "hiring more teachers" to solve the issues with public education from the Obama team. I will concede that neither he, nor his opponent, articulated a clear, principled vision for the US. Their failure to communicate a successful set of ideas manifested itself through a status-quo election where President Obama won reelection and the Republicans maintained control of the House. This election was not entirely devoid of interesting elements however, as we saw a few crucial precedents. A major party, and it's presidential nominee voiced support for same-sex marriage, which seemed to resonate with many voters and contributed to their victories. The Republican Party took a whopping 59% of the white vote while only carrying a measly 23% of the Latino vote, a historically conservative demographic. President Obama got high marks from the nation's women, while falling slightly short with college-educated white women. Lastly, with a towering 93% of the African- American vote, President Obama's decisive win was won to a great extent by minority voters, similar to 2008. If the Republicans want to be competitive on a national stage in 2016, I would advise them to broaden their appeal to minority and youth voters, and shy away from their more extreme right-wing Tea Party-ers and old guard.
el canviant món BRENT EISENBARTH Nestled in between France and Spain, at both the foot of the mountains and the shore of the ocean, Cataluna is a beautiful nation and more officially, an anonymous community in Spain. Having existed as a culture before Madrid was even founded, Catalonia’s distinct culture and language descended directly from Latin itself, with influences from its neighboring nations and cultures. Despite the odds with much larger nations surrounding and often ruling Catalonia, Catalonia has maintained its culture and language.. Now, with an estimated 57 cents for each euro of Catalan tax money being spent in other provinces in Spain, some Catalans think they would be better off without the “support” from Madrid. According to various polls, Catalan support for independence ranges from between 50 to 60%; the facts that Spanish unemployment is still near 20% and the national debt rivals Greece are not helping. Barcelona has existed under many different names under the reign of the Romans, Visigoths and the Crown of Aragon. Maybe now it is time that Barcelona was the capital of a new republic, the nation of Catalonia. Of course, there are two sides to this independence movement. Madrid feels that Catalonia keeps victimizing itself and believes the country will be stronger together. If Catalonia were to succeed, then there is no telling how the Basques or the Galatia might act. With massive debt and many sometimes quarreling cultures Catalonians succession could be a blow to Madrid’s power; although some argue that Spain needs to decentralize more either way. It is certain that succession would hurt businesses on both sides of the border, as proven in the Velvet Divorce of Czechoslovakia in 1992 into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Many Spaniards have declared they would boycott Catalonianmade products, and some businesses such as a Spanish publishing company have threatened that they would leave Barcelona, claiming they couldn't be a Spanish publisher in a foreign country. Most likely, Catalonia would have to reenter the EU. This would harm European trade. Spanish and Catalan politicians have long debated this issue, but it has now come to the surface. The people are demanding that the “Catalonian Question” must be decided. On Sept. 11, 2011, 1.5 million people, about a fifth of the nation, marched in Barcelona demanding independence. Will another nation soon join the international community or will Madrid and Barcelona strengthen relations and find strength in unity?
