June 2013 w Vol. I, No. 2

Cover Art:

Mermaid Molly Benavides ‘13

Cover Art: Mermaid Molly Benavides ‘13

Table of Contents

Artwork: Mermaid...………………………………………………………..Cover Lock………………………………………………………………………..1 Crossbreed……………………………………………………………...2 One Drop Makes a Wave………………………………………....6 Deck the Halls…………………………………………………………9 Red Velvet……………………………………………………………...10 Stormy Sea…………………………………………………………….17 New Wave Fashion…………………………………………….…..19 Starry Night………………………………………………………….21 Family Antiques…………………………………………..………..25 Back to Black…………………………………………………………28 Untitled…………………………………………………………………30 Sun…………………………………………………………………….….44 Shattering Glass………………………………………………….…45 Hamlet at the Double-Edged Sword of Reason……......48 White Pages……………………………………………………..……52 Fall Tree……………………………………………………….……….54 Letting Go…………………………………………….……………….55 Horseback Riding…………………………………….…………….56 Capture…………………………………………………….…………..57

Lock Sophia Schleppenbach ‘15

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Writing: Battle of the (Malignant) Bulge……………........................3 Cerebral Schism………………………………..........................10 The Star…………………………………………………………….......11 And We Danced……………………………………………………...18 Frankenstein’s Romantic, Helpless Humanity………....22 A Deficiency Within Flawlessness……………………….……31 Ode to Existence………………………………………………...…..32 Catfish……………………………………………………………….….33 We Are All All Stardust…………………………………….…….44 Handle With Care……………………………………………….….45 John Proctor – Man or (Mono)Myth…………………..…..46 J’aime Vu……………………………………………………….……...54 Ode to a Daughter………………………………………………….55

Crossbreed

Mim

i Sams ‘13

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Battle of the (Malignant) Bulge  Anna Paige Padilla ‘13

August 20th (D-2) The sunlight revealed a hundred shades I never before noticed

in her amber hair. I made a point to memorize it, down to the last shade. I needed to remember it perfectly. Upon seeing the exasperated look on my face, Caroline laughed, unknowing pleased at my morbid foresight. The sound echoed like bells across the porch. If I never detected colours in her hair, something I saw every day, what else had I missed that was right in front of me?

Therein rested my biggest issue with dying. Everyone with a terminal disease feared death for some reason:

Where does one go when they die? Do people even go anywhere at all? Will I have regrets? Yadda yadda yadda.

No. My biggest fear hid in the roots of Caroline McKinley’s hair… not so much a fear of missing something to come, but missing something already past.

Death, an unstoppable force, came inevitably for me, and I was only human (read: less immovable object and more frail mortal). Thus, I possessed no qualms about missing the future. The present on the other hand, well that scared me. What was I already missing? My deteriorating frame no longer caused the ancient porch swing outside Caroline’s house to creak. Underneath her sudden weight, however, it let out a long groan, eons of tree spirits weeping for the splintering wood beneath us. “How are you today?” The vacant look in my eyes probably told her everything she needed to know, but every day since my diagnosis, Caroline asked the same question. As she savoured the sound of my words, disease exploded against consciousness, forcing itself into sharp relief. Caroline cherished the words, because there would be a time she would never hear my voice again. She knew it. I knew it. The doctors knew it.

“I’m alright. I’ve had better days.” The bench began to swing beneath us, as Caroline kicked her feet back and forth, awaiting more

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details about my day. “I saw Lucas at chemo. He’s bad…” The words lost themselves in my mouth.

“How bad is bad?” “Chemo bed.” At Mercy Hospital, the chemotherapy area has

layZboys and beds. Only the sickest of the sick (I mean come on, we’re all cancer patients; we’re not exactly the picture of health, anyway) get the beds. Once someone gets a bed… well… one of those death smelling cats will probably seek them out for a cuddle within the hour. (I’m one for rampant hyperbole, but chemo beds are still an invitation for the reaper).

“Oh… Man. Tell him I’m sorry next time you see him.” If I saw him. For a long while, we surveyed the skies in silence, before she said: “Senior year starts tomorrow.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s cool! Are you excited?” “I’d be more excited if my best friend was coming with me.” She

delivered me a deviant gaze, that sly smile playing her lips. “I may just kidnap you and drag you along. I hate to think of you being alone all day.”

“Psht. Alone. What are you talking about? I own a cat.” (She’s not the death seeking kind) Caroline shot me a suspicious look. “And my mom’s working from home now!” She still remained unconvinced. “You’re my next door neighbour. If you can’t live without me, you can walk to my house after school.”

The silence returned, and in it Caroline reached out to squeeze my hand.

As anyone but Louis Callaway, I might have wished for that moment under different circumstances, but I knew better than to want for things unrealistic. I watched my neighbour’s children run through the sprinklers, thankful they appreciated the moment they had. Too often people look toward tomorrow, mistaking it for the present, until suddenly it’s been fifteen years, and tomorrow never came.

I grew bored of the kids and returned to staring at her hair, growing ever angrier at the colours I failed to see. “Louis, where are you right now?”

With her question, I became distracted from my quest to damn 4

each individual unnoticed strand upon her head, each more ardently than the last, and fell into the jewelled waters of her eyes. “You know… here… there… everywhere…” I rolled my eyes theatrically, hoping her omnipotent gaze missed the falter in my grin, but her scowl informed me otherwise.

“Is there something in my hair?” She sounded more confused than concerned.

“It just looks pretty today. It’s a nice colour.” For the record, it looked pretty every day. After all, the hair grew upon her head and according to the laws of the universe, anything in immediate proximity to Caroline was by definition beautiful. The sun ignited the clouds, and I wondered how many sunsets were left until our last.

“Mm.” She let out a non-committal noise, closing her eyes. At ten years old, I asked her why she shut her eyes to every

sunset and, in Carolinian style, she replied: to see the beauty a little better. I have about as much understanding of her reasoning now as I did at ten years old, but just imagine that: A hyper-observant ten year old who closed her eyes to see, and her scrawny next door neighbour sitting on a porch swing.

From the right angle, I suppose someone could have seen me falling in love.

August 21st (D-1) Pain radiated through every inch of my body, and a sumo

wrestler’s weight rested on my chest. I suffocated and drowned, unabetted by anything other than my illness. I readied for death, and it must have shown in my eyes because my mother suddenly squeezed my hand so hard I heard a crack. I wanted to squeeze back but I was so weak… Suddenly she began to shrink in my vision.

She grew farther away, a squeak of wheels beneath me. Blurry outlines of white clad people pervaded my vision with shouts penetrating the white noise buzzing around my mind. Nothing made sense, with exception to the pain, which rang clear through the haze like church bells on a Sunday.

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August 22nd (D Day) Rain thrashed against the hospital room’s window, and in my

peripheral vision I noticed lightning fork across the sky. In the corner my mother’s tiny frame moulded itself into the biggest available chair. For the first time I noticed, she too had grown thin with the progression of my sickness, too busy talking care of her son to take care of herself.

I had been at the hospital since 8AM yesterday and after 39 hours, and finally I could think clearly enough to formulate sentences… too bad I had no one to talk to.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. “Louis?” Caroline’s voice chimed in the door frame, a symphony of beeping and whirrs prepared for her arrival. “Louis!” She nearly threw herself on top of me, but thought better of it when she noticed the IV and monitors.

One Drop Makes A Wave Molly Benavides ‘13

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“Your mom called me an hour ago to say you were awake, but I was asleep.” She rambled on until her Oxygen store depleted to dangerously low levels.

My mother awoke with a knee jerk. “Oh! Caroline. I worried you missed my message.” They hugged softly. “I’m going to get some coffee. I’ll bring you some.”

“You can lay here if you want.” I patted the space to my right. If I was Caroline, I wouldn’t have wanted to. My translucent skin and blue tinted lips appeared even ghastlier in her luminescence.

“It won’t hurt you?” I shook my head and she curled herself up against me on the hospital bed (a bit too much like one of those death smelling cats for comfort). “Louis…” I could hear the three words hang heavy on my name before she said them, and desperately, I hoped she wouldn’t. “I—I…” Tears started welling up in her eyes, and despite the oxygen tube under my nose, the IV in my arm, or my sickly completion, she kissed me. The beeping of my heart monitor increased accordingly. This was bad. “Louis, I was so afraid it might happen before… before I got to tell you that I’ve loved you, and I’ve loved you since you moved in next door when you were nine, and I’ll love you until I die, and…” She dissolved into snivels.

