Eyrie 2020

The Eyrie A Literary/Trades Journal

2020

Eastern Maine Community College

The Eyrie 2020

The Eyrie is a literary/trades journal published by Eastern Maine Community College to showcase student work. The issue highlights exceptional writers and artists from across the campus.

Faculty Advisors Heather Magee, Dr. Lesley Gillis Cover Design Cassie Thompson Page Design Kierstin Hand Page Layout/Design Lauren Chapman Kierstin Hand Brandon Pelletier Tyler Parrish DGD231 Printing and Publishing

Š All work in this journal remain the sole property of their owner and may not be reprinted without permission.

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TABLE OF

Anatomy & Physiology

Ode to Tissues, By Naomi Freedberg............................................ 6 Rap about Bones of the Skeleton, By Aquiles Lopez...................... 7 Rhymes with Enzymes, By Alexandra Zaro.................................. 11

College Comp

Discussion Post, By Andrea Young............................................... 14 The People We Meet In Restaurants, By Amy Goodson............... 15 The 3 Best Meals I Have Ever Had, By Felicia Stanhope ............. 20

Creative Non-Fiction

Seventeen, By Jordan Potter....................................................... 24 Are You Full? By Emily Boutin..................................................... 41

Creative Writing

Magical Realism, By Tyler Capone Dubois.................................. 50

Intro to Film

Reflection Paper: Within Our Gates, By Jodie Shank................... 58

Intro to Literature

Discussion Post: Is Millay the ‘Lonely Tree’ in Winter (line 9),

By Emily Penner.......................................................................... 62 Little Man & If the Search for Identity is Not a Competition, Who Wins? By Ralph Atwater..................................................... 64

Principles of Biology

Benefits of Agricultural Biodiversity for Farmers and Surrounding Ecosystems, By Nicholas Hershbine............................................ 76

Welding

Organizational Factor, By Nick Scott........................................... 84

Table of Contents

2D ART

CONTENTS

Untitled, By Lauren Chapman..................................................... 88 What could’ve been, By Seth Gibbs............................................ 89 Untitled, By Michaela Qualey..................................................... 90 Potential, By Tristen AB Walkes................................................... 91

Culinary/Industrial Photography

Brandon Pelletier........................................................................ 94 Kassidy Brown............................................................................ 95 Collin Roberts............................................................................. 96 Angela Patterson......................................................................... 97 Collin Roberts............................................................................. 98 JP Moors..................................................................................... 99 Kassidy Brown.......................................................................... 100

Computer Science

CST Students Build R2D2, By Calvin Andrews & Desiray Howes.102

Intro to Illustration

Decay, By Brandon Pelletier...................................................... 106

Photography

Contrast In The Harbor, By Tyler Parrish.................................... 108 Pantry, By Brandon Pelletier...................................................... 109 Larger Aperature 3.5, By Lauren Chapman................................ 110 Caution, By Destinee Duprey................................................... 111 Afternoon Rocket, By Kierstin Hand......................................... 112

Photoshop

Poster, By Trung Ho.................................................................. 114 Adding color to a black and white photo, By Destinee Duprey.115 Biographical Image, By Michaela Qualey.................................. 116 The Final Project, By Cassie Thompson..................................... 117 Project 02, By Cassie Thompson............................................... 118 Project 06, By Cassie Thompson............................................... 119 Revealed Nature, By Tristen AB Walkes..................................... 120

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ANATOMY & PHISIOLOGY

ANATOMY & PHISIOLOGY

ANATOMY & PHISIOLOGY

Ode to Tissues

By Naomi Freedberg

Song to Explain Course Concepts

To the tune of: ”Oh My Darlin, Clementine”

In your body, in your organs live some tissues made from cells, Some with extracellular matrix, some with fibers and organelles.

Epithelial and Connective, Muscle, Nervous number four, Now let’s delve into the details so you’ll know what each one’s for.

Epithelial is our covering and it lines our cavities, Can be squamous or cuboidal or columnar, if you please.

Lots of nerves so we can feel pain, they can even form a gland, With an apical and a basal, in the ureter of a man.

Now Connective, it’s all over and the most abundant kind, If you want your bones together, dense regular will make a bind.

Adipose is insulation and a source of energy, It’s supportive and protective and for the ladies, mammary.

Still to come is areolar, cartilage and bones and blood, All Connective came from one source, mesenchymal from embryohood.

Let’s move on to Muscle tissue, skeletal and cardiac, Or the smooth that pushes food stuffs through your long digestive tract.

Last but not least is the Nervous where the neurons communicate, From the dendrite to cell body to the axon messages gravitate.

Fellow classmates, do remember all the tissues we learned today, For this jingle I am hoping our dear Amy gives me an “A”!

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Rap about Bones of the Skeleton

By Aquiles Lopez

Let’s start with our skull, where most bones are flat: Frontal, Parietal, and Occipital in the back.

All joined by sutures.

All fused in the future.

Temporal to the side, what you hold when you sigh, when you think about the bones around your face and your eyes.

Zygomatic, Sphenoid, Lacrimal, Mandibular, nothing sounds familiar, because anatomy is particular Latin over vernacular.

Gatekeeping we can’t avoid.

It’s part of the routine Don’t be annoyed.

Some bones are better felt than seen.

They aren’t in the void.

Medial to the Mastoid are the Vomer and Ethmoid.

Each one partial in splitting up the nostrils.

This makes it possible to stop germs that are hostile.

The Vomer is like a missile, and the Ethmoid is novel with Nasal Conchae spirals.

Up front and central, what we hold to stop a sneeze, we find the nasal bone sitting with ease,

Anatomy & Physiology

as it supports the bridge of our nose, while we breath, obscene aromas from gangrene to kerosene.

Just behind this scene of mucus and hygiene, is the roof of your mouth: the Maxilla and Palatine.

You know, the tough stuff, behind the rough bumps, when foodstuffs gets stuck behind your teeth.

Chew on that while I take you back to the back of the head, where Occipital Bones and the Atlas are said to slide in style.

Thanks to the condyles.

Sure, you can nod your head but when you need to say no, you need the Axis instead.

All part in parcel of the cervical start to the vertical stack of bones called vertebrae.

The heart shape body of the thoracic is romantic.

Costal match maker bound to lateral facets, but if you get a fracture there the results can be tragic.

Paraplegic nightmares of pain numbness and wheelchairs but im not scared since to survive is to roll the dice and life is never fair.

Death is never far, and neither is the Lumbar.

You know the bones at the bottom of the back just above your crack, when you get home to relax, and support seems to lack, sitting hunch-backed, hours pass, you lose track then stand up to hear cracks.

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What was that?

I start feeling my backside like a maniac.

Was that my Lumbar, Sacrum, or Sacroilliac?

Or was it my Coccyx or Or Coxae?

So many bones and we’re not even half way.

So far it’s all been Axial Bones, protection hard as stone, in the zone that vital organs grow.

I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something though, Oh I know, the knees and the elbow.

The bones when you tip toe.

The ones filled with marrow, long rigid and narrow.

Appendicular time, let’s go!

Around your thighs and deeper is the bone called the Femur.

It’s large and ready, whether you are heavy or leaner it helps to hold you steady.

Walking upright, evolutionary birthright from daytime to midnight.

At the distal end you find tendons and ligaments holding tight keeping up the fight against tension from flexion, extension, contraction, distention.

Next I should mention: the Tibia and Fibia connect to the Tarsals.

Big bony marbles join up with meta tarsals So what’s next, the Pedal Phylangeas?

Oh good I am almost done with these.

Anatomy & Physiology

But! Before I go, I got one more hurdle, around the Pectoral Girdle, a Scapular portal for the Humerus encircled with bursae and ligaments.

It’s the same predicament pelvic structure is almost equivalent.

Ulnar and Radial attachments connect to Carpal fragments followed by Phylangeal elements.

Well ladies and gentlemen this is the end good luck with your finals have a good weekend.

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Rhymes with Enzymes

By Alexandra Zaro

Hi, my name is Transferase.

What parents will name you these days!

As you’ve guessed, I’m an enzyme, And if you give me a moment of your time, I’ll help you with that pesky enemy, Activation energy.

As a group we regulate And affect reaction rate.

We get slow in the cold and fast in the heat, And a pH of 6 to 8 can’t be beat!

But in the event of saturation, Eventually, there’ll be a plateau of production Try not to be envy green Just because I’m a globular protein.

I’m a biological catalyst.

Well, you get the gist.

I sometimes get a helping hand From a friendly cofactor, and We sometimes work as a group In a pathway or multienzyme troop.

Call my friend DNA Polymerase If you find yourself in S Interphase.

But if you’re trying to build something up Ring Ligase and say, “sup?”

If you’re on your way to do some water bond breaking, Then it’s Hydrolase you should be taking.

Well, that’s the end of my rhyme.

Please vote “3” for this enzyme!

Anatomy & Physiology

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COLLEGE COMP

COLLEGE COMP.

COLLEGE COMP.

Discussion Post

By Andrea Young

I have heard more and more about farm-to-table and communitysupported agriculture in the last few years. What I had not heard about or been aware of before reading Dan Barber’s “What Farm-to-Table Got Wrong” is the work farmers put in to produce the very best harvest. I knew farming was hard work, but what I didn’t understand was the importance of the soil. Klaas of Lakeview Organic Grain Farm explains how the rotation of the crops has an impact on the quality of the soil. The quality of the soil impacts the flavor of the crops. He plants his crop rotations based on what the soil is telling him. Legumes and clover help with nitrogen, and mustard plants aid in pest and disease control. What was also surprising was that most of Klaas’ harvest fed his livestock and not sold for human consumption. After Barber spent some time with Klaas, he realized the potential of incorporating the “uncelebrated crops staples in ordinary kitchens.” Barber states, “Diversifying our diet to include more local grains and legumes is a delicious first step to improving our food system” (402). Farmers, chefs, and we, as consumers, can work together to support the farm-to-table movement. Shop your local farmer’s markets, dine at the restaurants that incorporate harvests from local farms. There is a local farm that recently started a farmer’s market. The farmer talks about his crops, shares pictures, and offers recipes. It has been exciting to shop at the market and see how it has grown. I hope to see farm-to-table gets things right.

Barber, Dan. “What Farm-to-Table Got Wrong.” The Norton Reader: An Anthology of Nonfiction, edited by Melissa A. Goldthwaite et al., 14th ed., W.W. Norton, 2017, pp. 400-03.

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The People We Meet In Restaurants

By Amy Goodson

Essay—Inspired by “Working at Wendy’s”

by Joey Franklin

We find some interesting characters working in restaurants, and one thing’s for sure, if we’ve worked in one restaurant, we’ve worked in them all. How’s that? We’re all a little eccentric, some of us are on substances, and some of us are just pissed off at the world. Let’s go back to when I was hired at my first restaurant job, Bob Evans, and see who we meet. I worked at Bob Evans for almost five years, and it’s been another fifteen since then, so I have forgotten some names, but, for a time, they were my family.

Now, as I said, we’re all a bit eccentric here, which brings me to my first encounter in a restaurant as a prospective employee.

There I was, a fresh young soon-to-be 18-year-old and recent high school graduate, looking for my first real job. There was a new restaurant in town, Bob Evans, which had only been open a few months. I was pretty sure I knew a few people who worked there. My memory isn’t the greatest, but I’d assume I got a ride from one of my parents to apply for the job, and what happened next, I’ll never forget. I received a phone call from one of the managers, Cindy. She asked me three questions: How old was I? Was I still in school? And, when could I start? Well, we already know I was 17, and had recently graduated. I was also ready to begin immediately. The next day, I reported for my first shift. Unsure of what to expect, I was understandably nervous.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted by the hostess, and instructed to have a seat while I waited for Cindy. Cindy, a Caucasian woman in her late 30s and self-proclaimed butch lesbian, had a killer mullet and gregarious nature. Still to this day she is easily one of the most laid-back managers I’ve ever had. She had a smoking hot “lipstick” wife, but Cindy was a player! She flirted with everyone. She was also undergoing chemotherapy, quietly.

Cindy didn’t make a big deal about the fact that she was sick, she maintained her normal 50+ hour a week work schedule

College Comp.

and put on a brave face. Occasionally we could see she was fatigued, or she would have to retreat to the bathroom to vomit.

But, in general, she carried on as usual. I couldn’t imagine continuing such strenuous work while being so ill, but Cindy made it look easy. I filled out all my new hire paperwork and was given a uniform. I was originally hired as a server, so the first few days this is what I was trained for; I don’t remember my trainer’s name, but I liked her. On my third day, they gave me my own section on the floor (those of us who have been servers know what I’m talking about). I don’t remember much except for this one table, it was a family of four: mom, dad, two kids.

