A Photograph of Teendom

by Chris

 

Summer nights at the Golden Twist, an ice cream and sandwich shop, will forever keep with me. The hum of the ice cream machines, the flashing blue and red of the open sign, the sizzles and pops of the deep fryer: all these things will come to form an album of distant and pleasant memories. Looking back, the customers served me more than I served them.

 

We live our lives retrospect, always dreaming of some earlier time when the world was new and hope was high. All of us have moments which seem to weather the passage of time itself; for me it will be the elderly customers, their faces aglow with the vivacity of a youth they once lived. I never once knew a customer personally, save those from school, yet I always found in those moments of interaction a fleeting unity between they and I. I felt as if I could see their album. Their eyes would shine as I presented them their chilli dog or banana split, and, for an instant, a genuine, human compassion would betray their otherwise feigned civility. In those moments the entirety of their earthly experiences would present themselves to me, and I could rifle through the sepia photos of one who had lived five my lifetimes. But it was fleeting; in the next instant the album would slam shut, and the present would shout, "More orders are waiting!"

Or perhaps it was Harry Wilder: septuagenarian, cancer survivor, father of two lawyers, and proud owner of the Golden Twist. Both he and his shop were known by name throughout the city. He had lived a long and colorful life, had befriended the mayor, had established himself as a respectable businessman, but every day he was at the Golden Twist working alongside everyone else. I remember Donna, the adult manager, talking of his battle with cancer and how he would drive several hours each day just to come to work. Why several hours? Because his chemotherapy treatments were in Indianapolis. No words suffice.

Above the bathroom threshold hangs a framed picture of a racecar; it is blue and gold and has the business's logo on it. That picture is older than I am. And yet it is but one of thousands which fill the pages of Harry's album. It shall fill my album also, as shall the countless summer nights I've spent at the Golden Twist. My teen years will be a series of juxtaposed pictures of banana splits, of youthful elderly customers, and of a flashing neon sign; so too shall they fill others' memories, for even today, on clammy summer nights, when the sky is clear and the air sweet, you can still hear the buzz and see the flash of the Golden Twist.

 

The future is so frightening, and our place in it so undefined:  that's why we look to the past, with its unchanging state. Looking into the eyes of Harry Wilder and all the elderly customers allowed me to feel my own humanity. Each time I did so, I felt the true vastness of time, sensed the true breadth of human continuity. In those transient moments, I thought, "Perhaps I can open the album of humanity itself and in quiet and reverent fashion, insert my own photo."

DIY Hairmasks & Beauty Tips

by Daisy

 

Now, I’m not a beauty expert. I’m probably nowhere near as experienced with makeup and hair care as 90% of the other girls in my school, or girls in general, but I’m starting to really get into all the little things like eyeliner and such. I’m also very devoted to growing out my hair too, so I thought maybe I could give a little bit of insight to my experiences and maybe give you a few tips that I’ve learned along the way.

When it comes to beauty, the number one thing that I have always been very anal about is my hair. If it doesn’t look a certain way or fall right or is too stringy or too flat or too big, I get really upset about it. My hair may not be as perfect, as long or as beautiful as other girls’, but I do try hard to make it look nice and healthy. I try not to put heat on it, but who am I kidding? Almost no one likes their natural hair; there are really few that do. So I cave and straighten it or curl it so it looks nice. Putting heat on your hair can really damage it though, so here are some tips that I can offer you and that I try to follow as well.

 

On the weekends (or weekdays), if I’m not going anywhere and am staying at home or inside all day, I don’t style it. It’s kind of like, who am I trying to impress? My family? They know me and don’t really care what I look like so I let it go natural. Also, if you can try and find ways to style your hair without using any heat or products, some simple suggestions are: putting your hair in a bun or ponytail, pulling it all to one side, braiding it, or even putting in curlers when you go to bed at night. The reason you want to stay away from heat is because it drys out your hair and causes split ends. You don’t want your hair to be a broken, brittled mess. Did you know that your split ends can split all the way to the roots? That’s crazy, so I highly recommend taking good care of your hair.

One of the things I like to do is put in DIY hair masks. I’m not gonna lie...it’s kinda gross because DIY hair masks are mainly made up of household items like food and powders and oils. I’m not a master at mixing and creating my hair masks, but it gets the job done when it comes to split ends. I usually use a spoonful or two of mayonnaise (yuck!) some olive oil, 2 eggs, and honey, with a dash of cinnamon. The cinnamon doesn’t really do anything for your hair but the mixture tends to smell really bad, so I put that in so I’m disgusted by the smell.

Go online and look up hair mask recipes that suit you and then apply it in the shower. You’re supposed to thoroughly apply it to your hair and leave it in for about 10-30

minutes. What I do is I’ll apply it and put a shower cap on and go watch an episode of American Dad on Netflix while I wait. Once time is up, go rinse out your mask and make sure that you get it all out - you don’t want any egg or mayo residue in it. Super gross. Finally, you shampoo and condition your hair as normal, and it should help with split ends. At least it did for me. I don’t want anyone to take my word for it, but this mask works for me, so it might for you.

I was never girly growing up. I was a really awkward tomboy. Recently, though, I’ve been trying to experiment more with this foreign concept. Makeup. *shudders* I seriously have no idea what I’m doing. Right now the best I can do is concealer, eyeliner sometimes, and mascara. To finish this article, a little tip that will probably help with ladies who make mistakes sometimes is that if you mess up, a little baby oil on a Q-tip does magic for makeup removal.

Justin Timberlake

by Daisy

 

I’m not going to lie...I am completely in love with Justin Timberlake! Everyone who even knows me a little bit is aware of this fact! I always joke about how we’re gonna get married and how much I love him, so that’s why this article is dedicated to my future hubby, Justin Timberlake...even though he’s already married, but there’s divorce for a reason! (I’m obviously kidding; I wish him and his wife many years of wedded bliss.)

For the same reason I love Spiderman, I love Justin Timberlake because he has been a part of my life ever since I was little, and when I say little I mean 9-10 years old. My first memory of JT was watching/listening to his music video, SexyBack. I loved everything about Timberlake, from his sweet, angelic voice to his boyish attitude and good looks. Which, by the way, his are so pleasing to the eyes. I love his face. Omg, he’s perfect. Sorry for the fangirling, but I am just head over heels for him!

