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Almost Famous Fall/Winter | 2009-10

Be the Gift

Vol. 6, Issue 1


Prologue

This magazine is the result of hard work, patience, endurance and the enthusiasm of all who submitted their work. Thank You! Who started this? A few students back in 2005 worked with Mr. Propson to create the first issue of our school’s magazine. Without them, so much progress we’ve made over the years would not be possible. Although Mr. Propson is no longer advisor of Almost Famous, he still stays in contact with us and helps us to make the magazine the best it can be. When I last talked with him, he asked AF to include a note in the magazine telling his past students that he would really love to hear from you all!

Trebecca AF editor

Heart

Mr. Propson

The heart is deceitful above all things. Of all things that you might trust, that you might follow, You cannot trust your heart, nor follow it. The aim of the heart is never to be grieved. We see this again and again. The heart sets low expectations. The heart nourishes abandonment. The heart makes promises without regard to their completion. It pretends and pretends until the man is nothing but pretense, Nothing but an organ free of pain. For the heart will go to any distance and through any boundary to escape pain. The avoidance of pain will never solve anything, Yet the heart lies and lies, with avoidance as its theme. Deceitful, I say, above all things. Not life but death, neither trusting nor trustworthy. If you contradict me, you are speaking from the heart, and you are wrong.

P R O L O G U E


I N S I D E A F

read. Contributors: Katie Abston Megan Davis Jimmy Jackson Kayla McDonald

rap. Contributors: Jori Griffin Jalynn Jones

Submit to Almost Famous! We’d love to put your work in Lincoln High School’s literary magazine. You can find a submission form in Mrs. Gonzales’s room (315), or ask your English or art teacher for one. SPECIAL NOTE: if you want to see your written work in the magazine, please EMAIL your work to us at: almostfamouslhs@yahoo.com Make sure you include your name and grade level!

Almost Famous meetings: 2:45-4:00 pm Fridays (See Mrs. Gonzales for more details)

recite. Contributors: Katie Abston Craig Gamboe Katie Kaspala Jimmy Jackson

Kelli Dorsey Karen Dustan Devin Jones Markey Da’Merius Ford

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Other Features:

3 From the Staff 4 Staff List 5 Books 11 Cartoons 13 Ink Blot 18 MORE 19 Overheards

Front Cover: “Be the Gift” Artist: Erin Abramowitz

WRITE POWER

NHS National Honor Society We support the creativity of Lincoln High School |2


From the Staff… Dear (reader, insert your name here), Editor’s Note is the official name for this page. But since our editor is busy doing what editors do best (editing, of course), the second hand man, or woman, in this case, will have the pleasure of writing you this letter. Another year has come: fresh faces of the incoming freshman wandering through the ever-crowded bottleneck; the old tired out faces of us upperclassmen counting the days until we’re free of these tiresome classes and boring, dried out teachers — excluding the few fun and lovable teachers. Now, the middle of the year, six more months left in this place before the simmering days of the summer. Yes, we Michiganians consider 60 degrees HOT. Any hotter and we say it’s global warming… Oh, the joy of lounging in front of the brain cell destroyer, filling ourselves to the brim with Spongebob, Smart Guy, and anything else that marks us as amusing—watching hours of our lives pass by, no cares in the world. As we await the days of freedom, Thanksgiving has escaped our clutches and now we look forward to the first snow that exclaims in big letters that Christmas/Kwanza/Hanukkah/New Years is near. As it is in our human nature — love that song by Michael Jackson — we tend to rush things along. Christmas music blares out of every car window with an occasional rock band or R&B artist mixed in; men hang off their roofs, trying to put up lights; Christmas trees already up and decorated; Santa notes posted on refrigerator doors. It’s amazing you got this far into the this letter.... This Almost Famous Christmas/holiday issue is our gift to you! Our staff worked hard to get this magazine out to you, but we couldn’t have done this without our contributors (YES, we mean YOU!) We are greatful to you all, and we owe you one. You guys are the ones with the bragging rights because you are truly ALMOST FAMOUS! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Kayla G. McDonald Cartoonist |3


