October 21, 2013 • A POSITIVE PRESS PUBLICATION • VOL. 4, ISSUE 4
Life Doesn't Wait for You
written by third-year, Cecilia Moore
The intersection of north, south, east and west main street are the convergence of my limbs into my chest– and the courthouse that sits at this intersection, where my grandfather practiced law for over fifty years, is my heart. The ice cream cones from the drug store just down the street, which my mom and her three siblings and my sister and I grew up on, thirty years later, are a part of my genetic code.
I was raised in Statesboro, and my mother and grandfather were both brought into this microcosm only a mile from my present-day home. Everything here from the magnolia leaves to the wind that stirs them is a part of me. My city doesn’t know this though. The “Welcome to Statesboro” sign wasn’t told that to change from aged wood to a shiny plastic replacement would confuse my memories and my sense of self. “I wasn’t gone long, the world stole me away, but I’m back if just for a day!” I cry out when I find a rare chance to drive back. My hometown, which was a springboard into my grown-up life, responds to my frantic thoughts: “My love, you can still smell, taste, and touch me when you return. Get married under my steeple and buried beneath my earth. But notice this honey, you left me. You’ve been swept into the waters of life and have left this small town behind.” |
Decades from now I’ll return to Statesboro for good, and end my journey next to the generations of my family that have come before me. But for now, I must go on. Before I was a part of the rock that was my town, but now I’m a little piece that is chipped off of it, and I’m ready to be scattered to some other part of the world that could use a little Georgia clay.
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Back and Forth
written by second-year, Alexsis Skeen
It’s been a while since we last spent time together. I hope we can sit with each other soon, just sit and enjoy each other’s company.
I remember when your mom first brought you home from the hospital and when she used to read to you each night before bed once you got older. I can still vividly remember your high school prom. How you were scared to death because you had never been on a date before. I thought of your wedding and how we had the reception here at the house. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful. While you anxiously stayed up for your children to get home, I was there with you. Most recently, I can see you reading to your grandchildren every now and again when you are up for it. |
Your favorite snack is cashews. You love to munch on them as you watch TV late at night with Jack. Sometimes, I think you spill more than you actually eat as cashew particles fell into cracks and crevices that lead to nowhere. I remember the sweet aroma from your famous apple and pecan pies, the soft sound of snowflakes hitting the roof on Christmas Eve as you carefully place the presents under the tree and nibble on the cookies left for Santa.
I make you think of home, your childhood, and your own children. I have the ability to calm your nerves and allow you to relax. Over the years, you’ve found comfort in my instability. Like a pendulum, I sway back and |
forth, coming close to the edge without ever
reaching it. Somehow, there is a driving force always pushing me back. Although I have little stability, you find hope in the consistency that I will always return to a centered state. For now, I wait. I wait for my pendulum to begin again. I wait for the left-to-right, side-to-side motion that creates your comfort. I eagerly await being the pendulum that will keep moving, keep shifting back and forth, rocking you to sleep. Come, sit with me one last time. Yours truly, The Rocking Chair |
Punches and A Pink Jeep
written by by second-year, Erik Wien
I looked upon the landscape, hundreds of thousands of years old, so large I could only feel like a grain of dirt. The auburn glow of the sun caresses this masterpiece created by the endless pounding of a relentless river and a sprinkle of magic like a fire’s first embrace after a harsh winter night. Groggy from an annoying alarm and an hour drive, I could sense the majestic grandeur of the scenery that lay before me. The still power of the silence was wrought from the echoes that are lost far down below.
“It’s just a bunch of rocks.” The silence was suddenly shattered by my less than happy little brother. He was obviously feeling less than inspired by the giant gorge my family and I traveled so far to see. “Not everyone gets to see the Grand Canyon,” my dad said in his attempt to prevent any further complaints. “It’s beautiful; just try to enjoy it.” That pretty much set the tone for the trip. My mom and dad, being of an age to appreciate such things, stopped at every chance to observe and take pictures of the massive |
formation of rocks across the state. My brothers and I, being of an age to want to watch TV and play videogames, were less than impressed by all of the surprise family photos. Looking back, I appreciate the entire trip and what my parents tried to get us to see, but there was one part of the trip that I still remember.