JT’s music career started when he was about the same age I was when I first listened to him, at around 10 years old. He got his start with Disney on The All New Mickey Mouse Club with Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears. Eventually he went on to become a member of the boy band, ‘N Sync. Eventually he broke off from the band and became a pop idol.

Just recently he released his newest album, 20/20, which I strongly recommend to anyone willing to listen. I think it’s a well-crafted and unique album, although I must admit that each song seems to run on forever (they’re about 7 to 8 minutes long), containing long preludes and/or interludes. But other than that, his album is quite enjoyable, and I love listening and dancing stupidly in my room to it.

The Tragedy of the Twerk

by Chris

Before I start, I want to make a few things clear. One: I was never a fan of Miley Cyrus and never watched a single episode of Hannah Montana. Two: I actually abhor most rap music and the hip hop industry in general. Three: The proceeding words are utterly biased and were written without any consideration given to alternative viewpoints. Good, now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about Miley Cyrus!

No, no, not VMA Cyrus, not rapper Cyrus, let’s talk about “clean” Cyrus. Long before she was twerkin’ (Wow, autocorrect removed the “g;” I’m not even kidding) on middle-aged men and smoking marijuana on stage, Miley Cyrus was the idol of millions of prepubescent girls. She was clean, couth, compassionate, and just a bit country. And to top it all off, she was the star of her very own show on Disney. Now as I said before, I never watched Hannah Montana, but surely I can deduce a few things about it: the lead character was a blonde girl; the plot revolved around trivial conflicts; the settings were horrendously artificial; the saddest episodes involved one of the many static “friends” of the protagonist moving away. All of these things sound about right, but I forgot one thing: the star of the show (read: Miley Cyrus) had to embody her character constantly.

It wasn’t enough for Miley to play Hannah Montana; she had to become Hannah Montana. Prepubescent girls simply aren’t mature enough to distinguish between what’s real and what’s manufactured. Sure, they know that movies aren’t real, but they don’t understand that characters like Hannah Montana are played by real human beings like Miley Cyrus who often have completely different personalities. So while Miley Cyrus appeared clean, couth, compassionate, and country on TV, she was probably anything but in reality. She was simply marketed. Is it any wonder that the recurring idea of “We Can’t Stop” is “I can do what I want?” I can do what I want? Clearly this implies that at one point in time she couldn’t do what she wanted. Why? Because her success depended on conforming to the expectations of millions of naïve girls. What we’re seeing with Miley today is the reaction to years of restriction. She was never allowed to truly express herself; her world was artificial and superficial. Playing Hannah Montana meant being marketed as a product for Miley Cyrus, her individuality forsaken in the face of profit.

This is perhaps the greatest tragedy; Miley Cyrus was forced to conform to the expectations of little girls and their parents, to be a “role model.” Why can’t parents be role models to their own children? Why are they so reliant on the media to raise their children, to teach their children right from wrong? Could it be that life in a commercialized world of consumerism and materialism, which holds money above human life, inhibits the ability of parents to interact with their children and thus leaves said children at the mercy of an advertising apparatus so sophisticated and so pervasive that it indoctrinates the children into the world of consumerism and wage labor that originally robbed them of parental guidance? Then, continuing the tradition of indoctrination, the children grow up and chase false dreams in a fast-paced world, leaving their children before the onslaught of that very advertising and sensationalism, thus reducing human existence in America to nothing more than consumption.

Whoops, my Orwell is showing. But what’s curious is the public outcry against Miley Cyrus. Doesn’t she represent our modern age? She’s young, white, rich, sensational, bereft of morals, and ostentatiously (yet awkwardly) sexual. Any impartial observer would say she complements our society perfectly. Why, then, is she discussed in the most scathing, vehement terms our language can muster? I feel she is a scared little girl navigating the turbulent waters of adulthood. She’s searching for her true identity, and she is throwing off the shackles of that artificial world that once held her. She embodies the totality of the American spirit. And yet, America spits on her for daring to defy expectations, for divorcing herself from the Disney doll Hannah Montana. That’s the tragedy of it all: we are so wrapped in the tentacles of consumerism and sensationalism that we cannot see the glory in Miley Cyrus twerking.

Maximum Ride

by Daisy

Maximum Ride. No this isn’t a ride at an amusement park; this is a girl, Max, and she and her friends all have a gift - a very special gift. They have wings. And if you’re thinking chicken wings and barbeque sauce, then go get a snack and come back because you’re hungry, and that’s not what this article is about. They have wings coming out of their bodies. They can fly. Of course, this isn’t real. No one has wings, and if they did my mind would be blown. But this is a book series, eight books total by James Patterson, that follows the adventures and antics of Maximum Ride and her friends, Iggy, Fang, Nudge, Angel, and The Gasman (or Gazzy).

Their backstory is quite simple, really. They’re a group of minors, ranging from the ages of 6-14, that escaped from an institution called The School, with the help of scientist Jeb Batchelder, who experiments with genetic mutations. Once escaped, Jeb Batchelder takes them, The Flock, deep into the mountains, teaching them basic survival skills and how to defend themselves. Eventually Jeb disappears after two years, and The Flock are then on their own, thinking he’s dead, leading to where the first book of the series begins.

Personally I recommend the series to those who enjoy adventure, intricate twists and turns, and even a little bit of romance. I haven’t had much experience with said books, except for Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment a few years back, but I recall the novel being quite intricate and unique, and I would love to continue reading about The Flock’s adventures.

Famous Fashion

by Rose

What’s considered fashion differs from person to person. Fashion is a broad topic compared to the numerous styles that exist. It’s hard to label yourself as what you look like and how you dress; you might consider yourself a ‘hipster’ while everyone and their mother think you’re a ‘prep’, or you might consider your style unique while the next guy might say you look basic.

There are a great deal of styles: Goth, Hipster, Sporty, Preppy, Skater, Chic, Scene, Tomboy, Nerdy, Punk, Thug, Boho, Girly, and sometimes the groups run together or even have sub-groups within the style. The three styles I’m going to talk about are the ones I see most and can differentiate clearly, for there’s no mixing up Scene and Sporty.