The Cinderella story of American soccer
leah asmelash
What comes to mind when you hear the word ‘soccer’? Is it big, flashy stadiums, filled to the max? Pickup games on the street with your friends? A sport you played for a few years when you were younger? Did you ever think soccer could be a career? A source of national pride? A mission, even? For a group of Americans in the nineties, soccer was exactly that: a mission. The USA hadn’t qualified for the World Cup since 1950, about four decades before, and this perseverant team had made it their goal to break that dry spell. They were determined to make it to the upcoming 1990 World Cup, no matter how high the odds. Now, let’s back up. At this time, the US was not an enthusiastic soccer country by any means. The matches were rarely, if ever, broadcasted on television, and few were even aware that a USA National Team even existed. And why would they, when they had popular sports such as football, basketball, and baseball filling their TVs? However, this young group of Americans were unyielding in their goal to not only qualify for the upcoming World Cup, but also to increase the popularity of the sport on the home front. The obstacles were everywhere. First of all, where do you get the money to fund a national team? The resources? Heck, even match experience was difficult to obtain for these players, as they found themselves scrimmaging against college teams and really whoever they could find, all in preparation for the upcoming qualifying matches. The players couldn’t even be guaranteed any real type of pay, forcing some to take on day jobs and leave training to be completed at night. Yet, somehow, the group managed to qualify for the 1990 World Cup, what many would have called impossible. In a hard-fought match against Trinidad and Tobago, the US pushed through to win it 1-0. Though this match may seem insignificant, it was truly a great moment in US Soccer history. They were through to the World Cup for the first time in decades, and, though they couldn’t muster up a point in Italy the next year, the fact that they had qualified in the first place was enough. Suddenly, people had expectations for the team, and heads turned. They had successfully put soccer on the radar of the country, and it was a step in the right direction. Now, we fast forward through the 1994 World Cup and move eight years ahead to 2002. By this time, the original players who’d jumpstarted the dormant national team were either retired or close to that point, but a new generation had begun. The 2002 World Cup was a huge success for the Yankees, who made it all the way to the quarterfinals of the competition, where they lost to Germany, the eventual runner-ups (Brazil becoming the champion). This marked another major turning point in American soccer, as they’d finished last in the group stage of the previous World Cup, held in France. The quarterfinal result was the furthest they’d placed since 1930, where they’d won third. The US was finally considered a major force in soccer, that is, until the disaster of 2006. The US Men’s National Team went into the next 2006 World Cup with high hopes. They were eager to finish even further than they had in 2002, possibly even going all the way to the final. Certainly, the country had high hopes as well. Unfortunately, the US placed last in their group that year and only scored one goal throughout the entire competition. The 2006 tournament is one best erased from memory.
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The major climax so far of US Soccer is the 2010 World Cup, held in South Africa. In order to understand why this particular tournament is one of the most important, we must travel back in time to a year earlier, the 2009 Confederation’s Cup. Here, the US made it to its first final in a FIFA tournament. To do so, they had to beat Spain in the semifinals, who sat comfortably atop the soccer world, ranked number one. This was not an easy task for obvious reasons, but the US squeezed out an important victory, winning 2-0. Let me say that again: The USA managed to beat the best team in soccer. If that is not a sure sign of how far they’d come since the nineties, then I don’t know what is. After the spectacular semifinal upset, the US met Brazil in the final, where they were winning 2-0 at the half, only to lose 3-2 by the final whistle. Despite the devastating loss, the USA felt proud of their accomplishments thus far and went into the 2010 World Cup with confidence. In South Africa, the USA still did not manage to perform up to par with their previous matches, but the tournament proved exciting nonetheless. The highlight came during the group stage, where Landon Donovan saved the Yanks with a last minute goal in stoppage time against Algeria, which propelled the US to the top of the group and into the next round. To truly understand the importance of this goal, you must first realize that, had the team lost, they would’ve been out of the tournament during the group stage, a disappointing result after their achievements of the previous year. To win that match meant to obtain a second chance; a second chance at glory and a second chance to possibly win it all. And to have the goal scored at the last possible moment, when most fans had given up hope, only made the moment more powerful. To this day, many USA fans look to that goal as one of the most important in US Soccer history. Though the team lost in the round of 16 to Ghana, the same country which had eliminated them in 2006, the last minute Algeria goal lives on as a permanent reminder to fans to never stop fighting for what they believe in. The 2010 World Cup, though not successful for the team on paper, definitely launched the team to national attention. A hoard of new fans stormed in, increasing TV ratings and the popularity of the sport in general. Along with attention, the US National Team has also recently experienced an increase in performance. Though the playing level is still not as high as it could be, recent victories over soccer giants Italy and an historic first time ever win against Mexico in Mexico confirm how far the US has come. Looking back to the nineties, to that small group of Americans who began with only a mission, would you say they succeeded? The rags-to-riches story of US Soccer only proves how, with enough willpower and strength, you can truly do anything you set your mind to.
