8 Puaner oF THE Arts / NovemBer 1995 odds Y,) ¢ ¢ & “Ae 9 ROA EN whe VES. o> I'm A Prisoner In My Own School BY D CREAMER When I decided to continue my education and attend Emily Carr, I had no idea of the amount of security required to keep me and my stuff safe. It’s not every school that can boast of having brand new locks put on its doors. I do have to wonder how much those magnetic locks in the south build- ing cost. The ones that, locked or not, a good yank and they fly powers that be decided some time ago to put in a state of the art security system. Fine. Sounds like a good idea. I can hear them now; “Yeah, yeah, I get it, we'll give all the kids their very own ID card with a personalized UPC code. That way the kids can come and go and do whatever it is that stu- dents do these days, and we'll be keeping the hooligans outta there!” And | have to admit that, when I first heard of this idea, it sounded are probably (almost exclusively) students. We've just locked all the petty criminals inside and incon- venienced a lot of honest students in the process. A good example of the prob- lems with this Fort Knox approach to school securities is the design division on the third floor of the new building. We use the main doors, and have to travel to the far end of the school. The other (more obvious and convenient) doors are this, according to many students, is to put an obstruction in the way of the door so that they can come and go as they please. This of course defeats the whole point of - having a security system at all. The point is this: of course this school needs a security system, but it should be as inobtrusive as pos- sible. I for one don’t like being a prisoner in my own school. With the input of students and teachers, a reasonable solution can be found. I would like to see barcode readers on all the doors going into the design studios and one on the open like JFK Jr’s fly. In their eternal wisdom, the okay. But then it occurred to me that the people thieving the school locked up tight with no card entry elevator. Write with your sugges- scanner. The obvious solution to P tions to PoA. @& Tales Of The Dreamtide Wake — BoB - Bob looked past the filth, into the distant night sky. He stared at the stars, a smile was etched on his lips. How long had he sat in that alley (eons?)— it was a blur to him. Swaddled amongst the trash, he felt the bugs creep up his pants; funny thing that he had never noticed this before. He rose from the heap of debris. Strewn bottles, mingled with drugged out vagrants, lined the broken dark of the alley. Bob could feel his bones creak as they swayed under the great mass that he had accu- mulated in fifteen years. It felt good to rise from the ashes, always felt good to walk the hard asphalt. Cracking his fingers and shaking his head from a two dollar hangover, Bob began to lope down the aisle of trash cans and impassive steel cargo doors - a hulking figure in grease stained buckskin coat, and torn converse sneaks. “ere Lesley bent over to pick up the books that fell out of her bag. Her tiny skirt was a little too unforgiving, allowing the boys to cop a cheap glance at the cotton roses beneath—followed by the typical teen boy tribal wail, WOOoooo000! Flip the bird, that’s it Lesley, don’t allow them to get an edge on you. Up came her finger as she twisted, skirt still raised a fraction, ferreting out their gaze. “Oh! How unladylike,” George sneered, “Look the new girl has strawberry undies.” The boys all laughed. Lesley cringed at the thought of this pimple ridden oaf ogling her, lewd, unjust, she hated him. “If you come a little closer, you’d probably see that they were roses, Dick!” Lesley cooed. Ah, the challenge. Any takers? Of course the young male libido has no defense against the call to stand up to a girl. That’s it Georgie, well I guess it’s really dick just like she said, you can’t possibly let her get away with it. George closed in for the kill, unwary of the spirit of his prey. Yes, do it. He stooped down arro- gantly to take a look-see, but boy, wasn’t he surprised to see the waffle of her Doc Martin’s implant its stamp on his retina. Five feet, that’s right five whole feet he reeled backwards before he landed flat on his ass— with a bump of course. “Bitch,” yelled forth from his mouth. “What a slut from Hell,” a girl whispered. “Tell me! Just trying to get attention,” replied another. “Ahaaaaaaah, George ya fuckin’ sis.” “Holy shit.” “I don’t think she’ll find any friends here.” “Look at her hair.” “What a goof.” “What ‘s going on here? Mr. Barnes, stand up and stop your swear- ing. Well missy, what do you have to say all about this?” The conversation danced feverishly around Lesley. Confusion, triumph, and pain mixed and mulled in her gut. It's hard being The new girl, especially one who has her eyebrow pierced. os Over hill over dale, Bob walked the dusty trail right out of the com- mercial heart of the city. It was nearing noon and his feet were tired from all the grit that had slowly leaked into his torn sneakers. He had been walking aimlessly (well not all that aimlessly since he was trying to escape the claws of the black city) for nearly thirteen hours. The night creatures had fed long ago and were now nestled into their corners, hiding from the