LIT March 2017

LIT

P B S - H SA' S L I T E R A RY M AGA Z I N E

Women ISSUE NO. 2 MARCH 29, 2017

2 3 4 5 6 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

¶ DEBBIE KIM

¶ DARIUS SORRELLS

On What It Means To Be A Woman ¶ E X C E R P T S

6:57 ¶ P O E T R Y

Untitled ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

¶ 10TH GRADE ENGLISH

¶ J O S E LY N C A S T I L L O

¶ MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ

Women's History Month ¶ G R A T I T U D E

#5 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

¶ CINDY SOTO

¶ C R I S TA L RO S A S

1920 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

#11 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

¶ CHRISTIAN LOPEZ

¶ H E C T O R N AVA

#18 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

¶ MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ

Psychosis.02 ¶ N A R R A T I V E

#32 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

¶ ANONYMOUS

¶ DONNA GARCIA

Covergirls & Coverboys ¶ E S S A Y

Table of Contents

#4 ¶ P H O T O G R A P H Y

TABLE OF

CONTENTS

1

Dear Reader,

March. It's the month we learned in elementary school comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb, the month where the sky roars with rain and clouds to make way for the blooms and blossoms of weeks to come. It's also the month of March Madness, a college basketball tournament where anything goes—where Cinderella teams from the bottom of the bracket rocket to the top in a matter of milliseconds.

As English teachers, we are afflicted with the disease of seeing metaphors everywhere, and March's designation as Women's History Month is no exception. Just as the 31 days of this third month span the breadth of the human condition—its depths as well as its heights, its bitterness and joy, its unpredictability and steadiness—there are many ways to represent women in art because of the many ways we encounter women in life. In the pages that follow (and on the cover, which features student photography), you'll find both typical and atypical depictions of the Woman, including some that don't involve women at all. Enjoy the range she has to offer.

Sincerely, Elias Johansson-Miller & Debbie Kim 2 ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ LIT

covergirls & coverboys ANONYMOUS ¶ 10TH GRADE

I was a covergirl for a long time, or I still am. When you want people to know you are happy, fun and that you never have problems, everything is a lie deep inside, you know? 100 lies and 100 problems trapped inside you.

When you are a covergirl, you try to hide your feeling so that no one can see you crying because they are going to think or say that they going to feel bad for you. But deep inside of you, you know you don't want that.

I'm a covergirl because I'm always starving, trying to look beautiful, trying to get better in my life. I'm trying not to get hungry, always trying not to eat that much. Being perfect is my thing. I want people to like me, and I want them to think I'm perfect. I have friends who notice when I'm feeling down, and it is hard to hide it from them. They don't know that I don't eat that much.

For me, being a covergirl is like having pain, but you're trying to hide it with all the fake smiles and with acting happy all the time. But every time when I'm alone at my house, I cry.

I see that in my high school, it is really easy to see how many people are changing and becoming who they are not. I know you girls and I know you guys want to look like Barbie dolls. Guys can also be followers, wanting to be or behave like other guys. For both girls and guys, there are people who are going to tell you what to wear, how to look, what you should say, how to act. You gotta be sexy, you gotta be cute, and you gotta be sweet and nice.

But what does it matter if you lose sight of who you are?

Being a covergirl is not good thing. You should want to be yourself, even though you might also want to look good. Be yourself, be who you are, be the one who looks good without listening to what people say. When you want to be yourself, there are going to be haters. They're just jealous of who you are, only because they see you happy. Never let them bring you down. Forget the lies, forget the problems, forget everything. Start a new life, start eating, stop starving yourself.

I don't have to be a covergirl. I'm a girl who wants to be herself. I'm a girl who is happy. I'm a girl who studies hard. I'm a girl who can stop listening to people. The only thing I want is for people to see themselves as beautiful, not by being hard on themselves but by accepting themselves for who they are. ¶

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#32

MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ ¶ 10TH GRADE

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#18

CHRISTIAN LOPEZ ¶ 10TH GRADE

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psychosis.02

H E C TO R N AVA ¶ 11 T H G R A D E

August 1#, 2056 As soon as Denton gets his space suit on, he runs out into the elevator and pushes the third floor button—the round platform where the party takes place—and waits until the doors slide open. As he waits for the elevator to go down, he notices that the light flickers at the rate of his heart beat, quick and scared. The flickering soon dies off as the elevator reaches the third floor, and the doors slide open with a stutter. Denton, to his surprise, finds that everything is the same; the same music, people, decor, and party. With a confused and worried look on his face, he rushes over to Cecilia, who also looks the same, even drinking wine like before.

