Category: Junior Literary

As an MSA student, I can firmly say that my Sundays, without fail, are exactly the same. I wake up around 11:00pm after getting a solid night’s sleep for the first time in two weeks; I sleepily trudge downstairs with an objective: move my clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. I am greeted by my dog, excitedly shaking the rubber bone he carries in his mouth. I make the same two grilled ham and cheese sandwiches that I always do and pour out the crushed remains of the same lightly seasoned tortilla chips my parents started buying a few months ago. I eat, go back upstairs, and begin to back my things. It doesn’t take as long as it used to because I’ve finally learned how to appropriately pack for a weekend.

My dad arrives around 3:30pm. I’m already sitting in the living room with my mom; my luggage waits for me in the laundry room. I greet him and my stepmom, hug my mom goodbye, and bring my things to the car with help from all my parents. We chat about mundane things, but the conversation is still comfortable, even fun at times. My dad pulls into the drive through at a McDonald’s in Collins, just like we always do, and I hold onto my food as we cut the long, sharp turn that takes us back to Highway 84. I gaze out the window as I sip on my drink; the familiar taste of a strawberry-banana smoothie dances around my mouth.

As I stare at the greenery flying past, something dawns on me. I will only make this trip twice more before everything shifts. Realization sinks in. An entire year’s worth of trips from Soso to Brookhaven awaits me, but after May 16th, I will not drive here with the intention of greeting the same people, nor with the standards I have placed on myself as a junior literary student. While I make my first solo trip in my new car, the class of ‘21 will be spread out across the country, turning the page in the first chapter of their new lives, and the upcoming class of juniors will be anxiously fiddling in the backseat of their parents’ car as I did on move-in day. I will be faced with an abundance of new responsibilities and obligations, and I will not be the person I am in this moment.

The drive continues, despite the sinking pit in my stomach. The drive continues, despite how desperately I don’t want this chapter of my life to close. The drive continues, because it’s time to turn the page.

I glance back up at the trees on my right. It’s a straight shot from my house to MSA: ninety minutes of the same road and the same trees I’ve passed dozens of times before. A strange feeling rises in my chest, and I tell myself it is because everything around me looks different now, that I’m seeing things through a new perspective. But, that’s not true. This sensation only comes from my acknowledgement of the sameness. Instead of trying to find significance where there is none or searching for beauty where I know I don’t see it, I try to absorb my perception at this very moment. I intake the rattle of the car against the cracked streets and the way the bright sun makes my eyes squint. The sound of the seats rattling in the car, and the smudges on the window. The whirl of green that’s so intense it is nauseating at times. The static cutting through subpar music as we break past the limits of our local radio stations.

All students take a unique journey to MSA, in both a literal and figurative sense. No one will make a trip identical to yours; nobody else will pull out of your driveway and into the driveway of the school with the same perspective, the same emotions. Not a soul on this earth will get the gaze on the world around you with the same lenses that you hold presently, in this exact period of your life. On your next trip here, inhale the moment and let it fill your lungs before it becomes a fleeting memory that you only recognize when the shift happens. Cherish and document who you are now, because once you evolve into the more mature, sculpted version of yourself, it’ll be gone forever.

 

To Whomever Wishes To Go See What Lives In the Mountains And the Forests. 


     An old house. A father in his study, a mother off traveling, a girl left to roam the family’s woods. That’s what’s in the Mountains. That’s one of the things that find you in the Woods. Trees as old and as dangerous as the Mountains they cover. Beautiful Woods. Ancient Woods. Woods of Betrayal. 
     I call them Woods but they are Forests, said to have been growing since the beginning of time. They house strange beats, odd wonderlands, and those that want to hide. Those woods are said to hold the secrets of the universe written in their bark. It is said that their roots reach to the center of the earth’s heart. If you get lost in those woods just adapt, for you have no hope of coming out alive. But if you are careful - if you are cautious - if you bring gifts to the Spirits of Forests, then you might be able to escape only slightly crazed and dazed, but you will quite certainly be amazed. 
     You still want to go? You still want to try? If you are that dead set then these I would sincerely suggest you go find. 


Go find the girl who talks. Keep in mind, she won't say a word. But she can tell you secrets about that world. 

Go find the hole in the house, sat beneath an oak tree. After you find it, you’ll need a new key. 

Go find a bird of sunset, who has yet to fly. If you answer just right you can ask for a guide. 

Go find the writer and ask for his stories. They’ll tell you what to find and where to wander without worries. 

Go find the artist who captures memories. Search through her collection but do not give her yours. 