blinding sweat of the Sun's domain. But not good old Bob. Here he is trying to escape the night. Hmmm! Fuck if I know where he is going. Well being the narrator, you know, I can’t always foresee these things; HEY BoB Wait up! Tiny four corner houses popped up over the hill in front of him. Wow! White, pink, and yellow green. The suburb glowed in the radiance of the noon-day downpour of light, It was a haven from the grit of urbanity, an oasis in the filth. Bob/looked on with eager eyes, down into the valley of 2-block parks, two children homes, and two car garages. Joy! The giant, native of this land before time began, straddled a dande- lion while overlooking this quaint little scene - then bounded down the ridge. Bobby-boy all full of hope. Fifteen years of death will do that to you. Oh my friend, do you know what you are getting into? They aren’t going to be at all happy about-your sudden intrusion, let alone your BY J LAMBERTON beastly appearance. Oh, how simply silly of me! Of course you know - it’s your story, after all. We'll see ya in a bit, Chief. aie “Can I leave?” huffed Lesley as she sat in the corner of the school office. “The bell’s gone, can I LEAVE?” The principal, staring at the papers on his desk, regained control of the snicker that had almost left his lips. What, did she think he was so engaged in punishing her that he was going to detain her while rush hour piled up. No way man, he was out of there. For Heaven’s sake, he couldn’t miss the opener for the Mariner's game that was on the box tonight. Silly girl! So naive, kinda cute though. “O.K. missy. I hope you learned your lesson. You know it’s my job to make sure that young people get an education here. I don’t want this place to be upset by the anarchy of one individual. You won’t make any friends acting the way you did today,” he stated blandly. “Ya right,” this little missy slurred under her breath. Lesley shouldered her bag and strode to the door, back turned to the man in the dark tweed suit, unaware of the gaze that would like to see the tiny flowers beneath her plaid skirt. . The doors burst open in front of her as she forced herself to breath in the pleasant air. Black didn’t fit in well with these kinds of surroundings. They contrast too much to the cheeriness that leather has to offer. Walking down Montrose Street she could hear the faint hum of a distant lawn mower, and the buzz of a bee flirting with her. The sickness boiled in her stomach again - indigestion of the perfect surroundings. She walked intently towards the giant fluorescent 7 at the corner, noticing the smile of a young lad sitting on his front steps; behind him a door concealed the frantic mixture of Ricky Lake and a woman who was trying to fix herself up after a drugged day of depressants. Lesley wandered out of the glass doors, cherry slushee in hand. The cold lit her up instantly as it slid down her throat, melting in the bowels of her stomach. The ache resided as this bit of capitalism reached out to keep her addicted. Ah yes folks, a slushee always does the trick - Thank Heaven for 7-Eleven. She didn’t even care that the immigrant behind the counter kept eyeing her suspiciously, and that big brother was watching her every motion from above. Homeward bound, that little girl was Homeward bound. Off to see her only friend, the friend that doesn’t complain, the interlaced monitor, storyland to America. The Indian fol- lowed. Lesley produced a key after a few minutes of shuffling through her sack. She opened the door to her mother’s new home. She had been living here for a couple of weeks, but she still felt awkwardly enclosed inside the house’s walls. It was a far cry from the tiny apartment they lived in after her parent’s separation. You see, her mother didn’t get the house because of a simple agreement made many years ago out of love for her estranged husband. Lesley and her mother eked out a meager existence, trying to get themselves back into the swing of society. Her mother, Anne, hadn't worked for years because her father took care of all the finances. Then one day he told her that the new girl at the office wasn't so new, to him at least. That did it, oh boy did it ever. Anne slapped him hard: betrayal, offensive, sick. Well fortunate for Lesley, she got to start a new life— away from her friends, and as a crutch for her mother. She was still too young to decide who she wanted to live with, at least the courts said so. She didn’t care for either parent, both were assholes as far as she thought, she just wanted to stay with her friends. It was fine for a while; she could bus to school from the apartment her mother rented. She had to rise from bed a bit earlier, but on the flip side, she was allowed to stay with her friends whenever their parents allowed. Didn't have to come home to her mommy's moping all the time, and she could easily meet Bradley for romantic interludes without the watchful eye of her parents always looming over her. Then it happened. No more fucking in the basement of Bradley’s complex, no more sleep-overs with the girls, and no more urban excitement. Her mother, Anne, found work at a local newspaper, just outside of the city. Oooh! exciting. Hey dear, we're outa here, off to start a new life in the ‘burbs. The ache began