The specifics elude me now, but there was an error with one of the kids’ meals, and the mom ripped me a new one. I began sobbing right there at the table, and my trainer rushed over. She explained that I was still “in training” and asked what was wrong, the woman immediately changed her tune…I don’t remember if she apologized to me, but she was a huge kiss ass the rest of the time I served them. The next day, when I returned to work, my trainer said “Well, you came back! After yesterday, that’s a good sign.” Or something along those lines. I have always been rather defiant by nature, and hearing this gave me a great sense of triumph. That’s right world, I have been through the fire, now watch me rise like a phoenix to work another day! Shortly after, one of my friends from school who was working as a host wanted to go back to serving, so she and I switched positions, which worked out better for the both of us. About 6 months later, still hosting, my area director, Ron, was in the store one day.

He noticed how proactive I was with the servers as I sat their sections, making sure they each knew and that every table was being greeted promptly. He told my General Manager, Vigen, to give me a raise. Vigen was a big cocky guy from Iraq. He was considered one of the top GMs in our district, because he ran a tight ship and his numbers were consistently up. Unfortunately, he was also a huge misogynist. He called me over to the managers’ table and told me Ron wanted him to give me a raise, and how much did I think I deserved? I had no idea how to respond. I was only eighteen, this was my first job, and I was a woman. I started at minimum wage when I was hired, which at the time was $6.50 an hour. After my first 90 days I received

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a $0.50 raise for good performance. So, I am now at $7.00 an hour. I want to say $9, but a $2 raise seems kind of steep, right?

So, I ask for $8, done, no questions asked. Wayne, another GM in our district, basically told me I had them by the balls, and should’ve asked for more. Wish I had figured that out sooner. I also learned at some point, that some of my male co-workers got more per hour for the same positions as some of us ladies.

I was not a big fan of Vigen. His best friend, Wayne, however, was a fan of mine. He started striking up conversations with me when he would call my store to speak with Vigen. He liked the sound of my voice, etc. Let’s not forget, I was still eighteen at this point. Wayne never would tell me how old he was, but he had a nine-year-old son, if that gives you any idea. He didn’t care to discuss these things. We went out twice, both times were kind of awkward, we could spend hours talking on the phone, but for some reason when we were together in person, neither of us spoke. I have always kind of chalked it up to us both being Libras, but who knows! I stayed over at his place, the second time we went out, and nothing happened. We both slept. It was weird. That was the last time we went out. See how everyone we’ve met so far, including myself, is a little quirky? Now, let’s see who was on substances.

I’ll be the first to admit (depending on who I’m speaking to), that I fall under this category. Yep, I was a little stoner. And, Bob Evans is primarily where I honed my craft. I was kind of a late bloomer with the weed and alcohol consumption. I never even tried a cigarette until I was 16. By the time I started working at Bob Evans, I had dabbled some, but that was when my daily cannabis usage really began. Pretty much all my server friends smoked, some of them even on their cigarette breaks! I was more of an after work, in the parking lot kind of girl. In my experience, one didn’t have to throw far to hit someone with either a history of substance abuse, or currently under the influence of something. There are a couple people who stand out in my mind when I think of substances around the workplace. First, there was Jill, she was best friends with my server trainer, early 30s, Caucasian, big TOOL fan. She had been in all sorts of trouble and was trying to clean up her act, but still smoked weed and whatnot. I hung out with her outside

College Comp.

of work one time, and she had some old coke that had melted onto a compact mirror, we “free-based” it together with a piece of aluminum foil and a pen casing. This was the only time I hung out with her outside of work. Additionally, one of the line cooks, whose name I can’t recall, seemed to always be fucked up on something. Usually alcohol, I think, but I’ll never forget the time he came to work tripping on acid like it was nothing. I thought he was totally nuts!! Still have no idea how the hell he pulled that off. He was one of the better cooks, too. Then there was me, hanging out at the restaurant one day, on my day off, in my best friend Kristin’s section, tripping on mushrooms. I ordered a grilled cheese and beef vegetable soup. I sat there for a while, I don’t think I ate anything, just stared at it mostly. Then I went to the bathroom and proceeded to vomit all over the handicapped stall. And I mean ALL OVER. I quietly went back to my table and told Kristin what happened. She didn’t tell anyone it was me. I felt better, and, boy did we laugh. As we can see, there were plenty of substances going around. Although, those who probably needed the substances the most, weren’t using them, which may have been why they were pissed off at the world.

Who were these pissed off people? The day shift servers, for instance, tended to fit a certain demographic: middle-aged white women, most of them single/divorced, or stay-at-home moms trying to earn some tips while their kids were at school. Chris and Christy, both somewhere on this spectrum and equally as surly, basically “ruled the roost.” Chris was always pissed off about something someone did wrong, or just didn’t do, and Christy was always cruising for as many tables as she could possibly take. If her section wasn’t full, she wasn’t happy.

They liked me though, and since I mostly worked evenings with the high-school kids, aka my little minions, I didn’t have to navigate their drama except during shift changes. Being a rock star employee at the ole’ Bob, I naturally worked my way up to management, before ending my stint there. One of my first mornings as opening shift manager, my opening grill cook called out. This meant I had to do all my stuff: count out the tills, distribute them, etc., plus set up the line, and start cooking breakfast until the second cook showed up. This was not my wheelhouse. After a few frustrated attempts on the same

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customer’s bacon and eggs, Chris offered to take over for me, since she had experience on the line. I graciously accepted.

These are the types of things we did for one another, despite our imperfections, we all recognized that we were in this together. The line cooks were another angry bunch, including the managers whenever any of them had to step on the line -interacting with them was unavoidable. I, too, succumbed to the rage one feels when being bombarded with tickets, and trying to juggle breakfast, lunch, and dinner items all at once, all while deciphering our secret ticket code language. It’s a pretty safe bet most of these people had been working there way too long.

I have found versions of these disgruntled creatures at every restaurant I’ve worked in.

It’s true the interesting kinds of characters we meet working in restaurants can be universal. We may seem zany, intoxicated, or somewhat hostile, but we all have a story. My first restaurant job, at Bob Evans, left a lasting impression on me. I would not be who I am today if it weren’t for the people I met and the experiences we shared there, together.

College Comp.

The 3 Best Meals I Have Ever Had Felicia Stanhope

None of us would be here if it weren’t for food.

Nobody could survive without it. I can speak for most when I say that I love food and appreciate it very much. Food is a huge part of my life. Even if I didn’t need it to survive, I would still eat it every day. Food makes me feel good. It brings me comfort and makes my taste buds go wild. My favorite part about food is that it brings a lot of people together.

It’s really nice to be able to sit down and enjoy a meal with friends and family. I feel a bond in my heart when I get to experience eating with someone.

The three best meals I have ever had were at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. with my family, at Houlton Farms Dairy with my boyfriend and his family, and at Geaghan’s with my boyfriend.

One of my most memorable meals is when we went to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. while on vacation with my family at Universal Orlando. In past years that we visited Universal, we had always made a point to eat at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. at least once. What I really enjoyed about this restaurant was to be able to converse with my dad and stepmother over a unique menu of great food. Bubba Gump Shrimp is based upon the movie, Forrest Gump, so there were all kinds of decorations hanging from the walls including license plates with cool sayings, posters, signs, and other neat artifacts that connect back to the famous movie.

Besides the food, the visual appeal of it all was one of my favorite parts of the restaurant. Every time I walk into that restaurant, my heart beats a little faster due to the excitement. The food there is extraordinary!

Some of the family favorites include Shrimper’s Net Catch, Shrimp Shack Mac and Cheese, “...Of Course We Have Scampi!”, and my personal favorite, Dumb

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Luck Coconut Shrimp. What was really cool about each experience was that the waiter or waitress always quizzed us with trivia from Forrest Gump while we waited for our food. Since my dad is such a huge fan of the movie, he nearly got every single question right. The best part about it was how happy my family was. All of us were enjoying a great meal creating memories at the famous Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. The second best meal I have ever had was when my boyfriend and his family took me out to Houlton Farms Dairy. I had never been there before, but Ben’s dad grew up in Houlton. We were visiting Ben’s grandparents for the Fourth of July. Ben had always raved about this place and I finally had the chance to experience it. We each ordered Awful Awfuls. It’s quite an odd name but they really taste delicious. It is a thick milkshake with another kind of ice cream on top. I only got a small one and it was still huge! I had to ask Ben to help me devour the monstrosity. I chose to get some kind of chocolate milkshake, along with another kind of chocolate ice cream on top.

That soothing chocolate flavor really did the trick in my mouth; it was like the physical embodiment of heaven. We were all sitting at a picnic table in the deep red, late afternoon sun enjoying ourselves with our ice cream. It was a perfect summer day. We couldn’t help but to go on about how great they tasted. Now, I know we all think that ice cream is delicious, but Houlton Farms Dairy is the absolute best. It’s different from all others. They actually get their dairy locally! I have never had any ice cream that is even comparable to Houlton Farms Dairy and I loved getting to share this experience with his family. My heart felt warmer than that sun that beat down upon us. My stomach was so full on that day, which helped make it one of the greatest from my memory. Houlton Farms Dairy was one of my most memorable experiences with food.

College Comp.

My most favorite meal was when I went to Geaghan’s in Bangor with my boyfriend, Ben, on Valentine’s Day. Overall, it was an amazing day.

Geaghan’s Reserve wings are my favorite food in the whole world, so Ben called and got a reservation for us. I felt so loved because it was a really sweet gesture. It was really nice for us to be able to sit down and bond for a while without other people around. We ordered our usual: two pounds of the Reserve chicken and a side of fries. The sweet and spicy aromas that surrounded us as our food was brought out forced my mouth to water. I was dying of anticipation to taste the delicious chicken. My heart was just so full. We ate every last bite of the chicken, celery, and fries. We were stuffed beyond comprehension. To be with the one I loved most, and with the meal I treasure most felt so fulfilling, and all I cared about was that moment. The best thing about it was that we got to know each other more. We had never been on a real date before. My boyfriend is my favorite person, and Geahan’s Reserve chicken is my favorite food, so when you put them together, it calls for a fabulous day and a night that I can’t forget.

Food is one of the greatest things in my life. Food, just being as simple as it is, creates many beautiful memories. From cookouts to restaurants, food brings joy and happiness. Food is the key to survival, but in more ways than one. Not only do you have to eat it to survive, but without food, some people don’t meet and gatherings wouldn’t be the same. People wouldn’t bond over food if it didn’t exist. Most importantly, family bonding happens most around the dinner table.

You tend to talk more and enjoy yourself more while you eat. All three of my greatest meals involved being with friends and family, and how great the bonding was during that time. Food tastes great, but it’s the bonding that’s around food that means the most to me, and what makes a meal truly great.

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CREATIVE NON-FICTION

CREATIVE NON-FICTION

CREATIVE NON-FICTION

It’s okayy. Whatever it is it is okay. It’s all okaayy. Whatever I decide to saayy – that is okaayy. I can say anythingg.. Whatever I want CAN happen. We are each granted our own life. This is mine. :) :) My life is meant to be lived. It’s meant to be.. Whatever I want it to be….. And I want it that waayy.. I can do anyythingg I want.. Anyythiinngg is possible.. I SAAYY.. Let’s fill up this world with love..

Seventeen

By Jordan Potter

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Creative Non-Fiction

One day, we went to Sand Beach, and along the way we met one of his friend’s from high school. (She was a mechanic.) She asked how old I was, and I said “3!!!” super happily. “Threeee?!!! That’s a nice age to be!” or something like that she replied back. It was the beginning of my favorite Sand Beach memory. Right after my dad and I got down to the beach, there was this group of high schoolers playing jacks. I ran straight in- and they let me play. They were cool about it. I also had a way of always finding sand toys and treasures on the beach. But never anyy prettyy girls. I wasn’t into those yet. Once as we were leaving, I looked down and saw a black pair of Lilo & Stitch sunglasses, which I kept for a few years. They were prettyy rockin’ shades! A summer or 2 later, my dad and I spent a little too much time at the beach, and as we were on the way home it became late. I remember it as late August, and as we arrived off the interstate onto Broadway I looked towards the TJ Max parking lot and the world had just what was left of that special blue glow before it fades into black.

That’s reaallyy what set the stone for my definition of adventure.

We would go on joy rides together. Very, veryy, veryyy joyous joy rides to wherever the sun shined most. I remember how we’d drive real fast, “Can we go faster daddy?” I’d always say.. and then he would. I still couldn’t see over the dashboard yet.