Go find the twilight but wait until after the morning. This is important. If you don’t then you’ll never see the dawn. 


     These are just the first - they’re as far as I got. If you go any farther then I suggest you keep watch. The things in that forest are not as they seem - for the sweet will be mean and the mean will just scream. If you find a small thing, avoid at all costs. If you happen upon a big just act like you're lost. If you see a young tree then you better help it sprout, but beware the old oaks and what hang about. 
     I know this is cryptic, but it's the best I’ve still got. If you wait just an hour then you’ll get a head start. 


Traveler I beg you - trust this Old Man. For I have seen things you will never understand. 

This is a letter about a forest in another world. This is a letter written to those who like to wander. This is a warning. It hints at ways to survive a magical forest that tends to be just outside of normal in terrifying ways. This letter is written by someone who has braved those woods, came out fast enough to keep his good sense, and continued to live to tell his stories. Others don’t come out so lucky, and most just don’t come out at all. 

I don’t really have anything to blog about so I’m just gonna talk about how I have been doing lately, spoiler alert, not good.  With many deadlines fast approaching and my motivation getting increasingly lower I am not sure I can keep up.  Our literary portfolios are due this week and I’m still not finished and I am struggling for motivation.  I’m struggling to just have the energy to get out of the bed and do something.  

I’m trying to combat this with things I enjoy.  The other day I watched shows with my friend over discord.  It was a nice time to just relax and take my mind off of things.  Sometimes you just need to take a break, and that is fine.

Working yourself to death won’t do anything but make your work look rushed.  Taking breaks is essential to keeping yourself productive; and also to your mental health.  

Balance is a key element that helps keep yourself in order.  A mix of pleasure and work is typically the best course of action to get your work done and not become too overworked.  

Try taking a minute to do something you enjoy.  It will help in the long run.  Talk to your friends, play your favorite video game, maybe just take a snack break, it really doesn’t matter as long as you can take breaks.

Remember your health is more important than a school assignment, no matter what the school system tries to tell you.

Handsome, in Black

tight coils expand when pulled

your marked melanin skin

glimmers in the sun

 

  You’ve always caught my eye

 

Nose, Wide and Flat

a feature of yours I favor most

 

eyes deep set and Brown

draw me closer in

hard to escape but

easy to get lost in

 

I’ve imagined our next encounter,

This Moment

where things have progressed,

headspaces cleared

hearts willing and ready

 

Here Comes My Favorite Part

 

Strong, built arms to engulf me

providing a missed comfort

my equally wide nose

catches whiff of your scent

Cocoa and Pine

Finally, I get sense that I’m back home

I am once more entranced by You

 

Lost in the stretches on your coffee brown skin

I realize that this is paradise

my own slice of Heaven

a Holy experience

etched black

Boy

 

Free of worry

Full of love

Engulfed Entirely by Brown

This poem entitled, “Brown”, won me my first Scholastics Award. I did not expect this poem to win.  I didn’t want to submit before. After I got the opinion of a friend and peer, I had decided that I would submit this piece and it was the only one that one. I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to say but don’t be so hard on your creations. I’ve noticed that writing I usually don’t take an initial liking too usually get the most praise in workshops.

Please, never doubt your creative abilities or your talents. You are gifted and special in your craft. Nurture it. Take care of it. Work on it and watch it blossom into what you knew it could always be.

Harbor Your Potential Friends.

Noelle Noelle

 

 

 

 

    Hey guys. I know I normally write about cooking, but today I just didn’t feel it.

It’s that time of the year again. Yep. Spring. Everyone  has a few months out of the year where they just feel sad. Mine are in the winter and spring. Yes Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s Day, Easter, and Prom. Those events have one thing in common: companionship. 

The winter holidays are one of the most stressful times of the year. First there’s the pressure of exams-fun. Then there is the pressure of buying the perfect gift for your loved ones and panicking if you got the wrong one. The stress of going home for the holidays. And for us students dealing with COVID, the stress of being quarantined during the holidays (me). 

But for me, the worst part of these events is being lonely. I’ve always been alone. I’ve never had any real friendships that have lasted. I’ve definitely never had any relationships that were good.

So, every Christmas, while my friends are doing secret Santa or throwing parties without me, or my sister spending all of her time with her boyfriend, I do anything to take my mind off of my loneliness. I play video games, or listen to the unbelievably cringy depressing music that makes me numb inside. When it gets really bad and I can’t stand it, I go outside and find a remote part in my humongous yard, play some Chester Bennington, and cry until I get mad. Then I start pulling the soft clover from the ground and rip up fallen leaves. It helps and… just for a few minutes I’m no longer angry. I’m just…sad.