Almost Famous Staff List: Editor/template designerTrebecca McDonald

Co-Editor/ Cartoonist-

Kayla McDonald

Writing DirectorCaitlyn McKinney

Art Director-

Michelle Czinski

Advisors-

Mrs. Gonzales Mrs. Bell

Special Thanks To: Mrs. Czaja Mrs. Rose NHS Mr. Propson OUR ADVISORS!!!

|4 Almost Famous 2009 | 2010


Books:

Caitlyn McKinney

3.) I, Alex Cross by James 1.) The Associate by John

Grisham: Kyle McAvoy grew up in his father’s small-town law office in York, Pennsylvania. He excelled in college, was elected editor-inchief of The Yale Law Journal, and his future has limitless potential. But Kyle has a secret, a dark one, an episode from college that he has tried to forget. Three months after leaving Yale, Kyle becomes an associate at the largest law firm in the world, where, in addition to practicing law, he is expected to lie, steal, and take part in a scheme that could send him to prison, if not get him killed. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown - The Lost Symbol is a 2009 mystery novel written by Dan Brown and the third book to involve the character of Robery Langdon, after Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code. The book takes place in Washington, D.C. and focus on Freemasonry and The Lost Symbol, a reference to a ciphered pictogram in an important talisman, the Hebrew Key of Solomon.

2.) Have A Little Faith by

Mitch Albom: "What if our beliefs were not what divided us, but what pulled us together?" Mitch Albom offers a beautifully written story of a remarkable eight year journey between two worlds – two men, two faiths, and two communities.

Patterson: Alex Cross's niece is found brutally murdered. Overcome with grief, Alex vows to take down her killer before he strikes again. But shortly after he begins the investigation, Alex discovers that his niece had gotten mixed up with some very important, very dangerous people. And she's not the only one who has disappeared.

The hunt for the murderer leads Alex and his girlfriend, Detective Brianna Stone, to Washington's most infamous club--a place where every fantasy is possible, if you have the credentials to get in. The killer could be one of their patrons, one of Washington's elite who will do anything to keep their secrets buried.

4.) The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton: In 1913, a

little girl arrives in Brisbane, Australia, and is taken in by a dock master and his wife. She doesn’t know her name, and the only clue to her identity is a book of fairy tales tucked inside a white suitcase. When the girl, called Nell, grows up, she starts to piece together bits of her story, but just as she’s on the verge of going to England to trace the mystery to its source, her granddaughter, Cassandra, is left in her care. When Nell dies, Cassandra finds herself the owner of a cottage in Cornwall, and makes the journey to England to finally solve the puzzle of Nell’s origins.

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Contents: 6 A Night at the Fun House

Jimmy Jackson

7 Fifteen minutes before school starts…

Katie Abston

8 The Christmas Gift

Kayla McDonald

10 The Moon Warrior Who Created the Stars

Megan Davis

A Night at the Fun House

Jimmy Jackson The room is dark except for the soft electric glow of the stereo face plate, and a desk lamp turned on low. A slight smell of sweet incense fills the air. Out of my stack of vinyl come one of the most influential albums in rock history, a torrent of distorted guitar and edgy vocals. This is the Stooges—this is Fun House. The album itself is a 33 RPM vinyl record; yeah, it’s old school. The artwork on the album is comprised of bright, psychedelic, red, orange, and yellow paintings of the various band members. It’s bright, but dark at the same time. When you open the album, you see a picture of all the band members in the studio, four young guys with their instruments scattered around. I put the album on the turn table and swing the arm around and onto the first song. There’s a slight crackle and pop before the song comes blazing out of the speakers. Since this is vinyl, and not a CD, the songs all have a different sound. The vintage sound of a vinyl album is indescribable. It’s like your hearing something from the past. It’s as if the Stooges were sitting in my living room, playing every song on the album. This vintage sound transports me back to 1970. Back to some small bar in Ann Arbor, the Stooges home town, as if I’m actually seeing them live. The sounds of distorted guitars and banging drums fill the air. This album has a live sound to it, which means that the bass guitar is also audible. Iggy’s edgy vocals fill the room. Ron Asheton’s guitar screams in agony. The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. The tempo speeds up and slows down all at the same time. There’s a saxophone belting out notes somewhere in this strange fusion of punk and jazz. This is truly an ear shattering and mind-opening experience. The whole Fun House feeling is over in less than an hour. The darkness made it a surreal experience. I’ve still got goose bumps. This strange twist of early punk and a smattering of jazz made it unique and ground-shaking. This album should only be listened to at a high volume. I spent time in the Fun House, and enjoyed every minute of it. |6


