Fingerprints - RU Literary Magazine Spring 2016

FINGERPrINTs ROCKFORD UNIVERSITY LITERARY MAGAZINE - SPRING 2016

F O R WA R D .

The literary magazine at Rockford University has had a long history and tradition and has appeared under various names including The Taper, The Rockford Review, The Feast, Black Hole/White Light, and now as Fingerprints. It is called Fingerprints because everyone's work is personal and unique just like a fingerprint is to your identity.

Numerous generations of students at Rockford University have contributed their fingerprints to the content and design of the magazine which is why the publication has succeeded for so many years. Within its pages, you will experience the distinguishing voices of Rockford University's students as they respond to internal and intimate stimuli as well as external events occurring in the world around them. Rockford University includes a vast array of students with individualized interests, backgrounds, and abilities which contribute to various views about the internal and external world that we live in.

This magazine encompasses works of our many students and grants them an opportunity to proudly publish differing types of personal works. Through these works, you will discover what this generation of students finds interesting and how they view the world. These are their Fingerprints, their chance to leave their unique mark on every one of us and to let us know what this moment feels like, lest it be lost in time.

Enjoy!

TA B LE

O F

PO E T RY Table 43 - Ashley Gasparini On the Sea - Stephanie Ennis The Candidate - Ashley Gasparini Poetry? - Sarah Johnson If You Stay - Ashley Gasparini The After Party - Ashley Gasparini Did You See That? - Sarah Johnson In the Headlines - Ashley Gasparini Der Wunderbar Frosch en el Mundo Stephanie Ennis A New Maple Tree - Joshua Baez During Finals Week - Carolyn A. Wetch Becoming Invisible - Carolyn A. Wetch Eyes Open - Carolyn A. Wetch Fairest of Them All - Katie Clark Those I've Been "Match"ed - Katie Clark First Love - Joshua Baez

CO N TE N T S

Test Pattern Goddess II - Collin Harrison Please Stand By II - Collin Harrison Monkey Madness - Drew Walker Corruption - Amelia McPeek Cranial Fahrenheit - John Lynch Untitled - Amelia McPeek Interlock - Sherry Witz Milky Way Over Morris - Haley Foster Surviving Progress - Haley Foster Lost Souls - John Lynch Bed of Roses - Nina Delagarza Christopher Walken - Miranda Vowell Bloody Robot Nipple - Meghan Peper Kelly - Selby Boe Media Blackout II - Collin Harrison Basenji Nose - Michelle Bloomfield Marbles Galore - Nina Delagarza Eye-Ris - Meghan Peper Last Train - Collin Harrison

4 5 6 7 8 9 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

33 34 35 36 37 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

VI S U A L ART Untitled - Judith Goudy Polly - Michael Young Noah - Sherry Witz Scales - Amelia McPeek Bird with Umbrella - Leah Pripps Untitled - Judith Goudy Zebra Infinity - Natalie Mork Eye Transcendent - Natalie Mork Ashley - Sherry Witz Picking Flowers - Amelia McPeek Untitled - Rosa Pasillas

22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

S H O R T S TO R I E S Flavor of the Week - Stephanie Ennis Evil Lies Within Innocence - Sarah Johnson A Picture Won't Capture It - Carolyn A. Wetch Driving Into What? - Carolyn A. Wetch Thank You, Mom and Dad - Joshua Baez Growing and Multiplying - Carolyn A. Wetch Cracked - Katie Clark Those Words in my Mouth - Carolyn A. Wetch Pest Control - Katie Clark

COV E R I MA G E Girl With Umbrella - Le a h Pr ipps lin ol e u m b l ock pr in t 2 4 " x 24 " , 2015

2

54 57 60 61 63 65 67 69 71

PO e t R y .

TABLE 43 A S H LE Y G A S PA R I N I

I guess you could say I saw it coming ever since the day my grandfather didn't want us to see him cry but then he came cautiously undone in the kitchen while stirring cocktails until

each cube of ice swirled

around the glass and melted away like the pink in his lungs.

Seven months later, my knees buckled and I dropped the salads with French dressing I was supposed to bring to table forty-three because Uncle Pete works in the kitchen and when he came running to me with the phone I just knew.

Table forty-three never got their salads and we barely said goodbye.

4

ON THE SEA st e p h an i e e n n i s

Newly born fish linger in the blue Singing of a free world Where nature is old, but good And brutal deaths have stopped.

Together we can destroy the walls Of the boats that take us from home, And the icebergs working them away Begin to shatter and laugh at us.

Ugh! Why didn't you sink nearer?

Golden trout, come whisk me away!

Oh, Trout! You are so gold.

Here there are lies and we must leave.

On the walls blinked A thousand stern-faced sea men.

"What now?" I think.

Rings of death of tremendous force In the morning we'll unfold.

Fear of death shakes my being And, in the sea, I behold Sweet death's irrefutable fruit.

5

the

CANDIDATE A S H LE Y G A S PA R I N I

Well-rehearsed rhetoric constructed of stimulating sentences and crisp, collected syllables all accompanied by carefully coiffed hair and a politely pressed suit.

He's just another calculated candidate they'll say.

But we count on his dependable diction to lend advice that no other could convey any clearer. We know the slick-suited man from loafer to lapel and he is just Dad.

6

pOETRY? S ARA H J O H N S O N

This is a poem about… I don't know.

Mismatched words on the page turn into lines.

Ten syllables let's see how this will go.

Bunnies and rabbits are the same thing, so…

So I call them both. Can one please be mine?

This is a poem about… I don't know.

What would it look like if it had a 'fro?

A poofy bunny ball looking so fine.

Ten syllables let's see how this will go.

I'll teach the bunny to write just like Poe. Title number one, "Terror of the Pine."

This is a poem about… I don't know.

Why'd I start writing about bunnies though?

Well, maybe this is just another sign.

Ten syllables let's see how this will go.

I'm sorry but my time is running low.

I know you thought this piece was quite divine.

This is a poem about… I don't know.

Ten syllables let's see how this will go.

7

IF YOU STAY A S H LE Y G A S PA R I N I

smooth as zoobelee zoo fresh as the high pitched Soprano

I became deranged

medicine lost in the desecration of long black hair tangled in the dirt

cultivated pain

a thing to be eaten promises way more than it could ever deliver

like silver bullets they let you go‌

8

the

AFTER PARTY A S H LE Y G A S PA R I N I

I see Mickey's oversized head is posted up on the bar stool staring toward the pub door when Elsa stumbles in with Pooh Bear.