Sporty: An athletic look is desired amongst the Sporty ones. The look can be categorized as sweatpants, basketball shorts, or T-shirts with a sport team logo. Sporty girls normally wear little to no makeup, and their hair is usually pulled back into a ponytail with maybe a headband. The boys wear tennis shoes or Nikes and sometimes muscle shirts.
The Sporty look is common in high school, obviously most frequently seen with the kids who play on sports teams. It’s not one of my favorite fashion styles, but it’s not one of my least favorites either; I admire those who take pride in staying in top physical condition.

Hipster: I’ve noticed that Hipsters have been getting quite a bit of attention lately, and it seems to be, ironically, the new ‘in’ thing, despite the whole point of being a hipster being to be as far away from mainstream society as possible. Hipsters are usually seen wearing beanies, skinny jeans, glasses, or T-shirts with bands on them that ‘you’ve probably never heard of.’

Hipsters are greatly common in teens and young adults. I used to really enjoy Hipster style, but over time I have grown away from it.

Scene: Scene and Emo get mixed up easily. Now, don’t make the mistake of telling one they’re the other. Scene is categorized as straight, layered hair (sometimes colored to an unnatural color) with black makeup around the eyes and dark clothes and skinny jeans tighter than my liking.

Fashion, like many things, is what you make it. It doesn’t matter what style you fall under. As long as you enjoy the way you look and are confident in what you wear, you’ll look good in anything.

Creatures of the Sun

by Chris

 "Concerning the generation of animals akin to them, as hornets and wasps, the facts in all cases are similar to a certain extent, but are devoid of the extraordinary features which characterize bees; this we should expect, for they have nothing divine about them as the bees have."

~ Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)
 

Nothing is so beautiful, so majestic as the relationship flowers and bees share. They have evolved together over millions of years, and every spring we see their courtship played out all over the world. We see the countless worker bees toiling in the sun, buzzing from flower to flower collecting nectar and depositing pollen. This dance had occurred for hundreds of millions of years, and today it is a vital part of our ecosystem. The flowers and the crops that are pollinated by bees produce food for our consumption; the bees return to their hives with the nectar to make honey and wax. All of this we take without gratitude. In ancient times, honey was considered sacred. It was said that honey was the nectar of the gods; the bees themselves were held in similar esteem. Today, however, there is no such reverence for bees, only fear.

But why do we fear honeybees? Sure, we humans have many, many irrational phobias, but why is it that we all seem to share a horror of the humble honey bee? Cartoons depict them as vicious swarms waiting to engulf innocent passersby. The buzzing of a bee evokes dread; the sight pandemonium. The reason for this fear, of course, is the sting of the bee. People seem to have this ridiculous notion that bees want to sting them. Our culture has conditioned us to believe that bees are hell-bent on causing us immense pain. This couldn’t bee further from the truth.

The vast majority of bee stings occur when they are forced to defend their hive, wherein their queen, their larvae, their home, and their honey lie. Furthermore, bees sting only once. Their stingers are barbed and get logged in whatever they sings, so when they try to fly away, the lower part of their abdomen is ripped off. The act of stinging must be inconceivably excruciating for a bee, but they must do it in order to defend their colony. Most of us would aggressively defend our home if our children, parents, and wealth lied inside. Is a gun not a stinger of greater destructiveness? But on a much deeper level, bees are justified in stinging any human they want, considering what we’ve done to them. What, exactly, have we done to them?

The answer to that question is actually quite simple: we’ve reduced them to machines. The demand for produce and crops has necessitated new methods of pollination. Sure, allowing bees to freely pollinate crops may have worked long ago, but in this modern era, when orchards span hundreds of thousands of acres, when hundreds of millions of people depend upon fresh produce, and when the growing season has not grown with demand, the natural way is no longer viable. Yet, because no one wants to or is able to physically pollinate billions of plants, bees must still be used. So we cram them into wooden crates and ship them around the world to pollinate massive orchards. And while they are being transported in boxes, we feed them a watery solution of high-fructose corn syrup. How could high-fructose corn syrup possibly compare to honey, the nectar of the gods? It can’t. All this, however, cannot compare to the worst of it.

No bee colony can exist without a queen. The ritualistic mating between a queen bee and her male suitors that results in baby queen bees seldom occurs. Yet we need many colonies of bees to pollinate our crops; therefore, we need many queen bees. The solution to this problem? Artificial insemination. Indeed, as crazy as it sounds, we sedate queen bees and fill them will sperm from the strongest male bees we find. Besides being an absolute disgrace to the queen bee, this process hurts all bees: because only a few males are used, the genetic diversity of the queen’s offspring is greatly reduced. This results in a colony more susceptible to disease and pathogens. Moreover, the resulting queen bees are weaker than their natural counterparts.

Then there are the fungicides and systemic pesticides. We, being the industrious race that we are, use fungicides in an attempt to protect our crops from fungi. Systemic pesticides? Think inserting pesticides directly into the DNA of a plant. Now, any logical person would agree that this could have adverse health effects on humans. For bees it has proven absolutely devastating. It affects their nervous system; they become disoriented and unable to function. Entire colonies of bees have simply vanished. And we’re not talking about a few disparate hives here; we’re talking about half of all commercial beehives in the United States: billions of bees. We even have a term for this phenomenon: Colony Collapse Disorder.

Our actions have caused Colony Collapse Disorder. We have treated the worker bee as a drone, fed them artificial sugar solutions, violated their queens, and exposed them to the worst toxins we have. And still, they only sting us when they feel threatened. So ask yourself, who is the true menace? Anyone who enjoys fruits, flowers, or nuts are profiting from the pain of bees. We shouldn’t fear honeybees: we should be grateful to them for everything they do for this planet, for us. Instead of swatting them with rolled-up newspapers and destroying their hives, we should be doing everything possible to help honeybees; for the simple fact of the matter is, honeybees are dying. They are dying, and we are killing them.

Contained within the the nectar of every flower is the energy of the sun. Bees have been granted access to this precious substance, and they carry it with them to the darkness of their hive. Yet there is no darkness there: the nectar itself is the light of the sun captured in material form. Honey is but a purified form the nectar, a purified form of light guiding the order of the hive, making each bee a creature of the sun. Perhaps Aristotle was on to something when he proclaimed the divinity of bees, a divinity we have perverted with our strange apparatuses and toxic chemicals. So let us end with another quote by Aristotle, something to alter our opinion of bees, something to put things in perspective:

''Honey falls from the air, principally about the rising of the stars, and when a rainbow rests upon the earth.''