I would sit in my booster seat, and watch the tree branches going by as I gazed at the sky. I thought the sun was cool, and I thought the clouds were cool, but what was especiallyyy coool… was the blue strip at the top of the windshield that made everything blue. I also loved looking at the speedometer. It was irresistibly intriguing, and I imagined what it would be like to actuallyy be tall enough to see the road ahead. Eventuallyy that day came as one of my most magnificent life accomplishments.

As I got older, I developed a fascination for Sand Beach. Wednesdays and Thursdays were my dad’s days off work, and we would do fun stuff together. Somehow those days always seemed sunnier and filled with more smiles. They were like prime summer days. I remember times when it would be hot- the summer sun would glisten and liven every leaf of every tree up. On these days we would wash, and wax his car… and WOOOOOOWWWW the way it sparkled. I LOVVEEDD THAATT..

I remember a night, as darkness was falling my dad took me for a ride in the red Corvette. As we were driving, I was still too small to see over the dash board, but I loved the way the fog lights lit up the scene. It was especially cool driving at nightbecause all of the buttons lit up green, which I liked, and they reflected in the windows. We didn’t go farther than down the road and back, because we didn’t want to be late for dinner. That’s what I count that as my first adventure.

Everything starts smaller than I can imagine. When I think of adventures, I can remember all the way back to when I was 2..

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During spring time- the juniors and seniors I looked up to all sat together at lunch. Usually at the table beside where my friends sat. (I usually got to choose our table because I was early.) Quite often it would just so happen that on the nice days, they would choose to sit outside, and my friends and I would sit outside too. Each of them would bring in food, sort of like a picnic potluck at school lunch, and they’d all joke around and share their food. It looked like a good time. :) :) :)

Later in the soccer season- One morning, as the soccer team was waiting on the bus for everyone to arrive so we could head to our away game- Jacob Applebee sent a message to someone that he was running late. Right before we were about to leave, a car turned in. “That’s him!” Someone yelled from the back. He got out of the passenger side, and as he stepped on the bus the prettyy girl in the front waved and drove awayy. EVERYYONE WAS STARINGG AT HIM. He started blushing. All his friends went “OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!” and gave him high fives. The varsity coach smirked and said the bus can leave. All of the commotion was now in the back of the bus. It was a big deal- not that he was late.. but because he slept with her. ;) ;)

My first soccer practice- it was sunnyy, my dad dropped me off, and he made me feel good. But I was nervous. Everyone already there was older than I was, and really good in my opinion. I felt like I wasn’t good enough, especiallyyy when it came to being sociallyy cool. Eventuallyy- I learned that I looked up to the sexyy people. Because that’s what I wanted to be. Sexyy.

Jacob Applebee was the handsome guy who could have any girl in the school, and that’s what I wanted. He would come into my class at the end of the day and start his truck- and be one of the first ones to leave. He was AWESOME!! Not onlyy that, but he dated Sarah Perly. She was amaazziinnggllyyyyy attractive, and I had a major crush on her. Eventuallyy she began dating Paul. Paul was also veryy sexy. We had gym class together, and he would always bring a hanger for his clothes from Abercrombie. He knew some things. :) :) He also would always do arm workouts after school, and I learned a lot from him…

After 8th grade, I participated in all of the summer sports which were conveniently scheduled on certain nights.. at the same time. So I had to pick and choose or compromise which practices to attend.

Eventuallyy- I wound up in 7th grade. 7th grade was FUNN!! We did lots of adventurous things, and when it was all over I was almost kindaa sad to leave my classmates. Over summer, I realized that all of my older friends were in high school, and I felt like I was ready for high school as well. I started imagining what it would be like as a high schooler. Drivingg, girlss, I started imagining what it would be like to be 17. I became an 8th grader, and the first day of school started off great.. just like they all have. I remember all of my first days. It wasn’t long before I began to notice that all of the girls checked me out when I wore my sexy jeans. And some of them liked the way my outfits matched. And everyone loved my hair. During basketball season I touched boobs for the first time. (probably shouldn’t sayy that) and I felt like high school would treat me well. :) :)

Creative Non-Fiction AWESOME TIMES.

I reaallyy wanted to become a junior. I wanted to be 17. I wanted to stayy out late with friends, drive real far, and go on lots of hot, hot dates. I wanted to be as attractive as possible. I imagined dating many girls, and walking through the hallway waving hi to friends and sharing high fives- and being late to class because I was kissing. I would have my own car, and on Fridays my friends and I could go out to McDonald’s and have a tray of just fries and ketchup before practice. We could hit up every fast food place and see which had the best. We could all bring in food to share and have our own springtime-picnic-potluck-parties every so often. But most of all, there would be days we get out of class early- and we could go to Sand Beach and have a good time. We could meet up in the library, decide who’s car to take, pack some food and blare our favorite tunes the whole way there. 17 IS GOING TO BE FULL.. OF FUN, DATES, FRIENDS, LOVE, ADVENTURES, &

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-but a whimper..

Not with a bang‌

This is the way the world ends,

This is the way the world ends,

Creative Non-Fiction

They were all happy songs. Now, the chorus of my life is defined by new songs. But those ones never faded…

“De do do do, de Da Da Da” “NAA NAA- NAA NAAA-NAA!!”

“WALK THIS WAAYY, TALK THIS WAAYY!!!!”

CRAZYY.. But that’s how it rollss-millions of people.. livin’ dispoowoowooosseedd….. mayybee.. it’s not too laayaatee-to learn how to looovvee aannd forget howw too faayayaaddeee”

DUNDUNN DUNDUNN DUNNDUNN…..AYYE AYYE AYYE AYYE AYYE AYYE TTTZZZZZZZZZZ DUNNDUNN DUNNDUNN BANOWWNAANOWWNOWWANOWWNOWWANOWWNOWW

“AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL ABOAARRDD!!

AHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAAHAAAA!! DUNDUNN..

e jungle, “Junglee-lloovvee- it’s drivin’ me mann we got the fun a nd games..” it’s maakkiinn’ mee craazzyy- crazyy”

“TALKIN’ BOUT THINGSS, That W!!”

OW-NANOW -N W O -N H NO-BODYY CARES A D “Welcome to th

I remember my dad telling me that when I was little. I remember one time, he told me on our way to the living room. The sun was shining in, the door was open, and the air smelled fresh. We had a pioneer receiver, and RCA speakers. Then my dad put on the tunes.. “sweeeeeeet eeeemmmoooootttiiioooonnnn…”

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But somehow I fell off the planet‌

I never thought the world would end,

Creative Non-Fiction

beatingg down, filling up

and we’re dancinn’ on the edge of the Hollyywood

my partyy- dance if I WANT TO- we

“IT’S ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT- TONIGHT, TONIGHT” “wooaaooohhh oooaaoooohhhh”

“TONIIGGHHTT, TONIIGGHHTT

TONIIGGHHTT there’s a party on the top, top, top of

Thursdayyy,‘n’ Fridaayy,

Saturday. Saturday to

wooaaooaaoohhohh it’s always a good time” “wooaaooaaoooo wooaaooaaoohhohh it’s always a good time” “Doesn’t matter whenn- it’s always a good time!”

ALWAYSS AA GOODD TIIMMEE” “wooaaooaaoooo

always a good time.” “we don’t even have to tryy- it’s

that tonight’s gonna be a good night, that tonight’s gonna be a goood night, that

tonight’s gonna be a good, good niigghhttttt” “It’s

HHOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sundayy, you know what we sayy- partyyy everyy dayy- I GOTTA FEELINN’ WOOOOOO

and down, around the clocckkkk” “Mondayy, Tuesddayy, Wednesdayy,

this town, it’s me and you and we’re shakin’ this ground… THIS IS OUR SHOW!!!” “Round and round, up

“wooaaooohhh oooaaoooohhhh” “it’s

can get crazyy let it aaaaaaalllllllllllllll ouutt” “LAA, LAA, LAA, WHATEVERR.. LAA, LAA, LAA..” “just don’t stop, let’s keep the beat pumpin’ keeep the beat up” “it’s you and me and we’re runnin’

signn”

the woorrllldd-” -”

DOOOO” “TONIIGHTT,

never be the saammeee..” “DE DOO DE DOOO DOOOO” “DE DOO DE DOOO

hear is… “The sun goes down, the stars come out, and all that counts, is here aanndd noww- myy uuuuunniivvveerrrsssseee, will

phenomenal. It’s like all my favorite songs are replaying on repeat- everyydayyy, 365- all I can

smiles to empower a world SOOO GOOOODD that everything feels

the world with enough sunshine and good vibes to enchant the endless circle/exchange of

flooowwiiinngggg forwardss within the slight, cool, breeezzee. The sun is

Right now my world of 16 is in prime sunshine. The palm trees are swaying, and I can feel myself

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At soccer practice, we scrimmaged- it had been a perfect sunshine dayy so faarrr- and as my best friend from first grade dribbled closer, I realized he wasn’t going to stop until he had to.. so I stepped out of the goal, he was alreadyy too close- I dove down towards the ball- he brought his foot back- and ended up kicking my head. The back of my head hit the ground- I tried to get up- the front of my head hit the ground- OUUCCHH. This was reaallyy hurting now.

I didn’t know what to do. So I kept playingg.

Soon the sun had set.. my friends and I were planning on going to the football game. My best friend insisted on bringing me home, and eventuallyy I gave in. I would learn that I got a concussion.. But I didn’t know it yet..

It was like the planets were aligned, and as though my life was about to change forever..

September 23rd (stretch this out and up) I could feel it in the force in the morning when I woke up.

Creative Non-Fiction

As I went to bed, I remember layyiinngg on top of it, staring at the ceiling in disappointment.. because nothing dramaticallyy changed my life at all.. But ever since that dayy-it has never been the same‌

September 23rd (stretch this out and up)

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Creative Non-Fiction

Myy life became a mix of fantasyy and realityy. Myy dreams became impressed upon the open pages of my heart- and my life became handwritten on top.

This is what it means to be 17..

Anything is possible. Reality is amplifying magically.. My world is overflowing with love.. and its aura in all is about to flourish…..

Summer’s sun has kissed me to its finest, and I am about to be awakened into a vast world of romance. It’s all on its waayyyyy.. and I am washed, washed overr byy wavess, wavess of romance.

An alluring path of amaazziinngg dates and amaazziinngg chances await, amidst fascinating surprises and entrancing adventures.

Charm heavily illuminates this aura.. and it is fueled purelyy by a flaamingg, buurrnniinngg, passion of hott, hott, hott.. affection. An abundance of fun, flirtingg, kissingg, and wholehearted.. daringlyy captivating escapades will make up a newlyy full bloomed world.

Let’s dream wildly for a second…

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Creative Non-Fiction

was supposed to be the sexiest year of high school. As a senior, I didn’t even think about getting asked to prom…

I was asked to prom as a freshman. I was asked to prom as a sophomore. But not once as a junior, the year that

As far as prom.. I’ll know all along how I’m going to ask her. But I’m going to keep her wondering. During April vacation, on a As it would turn out, during April vacation.. the weather would be in a heat spell for April, and there would be a stretch of beautiful weather. Not just here, but in Yarmouth at night when the moon is almost full, the temperature is warm, and it isn’t cloudyy or windyy, I’ll surprise her by taking her to my the seashore too. :) :) Not onlyy this, but on the days around Friday the tide would align perfectlyy with what I had dreampt. And the moon was also on its way to full. family’s cottages at the seashore. The tides will just happen to work out perfectlyy- and I would be able to drive down during the Everything was perfect. I had everythingg… except the girl.. Because of my concussion, even if I did have a girlfriend, I still wouldn’t have been able to do it all. To pull it off, I afternoon after high tide and set up the area exactlyy how I imagined. This is the fantasy of all fantasies. Then I’d drive back home and would have to have my family help out a lot, and there would be no surprise. But anything is possible. pick her up. :) :)

The way I imagine prom being- is something close to extraordinary. The only way to step it up would be to add a little bit of go with me. =) Lol! When my aunt and uncle came up for the weekend before spring break, we all talked about it at my grandmother’s house together. She didn’t get to go to her pixie dust. I plan on dating lots of girls while I am a junior, and then as a senior I’ll just go steadyy with one. We’ll couple up during prom. But all of her boys did. She gave me valuable advice. A long time ago it was evident that I wasn’t going to have what I had always dreamed, so I decided to save that for November, and become closer and closer. We’ll do everything together, feel everything together, and whatever else high school later, It’s never too late. sweethearts find themselves doing. This girl is going to be mine.

