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The AndreanFall 1992

The AndreanEditors

Lana AbrahamMolly HigginsFritz McCallTarmla Small

Faculty Advisor

Kathryn Blenkinsop

Layout Staff

Wanda KraikitHolly MillerAli PapsonWill Porter

We would like to thank Donna Speers for her help with the layout.

She carved thee for her seal, and meant therebyThou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

—William Shakespeare, Sonnet 11

Andrean Staff

Rob BannermanLaura BarnesDesi BlissJenn BourneAlyssa BowersCatherine BraswellKeri BrennerRachel BurnetteJen CheekRemmington CurtisAlexis DeLeeHalimah DelaineKip DiggesWilson EverhartMandy FischerJon FrankUnique FraserEmmy GrinwisGreg GourdetShelley HaleyKearney HarringtonJill KindleCaroline HoogenboomCarl HudigRoland HughesNate JenkinsKatherine KeltnerAnne KellerWanda KraikitAmanda LeyonLeigh McCandlessCharlie MeyerHolly MillerJohn MorganMary Nicklin

Alex Nuti de BiasiLisa OlsenKatie PaddenAli PapsonEmily PerryMackenzie PitcairnWhit PilsonAndrew PipesWill PorterGinna PurringtonJames ReeveLiz W. ReynoldsUlla RickertStanley RobertsRachel RuaneShanna SamarasingheKelly SchimmelDominic SeiterleJane ShafferJane ShepherdGrant S humanDavid SmithAnna StandoffMatt SurlesKrisTaftDionne ThomasLuke ThompsonJocelyn TorioOliver TurnerAbi WhiteClaudine WileyHeidi WilliamsCarolyn WirthLiz WoodAldora Wun

Table of Contents

Small Black Box by Rachel RuaneInk Drawing by Bullets CampbellPrint by Rachel RuaneShe is Me by Lanore SmithShort Story by Emmy GrinwisInk Drawing by Jenn BourneVictory AnonymousInk Wash by Molly HigginsStruggle by Jill HindleCharcoal Drawing by Molly HigginsPhotograph by Megan HendersonNow and Then by Mike PignatelloPerspectives, A Song by Meg MusserDrawing by Emmy GrinwisLight by Matt SurlesInk Wash by Jenn BourneBurn ing Sensation by Amanda LeyonDrawing by Lana AbrahamDrawing and Poem by Molly HigginsTen AnonymousCharcoal Drawing by Andrew PipesLife by Wanda KraikitWeakness by Wanda KraikitCharcoal Drawing by Holly DunlapGrown-ups? by Meg MusserOil Painting by Fritz McCallA Million Reasons to Kill by Bullets CampbellDrawing by Lana AbrahamOde to Stella Adler by Holly MillerPhotograph by Wanda KraikitCharcoal Drawing by Holly DunlapRelaxation AnonymousWith Such Poor Words by Adrian KeevilDrawing by Emmy GrinwisTalent by Caroline HoogenboomCharcoal Drawing by Jenn BournePolka-dotted Tie by Mandy FischerInk Wash by Fritz McCallAdam and Eve by Lana AbrahamCharcoal Drawing by Fritz McCallOur Future by Matt Surles

The front cover is a print by Desi Bliss.

pagelpagelpage 2page 3page 4—5pageSpage 6page 6page?page?page 8page 9page 10—11page 10—11page 12page 12page 13page 13page 14—15page 16page 17page 18page 19page 19page 20page 20page 21page 21page 22page 22page 23page 23page 24—25page 24—25page 26page 26page 27page 27page 28—29page 30inside back cover

SmaU Black Box

Snow covered screen screams loss of communication,Black, burning bodies seethe anger and irritation.

Sirens screeching silently find the night, stillCreeping through the windows,Swimming in the spill

Gathering possessionsfleeing like a ghostbrandishing a weapona chilling act of force

Cameras flash and collidein flames twirling, spinningaround molten flesh and bones

eyes stream angry wordsthat no one seems to hear

shadows move togetherblurry swaying andsweating bloodas it pumps with a furyColoring the page

Someone turns the channelto return to the easy act offalling snow gliding down the

glass.

She is Me

She sat alone,always alone in the darkThoughts about the lightof day filled her wonderousmind.

Not wanting light,just the friendliness of the dark.I realize that She is Me.A lover for the comfort of the

darkness.

Only sounds, the soft touch ofmusical notes.

Maybe even whispers about life and love,or joy and pain.

She sat alone, I sat alonealways alone inthe darkness.

She watched as the sea slowly crept up to her toes, covered them for a moment,and then retreated back into the vast collection of waves, fish, and plants. The saltstung in the places where she had cut her feet climbing over the barbed wire to get tothe beach. But it was good pain. Recently she had begun to relish anything thatmight cause a little pain. Her life was so devoid of feeling that anything, pain, feltgood. It made her feel alive.