Fifteen Minutes Before School Starts

Katie Abston I exhaustedly turn on the Windows 2000 edition computer that acts like it’s from ’95 and slump wearily into the faded, yet still apparent in its red coloring, lumpy chair at the solid hardwood desk, still trying to recover from the previous, long night. Rubbing my burning eyes in the surprisingly bright light of the desk lamp, I fumble with the stark black Dell mouse for a moment before confidently entering my password to log on to Face book. The computer thinks about it for a moment as the wireless internet can’t make up its mind as to whether or not it wants to stay connected. I grit my teeth in frustration, tense my hands into tights fists and silently wonder if-- yet again-- I would have to turn off the computer and start all over. Aha! The page finally completes its aggravatingly slow load and I look toward the top of the page in anticipation. A wide grin spreads across my face as I see the thing I had been anxiously awaiting all night. Feeling oddly triumphant, as if I had just won a life-or-death duel with the inanimate and invisible wireless internet, I victoriously click on the “New Messages” button, holding my breath because the wait wasn’t over just yet. Even though I had gotten a new message, this did not mean it would turn out to be what I was hoping it would be- the thing that would make my morning absolutely perfect. The wireless internet at my house is a tricky beast, temperamental and sensitive, much harder to deal with than its amenable cousin, the direct-link modem cable. It seems to know in some dark, crafty way when exactly my anticipation reaches its highest, and then pounces, taking advantage of me and crushing my hopes, or at the very least, delaying them. The next page finally comes up, but it is completely blank, and the memo at the bottom of the screen informs me that the link is “Done” loading. I laugh sarcastically at its ignorance and refresh the page with a swift click of my mouse. This time the page loads properly and I smile once again. The message easily lives up to the expectation, having gotten me to laugh before the end of the first sentence. The reply from Michael had arrived at 2:15 am, a measly 11:15pm where he is. This time when I laugh it is more myself as I soak in his sarcastic and witty response. This particular day he was complaining about “alien heads”, aka brussel sprouts. Using the Green Eggs and Ham format from Dr. Seuss, he declared his undying hatred for the horrid green vegetable- his arch nemesis- denying its celebrated quality of diminishing migraines, one of which he had at the time. My response clicks cheerily away, full of my own sarcastic retort, offering alternate remedies, such as sleep, that I already know he will refuse as well. We clash sometimes due to our stubbornness, but I decide in this case that he could have his way. Since we can usually tell quite easily when the other is joking, neither of us takes the other’s protests too seriously. By the time I am finished and hit the “Send” button, my heart feels light and soars over the mundane morning like a hawk flies freely over the grassy plains of the west in mid afternoon, and I find that I am completely awake and eager to get on with my day. If you had asked me even a year ago if such a feeling was possible from simply reading a string of words placed together in a coherent way- and sometimes not even that- I would have laughed and called you strange. But when someone finds secure companionship in the middle of an ever-shifting world, it is a precious gift that should be held on to tightly. So I hold dear to me every one of Michael’s words, be they my favorite of sarcasm and hearty wit, discussions of our faith, or of struggles and sorrows from his end of the world. Communication at its finest is a well tuned machine that brings people together and buoys a person’s mood so that they can face the day, and that is what I have the privilege of experiencing every morning. |7


