Fall Makeup Trends of 2014 - by: Danielle Weigand, 9th grade

Fall is my all time favorite season for fashion and beauty. This years makeup trends stand out the most because they mainly focus on major pops of color and the "no makeup" look.

Overall Face: Matte or Dewy?

 The answer is Dewy! A dewy finish is a more "light reflecting" look. It gives the look of all the natural oils without being too oily. This type of finish incorporates and more natural and life like face. As appose to a matte finish. Matte makeup can be worn all season long but is occasionally worn during the winter and late fall. Matte gives you the look of a doll like appearance almost flawless.  Finishing sprays by NYX can help you achieve either look :)

Brows:

Thick and bold brows are a must this year! Women such as Cara delevingne, Lily Collins and even Audrey Hepburn have the bushy brows. Threading gives you the best possible shape over waxing because since waxing is just a straight strip it wouldn't give you the best shape possible.

Eyes:

The cat eye is always a favorite. A pop of eye shadow is the new look also. From vibrant eye shadows to flouresnt eye liners, color is a must have!

Spider lashes have also came back! So ladies, rock those lashes.

Lips, Lips and more Lips:

Plum lips are a fall favorite. Especially with the new NYX butter gloss! Nude lips are also a fall favorite. Dark colors always look best during the fall.

Tools;

BEAUTY BLENDERS!!!! Beauty blenders of any kind are an essential to foundation and concealer. Just damp the sponge and dab on your foundation for a flawless finish!

DUSK FLOWERS: Chapter Three - a novel by GEORGIA RIVERA, 9th grade

Before she even walked through the door, Eliza knew something was wrong. From behind the solid wood, she could hear the indignant yowling of her pet cat, Willow. Willow was a quiet animal and virtually unnoticeable. To hear the cat so upset was unsettling.

Preparing herself for the worst, Eliza unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Standing in Eliza's kitchen, holding Eliza's cat by the scruff of her neck, was the young woman who only hours before had been grievously wounded and unable to stand, let alone crash through windows properly.

The cat and the woman seemed to be engaged in a argument of sorts. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the cat, finally dumping the animal to the ground, dismissively. Willow ran to her master, curling herself behind Eliza's legs in fright.

"That thing doesn't like me very much." Said the woman as she flung open a cabinet. Eliza let her groceries slide to the tile floor and scooped the cat into her arms. "Her name," She replied, "Is Willow. And she probably has a good reason for it."

The woman laughed, the unnatural sound grating and wild. "All I did was ask where you kept the peanut butter." Eliza was stunned. Not only was the intruder up and functioning, she was also ransacking Eliza's obviously empty kitchen for peanut butter!

And how on earth would the poor cat tell her where it was?

"I don't think Willow can talk." Eliza commented. The woman turned to her, eyebrows raised."What's in the bags?' She asked. Eliza shrugged. "Bread, eggs, powerful antibiotics. The usual."

As the woman approached, Eliza couldn't help but open her mouth again. "How are you alright? What happened last night? Am I on a T.V. show or something?" The woman only snorted and bent down to dg through the bags. "I heal fast. Yeah, I could lie and say that wasn't totally embarrassing, but I won't and it was. I guess I'll say thank you though."

Pulling out a carton of eggs, she rose and strode back to the counter. "I mean really, having to rely on a human to help me out. I thought I was beyond that." She shot a pointed glance at Eliza, who had taken a seat on the couch. "By the way, I can't go on calling you 'That Human' forever. You got a real name or what?"

Eliza huffed. "It's Eliza." She paused. "Are you really okay? That looked bad." The woman looked up. "I'm fine." She assured the girl, extending her index finger and slicing though the layers of cheap gauze covering her wound. True to her word, there wasn't even a scar left behind on her pale skin. "Ta-da!"

Shocked, Eliza shook her head in disbelief. "How the hell did you do that?" The woman didn't answer, instead grinning crookedly and extending a hand.

"Uso. My name's Uso." She said, matter-of-factly.