This was very, very bad. “Caroline, no. Stop!” She wiped her tears, but they weren’t my

concern. “Don’t—Don’t say you love me. Please. You know… you know my chances and I can’t—No Caroline. Just… forget those feelings. Please.”

A silent scream ravaged her cerebral cortex. “Oh. I…” She wasn’t understanding properly.

“Caroline… I’ve felt that way about you for a very long time… and because I… like you more than anyone should admit… I have to tell you not to say that... not to feel that.” Though exhausting to speak, I needed to say these words. “If you love me… you’ll do this for me.” She started to get up, flushed, but I weakly embraced her, and she allowed the grasp to imprison her, though she could have easily broken it.

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“I don’t care, you know. I don’t care that you’re sick. I don’t care that you have fewer days left on this earth than I. I’d gladly suffer through…” She searched for a word. “After… if it meant…” I kissed the top of her head.

“I can’t, Caroline. I can’t allow my legacy to be the girl I left behind.” She lay her head in the crook of my neck, her cold pink nose pressed against my flesh.

My mother never came back with the coffee which I’m pretty sure didn’t exist, and finally after an hour I roused Caroline from her half sleep state. “I need you to promise me something.”

“I can’t promise not to love you.” “…I need you to forget me when the time comes.” She parted

her pretty pink lips to protest. “Please.” Caroline only nodded. My head still spun a half hour after she left Mercy Hospital,

making me restless. I turned the news on very softly, listening to the late night announcements. I, too, only descended half way into sleep, hardly registering the newscaster saying, “According to witnesses the driver lost control of the car in the onslaught of rain and flipped over the median three times… The driver’s identity and condition is unknown at this time.”

December 10th (D +474)

“Hi, Caroline. I’m sorry I missed the anniversary…” I tucked my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as unimposing as possible. The white daisies at my feet couldn’t make up for my absence on such an important day, but those flowers held a special place in her heart… daisies… her favourite. “I actually came home last night… and I’m officially cancer free... The doctors in Colorado confirmed it…” I scooted closer to Caroline, but even still, she felt miles away. “In Colorado, I thought of you so much… and about why I fell in love with you when I was ten… and I thought of ‘closing my eyes to see the beauty…’ But nobody had to close their eyes to see yours, because you’re the kind of good that overflows from the inside. God… You were so beautiful.” It was the first time I had

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referred to her in past tense. “I should have told you I loved you that night. I should have told you I loved you that night. I should have told you.” A thin layer of frost encased the ground separating the two of us. Gently, I kissed her stone, tracing the etched letters with my fingertips.

I wracked my brains trying to remember what she wore during our last sunset together or what her laugh sounded like that day… but all I could remember was the colour of her hair.

Deck the Halls Mackensie Martin ‘14

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Cerebral Schism Anna Paige Padilla ‘13

You say you want me as I am But this vice is part of me Just know there’s something nice and sweet Hidden under all of this debris

You cannot have the light within Without a little dark

nor have a burning flame Without a little spark

So here’s the truth, plain and clean I am entrapped by vice I wish I was only sugar But I am mostly spice

Red Velvet Elise LaBella ‘13

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Sweat rolled off his body and seeped into the sheets covering him. He woke with a start, breathless from the horrific dream that even now consumed his mind. Through the transparent ceiling above his bed, the stars spun and whirled. His chest rose and fell irregularly as he gasped for breath through the fear that engulfed his being, sucking the life from him. He raised his hand to his face and wiped the drops of sweat away; but they kept coming. Slowly his eyes turned up to the sky, his mind seeking serenity. The reflection of the lights speckled his dilated eyes, turned up to the broad suspense of velvet darkness. Lying in the grass, he watched her long white body as she rose and walked to the edge of the lake. Perfectly formed she stood, poised and silhouetted against the trees and the moon. She paused. Lazily he yawned and settled himself rolling on his side, his eyes never leaving her. She drew up tall, raising her arms above her head. She sprang; then dove. Sharp and precise, her body shattered the placid face of the water sending the reflection of the stars dancing and rippling. He turned his eyes to the satiny darkness above. Life

The Star Sophie Athas ‘13

The fear that seeped in was infectious and delicious. Behind the counter, she watched as it took hold of them one by one. Calmly she continued to dry the glass. Twisting and turning, it glinted in the musky light. Outside, the stars wheeled closer and faster. Her eyes sparkled and danced. Her hand continued to twist the towel round and round the glass. Her eyes roamed back and forth from the faces bathed in sweat to the window, dark and sparkled with stars. She smiled and turned away. The water from the glass pooled at her feet, reflecting the gaudy lights on the ceiling ……………………………………………………………………………………………………  

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appeared to have reversed, and now the heavens reflected the turbulently agitated water. Strong and beautiful, her face broke surface. Her hands rose to her upturned face, her silver eyes glinting like the stars twinkling on the water around her. Drop by drop the water fell into the little puddle. Crouched beside the water, the boy’s eyes from behind his thick glasses watched breathlessly as he let the water droplets fall. Over and over again he let the water come to the end of the dropper and “drop!” he watched it fall into the pool. He watched as the face of the water was disturbed, broken, then as it gradually returned to placidity. Again and again he did this. Darkness fell swiftly and suddenly; with exasperation, the boy looked to the sky and his breath was taken away. The dropper fell from his hand as he rose slowly and reverently. With his face upturned, his eyes shone in the sea of stars reflected on his glasses. Profiled against the dark night his small figure was dwarfed by the enormity of life and darkness. The petty world of water. That is what the “greatest planet” was called by us. To them it is the great planet Earth. How little they know. Though, my love, they are right about one thing: We are more technologically advanced then they are. And they can do nothing to stop us. So we keep at it. And they, in their ignorance, believe we cannot exist without the things that they must exist with. I would laugh but we do not stoop to their level. Yes, they are wrong, and this will be righted. Oh, we exist, and we control. We are everywhere and in every place. And we carry destruction in our hands. Just as the girl behind the bar twisted the glass, so we twist the humans. Just as the darkness engulfed the light, we can engulf the goodness. Just as the placidity of the water was shattered by the girl’s body, so will the ideals of the

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world will be shattered by the body of the intangible. Effectiveness and justice are on our side. And these are the weapons that we will use. Conceited liars (humans, darling) convince themselves of the truth, but this does not make it true. Just as water turns to ice, but inherently, stays water. Water is the great turning point of humanity. Ironically, this will also be the end. You see, the way they would expect us to attack, is through reality, but an expected attack, is a weak one, you see? Therefore, (do you follow?) an attack that is without reality is a greater attack because it flaunts the unexpected. This war was not the first one of this type. The attack of the Planet millenniums of years ago, was one that was out of the realm of reality. And hence, one which cannot easily be accepted. It was not just, and this is what concerns them. They cannot accept that many actions have no justification. They will not accept that the universe can go on without them. Acceptance. Acceptance is not necessary for effectiveness. This is what we have perfected. But this acceptance is the one thing necessary for humans to call something just. But does it make it so? Or does it not? I am sure you don’t know, my love. There were only a few who knew in the first place, but they are all as the rest shall be: 13

Dead, dearest. The stars kept wheeling toward the earth Rain began to fall softly and slowly. The girl behind the bar stopped twisting the glass. The rain slithered down the glass of the window. Her fingers released as her face turned to the window. The glass made its way to the puddle that had formed at her feet. The rain pattered harder down the grimy window. The glass exploded before hitting the ground, and the beautiful shards stopped their descent and slowly began to rise. The water on the floor shattered like a glass plate and began to rise toward the fragmentized widow pane. Convulsing and consolidating from around the world, whirling and ethereal, glass and water effervesced from the earthy planet. Joining to a crystalized tornado, drawing from the entire planet. It was unreal and unhallowed. The girl smiled and was gone. Still lying on his back, the fear stifling him, the rain softly glided onto his translucent roof. He threw the sheets off his body. Simultaneously, the ceiling splintered into a spider web, the cracks spreading and dispersing. His chest heaved; gasping, the sweat was being stripped off his body, terror and death replacing it. Piece by piece the shards flew to the heavens. And with them went the life blood from his veins.