I want to have a kick ass junior year full of lots of hot dates, and wild.. wild.. fantasies made into magical memories with lots and lots of single- and I wanted to stay that way for a while. I got asked to prom, which totallyy, completelyyy, blindsided me. I said no thank you. =) December came, and that month beautiful girls. They’ll be sexyy.. and I’ll be sexyy….. and whoever I’m with and I will take the world by storm. We’ll dazzle anyone didn’t last veryy longg. A couple more girls wanted to go to prom with me. January came, and with it brought another girl who asked if I wanted to go to prom with her. =) =) who lays eyes on us. They’ll want to be us. Just like I wanted to be them. It’s as though all I look for in a role model is incomparable During February I got asked a few times on the downn loww… and during March rumors of people wanting to ask me made their way to me, but the people never did. The last attractiveness, because that’s what I want to be. Sexxyy AS FUCK. It’s like all of the things I want to do when I am 17 involve staying time I got asked was during April. I had lots of friends telling me I should ask someone, and that there would be plenty of girls happy to go with me. My mom said I should just do up late, and girls. Of course!! How can you be 17 without girls?? what I want to do, but my sister said I should go with someone hottt. My dad joked around with me one day and said that I should ask my first grade teacher to prom, she would

September went by, and October too. Then November came along. The month that I had intended to make my girlfriend and I official. Except I didn’t have a girlfriend… I was

I’ve been imagining what I want prom to be like since I was a freshman. Who I want to go with.. what we are going to do… everything.

it’s funnyyy-

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each step down our bodies would become closer and closer. Finallyy, as we stepped onto the rocks we would turn towards each other,

The stairs would be elegantly lit up by a whirl of string lights, and as we went down together- our hands would touch, and with

petals. I would gracefullyy lead her along the path between the trees to the stairs.

I’d also have red rose petals placed along the letters underneath, and the stairs down to the rocks would also be pizzazzed with red rose

in surprise… We'd be at the edge of the banking, and right in front of us would be.. PROM lit up and spelled out with tea light candles.

of suspense. She’d turn to me, with “WHAT’S THAT??!” written all over her face. Then her eyes would light up, and her smile widen

little cottage, and stop.. Off the banking ahead of us would be a faint glow, and the waves faintlyy rushing in would give a serious sense

the next sight to see. We’d turn heads toward each other and smile, laugh as we hold hands and run off into the distance. We’d pass the

By now we’d be galloping past the trees, all strung with string lights and glowing from Chinese lanterns, anxiouslyy awaitingg

Off the banking to the left- would be complete shadow and pretty pinks in the sky.

hovering at a gorgeous spot on the horizon, bedazzling the water with colors, and lighting up the world with a golden sunshine tone.

keep walking through the grass. To each side of us, left and right- would be the ocean. Off the banking to the right- the sun would be

be hanging from branches of almost every tree. As we walk past the big cottage, the lanterns on its porch will light up our cheeks. We'd

arm around her as we look towards the sea, and we’d turn right and start walking. It would be beautiful- the Chinese lanterns would

still sitting in the car, we'd hold hands and look into each other's eyes like the whole world was ours. We’d step out, and I’d put my

We would arrive- together.. at the seashore. We’d park the car beside the big cottage, right underneath the trees. As we were

Creative Non-Fiction I also thought it would be cool to plan out our outfits, our activities, who we were

apparantlyy I seemed like I could go with anyone. I chose myself. I had fun. I hung out with friends, danced, and had a blast!! I even stayed until the end.

with contrasting lavender, and looked great. My dad dropped me off in the Mercedes, and I ended up being fashionably late. I also shocked a lot of people because

because that’s what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to go with someone just to go, I wanted to do whatever I want. SO that is exactlyy what I did. =) =) I wore dark purple

whatever I wanted to wear to prom. Lucky us- our first stop was our last. I picked out a nice suit, and had fabulous help. =) I went to prom TOTALLYYY FREEEEEE

going to go with, practicallyy our entire existence at prom. But obviouslyy, I didn’t have the girl. During Mayy, my mom and my sister took me shopping to get

probably end up having a picnic lunch. It would be a good time.

smoothies, but I think anything would go. We’d have a tooooooooonnnn of picking up to do, and if it took us long enough we would

Waking up the next morning would be like a whole new world, for both of us. I would opt for pancakes and pineapple

our sleeping bags. But if it was warm enough we could even sleep in the hammock.

the fire in our sleeping bags. Eventuallyy we would get tired, and I imagine we would go inside to sleep in a bed, rather than outside in

good fire. We’d also be able to listen to music, and if we were in the mood for it, we could even go skinnyy dippingg. Then warm up by

we could bring back the left over pizza and share it at our fire. I’d also bring out the sleeping bags and stuff for smores. It would be a

the fire and go to Pat’s Pizza down the road and get Gifford’s Ice Cream. (They’re side by side.) By then the stars would be out, and

to the fire place and start a fire while the sun sets. That would be a special sunset to watch. After the sun went down, we could pause

I’d have to remember to pick up the candles and rose petals so they don’t get washed awayy by the tide. Then we could run up

across each other’s cheeks, and perhaps it would be the most passionate kiss of our lives. Or not. You never know.

she’d put her arms around my shoulders and I’d put my hands around her waist and pull her in- then we’d kiss. Our hands would run

40

Myy heart will always be 17..

Are You Full?

By Emily Boutin

Reaching, and dipping, and slurping, and chewing.

The rhythm of eating begins.

On the narrow table, a feast. Soy sauce, hot pepper sauce, shredded ginger, pinched dumplings in round wicker baskets, soupy dumplings, noodles, and green vegetables.

Chinese zips in and out of my ears. Dizzying. I don’t understand, I smile and nod.

Kate watches me.

“You are holding your chopsticks wrong,” her fiancé says.

“Like this.”

I try, my chopsticks wobble.

“I can’t do it.” “沒關係/ mei2 guan1 xi, 慢慢來/ man4 man4 lai2, it doesn’t matter, take your time,” says Kate.

I pick up a soupy dumpling.

A soup dumpling is not in soup, the soup is in the dumpling.

I balance the dumpling on a spoon, like Kate, I use the chopsticks to lift it to my mouth.

I take a bite.

Hot liquid pours out burning my mouth.

The dumpling slithers from my chopsticks.

Plop!

We look at the dumpling lying on the table.

A disgraceful brown soy sauce stain spreads on the table cloth.

I blush.

Creative Non-Fiction

“不好意思/ bu4 hao3 yi4 si, Excuse me.” “沒關係, 沒關係/ mei2 guan1 xi, 慢慢吃/ man4 man4 chi1," said Kate. “It’s okay, it’s okay, enjoy your food.”

Enjoy your food.

When I moved to Taiwan I couldn’t speak Chinese. I needed, craved, desired, to speak with people; and there is one topic that is always a guaranteed success: Food. One guaranteed way to spend time with friends and co-workers: Food. I learned my first words in the 7-11.

Like a child, I was brought back to the primordial beginnings of language. I focused first on what I needed and desired.

Some of my first food words were: ● I want/我要/ wo3 yao4 ● Fried rice/炒飯/ chao3 fan4 ● Fried noodles/炒麵/chao3 mian4 ● Spice/辣/la4 ● Black coffee/美式咖啡/mei3 shi4 ka1 fei1 ● Latte/拿鐵/na2 tie3 I liked to eat in 7-11 because I didn’t know how to order in a restaurant. Eating in 7-11 may sound awful, but 7-11 in Taiwan is special.

There are endless microwavable lunches, coffee, tea, hard boiled tea eggs, photo booths, copy machines, ATMs, package pickup, and snacks. If necessary you could live in 7-11. However, one can only survive off of frozen food for so long before going insane.

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I am alone on a train. A middle aged man sits beside me. He takes out an orange and crackers. He gives them to me, As if it is normal to give a stranger on a train snacks.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“I’m from America.”

“What part?”

“I’m from Maine,” I peel the orange.

Scented droplets of juice squirt out. They float in the sunny window.

Emerald green hills, rice paddies, and red and orange temples laced with dragons fly past us.

“You are an English teacher?”

“Yes, I teach in Hsinchu.”

“I live in Taipei,” he tells me.

He is holding a book.

“What’re you reading?” I ask.

“I’m reading about the stock market. I like to play the stocks, if you invest, it’s the best way to make money. If you want to be smart with your money, you play the stock market.”

“Oh ok,” I have no idea how to play the stock market.

“I also own rental property in Hsinchu and Taipei. When I was a young man I worked in China as an Engineer.”

“Why did you work there instead of in Taiwan?” I ask.

“More money. I was an engineer for a machine. I worked 12 hours a day and if the machine broke at night, they would call me. I had to wake

Creative Non-Fiction

I am alone on a train. A middle aged man sits beside me. He takes out an orange and crackers. He gives them to me, As if it is normal to give a stranger on a train snacks.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“I’m from America.”

“What part?”

“I’m from Maine,” I peel the orange.

Scented droplets of juice squirt out. They float in the sunny window.

Emerald green hills, rice paddies, and red and orange temples laced with dragons fly past us.

“You are an English teacher?”

“Yes, I teach in Hsinchu.”

“I live in Taipei,” he tells me.

He is holding a book.

“What’re you reading?” I ask.

“I’m reading about the stock market. I like to play the stocks, if you invest, it’s the best way to make money. If you want to be smart with your money, you play the stock market.”

“Oh ok,” I have no idea how to play the stock market.

“I also own rental property in Hsinchu and Taipei. When I was a young man I worked in China as an Engineer.”

“Why did you work there instead of in Taiwan?” I ask.

“More money. I was an engineer for a machine. I worked 12 hours a day and if the machine broke at night, they would call me. I had to wake

44

up and go fix the machine. Even if I didn’t know what was wrong I had to pretend I knew or I could lose my job.” “太辛苦了/ tai4 xin1 ku4 le, that’s too exhausting,” I say.

“Yes. But later I moved to Taiwan to work."

"That’s good.”

“I have a wife and a son. And now I’m retired.”

“You can relax,” I say.

“And play the stocks. My stop is coming up. Nice to talk with you.”

“Nice to meet you, thank you.”

He gets off.

I open my crackers and eat them and I think about his life.

The shape of Taiwan is embedded in my psyche. Like a strange hanging gourd.

On Saturday morning my friend Wendy comes to my apartment and picks me up. I am bleary eyed and want to crawl back into my bed, but Wendy said we have to go to the most popular beef noodle restaurant in Chubei. She drives and I look out the window. The air is filled with an early morning smog, as it often is in winter. I know we are at the restaurant when I see a line of people stemming from the front door reaching around the corner.

“Do you see how popular the beef noodles are? They are so delicious there is a line!” Wendy says happily.

I am less than excited, I never wait in line for food. The best beef noodles in town. I don’t really care for soup noodles.

Creative Non-Fiction

Wendy loves taking me out for food. She takes me to Szechuan spicy Chinese food. I eat duck tongue and chicken feet. We go for an authentic Taiwan breakfast with egg pie, dumplings, and warm soy milk.

Greasy and wonderful.

Her husband takes us to the mountains. We have 三杯雞, San1

Bei1 Ji1, a free roaming natural fed chicken cooked in three kinds of spice. Sesame oil, soy sauce, and alcohol.

The restaurant windows are open.

A soft rain filled breeze travels through the room.

It carries the warm aroma of the roasted chicken.

Outside we are surrounded by fields of white calla lilies.

At work Kate asks me, 你吃飽了嗎/ ni2 chi3 bao1 le ma, have you eaten, are you full?

This question is music, a special caring.

The question, “are you full” is not always literal. It is a greeting usually used by seniors, in place of “How are you?” I ask my co-worker why people ask if you are full, instead of how you are. He thinks the question, “are you full” dates back to time when people in Taiwan didn’t have enough food to eat. Most Chinese and Taiwanese will not ask the question “How are you?” Kate once told me that when Westerners ask her how she is, she simply doesn’t know how to respond!

For my first Chinese New Year in Taiwan Kate invites me home.

I’m excited and nervous. Nervous because I won’t be able to speak with her family easily. I don’t know New Year traditions. On New Year you

46

should bring some snacks. I bring fruit. I have a pineapple, apples, and guavas. "太多了, that’s too much!” her mom protests.

Kate and I decorate a silver pussy willow tree. We tie red and gold ribbons on it.

We set off firecrackers in the park.

Kates takes me to see pink cherry blossoms.

For dinner we go to Kate’s grandmother’s house. Her grandmother is excited, she wants me to try all of the food she has cooked.