“Look who finally decided to get up. Had fun last—?” says Cecilia with a smirk before being interrupted by Denton.

“What is going on?” he says.

“What do you mean? It’s a party, don’t you see?” Cecilia says sarcastically.

“Yes, I see. But didn’t the party already happen? I mean I was here, you said the same thing, the captain then comes in, and there is this goo-like monster, and–” “Calm down, Denton,” says Cecilia, annoyed. “Tell me, what happened? Slowly.”

“Well, I went to fix some pipes because Callahan told me to, and then a weird... thing attacks me.”

“What was it?” Cecilia asks as she finishes her last sip.

“I don’t know, maybe some alien?”

“What?” Cecilia bursts into laughter. “There is no such thing as aliens, and even if there were, they wouldn’t be able to get to us here. We’re in the middle of nowhere.” She points out towards the enormous window to show the darkness.

“Yeah, but this thing is in here and I don’t know how.” Denton looks around the room as if he was being followed.

“This all must be in your mind,” Cecilia says, shaking her head. “You must be going space crazy.” She laughs again.

Denton ponders what had really happened. The thought of actually going crazy clouds his mind, and what he 6 ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ LIT

thinks he knows about reality and imagination is suddenly smudged.

Then, Callahan steps into the room just like before and shouts loudly enough to be heard over the music. But Denton notices his words have a bit of a screech to them.

“Denton, nice to see you’re finally here. Come! I need your assistance,” Callahan calls.

“He is the new captain. Careful with what you say,” Cecilia says to Denton.

“I know.” He rushes over to Callahan.

“Sir, I need to inform you of something.”

“Can it wait? I have a more important task for you,” Callahan responds.

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

Callahan puts on an annoyed look. “What is it? And make it fast.”

“Well, there is this weird goo-like creature in the engineering room. I believe it’s an alien, and it attacked me, and–” “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You mean to tell me there are aliens on this ship?”

“Yes, and it is dangerous. I believe it might be going around the ventilation tubes.”

“Nonsense!” Callahan exclaims. “There are no such things as aliens. I called you over because I was told you were one of the best engineers in this station. I see that you are just–” At that moment, a sudden explosion near the bar interrupts the conversation. Denton runs over to see if Cecilia is ok, but another explosion throws him onto the floor.

Everyone starts to run in a panic. Tables are thrown aside, people crowd the doors, trampling over each other, and in the distance, Denton sees a man’s face being gored by the goo-like creature’s tentacle. Fire waves in front of Denton’s face, blocking his view from the carnage ahead. But when the creature turns to face Denton, he notices through the smoke that it vaguely resembles...him.

He pauses, paralyzed for a moment by fear. The music warbles in the background, a strange contrast to the bloodbath in front of him.

“Don't go around tonight… Well, it's bound to take your life… Hope you are quite prepared to die… One eye is taken for an eye” over and over.

As Denton struggles to get up after the painful blow, the creature goes on ruthlessly killing any person nearby.

Celestial security shoot at the creature, but it doesn’t even flinch, gutting the officers one after another.

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Denton rushes over to cover behind a table and picks up a pistol from a dead officer. He glances over to his right and sees that the creature has started to release some small blobs of goo. These blobs immediately form four legs and begin crawling around like spiders—Denton’s worst phobia. The spider-like creatures climb onto the corpses and living alike, fusing together as they cover human hands, legs, and faces, leaving only a few places where the bodies are still visible. Then four, black, spider-like legs spur out of the spines of the bodies.

Oh, hell no! Why spiders?

The creatures walk around the area looking for any living human, piercing them with the extra legs, while some crawl onto walls and leave for other places of the ship. The creature that looks like Denton melts into a puddle and sinks down a hole on the floor, disappearing out of sight.

Looking for a way out, Denton notices the doors behind him are now covered in debris that will take too much time to clear.

That leaves me no choice. There’s another elevator through the corridor ahead, but I’ll have to fight my way through.

Denton runs out from his cover, shooting at the creatures, which resist some shots but fall after the third or fourth hit. Luckily for Denton, the part of the creatures that still have a human body allows Denton to kill them.

They jump around the room trying to evade any shots. They communicate with each other using strange screeches as they look for places to hide or high ground to attack Denton. Some use their extra legs to grab onto the ceiling and spit goo at Denton. This goo rapidly spreads over any surface they touch.