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His glassed eyes looked through the empty hole above him. Beautiful shapes decorated the sky, all made from glass and water. But he did not see. In his mind he replayed her perfect dive. She had risen, unearthly and beautiful from the ground at his side, and walked to the edge of the water. She was lying beside him again, her pale body against his. Her silver eyes, expectantly watched the sky. He saw in his mind her poised to dive. Her body shuddered in strange anticipation. A light covering of rain glistened on her skin. Her starlike eyes shone up at the sky. Her body entered the lake again, as he thought it over. In his mind’s eye he saw the placid surface break. But then he heard the sound of the lake shattering. It was too real, it was too soon—no! He knew it shouldn’t happen at all. But it did happen. He dared not open his eyes, but he knew she was gone. He was alone. The glass and water from the shattered lake began to pelt on his face, shower all over his body, slicing and tearing. And they blended with the tears streaming from his face. It was over.

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The glass drew up, swirling, from the earth to the chasm of sky above. The earth from above was covered with a mosaic of shimmering reddened glass. He remained still. The little boy watched as the drops of water, lit by a flashlight, reversed their path and shattered up to the sky. He was breathless and unafraid. He kept watching even when he couldn’t see, after his glasses joined the shimmering shattered glass orb that rose from the earth. The beauty that now surrounded him was unlike anything he had ever seen. He was able to see it as it converged, joined, consummated destruction into one unearthly and unrealistic star, suspended above the earth, willing and ready to vomit death. Framed against the sky, the behemoth sphere was surrounded by the lights of millions of stars. Still they went round and round, faster and faster. They began to blur and mingle into one horrific smear of lights. The colors began to pulsate and join. A kaleidoscope of light and radiant color The world was stripped of glass and water The little boy felt no fear, The glass star rose high above the earth, Silhouetted against the buttery darkness

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Poised He held his breath It paused Then dove to earth.

Stormy Sea Molly Benavides ‘13

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And We Danced Kimberly Snider '13

In my family, we are natural dancers; not one person has two left feet, And we drink in each moment, every step, like it’s our last. My mother said I always danced: in her belly, at school, around the

house, And not one soul could stop me. It was my escape and my happiness. Some steps are proper and others are felt from the heart, deep inside

your soul, However, my mother thought I ought to take some of them lessons, by

Golly. I loved my teachers, and I hate the feeling of narcissism, but I knew I

impressed them. I skipped levels; I was receiving my first communion But they were getting their licenses. Never failing, dancing filled my loneliness each class I learned every step, each delicate spin, but I grew tired. I had completed them all: ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop, contemporary,

and others. The dance never quit in me, though, no Sir. My family taught me more, the traditional steps from my ancestors. I felt the connection, a new feeling in my stomach that I wanted to

grab And show the world so they could see it, too. But I knew they could. Dancing brought happiness in my life to fill the voids All the darkness and secrets, my bones in a closet, or two. As I age, I see the aggressiveness in the art of dancing, turning It into a primal mating ritual by bumping and grinding, bending girls

over. Dancing is not sex, but it has intimacy that can be shared. I grew closer with my family through dancing, learning and showing Off to cousins, line dancing with my aunts, fox trotting with my

grandfather. I still dance to his tune around the house, remembering his sweet face with every turn.

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New Wave Fashion Molly Benavides '13

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I remember swinging with my father, picking me up, fly through the air,

And catching me to George Strait. With friends, I am most happy. I see them and dance to this

happiness. However, with a man, dancing is a game, both on the same team Yet showing tricks to impress a single-person audience. It took a whole year to get my sweetheart to dance, for he said, “It’s not for me, only you. Go have fun, and I’ll watch.” A time of laughing and spinning, but I danced alone. It stung, why am I dancing alone? Dancing is for smiling, laughing,

spinning, Making mistakes in my steps, learning more from strangers, But a person who didn’t want that. How could that be? I obliged, but realized that I wanted him there, taking the steps with

me. The first time out was memorable with a bout of jealousy: I had gone with friends and my sweetheart to an uppity club to dance, But he took no steps, spun me only once, and isolated himself. I danced with a fine, Southern boy instead, and Steven’s eyes were

blazing. He crossed the room, nearly dancing to the tune, his head bobbing. See! How truly magic dancing is! Even when against it, his body desired to move, experience the music And show his emotion through steps and spins. We retired to a parking lot where I taught him a simple waltz and

polka. In practically no time, he had it. He was dancing, and he was smiling. My hand in his, we waltzed in the parking lot, listening only to the

beat of our own hearts Our bodies’ drum, our metronome, our personal music, Telling us how to move with each other, grace the ground With each step, every dip beautifully executed. “I never want to see you dancing with another guy again, ever”

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In all the seriousness in the world, I wouldn’t dare, and I reminded myself that dancing brings people together, but it can break them just as easily.

He held me through the night to a sweet waltz, and I breathed in the moment,

Never wanting to let go. And so, we danced. My hand in his, we waltzed in the parking lot, listening only to the beat

of our own hearts Our bodies’ drum, our metronome, our personal music, Telling us how to move with each other, grace the ground With each step, every dip beautifully executed. “I never want to see you dancing with another guy again, ever” In all the seriousness in the world, I wouldn’t dare, and I reminded

myself that Dancing brings people together, but it can break them just as easily. He held me through the night to a sweet waltz, and I breathed in the

moment, Never wanting to let go. And so, we danced.

Starry Night –

Van G

ogh M

ikala Booher ‘14

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Frankenstein’s Romantic, Helpless Humanity Abraham Hwang ’13

In Frankenstein, Mary Shelley argues that humanity, given bestial characteristics of instinct and self-interest and the uniquely human characteristic of intellect, begins with Tabula Rasa, an innocent, amoral mindset. With these innate characteristics, humanity leaves the state of Tabula Rasa by following the curiosity to understand its identity according to nature. As shown through Victor’s childhood exploration of natural philosophy, humanity pursues this curiosity with intellect, the ability to attain and recall knowledge about personal ambitions to overcome nature that causes deterioration and death. This intellect creates systems of morality and community. Similarly, the monster reveals that humanity inclines to unify with nature through creature-like instinct. Both the monster and Victor, driven by their instincts and intellects, develop self-interest to understand their respective purposes, how they should live according to nature, and carry out their understandings of their realizations. In doing so, Victor through the creation of the monster deviates from natural death; however, he detests the monster, as a legitimately physical representation of the earth. The monster, in turn, acknowledges his dependence on nature and abhors humanity, represented mostly in Victor, for not submitting to nature. Using instinct and self-interest to realize their identities according to nature, the monster and Victor reveals the hopeless struggle of humanity to overcome nature.

As humanity follows instinct and pursues self-interest, each man realizes his the limits of his humanity that returns him to the earth as a result of death; moreover, in this realization, man makes morals in order to achieve immortality through civilization. Choosing different fates and avoiding extinction, men unify these morals to continue humanity through procreation. This community of survival creates a system of archetypes in which man overcomes natural death through birth. Thus, in pursuit of his self-interest and instinct, man develops morals with his intellect as he realizes his mortality. Mary Shelley

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defines these morals in her story according to the archetype of women, the Greco-Roman perspective of nature, and a universal antithesis to the existence of humanity. The women of the Frankenstein family play the roles of the essential female counterpart to man and the procreator. With hopes of providing Victor moral perfection, Alphonse and Caroline adopt Elizabeth Lavenza as Victor’s lifelong companion and his partner in continuing the Frankenstein lineage. In response, Victor “…interpreted her words [his mother’s consideration of Elizabeth as his present] literally, and looked upon Elizabeth…to protect, love, and cherish” (Shelley 21; ch. 1). Shelley shows that man, with the self-interest and instinct to simply exist and survive, ultimately copes with his death by creating life. Representative of man, Victor intellectualizes the female archetype, the universal set of characteristics expressed by moral women. This female archetype burdens women with the responsibility of continuing humanity by attaining their ultimate companion, men, and procreating to symbolically combine into one existence. Because man relies on woman to breed and continue humanity, woman ideally plays the role of loyal companion with the sole responsibility to reproduce. In “The monster in a dark room: Frankenstein, feminism, and philosophy”, Nancy Yousef further points out within Shelley’s narrative that man desires the procreative role played by the female archetype that he cannot physically achieve in Victor’s creation of the monster:

