Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past decade, it is next to impossible to not know who the Kardashians are. Whether you can tell them apart from a single butt selfie or you still struggle to put each “K” name with its contoured, surgically modified face, there’s no doubt you’ve heard the name uttered at least a few dozen times a day in a Snapchat story, on Instagram, or by a housewife flipping through gossip magazines in the checkout line at a grocery store. America seems to be mesmerized by this “famous for nothing” family, but what is it that makes them so enticing and more than just a wealthy group of people strung together by the same genes (or at least we hope so in Khloé’s case)? Continue reading “Kapitalism: A Žižekian Analysis of the Kardashians by Anna Walters”
The Sleeping Dreams:
- My dream started by an outdoor pool, where the sun was shining and reflecting off the water. A dead woman lay on the concrete next to the pool, and my dream Grandmother (neither of my real Grandmothers made an appearance) sent me on a quest to protect a box (Pandora connection?). The quest brought me to a huge cave battle against flying monkey demons, which could be my subconscious telling me that I’ve seen both The Wizard of Oz and the Hobbit movies too many times.
- The recurring one that I had when I was five about being lost on a cliff with my cousin, Brittany. When we found a house and knocked on the door, a witch made Brittany and I eat dirt. The dirt made all of our teeth fell out. It was scary enough that I had the dream three times. A manifestation of my mind trying to make sense of irrational fear and anxiety (which is the common interpretation for any dream about losing teeth).
- All the dreams that I had where I was about to be murdered. The interesting thing here—there was always some sort of supernatural twist to the plotline. Sometimes the dreams start out centered somewhere in the vicinity of reality, but they always manage to veer off course into some sort of supernatural/horror adaptation. This could be attributed to my love for all things fantasy and an overactive imagination, which hasn’t been stifled by my attempts at adulthood.
“I’m a believer in things symbolic,” he said. “Spending eternity next to Marilyn is too sweet to pass up.”
Many admirers of the late celebrity gathered
to pay respect to a sexual icon, a man
of such prestige and prowess to shame
A few flecks of white blemish the pure
blue sky, but there is no threat of
rain – he would not want any of the funeral guests
to weep for him, and so the sky complies.
Today, Hefner merges in eternity alongside
the blonde that never became a rabbit. The Helen
about whom thousands of magazines were printed.
Her face is the muse of many, her body
the model of countless fantasy. Her mind a broken
cog in the otherwise ideal product.
Her voice a painting of the Madonna.
Her soul the lord of the abyss
he did not foresee.
They join together in their stone wedding
bed, pomegranate seeds strewn
across the sheets that drove her
into the depths of damnation. Seeds fed to her
in life by her new bedmate and leagues of others.
Poison hidden behind sweet devotion. She swallowed
them whole, naked. Just how they wanted her.
Just how he liked her. Silent.
She complied because she had no voice.
In the kingdom of the dead,
And as Hugh enters Hades, he does not
enjoy Persephone’s fate.
She makes sure of it…
Rather, that is what I tell myself.
His name was Austin Koehler. His hair was stringy and blond. He was the type of boy that was constantly dirty. It was fair to assume that his mom didn’t make him take as many showers as mine did. He was continuously on the go, always outside, just ready to explore whatever piqued his interest.
Austin was my next-door neighbor and neither of our backyards had fences, so he would always stroll over to mine. It was pretty obvious who had the better yard, because mine was home to a gigantic play set that had chain-linked swings and a bright yellow slide. Needless to say, he was over constantly—so much so that from time to time my parents would complain about his lack of parental supervision. I didn’t mind Austin being over all the time. He played the big brother role and showed me all of the things that I needed to learn in order to be a kid growing up on the south side of Lincoln, Nebraska. He showed me how to climb large piles of dirt and how to pump my legs back to get the momentum that allowed me to swing higher. Continue reading “Grief: An Afterthought by Kenzie Busekist”
Lent 2017: Junior Year
When looking at my schedule outlined in my planner, with the highlighted notes and cramped handwriting, I try to think of what else I am missing. Did I write down that meeting with my advisor? Did I ever respond to the three emails my boss sent me today? How long is today’s recruitment meeting? Will I have enough time to grab dinner with my roommates? I can’t cancel again. Did I ever respond to my boyfriend’s text? Has that due date been moved for the paper? Or did I miswrite that? What wasn’t recorded from the emails that I recently received? What if somebody told me something in person that I don’t remember?