She thrived on the feel of the suction, luring her toes into the ocean, but wasstartled out of her trance when a yell for help broke the calm. She glared into theexpanse of green and blue, her hand acting as a visor to protect her eyes against thesun. Eyes, very fast and mechanical, gliding over the rolling humps. Way, way out,so she could hardly see, she saw a man stranded in what appeared to be a brokendown motor boat, waving his arms at her. "My boat's busted!" he yelled.

She began to strip to her underwear, she was planning to swim out there, shedidn't know what she'd do once she got there, though. Maybe fix his boat. Then heyelled, "Get help, a shark..." she couldn't hear the rest She finished stripping. Shespread her arms wide, as if she were embracing the Sea God, and inhaled thewonderful, salty air. She then plunged into the crashing surf. When she surfaced,she heard the man making a big fuss. "What are you doing, are you crazy...shark..."

Her body sliced through the water like a bullet aimed at the chest of good. As sheswam she felt the fish and the plants below her; she felt as if they beckoned her tothem. Even with her eyes closed she could see the swarms of fish below her. Shecould see the plants, shrouded in brilliant color, unseen by the human eye, anddimmed by the murky water.

It was a long distance to the motor boat, but she knew she was getting closerbecause the frantic yelps of the man got louder and more panicked. When her earsbobbed infrequently out of the water, she heard snatches of what the man wasscreaming. She heard "shark" and "fool" but she continued to swim.

She was very close now because she felt the shark next to her. She reached onehand out and felt the smooth bone of the teeth, she ran her fingers up to where theybecame a sharp and deadly point. She felt the strength of the jaw, a jaw that wouldnever dare taste her flesh or clamp down on her frail body.

Suddenly she heard a splash a little ways off and she halted instantly. She sawthe man's hand in front of her, reaching for her face. She felt the shark next to hertense every muscle and streak forward. There was somewhat of an explosion andblood spurted everywhere. She heard a gurgled yelp for help that was instantlysilenced and hung in the air with the stench of death.

She was no longer swimming through water, but blood, that filled every pore ofher body; it was in her eyes, nostrils and fingernails. She heard the powerful jawcrush the man's bones and she squeezed skin and thick intestine in her hands. Shefelt the shark's frantic jerks, and the tail sometimes hit her and hurt.

She swam calmly to the boat and climbed inside. She watched as the shark rippedapart the man's bones. She watched as the shark dragged his prize down into thedepths of the ocean. And still, as time passed slowly, she watched, as if in a trance,the blood dilute and turn a muggy red and then disappear.

Hours later, maybe even the next day, she sat gazing into the water, toes danglinglazily in the ocean. The small boat was slowly drifting out to sea, but she wasn'tworried because she could still see the land on the horizon. She couldn't swim backbecause the swimming drained her. And anyway, she knew the big boat would comealong soon enough.

And when the big boat finally did come, filled with rich people, she waved herarms and jumped around and acted hysterical. She screamed, "A shark killed him!"over and over. And all the people felt sorry for her, and as they led her into the bigboat, her eyes searched the depths of the sea, to wink at her friend, the shark.

Victory

A dark spot in a pool of gentle brown leads me forward.I follow it to the solace within,that which I can only strive for.Atop my lofty perch my mother cools me,while her warmth soothes my emotion-torn soul.A perfect peace, until the roar of masculinity is heard.Around the corner it barrels,carrying with it all its past sins and wrongdoings,which I so desperately strive against

Struggle

In a mindTrouble behind a magnifying glasswarped — bulging. AcutelyIntensified, detailedPain.Never kindly proportionateIt slices you.Prying you — open. YouScream. Silently

But when made into wordsThings flatten.And the shrinking earsListen — tragedyLoses density; limp balloonEmpty and stale with no textureOr depthOr purposeFor crying outLoudTo themYou grip things tightlyIn quiet rooms — and you find yourselfpunching a wall, or runningAway to Someplace

where the trees will listen.

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Now and Then

Now and then there are some who would say,That my life is just wasting away.

So I kick them and screamand say, "Why does it seem

That your life is so stagnant today?"

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I sit aloneIn darkness.I sit there,Waiting,Wondering.I am waiting for a light to come on,And wondering who will turn it on.I want to see this personWho has turned on many lights.I sit quietly.I wait.I begin to hearFootsteps.They are coming towards me—Little me.A light is turned on.I sit for a minute,Stunned by the brilliant light.Then I begin to rejoice in the name ofHe who has turned the light onIn my dark soul.