There are greens, egg, pork, chicken, and fish. The fish is a special part of the meal. Only one side of the fish is eaten. The other side is left uneaten, this is so that there will be plenty to come in the New Year.

There is a dangerous soup.

I have an upper respiratory infection. This is probably because of air pollution and a humid climate. I don’t want Kate’s family to know I am sick. I don’t want to ruin our week. I shouldn’t be drinking this soup, but when I am offered, I drink it.

The broth is a stinging, burning alcohol. It is fire in my sinus, fiery liquid in my swollen throat, and tired lungs.

I splutter.

I choke and can’t stop coughing.

“Emily likes your soup, grandma,” says Kate.

Everyone laughs.

In Chinese idioms are numerous. I remember one in particular.

Creative Non-Fiction

酸甜苦辣/ suan1 tian2 ku3 la4, sour, sweet, bitter, spicy. These are the common flavors of Taiwanese foods. However, this is an idiom about life.

We all taste the sour, sweet, bitter, spicy flavors of life eventually.

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CREATIVE WRITING

CREATIVE WRITING

CREATIVE WRITING

Magical Realism

By Tyler Capone Dubois

Description: this story was written for an exercise in fiction, where we had to write a realistic story with only one element of magic added. For this story, I worked with the premise that a person could be brought back for up to 40 hours after their death. Originally, in this universe, this technology was created to solve murders. After a while, the technology became available to the general public, where problems were not as easily solved as cold case files.

“You know, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

The silence in the room stretched for what seemed like infinity.

Modern medicine is a true marvel, capable of bringing people back from death for just enough time to settle their affairs and say what other generations left unsaid, and yet we, in this moment, in this room, could not bring ourselves to make the most of our time. As in life, the clock ticked onward with rhythmic integrity and we just let it go by like it was meaningless.

“The funeral was nice.” I heard her say, after too many clicks had sounded on the clock.

“It was.”

“You know, you should be happy. Well, as happy as you can be in this situation, I guess. It’s nice to know that people cared enough to say goodbye, you know, not everyone gets such a send-off.”

She spoke without facing me, her head tilted down and away, while her hands gripped the edge of the coffin she leaned

50

against. As much as I would have liked to, science had not progressed enough so that I, too, would be able to show my discomfort. The best I could do was to shift my eyes down to the white satin surrounding my body and then move them quickly up to fixate upon her back once more. Instead, mine sat within me, cold and steady like the early morning after a winter storm.

“I suppose.”

“I’m sorry. I just. I don’t know what to say.” She babbled on, filling the eerie stillness of the nearly empty funeral home with the life in her own voice. “I knew this day would come one day, for both of us, but I just don’t know what to say. I’m still mad at you, but, well. We’ve already spent 26 hours not saying something, and I don’t know where to start.”

I thought for a long time.

“You know, in my day, people would just talk to a grave marker, or out into the air, or to a hairbrush or something that the other person had lying around. Say whatever they needed to say, only nothing they said mattered to anyone but them because no one was really there. Lots of crying, but people would get to finish their own story the way they wanted it finished.

“I knew this day would come, between you and I, and I knew you’d stand over me and still not know what to say. I know that this ‘Second Goodbye’ thing that they can do now has stopped a lot of bad people from doing a lot of bad things, but I guess that doesn’t account for conversations that might be better off left dead.”

Her head jerked up and she turned her face toward mine. “Left dead?” she said.

“You know. Left unsaid.”

I saw her jaw clench as she gave me a hard look. “If I thought,” she started, “That it was better off following you to the grave,

Creative Writing

then I wouldn’t be here now. It’s been 26 years and you want to just let it die? You’re okay with me walking out of this door? You want the rest of my life to have this weighing on me?” her voice cracked.

“Well. Seems like you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just don’t,” She began, sputtering as the dam broke in her iron will, “know where to start! I have spent my whole life- yes, my whole life! Dealing with what you did to me. To my sister and brother. You left us! You left us alone and we had nothing and there was no one. I was fifteen and you left us! And for what? To chase him? To chase a drink?”

She stood up and slammed her hands on the side of the box.

“Samson was seven! Claire was only three! And you left us! How was I supposed to take care of them? I was only a child. We had no one. We had absolutely no one. It was just me. And,” she slammed her hand on the table in front of her to emphasize each word, “You. Just. Expect. Me. To. Leave. That. Unsaid?”

She straightened abruptly and disappeared from my line of vision. “I’m gonna be a minute,” She called to me, “I need to calm down.” The doors thudded closed behind her, and I heard the clack of her heels hit the tile beyond the door and fade quickly away.

Silence, again.

I thought about what would have happened to her if I could have stayed dead on that floor. How this conversation would have gone, circling around and around her head, rehearsed in front of the bathroom mirrors, and recited over my grave. She would have had practice. She would have had closure. Maybe she would have had a therapist that could have helped her.

But, no. Science gave her me. Science wanted to make sure people who were murdered could tell the tale of their death and in their solution lay ghosts that had to do in 40 hours what used

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to take years of healing.

I wished I could have shifted. I wish I could have felt uncomfortable, but it was like I didn’t even have a body to feel uncomfortable anymore. But my discomfort sat within me, in a place I couldn’t even reach, and the energy had no place to go.

Instead, I waited for her to come back, not sure what I wanted to say, or what I even could say.

Not sure what I should say.

Footsteps clomped and faded in the hallway and I could hear the doors in the other room opening and shutting. I guess they were setting up for another funeral in there.

I listened for the clack of her heels.

The clock ticked too many clicks. I wondered how many I had left, torn between listening to the most precious thing I had announcing its departure fraction by fraction, and believing that if it was all going to be over soon, it didn’t really matter now anyway.

The door to my room thumped gently shut. I was so wrapped up in listening to a second hand announce the passage of my stolen hours that I didn’t even notice her enter the room.

Her face appeared above me. She looked worn down, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed in a face that was tight with choked down grief.

We looked at one another as the clock tick-tick-ticked my last words away.

I think if I could have panicked I would have now. I knew I had to say something, and that it really was now or never.

“Death,” I said, not really knowing what I should do, “Death is a funny thing. It changes you; you know.” Not a muscle on her face

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moved.

“I’m sorry,” I continued, “I should not have made those choices.

I know they hurt you. But I got sober. I cleaned up. It took me a while, but I did it. And then I finished my degree and got a job as a counselor. I turned my life around.”

Her jaw clenched.

“I just. I know we had some good times, right? We had some good times. It wasn’t all bad, you know. I did my best with what I had, and I started out really good. I just… caught on to some bad things, you know how it is, and my life went down the drain, and I hurt you, too. And Sam. And Claire. I’m sorry for what you three went through.”

She stared unblinkingly at me for another eternity, silent as a graveyard.

“Has,“ she finally said, “there ever been a time when you didn’t make this about you? Yes, you were addicted, and you recovered, but what about us?” Her voice fell to a whisper as she struggled to contain what she held inside of her. “What about us?”

“I just don’t know. I don’t know what happened to you. I tried calling, but no one picked up. Once I cleaned myself up, I tried calling.” I offered.

“You called three times, 9 years after you left. It’s not what I would call effort.” She ground out through her teeth.

She stood in silence while clock ticked my time away, her eyes pointed at the floor, her fists clenched in her hands.

I didn’t know how to make her forgive me. I could see that she wanted to hear something that could make her forgive me, but I didn’t know what. I just knew I wasn’t getting it right.

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“And he left me anyway, you know.” I added.

Her whole body became stiff for a moment, and then she laughed and sighed deep in her chest.

“Unbelievable. After all these years, and after being sober for so long, you still just don’t care about us. Three times, and then you gave up? And I’m supposed to, what, feel sorry for you, because he left you?”

I hesitated. “I was… scared.” I faltered. I didn’t have much breath left. You know, it felt almost alive when I started, apart from the nothing-numbness, but the less time I had the more dead I felt.

“I was ashamed. I was ashamed to see you and I was ashamed to hear from you. I didn’t know what you thought of me, I just knew it wasn’t good. And I didn’t know what to do. So I called you the first time, and you didn’t pick up. And I called you again, but you didn’t pick up then either. It was so hard to pick up that phone a third time, but I did it. I did it anyway. And I called you. And you didn’t pick up. And I told myself, ‘well, they must be done with you anyway.’ I went back to school. I became a drug counselor.

I tried to help others so they wouldn’t do this to themselves or to their children, either. I tried to help people so they wouldn’t make my mistakes.”

Her jaw relaxed a bit, replaced by the tension of her furrowed brow. She looked to the left, away from my face.

“So you… repented?”

I thought about this. I liked the sound of it.

“I think I did.”

She shook her head and let out a small, bewildered laugh.

“Ok, mom. I guess that’s as good as I’m getting.”

“I hope it was good enough. I love you,” I said.

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“Sure mom. I’m sure it will be, one day.”

And we sat in silence while the second clicked like a counter for the rest of the night.

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INTRO TO FILM

INTRO TO FILM INTRO TO FILM

Reflection Paper: Within Our Gates

By Jodie Shank

Within Our Gates has everything a good movie needs and more. It has action, suspense, romance, adventure, violence and a seemingly happily ever after for our main character Sylvia.

I think this movie must have been so far ahead of its time, audiences must have been in absolute awe of it. I’m almost glad that I sat through Body and Soul so that I have a frame of reference to compare the two. Within Our Gates was a million times better, so much so that it is surprising they were both made

by Oscar Micheaux.

For its time, the editing techniques were impressive; I thoroughly enjoyed the manipulation of time employed by Micheaux with the use of flashbacks and memories. I don’t know if it was deliberate but after Sylvia gets hit by the carriage saving the child, she starts getting flash backs. The first is when meeting Mrs. Warwick the philanthropist; she has a fond memory of Piney Woods School. Dr. Vivian is shown daydreaming about Sylvia and he flirting, and another time Sylvia is shown thinking about him. At the end of the film as cousin Alma is confessing to Dr. Vivian and then telling Sylvia’s whole back story of the Landry family and the Gridstones; it is told in non chronological order before going back to present time. This use of multiple timelines really enables the film to cover a much larger stretch of time and give very important details of Sylvia’s character and how far she has come.

Sylvia is an amazingly well fleshed out character for a silent movie. The turmoil we see her going through over the course of the movie is intense. She gets choked out by a man she was going to marry because he saw her in a room with another man that was clearly harassing her just after she deflected the attention of another creep even as her cousin was betraying her. She returns to her home in the south just to lose her job, travels north again to get robbed and run over. We learn her tragic backstory of abandonment, personal gains against all odds

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funded by an absentee, violent father, learn her loving family is unjustly tortured and murdered. She showed a great deal of resilience and strength while maintaining a conviction to help other people of color receive an education she was blessed to get.

I thought that the depiction of class was interesting in this film in that it never seemed to be a focus, just another element in the story. I couldn’t help but compare it to Body and Soul where class was another character. Sylvia is always well dressed and able to travel, she stays with her cousin Alma, who has a nice home, and she is pursued by a man (Dr. Vivian) who is a professional. Even her childhood home with the Landrys is depicted as very simple but clean and comfortable and having what the family needed. Yes, the school is lacking the funds it needs to stay open but Sylvia is rather easily able to shift from class to class in order to obtain the money they need. Her visiting the rich Mrs. Warwick seems quite easy for her and they appeared comfortable with each other. Maybe this is in part because Sylvia was born to a rich family, the Gridstones and although she doesn’t know it, it does afford her some ease in straddling both those worlds.

I seem to be drawn to really looking at how women are portrayed in these older movies because I have an assumption that they will be depicted as helpless ninnies that need men to guide their every step. This is so not the case with Sylvia; she is a strong, independent, educated, worldly woman who is in as complete control of her life as that time allowed, and I love to think that she was a great inspiration for lots of young Black girls that saw this movie when it was shown in theaters.

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INTRO TO LITERATURE

INTRO TO LITERATURE

INTRO TO LITERATURE

Is Millay the ‘Lonely Tree’ in Winter (line 9)

By Emily Penner

ENG 112, Introduction to Literature “Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet know its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone” (Line 9-12) In these lines from “What Lips my Lips Have Kissed,, and Where, and Why,” I believe Millay is comparing her heart to the lonely tree in winter and her past lovers to the birds. A tree in the dead of winter has nothing—it sheds it leaves and is bare; this could correlate to her arms, having no one to hug and hold. In the spring, trees rapidly produce new growth and become shelter and home to many animals. In this context, if Millay compared herself to the tree, perhaps she felt she provided love, affection, and companionship to the men she has met in her life. She seems to be confused, alone and just pondering her life. If she has met all these men and given so much of herself to them, how could she possibly be sad and all by herself tonight?