It's Kind of a Funny Story

by Sarah

 

Craig Gilner, the main character and narrator of the book It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, is a teenager living in New York City who has the obsessive desire to learn and get accepted into a school for young brainiacs. He studies for hours at a time, using anything he can to help him get accepted. Two of his friends, Nia (the girl he fancies) and Aaron (longtime friend and Nia’s boyfriend), also end up attending this school, yet they hardly put in any effort, unlike Craig, who spent a majority of his time in his room, slaving over his textbooks.

 

 

Upon starting the school year, he finds that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to do as well as he did before. His 93 average just isn’t cutting it for him anymore. He becomes depressed- more so than he was in the past. He also has a problem with keeping his food down; he hears voices that sound like military soldiers in his head, asking if he can do it, can he keep it down this time, or will he throw it all up again? More often than not, he loses the battle and spills his meal into the porcelain throne. Think odd habits or problems couldn’t go any further than this? Wrong. He also finds great relief from stress and life by...peeing. To each his own, yet it’s difficult to imagine this working on depression relief. His reasoning is that it’s simple, and he likes simple.

 

He sees a therapist (Dr. Minerva), who talks to him about his fears and feelings. Craig feels that if he can’t get a 98.6 average (which is also the normal body temperature) he won’t get into a good college, which would mean that he couldn’t get a good job, which will lead to not living a good lifestyle, and will finally end with becoming homeless. He has things he calls “anchors” and “tentacles.” His anchors are things that make him feel better, like biking, while his tentacles are “evil tasks that invade his life,” such as school. What he calls “The shift” is the change in his life that he’s been waiting for. The shift has yet to happen, so his depression doesn’t seem to be any better.

 

One night is particularly bad for Craig, and he contemplates suicide. Part of him is thinking about biking out to a bridge and then jumping off. It’d all be done with. The other, more logical part, of him finds a number for a suicide hotline and takes the advice of the lady on the other line. He then checks himself into the hospital within walking distance of where he lives. (This isn’t a spoiler, really. It’s toward the beginning and in Craig’s POV; therefore, it’s almost guaranteed that he won’t die this quickly into the story.) The nurses and doctors talk to him about what brought him there, and eventually, his Mom came in to see him as well. Craig agrees to be admitted to the mental hospital, thinking he’ll be there for a short time- short enough that he won’t miss any school. Not the case.

 

He finds that he’s now amongst some disturbed, yet quite interesting, people. There’s the transexual sex addict that tries to make a move on Craig, the Egyptian man who won’t leave his room, the girl who cut her face with scissors, & many other people that Craig more than likely wouldn’t have experienced their company otherwise. His life takes a new turn while admitted here, one that could be for the better or worse.

 

It’s Kind of a Funny Story is truly a funny story. While it does talk about serious topics like depression, self harming, suicide, and other mental illnesses, it does it in a way that doesn’t take your emotions down a black hole. You may find yourself laughing during parts of the book where they’re talking about such things that normally wouldn’t be quite as amusing. Craig’s dry humor and outlook on life makes it such an interesting, yet conflicting, read. You want to be sad for the characters (they’re in a mental hospital), but at the same time, you want to sit across the table from them, laughing and playing cards.

 

The author, Ned Vizzini, spent a short time in a mental hospital in 2004 for depression. He said this book took some inspiration from this experience in his life. The book has since received great reviews and a good following since it was published on April 1, 2006. Four years later, a movie based off the story was released. The movie starred Keir Gilchrist as Craig, Emma Roberts as Noelle (she comes along further in the story...scissor girl), and Zach Galifianakis as Bobby, just to name a few names.

 

On a personal scale, I would recommend this read to anyone with intelligence, empathy, and a nice sense of humor. However, make sure you have enough time to read large chunks at a time, due to its being fairly lengthy, yet incredibly interesting, to read. Your mind will more than likely want to absorb it all at once. Wouldn’t that be a funny story?

This Is Country Music

by Jessica

A few years ago, I don’t think I even realized country music existed. At least, I didn’t know anything beyond old, twangy, super backwoods country music existed. But then I discovered a genre of music called “new country,” which is basically general country with a bit of flair added to it. By that I mean, there can be less steel guitars and banjos and more electric guitars and bass. Country’s got a bit of spunk to it now, a little pop here, a little rock there. But when it all comes down to it, everything comes full circle to classic, full-blown, good hearted country music.

To sort of draw a dichotomy here between old and new country, I’ll tell you some names of singers from both categories. Old country deals with folks like George Strait, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and Johnny Cash. On the other hand, some popular new country artists include such names as Rascal Flatts, Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan, and Blake Shelton. The two genres may sound different to your ears, but something they’ve both got in common is their ability to tell a story, and that’s what I love most about any country music.

When you listen to country music, the songs tell the tale of someone’s life, a hardship someone’s been through, or how one particular event of his or her life happened. In new country, what I usually listen to, a few songs that do this include: “We Danced” by Brad Paisley, “Two Black Cadillacs” by Carrie Underwood, “People Are Crazy” by Billy Currington, and “A Woman Like You” by Lee Brice. Of course there are others, but these are just some that really get their point across, and by the end of the song, you feel like you’ve read a really good book or watch a great movie and gotten a peek into this person’s life, whether they really exist or not.

Some artists tell their own stories through songs, like Miranda Lambert’s “House That Built Me,” which is about Miranda returning to her childhood home, where someone new now lives. She takes a stroll through the house that “built” her as a person, and she sees her old bedroom where she did her homework and learned to play guitar. She then sings of how she grew up there and that she won’t take anything except for a memory, as long as she can see the house one last time. Similar songs like these connect you with the artist and make the songs more meaningful. Lambert won CMA Song of the Year in 2012 for co-writing another song, “Over You,” with her husband and fellow country star, Blake Shelton, about the death of Shelton’s own brother, Richie. You’ve instantly formed a bond with both the artist and the song, and I think that’s fascinating and inspiring.