The Promethean arrogance of Frankenstein’s project, the ambition to create life without the other, and the inescapable erasure of the feminine and the maternal that that ambition and project entail: these have been the foci of varied feminist interpretations of the novel, which have also been overwhelmingly

influenced by psychoanalytic and psycholinguistic theories. (par. 2)

Shelley shows the Romantic ideal of singularity in which one individual attains the various capabilities of all creation. Victor, in his attempt to fulfill the ideal of singularity, relinquishes his dependence

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on a companion to procreate and takes the female archetype upon him. The Romantic era in which Frankenstein takes place considers man superior to the nature of beasts and fate. Considering nature immoral, Victor rejects ancient philosophies in which man reconciles with nature: “Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy. It was very different when the masters of the science sought immortality and power” (Shelley 32; ch. 3). Shelley implies in Victor’s thoughts that man in natural philosophy accepts his creation from nature and inevitable return to nature. Embodying Romantic thought, Victor resents submitting himself to an indifferent, everlasting, dominant presence-nature. He, thus, deems nature as immoral, contrary to his desires for dominance through immortality and infinite prowess, and engages in a constant struggle with nature. Shelley references Milton’s Paradise Lost as the monster relates his immoral creation to Satan’s immoral existence and infernal isolation after his casting out of heaven: “The novel’s account of the creature’s education [reading Paradise Lost] responds directly to eighteenth-c e n t u r y p h i l o s o p h i c a l c o n c e p t i o n s o f h u m a n n a t u r e [Romanticism]” (Yousef par. 4). The monster realizes his distinct origin from nature and sees himself as the antithesis of man. Shelley, in her reference to Paradise Lost, reveals that the knowledge of origin leads individuals, such as the monster, to consider themselves immoral according to the rest of their species. Humanity requires a living scapegoat to vent its frustrations upon. Victor creates the antithesis to humanity: he, without the female archetype, creates a monster, a symbol of man succumbing to natural death from dead body parts. After he separates himself from society in order to dedicate himself to the secret of life, Victor recalls, “Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave” (Shelley 40; ch. 4). Shelley shows the irony of man’s morals: in his pursuit to surpass nature by discovering immortality, Victor, representative of humanity, depends on nature to do so. Therefore, the fulfillment of the Romantic philosophy depends on an opposite ideology, modern natural philosophy, to define itself.   24

Defining personal immorality as concepts that prevent the accumulation of power in the community, man bases his morals on the harbingers of death and anomie. Individualism distinguishes humans from each other and thus prevents gathering, in which men unite and combine their beliefs. Preventing the separation of man and engendering this unity, Victor recurrently desires a doppelganger, another man who would wholeheartedly befriend Victor by relating to him with an identical dogma. Victor, in beginning his research to create the monster, says, “A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me” (Shelley 40; ch. 4). Shelley reveals that human immortality requires the gathering of man. Victor ironically secludes himself to engender this gathering. Moreover, man ultimately desires to rid society of distinguishing characteristics, such as difference in gender,

Family Antiques Elise LaBella ‘13

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physical appearance, and personal beliefs. In “Narcissism as Symptom and Structure: The Case of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein”, Joseph Kestner shows that in making the monster as a mirror image of himself, Victor creates the perfect society in his need for a doppelganger in the novel: “Victor Frankenstein’s evident longing for another, despite his close friendship with Henry Clerval and his betrothal to Elizabeth, leads to the creation of a being who becomes the Inadequate Other which is in reality Victor himself” (par. 2). Man best copes with his tendencies for individualism when he duplicates himself. With regards similar to those about individualism, man deems nature as his ultimate contrast. The monster—with the instinct, self-interest, and intellect of man—dislikes his own image, the amalgam of multiple corpses. Realizing this essence brands him as a monster, he resents his own creation, the unconventional birth from science against tradition: “Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings [of solitude and helplessness]. Soon after my arrival in the hovel, I discovered some papers in the pocket of the dress which I had taken from your laboratory” (Shelley 118; ch. 15). Following the common phrase “made from the ground,” Shelley reveals the Romantic ideology in which man contrasts nature. The monster considers himself lonely in existence as he derives from nature. In his dissertation “Bone Machines: Hotrods, Hypertextuality, And Industrialism”, Willaim Nesbitt demonstrates that Victor further ironically foreshadows the bleak progress of humanity by creating his monster: “If part of the dream that Frankenstein refers to includes the dream or goal of industrialism as a way to revolutionize labor and better human life, then Frankenstein’s horror and disgust represents the shock and revulsion that England felt after the onset of industrialism” (13). According to Nesbitt, Shelley reveals the reality of humanity’s ideals through Victor. Humanity desires independence and dominance over nature, an omnipresent force that causes death. In gaining that dominance, however, humanity transforms into a force similar to nature with indifference to the lives of the rest of creation. The monster, reflecting how the future of humanity transforms into nature, achieves physical dominance over and eventually acquires indifference towards humanity. Similarly, man opposes death because

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death ends humanity. Victor, following the creation of morality, pursues the secret to life, but, in doing so, he cannot reconcile with the inevitable death of humanity: “I became dizzy with the immensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised, that among so many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the same science that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a secret” (Shelley 38; ch. 4). Through Victor’s character, Shelley criticizes the Romantic philosophy as unrealistic. Unlike other men, who accept death as fate, Victor deems death as immoral and strives to prevent it.

Ultimately, man cannot achieve his ideals because he inclines towards the anti-ideals. His anti-ideals inevitably occur; thus, knowledge of this morality dooms man to a state of futility, hopelessness, or despair. In the novel, Victor opposes nature as the source of humanity. In following his opposition, however, his creation reflects the fate of humanity as dependent on nature for survival:

I lay by the side of a brook resting from my fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I found hanging on the trees, or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the brook; and then lying down, was overcome by sleep. (Shelley 90; ch. 11)

Shelley expresses through her characters her atheistic beliefs about creation and humanity. On Earth, man survives based on the mercy of nature. In survival, he inclines to nature, his romantic evil. With inclinations toward nature, humanity follows its instinct to follow bestial desires of dominance without using its intellect to understand the consequences of its actions: “Thus, one might contend that Frankenstein is a parody of or warning against the misguided idealism fueling science and the Industrial Revolution, the egotism powering them, and the lack of foresight at the miserable effects thereof” (Nesbitt 11). Thus, Shelley illustrates that humanity disreg-

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-ards its intellect and inclines towards nature following the desire to survive. Humanity, as separate existences, individualizes. Despite having the human characteristic of intellect, the monster attracts disgust and hatred from the rest of humanity: “He turned on hearing a noise; and, perceiving me [as an eight foot tall, differently pigmented being], shrieked loudly, and, quitting the hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared capable” (Shelley 93; ch. 11). In the rejection of the monster, Shelley shows within the human psyche an innate horror against distinguishing characteristics that gives men the ability to overcome each other. Out of fear of submission to others, man isolates himself to keep his own power as opposed to sharing power out of hope for an omnipotent humanity. Shelley shows that man isolates himself as a result of an innate Narcissism: “Thus, Frankenstein, through its structure, presents a narrative of narcissistic Selves and Others” (Kestner par. 5). Shelley reveals that humanity progresses to further self-interest. Man inevitably dies following his emotions and ideals. Victor says, “I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I

Back to Black Taylor Young ‘14

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gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die” (Shelley 202; ch. 24). Shelley reveals within the Romantic philosophy the futility of man. The Romantic philosophy characterizes man as living an intelligent existence as he questions his identity according to his capabilities. Death, however, makes these capabilities and all of man’s accomplishments fruitless.

In Frankenstein, Mary Shelley states her atheistic beliefs that humanity begins amorally without the knowledge of a fallen or heavenly nature and only with instinct, self-interest, and the uniquely human characteristic of intellect. Pursuing self-interest with instinct, individuals recognize the inevitable fate of returning to the earth through natural death. Futilely staving inevitable extinction, men use intellect to continue humanity through procreation and community. Thus, men create morality from the fear of nonexistence. Uselessly ignoring his own nature, however, man fails to achieve his ideals because he cannot escape his own fate, natural death. Mary Shelley in Frankenstein characterizes humanity as derivatives of nature doomed to return to its source despite the distinguishingly human characteristic of intellect.