We were staying in Sedona and my parents had planned for us to take something called a Pink Jeep Tour. They assured us it would be fun, and since we didn’t have to wake up at the break of dawn as we did the rest of the trip, we were happy. They went over all the administrative mumbo jumbo before they led us to a roofless pink Jeep. We left the paved |
roads, using the oversized, treaded tires for their purpose. The driver slowly drove around the dusty rocks, pointing out important structures or mentioning semi-interesting facts. Finally, he stopped to ask us if “we were ready to rock it?”
We were staying in Sedona and my parents had planned for us to take something called a Pink Jeep Tour. They assured us it would be fun, and since we didn’t have to wake up at the break of dawn as we did the rest of the trip, we were happy. They went over all the administrative mumbo jumbo before they led us to a roofless pink Jeep. We left the paved roads, using the oversized, treaded tires for their purpose. The driver slowly drove around the dusty rocks, pointing out important structures or mentioning semi-interesting facts. Finally, he stopped to ask us if “we were ready to rock it?” Kicking it into a higher gear, the Jeep took off over the uneven surface. I looked at my little brother who was strapped in next to me. We both knew that we were in for a good time. The jeep jumped, rocked, and |
jerked us until we were silly. Had we not been strapped in, I would have been thrown from the car in the first minute. The rocks, the bushes, and the sky seemed to move left, right, up, down. We were being jerked so hard that, unless we tried not to, our arms flew into each other’s faces, getting in some brotherly hits, so of course we didn’t restrain ourselves. I think my brother might have made a fist or two on purpose at times. I sat there laughing so hard I was surprised I could breathe, arms flailing dangerously, hitting mainly my younger brother, completely unaware of where the jeep was taking us– and frankly it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t say how long the tour lasted, but I can say for sure that I have never, in the ten or so years since, laughed that hard. It was a great trip and a wonderful memory. My parents showed me that you really can have fun with just a bunch of rocks. |
Athens Music History 101
written second- year, Carly Moskowitz
Ask any UGA student about the music scene in Athens, and you're likely to receive an enthusiastic response marked with Athens-specific buzzwords: “the 40 Watt,” “Reptar,” or “the Georgia Theatre.” Legendary bands have even made their beginnings right here in Athens, including The B-52s, Widespread Panic, R.E.M, and Pylon. Although it is difficult to imagine, many of these bands were started by typical students at the University.
R.E.M, for example, got together after singer Michael Stipe and guitarist Peter Buck met each other at Wuxtry Records downtown in 1980. The future bandmates realized they had similar tastes in music when Buck, a clerk at Wuxtry Records, noticed that Stipe happened to buy all the records that he already had his eye on. The pair met two other UGA students and decided to collaborate on some songs without any intention of making it big. The group quickly escalated to fame, recording their first single “Radio Free Europe” only a year later. |
A few years earlier, in 1976, a group of friends had a spontaneous, tipsy jam session. This fateful evening led to the birth of the B-52s. The band later released their infectious hit, “Love Shack,” the song responsible for forcing everyone to bust a move at weddings and bar mitzvahs.
Think living in a dorm is a useless experience? John Bell and Michael Houser, members of the popular band Widespread Panic, likely don't think so. The two met in their dorm while attending UGA in 1981. Not only did they become good friends and roommates, but they started a legendary rock band together. As a renowned hotbed of music, Athens blossoms with talent new and old. While living in this wonderful city, it is important to take the opportunity to explore the music scene. Discovering a band or an artist can be an incredibly rewarding experience; nothing is more exciting than knowing you attend the same university as the guy singing on stage. Who knows, maybe the next famous band member is sitting next to you at the MLC or running past you to catch an Orbit bus. |
Ode to My Test
written by second-year, Anjalie Subramanian
Good morning Test Day!