Artists have to get their inspiration from somewhere too! A lot of times, newer artist like to imitate older artists with whom they grew up and even mention them in their own songs. For example, Jason Aldean references Joe Diffie in his catchy tune, “1994,” Taylor Swift titles the first song on her very first CD “Tim McGraw,” and Kenny Chesney sings, “We had a dog named Bocephus living in the front yard,” in his song, “Keg in the Closet” (Bocephus is a nickname for Hank Williams, Jr.).

To add to this, certain songs might be inspired by other singers as well. Keith Urban even admits that his latest single, “A Little Bit of Everything,” was inspired by Madonna! One of her songs from 2001 called “Don’t Tell Me” has a little taste of country in it, with a good acoustic guitar part Urban liked, so he weaved a bit of that into his new hit! I guess it is true that what goes around, comes around!

But when it all comes down to it, who inspires who and how a song was formed isn’t what makes country music my favorite genre; honestly it’s what good people they truly are. No, country musicians aren’t excluded from lawsuits and jail time, but there seems to be less of those instances because these guys (and girls) have such great morals that they exhibit in their actions, as well as in their music. I thoroughly enjoy that the ladies can be classy at here and sassy there and that the guys can be timeless but also have a good time.

I had the opportunity to meet Hunter Hayes in 2012, and he was one of the most genuinely nice people I have ever met. He was kind to the audience, made us laugh between songs, and when I got to meet him, he gave me a hug and talked to me and seemed in no hurry to get out of there. His fans and music are the most important things to him, not the money he makes from them, and I think that’s a lovely theme throughout country music artists. Like Brad Paisley sings, “Just like a road that takes you home, yeah this is right where you belong...this is country music.”

The Mass Effect Trilogy

by Chris

 

 

Set almost two centuries in the future, Mass Effect is an epic saga played out on a galactic scale. In this fictional universe, humanity stumbles upon an ancient alien technology on Mars which allows them to travel across the universe in mere moments. Referred to as mass relays, this technology will introduce mankind to a vast and highly sophisticated alien community encompassing dozens of species across hundreds of planets.The hub of interaction between species is a massive deep space station called The Citadel, where the three dominant species - the Turians, Asari, and Salarian - sit on a council that dictates interplanetary affairs. (See below)



So where, exactly, does the player factor into all of this? Well basically, you’re humanity’s best hope. You play as Commander Shepard (comes as a female, too!), and you’ve just been become a Spectre, aka a super awesome space cop that answers only to the Citadel Council. Humans are the newest species on the Citadel, and as such, they’re basically disregarded by every other species. You’ll change that. Throughout your adventures, you’ll explore vast regions of the galaxy; experience dozens of alien cultures; and forge many, many personal connections that transcend special boundaries. Yet the first time you walk around the Citadel (pictured from the inside and outside above, inside view also includes the members of the Citadel Council) you’ll be sure to hear xenophobic slurs from various aliens as they drink at bars, party in clubs, or lie drunk in alleys. Now’s a good time to mention the M+ rating of all three games in the series! Mass Effect is no Star Wars; in between zipping from planet to planet in your spaceship and annihilating enemies with assault rifles and biotic attacks (innate superhuman abilities), you’ll resolve domestic disputes, get in fist fights, and walk into insane alien strip clubs. 

Wait, wait, wait, did he just say spaceship? Yes, actually I did. As a spectre, you get reign over your very own ship: the SSV Normandy, a seek vessel with hyper-advanced stealth technologies that allow you to land on hostile planets without being detected. You’ll need it, as your first task as Spectre is to catch a murderous Spectre named Saren.

 

Why, exactly, would someone so honorable and trustworthy as to be given Spectre status go rogue and massacre an entire colony of humans? Well, the answer to that question is loaded with spoils. The answer to that question involves trillions of years of galactic history. The answer to that question lies at the very heart of Mass Effect. You’ll simply have to play the games to find out. However, what I will say is this: you’re gonna need a lot more than guns and biotic abilities:

Music Series Part 1

by Kaylee

Call me Kaylee of the Tunemill because I could write about music for ten years and never get bored. Of course, while the subject never bores me, I do tire of that too conventional angle of “Here’s a band you’ve probably already heard of, let me tell you how great they are, go look at their songs, have a nice day.” And so, I am thinking of new ways to present my favorite topic because music is always changing, constantly moving and flowing. New artists appear, and groups put out new albums; every day there’s something bright and shiny and fresh for us to observe, so we should look at in as many ways as possible to appreciate the absolute majesty that is music and the people who create it. And while I could write about music for ten years, I know no one wants to read the same thing (with a few words swapped here and there) and that is why I have decided to tell a different story, or really, several stories.

Too often the human aspect of music is forgotten. We lose the emotion that is really put into music when it’s written and performed by the people who feel so strongly about something that they put their time into recording and gifting it to the public. Sometimes I forget these people, but concerts keep me humble and put me in my place. Before I go into a rant, let me say that live music is the reason I live. And while I always enjoy riding around in a car with the windows down and an overplayed pop tune blaring on the radio, there’s magic in seeing someone play music right in front of you that I cannot put into words.

I’ve been in huge crowds, shoving my way forward to get a better look at inexplicably arrogant and famous musicians that Twitter rumors cling to like lint on black jeans, and I’ve been in tiny underground restaurants under dim lights standing next to a man with an acoustic guitar who sings from the heart and who I don’t know by anything other than his first name. The feeling in both situations is potent, and it reminds us that music doesn’t just come out of the blue on any random day; it’s enough to remind us of the hands behind the instruments and the lips behind the vocals.

Take into thought the artist/bands you listen to. Sure, some will display their entire lives to the media in a way that simply cannot be ignored by the press and anyone who owns a TV (nudge, nudge, Taylor Swift dating a new man every two months or the recent whirlwind of the twerking terror that is Miley Cyrus), but maybe there are others, and you’re thinking, “Wow, what do they even look like? How old is (insert name here)?” or maybe you’re just like, “Who even plays guitar for (insert band here)?”.

Now, it’s not necessary to know every detail about every band you’ve ever heard, but sometimes the stories of the musicians can change the way you hear their songs. Maybe that ballad sounded particularly honest because his wife died in a car crash days before he wrote it. Maybe Johnny Cash’s cover of “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails sounded not at all like a cover because he had felt that kind of pain before. (True story. If you haven’t seen Walk the Line, stop reading and watch it now.) I know people see songwriters and anyone the media loves as some sort of romanticized, angel-like creature who as far as you know resides on Mount Olympus, but really, who drew the line between “us” and “them” and who’s to say there should be a line at all? Let’s love our musicians as we love our neighbors; besides, they’re probably more present in your home, heart, and mind than old Mrs. Johnson down the street anyways.