Aladdin strolls in, chest freshly shaved for the next day, and asks to buy Rapunzel a drink as she unpins her snarled wig.

Jasmine complains of how cold she gets, while Sleeping Beauty listens guzzling her third martini mulling over ways to lose weight.

Tiny princesses dream of the morning when they can eat sitting next to Cinderella, but all she can wonder is whether she'll run into Buzz tonight.

9

THE NOVEL AS HISTORY

D r . S h a r O n M e i la h n B a r le t t

HIST

204

In this course we will use novels and other short works of

fi c t i o n t o e x p l o r e t h e m a j o r e v e n t s a n d e f f e c t s o f Wor ld Wa r II on F ra nc e a ndo the r p a rts o f Eu ro p e . T e x t s w i ll examine different kinds of love (romantic, familial, and fraternal) and aspects of war (battles, occupation, collabora tors, b etra ya l , a nd sp i e s.) T hro u gh c o u rse read i n g s and d iscussi ons studen ts wi l l l e a rn how to ta ke m a te ri al t h at is not necessarily historic and use it to understand history w h i l e a l s o h a v i n g f u n .

PR Q : N O NE

SChEDULED ALTERNATINg YEars

tuesdays 1-2;50pm

DID YOU SEE THAT? S ARA H J O H N S O N

Did you see that? That girl over there? She's broken.

Her home isn't loving. She's bullied.

Did you see that? That guy over there? He's beaten.

His father is cruel. His mother does nothing.

Did you see that? The woman with the kid? It's not hers.

It's her sister's. She's no longer around.

Did you see that? That man with the scars? He's a veteran.

But he's alone. He's homeless.

Did you see that? The woman that's tattooed? She's a survivor.

She's got scars she's trying to hide.

Did you see that? The one with no hair? She has cancer.

She's fighting for her life. She won't give up.

Did you see that? Think before you judge.

11

IN THE HEADLINES A S H LE Y G A S PA R I N I

Today wildfire swept the state of Washington and homes were burnt to the ground.

3 dead.

In other news − I burnt my ear on my curling iron.

Yesterday there were reports of a floatplane crash in Alaska.

4 dead.

In other news − my car ran out of gas half way to work.

Last night authorities said a body was found in the river.

1 dead.

In other news − I bit my tongue while eating an orange.

Today a sixteen year old lost control at the wheel because he was texting.

5 dead.

In other news − my phone died and I lost my charger.

This morning two bombs packed with ball bearings were detonated during a marathon race.

3 dead.

In other news − I forgot my workout bag at home and I've just arrived at the gym.

12

DER WUNDERBAR FROSCH EN EL MUNDO st e p h an i e e n n i s

The frolicking four-eyed frog flew Over leopards and llamas landing on a luscious Lily pad. Leaping lizards and leeches shoot Little laser beams, blowing bits of blue blood From the foiled frog slipping slowly into sleep.

Siempre en silencio.

Nearby galloping gazelles stop to graze on Greying grass next to a weeping willow Whose wings whips wonders Towards the towering tulips that sing Songs of sorrow and elation For the ever-lasting earth.

Ein groĂ&#x;es geschenk.

Auf wiedersehen wunderbar frosch.

Hola el mundo hermoso.

13

A NEW MAPLE TREE J O S H U A BA E Z A shell of life shines brightly from the firm grasp of a seven year old, as she buries it into the Earth, hoping it will soon become a new maple tree. Water pours from above. The shell now drenched in hope, absorbing everything it can so it can become a new maple tree. A week goes by. The shell has burst into two. A string-like tumor emerges, finding its way to the center of the Earth as it scavenges for a life source so it can become a new maple tree. Another week goes by. A clone of the stringy tumor finds its way out of the shell. However, this one flows unlike the others, peaking its way into the air above. A screech of excitement fills the room. A father's smile follows as he glances into the eyes of hope to what will eventually become a new maple tree.

Years go by.

The stem's growth is now in full swing.

The browning of the exoskeleton is commencing as they speak.

An arm of faint green peers out the top, waving goodbye to the girl who was once little.

The one with hopes of seeing a new maple tree.

More years go by.

Arms continue to grow out of what now stands over 6 feet tall.

Light green plates flap around as the wind passes, budding out of each arm, hanging on tight to what is beginning to be a new maple tree. The sun beams down. A golden ray of hope glistens down from the heavens onto the Earth. A father's wrinkled grin peers through the glass. The wind brushes calmly through the arms of what is now a new maple tree.

14

DURING FINALS WEEK C A RO LY N A . W E TC H I soak up their knowledge They puff me up with water But they wring me dry They pull me They stretch me They twist me Till every drop falls down And I am left with nothing But a silly piece of paper With an assessment of my effort

15

BECOMING INVISIBLE C A RO LY N A . W E TC H

You may think of superheroes and saving people when you hear this word, but I think of escape.

How simple it is to back into a corner, lean against the wall, and find that no one can see you anymore. It’s useful when you hear a parent yell at you from the other room or a teacher asks you a question you don’t know the answer to or you spill soup all over your white skirt at lunch.

Just let your back lay across the wall, your palms cover it, and melt. Every molecule of your being just melts into it and the wall holds you. It holds your uncertainties, your fears, your worst nightmares. And all your worries fade away, and for that moment, the wall is your hero.

16

EYES OPEN C A RO LY N A . W E TC H

Eyes open

to see snow covering everything

the heart of things

body & soul

the pleasure of being

home at last

Eyes closed

17

FAIREST OF THEM ALL KAT I E C LA R K

"Lips as red as the rose"

Injections are known to cause irritation.

"Hair as black as ebony"

At least that's what the bottle says.

"Skin as white as snow"

More like pressed powder.

What can I say?

The mirror and I go way back.

"Someday my Prince will come"

back from work and not the bar.

"Standing by a wishing well"

not asking for 7 itty bitty men to take care of.

"Whistle while you work"

to forget that you were brought back from the dead.

I should have taken a bigger bite

of that damn apple.

18

THOSE I'VE BEEN "MATCH"ED KAT I E C LA R K

TravelBuddy734: Mr. Everything you want to hear. Seen the world 4 times and wants to do it all again with me. (click 1) London_Lad4U: I swear that I can hear his accent through our emails.