at this moment and it never really went away since. ae continued on page 23 8 Paver orm Ans |, Novae 1995 I'm A Prisoner In My Own School by D CREAMER powers that be decided some time ago to put ina state ofthe art security system. Fine. Sounds like a good idea can hear them now; “Yeah, yeah, I get it, well give all the kids their very own ID card with a personalized UPC code. That way the kids can come and go and do whatever it is that stu- dents do these days, and we'll be ‘Keeping the hooligans outta there!” ‘And Ihave to admit that, when 1 first heard of this idea, it sounded ‘okay. But then it occurred to me ‘thatthe people thieving the school When I decided to continue my ‘education and attend Emily Care 1 had no idea of the amount of security required to keep me and imy stuff sae, I's not every schoo! ‘that can boast of having brand new locks put on its doors. 1 do hhave to wonder how much those ‘magnetic locks in the south build ing cost. The ones that, locked or not, a good yank and they fly ‘open like JFK Jes fly. In their eternal wisdom, the this, according to many students, is to put an obstruction in the way ‘of the door so that they can come ‘and go as they please. This of course defeats the whole point of hhaving a security system at all. ‘The point is this: of course this school needs a security system, but it should be as inobtrusive as pos- sible. [for one don't like being a prisoner in my own school. With the input of students and teachers, a reasonable solution can be found. | would like to see barcode readers on all the doors going into the design studios and one on the elevator. Write with your sugges- tions to PoA. are probably (almost exclusively) students, We've just Tocked all the petty criminals inside and incon- venienced a lot of honest students inthe process. ‘A good example of the prob lems with this Fort Knox approach to Schoo! securities isthe design division on the third floor of the new building, We use the main doors, and have to travel to the far end ofthe school. The other (more ‘obvious and convenient) doors are Tocked up tight with no card entry scanner. The obvious solution to Tales Of The Dreamtide Wake - BoB - Bob looked past the filth into the distant night sky. He stared atthe stars, a smile was etched on his lips. How long had he satin that alley (cons?}~ it was a blur to him. Swaddled amongst the trash, he felt the bugs ereep up his pants; funny thing that he had never noticed this before. He rose from the heap of debris. Strewn bottles, mingled with drugged out vagrants, lined the broken dark of the alley. Bob could feel his bones ereak as they swayed under the great mass that he had accu ‘mulated in fifteen years. It felt good to rise from the ashes, always felt {food to walk the hard asphalt, Cracking his fingers and shaking his head from a two dollar hangover, Bob began to lope dovn the aisle of trash cans and impassive stel cargo doors ~ a hulking figure in grease stained buckskin coat, and torn converse sneaks. Ae Lesley bent over to pick up the books that Fell out of er bag. Her tiny skirt was a litle too unforgiving, allowing the boys to cop a cheap, lance atthe cotton roses bencath-followed by the typical teen boy tribal wail, WOOo00000! Flip the bird, that’s it Lesley, dont allow them to get an edge on you. Up came her Finger as she twisted, skirt still, raised a fraction, ferreting out their gaze. “Oh! How unladylike,” George ‘sneered, "Look the new girl has strawberry undies.” The boys all laughed. Lesley cringed at the thought of this pimple ridden oaf ogling her, lewd, unjust, she hated him. “If you come alittle closer, you'd probably see that they were roses, ick” Lesley cooed, Ah, the challenge. Any takers? OF course the young male libido has no defense against the eal to stand up to a gis. That's it Georgie, well | quess i's really dick just lke she said, you can't possibly let her get away with it. George closed in for the Kill, unwary of the spirit of his prey. Yes, do it. He stooped down arro- sgantly to take a look-see, but boy, wasn't he surprised to sce the waffle of her Doc Martin's implant its stamp on his retina, Five feet, that’s right five whole feet he reeled backwards before he landed Maton his ass~ with a bump of course “Biteh," yelled forth from his mouth, ‘What a slut from Hel,” a giel whispered “Tell me! Just trying to get attention,” replied another. “Ahaaaaaaah, George ya fuckin’ ss “Holy shit" “I don't think shel find any frends here.” “Look at her hair” What a got” What ’s going on here? Mr. Barnes, stand up and stop your swear- ing. Well missy, what do you have to say all about tis?” “The conversation danced feverishly around Lesley. Confusion, ‘triumph, and pain mixed and mulled in her gut. I's hard being The new Bit, especially one who has her eyebrow pierced. “Ae Overhill over dale, Bob walked the dusty trail right out ofthe com- mercial heart of the city. It was nearing noon and his feet were tired from all the grit that had slowly leaked into his torn sneakers. He had been walking aimlessly (well not all that aimlessly since he was trying to ‘scape the claws of the black city) for nearly thirteen hours. The night creatures had fed long ago and were now nestled into their comers, hiding from the blinding