Most birds go South for the winter but not the entire flock at once; it happens slowly and most of the time we are oblivious until one day we just all of a sudden notice that the cardinals, blue jays, finches, and little chickadees are no longer dancing and jumping around the trees or feeders anymore. I think Millay shares this feeling but applies it to her lovers. I bet at one time she had many men interested in her and she was free to choose which one she wanted to spend time with and somewhere along the line, not all at once, but one by one—like the birds, she finds herself alone, like a tree in winter—empty.

“I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.” (Line 13-14)

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It seems the author associates her worth with her past relationships that have apparently all failed, much like how in the dead of winter, we yearn for the warm sunny summer days.

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Little Man & If the Search for Identity is Not a Competition, Who Wins?

By Ralph Atwater

Assignment: We were given a few options for this essay assignment. One was to write a short story that involved two characters from two different works we had read interacting with each other, followed by an essay analyzing our story. Attention to accurate characterization and context was encouraged. I chose characters from Dagoberto Gilb’s short story, “Uncle Rock,” and Richard Blanco’s poem, “Queer Theory: According to My Grandmother,” so those works may be of interest when reading my story/essay.

Little Man Erick flinched as the wind blew the screen door shut behind him. He knew he should have said goodbye to his mother.

He’d been getting better at that lately. He almost stuck his head back in, but he didn’t want to be late on the first day at his new school, either. He briefly sent a silent promise to God that he would make it up to her when he got home, and was on his way.

The walk was shorter to the high school, which had seemed unfair last year but this year seemed perfectly just. He tried keeping his head up high as he walked — dignified. He felt his curls being ruffled by the wind, but imagined it made him look cool and adventurous. He wondered if he might catch up with Albert on the way. Not that he cared. He hadn’t spoken to Albert in months.

He reached the schoolyard alone, pockets of adolescents scattered here and there. He wasn’t really late, of course.

Nowhere near it. He’d left plenty early so he could scope out the place, make sure he didn’t get lost looking for classes. He was always careful to avoid getting into any trouble — it was one thing to be scolded or punished if you were one of the rowdier boys, but if you were shy it was unbearable.

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He hardly glanced around before slipping into the stale air of the school lobby. He was just squinting at a small sign listing the room numbers of the left hallway when a taller boy crashed into him, nearly flattening him to the ground.

“Sorry,” the boy said, but the laughter in his voice said he wasn’t all that sorry. Erick merely nodded his forgiveness. For some reason, the boy didn’t simply move on with his antics — instead he stared Erick directly in the eye until Erick felt strange and looked away. “You a freshman?” the boy finally asked.

Erick nodded again, though he instantly wished he had lied. He’d heard stories about people doing terrible things to freshmen.

“Oh man, good luck,” the boy said. “This place can be a nightmare.” He paused and shuddered, as if remembering a private nightmare of his own. “Actually, if you don’t have any friends here already, I could maybe be your tour guide-slashbodyguard. I’m a junior.” He grinned.

Erick sized the boy up. He was tall, but in a flimsy sort of way.

Erick almost had to laugh at the idea of him offering any sort of protection. But there was something sincere and gentle about him, despite the earlier crash, and Erick knew how rare that could be. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Okay?” said the boy. He reached a friendly arm out as if to put it around Erick’s shoulder, but flinched slightly as he seemed to think better of it. He stuck a hand out instead to shake, which Erick cautiously accepted.

“We better get going if I’m gonna show you all around before the bell,” the boy said, a bit louder for some reason. “Come on!”

He started to practically jog down the hallway in front of them, and Erick followed, struggling to keep up without running so he wouldn’t get told off. He shook his head silently to himself. This kid was a little odd. But Erick didn’t mind that so much. He was maybe a little odd, too.

Luckily, they managed to complete their tour just after the early bell rang. Erick found his way to homeroom in time with no problem. He sat through two periods of teachers tripping over his last name and telling him to cover his books with brown paper.

When the final bell rang at the end of English class, the teacher

Intro to Literature

had to shout over the sounds of students zipping and fastening bags, scooting out chairs, and thumping textbooks on desks: “Anyone who’s interested in auditioning for West Side Story can sign up outside the auditorium this week!” Erick thought he might have been the only one who heard her.

He had a ten minute break before his next class, but he had nothing much to do for ten minutes, so he wandered by the auditorium. He wasn’t going to sign up. Just curious. As it turned out, Albert was there with a few other kids from their class.

“Hey, it’s too bad Erick doesn’t speak English too well, or he could be in the play, too. Aren’t you Puerto Rican, Erick?” a girl named Missy said when she saw him.

Erick wasn’t Puerto Rican. He was Mexican. He didn’t mention this, though. “I can speak English,” he said. His face felt slightly hot.

“Oh. Right. But I mean, you’re really quiet,” Missy said. Erick looked over her shoulder at Albert, who shrugged.

“Hey, little man!” a voice called out suddenly. It was the tall boy from that morning. Erick felt a sense of relief — if he had someone with him who was noisy, maybe they could balance each other out.

“What’s going on?” the boy asked. Erick made a small gesture towards the sign-up sheet taped to the wall. Albert and the others moved along, unsure how to carry on conversation now that an upperclassman was on the scene. “West Side Story, huh?” The boy’s brown eyes lit up. “Are you into theatre, then?”

Erick hesitated. The answer was no, not really, but something about what Missy had said was bothering him. “Are you?” he asked instead.

The boy bit his lip. “I, uh… yeah, kind of. I like it. But…” he trailed off.

“You should audition,” Erick said. I’d come and see you, he didn’t say.

“Nah,” the boy said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I could.”

Erick looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. It was usually a good way to get the other person to keep talking.

“I just… it takes up a lot of time, and I need to keep my grades up for college. And my family’s kind of—” The bell rang again.

“Hey, see you later, little man. I gotta run,” the boy said with a

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tiny wave.

Erick shifted his bag on his shoulder, about to head to his history class, when a strange idea possessed him. He quickly spun on his heels to face the sign-up sheet again. He was hardly aware of what he was doing as the pen in his hand looped and scratched across the paper. Then he spun around again, took a deep breath, and walked briskly to class.

He took care to shut the screen door carefully behind him when he got home. At least I’ll have something interesting to talk about, he thought.

The next morning, the boy was waiting for him by the gate when he got there. “Hey, little man,” he said. “Did you sign up for the musical auditions?”

Erick glanced around. He didn’t want anyone to hear them, but he wasn’t sure why. Finally, he nodded. “Did you?” he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

The boy shook his head, flushing slightly. “I told you,” he said.

“I don’t think I can.”

Erick had thought about this last night. It didn’t make sense to him — he didn’t know the boy well, but he seemed to be relatively outgoing and put together, and he liked theatre. The excuse about homework seemed lame. “Why not?” he asked after a moment. “I mean… why not really?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “I…” he started, then was quiet.

“Why does it matter?”

Now Erick was taken aback. He had assumed that they were friends now, and friends take an interest in what the other does, right? Did there have to be any kind of deeper meaning? “I’m doing it and I don’t even like musicals,” he said. It was a nonanswer to a question he didn’t want asked.

“What?” the boy said, baffled. “Then why do it? You trying to impress a girl or something?”

Erick looked down at the gravel crunching beneath their feet.

He hated the heavy feeling his tongue got whenever somebody asked him a question. The effort it took him to answer was more physical than mental. “Some people think I don’t know how to talk,” he said slowly.

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When he finally made himself look up, the boy was nodding at him. As if he understood. One of them sighed, and Erick wasn’t even sure which one.

“Okay,” the boy said.

Erick raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay,” the boy said again, “I’ll sign up for the fucking thing.

But God help me if they try and give me a part.”

Over the course of that week, the boy cheerfully handed out advice to Erick about how to land a part in a musical. “Not that I’ve ever done it,” he would add, “but I know a little bit about it, anyway.”

Erick was grateful, but there wasn’t much he could put into practice at school without prematurely humiliating himself. He decided to invite him over after school on Friday.

“Sure,” the boy said. “Better your place than mine.” Erick didn’t ask what he meant.

Erick lived in an apartment, so they couldn’t be too loud, but the boy insisted that the key to musical theatre was “projecting.”

He said a lot of stuff about diaphragms and chest voices and how you were supposed to breathe. Then he sang one of the songs from the show. He was clearly a talented singer.

“You’re good,” Erick told him.

The boy rolled his eyes, but his face was flushed. “Whatever,” he said. “Now you try it.”

Erick screwed his eyes shut, trying to ready himself. He’d never sang for anyone before. After a minute, he realized he was taking too long.

“You’re gonna have to sing to audition, little man,” the boy told him. “If you can’t sing in your own house, how can you sing in front of people on stage?”

“I know,” Erick said. He took another moment. “Okay.” And he went for it.

His voice cracked a little on the first couple notes, and he could sense the boy suppressing a laugh. After a while, though, he started to get the hang of it. He kept his eyes closed, which he thought probably looked stupid, but it was better than watching someone watching him. He was surprised at how clear the notes

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sounded, coming from his chest like the boy had said. Once he was finished, he opened his eyes again. The boy looked like he was about to say something, but then there was a knock on the door.

“Erick?” It was Roque. The door swung gently open. Roque stood in the doorway along with Erick’s mother, who was squeezing his hand tightly. Her makeup was smudged just a little.

Erick’s heart raced. Was something wrong?

“Was that you singing?” his mother asked.

Erick looked at his mother. He looked at Roque. He looked at the boy, who sat perched on the corner of his bed. “Yes,” he said.

His mother’s free hand leapt up to her mouth, but she was smiling.

“You have a real nice voice,” Roque said, and Erick’s mother nodded vigorously. Erick turned to his friend. He was nodding, too.

It was funny. People acted like singing was so hard, but it was easier than talking. Erick practiced over and over at home before his audition, usually by himself. He made himself get louder and louder, sometimes going for a walk near the bridge so he wouldn’t disturb anyone. After only a few days, he felt ready. He told the boy as much on Tuesday, the first day of auditions.

“You’re right,” the boy said. “You are ready. I think you’re a shoe-in.”

“What about you?” Erick asked.

The boy looked at his shoes. “I dunno,” he said. “I mostly signed up so you wouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“But you did want to,” Erick said. “Didn’t you?”

The boy still didn’t look up. “I dunno,” he said again. “Do you think… I don’t mean any offense, you know… but do you think being in the musical is kind of… queer?”

Erick studied him for a while. “Why?” he asked.

“Well… I just think… it’s kind of girly, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not saying you’re… you know. I mean—” He trailed off as he saw Erick shaking his head. “If I can sing and dance without turning into a fag,” Erick said, “so can you.” It was probably the longest sentence he’d spoken in a long time.

The boy laughed unhappily. “Okay,” he said.

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“Okay?” Erick said.

Erick knew he’d nailed the audition. The three teachers present had all been impressed by his singing, and he’d even read the lines almost perfectly. He asked the boy afterwards how his had gone and got a shrug in reply.

The cast was posted by the end of the day Friday, which the boy said was pretty quick, but Erick had felt impatient all week.

At the dismissal bell, he walked as quickly as he could to the auditorium doors. He spotted his friend already there, leaning dejectedly against the wall as other auditionees milled around him.

Erick was kind enough not to ask him what was wrong. He simply assumed the boy hadn’t gotten a part.

He scanned the list for his own name. He looked past Tony, past Riff, past Chino, past Bernardo… finally, over halfway down the sheet, he saw it. Erick Flores………………… Pepe. It was not a big role. But at least he had a name.

He made his way over to his friend. “I got a part,” he said.

“Pepe.”

The boy nodded. “That’s great,” he said.

“Okay?” Erick said.

The boy bit his lip again. “I got a part, too,” he said.

Erick looked at him, and something suddenly occurred to him.

“I don’t know your name,” he said.

The boy told him.

Erick’s eyes widened. “But that means you’re…”

“I can’t do it,” the boy said. “It’d be the end of me.”

“You have to,” Erick told him.

“No. I already wrote Miss Jamison a note saying I can’t do it.

She wasn’t in her room.”

Erick blinked. “I don’t get you,” he said.

“That’s okay,” the boy said, forcing a grin. “I don’t, either.” He shrugged his bag onto his shoulder and pushed through the door.

Erick tagged along.

“Wanna come over again?” Erick asked him.

“Nah, little man,” the boy said. “My grandma’s picking me up today.” He looked embarrassed as he gestured toward the front parking lot. “Break a leg, though.”

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“Okay,” Erick said.