Widowed at twenty-two. (click 2) 1TheBoyfriend: The converter. Starts each new email with a different Bible quote acting as his topic sentence. I'm Catholic. (click 3) Bubba69: Has a foot fetish‌ I hate my feet. Next. (click 4) Nt4Reel: The game player. Tells me he is in jail and misses female touch. He's also running for president in the next election. Good luck, America. (click 5) (Click 6) Worth a first date.

(Click 7) Worth a first date.

(Click 8) Worth a first date.

But nothing more.

19

FIRST LOVE J O S H U A BA E Z

Your eyes are as beautiful as the morning sun, So bright and radiant, Glistening with life and happiness.

As I look into your eyes, Peace and serenity fill me.

As my heart starts to race When I am thinking about you, I just look into your eyes And the world just stops; I am calm and at peace.

If only the whole world Could just look into your eyes And see the beauty that I see.

20

VI S U A L ART .

U N T I T LE D JUDITH GOUdy a c rylic o n wo o d 24"x24" 2 0 15

22

PO LLY MICHAEL YOUNG re lief p r i n t 12 " x 12 " 2 0 15

23

N OA H SHERRY WITZ wa ter c o l o r 12 " x 16 " 2 0 16

24

S C A LE S Amelia MCPEEK r aku fi red stoneware 20 1 5 25

B I R D W I T H U MB R E LLA lEAH PRIPPS lin ole um bloc k p r i n t 12 " x 12 " 2 0 15

26

U N T I T LE D JUDITH GOUdy a c rylic on wo o d 24" x 2 4 " 2 0 15

27

Z E B RA IN F INITY NATALIE MORK woodbloc k re lie f 25 "x3 9" 2015 28

E YE T R A N S C E N D E N T NATALIE MORK wood block reli ef 1 4 "x18" 20 16 29

A S H LE Y SHERRY WITZ wa t e rc olor 1 2"x 16" 2016

30

P I C K I N G F LOW E R S

AMELIA MCPEEK un de rgla z e on porc el a i n 2 0 16

31

U N T I T LE D

ROSA PASILLAS wir e s c u lpture 2016

32

TEST PATTERN GODDESS II

COLLIN HARRISON spra y p a i n t on md f 1 2"x24 " 2016 33

P LEASE STAND BY II

COLLIN HARRISON s pr ay pain t on mdf 1 2"x 24 " 20 1 6 34

M O N K E Y MA D N E S S DREW WALKER l i n o le u m b lock p ri nt 1 2"x 1 2" 2015

35

CO R R U P T I O N

Amelia MCPEEK r aku fired stoneware 20 1 5

36

37

C RANI A L F A H RE N HE IT

JOHN LYNCH in k on p a p er 2 2 " x 30 " 2 0 15 38

U N T I T LE D AMELIA MCPEEK re lief p r i n t 12 " x 9 " 2 0 16

39

I N T E R LO C K SHERRY WITZ wa t e rc olor 1 2"x 16" 2016

40

MILKY WAY OVER MORRIS

HALEY FOSTER lon g-e xposure phot o g r a p h 2 0 15 41

S U R VIVI NG P RO G R E S S

HALEY FOSTER lin ole um bloc k p r i n t 12 " X 12 " 2 0 16

42

LO S T S O U LS JOHN LYNCH in k o n p ap er 22" x 30 " 20 1 6

43

B E D O F RO S E S NINA DELAGARZA a c rylic on c a n va s 2016

44

C H R I S TO P H E R WA L K E N

MIRANDA VOWELL c ha rc oa l on p a p er 2 0 16

45

B LOO D Y RO B OT NI P P LE

MEGHAN PEPER a c r y lic o n c a nv as 8"x10" 2016

46

K E L LY

SELBY BOE etc h in g 2016

47

spra y pa in t on c a n va s 2015

48

ME D I A B LA C K O U T I I

COLLIN HARRISON

BAS E N J I N O S E

MICHELLE BLOOMFIELD a c rylic on c a n va s 8 " x 10 " 2 0 16 49

MARBLES GALORE

NINA DELAGARZA a c rylic on c a n va s 2 0 16

50

E Y E - R I S

MEGHAN PEPER a c r y lic o n c a nv as 8"x10" 2016

51

LAST T RA IN COLLIN HARRISON 2015

52

SHORT STORIES.

FLAVOR WEEK OF

THE

ST E P H ANI E E N NI S

"Where are you going?"

"The mall Mom, I told you five times. I'm going with Cara and then spending the night." This is a lie. I haven't even talked to Cara in over a month. I am off once again to "ruin" my life. I know I'm not making smart decisions, but it's too late. I'm already in too deep.

I have become exceptionally good at coming up with excuses of where I am going, what I am doing, why I am home late, or why I just never come home at all. Normally I say I'm with friends or that I have to stay late at my high school to do homework. I figure the simpler the lie is, the less likely it is that I'll be caught. Living a secret life for about a year now has had to pay off somehow.

"You're going to the mall like that? You look like a slut and who said you could use our truck?" My mom's voice brought my thoughts back to reality. My mom refuses to accept the fact that the truck is mine and I let them use it. My great grandpa kicked the bucket and he left the truck for me.

Ironic, because I hated the old geezer, but none the less, it was mine.

"Dad did. That's why he took your car to work today. Oh, and these are your clothes." I gave her a sassy smile as I grab the keys and my wallet.

"I never said you could‌" I slam the door closed before she could finish her sentence. If I stick around any longer she'll find a way to stop me from going, but that's not happening.

I'm making two hundred bucks tonight and nobody's gonna stop me.

54

There in the driveway sits my Chevy S-10 pick-up truck, not always convenient for transporting a lot of people, but wonderful for spending nights lying under the stars in the countryside. This is my absolute favorite thing to do on a hot summer night, even though it doesn't happen a lot since I live in the city. I love the cool summer breeze flowing through my hair as my flavor of the week snuggles up beside me. It makes me feel alive. It makes me feel loved. It makes me feel like I matter.

Today is the most magnificent day, the sun is shining and it is the perfect temperature to just sit in the sun without it being too hot. Even though it's a Friday afternoon, I have off school because it is a school "improvement" day. My dad, Richard, who is the president of the school board, takes his job way too seriously. He works all day and any time he's home he locks himself in his office. My dad was the one who implemented these days two years ago because the schools standardize test results were too low. The truth is that these days don't improve anything. The teachers get lectures on how to incorporate music into the curriculum and how cyber bullying is becoming a problem. I'm so glad that I am 18 and only have to deal with the moronic school board for two more months.

