Question of the Day: What television show character do you identify with the most and why?

Today, our high school’s literary magazine was officially published and printed. 25 brand new copies, trimmed and bounded by our lovely Graphics Department chair. Don’t you just love the smell and feel of freshly made books? As editor-in-chief of the publication, I’ve been swelling up full of pride and joy over this third issue and been reflecting now more than ever about Graduation and what sort of contributions I have made to my high school.

You see, the school’s “Lit Mag” had died by the time I was a freshman; it had been at least three or four years since the last issue had been printed and nobody had desired to pick it back up. So I did. Each year since then I’ve been brought back Lit Mag club and have now published three issues of the new Literary Magazine. And I have to say that this year’s is by far the best.

The mag is more well-known around the school now, so we got a lot more submissions than we ever have before…more than 60 ENTRIES! We also had an amazing layout designer who worked everyday in class on the magazine, and some great editors that were a part of the club. It’s been a ton of work–one year’s amount of effort, in fact–but it’s been sooooo worth it. This magazine has been my legacy to the school. There are students who were able to use our magazine to express their feelings and emotions through creative writing and visual artwork…students who often are overlooked, students whom others would never have guessed had an artistic side. And this, knowing that I’m helping my fellow peers get their work out, is the best reward I’ve gotten from printing this magazine year after year.

I am very proud of the club and of myself and am so glad this was able to be accomplished, especially right before my senior year is over. A great end to a great chapter of my life.

Here is one of the poems that got published in this issue of our literary magazine:

My booming piece of laughter
and crystallized teardrops
along with the fluttering wings of my heart
Are all magnified by ten.

I’ve been told before
That my comforting arms are like that of an angel,
That my words cut deep like a knife.
And the sad thing is they are true,
for I can see the angel and feel the knife.

My love is like no other love
My jealousy is poisoning and plastic,
And my hatred is traumatic
Emotions of my being are extraterrestrial.
Dare you touch me?

Do any of you like to write poetry?