Special Features
Is Spring Fun?
Maysa Saadeddin
Spring was near and now it's here
I can’t wait to be able to play and use my sports gear
Going to the park
Walking my dog
Wondering what could go wrong
Then after a while, something was bothering me
My nose started running and I was getting sweaty
I was a mess with my allergies
My eyes were getting watery and my springtime started to get disappointing
It was really annoying
but I looked at the flowers and...
I played basketball with my friends
Had a picnic under a big tree
We went down the block and got ice cream
We’re all glad; it’s now spring and the cold is gone
Hold on!!!!! Finals are coming…..Better go study -- all night long!!
I can’t wait to be able to play and use my sports gear
Going to the park
Walking my dog
Wondering what could go wrong
Then after a while, something was bothering me
My nose started running and I was getting sweaty
I was a mess with my allergies
My eyes were getting watery and my springtime started to get disappointing
It was really annoying
but I looked at the flowers and...
I played basketball with my friends
Had a picnic under a big tree
We went down the block and got ice cream
We’re all glad; it’s now spring and the cold is gone
Hold on!!!!! Finals are coming…..Better go study -- all night long!!
Art piece
Shalen Tully
Bittersweet Awareness
Eva Szocik
As I observe my reflection through the thick glass bathroom mirror, I see nothing but the stains fabricated this morning as I brushed my teeth.
I don’t know anything. I don’t know a single thing.
I am like a jelly-filled donut; covered in frosting and sprinkles on the outside and jelly in the center, but with an evident hole hidden inside. You’d think a donut would know something, if it were to know anything at all. It would know that it’s going to get eaten and later perish inside the remains of one’s esophagus and slowly-or fastly, depending on one’s metabolism- formulate into waste that will later end up in the sewers below all of our shoes. A donut may know its purpose, or what it is. I sure don’t.
As my eyes try to close, my mind fights to stay awake as I lie in bed at night. I decide to open my eyes and sit up and look around at the room where I’ve slept hundreds and hundreds of nights. I find it strange that I’ve spent hours and hours in this room, and I still don’t know where I am. How long does one have to spend somewhere to be truly and completely aware of where they are?
At my 10th birthday party Auntie Linda asked me, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” I, with only 10 years of absent-minded experience supporting my weight, said, “I want to be a famous singer.” All I knew at the time was that I loved the TV show Hannah Montana, and I eventually had wanted to be famous just like her. “What are your dreams?” is what my mother asked my six-year old self one night as I laid in bed staring up at her safe, beautiful face with dazed and tired eyes. I held merely six years of absent-minded experience here. What was I supposed to say? I decided to tell her, “I want to get a lot of horses and ride them every day.” My six-year old brain didn’t know what a dream was, or what anything was for that matter. Frankly, in the present day, as I hold 16 years of absent-minded experience, I still don’t know what a dream is, or what anything is for that matter. Like a caterpillar initially emerging into being a butterfly, I was new and naive, as I still am.
When a baby is born, they are known to immediately cry as they are first freshly plunged into their existence. When I was born, my crying was strangely delayed. As a baby, my parents claim that I was very- almost strangely- happy. I smiled more than I cried, and was like a little ray of sunshine. Hearing stories about my childhood from family members, I am almost jealous. It’s an empty kind of jealousy, really. I wonder; however, why they get the privilege of remembering how I was when I was three, while I don’t? Should this be an inconvenience, or should I be almost grateful for this lack of remembrance of my younger self? If I had a decent recollection of my childhood, would I know something?
Emptiness wouldn’t describe me, because I am quite full. However, I don’t know exactly what the substance inside of me is. As I walk my black lab Boomer down the street I’ve lived all my life, I wonder to myself what I truly know. All of these questions that I am unable to answer come to mind, and I don’t know what to tell myself. I don’t know if I should reassure myself that everything’s going to be okay, or worry until I pop like a water balloon.
It’s the worst experience that’s ever existed to stare at the ceiling before falling asleep and ponder your own existence. It’s not the kind of pondering that is sweet and a sort of peaceful kind of existentialism. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, and it’s not at all a good or pleasant feeling. We’re all going to die, I think to myself. The world is going to go on forever and ever and ever, and I won’t be alive for eternity. I’m going to die. I get terribly scared, and I believe that nothing can help me. I wonder: What is death? I also wonder if it’s something that I need to be afraid of, or something that would be worth it and beneficial to accept the reality of.
I’m a needle in the humungous haystack of the world, and I don’t know if I will ever be found. Maybe everything’s going to be okay; maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t know anything. Maybe one day I will.
“How are you doing today?” is a question I used to dread. Now, I look at that question as an opportunity to explore myself. How am I doing? Mindfulness is something I long to master. Maybe if I master something like mindfulness I will know something about the world and myself.
As I look in the mirror, I don’t see anything but the stains on it fabricated this morning as I brushed my teeth. I don’t know who or where I am, and I don’t know where I am going. But I do see stains, which means I see something. If I see something, maybe that means I know something too.
I don’t know anything. I don’t know a single thing.