As I fire up the truck, a wave of heat mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke rushes my face. My truck has smelled of cigarettes and marijuana since I got it a year and a half ago. Coming from a family of smokers, the truck has never lost its bitter sweet smell and nobody can tell who smokes in it. One time when my high school had dogs searching cars for drugs, I was called out so they could question me about the smell. Luckily, I forgot my weed at my friend's house and the only thing I had in the truck was a pack of cigarettes which I blamed on my mother.

Since then, I only smoke other people's weed so that I don't get in trouble. My parents would kill me if that knew about my life outside of the house, even though they're the reason I started in the first place. My mother, Caroline, taught me early on that nobody will love you forever, not even your parents. When I was fourteen, my dad told my mom he wanted a divorce. The divorce never actually happened, but at the time Caroline wasn't happy about it and used me for her punching bag. I can't tell you how many times I "fell down the stairs" or "ran into the wall." The blows never hurt as much as her words did though.

According to her I'm worthless, I'm the cause of all of her problems, and I should have been aborted when she had the chance. The pain she caused me is the reason I smoke, the reason I have been with so many men.

I'll do anything to take away the pain and get out of this place.

I've always believed that parents should love their kids until the end of time, but I guess that isn't how life works out.

F L A V O R 55

O F

I back out of the driveway, nice and slow, but as soon as I make it down the block and around the corner, I kick my truck into high gear. I'm off again to in my fantasy land with Jake, or was it John. Fuck! I really got to start checking this shit before I leave the house. I pull out of my subdivision and pass by the Quik-E Mart, the Mobile, and then the Super Walmart.

A few minutes later I reach my mystery man's house and I pull out my phone to learn his name actually is Jake. I check my hair, my eye liner, and everything else before I hop out of my truck and strut up to the door.

I ring the doorbell and knock twice. I could tell my new man was waiting for me because he answers right away. As he opens the door, he said, "Hey sexy. Come on in. My wife is gone for the weekend so we've got the place to ourselves. You ready for the time of your life?"

T H E

He's not the worst looking guy I've set myself up with. His face is kinda funky, but he has a great body. I leap up into Jake's arms knowing that it won't be the time of my life, but it'll be good enough. "I'm ready baby.

Make my dreams come true!" I say trying to sound enthusiastic.

He carries me into the living room rubbing his hands on my ass and kicking the door shut behind us. We begin to make out as he continues to head towards, what I am assuming is, his room. We begin to peel off our shirts, leaving a trail through the house. He lays me down on his mattress and reaches up my skirt for my panties. I giggle as he realizes that I never had any on and he drops his pants and boxers. A half an hour later I'm smoking a cigarette and sipping on a Mountain Dew while what's-his-name cooks me dinner. Ten crisp twenty dollar bills sat on the table beside me.

Sometimes playing house has its perks.

W E E K 56

EVIL LIES INNOCENCE WITHIN

S ARA H J O H N S O N

People say this house is haunted.

I don't know why. It's not like I've ever done anything bad to anyone visiting. I mean, I know they've seen me wandering the halls here, but is that enough to consider this place haunted? I don't really know.

This is my house. I don't like people messing with my house.

Especially physics or mediums or whatever it they're called.

They come in here all the time and try to get me to leave. I am fed up with it. They can't make me leave. They can keep trying, but it's going to be in vain. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I refuse.

"Hey guy, come on. Just be quiet will ya?"Well what do we have here?

"Slow down! I can't run that fast." I hear the two others hissing at this girl to be quiet. What are these three up to?

"I don't like this Kate. I really don't like this. We shouldn't be messing around with things like this. I'm scared."

"Shut up you big baby. Nothing's going to happen. These things aren't real. They're a game."

This Kate really annoys me already.

"Yea, I don't think so. These really aren't anything to mess with Kate. Julia's right." The guy says.

"Really? Tommy are you scared too? Are you gonna run home to your mommy and cry?"

"Kate, you really are a bitch," Julia said. I have to say that I agree.

57

My question is, are these kids really gonna mess around with something as dangerous as this?

If so, it looks like I am going to have to scare them away. I will not allow that in my house. Too many mishaps have happened because of those devil boards, and I just won't allow. I have to find a way to get rid of it and them before they release something bad into this house.

This wouldn't be the first time some kids have come in here to goof off and mess with things they don't understand. One group tried to hold a sĂŠance and it just ended badly. They pissed some other spirits off and let's just say, they learned their lesson. Two of these kids at least seem somewhat sensible.

It's this Kate that worries me.

"That would be cool, but there

"Come on, let's go set it up over here." Kate tells the others.

"Tommy, can we just go? This freaks me out too much."

"Julia, I would, but I'm not leaving my sister here alone to do something stupid."

"Tommy, go ahead and go if you're afraid. I'm staying and I'm doing this. I don't care if I do it alone. Don't worry about me, I"m a big girl." More like a stupid one. I want to intervene, but I'm slightly interested in what these other two have to say to Kate.

has to be some other way to do it. Let's bring in Olivia, she's good at communicating with the dead." Oh joy, a psychic. I'll take that over this idiotic plan.

Or, they could just leave, that's always an option too.

"Olivia? No! I can't stand her.

She thinks she is so damn cool because she can communicate with ghosts. I don't believe she really can either. I know that this will work."

"Kate, Tommy's right. We should ask her. Have you never watched a horror film? Ouija boards are dangerous. What if we don't even contact the ghost in this house? Or what if it is an unfriendly ghost? What then? What will we do if we get something else?" Wow, she's a smart girl. This Kate girl should really listen to her.

"Kate, messing with that alone will be one of the stupidest things you can do."

"Come on Tommy. Don't you wanna try and communicate with the ghost that lives here?"

58

"Fine, you guys want to be lame,

call Olivia for all I care. I'm still using the Ouija board though.

I didn't buy it for nothing. Go ahead Tommy, call little miss Olivia."

"I will. Don't be so condescending Kate. I don't want to see you hurt and you insisting on messing with that damn thing puts us all at risk." That's when I decide to walk into the room.

They all look around as I enter.

"Do you feel that? It just got like really super cold in here."

"Julia, stop complaining. It's an old house what do you expect?"

"Kate, come on. I'm really freaked out now. What if that ghost that resides here is mean?

I want to go.'