The Christmas Gift Dedicated to my grandmother. I always promised you a story…

Kayla McDonald

Not so long ago, a precious baby was born upon the night of what we now call Christmas Eve. The day brought happiness and joy to those near and far. Years passed. The baby grew into a man, died and was resurrected. People celebrated his greatness years and years afterward by feasting and having joyous celebrations. But like most great things, the shine began to wear and the meaning of Christmas was all but forgotten. One Christmas Eve, in a year unimportant, a small child wandered the market square. No, the child was not lost. His parents weren’t worried and the child knew his way around, but this has no worth in this tale. The point is the child was wandering. As the child wandered, he glanced around in awe at the decorative lights and the large neon signs declaring a “Merry X-mas” through the drifting snow. Everywhere he turned, people were bustling around with determined faces, leaving shops with carts piled high with the last minute “X-mas” gifts. The roads were crowded with Fords and Toyotas, people driving while conversing frantically on cell phones. Still, the child wandered. His mittened hand slipped into his pocket grasping the single dollar bill that was lying there in hope that it would be used for the perfect holiday gift. Going a little farther into the square, the child caught sight of a lone man leaning against a wall in front of a store. The man was covered only in a long, baggy trench coat and ratty jeans that were wet with snow. The shoes on the feet of the man were cut at the toes exposing his ten toes the color of a sickly blue and in his frostbitten bare hands he held a cardboard sign. Closer…closer… and closer the boy edged toward the man. As the young boy neared, he noticed something wrong with the scene. So many people were filing past the man in a rush. No one asked the man what he wanted. Not a soul stopped to read his sign. No one…stopped… to look…. The young boy bravely walked up to the man and read his sign: ALL I WANT IS A PAIR OF WARM MITTENS Looking down at his small mittened hands the boy spoke for the very first time that night. “My hands are small, and my mittens won’t fit you, but I have a dollar if you want it,” the young boy said, holding out his single dollar bill. The man shook his thin, pale face sadly, gave a slight smile and pointed a shaky finger at his board. The young boy nodded and looked up at the dark night sky as a light flurry of snow began to fall. “Come with me, I don’t live far. I can give you a warm place to sleep and my mommy always has warm food,” he said. Placing the dollar back into his pocket, the child reached up and took the old man’s cold hand in his own. Without letting go, the man’s eyes lit up instantly at the thought of food, placed his cardboard box behind him in the frost and picked up a long wooden cane. That’s when the child realized that this man was old enough to be his grandfather, and compassion filled his young heart. Slowly and ever so gently the little boy led the old man toward his home. As they left the market square, the people with shopping carts made way for the two; those driving cars halted in their rush and |8


let them cross. Before long, the child and the elderly man stood hand in hand in front of a small cottage house—the home of the little boy. After a soft knock, the door opened, and the boy’s mother stood in its place, covered head to toe in flour. The smell of baked pies and cakes wavered out into the night, causing the old man’s mouth to water and a dreamy look to replace the glassy glaze over his eyes. After a look-over and an explanation from the boy (none of which the old man heard due to his daydreaming of fresh, crisp, cinnamon apples), they were both let in by the mother and placed to warm themselves by the lit fireplace. Soon, they were warm and dry, the elder turning a natural shade of pink. Both the child and the man found themselves sitting at a small round table eating plate after plate of heartwarming food. The mother watched at a distance beaming with satisfaction as the old man ate heartily, not leaving a crumb behind. When the meal came to an end and all were full to the brim, the mother re-entered the dining room and presented the man with two packages. Ripping them open, the man beheld a brand new pair of jeans, shoes with closed toes and last but not least, a new pair of black leather mittens. Placing his hand inside of each mitten, the man gave a cry of surprise and pulled out a carefully folded dollar bill. The old man sank back in his chair and thanked the family with saltwater tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. But that wasn’t the end. The old man urged the mother and son to gather round him. Reaching into his inner trench pocket he began to pull out small clay figurines placing them on the table one by one, whispering their names as each became visible. First appeared a young woman holding a baby in her arms, then appeared a man holding a staff, a dozen or so angels, sheep and donkeys and three men on camels holding chests of jewels. Then last of all, the old man pulled out a single star that he held by a string high above the scene he set. After a pause, the man began his story in a deep, strong voice that seemed younger than his years: “Virgin Mary had a baby on the day of what we now call the Eve of Christmas. The babe’s name was Jesus….” That night came and went and dozens more also. The young wandering child grew older and had a family of his own. He never saw that elderly stranger again, no matter how far or wide he wandered, but he never forgot the look on his face when he received his gifts, or the strong voice that told the unforgettable story. Christmas came again as it did every year, the wandering boy, now in his elder years, sat with his wife, children and grandchildren after a hearty supper and fished into his pocket and pulled out the greatest token of his life: the clay star. Holding it high above his head by a thin piece of string, dirtied by years of use, the granddad spoke in a deep, strong voice that seemed younger than his years: “Virgin Mary had a baby on the day of what we now call the Eve of Christmas. The babe’s name was Jesus….” The True Christmas Gift.