Works Cited Kestner, Joseph. “Narcissism as Symptom and Structure: The Case of Mary

Shelley’s Frankenstein.” Frankenstein. Ed. Fred Botting. Londeon: Macmillan, 1995. 68-80. Rpt in Nineteenth-Century Literature Criticism. Ed. Jessica Bomarito and Russel Whitaker. Vol. 170. Detroit: Gale, 2006. Literature Resource Center. Web. 10 Feb. 2013.

Nesbitt, William. “Bone Machines: Hotrods, Hypertextuality, And Industrialism.” Diss. Florida State University, 2003. Web.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. New York, New York: Batnam Dell, 2003. Print. Yousef, Nancy. “The monster in a dark room: Frankenstein, feminism, and

philosophy.” Modern Language Quarterly 63.2 (2002): 197+. Literature Resource Center. Web. 10 Feb. 2013

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Untitled Olive Pedraza ‘15

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A Deficiency Within Flawlessness Kimberly Snider ‘13

The loop embodies eternity, protection, and unity, and

the square determines structure, foundation, and fundamentals. The two can work together and strive or oppose one in an attempt to end the other. This exact circle contains a number of complete squares as well as uneven ones in which the latter is underrepresented. In expressing a society, each square represents a person within a community, the circle. Those who are incomplete suffer unjustified repercussions, unable to impress faultlessness, untaught in society and the crowd. No matter the determination or passion, each part of this social order cannot escape its outcome. In a congruous way, the circle may only function if each underprivileged and underdeveloped piece clings to the wholly shaped squares. However, if the imperfections choose to wither away, the circle of squares becomes a square of many squares: complete order within order, which destroys spirit and uniqueness within a society as well as an individual. Reflectively, perhaps this particular loop represents the individual; each part embodies an emotion, a trait, and wholly a personality. Only in this system exists distinctiveness, personality. By using Devil’s Advocate, a society and each of its individuals must strive with uniqueness; however, most members suffer the unavoidable consequences. In that, brightness subsists, each shape trapping the sweet liquid of knowledge, power, and pursuit. Not every entity within this circle may obtain an identical amount, but they can offer their undeniable passion in pursuit.

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Beginning with a repulsive light and pain Expelled from safety and comfort The world a foreign idea now becoming reality Confusion and chaos, all that is known However, the light and pain subside and some semblance of safety is

returned Sleep, wake, rinse and repeat Ignorant happiness comes with an unknown price, A limited experience, over too quickly, Like a high with an eventual crash Knowledge fills the time, day in day out Sleep, wake, rinse and repeat Life, the state of consciousness Droning day to day, drowning in self-importance Accomplishing inconsequential tasks with a pat on the back Some searching, some saying they’ve found, None finding truth or anything of importance Sleep, wake, rinse and repeat Eventually the mind slips and loses sight of importance, The higher level thinking that makes a human Memory slips and a life of learning becomes for naught A realization that the ultimate price must be paid by all Looking back, accomplished nothing Those around disappear one by one, and the inevitable comes to

fruition Culminating with the relentless dark and unstoppable nothingness Sleep

Ode to Existence Geoffrey Smith ‘13

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Catfish Gabrielle Howard, Rachel McManus, and Morgan Petri ‘13

  The term catfish comes from a documentary, Catfish, following the relationship of Yavin "Nev" Schulman and his eight-year old pen pal, Abby. Nev lives in New York City and shares an office with his brother Ariel and their friend Henry. Nev is a photographer and has one of his photographs published in the newspaper, and three months later he receives a portrait of his painting. The painting was done by an eight-year old girl named Abby. Nev and Abby form a relationship through email and Nev will send Abby pictures that she will, in turn, make into paintings. Through this friendship Nev becomes acquainted with Abby's entire family. Nev is friends with her family on Facebook, has seen pictures of her, and talks to her mom on the phone, as well. Nev's brother, Ariel, becomes fascinated with Abby and Nev's relationship and decides to do a documentary about it which leads to the catfish revolution.

Here is a sample of one of the many cards from Abby:

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This is just an example of how close Nev became with Abby, and the friendship that had formed between them.

Being friends with Abby's family on Facebook leads Nev to

become friends with Abby's half sister Megan. Ariel begins documenting Nev's friendship with Abby and you can see how much Nev knows and learns about Abby's family. Nev and Megan being talking on the phone, texting, messaging, emailing, and flirting. They have never seen each other in person or on Skype, only talked on the phone. Here is a sample of their chat conversations:

Megan is supposedly a singer and dancer and posts covers of her doing songs on her Facebook, but when Nev looks up one of the songs, he discovers someone else sang the version she posted and finds the real singer for many of the songs she posted as her own. This is the first instance that Nev sees that Megan is lying and then begins questioning his relationship with Abby and her entire family. This leads Nev and his friends to research Abby and her family, resulting in more hiccups and lies with their stories. Nev decides to do a surprise visit to Megan's house to finally meet the person he has been communicating with.

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The road trip to find out the truth continues as they begin their journey to find out the truth about Megan and Abby. Upon reaching the house that Megan was supposed to reside, Nev and his brother discover that no one lives in the house and that all the letters Nev had sent to the address were still in the mailbox. Next, Nev ventures to Abby's house and is greeted by a woman that looks nothing like the woman on Facebook or in the painting that "Abby" painted of her. The lie is deepened when Nev meets Abby and her friend who says that Abby doesn’t paint. Also, her friend says that she has never seen Abby's older sister.

So finally Nev decides to confront Angela who confesses that she has made everything up. She created numerous Facebook accounts and used other peoples pictures to create identities for them. She admitted to being the person that painted the paintings; -not Abby. She also confessed to being the voice of Megan and pretending to be her, as well. She confessed that the life she was living was not the one she imagined. Also, Abby really does have a daughter named Megan, who is in rehab for alcoholism. Angela built a life of lies using social media, she used it to create the life she always wanted.

At the end of the documentary, Angela's real husband, Vince,

talks about how some people are catfish. He says that when live cod were shipped to Asia from North America, the fish's inactivity in their tanks resulted in only mushy flesh reaching the destination, but fishermen found that putting catfish in the tanks with the cod kept them active, and thus ensured the quality of the fish. Vince talks of how there are people in everyone's lives who keep them active, always on their toes and always thinking. It is implied that he believes Angela to be such a person. Months after, Nev receives a portrait of himself that Angela began during his visit, and we also learn that Angela closed all of the Facebook accounts except her own, but it now has a picture of herself as the profile picture.  

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 This story led to the term "catfish" a revolution in the online dating world, that brought light to a dark truth in the online dating world and in the new ways people communicate. Since the beginning of the documentary millions of people have come forward with their own catfish stories. This new phenomenon in online dating has people even more scared to find love online, but has also driven more people to fake their identities. This story shows how far people will go to hide the truth; but also warns that your lies will catch up to you.

The documentary led Nev, his brother Ariel, and their friend

Henry Joost to create the television show, Catfish, which followed one person each episode who is talking to someone online, but have never met in person. They take the person to the supposed house of their online love and find out whether they are real or just catfish.