"Then go. I don't give a shit.

Leave. Please. Get out of here."

phye

214

I n t r O d U ct i O n t O Exercise Science p r O f .

A n n

B O E

This course introduces students to the field of exercise science as a discipline and profession. Topics may include fitness components, liability concerns and considerations, professional roles and certifications, careers in fitness and health, and facility management. Off campus trips will be taken to a variety of facilities which would be employment opportunities for those majoring in Exercise Science.

PrQ : NO

TU e s da y / T h U r s da y 1 : 0 0 - 2 : 1 5 P . m .

318

T h i s c o u r s e fo c u s e s o n t h e u n i q u e r e q u i r e m e n t s o f i n d i v i d u a l s w i t h a wide rang e of need s. T op i cs ma y in c lude a sse ssme n t t e c hn ique s, t reatm e n t pr o ced u res, and exerci se pre sc ript ion for spe c ia l popula t ion s.

phye

Ex erc i s e f O r

S p e c i a l PO p U lat i O n s

phye

P r O f . A n n B O e

P r Q : P H YE 1 0 2 / p h y e 2 1 4

PR Q : b I O L 2 0 9

M O N DAY / WE D NE S DAY / FRI DAY 1 2 : 0 0 - 1 2 : 5 0 P . m .

This course applies exercise science principles to the design and i m p l e m e n t a t i o n o f e x e r c i s e p r o g r a m s fo r v a r i o u s p o p u l a t i o n s .

Topics may include scientific perspectives, testing procedures, health appraisals, and fitness programs along with practical experiences.

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E x e r c i s e T e st i n g an d P re sc r i p t i O n p r O f .

A n n

B O E

A

PICTURE CAPTURE IT WON'T

C A RO LY N A . W E TC H The sun hiding behind the clouds.

The new moon against the night sky.

Eyeglass frames with the lens popped out.

Eyes without sight.

A mother losing her child.

Someone goes into a bathroom to find there's no toilet.

An investigator looks at a puzzling case and thinks, "Something's missing here."

------I have a picture of myself showing off an artistic creation.

I had these plastic colored shapes and I made patterns with them. I suppose trapezoids and triangles make for a great work of art in mom's book. I knew it really wasn't that good, and I told my mom that. But she didn't listen. She snapped the photo as I explained to her it was nothing special. The picture only captured a bright happy face on it. A picture won't capture how you really feel.

I have a picture of my dad and me in a corn maze. I carried a little flag. It was meant to let someone know that we give up and want help. I never used it.

I knew I could find my way out.

We were still in there when we took the picture, but there was no doubt we would find our way out. The surrounding walls of large green stalks that were too tall to see over did not seem the least intimidating. I was leading us out. My dad complimented me, saying, "You're very good at navigating." Words I still remember. A picture won't capture the spoken words.

I have a picture of me and my snowman. That was a good year to build snowmen. I mean you could gently roll a little piece of snow on the ground and it would naturally stick together and grow bigger and bigger.

My neighbor wanted to build a snowman with me.

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She brought the coal for eyes, the scarf, and carrot nose. I made the body. I rolled it all over the ground, making bigger. Together we made it. I posed with my creation in the photo, but my friend wasn't with me. She wasn't in the photo. A picture won't capture the people who aren't there. ~~~ They say, a picture is worth a thousand words. I say, it's missing ten thousand. Ten thousand thoughts behind each action.

Ten thousand real emotions.

Ten thousand words left unheard. Ten thousand people who have influenced our lives.

Memory is what catches all of these things before they fall into the darkness where we forget.

What will we do when our memory fades? Will we remember those hidden emotions? Those unheard words? Those absent friends? Will they become the sun hiding behind the clouds?

The new moon against the night sky? And if they go missing, can we find them again?

DRIVING WHAT? INTO

C A RO LY N A . W E TC H

I drove on. I saw the dark clouds ahead, but I made no effort to turn around. I felt my heart beat faster. No, that's not right. It pumped harder so that I felt it pounding against my chest.

The dark clouds were right above me. I felt the light running away, as if I had done something wrong to make it leave. My stomach cringed, shrinking from the space it normally occupies. It was hiding from what I feared was ahead.

I just wanted to stop by WalMart and pick something up.

Was that too much to ask? I didn't realize the storm was this close, and I didn't want to walk out into a down pour.

Then it actually started to rain, and I thought, "This ain't good."

But now, as the rain hits my car, I don't feel safe.

Now, I've never been scared of storms.

Whenever a thunderstorm passed over or a tornado warning would go off, my parents and I filed down to the basement. My mom worried about getting the flashlights. My dad got the handheld radio with the weather alerts. And me?

I took all my toys downstairs with me – that was my priority.

My dolls, with their accessories, nestled themselves all around me on my mini trampoline. I knew the seriousness of the storm, but it never felt dangerous to me. Even if the power went out.

I was surrounded. My mom fidgeted with the flashlight. The light beams bounced off the eyes of my dolls. My dad paced around interrupting the light from shining on me. And my dolls? My constant companions were right next to me.

I felt safe.

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I see the rain drops falling across my windshield, running from my line of view. Ahead of me is what seems like an endless cloud of darkness. Oh, Wal-Mart, perhaps another day. I make a right turn, away from the storm clouds and return home. *** I drove on. I didn't see much. It was different this time. No dark clouds to be seen, but it felt like the light was dim just the same.

All I knew was that I had to get there – whenever "there" was.

The cars in front of me were slowing down. I didn't realize it in time. All I saw was the bumper of the car in front of me rushing into my face. The sound of glass shattering resonated in my ears.

My eyes shot open. I looked around my darkened room to find I was still in bed. It was night. It was only a dream.

Knowing that what it saw and heard weren]t real, I thought I could relax. But that wasn't the case. My heart kept pounding in my chest. My eyes were wide.

Every nerve was on alert. I could not go back to sleep, not now.

Why did I dream about crashing? Why did I feel rushed?

Why didn't I see it coming?

I laid awake for an hour or so.

My mind raced with images and feelings of fear and worry.

I remembered reading a book for school earlier that evening and that I didn't mark the page I stopped reading. I woke up enough to fix that. After turning on some music, my mind could calm down so I could sleep some more. Finally.

*** I keep going. Where? I really don't know. I think I know where I'm going, but honestly, I couldn't tell you one way or the other.

I'm a college student, looking ahead to graduation. And a career. And job opportunities.