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Land of misfit memories
Sydney lockhart
Broken toys Line the bedroom wall And a red wagon waits silently by the front door. Rain boots are aligned perfectly by the window A preparation for a storm of tears In case the urge to jump into puddles arises. Soil tracks through the house Leading from one door to the other A trail with every footprint holding a story. Stuffed bears beg to be sewn back together But lack of skill leaves their fluff exposed. Cookie jars are left open on the countertop Crumbs left scattered and calling for ants The scent still lingering in the air. Balloons spiral into the open air As slick hands let them slip free Accidently setting one thousand balloons spinning into the sky And one thousand upturned faces imagine them touching the moon. And no one can enter this secret haven of long forgotten dreams Of memories that hold tight to the edges of hearts Mingling with thought. If you listen hard enough You can hear the pitter-pattering of tiny feet Against hardwood floors And the peals of laughter from outside As imagination spills across the grass like paint Leaving multicolored splatters across the yard.
Drawings done by May Wang
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Dear stranger
Erica perine
How? I just wondered because…well, I went insane one time. I admit this with no insecurities. Seven months ago, a photo found its way to me…maybe by way of the breeze? I’m clueless. It contained a face and some meaningless babble scribbled at the bottom. I wondered who this person might be. I attended many, many concerts in the ensuing months. None particularly inspired me. One singer… as netizens put it these days, “I can’t”. His voice was funny. After that concert I decided I would cut the crap…but then one small failure after another…and… Physical selves, hearts and souls, vocal chords and viola strings, all hopelessly tangled. And all wrong. All strange. But every night I slept with that elusive photograph under my pillow. We were once and forever in each other’s clutches, each trying unsuccessfully to claw his and her way out. You cried. You cried a lot. I roared like a dragon. My frustration was strong. Gradually the universe faded before me. And then I moved in for the final blow. There he was, cowering, and I did him some real damage. I wonder: Why do you even want anything? You only enhance the inevitability of failure. I humbly request that you write me back by midnight, assuming we both understand the conditions under which I continue to contact you. You are mine always, Erica.
piano recital
Kathlyne bautista
Trembling fingers and feeble legs, I walk on stage, all eyes on me. I feel their stares; I hear their whispers. This fear and anxiety, will they see? In front of the piano, I take my seat. Surely, I couldn't back out now. Absolute silence fills the auditorium, "It's time," I whisper to myself. Eyes closed and long deep breaths, I place my hands over the ivory keys. My doubts and worries all disappear, Thinking nothing else but the music.
One by one, the notes flow out, Each so powerful, so carefully played. My whole soul, I poured into the music; One would say, I truly gave it my all. Like the end of a storm, the song fades, The last note still lingering in the air. Applause and praise, then, fills the room, And pride and joy swells up in me.
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For aunt reedy
samira dahdah
Fifteen and a half inches lighter, I began to feel ostracized. I had just shaven off the treasured, long and wavy brown hair that had defined my appearance for so many years. A shaved head meant experiencing social situations differently; no more catcalls from foolish boys so concerned with image, and no more interactions based solely on others’ interest in my appearance. Though I had preached the importance of not concerning yourself with materialistic and carnal qualities, never had I truly experienced the expulsion that comes with shirking society’s norms. The typical harshness of this experience was diluted by the cause of my new ‘do’: a bald head to match my dear Aunt Reedy’s, a result of chemotherapy for a rare and aggressive cancer. Though I appreciated the praise I received for my “boldness” and “kind-heartedness,” I still initially felt the shock and exclusion caused by my actions. Immediately following the fresh haircut, I ventured into a world previously unknown. School and other places of comfort were now breeding grounds for feelings of insecurity and regret. As one of my best friends first witnessed my new hair, his jaw dropped as he stood silently stunned. My cheeks burned as I became fully aware of the emphasis society places on hair and outward appearance. Though everyone seemed very supportive of its cause, I could see the judgment in their eyes and could similarly feel my insecurity stinging. In the midst of regretting my decision, I walked into Hospice Room #2 and met a crowd of smiles. My family sighed with relief at the fact that we were still trying, not giving in to the doctor’s words of finality. Everyone left the room as I quietly, but excitedly, approached Reedy’s bed. I tapped her shoulder, waking her from the irritated sleep that had become the epitome of her existence. Knowingly, she smiled a smile that I hadn’t seen for at least four days, a very long time in critical situations such as these. She whispered a few words in my ear that immediately brought me to tears, “Samira, I love you.” I told Aunt Reedy I loved her always, kissed her bald head, and walked out of the room triumphantly. All that had triggered regret and insecurity within me was now vindicated. My hair connected me to my precious aunt, and was now something I beamed with pride about. No longer would I walk in a room aware of all the stares, instead I would embrace them and recall the simple, but extraordinarily treasured, words of Aunt Reedy. Though Aunt Reedy passed a few days following my newly shaven head, she passed knowing she was surrounded by unconditional love and by people who would risk anything for her. I am truly blessed to have been able to sacrifice something of my being for her, regardless of the societal standards of beauty I had to recognize and defeat to get there.