"So can I crash here or what?"

Eliza was speechless. She settled for taking Uso hand and shaking. Uso's blue eyes shone. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You still haven't answered my question." Eliza said, "Why are you here?"

"That," Uso sighed, "Is a very long and confusing story. For you, anyway. You wouldn't even believe me. That's what humans are known for, and I couldn't even prove myself. I'm pretty weak right now."

Eliza frowned. Why did this woman keep calling her a human? Wasn't that just stating the obvious? And what did she mean, she couldn't prove herself?

Turning back to the eggs, Uso grimaced. "Like right now, I'm gonna have to cook these the normal way. On the stove!" She laughed to herself.

Eliza felt something spark inside her. "You can steal my food right after you've fixed my window and cleaned my blankets!" She spat. She instantly regretted it. Her mother her taught her to always try her best to stay calm when dealing with difficult people.

To Eliza's surprise, Uso only shrugged. "Okay. Why didn't you say so?' She rolled her shoulders back. "I can feel it now." Feel what? Eliza wondered.

Maybe Uso was a nutcase, Eliza thought. She could be one of those people that rappel down random buildings. That one guy really did think he was Spiderman, she reminded herself. Still, when Uso walked back down the hall to the bedroom, Eliza followed.

Hands on her hips, Uso surveyed the scene. "Hm. This one's an easy fix." She said. "Oh, and you might want to take a seat."

Uso raised her arms and Eliza's jaw almost hit the floor.

The shards of glass had been lifted off the carpet in a glowing whirlwind, enveloped in purple light. With a flick of her wrist, Uso snapped the pieces back into their frame.

Dropping the cat, Eliza went directly to the window. In awe, she rapped her knuckles against the clear surface. Solid. "So," Uso said nonchalantly, "Where are those blankets?"

Once again at a loss for words, Eliza led Uso out onto the apartment's small balcony. The balcony was Eliza's favorite thing about the apartment. It gave a perfect view of the city around the tall building. Usually, when weather permitted, Eliza would eat her meals outside.

Eliza had put the laundry basket outside, just in case the contents developed an odor before laundry day. Lifting the soiled comforter from the basket, Uso traced her fingers over the stains, trailing flashes of purple light. The stains evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of ever having existed.

For what seemed like the thousandth time since having woken up that morning, Eliza was utterly floored. A few rays of the steadily rising Sun burst from a gap between two buildings, the inferno landing on the balcony.

Eliza felt weak. "Who are you?" She asked timidly.

"My full name," Said Uso, "Is Uso the Untruth, of the Deep Woods and Sky, Master of the Bay State and all surrounding areas, the Mistress of Avarice,

"And the seventh libran, a Daughter of Twilight in authority of all realms; all things, both light and dark." The light rising around her twisted and fluctuated, seeming to bow before her.

"But you, dear Eliza, can simply call me Uso."

Art in the Eyes of Longfellow: Poem Interpretation by Crystal Zettwoch

Many people know the famous Henry Wadsworth Longfellow for his beautifully composed poems and pieces of literature. One of his most famous pieces "A Psalm of Life" (first appearing in the Knickerbocker Magazine in October 1838) carries multiple meaningful messages including the importance of life and the necessity of finding your purpose in life and being productive to fulfill your said purpose.

Here is the poem:

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream ! —

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal ;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way ;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle !

Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead !

Act,— act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate ;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

------------------------------

One particular line reads, "Art is long, and Time is fleeting". This specific line has stayed with me since the first time I had read it. 

What exactly does this statement mean?

I believe the message Longfellow is trying to deploy is the fact in which art is everlasting and cannot be taken away or changed over time. However, time never ceases to stop for us and things change as time changes.

Art is long lasting, yet our time on earth is not. 

This stresses the importance of art. We need to leave a piece of us behind and what better way to do so besides art ? Art comes in all different forms, but it is ultimately up to us which form we leave behind.