And moving out of my parent's house. And adulthood. And the unknown.

That's what all this is: the unknown. I don't know what is going to happen in the future.

I have no guarantees. That is what scares me the most. This is what makes my hands grip the steering wheel so tightly.

This is what makes my heart pound so hard against my chest.

I'm driving into my future – an unknown future – at what feels like a very fast pace.

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I have attended conferences. I have volunteered. I have looked for internships. On top of that, I study for tests, write papers, and work at a part time job. I have little to no time for myself, let alone sleep because each night I lie awake with worry. Worry about the next thing to do. Worry about how well I'm going in class. Worry about why I can't go back to sleep.

This worry is my constant companion. I have nestled them all around me, even in my dreams.

I am surrounded, and I don't feel safe.

These anxious thoughts motivate me to keep driving. Driving into something I think I want when all I want is a nap – a restful nap with no anxious dreams to keep me awake. Driving into something dark, into something unfamiliar, into something that makes my stomach cringe.

This is the storm I'm driving into. Can I turn around now?

Wait. I are finals coming up. I can't turn around now. I have to study. I have to do well on them. I have to success in my unknown future.

THANK YOU, MOM AND DAD J O S H U A BA E Z

"Come down Luke! I have a surprise for you!"

My hands clutched the columns of the guard rails as I looked through what seemed to be a prison cell. On the dining room table laid a bag sprayed by the sea, with cherry bushes spewing from the top. I leaned against the wall behind me. I had sat there; my mother's long awaited cue for me to come down couldn't have come any sooner as I was already halfway down the staircase. My heart raced furiously. What could possibly be hiding underneath all that tissue paper?

A dinosaur?

A car?

A new pet dog?

After spending what was now seven years on this planet, I should've been able to figure out what lied inside without having to open anything.

"Good morning Luke! We got a surprise there for you. Go open it. We love you!"

A smile as wide as the Milky Way lied on my face. I already spent a little time thinking of what this surprise was. It was time to finally find out.

I inched closer and closer to the table. My palms dripped with sweat. The Indy 500 coursed through my veins. I reached my hand out trying to break through the mental electric fence that was holding me back.

I pulled out the bundle of tissue paper and set it aside. I leaned the bag towards me and peered inside. This surprise looked a little small to be a dinosaur.

At the bottom of the bag lied a note that read, Read me. My eyebrows lied at different levels, my mouth now the shape of a diagonal line. I reached inside and unfolded it.

Surprise, Luke! We got you tissue paper! Sorry we couldn't get you anything else, we can't afford much right now. But we know you're a smart boy, so you'll figure out what to do with it. Love, Mom and Dad.

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My face was shaved of emotion.

What I thought was this extravagant gift of a lifetime literally lied flat on the floor. I set the note on the table, then picked up what I regretted to be my gift. My father, wearing a black suit with a bright orange tie, walked down the staircase and noticed me.

"Happy Birthday, Luke! You like your gift?"

I stared back and forth between my gift and my father, still puzzled as to what I had received. If my father was wearing a suit, wouldn't that have meant he has a good job?

A good job to pay for the big house that we live in?

A good job to pay for the two cars that the two of them drive?

A good job to pay for a gift that wasn't as pathetic and pointless as tissue paper?

"Come on, son. I gotta take you to school". I shoved the tissue paper into my pocket as I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door with my father.

"You like your gift, Luke?"

I peered out the window, looking down at all of the cars we were driving past. I didn't want to look at my father.

Not out of rage, but out of confusion. Still clueless about life at this point, I turned my head towards the radio, giving my father the impression that I was actually paying attention to him.

"I know it wasn't much, but we're in a lot of debt right now.

Don't tell your mother, but I've been maxing out the credit cards lately. I think I might have a shopping problem. I know, a guy with a shopping problem.

That makes sense in society today, right? Yeah! Of course it does! Yeah!"

I got out of the car and lightly closed the door. My father waved goodbye as I walked away, emotionless. I sat down at my desk and began to get ready for class. Glancing down at my pocket, I noticed the lump of tissue paper balled up in my pocket.

To avoid the others thinking I had some kind of tumor on my thigh, I pulled it out and stared at it. What could I possibly do with this? Then, I had the idea of the century that could top no other.

I flattened the paper onto my desk and began to fold it.

Crease by crease, sure beauty was beginning to appear right before my eyes.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO BREAK THAT RULE!" Soon enough, it was as if the angels dropped a gift from the heavens onto my fingertips. I held it up towards the sky for everyone to see."You better not throw that, Luke! You know that's one rule you most certainly don't want to break!'

Steam was practically coming out of her ears. Her eyes bloodshot, her once cute face now smeared with the color red.

Her loud, heavy breathes drew fear into the kids sitting in the classroom next door. She yelped out a battle cry towards the heavens. With her coffee mug Unfortunately, Miss Scholor now in pieces across the asphalt got a glimpse of it. The good stu- outside, her desk flipped over dent inside thought it would've with papers scattered across been best to get rid of it, as she the front of the room, and warned me that that was one her laptop laying on the floor, rule I didn't want to I didn't lis- ripped in half, she stomped over ten to him. towards me.

With my creation lightly wound between my fingers, I climbed on top of my desk.

"LUKE! SIT DOWN AT ONCE! I'LL BE VERY ANGRY IF YOU DON'T!"

Holy crap, what do I do? My short life flashed before my eyes as Miss Scholor's hulk-like presence stomped towards me.

She firmly grabbed the desk next to mine, stared at the kid sitting next to me, and screamed at the top of her lungs. I was sitting pretty close, but I still wasn't able to understand a word coming out of her mouth. The kid, whose face now covered with tears, ran out of the classroom, screaming for the presence of their mother. She let go of the desk, then looked at me.

I wound my arm back and released my creation like a dove.

It soared through the sky, flying so perfectly that the geese above would've mistaken it for one of their kind. A miraculous view of red and green flowed through the air. My eyes took snapshots of this once in a lifetime event.

At least that's what I imagined. "DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!?"

As I released my work from my hand, it shot down at a perfect I glanced down at the tissue ninety-degree angle towards paper on the floor, then back at the floor. What I had thought to Miss Scholor's rage-filled face. be my life's perfect work turned out to be a major catastrophe. "Thank you, Mom and Dad." I glanced at Miss Scholor. She did not look pleased.

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GROWING MULTIPLYING AND

C A RO LY N A . W E TC H

Geese.