Guess I better avoid that, or I’ll end up like them.

After killing a few of the creatures, Denton notices that the creatures disintegrate into smoke. He doesn’t stand to think about it much and continues to fight his way to the door. After getting to the elevator, he rushes inside and presses the first floor button where he will be able to access the station’s control panel to try and call for help.

The elevator starts to rise.

What is going on? Are these aliens? It can’t be, they don’t exist. But… these are real, or at least they look like they are.

No, there’s got to be an explanation to all this. I thought I was alone out here in space. I better get to the control panel and get some help.

The elevator comes to a sudden stop, the roaring screech of cables signalling a malfunction. The elevator car shakes violently and begins to plummet.

“Oh no, no, no, no!” Denton screams.

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The elevator slows down thanks to its advanced emergency brakes, but those, too, fail, and the elevator crashes at the bottom of the shaft, destroying itself. …

Denton wakes up after the fall with blood coming out of his abdomen, the result of a piece of metal stabbing him in the elevator crash. He crawls out of the debris that covers him and positions his back next to a table flipped to its side. Everything around Denton is destroyed, a result of the elevator collision, or perhaps the work of the creatures.

The engineering room.

Pipes leak water and steam, cables release sparks of electricity, and debris smolders all around the room. The room is also covered in goo, which doesn’t seem to be moving. A few dead bodies are lying around, but they don’t appear to be controlled by the creatures. In the distance, tubes of fluorescent light eerily flicker or swing from the ceiling.

I am not cleaning up after all of this is over.

Denton starts to laugh but stops as a wave of pain radiates through his body, causing him to clench. Suddenly, he hears the voice of a man coming from a radio.

“Hello, is… there? Can… hear me?”

The radio seems to not be functioning well as the voice cuts off at some parts. Denton struggles to get up and rushes over to the radio.

“Hello?” Denton says as he picks up the receiver, trying to get a response.

“Ah, good. Hello… name is… you must hurry… first floor, there... be able to help you… How many… alive?”

“Only me, Denton Wolf.”

“Bummer… Well, nice to meet you, Denton. Now... on up, at least... be easier to guide only you over here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Hell if I know. Listen there isn’t much time, buddy. You better... on up here if you want to live. Oh, and make sure you get... to defend yourself, it looks dangerous.”

Denton looks around the room for anything he can use. He finds himself a big pair of pliers and pockets it.

“The elevator seems to be broken, so... have to take the long way around. Good luck, amigo,” says the man on the radio.

LIT ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ 9

Denton, still in pain after the fall, limps over to the utility room nearby and looks through the shelves to try and find a first aid kit. He manages to get one and opens it up. Inside, he finds a spray labeled “Instant Cure, with self regenerative abilities”—a spray that can heal any wound in just a few minutes, leaving the wound as if nothing ever happened. There are also some bandages, purified water, painkillers, distilled water, alcohol-free cleansing wipes, and gauze. Denton removes his space suit from his neck to his waist to clean the wound, which doesn’t appear to be deep. Then he applies the Instant Cure, covers the wound up with the bandages, and wraps the gauze around his body. He zips up his suit and swallows the pills with some water.

“Are you… pal?” says the man on the radio. “You better start… before I leave you... ” “Sorry, what was your name again?” Denton asks.

“Jake, Jake Edwin. Now get a move on before those creatures find you.”

Strange. His name seems familiar. Must all be a coincidence.

Relieved of his pain, Denton walks along the narrow hallways. Underneath the flickering lights, Denton sees that a man is starting to rise.

“Somebody help me!” the man calls as he starts to move away from Denton.

“Hey! Are you ok? Come, I can help you!” shouts Denton.

The man stops and stands still. Denton rushes over to the man, who begins to chant “Your fault” again and again, almost at a whisper.

Your fault.

Your fault.

Your fault.

“Hey!” Denton grabs the man’s shoulder. The man turns around to face Denton. The left half of his head is covered in goo and his left eye is completely black, while his right eye is wide open. Even through the goo, Denton can’t help but realize that the man resembles… his father.

This can’t be. My father is dead.

“You are a disgrace. How dare you show your face to me?” rasps Denton’s father. “Why did you let me die? It is all your fault.” He grabs Denton at the neck, choking him and lifting him off the ground.

“No! Get off me!” Denton shouts. He grips the pliers from his back pocket and hits the creature on the head with all his strength.