human I am not like you I do not seek out ways to push people to war I do not waste the lives of others on petty things I do not feast on the smell of battle And the whispers of soldiersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; last regrets. I do not smile behind the wheel of a car I think about the fumes that found their way into the air And the people that have died because of silly distractions And the car crashes by the swerving world of alcohol And the smell of burning rubber on concrete. I do not have mountains I have hills But that is much better than being pumped full of silicon And having make up smeared on my face And buying expensive but stylish shoes And pinning men under my thumb to pay for my expenses. I do not have much money But millionaires do And they go to exclusive parties And have nice houses And buy nice items And get divorced several times And lose all their money to drugs And get high to melt the pain away. I do not watch things happen I get involved I do not wait until people are dead before I call the police I feel sickened by the murders that are covered for a minute on the news And by the people who do not even care that they happened. I am not indifferent I treasure my life for its value I search for others who will join me And create a better way to live And enjoy life for its sacredness And have enough strength to protect it. I am not like you Because I am human.
Sydney lockhart
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marina
Amanda ingman Marina loves the color blue and carries smooth ocean tossed pebbles in her pockets gifting them from worn, warm, creased hands into young, sticky, reaching ones
children would do anything in exchange for an embrace that is tender and linen, cool and comforting despite her lean, sharp lines and angles she loves lavender from Provence, red wine and Gruyère. Her sharp cerulean eyes, flecked with gold, tell stories over the steam of black morning coffee sometimes, forgotten songs sing themselves through her at fitting moments she’s quick to smile conspiringly at grandchildren, gifting licorice pipes so they can pretend to be rugged sailors whose sailboats glide back to the Marina
Luke
haejin song
Before the sun crept up, Luke awoke from the chirps of the blue jays and his unforgiving alarm clock. He looked for a crisp linen shirt his mom recently ironed and quickly threw an argyle wool vest over himself. He tried to stuff his shirt into his plaid pants while trying to find his lucky belt he always wore. Grabbing a comb, he slicked his blonde hair sideways and gave a good, hard look in the mirror. Not yet an adult, however jagged lines made its way across his forehead; the troubled boy’s challenges and obstacles he once faced made its mark ingrained into his furrows. Luke shut the rickety screen door behind himself and made his way across the freshly cut grass, taking in the light scent of dews and pine trees. Hauling his dad’s overused and battered golf bag, he propped it against a sturdy sycamore tree and took out a club. He took his stance, firmly set his feet onto the soft grounds, and swung the large club back and forth until it became second nature to him. Shortly afterwards from a distance, Luke managed to see the approaching players; he knew that the time had arrived. Beads of sweat slowly rolled down his face as he tried to maintain his composure but his heart would not let him; he could continuously hear the thud of his heart as it pounded uncontrollably. His fingers turned pale white as he gripped onto his club with force and apprehension. He took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes. To his appeasement, all the players, their caddies, and audience slowly disappeared from his panorama; it was only him and the great game.