If the Search for Identity Is Not a Competition, Who Wins?

Writing about two characters from separate works meeting and interacting was something I felt somewhat prepared for. As a teenager, and even into my twenties, I was immersed in the world of fanfiction, and was always the type to fret about keeping the characters’ “canon” details perfectly intact. Glancing over the list of poems and short stories I had to choose from for this assignment, I felt immediately that it had to be Erick (from Dagoberto Gilb’s “Uncle Rock”) and the speaker of Richard Blanco’s poem, “Queer Theory: According to My Grandmother.”

As I wrote about these two boys attempting to bond over a school play, I specifically tried to maintain three elements from their respective works of origin: first, the namelessness of the boy from “Queer Theory”; second, Erick’s habitual hesitation to speak; and third, Erick’s journey toward embracing a softer form of masculinity, and the boy’s reluctant resistance of it.

While reading Blanco’s poem, it is perhaps natural to assume the speaker is Blanco himself. This very well may have been the case in Blanco’s mind, too, when he wrote it. However, throughout the poem, the boy never takes an active role, but instead is merely receiving his grandmother’s lectures. The grandmother, meanwhile, never calls him by name. This lends a sense of the “Gay Everyman” to the speaker — anyone who either is or knows a gay man can relate his experience to their own. Many people could even insert their own name if they wanted to. In fact, according to the grandmother, we know more about who this boy is not than about who he is — “no Indian” [32], “no girl” [34], “not unisex” [44]. It is only in the poem’s concluding lines that she concedes to the only identity of his we can be sure of, the one she most seems to want to keep under wraps: “you will not look like a goddamn queer, / I’ve seen you . . . / even if you are one” [70]. The slur used is the closest thing we get to the boy’s name. It was tempting to give this boy a real name in my story, and I even considered naming him Richard. In

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the end, though, I felt this would remove the sense of fluidity he had in the original poem.

Though both the boy and his new friend Erick talk substantially more in my story than they did in their original works, silence is still relevant. In Erick’s case, he finds it difficult to speak in most situations. This is likely due to some form of anxiety or other emotional issue, rather than any actual speech or language impairments. “When he was in bed, where he sometimes prayed, he thanked God for his mom, who he loved, and he apologized to Him for not talking to her, or to anyone, really, except his friend Albert. . .” [Gilb, 5]. However, many of the people around him assume that because he is Mexican, he is quiet because he can’t speak English. “He never said anything when the men were around, and not because of his English, even if that was the excuse his mother gave for his silence” [2]. However, he finds an easier way to express himself through his surprising talent for singing. While speaking requires a lot of effort, singing comes naturally. He even has to go outside because he is being too loud — a major contrast from his usually quiet nature when expected to speak. His mother and Roque are surprised and touched when they hear him sing, and his mother even becomes emotional.

This may be because Erick is continuing to grow into himself and his identity. Although he is a bit shaky at first, he has finally found his voice.

In “Uncle Rock,” Erick struggles to find positive male role models as his mother goes through a series of relationships with men. He senses that these men do not truly care about him or his mother, and he in turn resents them.

Then he’d wink at Erick. Such a fine-looking boy! How old is he, eight or nine? Erick wasn’t even small for an eleven-year-old.

He tightened his jaw then, slanted his eyes up from his plate at his mom and not the man, definitely not this man he did not care for [Gilb, 1].

Erick even begins to resent men as a whole: “He was away from all the men. Even though a man had given the TV to them” [2]. He withdraws from them and, by extension, from his mother.

When his mother first becomes involved with Roque, Erick is uneasy and reflects on how Roque is different from the other men in his life. “He did want to move, but he wished that it

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weren’t because of Uncle Rock. . . There wasn’t much to criticze except that he was always too willing and nice, too generous . . .

He combed and parted his hair neatly. He didn’t have a buzzcut like the men who didn’t like kids” [7]. Despite, or perhaps because of, the way Roque challenges Erick’s negative opinion of men, Erick resents him, too, at first. However, at the end of the story, he discards a note from a baseball player that was intended for his mother, and we hear him speak to her and Roque for the first time: “By the time he reached his mom and Roque, the note was already somewhere on the asphalt parking lot. Look, he said in a full voice. They all signed the ball.” This implies that not only is Erick willing to accept Roque over the other men who have pursued his mother, he also may be accepting that there is more than one way to be a man. In my own story, I felt that Erick using an artistic way to express himself could be his way of “proving himself” as a young man. He has no prior interest in musicals but he feels overlooked by his classmates and decides to rise to the challenge they inadvertently give him — despite being in a medium not typically thought of as manly, the musical is a show of strength on his part. By contrast, his friend — “the boy” — has a particular interest in musical theatre. He knows the ins and outs of it, all the songs and the techniques and even the slang. However, he resists auditioning and eventually gives up his part in the show because he does not want to be perceived as gay. This is in keeping with his “forbidden interests” in Blanco’s poem: “Never dance alone in your room: . . . all musicals — forbidden” [55-58]. Musicals here are used as a (well-known) symbol of homosexuality and gay culture. Erick cannot understand this — he is not gay, and does not realize that his friend is. For him, the musical fulfills his desire for an outlet to explore a non-traditional masculinity, which he has been introduced to at home by Roque. For the boy, the musical is tempting yet threatening, as his grandmother’s influence has led him to fear and question those same forms of masculinity.

Ultimately, this drives a wedge between them as they feel pulled in opposite directions.

In my readings of both “Uncle Rock” and “Queer Theory: According to My Grandmother,” I found that both pieces had a subtle sense of humor, a young boy overwhelmed by the adults

Intro to Literature

in his life, and a sense of inner conflict about masculinity and relationships. All of these were things that not only matched up to each other, but to my own experiences as well. I enjoyed exploring the world that brought them together.

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PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY

PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY

PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY

Benefits of Agricultural Biodiversity for Farmers and Surrounding Ecosystems

By Nicholas Hershbine Research Paper Biodiversity is crucial to the health of ecosystems around the planet. One area where this is particularly evident is agriculture.

Problems with disease, pests, and nutrition can be traced to a lack of biodiversity in crops as well as in soil and livestock.

Humans may only cultivate a few hundred species for food production, believing that the countless millions of others are useless to them, but the truth is that even the species they do care about depend on an enormous interlinking web of diverse species stretching around the world (Chivian & Bernstein, 2008, p. 330). The ecosystems, and the farmers themselves, affected by agriculture would certainly benefit from an approach that highlights biodiversity (Chivian & Bernstein, 2008, p. 331).

The effects of biodiversity can be understood best by realizing that agricultural systems are a type of ecosystem. Thinking in this way requires consideration of the complex interplay between all the different species of organisms – including plants, invertebrate animals, vertebrate animals, and bacteria – and physical factors such as soil, air, moisture, and light, just as in natural ecosystems.

The term ‘agroecosystem’ refers to this interplay in agriculture.

This broader view of agriculture allows an ecologic appraisal where the role of biodiversity in the vast web of interactions can be better understood.

However, the relationships between biodiversity, ecologic health, and agricultural productivity are not simple. Grace et al.

(2016) have shown that there exists a complex interrelationship between biodiversity and productivity, which cannot be explained without the consideration of multiple other factors of the ecosystem, such as soil and surrounding macroclimate. Thus,

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while there were direct connections between the two factors, both species richness and productivity were also influenced to a high degree by many external factors.

Grace et al. (2016) found that the major factors leading to productivity included rather obvious factors such as resources, climate, and soil fertility. More interestingly, biodiversity also possessed a strong positive linear relationship with productivity.

This increase in productivity did not level off at a certain level of biodiversity but continued to rise as species richness increased.

Thus, there is good reason to cultivate biodiversity in agriculture, but how can biodiversity be maintained?

Biodiversity as species richness was found to be maintained and positively influenced primarily by these factors: soil suitability, sufficient resources, species pools, and heterogeneity (Grace et al., 2016). Negative influences included resource reduction, disturbances, and an increase in total biomass, which leads to shading. Therefore, it is important to fertilize to maintain the resources, prune out overshadowing biomass, and introduce diverse species. Also, no-till practices cut down on the soil disturbance and allow for higher production and richness. These procedures can increase genetic diversity in populations.

The most obvious feature of biodiversity is heterogeneous DNA in populations. Genetic diversity within a species is one of the most important aspects of biodiversity in the agricultural context. Varied alleles of genes can produce varying traits, so that phenotypes of the population will be diverse. Some of these traits may be beneficial, some detrimental, and some neutral and not noticeable. Some of these alleles will be passed on to later generations, but they will be mixed so that the offspring don’t necessarily possess the same combinations (Urry, Cain, Wasserman, Minorsky, & Reece, 2017). Therefore, the offspring will (probably) have a different overall phenotype than the parents, which may be better or worse than the parents’.

However, if all the parents possess very similar genomes, the offspring will also be less varied and be very similar to the parents. Thus, with a less diverse gene pool, there will be less diverse traits, and more predictability of the offspring.

In agriculture, there seems to be an advantage to having predictable and consistent crop traits, such as large fruits and

Principles of Biology

resistance to specific pests or diseases. This is why so much of the heterogeneity has been bred out of domesticated plants and animals. The biodiversity of agroecosystems around the world has been greatly reduced because of this honing down of the gene pool (Raven, Evert, & Eichhorn, 1999). Crops tend to have much more consistent traits than their wild relatives, thus usually producing much higher yields of food and behaving predictably.

In the short term it seems obviously beneficial and economically lucrative.

However, in the grander scheme of things, new and unpredictable challenges may arise – such as disease mutation, species invasion, or changes in climate – and very homogeneous populations would stand little chance of being able to adapt (Raven et al., 1999). There is a good chance in this type of population that alleles helpful to survival in the new conditions may simply not exist in the population. As a result, the entire population may be severely decreased, or even wiped out completely.

With genetic diversity, on the other hand, comes the chance that some allele lies dormant in the population, which, when the need arises, can allow the organisms carrying it to thrive in the new conditions (Raven et al., 1999). Then the population as a whole could adapt and pull through the crisis with little longterm damage. Thus, there are important benefits to a diverse gene pool in any ecosystem, including agroecosystems.

Agriculture has become so widespread and expansive throughout the world that croplands and pastures under direct human management make up nearly half of the landmass of the Earth (Chivian & Bernstein, 2008). This means that agroecosystems can have a large impact on the other, more natural, ecosystems of the world, and attempts to improve or develop agricultural methods must consider the effects that these changes will have on the rest of the world (Tscharntke, Klein, Kruess, Steffan-Dewenter & Thies, 2005, p. 858).

Agriculture has already produced many profound effects on the environment. In fact, Tscharntke et al. (2005) insist that large-scale intensified agriculture and forest mismanagement are the leading causes of biodiversity loss on a global scale.

Modern mechanized agriculture relies heavily on the creation

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of vast monocultures, which increase yield many times, but can have a drastic impact on the surrounding ecosystems. As discovered by Donald et al. (2001), for example, the cereal yield increase in Europe, which nearly tripled from 1960 to 2000, is closely correlated with the sharp decline of bird species diversity (qtd. in Tscharntke et al, 2005, p. 858). This is a result of the agroecosystem’s homogeneity undermining the previous interactions in the ecosystem, but there are other ways that modern agriculture harms the environment.

The vast spread of agriculture has also decreased global biodiversity simply by taking over the natural habitats of native species, which can lead to endangerment or extinction of those species (Gutierrez-Arellano & Mulligan, 2018). Even fragmentation of these natural habitats into smaller disconnected pieces have drastic effects on ecosystem function, and thus, lead to decreased biodiversity. The International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN) estimates that habitat destruction has contributed to 73% of the over 1,000 species that have become extinct or endangered in the last few hundred years (Urry et al., 2017). This increasingly rapid loss of biodiversity is quickly becoming a sever threat, but what can be done about it?

Conservation is an effective and essential method, but sustainable agricultural practices must also be adopted to ensure lasting global ecologic health. Organic farming is promising in its ability to enhance biodiversity in agroecosystems (Bengtsson, Ahnstrom, & Weibull, 2005). Bengtsson et al. (2005) found that species richness was 30% higher on average in organic farms compared to conventional farms. Also, consistent with the Grace et al. (2016) model, production was found to be significantly greater and the total biomass averaged 50% more, though this included weeds, which also increased compared to conventional farms. There was no significant change in pest population, but predatory species did increase, and it is believed that there is less potential for pest ravaging of organically managed farms.