Now that I’ve spoken my piece on that, I’d like to tell you a little about a certain man I respect and admire, who also just happens to be a songwriter, in what will be the first of a new “thing” here on Trendmill, this self-proclaimed article-series.

Upcoming Movies

by Kaylee

I was never really a movie person. I didn’t like sitting around and paying too much money to spend two hours of my life watching a movie I would ultimately be disappointed in, but then the most wonderful creation that is Netflix occurred, and suddenly, I found myself spending hours in front of the TV. I prefer funny or dramatic Indie films to romantic comedies and horror movies to anything with robots in it, but I am excited to tell you a bit about a few movies I’m looking forward to (or not looking forward) to seeing.

As customary to the Halloween season, there will be a “new” drama/horror movie, the third remake of the 1976 movie, Carrie. The original movie was based on a book by Stephen King about high school pariah Carrie White, a strange girl sheltered by her slightly insane and highly religious mother and harassed by her peers. One night she discovers that she has telekinetic abilities, and they get put to use after a prom prank goes terribly right and then so wrong.

The original has grown to be a cult movie classic and featured actress Sissy Spacek as Carrie. I loved her in this role. She was weird and pretty but still strange looking enough for it to be believable that she was picked on and bullied. She played the crazy-confused “Am I on my period or am I dying?” role very well.

The movie was remade in 2002 as a TV movie that I felt did the original and the story no justice at all, so I was happy when I found out they were making another version. And oh my goodness, Ansel Elgort is going to play the main lead (for anyone interested in the Fault in Our Stars, he’s set to act as Augustus in the movie, and this is his right of passage). Julianne Moore will play Margaret White, Carrie’s mother who seems to have fallen off her rocker long before the movie begins (I mean, she locks her daughter in a closet, come on). Julianne Moore scares me in the first place, so I feel like she’ll fit the role well.

My only issue with this whole deal, even if it’s a small issue, is the lovely Chloe Grace Moretz. She is beautiful; what high school boy in his right mind would ever bully someone as pretty as her? Seriously, does no one else see the issue here? Nevertheless, her
performance is believable, and I think she’ll do great. I’m excited to see this movie; it releases on October 18th, right on time for Halloween.

As for movies I am already disappointed in before I have even seen them, this week’s award goes to Runner Runner, featuring Justin Timberlake and Ben Affleck. The movie is about college student Richie Furst (Timberlake), who discovers the system behind an online poker game. However, Richie soon “goes bust,” loses everything, and meets the man behind the game, Ivan Block (Affleck). They get involved with one another, and their business soon turns corrupt, and it goes from there. 

Okay, I love Justin TImberlake and all, but I have seen him act, and I do not approve. The whole concept of the movie seemed awesome, and when I saw the trailer I automatically shouted, “OH MY GOD, WE HAVE TO GO SEE THAT,” but after looking at the reviews it has received (it got a 5.4/10 on IMDB and a 32/100 on Metascore), my enthusiasm dwindled, and now I’m not even sure I want to waste my time. It released on October 4th, and I’m not sad to say I will not be in that crowd when the credits roll.

 

Percy Jackson

by Jessica

In 2005, the first Percy Jackson book, The Lightning Thief, written by Rick Riordan, was published.  Four books followed in the series:  The Sea of Monsters (2006), The Titan's Curse (2007), The Battle of the Labyrinth (2008), and The Last Olympian (2009).  Begun as a bedtime story for his son, Riordan's story of Percy Jackson, a seemingly normal twelve-year-old boy who discovers that he is a demigod (a half god), son of a god of Olympus, has exploded into a worldwide phenomenon.

The first two books in the series were New York Times bestselling books, and these two titles (The Lightning Thief and The Sea of Monsters) are the ones most people are aware of.  Everyone knows these books because they have both been made into movies for the silver screen.  Percy Jackson & the Olympians:  The Lightning Thief was released in 2010 and follows Percy and his friends (a satyr and a daughter of Athena) around the United States on the search for the all-powerful bolt of Zeus and the Lightning Thief himself.

 

What has occurred most recently is the release of the highly anticipated second movie, Percy Jackson:  Sea of Monsters.  The movie opened in theaters on August 7, 2013.  In this film, Percy now lives at Camp Half-Blood.  He's training to be the best demigod he can be, but his schooling is interrupted when the safety barrier to the camp is disturbed.  An invisible protective wall surrounds the camp and keeps out any intruders who are not demigods.  It formed seven years prior with the death of a student, Thalia, who, when she got killed by an evil intruder, grew into a tree from which this barrier extends.

Fast-forward to the present, and during Percy's lunch with his newly recognized family member, a giant mechanical bull charges the camp, breaking the protective wall down for good.  Many students attempt to defeat the bull, but at last, it is Percy who saves the day and finds the bull's weakness.  To restore Thalia's tree, Percy and his friends set out on a quest to find the Golden Fleece, which they can use to heal her and fix the barrier.

 

I won't give away any more of the plot, but I can tell you that I was thoroughly entertained.  The first film is easily one of my favorite movies of all time, so my expectations were quite high when I walked into the theater.  It was funny, exciting, and interesting the whole way through.  I personally prefer the first one over this, but that might just be because it's the original, and I've seen it more often.  I still, however, very much loved Sea of Monsters, and if you're a fan of Percy Jackson or mythology, you're guaranteed to enjoy it as well!

Senioritis

by Chris

Here I sit in 6th period European History on a faceless Wednesday. On the walls hang pictures of old things: Saint Peter’s Basilica, Michelangelo's David, Henry VIII. From above, columns of fluorescents rain cold light upon the class. Upon my desk is a worksheet and a mechanical pencil, same as yesterday. Outside, a late summer afternoon beckons me. It’s just beyond the double-paned windows, just two hours away. Around me students work feverishly to complete the day’s assignment on 16th century religious wars in France. Our disinterested teacher is at his desk, his gaze locked on his computer monitor. The only other sound is the scratching of pencils against paper, as is expected in a sophomore class. But I am senior, I am a senior, and I just felt the pangs of senioritis.