But the spring is different.  In the spring, I’m here at school. There’s no peaceful beds of clover for me to unleash my wrath upon, there’s no crying into my sister’s shirt, there’s no blaring Linkin Park in my empty dorm. There’s only crying in my shower for hours playing quiet classical piano until my legs can no longer hold myself up. There’s only shielding people’s questions about prom plans because I can’t tell them that I don’t think I could survive watching them dance happily with loved ones. There’s only sitting alone at meals with my headphones in to mask my anxiety and sadness. There’s only skipping those mealtimes so I don’t feel so lonely in the crowds. There’s only me avoiding everyone who flocks to do school activities. There’s only friendships that don’t last and love that never blooms. 

If you’re anything like me, high school (and everything that came before it) was probably filled with an overpowering sense of anxiety and doubt. What your peers and teachers could think of you would swarm in your mind like wasps, and at times, they would sting. It’s a horrible feeling to constantly feel as if you weren’t good enough by being yourself, and it can have disastrous effects on your psyche. As someone who was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder in 8th grade (among other things), I can say improving and learning to accept yourself isn’t easy. At all. Yes, therapy and medication can help, but most of the progress has to come from YOU. I’ve learned that. 

The first step is to challenge your anxious thoughts and try and replace them with positive ones, if possible. Funnily enough, this is still the hardest part for me. Ask yourself, “can I prove if this thought is accurate?” if the answer is no, ask yourself “so why am I assuming the negative?” If your answer isn’t based on the actual situation or is “I don’t know.” Then congrats! You’ve identified an irrational thought! My most common response was usually “You can’t read minds! There’s no way to tell what they’re thinking!” And, well, that’s right. It’s always been what I struggled the most with. But when you’re faced with an unknown like this, choose the positive possibility. It’s a VERY hard practice to get down, but with a bit of practice, you can convince yourself. Instead of “Everyone here thinks I look stupid today. I should have just worn normal clothes,” try “Everyone here is admiring my style and individuality today! I’m the main character!” Now, which one of these thoughts would make you feel better? The one fueled by anxiety, or the one that makes you feel the slightest bit of confidence?

Next, use those positive thoughts to inch your way into the world. As someone who spent 90% of my middle school and early high school years indoors and on my computer, getting used to social situations like dances, big sleepovers, and parties is DEFINITELY too much for a push. Sit with those people you thought were nice and cool at lunch! Invite people to sit with you! Engage with people really around you and not hundreds of miles away. You’ll gain a few friends, and while this may cause new anxious thoughts, it’s well worth it. Soon, you’ll begin to move onto the next and final stage that I like to call-

“The Art of Not Caring.”

(see what i did there?)

This is the phase where you can be unapologetically yourself in every aspect. You can build off of “I can’t know what people think of me, so I’ll assume the positive!” to eventually confront actual negative opinions with “Who cares if a few people *do* think poorly of me because of my quirks? Does their opinion really matter?” That, of course, shouldn’t be focused towards actually harmful parts about yourself, but rather towards self expression and loving yourself. The Art of Not Caring is the goal here, and while I’m still working towards it, I encourage you all to go on this journey along with me. :)))))

ALSO:

If you’re reading this and would also like to branch out of your shell, the Animation Appreication Club (that I so wonderly created, mwah) is hosting a viewing of Promare (2019) in the Phoenix at 7:00 Thursday. It is one of my favorite movies of all time and is an absolute BLAST.  This is your invitation.

 

On December 11th, 2021, popular English content creator and songwriter Wilbur Soot released his sixth single, a fun, upbeat tune titled “Your New Boyfriend.” It is the third in a series that follows the protagonist, Lonely Boy’s, infatuation with an e-girl, the prototypical version of which is a young woman who spends an atypical amount of time online–whether it be gaming, posting, cosplaying–and whose style is inspired from both European alternative and Asian street fashions. On the surface, this song appears to be an amusing, lighthearted track, perfect to belt out the lyrics to on a road trip with friends and head bang to the beat on the way to an afternoon class. Behind the comedic lyrics and unforgettable melodies, there lies the disturbing yet common story of an outcast finding solace in his obsession and parasocial relationship with a Twitch streamer. Littered with metaphors and allusions, Wilbur Soot charmed this intense cautionary into the minds of over two million unsuspecting listeners.