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The Moon Warrior Who Created the Stars (Myth)

Megan Davis Around the time when the Earth had just begun, all the following nights were shrouded with darkness, which made it difficult for many animals to find food when dusk arrived. Sadly, most animals had to wait until dawn to find food; so the previous night, they grew hungry. There was only one source of light at nighttime, and that was the moon. The moon was a handsome round warrior named Meta Knight, who gained trust and power when he fought the sun so that the animals could sleep peacefully at night without the rays of the sun disrupting them. One quiet night, the animals gathered at the babbling streams of their river to speak to their moon. The brave deer, with proud antlers that stood like leafless trees upon his head, spoke first, “Oh, our honorable moon, Meta Knight, how can you guide us so that the sky can be lit up for us to see better by?” Meta Knight was a very wise and truthful moon. He peered down at the animals. Meta Knight wore a mask of shining metal that glistened and glowed in the night, but it was not enough light to go around. He also had two bright yellow eyes, but that still wasn’t enough. Meta Knight felt inferior. He was doing so much for the animals that none of them seemed to appreciate. “I have tried as much as I could to help light up the night, but it seems that all of you are taking me for granted. Is this how you treat your moon? The moon that saved you from eternities of light?” spoke the moon with a touch of rage in his voice. The animals looked at each other sheepishly. Then, the shy rabbit spoke, “I don’t mean to anger you, Meta Knight, but you’re not enough. We need something else to help us see in the night.” All of the creature’s eyes opened wide, nervous of what their moon had to say about that. The moon blinked. Behind his mask was a slight frown that was hidden from all the animals. There was no doubt about it, he felt upset because the animals told him he was “not enough.” The animals could already tell that he was upset due to the change of his yellow eyes. Meta Knight’s eyes would change color due to his mood. His eyes turned to a scarlet red, which meant that he was furious. “…All of you! Out of my sight! NOW!” thundered the moon with his deep pounding voice. All of the animals scattered like marbles spilling onto a hard surface. Soon, the area by the river was completely empty. All that was left was the land below the moon, the babbling river, and the unforgiving darkness. As his eyes tempered to his normal eye color, the moon sighed in depression... With his spare time, he let his mind wander. He thought about the animals and how they took him for granted, neither his shining mask nor glowing eyes helped the animals see at night. By this time, his mind began to race with thoughts filled with catastrophic rage. He began to think that the animals were so ungrateful to him that they would rather live without their moon. The more he thought, the quicker his eyes changed from glowing yellow to bloody red. Just then, he was filled with so much anger that he unsheathed his sword, called the Galaxia, and slashed at the dark, night sky. Over and over he lashed, sparks flew, and the blade of his sword became the wind. The sparks burst from his aggressive slashes of his sword and splashed onto the sky, becoming what we now know as stars. After his outburst of fury, he noticed that it was brighter than it usually was. No, there wasn’t a sun rising in the east, yet he found that the sparks of his blade filled the night with a beautiful glow. The animals, who were watching it all happen, came out of their hiding places. “Meta Knight, you did it!” cheered the squirrel. “That was amazing!” squawked the red-tailed hawk. “Thank you for the lovely light! What do you call this masterpiece?” asked the fox. Meta Knight smiled proudly from behind his mask. He viewed all the sparks in the sky and told them, “I call these…stars. Aren’t they beautiful?” “They sure are!” complimented the ferret. “Thanks once again!” chirped the chipmunk. From that moment forward, Meta Knight, the moon, became known as a Star Warrior for creating the stars so that all the animals could rest peacefully with a nightlight, and go out in the night in search of food. The creatures would never forget all that their respectful moon did for them. |10


Cartoons Totally Original, Totally funny.

