February 26

Reach for the Stars by Sofia Cipolloni

5 o’clock. The moment the hallways of my office overflow with people. The time the sun begins to set and the streets of this city are lit up by towers and dreams. The time I am regretful of letting the ones I looked up to the most decide who I am. The first face I saw was not my own, but my parent’s. Now when I look in the mirror, I realize my reflection was never my own, but an image of all the things my parents wanted to see.

My parents were pretty average people, and they did not have any interests or talents. My dad worked as an accountant and my mom was a clerk. Their only goal was to get through life, and they did not concern themselves with anything that would be too much work. When I was a kid, I wanted to become a famous painter. As a kid, I would sketch little doodles of cartoons I would see on television. When I would show my teachers, they would be shocked that instead of scribbling on the paper like the other 6-year-olds, I was drawing people and animals. When I showed my parents my art, they would frown and take my paint and pencils away from me saying, “they were too distracting.” Regardless of the drawing I would show them, they were never impressed and continued to discourage me. I never understood what they meant.

The one thing my parents wanted was success. They thought success was defined as getting a job in an office and making money. As I grew older, I realized that I feared their version of success more than failing at something I wanted to do. When I explained to them about how I wanted to go to be an arts major, they told me that they would only pay for college if I went into business. I was steered in a direction from which I could not escape.

Now I’m in an office just like they wanted. Was this success? Was this what I was born to do? I thought success was supposed to be a nice thing. I thought I was supposed to be happy now. I feel tricked. Is it too late for me now? I need hope.

As I typed on my computer, I prepared for my next interview. I then heard a knock on my door. “Mr. Smith? May I come in? I am here for my interview.” In walked a young lady with blonde hair and a big smile. She smiled like I have never seen in my whole life. “Hello, I’m Fia, I’m here for the volunteering opportunity.”

“Good, could you tell me about yourself?” I said in a surprised tone.

“Sure! I am aspiring to become a singer when I grow up,” she said in a happy voice.

I looked down, confused by her response because her resume said she had straight A’s and took extra business classes. “What do your parents think about you wanting to be a singer?” I said.

“My parents put me in a private school in kindergarten that taught me leadership and communication skills. They told me to follow my heart and chase my dreams. They supported me and got me to where I am today,” she said with bright eyes.

I was astonished. This is what it is supposed to be like. This was happiness. Right in front of me, was everything that I wanted to become as a kid and everything I wanted my parents to see in me. All I wanted was my parents to believe in me. As she walked out of my office, I looked at my painting on the wall with a night sky and stars and said, “I hope that you reach for the stars.”

 

February 26

Artwork: Untitled by Emma Janusko

Artwork: Untitled by Emma Janusko (Colored Pencil)

Inspiration: What inspired this piece is recently I have been working on realistic drawings which is a new type of art for me. I have seen numerous drawings that are amazing and it inspired me to try something new using a new modality. I normally do paintings but I decided to try something different, and after multiple attempts I was able to create the image I was hoping for.

Its Meaning: I hope the viewer will see that even though it may take some time if you try you really can accomplish your goals.

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February 22

“Comfortable” by Kirsten Ponticelli

I am told I should strive for change,

For what is new and unknown,

But it’s hard to change, it’s hard to say goodbye to familiarity.

A lot of people don’t like change:

I still read the same books, I still listen to the same music;

How do I outrun who I am? 

How do I leave what never asks me to go?

No matter how many trials I put myself through, I can never flee my own skin.

Freedom will never be tasted by the tongue that is so in love with the bite.

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February 22

“Ode to My Favorite Book” by Aascharya Srinivasan

One book, old and falling apart,

Pieces of worn out tape pasted on the spine.

The fourth chapter sticks out slightly.

The pages, now a worn, dusty brown,

Are held together by my love.

Sitting at the top of my bookshelf,

It is door waiting to be opened:

Filled with memories and adventures that aren’t mine,

With my friends that I cannot keep,

With curiosity and excitement imprinted in its pages the first time I read it.

Pages are thin and delicate,

Like a falling feather;

And the almost broken binding,

A chipped china tea cup,

That could shatter if held too tightly.

Stories and characters,

As dear to me as any in the real world:

A collection of moments,

That I get to hold in my very hands.

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February 22

Artwork: Hoya by Kyla Jenkins

“Hoya” by Kyla Jenkins (photography)

Inspiration: I had been given this plant as a cutting, and nursed it to a super healthy plant, but it hadn’t flowered yet.  I was so proud of my green thumb when it finally did it was so beautiful and the little droplet was like a jewel begging to be photographed!

Its Meaning: I hope they find joy in the simple elegance of an unusual flower! We need to stop and look for the little details as often as we can in this busy, busy world.

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