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The burning sensation in my chestThe laughter building upon the edges of my mouthAnd the confused happiness in my headdoesn't take away the painand uncertaintyIt doesn'tbring me closerto what?i'm looking forIt takes my thoughtsand my wordsand it twists themMaking me believein what?i can't find in reality

13

Ten

Like Martin Luther, we pin our complaints.We all suffer through emotional, mental, and moral pain.This massive destructive force which you do not respectstresses the seams which hold our sanity together.Some of us are blind from the light,perhaps you can comprehend the brilliance.For those of us left in the dark,offer your helping hand.

Please do not think of us as insolent.We appreciate your pain and your suffering.We even make attempts at mollification.This is not a note of disrespect but of aid.We want to end your ignorance.Our community is far from a Utopia,and we are far from euphoric.

We have your paternal influence.Still, we need feminine engagementThis might be a normality of life,one which you do not understand.You may think us rude for requesting more.Be we are not Oliver Twist; we're your children.And we're waiting for our freedom.

16

17

is a Rubik s cube,confusing and frustratingimpossible to winuntil you peel off all the stickersand rearrange them the right way.

Weakness

To overcome my fear, I mustface itchallenge itThe true test of couragebefore meThe hurdle for me to overcomeFace to face with mycowardice, I begin my preparations.At last I shall win this warwith my trepidationsAt last to experience the exhilarationI focus my thoughts on the upcoming batdeConcentrationI empty my mindI begin, slowly asserting my purposesteadily striving for my goalthe end in sight and nearand nearer still and coming closeI reach andcollapsefrom panic and fearThe battle waged and I, the defeated,I drop it on the tablestill feeling the pressure of the barrelupon my forehead, Ilean back in my chair and curse myWeakness

20

Grown—ups?

Hello, goodbyeI wonder whyIt happened as it did.A senseless vow,I realize nowThe secrets that it hid.Not give and take,So much at stakeWhile accusations flew—I watched in pain,It take its claimIn time, from it I grew.Reflecting back,The blind attackOf anger, hate, denial—She stood her ground,Her instincts soundAnd he remained a child

A million reasons to killProblem solved, no mess, no connectionWhere there's a want, there's a milDon't break down, make no reflection

Drive it out of your mindIt really wasn't you who did itHe wasn't one of our kindIt's that blood thirsty crip

He's dead, one shot, one killWe got the money but do we have the conscience

A million problems solvedA million to kill, with the nine mil.

21

Ode to Stella Adler

My roommate walks injust as I am threadingan imaginary needle.My concentration is broken.I scream at herin pretend angerwhile I practicemy German lisp.Infuriated,she grabs the invisible needleand thrusts itinto my eye,causing me to howllike Allan Ginsberg.As I run,dramatically weeping,out of the room,I stop to brushimaginary mudoff my shoeand wonder whyI still can't act.

Relaxation

Wrecking river (roaring rumble)troubles Trouble's troubling trouble.Carrying carloads (crumbling crack)it's too much weight forone Sole back.

With such poor wordsi could never aspire totell my feelings aboutLife.Sometimes i look at Herand see excitement warmingthe room.Sometimes a quick glancecauses me toThink.The refrain of my hymn:

Am i good, am i bad?Is it something They wish i had?

Then i reflect and laughfor i look stupidin thought.

what is this feeling?What am i missing?EmptinessIs too extreme.besides,i have just eaten dinner(and dessert).Boredom is curableand this i have triedPlus,iHaveNoTime.

24

I

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my thoughts may bemy trouble.i Shouldleave thingsalone."since feeling is firstwho pays any attentionto the syntax of thingswill never wholly kiss you;wholly to be a foolwhile spring is in the world"i agree, Sir,kisses are a better fatethan wisdom.

i Could embrace life(if She should have me).To press my needy lipsto her full smilewould i give everything.

Red lips aremy cureand yet i think Hers aremy infirmity.

25

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Talent

Talent is a relentless butterflyWith sinking wings andLusty Scare-EyesBeautiful to WatchBut hard to wake up to.

26

IPolka-dotted Tie

;;Music

of lion flowersand polka-dotted wallpaper

pealing from the edges of mytattered heart

like a shoreless oceant, green with envy

content in my own journey., content with you

content with moonlight at eveningand sun at morning

of waltzesand dresses with lion flowers

and a tie to match my dressyou wear

you funny young manWith my heart pinned on your blazer

Matching the polka-dotsof your tie,

(.lion-hearted flower dresspgan the wind

with my hairand in the breeze

with yourbashful smile

j§yes like a shoreless ocean:hate.

27

28

29

30

Our Future

Dreamers.Aspirations of our minds.What we are,could be,were,and what we will never be.Thinking.Mental exercises.Minds adorned with memories,abilities,thoughts, and"Mental Jewelry."Tomorrow we will bewhat our minds wish.Maybe.Possibly.Limited only by whatOur minds can create.