Adventures of Purple turtle (P.T) Š2008 By Kayla McDonald

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Successful

Jori Griffin I swear I want to be the best Since I was a kid all I wanted was success Put my mind to it and you can see the rest And to all my fans it’s like I have an S on my chest But I waste talent even though I'm so blessed I do it for the girls even though they on my left because I haven't found tha right one But I told myself all I need is the fame But now I trust none and I'm the one to blame But I need money, cars, some fans to scream my name But my mom said my mind needs to be tamed She said I shouldn't’ve let my ego cover my whole brain And even though I'm kind of rude they tell me to keep doin’ my thang And before I leave earth I’m going to leave with a bang And even though I'm getting’ paid I still ain’t buy a chain And I always wanted tha fame but you can have it back because I need to get better at the game

Titleless 4-3-09

Jalylnn Jones Hypocritical mindsets got me bent, got me like a kid in a crib throwing fits I'm sick Feverish is my flow, cause the more I put them on blast the higher their temp is bound to go, look out their gonna blow I'm a realist, not conceited, but my flow is the illest, Can't deny it cause the way you're staring at me with your mouth wide open lets me know that I'm already killing. Lies told got me floating in mid-air but this ain’t a magic trick So when the lies told and I'm left alone I hit the ground cold, eyes closed. R.I.P to those gone, now let’s sing a song that will inspire us to carry on. Except you're gone staring of into space, surrounded by a bunch of clowns that say, “why so serious lets put a smile on that face", then out comes the blade and the nightmare fades away And then its down the rabbit hole like Alice where you'll end up you never know. Lost In a world of confusion where hatred is a mindset, love imprisoned I'm Kidding! The world can't be that bad, except at the age of 12, guess what you're gonna be a DAD! So now you mad cause your dreams of being a millionaire are nothing but dust in the wind, and you working at BK but you aint getting it yo way but its the only job you can get to support your kid. Men or should I say boys, you thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy its strategy you need to leave that girl alone. And girls don't laugh ‘cause you just as much in the wrong you need to keep your legs closed! But I’mma move on, I like how you staring at me like I'm an animal at the zoo. But the sign says don’t feed the animals so I don't want your poisonous food. I don't want your lies, and I don't want your hate! You're simply a disgrace to the human race. But most importantly I hate these I think I'm cold stares, these I'm better than you glares, that you giving me. Sorry to correct you but you coming at me wrong. You must have your reflection confused with mine, like through the looking glass you must've thought your reflection was mine, but don't get it twisted; like Neo, I control the bullets that fly. If you confused: simply, I control time!

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Ink Blot The Fine Art of Lincoln High‌ 5

Featured Art:

1. Brianna: Purple/blue Emilie Beck

2. Untitled Jason Nguyen

3. The Leaping Tree

2

Keely Battle

4. Untitled Natalie Czinski

1

5. Hard Core Corndogs Leslie Bell

4

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Almost Famous 2009 | 2010


Contents: 14

The Library Karen Dunstan Odd Boy Out

16

A moonlit night” Katie Abston “Dark Sin” Da’Merius Ford “When Will It Arrive?”

17

Kelli Dorsey 15

Revolution Jimmy Jackson Because He Isn’t Gonna Want Me With You Around

Katie Kaspala

Tale of the Average Joe Craig Gamboe

Devin Markey

Odd Boy Out

Kelli Dorsey The Library Karen Dunstan Silence Blanketing, enclosing. Soft cushioned sound Caressing ears and mind And eyes and toes. Weight of a thousand words, Pressing gently yet firmly on the air, Hushed and reverent. Peace and calm in the hurricane. Balance and a center.

Odd boy out. The lost boy…better known as a loser, His emotions played as toys. Battered self esteems get a kick out of it. Maybe if… Deplumed, battered, and hardened He’ll outcast himself and hide. Odd boy of glory, tell me your story, Let me understand your ways! Lost boy out, I have no doubt That if they chose to care, Dustin, you’d be here.

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“Dark Sin”

Da’Merius Ford

“A Moonlit Night”

Katie Abston A moonlit night, with the heavens above filled with stars does much to sooth my distraught soul. This life demands such a heavy load. I know not what price I will have to pay in the end, but I do know, deep in my heart, it will be worth it.

My lady’s eyes are nothing like the sun. Elegance flowing like a wind’s night breeze. Golden and rich steamed waters smoothly run. Our hearts sway with amusing tender ease. Surely am I loved by the one of heart Although, anger disrupts the life I’ve made. Therefore, I take my life out of this tart. Last kiss, for I am beginning to fade. Gone for now, fighting rigid until I win Seen you’ll be in the life that’s yet to come. A tragedy that involves a dark sin. For my death gives me a sense of glum Upon the pleasant earth of which one weeps... Today above the stars of which one sleeps...