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“It is all your fault!” Denton’s father repeats. “You could have helped me, but instead you left and let me to die.”

Denton keeps hitting him with the pliers until his right eye fell out and his face is mutilated beyond recognition. The creature lets go of Denton, who continues to hit him until he thinks it is dead.

Denton drops the pliers, falls to his knees, and backs up to the wall. He breathes heavily, tears rising in his eyes as he watches his father disintegrate in front of him. It gives one last accusatory breath—“You left”—and disappears into smoke.

What is going on? ¶

LIT ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ 11

#11

CRISTAL ROSAS

¶ 11TH GRADE

12 ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ LIT

1920

CINDY SOTO ¶ 11TH GRADE

LIT ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ 13

#5

MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ ¶ 10TH GRADE

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women’s history month

JOSELYN CASTILLO ¶ 10TH GRADE

Thank you.

I am thankful for the women who fought for our rights. :)

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UNTITLED DARIUS SORRELLS 11TH GRADE

6:57

DEBBIE KIM ¶ STAFF

every morning i drive straight into a sunrise

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on WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A WOMAN

PBS-HSA 10TH GRADE ENGLISH CLASSES ¶ 10TH GRADE

Women are sweet and beautiful to some. Weird and strange people, really rude.

I think a good woman is someone who values herself for who she is and does not let herself be controlled. I also think that a good woman will show her emotions even if everyone disagrees with her because it is the right thing to do.

A woman handles situations differently from a girl. A woman carries and respects herself. She doesn’t react childishly to certain situations.

Why are we so moody, get so petty, overthink stuff? Is it really worth it? Does makeup really make us look better?

Why are we so confusing?

I don’t understand why women complain so much and why they always need to look nice (it’s like, bro, give it a rest. No one cares).

Women have been through more stuff, so they are wiser.

Why are women always sad and hurt?

Us women wear weaves because they don’t have to worry about their real hair. Having weaves might have been the best creative thing.

Being a good woman is not easy because people hurt you, and this makes your heart solid like a rock.

Makeup? Is it ‘cause you guys aren’t happy with your normal selves?

All women are beautiful in their own way.

Why do girls and women want more boobs if theirs are fine the way they are?

Women have periods, and men do not.

A woman can get in their emotions once a month or depends how mad you get her.

Women can be selfish and abusive, too.

Being a woman sometimes means you can’t be free.

A woman can constantly start causing problems, but they’re really smart at stuff like this.

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I myself, although I forgot who told me, have been told “Calladita te miras mas bonita” as a child, which means “You look prettier when you’re quiet.” Women are supposed to be quiet and suppress themselves for beauty but also be kindly creatures. The most significant woman in my life was honest, loud, kind, and still able to say “no” with complete confidence.

My brother and dad both think because I’m female I have to clean the house, so they do as much mess as they want because they don’t have to clean. Then when I’m sick, they think I’m complaining too much about the pain. They have too many expectations and complaints and are so completely infuriating that it drives me nuts. My dad also thinks I’m too weak to ever do anything a man does—and that’s annoying.

Education makes a good woman.

The best woman I know is my momma. They can sometimes be a pain in the neck but it’s only for your own good if they give you a hard time. Appreciate the woman that gave birth to you, the woman who fed or feeds you, looks after you, takes care of you when you’re sick.

My mother struggles and has too much stress, but she loves us too much to give up. This is what a woman is: strong, stable, independent.

I love her to death and would do anything for her.

I actually don’t know what makes a good woman.

The best woman I know is my mother. She is a single mom. She is a very hardworking mother. She has been a mom and dad to me at the same time, and I thank her for being both parents to me. My mother doesn’t show her emotions enough, but I understand her a lot.

Women aren’t too emotional. They show the right percent of emotion. We make it easy for you to know what’s wrong and how we are feeling, so they can’t say we’re complicated and confusing. To me, men are more complicated. They never want to show you how they feel. They hide their emotions good.

A woman in my life that I can say is courageous is my mother. Oftentimes I can see she is hurt or even stressed by all the bills that she has to pay, but not one time does she ever complain.

I believe as women we have to come together and empower one another. ¶

LIT ¶ MARCH 29, 2017 ¶ 19

N O W L E T ' S G E T I N F O R M AT I O N

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P B S - H SA' S L I T E R A RY M AG A Z I N E

I S S U E N O. 2 ¶ WO M E N MARCH 29, 2017