I am like a jelly-filled donut; covered in frosting and sprinkles on the outside and jelly in the center, but with an evident hole hidden inside. You’d think a donut would know something, if it were to know anything at all. It would know that it’s going to get eaten and later perish inside the remains of one’s esophagus and slowly-or fastly, depending on one’s metabolism- formulate into waste that will later end up in the sewers below all of our shoes. A donut may know its purpose, or what it is. I sure don’t.
As my eyes try to close, my mind fights to stay awake as I lie in bed at night. I decide to open my eyes and sit up and look around at the room where I’ve slept hundreds and hundreds of nights. I find it strange that I’ve spent hours and hours in this room, and I still don’t know where I am. How long does one have to spend somewhere to be truly and completely aware of where they are?
At my 10th birthday party Auntie Linda asked me, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” I, with only 10 years of absent-minded experience supporting my weight, said, “I want to be a famous singer.” All I knew at the time was that I loved the TV show Hannah Montana, and I eventually had wanted to be famous just like her. “What are your dreams?” is what my mother asked my six-year old self one night as I laid in bed staring up at her safe, beautiful face with dazed and tired eyes. I held merely six years of absent-minded experience here. What was I supposed to say? I decided to tell her, “I want to get a lot of horses and ride them every day.” My six-year old brain didn’t know what a dream was, or what anything was for that matter. Frankly, in the present day, as I hold 16 years of absent-minded experience, I still don’t know what a dream is, or what anything is for that matter. Like a caterpillar initially emerging into being a butterfly, I was new and naive, as I still am.
When a baby is born, they are known to immediately cry as they are first freshly plunged into their existence. When I was born, my crying was strangely delayed. As a baby, my parents claim that I was very- almost strangely- happy. I smiled more than I cried, and was like a little ray of sunshine. Hearing stories about my childhood from family members, I am almost jealous. It’s an empty kind of jealousy, really. I wonder; however, why they get the privilege of remembering how I was when I was three, while I don’t? Should this be an inconvenience, or should I be almost grateful for this lack of remembrance of my younger self? If I had a decent recollection of my childhood, would I know something?
Emptiness wouldn’t describe me, because I am quite full. However, I don’t know exactly what the substance inside of me is. As I walk my black lab Boomer down the street I’ve lived all my life, I wonder to myself what I truly know. All of these questions that I am unable to answer come to mind, and I don’t know what to tell myself. I don’t know if I should reassure myself that everything’s going to be okay, or worry until I pop like a water balloon.
It’s the worst experience that’s ever existed to stare at the ceiling before falling asleep and ponder your own existence. It’s not the kind of pondering that is sweet and a sort of peaceful kind of existentialism. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, and it’s not at all a good or pleasant feeling. We’re all going to die, I think to myself. The world is going to go on forever and ever and ever, and I won’t be alive for eternity. I’m going to die. I get terribly scared, and I believe that nothing can help me. I wonder: What is death? I also wonder if it’s something that I need to be afraid of, or something that would be worth it and beneficial to accept the reality of.
I’m a needle in the humungous haystack of the world, and I don’t know if I will ever be found. Maybe everything’s going to be okay; maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t know anything. Maybe one day I will.
“How are you doing today?” is a question I used to dread. Now, I look at that question as an opportunity to explore myself. How am I doing? Mindfulness is something I long to master. Maybe if I master something like mindfulness I will know something about the world and myself.
As I look in the mirror, I don’t see anything but the stains on it fabricated this morning as I brushed my teeth. I don’t know who or where I am, and I don’t know where I am going. But I do see stains, which means I see something. If I see something, maybe that means I know something too.
A spoon of delicious
mya bailey
Spring is Coming
Leo Espinoza
Spring is coming,
The snow is melting, The trees are blooming, The rain is pelting, Birds are chirping, Bees are buzzing, Kids are playing, Life is returning, The cold winter ends, The warm spring trends, Coats on sale, Shorts for sale, I scream for ice cream, Don’t watch a game, Play the game, The grass is green, Track, golf, girls’ soccer, Boys tennis, softball, baseball, Spring sports season, End of the cold season, Spring is coming, Time to enjoy the air. |
https://flipagram.com/f/14UaxLh0CQg
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Anime Milwaukee 2017
Corinne Kronschnabel
Thank you for bringing March!!
Maysa Saadeddin
Green! Green!
That's all you can see
However there is only one kind of green that stands for March
You’re the main symbol for March
You bring spring to light
As people adore you for what you bring
To spring
Give people hope for what summer will bring
As you sit below the rainbow of March
Everyone knows who you are
You’re famous for what you do
However you do come for a price
You seem to be worth it
You are a greedy type
But we see past it
Because when we come eye to eye
You bring a special treat
So for that we appreciate, every time you come in spring
We wish we could see you for more than a month
But for the time you stay, Thank you for bringing spring
❤Shamrock Shake ❤
That's all you can see
However there is only one kind of green that stands for March
You’re the main symbol for March
You bring spring to light
As people adore you for what you bring
To spring
Give people hope for what summer will bring
As you sit below the rainbow of March
Everyone knows who you are
You’re famous for what you do
However you do come for a price
You seem to be worth it
You are a greedy type
But we see past it
Because when we come eye to eye
You bring a special treat
So for that we appreciate, every time you come in spring
We wish we could see you for more than a month
But for the time you stay, Thank you for bringing spring
❤Shamrock Shake ❤