However, there is much variety in organic farming methods and some are more effective than others. LaCanne and Lundgren (2018) investigated an aspect of regenerative farming of corn, which is similar to organic methods, but more intensely directed

Principles of Biology

toward the rebuilding of a healthy agroecosystem. These methods, besides their ecologic value, were found to be also more economically lucrative to the farmers. This was in part due to the much lower expenses owing to their independence from costly fertilizers and insecticides. Also, each field had several integrated functions, such as growing several different crops there at once, and using it to graze livestock on. This provided the farmer with maximum profits per acre and a diversified stream of income. Thus, though corn yield was lower than conventional farms, regenerative farms were “nearly twice as profitable” (LaCanne & Lundgren, 2018).

Careful nurturing of biodiversity, then, appears to be both profitable for the farmer, and beneficial to the surrounding ecosystems. There is much work to be done in this area and great barriers and oppositions that must be overcome, but there is hope for the future. Regenerative methods may require better planning and more labor-intensive practices, causing difficulty with the commercial-scale production that is increasingly demanded. But many small farms have already adopted these methods, and the trend is spreading. The greatest encouragement to the cause of protecting global biodiversity is simply that the sever biodiversity crisis has become widely recognized, many people are already working on ways to solve it. This is encouragement indeed.

Literature Cited Bengtsson, J., Ahnstrom, J. (2005). The effects of organic agriculture on biodiversity and abundance: a metaanalysis. Journal of applied ecology, 42, pp. 261–269. doi: 10.1111/j.1365-2664.2005.01005.x Chivian, E., & Bernstein, A. (2008). Sustaining life: How human health depends on biodiversity. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Grace, J. B., Anderson, T. M., Seabloom, E. W., Borer, E. T., Adler, P. B., Harpole, W. S., … Smith, M. D. (2016, January 21).

Integrative modelling reveals mechanisms linking productivity and plant species richness. Nature, 529. doi:10.1038/ nature16524

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Gutierrez-Arellano, C. & Mulligan, M. (2018). A review of regulation ecosystem services and disservices from faunal populations and potential impacts of agriculturalisation on their provision, globally. Nature Conservation, 30, pp. 1+. doi: 10.3897/natureconservation.30.26989 LaCanne, C. E., & Lundgren, J. G. (2018). Regenerative agriculture: merging farming and natural resource conservation profitably. Creative commons. doi:10.7717/ peerj.4428 Raven, P. H., Evert, R. F., & Eichhorn, S. E. (1999). Biology of plants (6th ed.). New York, NY: W.H. Freeman and Company.

Tscharntke, T., Klein, A. M., Kruess, A., Steffan-Dewenter, I., & Thies, C. (2005). Landscape perspectives on agricultural intensification and biodiversity – ecosystem service management. Ecology letters, 8, pp. 857-874. doi:10.1111/ j.1461-0248.2005.00782.x Urry, L. A., Cain, M. L., Wasserman, S. A., Minorsky, P. V., & Reece, J. B. (2017). Campbell biology (11th ed.). New York, NY: Pearson Education Inc.

Principles of Biology

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WELDING

WELDING WELDING

Organizational Factor

By Nick Scott

For WEL 222, Quality Assurance/Quality Control, we were instructed to create it as though it were clauses in our AWS D1.1 code book.

1.2 President Part A - General Responsibilities. This part covers the general responsibilities and performance of the acting President to our company.

Part B - Symbiosis. This part includes information regarding who the President works with and has jurisdiction to oversee in our company.  Part C - Integration of Responsibilities to Assure Quality. This part explains the integration and responsibilities of our President to assure quality in the company.

Part A General Responsibilities The President is the single most important factor to the internal control of liabilities within our company, and should be treated as such. The purpose of our president is to supervise and resolve any and all higher levels of thinking that might pertain to our company. The president shall oversee all our departments, and have the administrative power to make any changes he sees fit in the company at any time. Part B Symbiosis The President has the authority to work with any and all departments of our company, and should oversee the daily activities of finances and human resources. Any and all staff shall report to the President with information that may pertain to the

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prosperity of our company. The President may terminate (and/ or suspend) any person(s) that violates our company’s rules. The President may be available by appointment only, and shall be open to discussion with anyone in our company.

Part C Integration of Responsibilities to Assure Quality The president shall strive to prevent any and all dismay within our company to assure the success of any person(s) involved, and most importantly, our company. It is important that our company remains in production at all business hours, so any mishaps must be circumvented as soon as possible. All catastrophes shall be avoided, whereas any sort of tribulation could result in a lawsuit to our company. Any failures that may occur shall be dealt with immediately, with proper documentation and lists of person(s) involved. The President and QAQC manager in conformance with 1.3 shall be made aware of any violations, or potentially unsafe working conditions. All violations shall be marked, and documented accordingly for further inspection.

Principles of Biology

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2D ART

2D ART 2D ART

Lettuce Eat Untitled Lettuce Eat Lettuce Eat

By Lauren Chapman

Est. 2015

Lettuce Eat Lettuce Eat Est. 2015

Est. 2015

Sandwich Bar

Sandwich Bar

Lettuce Eat

Sandwich Bar

207-865-3721 LettuceEat.com 207-865-3721 LettuceEat@gmail.com LettuceEat.com 77 Maple Street LettuceEat@gmail.com Freeport ME, 04013 77207-865-3721 Maple Street LettuceEat.com Freeport ME, 04013

This had no official title butLettuceEat@gmail.com was branding for the sandwich shop “Lettuce Eat.� This was created for77my ART Maple Street112 2D Design class. The assignment was to first select a restaurant/food genre, based on the Freeport ME, 04013 names given, and create a logo fitting for the business. We would then take that logo and bring it onto business cards that would have to have good continuity with the logo and branding for the business.

Each part was a separate process and went through a sketching phase and several versions were made and then narrowed down to the best fitting one.

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What could’ve been

By Seth Gibbs Wh at

cou ld

‘ve been

This piece was made for my 2D design class. In this assignment I had to pick a song and use graphics, texture, and lines to give a feel of what the song is like, I had picked the song what could have been from Nine Inch Nails. The reason behind the song and the style was supposed to be spiraled out and just overall dark the song is dark and the reasoning hits home for me with it being a representation of the loss of my fiancée and how I felt after her death.

2D ART

Untitled

By Michaela Qualey

In 2-D ART we were instructed to create two different concert posters.

One poster had to be designed only using three colors, one of them being the color of the paper we were printing on. The other poster could be full color. Both of them had to be for the same artist.

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Potential

By Tristen AB Walkes

The aim of this assignment was to produce a surreal image by making a collage of separate images with “off” perspectives. I chose a “cosmic” theme and set the backdrop in space, with the centerpiece being a young girl holding a jar containing celestial objects. The girl’s pixels are scattered and recolored to resemble a star-scape with no precise form, and the jar (created by masking several images into the shape of a jar overlay) is made more vibrant so that the eyes travel upward to find the full shape of the girl. She is everything and the cosmos is in her hands.

2D ART

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CULINARY/INDUSTRIAL PHOTO

CULINARY/INDUSTRIAL PHOTO

CULINARY/INDUSTRIAL PHOTO

Brandon Pelletier Photographer

Students of Chef Nathan Scott’s Culinary Arts I class practice the basic of yeast bread baking.

Chef Nathan Scott directs Jennifer Allen in finding the necessary ingredients.

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Kassidy Brown Photographer

Brenda Bernier measures her ingredients before mixing.

Culinary/Industrial Photography

Collin Roberts Photographer

Samuel Gresko prepares brioche a tete.

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Angela Patterson Photographer

Sous Chef Kara van Emmerik checks on bread as it bakes.

Culinary/Industrial Photography

Collin Roberts Photographer

Michael Joslyn moves his braided brioche to the baking sheet

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JP Moors Photographer

Vincent Walko sprinkles salt on top of his Vienna rolls before baking.

Culinary/Industrial Photography

Kassidy Brown Photographer

A finished braid of brioche if removed from the oven.

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COMPUTER SCIENCE

COMPUTER SCIENCE

COMPUTER SCIENCE

CST Student build R2D2

By Calvin Andrews & Desiray Howes

At the request of the EMCC Computer Science Department, myself and my classmate, Desiray Howes, have embarked on a project to display the possibilities of 3D printing. Feeling ambitious and armed with years of skills in scale model building, we decided that we would 3D print a life-sized replica of R2D2, the famous droid from the Star Wars series. I contacted members of the scale modeling community to acquire as many accurate files as I could.

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We then modified and created what we needed for files to print an entire replica. Using a bank of 4 Flashforge Finder 3D printers and thousands of meters of PLA filament, we started printing what will end up being over 1200 pieces to be assembled into the lovable 4 foot tall droid. There were definitely lessons to be learned about 3D printing. We ran into problems with prints not sticking to the bed, pieces that curled up almost into balls, and clogged extruders.

Through trial and error and by reaching out to an exploding online 3D printing community, we have handled our issues and learned how to make quality printed pieces in a number of different materials. As of this writing, the project is not complete, but we are making great progress. Once he is complete, our school’s very own life-sized R2D2 will make an incredible display and a testament to team work and technology.

Computer Science

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INTRO TO ILLUSTRATION

INTRO TO ILLUSTRATION

INTRO TO ILLUSTRATION

Decay

By Brandon Pelletier

New Active Hybrid X6

This is a power statement. When you’re behind the wheel of something as bold as the X6, you’re not going to pass by unnoticed. From the coupe-like roofline to the chiseled profile and optional 20” V-spoke wheels, this Sports Activity Coupe® sends a message of power and prestige. How you customize it – and how you drive it – is up to you.

You’ve Got It. Flaunt It.

This design was for a BMW Advertisement that would be used as a Direct Mailer in Intro to Page Layout and Design. Paying close attention to brand styles and design to create a print ready design.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY

Contrast In The Harbor

By Tyler Parrish

In this assignment, the objective was to capture an overall well balanced photo. I think I’ve done a good job presenting this high-contrast scene. This photo was taken in Belfast, Maine.

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Pantry

By Brandon Pelletier

This photograph was for the Industrial Photography assignment in Commercial Photography. Taking photographs of people on the job and the environment in which they work in.

Photography

Larger Aperature 3.5

By Lauren Chapman

The assignment was to photograph ten different objects with ten different aperture settings. This was changing the depth of field so that either everything was in focus or only the object was in focus and the background was blurry.

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Caution

By Destinee Duprey

For this assignment we were learning all about composition. The assignment was to take a minimum of twenty photos, but in doing so, we had to play around with composition in various ways.

This photo is unedited.

Photography

Afternoon Rocket

By Kierstin Hand

I was In Jodi Renshaw’s Introduction to Photography. I had originally learned the basics of photography Hancock County Technical Center (HCTC). I was blown away on how much more I learned from Jodi’s class!

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PHOTOSHOP

PHOTOSHOP PHOTOSHOP

Poster

By Trung Ho

For DGD 113 Intro to Photoshop we were assigned to create a selfportrait/autobiographical collage. I’m sure everyone has a dream for themselves; who they will become and what they will do. And so do I. When I was a little boy, I wanted to be a famous DJ. But now I am able to become a good graphic designer instead of becoming a famous DJ.

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Adding color to a black and white photo

By Destinee Duprey

For this assignment we had to find a high resolution black and white photo to use. Using blending modes, makes solid color layer fills, hue/saturation adjustment layers, gradients, and paint brush tools. At least three appropriate tools had to be used to colorize the chosen photo.

Photoshop

Biographical Image

By Michaela Qualey

Our Photoshop assignment was a biographical image/self portrait.

Using at least 5 high resolution images to create one Photoshop file.

We learned about selecting pieces of the images using the quick select tool, lasso, and the magic wand tool. At least one layer mask was needed while creating this project.

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The Final Project

By Cassie Thompson

This piece was created for my Photoshop final when I used every tool I learned from that class. I put together a scenic piece of my dog and I in a landscape setting. Everything in the picture was done in Photoshop.

Photoshop

Project 02

By Cassie Thompson

This piece was created using the cutout tool in Photoshop. I used a photo of my dog and cut out other images and placed them into the scene to create a dreamy looking setting.

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Project 06

By Cassie Thompson

This piece was a post card in my Photoshop class. I used multiple Photoshop tools to create a vintage postcard of Maine.

Photoshop

Revealed Nature

By Tristen AB Walkes

Students were tasked with finding a high resolution B&W photograph and recoloring it using tools discussed in the course, including brushes, fill layers and blending modes. I chose a close up shot of a rose and elected to fill it in with a vibrant red and green, and slightly less vibrant brown for the stem to deemphasize it from the petals and bud. I chose to almost completely removed the background with a deep purple and blended fill, as well as a vignette to further emphasize the flower.

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