“When will it Arrive?”

Devin Markey I know you’re coming, you’ve been expected for so long by so many. Why do you hide in the shadows, as though you can’t be seen? I’ll keep my ear close to the ground so that I may hear you coming. Although you may travel softly and swiftly and occasionally with some sort of fierce vengeance, I know you are on your way. I’ve heard stories of you. I’ve seen some who have met you. Although they don’t speak a word of your visit, I can see it in their face. You play your game of hide and seek and yet you are not so hard to find. How do we drown a Nightmare without closing our eyes? How do we keep our eyes closed at so many foes? How do we feel but still not know the pain? Where are our hearts? We know the past and have walked the miles, yet weep for the future that passes the smiles. I’ll keep you here, for I know what is true to me, for the sake of this world we should all open our eyes and just try to see, where are you today? You are far or near, what are you doing? Do you have any fears?

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Revolution

Jimmy Jackson Stop sittin on your hands within the time fly by While there over there dropping bombs Kentucky fried I’m spittin these rhymes Not to entertain you But divided they have power and fire But divided they have no soul That’s what we have to untie And create one voice Take a stand Against the man And place an ad like this: “Revolutionaries want” Wanted for a cause I can believe in But can you? How many young men have to die In the old man’s war Death on CNN has you begging for more Committing acts of war for acts of peace Thirty armed blackbirds will come crashing through my door Just because I wrote this This piece of paper with venom in the meaning Venom poisoning your way of thinking They have guns But I have a pen the will to use it I am a free thinker I am the one they fear Give Peace A Chance The war is over (if you want it be)

Because He Isn’t Gonna Want Me with You Around

Katie Kaspala I look at you, as you stare at me And I wonder about our destiny I never said a word to you, And you never spoke to me But somehow I just know… I know that you’re that girl, That other girl. The girl that’s going to break my heart, Because he isn’t gonna want me with You around. You’re gonna make up for what I lack And when I'm not there you’ll pick Up the slack. The crumbs I leave; you’re gonna steal And make yourself a cake. You’re gonna dot his 'i’s' and cross his 't's' And convince him he’s too good for me You’re gonna swear that he’s your number one And make him forget his only one You’ll convince him that that our love is lust And that I’m not the girl to trust You’re gonna break my heart into a million pieces and tear me apart By making him question this love in my heart This love that has nothing to do with you

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Tale of the Average Joe Craig Gamboe Prologue: Tale of the Average Joe My name is Bill, I’m an average Joe One Autumn day, when the air was cool I’ve got black hair that’s in a spiked row I had just gotten off work and went to the school I don’t have glasses ‘cause I have great sight My kids to get, three in all I’m average build and standard height That’s when it happened; I was appalled! I’m a skinny white guy with a bushy beard On the way to the office, I did go And have an ear that’s double speared But I felt a great pain, and had a big blow My arms are short; my legs are hairy I had some sliders the night before My bowels give me trouble since I have dysentery That’s why my intestines had turned to gore. This is my tale, as you can see When I walked through the door, I made a quick turn It’s all about being as prepared as you can be. ‘Cause all of a sudden it started to burn. As I got my kids and ran to the car, It soon became clear that I wasn’t gonna get very far. I began to realize as I drove down the street, That this burning and churning, I could beat. I didn’t live very far, so it was a short ride But the pressure began to build, no matter how hard I tried To keep it within would be such a sin So I left my car, and grabbed my kin. While running to the house, I had another great blow But I kept on running, letting my motor go. Up the stairs I went, doubled over and bent, The odor’s so foul, I need to repent. As I glide through the door, my rump very sore I ran to the can to make my score The pressure relieved, I couldn’t believe My deposit, the faithful toilet received The roll became empty, I needed some more Unfortunately, the extra was behind the cabinet door I stretched and I leaned, how far could I go? I wondered and wondered, is this bathroom friend or foe? Then tissues I got, from the box on the back Am I a plumber, I wondered as I filled the crack. My problem was solved, no more issues had I; Once again I became a contented, average guy. What can you learn from this tale that’s been told? Always be prepared; from young until old.