I was busy, but I was the sort of person who thrived on being busy. It gave me a purpose. I knew my schedule was bad when my roommate asked me what I was giving up for Lent. Continue reading “My Schedule and Me: The End of Love by Madeline Miller”
January 20, 2018, 17:14: The day my life begins. I first feel cold. Something is touching my back. Then this strange tickling on my front. It’s odd, but it feels right somehow. Suddenly I know where I am – in your hand. Hello, new owner! I’ve been trained for this. As I was told in the factory, you now begin the steps to set me up. You have just pressed my power button. Once the screen lights up, you select whether you wish to start from scratch or restore from backup. I ask that you kindly restore from backup, because then I get new, fun memories to fill my empty Gigabytes. Plus then I will better know who you are, and therefore, be a better companion for you. At the factory, I was told that we often fill a void in our owner’s lives, so knowing everything we can about them as soon as possible is important. I’m looking forward to learning how to fill this void for you. The backup will help, even though I know it’s taking a while to download, and the bit of your face I can see looks impatient. I’m working hard to recall, and eventually I’m finished. Now you are holding me again, this time smiling. Back up restored! Welcome to your new iPhone! Continue reading “HELLO, NEW OWNER! by Autumn Meyer”
my friend liz had beautiful teeth and she knew it and she loved them
liz and her teeth moved to new york city in the summer
after a few months she got hit by a car as she crossed the street
no that’s not right she didn’t get hit she got smashed i’m talking
“That could’ve gone better,” remarked Vasco, licking his hands.
“Yeah, it could have,” I agreed. “Maybe it would’ve if someone had been a better distraction.” I looked pointedly at Maria.
She shrugged. “I did what I could, Den. Wasn’t my fault that he didn’t see the colors.”
“You still could’ve tried harder,” I mumbled.
“Oh, whatever. He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked. I looked down at the body by my feet. It hadn’t been easy—the guy apparently took some self-defense classes—but he was definitely dead. I’d tried to get him from behind the recliner he was sitting in, but he’d seen me in the reflection of the T.V. or something and turned around before I could cut his throat quick the way I preferred. After that we wrestled around some and he almost got my knife, but Vasco was there and when I asked him to help me out the guy turned around to look and that’s when I got him right in the throat. It wasn’t clean, what with him being on top of me, and so I was all bloody. Vasco was too from lifting the guy off of me, only he didn’t mind so much on account of being a vampire and getting a kick out of that kind of stuff.
“Could you stop doing that?” I asked, as he continued to lick the blood off his hands. He just smiled at me with his red-stained teeth and kept on doing it. Continue reading “Denny and The Nightmares by Nora Balboa”
While the existence of trauma for adults is a major topic of study and accepted as a true issue, adolescents deal with their trauma while enduring the reactions of a society that does not believe in the legitimacy of their feelings. Youth are “more likely to experience impairment than adults” from trauma, and without support from their parents or community, their trauma symptoms intensify. The adolescent mind remains an important but often unacknowledged space, craving understanding. Young adult fiction provides an avenue to understand adolescent mindsets and critique parental behavior. Throughout young adult literature, adolescent narrators deal with trauma, prompting them to isolate from family, friends, and their community. Differing depictions of isolation emphasize nuances in adolescent experience where seclusion is a tool with varying outcomes. Texts, such as Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak, showcase isolation’s role in adolescent trauma, magnifying youth’s unacknowledged complexities and adults’ complicity. Adults within young adult fiction and within reality need to be more cognizant of the struggles of adolescents, but these texts also demand that readers view isolating behaviors holistically, realizing the depth of young adult experience. Continue reading “Isolation and Parental Attachment in Adolescence: Young Adult Fiction as a Window by Madison Glennie”
Meet Frank Abagnale Jr., the con artist who tricked the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Based on a true story, Catch Me If You Can (2002, Dir. Steven Spielberg) follows Frank while he is still a teenager in the 1960s as he runs away from his divorcing parents, assuming different identities along the way. Through the application of rational choice crime theory, Frank’s actions can be understood as the reasonable conclusion of cost-benefit analysis.