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A conscious miracle
Jordan richmond
I was thirty-six when I adjusted my perspective on life. Every day up until then I found myself wondering why I was disposed to wake to the impregnable beauty of the world, only to discover its deceitful nature upon the last drop of sunshine. At that point in time, the world was a gruesome place to me, molded by the tersely sinful hands of human behavior. With each day bounded innumerable throngs of wicked degenerates, thought of as the righteous rulers of the Earth. Today, however, I feel entirely different. Without reservation, I can attribute this deviation in my thought rationale to a petite, red-haired child I met five years ago. Little Jeannette. She provided evidence for an opposing assertion, in which, to a discernible degree, I can believe a few human beings display superfluous amounts of merit and virtue. This fact alone has allowed me to cherish our encounter so very dearly to my heart. * * * * In accordance with the obligations of the American middle-class working force, I coaxed myself into driving to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts before proceeding to work. Dutifully, I purchased a medium-sized cup of their Hazelnut blend, properly thanking the woman at the window with apathetic wishes for a Merry Christmas, as it was December 22nd. Speeding down the interstate comfortably, I ventured for the familiar taste of Water, Propylene Glycol, and Glycerin as I lifted the Styrofoam cup to my lips, but found instead a hint of vanilla. Cursing aloud in disgust, I nearly slammed the cup back into the cup holder, the result of which I came to regret. Dismissing the consequences of abusing a full cup of hot coffee from my mind, I suddenly felt the harsh sting of the black liquid embrace the bare skin of my face, wrists, and neck. Following my stupidity in spilling the coffee emanated my stupidity in letting go of the wheel to assess my well-being. As soon I looked down at my suit to judge the severity of the spill, the whole car pulled to the right, off the road, and into a speed limit sign. Immediately, my head went to and fro, a blur of the forested area and interstate about me. Then, in no more than a moment, my thoughts debilitated, my vision transformed into a sea of black, and I transgressed into a state of unconsciousness. *
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Crouched behind the slender frame of his mother’s rocking chair, the sickly boy in Room 8A of Dennison’s Apartments in downtown Chicago could peer into his parents’ bathroom without being seen. In merely glancing into the bathroom, the boy became entranced in the scene unfolding. “Oh God, Henry! No! Not again! No! Please—” a woman yelled in a strangled, half-whisper. She sat against the vanity mirror, fingering her blackened face. Contusions swelled her face to a flush of crimson and black as the man, Henry, struck repeatedly at her head. In an instant her nose bent this way and that, contorted at different angles, while blood coursed thick from the gash above her right temple. Abruptly, her silent cries condensed into a series of whimpers, emulating the depreciation of the woman’s pain threshold. Henry, satisfied with his work, contended, “This, Gloria, is the price you must pay for your insolence. How dare you disrespect my husbandry and the rights I have to you, woman! When I have given you food and a home… and love! “You have condemned my name! You alone are responsible for your pain! And so help me God, I will not help you in this life or after—I have been nothing but a loving husband!” Finishing his tirade, he
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stormed out of the room, carefully noting his son’s presence as he approached the door out of the apartment. Sighing, Henry scooped the pallid-faced boy into his arms, and exited through the apartment door. Upon reaching his 1970 red Chevrolet Monte Carlo outside the apartment complex, Henry, conducting himself in a paternal manner, explained to his son, “God wanted me to do that to that woman so you and I could live happy lives, Nicholas. She is not your mother, and she never will be. She has hurt me and you. Do you understand?” Nicholas, comprehending the ordeal as a fantasy of his imagination, nodded solemnly, expecting firebreathing dragons to materialize in the parking lot at any moment. After his father drove the pair to an ABC store, purchasing a bottle of “chocolate milk for old people,” and then checked them into the Motel 6 on the outskirts of Chicago, he realized that this was not a fantasy or a figment of his imagination. Climbing under the woolen sheets of the bed, a musty aroma dominating the air, Nicholas shed one tear, knowing for a fact that his parents were bad people. *