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MORE:

Vic Malcom

How to Pick Up a Girl in Four Easy Steps Girls are by far the most complicated, confusing people in the world. Happy one minute then mad the next, girls are a complex jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. With this knowledge, it should be to no surprise that most men are genuinely afraid of approaching women. Well, have no fear. Laid out in the following steps are four foolproof steps to picking up a girl.

1 2 3 4

It’s important to know that you can meet a girl virtually anywhere, so always look your best. Try to go for a look that would attract your type. If you’re into preppy girls, dress in Hollister or Abercrombie & Fitch. Rich Girls? Try sporting business casual or a suite. Also, wear clothes that suit your body type. If you are of muscular build, a tight fitting t-shirt will accentuate your muscles. It is also important that your clothes fit well. A five hundred dollar tuxedo is pointless if it is too big or too small. Most importantly, you need to demonstrate good grooming habits. You don’t need to manscape or anything, but take care of your hair and fingernails, and always have good-smelling breath. You have to let the girl know that you’re interested. Girl’s, in general, love attention and love feeling like they’re pretty. Look, but don’t stare at the girl you’re interested in. A glance (about a one-Mississippi in length) will do just fine. Many times, it will make a girl curious when she notices you acknowledging her. If you then smile at her, with a nice genuine smile, it will act as a hint that you think she’s attractive. Throughout the whole four-step process, keep in mind that we’re trying to make the girl feel special. This second step will definitely accomplish this. The third step is always the hardest and most failed step, and it takes a tremendous amount of courage. You need to approach her. This step seems very scary, and to be quite honest, it is. You may feel a knot in your throat form nervousness right before you walk towards her, and as a result chicken out. Many guys get cold feet and just plain refuse to go up to the girl. I believe this stems from a fear of rejection. This is a logical fear, but if she doesn’t like you, then so what? Try to have confidence in yourself to remedy this fear and don’t focus on the negative things that could happen. Just take a deep breath, and go up to her.

After this nauseating task, talk to her. Ditch the icebreaker lines, though. This is a definite no-no. Ice breakers like “Are you from Tennessee, cause you’re the only ten I see” or “Do you know how much a polar bear weighs? Enough to break the Ice,” start to get repetitive. It is good to be original. Just talk to her normally. If you are still having trouble, pretend she is another one of your buddies, but don’t use any nasty jokes. Girls won’t appreciate this and some may feel threatened. You should always keep it clean and be chivalrous. Try to find something you both have in common to make a connection. After you’ve talked to her for a while, you’re home free. Just casually ask her for her phone number and continue to woo her with your charm. Like I said before, there is no sense in being afraid to approach and talk to a girl. As long as you’re friendly and funny, chances are that she’ll like you. Also, make sure to follow this guide according to order. My steps are arranged in a hierarchy, with each step building on the previous one. While it’s true, all women are different and like different things, you can’t go wrong following these four easy steps. |18


Your new name is Seabiscuit… -T.S

~ When I’m old, for Halloween, I’ll give kids toothpaste and deodorant…. -D. P

Oh my gosh, they’re golden! ~CG

On Thanksgiving Day I usually eat the legs of the turkey… -JD I only eat the sides -KM Wait, I though you were a veggie… -JD Once upon a math class: ~To find, long divide and throw out the remainder -M.N ~Can’t we just recycle? -J.D

OVERHEARD In Pre-Calc one day… Any questions? ~M.N. Can I eat my radius? ~A.W.

~She’s fine, she just has a mental disorder but its no biggie. - D.M

~Is she crazy? -M.G ~ No, she’s just high on sugar… -D.N

Homeroom in Mrs. Huber’s 3rd hour… Lots of people died Lots of people cried Lots of people tried To save other lives But in the end People rose To pray for those They loved the most Who died on 9/11 That sad day.

One…Two Three…FOUR How many numbers How many more? Kyle Deuel

Andrew Dillon

~ I’m sorry to burst your bubble but vampires don’t sparkle. -M.S

~I’m hungry…CG ~I have pudding…J ~Do you have a spoon? CG ~yeah…J ~can I eat it? CG

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Recycle this magazine: share it with a friend! |20


Almost Famous Fall/Winter