This new idea of catfishing opened up doors for thousands of

people to become a different person, but the intentions were not always for the better. Online daters expect to meet people who actually exist, even though it is incredibly easy to create a fake account or user. Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te’o was blindsided in 2012 by a fake woman. Te’o was born in Hawaii in 1991 and showed athletic potential in grade school. He moved up to high school football where he won many awards and honors. He began to draw attention from the NCAA, and he signed with the University of Notre Dame Fighting Irish in 2009. Throughout his college career, Te’o was named a Freshman All-American, Second Team All-American, and Defensive Player of the Year, received the Lott Trophy, Butkus Award, Lombardi Award, and in his Senior season, he was the runner-up for the Heisman Trophy right behind Texas A&M’s Johnny Manziel. Te’o also led in tackles for three straight seasons and had the most interceptions when he was a senior. Needless to say, Manti Te’o dominated his college career and became the most well-known defensive player in the NCAA. The San Diego Chargers selected Te’o in the 2013 NFL Draft. 36

Te’o announced on September 11,2012 that his grandmother had died, and six hours later his girlfriend also passed away that same day. Lennay Kekua, Stanford University student and Te’o’s girlfriend, lost her battle against leukemia. Her death was devastating to Te’o even though they had never met in person. The relationship was strictly online, and Te’o admitted he lied to his father about meeting Kekua out of fear of embarrassment. Te’o played hard in the games following the tragic news. At the beginning of December, he received a phone call from a person with the voice of Kekua saying she was still alive. A few weeks later he told the University of the deception, and the school secretly hired a private investigator to understand the situation. Somehow, a blog called Deadspin got a hold of the news in early January. The information spilled out to the public, and soon enough rumors and conspiracies rose with multiple allegations. Deadspin released an article two weeks later that said Lennay Kekua was not the person Te’o had believed her to be. After more research, Stanford University had no records of Kekua, and no hospital in the area reported a woman by that name with a case of leukemia. Sources revealed a man named Ronaiah Tuiasosopo was behind the entire event. Tuiasosopo was a family friend of Te’o, but they did not see each other very often. The pictures Tuiasosopo used for Lennay Kekua’s appearance belonged to his high school classmate. All in January, Tuiasosopo confessed, was interviewed, and Te’o was given the benefit of the doubt. Tuiasosopo said he fell in love with Te’o, but in order to stay hidden he created Kekua.

Manti Te’o was the victim of a common trick played by a

person wanting to hide. As a matter of fact, situations like Te’o’s turned out to be more common than previously thought. Nev’s documentary movie about his catfishing story unveiled hundreds of relationships in which two people had never met. Nev turned these stories into TV episodes to broadcast all over the world. Some could say Nev wanted to highlight the dangers of online dating to warn

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people about the consequences of meeting people behind a computer screen.

The first episode aired in November of 2012 titled “Sunny & Jamison”. Sunny, a gorgeous 21 year old student at the University of Arkansas, emailed Nev about her situation with a perfect man: model, TV cue card writer, and hopeful anesthesiologist. Not to mention Jamison was an attractive man, or so his pictures showed. Sunny met Jamison online eight months prior to the recording of the episode. Nev called Sunny and met up with her face to face in order to get all details about the relationship. The two had met online on Facebook, but something always came up at the last minute when they tried to meet in person. Nev called Jamison to ask for an introduction, and then Nev did some researching. There was an interview with a man named Jamison King in which he mentioned his three sisters. Sunny had heard from Jamison that his three sisters died in a car accident, so there were facts that did not match up. Before Sunny left to meet Jamison, her sister dropped by and the two got into an argument. The sister explained how she was hoping to get into a relationship with Jamison before Sunny swooped in and stole him away. The sister was upset, and Nev did not want to interrupt. In the end, Sunny got in the car to go meet the man of her dreams. Upon arriving at the address, a girl opened the door. She appeared to be a tomboy wearing casual clothes, and she introduced herself as Chelsea. She told Nev and Sunny that she had been pretending to be Jamison on Facebook for four years. Chelsea created Jamison out of anger because she was being bullied and wanted to get revenge on her mean classmates. Sunny was astonished and humiliated. At first, Chelsea showed no remorse or shame in what she had done. The crew and Sunny left to catch their breath and cool down from the unexpected events. They all returned the next day, and Chelsea had face-to-face conversations with both Nev and Sunny. Nev talked to her about how difficult it was to be bullied in high school and contributing factors to the current situation. Chelsea admitted to being bisexual

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and having feelings for Sunny. She also eventually apologized for what she had done, but Sunny was clearly upset even after a few days. The two came to a forced reconciliation and decided to still be friends. At the end of the episode, Nev Skyped with Sunny and asked how things were going for her. She was taking a break from relation- -ships at the time, and she had moved on. Nev introduced the real Jamison, the one from the pictures, to Sunny on Skype as well. It seemed to be a strange encounter.

Without the help of this show, Sunny and Jamison could have continued to talk and fall in love without ever meeting. Nev served as the bridge connecting the suspiciousness of a purely online relationship to the security of actually knowing a person face to face. In other episodes, common causes of the catfishing include low self-esteem, weight problems, transgender possibilities, revenge, and anonymity. Out of the eleven episodes, only one couple stayed together after the airing.

When first introduced to online dating, people assure

themselves how well it has worked for others in the past and drown themselves in success stories from Facebook. They continue to believe relationships can automatically form after reading about one person who seems to be Mr. or Mrs. Right. However, people must be aware of the possible ramifications of online dating. They need to do a little research before committing themselves to a person whom they have never met in person. It would not hurt to Google someone’s name and see what pops up. If that person is wanted dead or alive and has committed four murders, dating him or her is not the best idea. With over fifty-four million singles in the United States and the evolution of the Internet; online dating has become a major factor in how people begin relationships. With about forty million users, online dating has become the most popular way to meet new people. There are many dating site options available today. There are the  

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more popular ones such as Eharmony, match.com, Tinder for the Iphone, Christian Mingle, and many more. Some are open to all of the general public and other websites are more specified to certain groups such as Black Single Meet. There are millions of users on sites such as these. All the sites have their similarities and their differences. Many require all users to fill out an array, 5-200 questions, of different kinds of topics that range from career path to favorite color. The questions are a pre-interview and only give hard black and white facts about a person. The answers to the questions assist in matching a user to other singles through a math algorithm designed to match based on compatibility, similar interests, likes, and dislikes. However, some dating apps, such as Tinder, match people based on just pictures. Most of the time the pictures come from Facebook and Twitter. These apps will sync with other social networking sites and use the pictures provided by the user. A person then clicks a hot or not button and then if the other person clicks the hot button back, the two are then matched. Every website has a different method of matching people. Some services are free and others cost money. Also, people now use sites such as Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace to “online date”. These are not as affective as dating websites, but relationships do sometimes occur from other social networking means. This can cause dangers however. There have been many reports of rape, murder, identity theft, and several other reports. Many men and some women will use online dating sites and social networking sites to meet people, and then when they see them in person, they will either do bad, harmful things to the people or commit murder. These dangers are prominent everywhere not just online. However, there has been an increase in reported cases that internet meeting scares many people and also makes people not want to use the internet with all the cyber footprint scares. Statistics say that one in ten sex offenders uses online dating/social networking sites to meet people. Also, there are the problems with identity theft. With people putting so much of their lives on the Internet along with all of their info; it is very easy for someone to steal an identity with just the click of a  

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button. Another problem that occurs pertains to cyber bullying/harassment. Due to these two issues, there have been many deaths due to suicide, psychological issues that need to be treated with therapy, and termination of relationships. Those relationships could be with a friend, boyfriends, or a termination of a job that can occur from rumors or for example, a post on someone’s wall bashing the company that person works for. There are many positives to online dating though. There have been successful relationships, one of which is Rachel McManus’ uncle who has met one of the nicest ladies and become a mentor/father figure to her son. They are happily married and get along very well; they met through Eharmony.

There are more lasting relationships through online dating than any other methods or means of meeting at this current time. Only twenty-five years ago, most people married their high school sweethearts and fell in love early. In the twenty first century, getting married right out of high school is frowned upon or considered unusual. One must now complete college and obtain a job and be secure to begin to think about getting engaged/married. As the chart shows there has been a seventeen percent success rate from online dating relationships that have ended in marriage and they also have the lowest divorce rate after marriage. Considering today’s marital rate success these percentages are very high. Divorce has now become a more socially acceptable option to solve problems unlike three decades ago where divorce was something that was never an option in any marriage, people learned to work through their differences instead of running away from them.

As technology evolves, many of other problems evolve with them, but another problem with online dating is the lack of personal communication one experiences with the person they see as their potential partner. Compared to regular dating such as meeting through mutual friends, or meeting in a bar. While meeting regularly one must ask questions to get to know the other

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person and engage in more conversation; while in online dating all the information one needs to know to get the basics can be easily read, just like reading a book. Many of children born 2002 and younger have parents that met through means of the regular dating method. That could be meeting through bars, mutual friends, work, and the best, high school or college sweethearts. However, there are positives to online dating. I have heard of stories where people met their now best friends, or obtained a job opportunity just because of the networking from the initial meeting. Also, the happiness occurs when a user finds Mr. Right. Many have come to accept the online dating scene as a perfect and preferable way to meet new people, which it is.