Geese.

Geese.

Everywhere I looked there they were. They were growing and multiplying in numbers so large that they might eventually take over the world – or at least Rockford, IL. One day I saw a group of them cross the road using the crosswalk. Who knew that a dumb animal actually understood the rules of the road?

They certainly loved getting the right of way as they waddled their big behinds in front of me. ***

I arrive at work early like I normally do. I want my manger to know that I'm serious about my job. I want him to know that I can be trusted to do my job and do it well. Not many people care about this job. And who would blame them? Who wants to spend their weekends helping other people have fun? That totally goes against our culture.

But you see I work in banquets at a fancy restaurant. Serving people is what we do. And it's a pretty simple job – doing the same thing over and over again.

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Wedding receptions are our most common and mundane event. From late spring to early fall, we can expect a wedding or three every Saturday night, maybe even on a Friday or Sunday. And trust me, everyone at work gets so sick of weddings.

We actually look forward to colder weather when people stop getting married – at least the majority of them. So why would I want to work hard at this job?

The reason is because I want to be the Assistant Manager one day. Since I started working here, that has been my ambition.

Whether it's now or a few years down the road, I don't know. I just want it to happen – sooner rather than later would be nice.

That's also what makes tonight stick out but not for the reasons you might think.

The evening went pretty smoothly.

My Assistant Manager asked me to count 120 cake plates. I placed them on the cart, then I walked away to start the next task. After a few minutes, I heard it. A piercing scream traveled to my ears – Crash! All the plates fell on the floor – broken. I dropped to my knees. Quickly, I tried to clean up the mess. No. The shattered pieces caused my hands to bleed.

I saw the blood flowing out of me – all my hope and dreams.

"How could this happen? How could all of them fall like that?"

Some of the other guys cleaned up the mess while I took care of my injuries. We returned to our work and served dinner.

Everything was fine. I was just a little shaken. Nothing I couldn't handle. We cleared the room. I rested my tray full of plates down on the table and pushed the bus tub back for more room, and I watched as it happened before my eyes. The tub tipped over and fell to the floor. Crash! The sight traveled to my eyes like a train races over a bridge that's broken, falling to its doom. I looked to the coworker standing next to me. He turned and walked away.

"Not again. Not again. I can't believe this."

Soon after that, I clocked out and went home. Granted, I returned next week to do that same old thing – everyone broke plates, everyone knew this. But my thoughts still haunted me.

They kept crashing down, down, down on me. I felt their weight pushing against me as I buried my head in the pillow. "I can't do anything right. No matter how much I try, I'll never amount to anything."

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*** Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts.

Everywhere I looked there they were. They were growing and multiplying in numbers so large that possibly they could take over my mind – or at least my confidence. That day they crossed my mind using my wounded pride to further their cause. Who knew that a silly little thought knew how to stay and never leave my head? They certainly loved getting their own way as they kept me from moving forward.

C RAC K E D KAT I E C LA R K

I grip onto my steering wheel as I try to stay on the narrow path through the local state park while my tears impair my vision. I feel the warmth of the sun against my thigh. Shadows upon shadows of trees break this warmth as if it were nature's metronome. I'm not quite sure how I ended up here. I feel small. Vulnerable. I find myself just looking through the trees as if the answer to life is just going to pop out with a flashing neon sign. I've always tried to find the good in people - everyone deserves that. Yet, I don't have any answers. If anything I only have more questions.

How did I manage to give someone so much power over me? How can one individual still be making such an impact three years later?

People told me I was crazy you know. Who in their right mind would date a recovering cocaine addict at the local rehab facility, three years older than them, their senior year of high school?

Of course you were a little rough around the edges, but who isn't?

You were my Prince Charming,… right? Then again you didn't look or act like the guy from my story book… People asked me why I did what I did, and stayed with you, when "I could do so much better", I told them because I had faith in you.

Faith that you could turn your life around, and I was sent to you to guide you down that "right path" in life I always hear about.

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It's too bad that I wasn't good enough for you. That I believed in you even when you did not believe in yourself. Nobody was left standing by you, not even one of your "brothers" from the streets or your crack. It's too bad that I told you I wouldn't sleep with you, and that you found three other girls that would behind my back…

After so many "too bads" they begin to turn into "I'm sorrys".

I'm sorry to the people that try and get close to me now because of what you have done in the past. I am sorry that I have built these mountainous walls that they will now have to climb over or chip at, little by little, because of what you laid down brick by brick.

I'm sure that was exhausting for you. I can't even imagine how you kept all our names straight.

Then again I don't ever remember you saying my name? It was always "Babe" or "Boo". Guess you thought you were pretty clever. It's too bad my name was so hard to remember; then again you did have a full agenda. It's too bad that your life goals got rearranged when you relapsed.

It's too bad that you will have to explain your past to your new child, the one whose mother you chose over me...

They do not deserve this demolition project. Yet, here they are cleaning up your mess.

This is the mess that you are and always will be responsible for. I'm sorry you are no longer in contact with me so you can't see the people that have taken your place. They gather everyday with their chisels, but more importantly their brooms.

Once a brick has managed to detach from the rest of the wallafter hours and hours of blood, sweat, and tears- they come in and sweep it away. I’m not quite sure where it is taken, they don’t want me to know, but I know that I no longer have to deal with You always used to tell me that that brick.—again. "we" were forever. That you would never leave me even when I wanted you to, and boy where you right. You haven't left me, you are a constant struggle on my mind. Yet, it's not a negative struggle. It's a struggle that is a constant reminder that I am oh, so much better with out you.

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THOSE WORDS MY MOUTH IN

C A RO LY N A . W E TC H

I'm not looking forward to this.

I plop down at my computer, opening up Facebook on my browser. I drag the arrow to click on his page and select the message option. I start typing, "I'm sorry." Uh, those words taste like vinegar in my mouth.

Why am I even apologizing?

You're the problem. You threw a curveball at me.

I look around the room. My eyes land on the drawer where I keep his picture. I remember the dreams I had of us together.

I quickly turn my attention back to the screen and begin again. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness." And I'm not going I continue with "I know I to give up either. No, we had shouldn't have bailed on you." something. I know we did. Did But you know, Facebook makes you feel something too? it so easy to contact people.