Years ago I, too, sat sophomorically working and studying. I breathed the rarified air of academia and pursued that most coveted of titles: highest grade in the class period. Back then, 99 percents were “okay;” the SAT was a dragon to be slain; academic rivals ( aka friends) were knights from a hostile kingdom just beyond the pastures. Back then, I’d be working just as feverishly to complete the work laid before me as these sophomores currently do. That was then.

Now, I find there is but little depth to the proceedings which surround me. I sense in these sophomores an oblivion, a perfect ignorance to the brevity of their high school experience. They busy themselves with empty work, but how can I answer questions about the Huguenots or Henry of Navarre when I feel my youth speeding toward its conclusion? One minute it seems you’re confronted with a mountain of worksheets and textbooks, the next a mountain of college applications and college brochures. And the time between? It was filled with Friday night football games, Algebra II quizzes, student council meetings, volunteering, partying, laughing, lying. Living. I have lived those years, and here on this faceless Wednesday, I just realized it.

It’s ironic that we should find our maturity in the presence of the immature. I have. Perhaps it is the last vestiges of youth still imbued within their countenances that I perceive: whatever it is, it fills me with a small quantity of sadness, for I feel in their presence the consequences of my own transformation. I am far more pensive, far more poised than I ever was while I danced in academia. I am also far more extroverted and compassionate. I have learned things not found between the covers of a textbook. I have learned the lessons of three years. This is what it means to be a senior.

The second hand is just beginning its final revolution. I sit here in this class of old things staring apathetically at a blank worksheet. It’s the same worksheet that has confronted me for three years. It’s a worksheet I refuse to invest myself in, a worksheet to be completed just to be completed. Beyond the confines of this dry world lies something warm and vibrant, something inviting. I want to escape into that world. I want to leave behind this asphyxiating school and venture into the vast and fascinating realm outside. These are the symptoms of true senioritis.

David Levithan

by Sarah

David Levithan is a successful author of young adult novels and one adult novel, as well as a publisher of others’ work through Scholastic. At 41 years of age, he has released a total of 18 books, including both solo books and books he’s written with others. His characters differ in many ways, from a character named A who wakes up in a different body every day (and has since birth) to quarterback/drag queen Infinite Darlene, all the way to Will Grayson, a boy who, by chance, meets someone with the same name as him, and nothing is ever the same again.

He mainly writes about teens that have dealt with all sorts of things, whether that is depression, sexuality, making mistakes, or just life in general. He gives them such depth and development that it’s as if they’re sitting across from you, sipping tea, telling you their story and either laughing or crying, depending on how their story went. While I haven’t had the pleasure of having read all of his books quite yet (planning on doing so soon), I’ve yet to have the problem of his writing keeping my interest. If anything, I had the problem of finding time to read, due to wanting to finish it all in one sitting.

Levithan has had the honor of working on books with other talented authors, such as John Green in Will Grayson, Will Grayson; Rachel Cohn in Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Naomi & Ely’s No Kiss List, and Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares; and Andrea Cremer in Invisibility. Each of these books alters points of view among the characters, depending on whose turn it is to write.

He, refreshingly, doesn’t seem to be overtaken by fame, either. He tells yalsa.ala.org about his accomplishments, saying, “It was really thrilling to have my first book published. But, truth be told, the first time one of my stories was accepted to the high school literary magazine was pretty thrilling, too. All variations of the same theme. But honestly? It’s all those moments with my friends. Dancing in parks or goofing around at a multiplex or crowding into someone’s house for a deadline meeting for the newspaper – those fuel my writing more than anything academic.”

David Levithan is just one of those authors that has become blessed with the gift of writing beautifully or humorously and can do both all within the same book without confusing or troubling the reader. I suggest that you explore the words that have come from him as soon as you can; you won’t regret it.

Nimbus

by Rose

Nimbus is a steampunk novel by Austin King and B.J. Keeton. It’s set in a post-apocalyptic world where the characters live in skyports, and the ground below is covered in a poisonous fog. Clean, fresh water is scarce, and the only way to obtain it is to sail the skies in steamships and process clouds for their water.

Living on a steamship, the Gangly Dirigible, young ‘Hoser’ Jude works for both money and the scarce clean water to send to his family living in Burrow 12. One afternoon, his ship docks at an abandoned lighthouse, and a team (including Jude) is sent inside to investigate. As they unlock a forbidden door, Jude finds himself to be possessed by one of the most evil creatures known to humans, but he’s not the only one.

A crippled young man, Demetrius Rucca, who also plays a role in this story, has lived a privileged life due to his father's power. He grows resentful for his lack of legs and wants to be captain of an airship. His father, overprotective of his weakened son, keeps tabs and discourages his child from fulfilling his dreams. But that won’t stop Demetrius. Demetrius is determined to get an airship, one way or another.

This book was amazing; it’s not like your typical science-fiction novel. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. You won’t be able to put it down. Immediately you grow attached to Jude and Demetrius and fall in love with the entire story. Nimbus is a favorite of mine. Even if you don’t know what steampunk is, you’ll enjoy the adventure and suspense that accompanies this novel.

Blondfire, Local Natives, and Sóley

by Chris

Blondfire

Awww, don’t those two look cute together? Actually they don’t; they’re brother and sister. They also happen to be the principal artists of Blondfire, an indie pop band from Los Angeles. Erica and Bruce Driscoll’s first endeavour was Astaire, which toured locally and recorded in their parents' basements. (Stay in school, kids.) The group released the Extended Play Don’t Whisper Lies, which contained the hit single “L-L-Love.”

However, a legal situation forced the duo to change their name. Blondfire was born. Under this new name, the group released one album in 2008, My Someday, but their singles and extended plays, the aforementioned Don’t Whisper Lies and Pretty Young Thing, were by far greater successes. My favorites include “Walking with Giants,” “Waves,” and their newest single, “Where The Kids Are,” released late in 2011.

The vocals of Erica are lovely, but the melodies make Blondfire what it is. It’s upbeat and carefree but with passionate undertones, the kind of sound you’d hear only on Alt Nation. Helping to create such a unique sound is a backup group of musicians directed by Bruce. Together, Erica, Bruce, and their backups have achieved recognition, and they are indeed “walking with the giants.”