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“Mr. Conner?” a deafening voice called out, distinctively louder than those of my dreams. Grasping onto the sound, I hauled myself back into reality, awakening before a stout woman poised to hear my response. Fairly audible, I answered, “That’s me.” A sharp pain then wrought havoc on my head. “My goodness! You certainly aren’t coping like we thought you would!” she exclaimed in a thick Minnesotan accent, her charcoal-colored hair bouncing about her plump cheeks. The color suddenly reminded me of my mother’s eyes, blackened by my father’s fists and her formidable lust. After she procured her stethoscope, the woman pressed it upon my chest, gradually recording notes on her clipboard. It was at this moment that I considered my situation. Surrounding me was the unmistakable familiarity of a hospital room, with the soft murmur of voices abounding beyond the door. The woman before me was obviously a nurse, observing my vitals. But why? And why was my head throbbing so vigorously? Perceiving the name badge on her uniform, I asked, “Nurse Aldridge? Why am I in the hospital?” Giving me a faint smile, though sullied with slight worry, she replied, “You were in a car accident, Mr. Conner. The paramedics responded to the OnStar alert from your car.” She paused, letting this sink in before she continued. “Fortunately, there weren’t any major injuries. Just got a small concussion. You should be out of here in the next two days after we run a few tests.” Exhaling in relief, I lifted my legs, finding happy resolve in my success. Knowing my past luck, I had expected the burden of permanent paralysis, an eternal inability that would capture the essence of my life. Nurse Aldridge stood comfortably, studying my relief, and then approached my bedside, bearing a silver platter of IVs and needles. My breathing instantly hastened. “Don’t worry Mr. Conner, only one of them is for you. Really, we just have this many out to see the reactions of our patients,” she reassured. Mirth spread across her face, she remarked, “To be honest, I didn’t expect a grown man like you to be afraid of a little needle.” Honestly, I didn’t expect to act this way either, and yet, I could feel the embittered relations between myself and that needle. For some reason, the dexterity of my fear stretched across all aspects of my mind, consuming my attention and— “All done! Now, how you do feel?” Nurse Aldridge inquired. Realizing that she had finished administering the medication, my thoughts ceded, and I focused my attention (or lack thereof) on responding. “I feel…” I droned before falling into the obscurity of my dreams.
TO BE CONTINUED (in next issue)
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Saidivya Komma Erin Egan
May Wang Erica Perine
Cardinal Do
Saidivya Komma Saidivya Komma
Ki n s e y Da v i s
La h a ri R e v u ri
Da v i s R a n s on
Da v i s R a n s on
Da v i s R a n s on
Da v i s R a n s on
Ki n s e y Da v i s
Social life
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Oh Summer, Over the summer, my grandparents, took the entire family on a cruise to Bermuda, for their 50th anniversary. We visited one of the beaches, and my cousin and I ran in with our clothes on. We also toured the caverns, watched a historical reenactment of a woman getting dunked in the river, went helmet-diving in one of the reefs, and explored a lot on the ship during the voyage. After that, we went up to our lake house at Oneida Lake, in New York, and jet-skied, swam, and speed-boated around the lake for a week - right after spending a day in NYC.
"O.S.M.S" Bermuda & New York
Kinsey Danzis
Over the summer, I went on two significant vacations with my family. In June, I traveled to Toronto, Canada, to see the Philadelphia Phillies play the only unAmerican team in the MLB, the Toronto Blue Jays. We journeyed so far just to see a game, because one of my family's goals is to attend a game at every MLB stadium. Besides watching the Blue Jays trump the Phillies, we saw the best view of the city from the very top of the CN tower; toured one of the most extravagant mansions still standing, Casa Loma; watched polar bears swim in 90 degree weather at the city zoo; and viewed many exhibits at the science center. Toronto is a beautiful and diverse city that I enjoyed vacationing in. In late July, I flew to Yellowstone for a family reunion with my paternal relatives. We hiked on mountain hills, gazed at waterfalls, felt the steam of hot springs, and Toronto! witnessed Old Faithful erupting several times. I enjoyed all the time with family, laughing over jokes, and reminiscing about previous reunions. Overall, my two big vacations were tons of fun and filled with memories and jokes.
Luke Strobel
My Summer ! Travels
Oh Summer, my Summer, Apparently, the cutest dogs are Greek. I wanted to take him home, but my father didn't think he'd make it through US Border Patrol.
Amanda Ingman
This year, we had an abundance of wild blueberries. People pick these by the gallon despite vicious mosquito attacks and sudden rains. Note the heavy jacket and rainboots. I biked through Copenhagen with my friend Sandra. Everyone rides bicycles there: to work, to run errands, to hang out... I wonder how people get their bikes disentangled from this mess? The Finnish archipelago is splendid. Finally, I think my baby sister Andrea embodies how I feel about summer. She was armed with a camera and took pictures of every single meal we ate. In addition, she rarely took a "normal" photo: in every single picture of her, she is bursting with the infectious emotion she was feeling at that moment. Shouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t we all act like that?