There are opinions that see online dating as weird and only desperate people use those websites; but some people just are not very good with initiating a meeting and need assistance. Dating websites will help a person through the first step and it can lead in either another date, friendship, or a I will never see you again. Colleges are now even using online meetings to establish roommates. Online dating is now the new “in” thing when it comes to relationships. It has surpassed all other ways of meeting people and its effectiveness keeps people wanting to use it. After all, numbers do not lie.

Works Cited

"Catfish: The TV Show Main." Catfish: The TV Show. N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Feb. 2013.

"Catfish Movie Official Site - IamROGUE.com." Catfish Movie Official Site – IamROGUE.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Feb. 2013.

"Manti Te'o's 'Catfish' Story Is a Common One." USA Today.Gannett, n.d. Web. 28 Feb. 2013.

Marinova, Polina. "The Upside of Online Dating: There’s Always a Funny Story to Tell." CNN. Cable News Network, 12 Feb. 2013. Web. 28 Feb. 2013.

"Online Dating Horror Stories." ABC News. ABC News Network, 13 Feb. 2008. Web. 28 Feb. 2013.

"Online Dating Statistics." Statistic Brain RSS. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Feb. 2013. 43

We Are All Stardust

Anna Paige Padilla ’13

I’m willing to wager There are more stars in the sky

Than people on the planet

And yet people assume that because

Our race is so bountiful That our stories—

Our lives— Our pains—

Our triumphs— Our laughs—

And our tears— …are meaningless

But if one person sees a star in the

sky… Only one person

Sees that star And can appreciate its existence….

Well…I think that speaks to the

beauty of both.

Sun Mr. Corey Johnson

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Helium stays afloat to escape reckless company, Whose careless grip infringes upon the element’s home.

Some mean no harm but by their ignorance do; Others maliciously aim their needles at sensitive targets.

When the gas discovers an intruder within its household, Fear overcomes the senses, and helium loses its nobility.

Panic ensues as it scrambles to avoid judgment, But in its alarm, the molecules surrender control.

They flee in all directions until nothing but the shell remains,

Dilapidated and limp on the ground over which it once dwelled. Hands modeled for war clasp balloons instead of guns,

And party decorations inhabit funerals.  

Handle With Care Franklin Co ‘13

Shattering Glass Andrew Hawkins ‘13

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John Proctor: The Man – The (Mono)Myth Philip Dryden ‘14

John Proctor, the protagonist of Arthur Miller’s play The Crucible and historical occupant of Salem village in 1692, exhibits in his actions and words qualities characteristic of both the tragic and the epic hero. Specifically, his death at the hands of the Salem courts for supposed witchcraft fairly obviously points to his tragic and flawed nature, but also draws parallels to the story of Christ, an epic figure. Based on Joseph Campbell’s model of the hero and the journey he takes, Proctor functions as a heroic character in The Crucible from the beginning, though his identity as a tragic or epic hero remains obscure. As the story continues, Proctor fails to stand up to persecution of the courts and dies, which demonstrates, at least in one sense, his tragic qualities. Finally, the fact that John Proctor lived both as an actual person and a character creates an almost metaphysical situation in which he as a character completes the heroic action of his historical counterpart, making him epic. Arthur Miller’s use of the personality of John Proctor in his play The Crucible completes the Campbellian cycle of the hero’s journey and reincarnates his real person and gives him transcendental qualities that, although he still may die each time the drama is preformed, make him a figuratively immortal figure who continuously delivers a heroic message to society, most specifically the 1950s anti-Communist fanatic America.

John Proctor, as a hero, experiences an initial impetus – a call to adventure – that drives him out of his comfortable life as a resident of Salem towards the perils of the court system and finally execution for witchcraft. Proctor, like most heroes, does not desire to enter the unknown world of adventure, but rather has the (sometimes very preferable) choice to remain an ordinary person rather than embark on a perilous ideological quest. First, Reverend Hale, who specializes in detecting witches, foreshadows  

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the coming turmoil in the community, especially since he has experience in the prosecution of conjuring, having “found a witch in Beverly last year” (Miller 917). The series of events that follow Hale’s appearance occur not as a coincidence; rather they are a direct result of his investigation, which focuses on—instead of determining whether or not the Devil is at work in Salem as an objective inquiry should—flushing out the assumed witches from the village. Similarly, Joseph Campbell, the authority on comparative mythology, identifies in his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces the archetypal character who “As a preliminary manifestation of the powers that are breaking into play…can be termed the ‘herald’; the crisis of his appearance is the ‘call to adventure.’” (Campbell 56). Reverend Hale, who entered the dramatic action both because of the village’s predicament and to mark its beginning, heralds the coming drama and ultimately summon Proctor to take a stand against the courts in the defense of justice and truth. As Proctor confronts the issue of witchcraft and the government of his community in general, particularly with respects to Reverend Parris’s leadership, he expresses an intense desire to break ties and leave the village to its fate, saying “I must find it [a faction] and join it… I like not the smell of this ‘Authority’” (Miller 926). Proctor’s expressed wish to abandon his civic identity as a member of the Salem reflects a refusal of the call to adventure, which is really a call to seek healing and restoration for a damaged community, because of his own personal motivations and grievances against Parris. Furthermore, Campbell explains that, because the hero is motivated primarily by his obligations to others rather than himself, “The refusal is essentially a refusal to give up what one takes to be one's own interest” (Campbell 60). Because dramatic action continues past Proctor’s initial refusal to enter the realm of adventure and danger—in this case the court system—he clearly makes the choice to put his personal ego aside in service of a higher causes, characteristic of Campbell’s archetypal hero. Finally, when Cheever comes with a warrant to arrest his wife Elizabeth, Proctor takes the final step  

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towards his ordeal and execution when he rips the warrant and has the following dialogue with Cheever:

PROCTOR: [Ripping the warrant] Out with you CHEEVER: You’ve ripped the Deputy Governor’s warrant, man! PROCTOR: Damn the Deputy Governor! Out of my house! (Miller 953)

His refusal to submit to the corrupt authority of the law and his active obstruction of its actions by destroying of the warrant and ordering Cheever out of his house can have no other consequence except that he will invariably and ultimately face the courts (one does not simply destroy a warrant in front of the officer who served it) in opposition of the evil forces that have invaded his community (his home) and thus begin his journey as a hero.  

Hamlet at the Double-Edged Sword of Reason Renick Hall ‘13

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Proctor, who has thus far fulfilled the definition of a hero, now enters the stage in the hero’s cycle where grievous and difficult trials (in his case literally) confront him to test his strength, resolve, and worthiness to be the community’s guardian-hero. His failing or passing of the tests determines his status as an epic hero (who survives the ordeal) or a tragic hero (who succumbs to death and defeat). First, before actually entering the Salem courts, John faces Reverend Hale’s demand that he recite the Ten Commandments and becomes “Lost… flailing for…” the one commandment he cannot remember, which is the law against adultery (Miller 947). This oversight of Proctor’s, which is ironic because he had committed adultery with Abigail some time before the setting of the play, demonstrates a character flaw, indicating his own nature as a tragic and inability to redeem his community, at least without redeeming himself first. Joseph Campbell describes the series of tests the hero endures on the journey, saying “Once having traversed the threshold, the hero moves in a dream landscape of curiously fluid, ambiguous forms, where he must survive a succession of trials” (Campbell 81). Even the title of the play seems consistent with Campbell’s explanation of this point in the story, for the word “crucible” refers to a harsh, exacting test or trial—the very definition of what John Proctor experiences. Next, the hero-in-progress Proctor brings Mary Warren before the courts so that she could withdrawal the evidence she presented previously against the accused witches of the town, but during the bizarre course of the proceedings, she turns on him and says to him, “You’re the Devil’s man!” accusing him of witchcraft (Miller 976). A hero, whose purpose is the safeguarding or purification of his society, never experiences a more perilous and defeating obstacle in his journey than becoming the enemy of the community which he endeavors to save. It is important to note at this point that Miller did not himself create the character and personality of John Proctor, who actually lived, was accused of witchcraft, and wrote:

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The innocency of our case with the enmity of our accusers and our judges and jury, whom nothing but our innocent blood will serve their turn, having   condemned us already before our trials, being so much incensed and engaged against us by the devil, makes us bod to beg and implore your favorable assistance… (Hill 77)

As demonstrated by this excerpt from his historical appeal for external help, the real-life Proctor did not demonstrate the same fierce personal determination that his theatrical counterpart has in the play, and instead relied upon outside assistance where his own competence fails him, which is a quality that makes his historic figure—in addition to the literary version—tragic. Ultimately, John Proctor, having fought the decision of the courts, dies by hanging at the order of Judge Danforth, who, in reference to Proctor and other prisoners, says, “Hang them high over the town! Who weeps for these, weeps for corruption!” (Miller 995). That Proctor (at least his dramatic character), who sought to defend the community from senseless violence and witchcraft hysteria, falls victim to the evil that he fought and dies indicates his nature as the tragic hero who could not survive the tests – the crucible – and save his community.