sweat of the Sup's domain. But not good old Bob, Here he is trying fo escape the night. Hmmm! Fuck if | know where hae is going. Well being the narrator, you know, I can't always foresee these things; HEY BoB Wait up! Tiny four comer houses popped up over the bill n Front of him, Wow! White, pink, and yellow green. The suburb glowed in the radiance of the noon-day downpour of light It was a haven from the grit of urbanity, an oasis in the filth. Bobylooked on with eager eyes, down into the valley of 2-block parks, two children homes, and two car garages. Joy! The giant, naive ofthis land before time began, straddled a dande- lion while overlooking this quafnt litle scene ~ then bounded down the ridge. Bobby-boy all full of hope. Fifteen years of death will do that to ‘you. Oh my fiend, do you know what you are getting into? They aren't oing tobe at all happy about your sudden intrusion, let alone your beastly appearance. Oh, how simply silly of me! Of course you know ~ its your story, afterall, Well see ya in abit, Chief, “4 an | Ieave?™ huffed Lesley as she satin the corner of the schoo! office. “The bell’s gone, ean I LEAVE?” ‘The principal, staring at the papers on his desk, regained control of the smicker that had almost left his lps. What, did she think he was so engaged in punishing her that he was going to detain her while rush hour piled up. No way man, he was out of there. For Heaven's sake, couldn't miss the opener for the Mariners game that was on the box tonight. Silly git! So naive, kinda cute though. “O.K. missy. I hope you learned your lesson. You know it’s my job to ‘make sure that young people get an education here. I don't want this place to be upset by the anarchy of one individual. You won't make any fiends acting the way you did today,” he stated bland. "Ya right” this litle missy slurred under her breath. Lesley shouldered her bag and strode to the door, back turned to the man in the dark tweed suit, unaware of the gaze that would like to see the tiny flowers beneath her plaid skirt { ‘The doors burst open in front of her as she forced herself to breath in the pleasant air. Black didnt fit in well with these kinds of surroundings. They contrast to0 much to the cheeriness that leather has to offer. ‘Walking down Montrose Street she could hear the faint hum of distant lawn mower, and the buzz of a bee Ming with her. The sickness boiled in her stomach again ~ indigestion of the perfect surroundings. She walked intently towards the giant fluorescent 7 at the corner, noticing the smile of a young lad sitting on his front steps; behind him a door concealed the frantic mixture of Ricky Lake and a woman who was Laying to fix herself up after a drugged day of depressants Lesley wandered out of the glass doors, chery slushee in hand. The cold lit her up instantly a it slid down her throat, melting in the bowels of her stomach, The ache resided as this bit of capitalism reached out to keep her addicted. Ah yes folks, a slushee always does the trick ~ Thank Heaven for 7-Eleven, She didn't even care that the immigrant behind the counter kept eyeing her suspiciously, and that big brother was watching, her every motion from above. Homeward bound, that litle gil was Homeward bound. Off to see her only friend, the friend that doesn't complain, the interlaced monitor, storyland to America. The Indian fol- lowed Lesley produced a key after a few minutes of shuffling through her sack. She opened the door fo her mother's new home. She had been living here for a couple of weeks, but she stil felt awkwardly enclosed inside the house's walls It was a far ery from the tiny apartment they lived in after her parent's separation. You see, her mother didn't get the hhouse because of a simple agreement made many years ago out of love for her estranged husband. Lesley and her mother eked out a meager existence, trying to get themselves back into the swing of society. Her ‘mother, Anne, hadn't worked for years because her father took care of all. the finances. Then one day he told her thatthe new girl atthe office wasn't so new, to him atleast. That did it, oh boy did it ever. Anne slapped him hard: betrayal, offensive, sick. Well fortunate for Lesley, she ot to start a new life— away from her friends, and as a crutch for her ‘mother. She was still too young to decide who she wanted to live wi at least the cours said so. She didn't care for either parent, both were assholes as far as she thought, she just wanted to stay with her fiends. It was fine for a while she could bus to school from the apartment her ‘mother rented. She had to rise from bed a bit earlier, but on the flipside, she was allowed to stay with her friends whenever their parents allowed Didn't have to come home to her mommy's moping all the time, and she ‘ould easily meet Bradley for romantic interludes without the watchful ‘ye of her parents always looming over her. Then it happened. No more fucking in the basement of Bradley's complex, no more sleep-overs with the girls, and no more urban excitement. Her mother, Anne, found work at a local newspaper, just outside ofthe city. Oooh! exciting. Hey dear, we're outa here, off to start anew life in the ‘burbs. The ache began at this moment and it never really went away since. aE continued on pe 23