Photo Credits:
Alexandera Ingman
movie mania TOP MOVIES OF 2012 Les Miserables Marvelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Avengers The Dark Knight Rises The Hunger Games Skyfall The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 The Amazing Spider-Man Brave Ted Lincoln Snow White & the Huntsman
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music mania TOP SONGS OF 2012 Gangnam Style– PSY Most watched YouTube video, surpassing Justin Bieber’s “Baby”
Call Me Maybe– Carly Rae Jepson We Are Young– fun. Somebody That I Used to Know-Gotye ft. Kimbra Starships— Nicki Minaj We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together- Taylor Swift Glad You Came— The Wanted Lights— Ellie Goulding Payphone— Maroon 5 ft. Wiz Khalifa What Makes You Beautiful— One Direction Try— P!nk One Direction
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Ecg journalism staff
Into the future... Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?
Lana Abutabanja Married to a hot guy from Spain living in Barcelona.
Erica Perine
Haejin Song: Founder, Editor-in-Chief Striding the streets of Seoul or NYC, with a cup of Starbucks in one hand and with purpose in another.
Samira Dahdah: Secretary
In Japan—on my honeymoon~ (JK.)
Hopefully with a purpose.
Davis Ranson
Brent Eisenbarth
I’ll be living in Germany as a baker with a big dog. I will not have kids, and I’ll have been in the navy, as a head chef.
As a writer, hopefully able to travel the world.
Mollie Sewell
Amanda Ingman
Working in the medical field, most likely as a pediatrician. Hopefully, I am content with my life choices and still as healthy as I am now.
Rubbing elbows with the elite.
May Wang: Treasurer
Architect at a wildly successful I see myself as a doctor— international firm. Rock violist saving lives and being fabulous. in a YouTube-famous garage band.
Saidivya Komma
Sam Gibson: Vice President
I’ll drift back to Scandinavia somehow and work on EU immigration policy & assimilation of ethnic groups. I’ll take a side job as a culinary guide in Helsinki and partake in excessive coffee drinking and ice cream eating.
Luke Strobel Beginning phases of my career in a big city like Charlotte. I see myself being recently married and spending lots of time with family and friends. Catherine Machanic I see myself somewhere far away, but I have no idea what I will be doing. Something interesting...
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VOLUME 3, ISSUE 1
23
Jordan Richmond
Akosua Bekoe
Lahari Revuri
Sideline reporter for ESPN, delivering breaking news and injury reports. Or perhaps, conducting personal interviews with major sports stars for editorials and blogs for major sports magazines such as Sports Illustrated or ESPN: The Magazine.
In a medical residency that’ll prepare me for my profession as an oncologist. I see myself as a woman, and like wine & wisdom, I’ll only get better with time. I see myself as an adult with a child-like spirit, ever ready to have fun, eat ice cream and laugh. I see myself reminiscing on past pleasures, yet eager & hopeful for the future. I see myself as a woman of strength and character, prepared to take on life’s joys and sorrows.
I see myself 24 years old. Actually, I also see something else in my little crystal ball. Although I do not know exactly where I will be or what I’ll be doing… Ten years from now, I see myself as one of the few who truly consider themselves successful.
Kinsey Danzis As a writer or animator, or maybe someone involved in law enforcement. Either that, or in a mirror. I see myself in a mirror.
Madison Price
An oncologist intern at a hospital.
Completing Pharmacy School & graduating with my PharmD. I also hope to travel with my future boyfriend/ husband and experience the various cultures of the world.
Erin Egan
Yeonsu Shin
Alexa Fourqurean
Architect in Australia
A dancer in New York
I see myself on the internet.
Sara Stewart
Kathlyne Bautista
Leah Asmelash
Surrounded by all my millions.
I see myself beginning a career that I’m passionate about and absolutely love doing.
Happy
dreams
e p o h
Cardinal Do
Yasmine Byungura Med School
goals
futur e
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