Arthur Miller’s presentation and use of John Proctor’s personality in “The Crucible” acts as a reincarnation of the real Salem martyr who experienced the same series of events – complete with trial, conviction, and execution – and brings the spirit of John Proctor beyond traditional stopping point of death to the modern audience so that it may deliver the message that could not be heard in 1692. Although taken individually, both the Proctor of The Crucible and of the past fail to achieve the epic status that this entails, their combined identity overcomes the tragedy of death itself. John, as a character, undergoes the greatest of his ordeals during the period in which Judge Danforth tries to get him to confess to witchcraft and save his life, and this is evident in the following dialogue:

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PROCTOR: I mean to deny nothing! DANFORTH: Then explain to me, Mr. Proctor, why you will not let – PROCTOR: [With a cry of his whole soul.] Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name! (Miller 993)

Theater-Proctor here undergoes a heated interrogation – the mythical third-degree of police dramas – which evokes an alternate definition of “crucible” (a tool used to melt metals or ores in) suggesting that the events purify and purge the character, who exists as a real person as well, of his flaws and desire to live in order that he might become  the epic hero. Edward Quinn defines the word tragedy and gives insight into its relevance to The Crucible, saying, “The word tragedy means ‘goat song’ and is thought to refer to an early ritual involving the sacrifice of a goat. From this perspective the tragic hero can be seen as a scapegoat figure, a sacrificial victim whose death redeems the community” (Quinn 1). John Proctor, who demonstrates clear tragic qualities as both a historical person and a theatrical character, derives a new meaning when taken in light of this definition draws parallels between his life which was forfeit because he would not abandon his village and the death of Christ, who certainly demonstrated epic rather than tragic qualities in his redemption of mankind, for others’ sins. After theatric-Proctor has been taken to be hanged because of his refusal to confess, his wife Elizabeth refuses to plead with him to save his life, and says in justification, “He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!” (Miller 995). John Proctor, who has passed through the real Salem witch courts, death itself, and purification-in-print, now achieves the status of an epic hero, the perfect man who may mend society’s vices through his actions, even though his life may  

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end. Indeed, Joseph Campbell explains that the death of the hero gives him the capacity to do this, for “The hero whose attachment to ego is already annihilate passes back and forth across the horizons of the world, in and out of the dragon, as readily as a king through all the rooms of his house. And therein lies his power to save; for his passing and returning demonstrate that…there is nothing to fear” (Campbell 79-80). No longer a mortal man restrained by death, the  Proctor reborn as a literary character has the ability to die in the name of his own integrity again and again before a live audience or a reader of the script, delivering his redeeming message to the world. Almost immediately before he is executed, John tells Elizabeth how she must face the relentless corruption and determined destruction of the Salem courts, saying, “Give them no tear! Tears pleasure them! Show honor  now, show a stony heart and sink them with it!” (Miller 995). Here

White Pages Danielle Harmon ‘15

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lies the message which he passed through death and the lines of theater script to deliver; a message that had no effect in his own world of Salem, but has come out of the past to provide insight into the modern world, most especially the McCarthy Communist hunts of the 1950s.

As the protagonist of Arthur Miller’s acclaimed play The Crucible, John Proctor displays qualities indicative of both a tragic hero and an epic hero. Based an initial analysis of the early action of the play, heroic aspects undoubtedly appear in reference to the character. As dramatic action progresses and Proctor undergoes a series of tests that end in his death, he takes on a distinctly tragic quality. However, Proctor does not exist simply as a character, but also as a historic person in seventeenth century Salem, Massachusetts, and this dual nature allows the personality to complete the cycle of the hero’s journey and become epic. By placing John Proctor, historic victim of the Salem witch-hunts, in the primary role of The Crucible, Arthur Miller creates a situation bordering on literary alchemy that completes the cycle of Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey by reincarnating the genuine Proctor—a tragic hero—as the protagonist of his play, thereby preventing him from perishing as he delivers a redeeming message to the world and transforming him into a transcendental, immortal epic hero.  

Works Cited Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, NJ:

Princeton UP, 1968. Web. 19 Apr. 2013. Hill, Frances. The Salem Witch Trials Reader. [Cambridge, Mass.]: Da

Capo, 2000. Print. Miller, Arthur. The Crucible. Glencoe Literature. The Reader's Choice.

New York, NY: Glencoe/McGraw Hill, 2002. 914-95. Print. Quinn, Edward. "Scapegoat." A Dictionary of Literary and Thematic

Terms. New York: Facts On File, 1999. Print.  

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J’amie Vu Anna Paige Padilla ‘13 When I first got my glasses the woman who helped me, told me that I should look at the trees when I left, because I would be so surprised they had leaves. And I thought that was so silly, because I knew trees had leaves…and then I walked outside and for the first time saw the leaves of a tree in focus, and it was so beautiful, because I could see each individual one, and for twenty minutes I sat and watched them dance in the breeze. I think that’s how love is. You think you know what it is until you feel it for the first time, and suddenly everything is different and you couldn’t be more happy you were wrong about everything.

Fall Tree Avery Gore ‘13

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Ode to a Daughter Michael Corsi ‘13

She takes her first breath of life and her beauty captures all attention of the room.

God has created a girl with eyes like newly mined sapphires. Her fingers curl, because it feels the coldness of air for the

first time in her life. I stare at her as she is warmed by the loving heart of her

mother in her arms. That same little girl is crying now, begging and pleading not

to be taken from her mother. She cries to the heavens that she does not have to start her

first day of preschool alone. Another woman holds onto my daughter as my wife and I

wave goodbye to her. I feel this feeling of happiness in my heart; that even if I am

apart from her, she is still with me. Now she worries about the stress of homework, grades, and

boys at school. Every day she comes home and seems to love the feeling of

picking fights with me. She tells me constantly that I don’t understand and things

were different when I was a kid. That same little girl who wanted my attention every day

blocks me out of her thoughts and life.

Letting Go Rachel Grinbergs ‘13 55

Her attitude changes, like a storm that has hovered over her for years has finally lifted.

She gets happy and excited of the thought of college and the atmosphere lightens.

That same little girl who cried on the first day of school is ready to enter the world alone.

She throws her hat in the air, and on the way home I feel a sadness take over me.

She packs her bags, ready to leave the home and family she

has grown up with her whole life. I enter her room and see the boxes of clothes and

decorations she has everywhere in her room. I give a hug, and as the tears start to roll down my cheeks

like raindrops I tell my daughter, “No matter where you are or what you do in this world, you

will always be my little girl”  

Horseback Riding Andrea Usuga ‘14

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How to Get Published in BL Scholar

If you are interested in being published in BL Scholar, please submit your work to Mr. Stuart Kantor at stuart.kantor@bishoplynch.org. Suggestions for submissions include paintings, photography, collages, photos of sculptures, rhetorical essays, research papers, poetry, prose, as well as any other work that you would like to showcase. Please include your name, class year, and the title of your piece.

BL Scholar Staff Coordinator: Mr. Stuart Kantor Editor: Ariel McDonnell ’13 and Jennifer Dorn ‘14 Layout Editors: Lily Sooter ’13, Anna Paige Padilla ’13, and Hana Kurihara ‘14

Capture Ariel McDonnell ‘13

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