Yes, you are the day that we have all been dreading In fact, just to avoid waking up to you Many of us have not slept at all Blurring the lines between night and morning Though with the rising sun many of us begin mourning Lost futures Lost dreams Lost time But, no not me Sorry Test! I embrace your presence! I missed you the whole three hours that I slept last night I even thought of you in my dreams You may think that you can make me feel dejected But I know that nothing can be perfected Only tried, and tried again Until knowledge oozes out of every pore My time spent with you may have formed bags under my eyes But I refuse to let you make me look like a fool You cannot force me to frown Give me hell, I’ll give you a smile |
On this glorious morning I throw open the curtains
Feeling the sun's encouragement warm my skin And in the time when you, you conniving test Would like me to feel like the rest To join the ranks of those in their sweatpants and glasses I will dress up Make-up and all To show you today is not Test Day but my day, And you cannot make me fall. |
A Musical Presence
written by fourth-year, Kelsey Schimidt
Imagine the Star War’s Theme Song. Do you have it in your head? Now imagine the closing scenes of this epic film without that music. The notes, key changes and dramatic emphasis perfectly float through the air together and surround viewers to establish a necessary intensity for the scenes. Now, think about your own favorite film. One you can turn to when the weather is blistery, the blankets are warm and the popcorn is fresh. Take out the leading score and think about the silence. Protagonists suddenly seem less dramatic. Evil appears less intimidating. The scenes that typically lead to a series of tears streaming down one’s chilly cheeks no longer seem quite as poignant.
The presence of music molds viewer’s emotions and guides them to discover the depths of emotions that directors desire to create. Without movie soundtracks, the plot simply does not reach its potential. Without a musical presence in our lives, our days are not quite fulfilled. We use music to explain the emotions that seem difficult for our mouths to form. How intriguing is the thought that a few notes strung together on a line can create an ornate understanding of one’s heart? These same notes can turn around to create a string of inspiration or motivation. Tunes that can transform one’s day from “ehh” to “alright!” deserve numerous downloads. I save many Pandora and Spotify playlists for those days that you can’t push away that gloomy cloud hovering right above you. In an effort to push away others’ grey clouds, I’ve put together a list of some of my favorite “day-inspirer” songs. |
1. “Feel the Love” by Rudimental – This is a personal favorite. It’s upbeat, instrumental, yet modern. Once you learn the words, it goes best with the windows down and music loud.
2. “Baba O’Riley” by The Who – First of all, Go Dawgs! If this song doesn’t get the beat pumping like a UGA game day, then I’m not quite sure what to tell you. The excitement of Saturdays in Athens lives within this song. 3. “Good Day” by Nappy Roots – The song itself says Good Day. Press play and begin the head bouncing. 4. “Put On” by Young Jeezy – Now, don’t judge me. This song was on all my sports warm up CDs in high school, and it makes me feel like I’m about to compete once again. 5. “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis – I’m a huge Macklemore fan, and this song makes me feel like I should put down the computer and do something exciting with my day. There you have it. Five pump up songs of all varieties. Hopefully one of these will put a curved shape on your mouth, inspire a kick in your step or simply make your heart beat a bit stronger for a few minutes. |
Growth
written by second-year, Jessie Blaeser
The wind blew gently in the field surrounding us. Leaves waved from their branches, and the grass brushed against the soil. “Does everyone have their rocks?” we were asked. We had been looking for the past five days for rocks to place under a designated tree before we left. The rock could be anything from a large piece of gravel to a stone as big as a fist, but they were each meant to be taken from a place that held some significance with us from our week of service. Once we picked out our rocks, we wrote a word or phrase on its surface that represented a lesson we had learned from the trip as a whole or from the specific place from which the rock was taken.