If I never had Facebook, if I I close my eyes and focus on my never "friended" you, if I never breaths. "I just want to say I'm messaged you, I wouldn't be sorry for the trouble I caused in this situation at all. Then you." But what about the trouble again, I'm pretty resourceful. I you caused me? Why do things would've found another way. have to be like this? I wish‌ I wish things could change.

I fidget in my chair. "I panicked.

I acted rashly." Well, of course, I slowly type my last word.

I acted rashly. You accepted my "Goodbye." My mouth feels dry. invite, but there you go inviting your friend who happens to be a girl, making me the third wheel.

No wonder I panicked. Why would I want to go to a concert with you and her?

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I leave my room with the cursor blinking away. I need to get a glass of water. I take a big gulp and swallow. I take another and another, finishing the glass.

"Nope, it's still there," I say.

Why does water leaves you so unsatisfied? It's supposed to be refreshing and make you feel good. But no, it just leaves you empty and wanting more. So much for the healing powers of water. Will nothing change the taste of these words in my mouth?

D r . J O N S K A LS K I A s s is tan t Professor of Psy chology

PSYC

PO SITIVE PSYCH O LO G Y

276

In recent decades, positive psychology has emerged as both a supplement to traditional psychology treatments, which tend to focus on alleviating psychological ailments, as well as an approach with broad applications for those of normal functioning. Positive psychology involves scientific research about what enables individuals to lead satisfying and fulfilling lives. Topics relevant to positive psychology include Eastern and Western perspectives on meaning-making, religion, and spirituality; happiness and life satisfaction; optimism and hope; self-regulation; character strengths like forgiveness, courage, wisdom, humor, and gratitude; stress and resilience; interpersonal relationships; work, leisure, and community.

PRQ : PSYC 100

20 1 6 S U MME R RE GU LAR

Meets : NO

P E S T CO N T RO L KAT I E C LA R K

Three circles - a head and two ears. This little mouse has created a multibillion-dollar empire; and for being a rodent, he and has scurried his way into the homes of many throughout the years. I am no exception.

The day that I was born I was wrapped in a Mickey blanket and brought home to my "Disney Baby" nursery. As I grew, I took every opportunity I had to wear my ball gown, or mermaid tail, with matching tiara and heels. I didn't care if it was only to the grocery store, I was ready to hop in my carriage and waltz in the freezer section at “the ball” alongside the pizza and veggies.

When I found out that people all over the country can audition to work at Disneyworld that when all magic let loose. Can I sing?

Have I acted? Well, no, but The Mouse and I grew up together, Once in school, I had every we were friends, he wouldn't let single Disney movie, and song me down. And so it was decided. embedded, memorized from the "Once Upon a Time" until the book closed and "Happily Character Performers Ever After" began. In school I developed the skill of making For: Walt Disney World every paper, or project, somehow based on The Mouse—Math class: Audition City: Chicago, IL Annual Gross at Disneyworld, History class: Biography and Location: Hubbard Street Dance Impact of Walt Disney, Art class: Performing Arts Center strategically placed "Hidden Mickeys" in all my projects. I began searching "Disney fun facts" online for hours so that I could "impress" my friends and family. "I bet you didn’t know that Doritos were created in Disneyland… too many left over tortilla chips."

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Once I walked through the doors of the Performing Arts Center everything changed. There were hundreds of people crowded together and Hidden Mickey's everywhere - From the pushpins holding up the audition sheets, placed on girls' bobby pins in their hair, and even on the doorstop. After waiting in line, for what seemed longer than the one for Splash Mountain, I was given the number 101 out of the 373 people that were there. Right after, I was instructed to take my shoes off so that they could get an accurate measurement of my height.

"Today, we will be looking for special individuals to portray Goofy! For costume purposes you have to be between 6'2"6'3" We already have your measurements." Well shoot, I'm only 5'5" if I stretch.

"Also! We are looking for dancers for The Lion King Live!" Well, it's no princess, but I've been dancing for 15 years, I've got this!

"That is, African dancers!"

Two very charismatic UGH! I'm not African‌ individuals, with smiles painted on their face, placed us all in a giant dance room. I made my way to the front so that I could make direct contact with them and mirror their smile back.

They introduced themselves and said what type of "Character Performers" the talent agent would be looking for that day.

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It felt as though all my Pixie Dust was stolen from me, defeated.

That was my chance to be part of the magic, and I literally fell short. Out of all the research I had done in my life I somehow never came across the difference between "Character Performers" and "Face Characters". The difference is in the name; face characters show their face, and character performers are typically in parades or walking around with masked costumes –Aka the guys sweating their magic off in the big fuzzy suit.

The thing with rodents is that they are hard to get rid of.

Today, people still come up to me and tell me that they watched a Disney movie on TV over the weekend, I have teachers email me articles of "What Disney Princesses would look like if they had realistic body images?", and I spend my weekends getting paid to be a Princess at little girls' birthday parties. When those little girls come running up to "me" at their birthday parties and stare at me with their big, dream filled eyes, if I look real close, I swear I can see that same Mouse twinkling back at me.

c ONTRIBUTE RS D E SIG NE RS

c h I E F E D I TO R

Haley Foster Drew Walker Rosa Pasillas Collin Harrison John Lynch Andria Schapp Stephanie Walsh

Katie Clark

E D I TO R S Ashley Gasparini Susan Collins Sarah Johnson Stephanie Ennis

s pec ial

th an k s

Thank you to the professors, Dr. Perry and Professor Sisson, for their guidance, to Pamela Ward of Print Services for her help in bringing this magazine to life, and to Provost Wholeben for her support.

Without you all, this would have never been possible.

i n l O V I N G ME M O RY O F

DEMONTE AND DESIREE illustration by Andrea Bent

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HISTORY GrAPHIC DESIGN

relevant creative exercises.

CHRISTOPHER SISSON

prof.

Supplements lecture, theory, and audio visual with

to illuminated manuscripts).

the first illustrators and designers (from cave art

as well as present an overview of

as a component of society, culture and general history

This course will examine graphic design

which includes illustration and the sequential arts.

visual communication

will trace the historical development of

The History of Graphic Design

ARTH 379/LECTURE/01 - THE HISTORY OF GRAPHIC DESIGN | CREDITS 3.00 | MWF 10-10:50 SPRING FALL 2017 2016 CAC 111

ArTH379

special topics in art history

GET YOUR WORK PUBLISHED Accepting submissions for the next issue beginning September 2016

FINGERPRINTS.SUBMISSIONS@ GMAIL.COM