Recently I took a trip to Washington DC and toured the Library of Congress. The architecture and mosaics where absolutely breathtaking. Just by standing in the Library I was able to get a feel of the time period in which it was built. The art surrounding me led a path for me to begin to understand past American culture and all the other supporting influences which impacted the United States. 

Ironically, when I looked up at the decorated walls in the Library, Longfellow's very words were displayed above me with the exact line I treasure so much. I believe that this was not a coincidence at all, the individual who was in charge of decorating the Library placed that quote to express the importance of the power of art on a society.

"Anxiety, Applications and Autumn" by Sarah Vallecillo

As a child, I loved the fall because of the vibrant colors, Halloween, and pumpkin pie. As I grew older, I began to dread the season because it meant I would have to go
back to school and deal with the stress it caused me. My first day as a high school senior, almost all of my teachers mentioned how college and adult responsibilities were approaching us with increasing speed. College applications, S.A T's, deadlines and the pressure to maintain an impressive grade point average loomed over my head. I had a long list of things I needed to accomplish and the constant reminders stirred up a panicked feeling in my chest. On the way home, I looked out the car window and focused on the trees and the slight yellow tint of the turning leaves. As I stood at the threshold of my senior year, I was reminded of a more charming fall day in 2003, before school became such a scary place, a time where fall was much simpler.

 This particular Saturday afternoon in October, my father decided to take me and my siblings to the local park in our neighborhood. The weather was comfortable, but still cold enough to wear a sweater. Dried leaves whisked along the cobblestone and happy colored tree tops stood a mile above me. The sounds of squealing children, ringing bells from food vendors and Mexican music mingled together in the air. I took delight in playing on piles of leaves which park sanitation had unintentionally left at my disposal. We stayed until the sun started to set, to my mothers annoyance, we would be late for dinner. I remember sitting on a grassy hill, overlooking the busy streets below. I watched as the sky turned to a lovely shade of pink, and in that moment not a single worry crossed my mind.

There are days when I long for this feeling of peace. My first day of senior year was simply one of those days. I realize I am not alone in my college endeavor and most high school seniors face  similar feelings of anxiety during this particular season. I know more gratifying times are yet to come and I look forward to when my hard work pays off. Still, I appreciate when I can get lost in a memory and escape the worries of life, even if it is just for a few moments.

United States Army Visit: 9/24

The United States Army visits our school and gives students the chance to have a hands on experience in the AS49th Graders Kelsey Flynn and Jaden Corallo test out the AS4 goodies.

HAPPINESS - a poem by TERESA PARISI

You feel like you're drowning in regrets and sorrows

so when you hit the surface it's a breath of new air

a taste of what you used to feel.

Your lungs are filled with oxygen, you can feel them thanking you.

Everything is at peace. Everything is quiet. 

The water keeps you afloat; you stretch out your arms, reach out with your legs, and close your eyes.

You exhale.

But you're drifting, the waves are crashing, you forget how to swim, and you're under once again,

Everything is paralyzed, and the collection of pillow cases you've drenched in your own remorse are filling your body, weighing you down.

You've reached the sea floor, not walking but shuffling, almost dragging your feet,

your feet that are aching with loneliness.

You can not swim to the top, but your body won't stop moving along the floor and you can't help but wonder how this is all happening.

How can I feel such pain but not my movement?

How can I drown but never to death?

Why am I still alive at the bottom of this endless pit of water?

Your lungs are heavy with last night's thoughts and you forget the last time they were light and airy.

This ocean is too wide for just you, so you walk the floor until you find something.

You don't know what you're looking for, maybe a reef to rest, a boat for saving, a shark to put an end to your misery.

Your demise is not up to you.

POINT OF VIEW - a poem by TERESA PARISI

There's the city's skyscrapers,

mountains so high,

and airplanes that can touch the sky.

There are towering tress,

statues ten times your size,

oh I promise you darling you won't believe your eyes!

Now look at your problems,

they're too small to see,

when you're handing next to a Hyperion tree.