This year, I chose my rock from the side of the house that we completed for our assigned family. Each year that we visited |
Matamoros, Mexico, we constructed a
home for a family in need. I watched the site go from a concrete foundation to a beautiful, blue home for a family of five that we got to know throughout the week. I squeezed the rock in my hand as I sat in the outdoor pavilion, waiting for the service to start. Soon, I found myself walking toward the shady spot where the rock would find its home, but on my way there, a different pile of rocks distracted me. I looked closer only to find faded sharpie-written phrases on the surface of each stone—it was a collection of rocks from a past trip. I stared at the notes of encouragement written on each of their rough faces, and in that moment, I realized the significance of our activity. Our rocks were permanent |
representations of our time in Matamoros—lessons that we had gained—and although those who see them in later years will not fully understand what they meant to us at the time, they will see that they have been strategically placed in an area of growth. Beneath the tree, our rocks accumulate into a ring along the roots, and there they will stay for years to come—tributes to the lives that were impacted by our time in the country.
I place my rock beneath the tree, and feel the wind flow through me. As I back away, I gaze at the words written upon its smooth surface, and admire its simplicity beneath the branches. On my way out, I pass by the rocks from former years once more, but instead of continuing back towards the pavilion, I pause and pick one up—a reminder of the growth that comes with every lesson learned. |
Just Any Day Old
written by third-year, Kent Strickland
People wish they went to Hogwarts for high school, but I essentially did. Little Rock Central High School was a magical place ranked one of the top ten prettiest high schools in the country and the only one to be deemed a national historic site. The castle-like structure even had enchanted hallways. No student’s journey to class was alike and no individual’s was ever the same day-to-day. The first floor was always with people along the ancient wall of lockers and the only accurate depiction of the struggle against the tide is that of salmon swimming upstream.
One such day, I found myself behind a lumbering football lineman who easily tripled my size. That particular day, student traffic was about as quick as a spaghetti junction traffic jam. I suppose this football player was just as enthralled with shuffling around like an arctic penguin as I was and eventually got fed up with his pace. With a loud declaration of “Man, there are too many people in this hall, I’m gonna go beast mode!” the football player began shoveling surprised students out of the way. To my pleasure, this created a wake in his path and I jumped in. Following the behemoth, I scurried down the second half of the hall, leapt down the stairs behind the campus wrecking ball and arrived at lunch well before my peers.
Another incident getting to class involved my normal stroll back from my routine of dropping off my high school sweetheart at biology before I went to history. On the journey back from the third floor south side to my second floor class I turned on the landing of the stairs. I stood like a deer in the headlights before a wave of people– many more than were normal for that particular class change. I scampered the remaining fifty feet into my class and slammed the door behind me allowing the rush of footsteps to fall where I had been seconds earlier. After the star pupil arrived uncharacteristically five minutes late, Adam informed us there had been a riot to the extent that pepper spray had been deemed a necessary measure and the resulting chaos ensued.
No two days were ever the same in those magical halls. New events and new stories were always being told and created at the same time. In the end, I probably learned more from my experiences in those hallways than I did in the classrooms.
One such day, I found myself behind a lumbering football lineman who easily tripled my size. That particular day, student traffic was about as quick as a spaghetti junction traffic jam. I suppose this football player was just as enthralled with shuffling around like an arctic penguin as I was and eventually got fed up with his pace. With a loud declaration of “Man, there are too many people in this hall, I’m gonna go beast mode!” the football player began shoveling surprised students out of the way. To my pleasure, this created a wake in his path and I jumped in. Following the behemoth, I scurried down the second half of the hall, leapt down the stairs behind the campus wrecking ball and arrived at lunch well before my peers.
Another incident getting to class involved my normal stroll back from my routine of dropping off my high school sweetheart at biology before I went to history. On the journey back from the third floor south side to my second floor class I turned on the landing of the stairs. I stood like a deer in the headlights before a wave of people– many more than were normal for that particular class change. I scampered the remaining fifty feet into my class and slammed the door behind me allowing the rush of footsteps to fall where I had been seconds earlier. After the star pupil arrived uncharacteristically five minutes late, Adam informed us there had been a riot to the extent that pepper spray had been deemed a necessary measure and the resulting chaos ensued.
No two days were ever the same in those magical halls. New events and new stories were always being told and created at the same time. In the end, I probably learned more from my experiences in those hallways than I did in the classrooms.