Local Natives

Local Natives (originally Cavil at Rest) is a indie pop band based in Los Angeles started by UCLA graduates Kelcey Ayer, Ryan Hahn, and Taylor Rice in Orange County. Bassist Andy Hamm and drummer Matt Frazier joined in 2008 to complete the group. The group released its debut album, Gorilla Manor, in 2009, embarked on a European tour in 2011, and parted ways with Andy Hamm in the same year. Nik Ewing joined the group in 2012. In 2013, the group released its second album, Hummingbird, which is noted for its divergence from the subject matter of their first album. 

I stumbled upon Local Natives quite unexpectedly while randomly clicking on thumbnails in YouTube Narnia. (YouTube Narnia is where good music lives, by the way.) What I noticed, and perhaps what you’ll notice, is the versatility of this band: “Heavy Feet” is well, heavy; “World News” is upbeat; “You and I” is almost mournful; “Breakers” is simply powerful. However, though the atmosphere of each song differs, extraordinary drumming is a common thread uniting them all.

Fans of Vampire Weekend, Arcade Fire, and Fleet Foxes will probably find aural bliss in the choruses and melodies of Local Natives. Actually, anyone who enjoys indie rock should listen to Local Natives. I did, and here I am writing about it!

Sóley

Sóley is actually a member of the Icelandic indie-folk band Seabear, which contains six other members. The band has been active since the beginning of the century and has released three albums. However, the truly extraordinary talent of Sóley Stefánsdóttir revealed itself in her debut independent album We Sink, released in 2010, after she’d toured the world with Seabear.

Sóley’s music is euphorically melancholic. There’s no other way to describe it. She combines her impressive pianist abilities, her extensive knowledge of composition, and her beautiful voice to create music that should be used as a soundtrack to dreams. Indeed, all of her songs take on an otherworldly atmosphere, transporting the listener to some far off land rife with both macabre adventures and heavenly landscapes. The light, delicate melodies contrast with dark lyrics in a seamless way solemn achieved.

Like all good independent music, the songs of Sóley can be found running around in YouTube Narnia. “Smashed Birds,” “Pretty Face,” and “Dance” are among my favorite songs. Each is like listening to someone else’s dream. Hopefully Iceland will produce more artists like Sóley.

Les Misérables

by Daisy

It’s movie night. You want to watch something with romance and music, but your partner or company is more interested in something with adventure, action, and excitement. Well, look no further because Les Misérables has it all! Warning! There will be some spoilers if you continue to read this article!

The protagonist is Jean Valjean, a former convict who broke parole who has made a new name for himself as the mayor of the town, Digne. He’s known for his kindhearted ways, and the first thing you see him do as mayor is save a man from being crushed under a fallen cart. Then one night he agrees to take care of prostitute/former worker of his from the factory he owns - Fantine's child. Suddenly Inspector Javert comes to Valjean, who is under the alias as the mayor, saying they caught the convict Valjean. Being a man of integrity, Valjean couldn't let an innocent man become a slave to the law and goes to court to clear his name.

Now, Valjean has to go on the run so he can protect and raise Fantine’s child. Will Inspector Javert find him? The rest is up to you! I personally found this movie to be well put together and beautiful. I strongly recommend you go see it!

The Conjuring

by Sarah

Released on July 19th of this year, the movie The Conjuring is a movie supposedly based on true events. The movie follows Ed and Lorraine Warren, well known and experienced demonologists. In real life, they have been said to have taken on over 10,000 cases and founded the New England Society for Psychic Research in 1952. One of these cases even includes the real life Annabelle doll, who you meet at the beginning of the movie.

While not as creepy and grim-looking in reality, there was indeed a case involving Annabelle and her owners: nurses Donna and Angie. Donna received the doll from her mother, after she bought it secondhand. Seemingly a normal doll at first (they had no reason to believe otherwise), Annabelle was just sitting around the house. However, after a while, Annabelle seemed to move. Nothing big, just slightly different positions at times. That could be explained, though, they thought. Maybe the doll was just bumped into. Things happen. But when the doll would end up in a completely different room, and notes on parchment paper were found (no one in their apartment had that kind of paper) that said things like ‘Help me,’ they brought in a medium who said the spirit of a young girl had possessed the doll because she wanted to be with the nurses. Naïve as they were, they accepted it.

Things began to go downhill. Their friend, Lou, was at the apartment once, and when he and Donna were talking, they heard movement in the bedroom. Curious, Lou went to investigate. Everything was in place, except for Annabelle. She was out of place, and when Lou turned around, he felt someone watching him. Then he had scratches on his chest that burned and said that he was sure Annabelle did it. Frightened, they called Ed and Lorraine, hoping to put this nightmare to an end.

They explained to the nurses that it wasn’t the spirit of the little girl possessing the doll; there was demonic activity. They said that the doll wasn’t possessed; the demon was manipulating the doll to make it appear like that. The demon was said to be trying to target Donna’s soul. An exorcism was performed, and the doll was removed, now property of the Warrens. The doll is said to still be locked up in a case, not to be removed.

Fast-forward a bit into the movie, and you see the Perron family moving into their new colonial home in the country. They wanted a fresh start, a new beginning. Their dog, Sadie, refuses to go inside the house, instead staying outside and whining. Some people believe that animals are more sensitive to things such as upcoming storms, spirits, or inhuman things. The Perrons dismissed it though. Maybe they should've listened because not much later, strange things start occurring. Becoming increasingly frightened, the mother, Carolyn, attends a lecture that is being given by the Warrens, seeking them out after and convincing them to come back and investigate.

This movie includes several sequences that could be jumpy to most people. The music and special effects were quality, keeping your attention on the movie instead of the lust-filled couple two rows in front of you, three seats to the left. There’s not much gore (this isn’t the SAW series) and didn’t earn it’s ‘R’ rating for highly graphic adult scenes; it doesn’t have those at all. It was simply said to be too scary for some people, so it was selective about its viewers.

While I never find movies actually scary (yet horror is my favorite genre), it was such a nice change of pace to watch a horror film with an actual plot and in-depth characters. I found it so interesting from the opening credits and Annabelle all the way to the ending, that I’m not about to spoil.