Soot repeatedly references the age of Lonely Boy to characterize him as fixated and fanatic. In the first stanza, the narrator recalls, “When I was a kid on VoIP / I thought when I get older / I’d marry her, I told her / Now I’m 26 and I work in an office.” He alludes to VoIP, aka Voice over Internet Protocol, which is an older program used to make telephone calls from a computer. In the chorus, Lonely Boy says, “Oh, she’s living the dream / From back when we were 17.” These excerpts of the music tell the listener that his potent obsession has been brewing inside for nearly a decade and ultimately raises the stakes for the streamer’s safety. He sings about the beautiful love he believes is shared between them, but in reality, he is a stalker desperate to fulfill his fantasy of having the perfect relationship with this woman. This is known as a parasocial relationship, where one person extends emotional energy while the other is completely unaware of his or her existence. Lonely Boy vents, “You hit it off instantly / I know ‘cause you won’t stop telling me.” This relationship is entirely one-sided, so she’s not intentionally communicating anything to him; because the setting of this story is their shared online space, the listener can assume that she is posting on social media about her boyfriend. Lonely Boy feels that she is telling him personally about her new relationship.

Lonely Boy is convinced that he is the only person who could make her happy, and that despite all of his flaws, he would be the ideal partner and provider. He says, “I’ve got the key and he’s just a doormat / ‘Cause even though he’s got social skills / That doesn’t mean I can’t pay the bills.” The writer uses the metaphor of the current boyfriend being a doormat to further Lonely Boy’s perception that her relationship is a place for her to wipe her feet while traveling down the path of genuine connection, a path that leads to a door for which he exclusively holds the key.  Despite his irritation with the situation, the tone of the song stays joyful, showing that he does not hold her accountable for the perceived mistakes she makes. Soot further unravels the delusions of the protagonist by introducing the fact that he feels attraction to the woman’s partner. Towards the end of the song, Lonely Boy admits, “I think about him a lot as well (I think about him) / Maybe if he wasn’t fine as hell (he’s really fine as hell.)” He is so infatuated with this person that he favors all the things she does, including people, despite being neither romantically nor sexually attracted to men. 

From the cheerful tone to the playful, strategically-placed adlibs, this song is ultimately disarming. Being a twitch streamer himself, Wilbur Soot understands that this is a serious issue that plagues female streamers. He utilizes figurative language to weave this chilling story into a bright, colorful basket that his fans would find easier to digest. Presented with the archetype of the lonely man, the popular woman, and her seemingly perfect partner, the listeners are given circumstances that they would typically find themselves chuckling at. Not everyone who streams the track takes the time to unpack the complex story behind it, but Soot has planted a subconscious seed of familiarity that will sound off alarm bells for those witnessing or operating in a similar situation.

Looking at my class schedule for junior year, I am terrified by the idea of taking poetry. I have never done well with abstract concepts, nor am I quite sure how my writer’s voice will translate from paragraphs to stanzas. Unexpectedly, a specific type of poetry becomes my favorite genre to write; the form is narrative poetry and tells a complete tale through developed characters and evolving situations. In “Inscriptions of an Illusory Inamorato, a sestina”, I explore the narrative of a lonely, naïve woman coming to terms with her lover and correspondent’s deception. As I analyze this piece and consider how it can translate into fashion, I examine the imagery and word choice that coat the poem in a warm tone, the intensity of the metaphors, the rigidness of the structure, and the time period in which the story takes place. 

This is a time where letter writing is the primary form of communication and distance between companions is a feat to close. The narrator would wear her hair down, in braided or twisted sections, because she craves the feeling of being desired that comes from presenting femininely but needs something practical that will not physically distract her from her activities. The structure of this poem is very formal and this is because I want to illustrate that this affair nor the characters are casual; the clothing is expensive, elegant, and bridal because for a time, the narrator is attached to a sophisticated person whom she believes is the love of her life. I incorporated the use of warm tones in the dress, shoes, accessories, and makeup because the recurring words burned, heatwave, and warmth and lines such as “…your expressions struck and burned the pale skin of my cheeks with shameful blotches of flushed warmth” all spark red and orange imagery. The makeup look is bold and intense because, like the metaphor of a heatwave implies, this relationship is intense, passionate, and suffocating; the inspiration for dark lip and eyeshadow shades came from the line, “…I inhaled the ashes of us and required no solace.” 

The outfit reflects the changed nature of the narrator. She still bears the polished outlook the pen-pal instilled in her through their exchanges, as well as the trauma from their toxic relationship. The dress is a reminder of both the past and her personal worth; she no longer wears it for her partner but for herself. She has immeasurable endurance and assuredness in herself and her decision to seek revenge by torturously refusing to read the love interest’s letters, as shown by the striking cosmetic application. Overall, she has a strong, confident energy surrounding her despite being scorned by the relationship.