Notes From the Underground: Spring 2019 - Growing Pains: Notes from the Underground: Maclay Upper School's Journal of Creative Writing, #6

By Mariam Alvi, Emma Grace Bass, Jolie Baus and 58 more

We take the title of this journal from a novella of the same name by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The novella is an existentialist piece, written before Dostoyevsky's greatest works and before Existentialism had really taken root in literature. The unnamed narrator is frequently named an anti-hero and is described by the note on the back of the Dover edition as "a profoundly alienated individual in whose brooding self-analysis there is a search for the true and the good in a world of relative values and few absolutes." The novella opens with the words "I am a sick man." This is not to say that Dostoyevsky's novella are about art and darkness but rather that this novella and art confront darkness. The powers that be don't like this, but art endures and fights on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Low
• Release date: May 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393254041

Book preview

Notes from the Underground:

Maclay Upper School’s

Journal of Creative Writing

Faculty Sponsor: Dr. Craig Beaven

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Issue 6 Spring 2019

Editorial Staff

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Editor-in-Chief – Anna Kate Daunt

Asst. Editor-in-Chief – Isabel Hutchinson

Art Editor – Helen Bradshaw

Asst Art Editor – Lucy Smith

Fiction Editor – Holden Crumpler

Asst Fiction Editor – Holly Sims

Nonfiction Editor – Jainey Coates

Asst Nonfiction Editor – Lexi O’Rourke

Poetry Editor – Emily Roden

Asst Poetry Editor: – Spencer Sundberg

Asst: Poetry Editor – Abbey Stejskal

Copy Editor – Simon Corpuz

Copy Editor – Lilly Simons

Copy Editor – Haley Mainwaring

Submissions Attendant – Will Daughton

Front cover art: Helen Bradshaw, Shenandoah

Back cover art: Abbey Stejskal, The Process

A Note from the Editor

Anna Kate, we’ve got this. I lifted my tear-streaked face and allowed my eyes to wander the small, dimly light room and land on the three beautiful women huddled around me. Overwhelmed by Notes from the Underground and my other rapidly expanding list of responsibilities, I had retreated into the girls’ bathroom in the English pod to avoid excessive attention. Unexpectedly, three of my fellow editors followed me into the bathroom, simultaneously encouraging my endeavors while providing solutions to my predicaments. Instead of wallowing in my distress, an intense, yet inexplicable, feeling overwhelmed me.

This feeling carried me back to a family celebration at my cousin’s house eleven years prior. After searching for someone to play with and finding every member of my family overly preoccupied, I slipped into a closet to cry. After a few minutes, my aunt, who heard my silent sobs, discovered me.

What’s the matter? she asked with a concerned look enveloping her face.

No one wants to play with me, I wailed dramatically.

Anna, she looked me in the eyes. That’s not true at all! Everyone loves you and wants to play with you. She grabbed my hand and led me out to the living room. She proceeded to ask each member of my extended family if he or she wanted to play with me.

They all answered Of course! and expressed that they were completely unaware of my loneliness.

You see? my aunt told me after I listened to these truths. You are so loved. Next time you feel hurt, don’t run away and cry in a closet, tell someone. We’re all here for you to help you. She embraced me and planted a kiss on my forehead as I left that night.

As a six-year-old girl, this moment seemed irrelevant. In retrospect, however, this was a pivotal moment of growth in my life. I faced an important existential issue, grappled with my humanity, and learned something significant in a place where my understanding had previously lacked. Since that day, I have strived to adequately communicate my feelings.

Curled up in the C pod bathroom, I realized: the reason that moment was one of such growth stemmed from my aunt’s capacity to love me in that moment. She looked past my insecurities and met me where I was, and that was exactly what I needed in that moment. Her ability to love me pushed down all the walls I had built up and all the lies I subconsciously believed about myself: that no one wanted to play with me, and more deeply, that I was alone.

As three of my amazing peers surrounded me, I quickly realized that my mind took me back to this moment because of the outpouring of love I experienced in both of these situations. The energy to persist in my efforts and to overcome the challenges that I faced stemmed from Abbey, Lexi, and Isabel’s belief that I could continue.

As I grappled with the theme of this journal, Growing Pains, this story immediately came to mind. This moment allowed me to realize why the journal you hold in your hands is so powerful. As portrayed by these three wonderful women, each member of the Notes from the Underground community possesses such a capacity to love. Because love fosters growth, the tremendous growth this journal has undergone over the past few years makes perfect sense.

From the moment I first joined this community, I immediately noticed the love that everyone shared. I realized the hard work that Dr. Jamir put into this to make it a success. I witnessed former editors thoroughly compile the journal. This year, I’ve witnessed the journal expand to even greater heights. We’ve created a thematic layout, incorporated art work and multimedia designs, increased contributors and awareness of the journal around campus, held a spectacular reading at Midtown Reader, and helped lead the best International Women’s Day celebration ever.

None of this would have happened if it weren’t for the love that I see each and every one of you pour into this journal.

As I reckon with leaving next year, one of the hardest parts is having to say goodbye to the wonderful community I’ve found because of this journal. The people who surround me hear my voice and remind me that I am never alone. They encourage my efforts and remind me to persist. The love I’ve personally experienced in the past year is indescribable, and I am beyond grateful to have been surrounded by such an unbelievable community.

Although I am filled with sadness at the thought of having to say goodbye, I also possess a level of unparalleled confidence in regard to the future of this publication. I know that the love poured into this journal and fostered by its members will persist from one generation of Undergrounders to the next. I know that what we have will continue to sustain this journal for as long as it is relevant to this school. I am beyond excited to return and see the new avenues all of you take this beautiful community.

Goodbye for now,

Anna Kate Daunt

For Craig Beaven, PhD and Suzanne Jamir, PhD.

Growth by Isabella Choice

The Growing Woods

by Eli Mears

Art by Cody Paddack

I walked into the forest and looked around

I saw life rising from the ground:

The flora reaching for the stars above,

Huge owls sitting under the canopy’s alcove,

Small deer stumbling through the grass,

While the roaring of a bear sounds a deep bass.

Death wanders silently as well:

An elk giving out a throbbing yell,

A withered tree biting the verdant dust,

Mushrooms soon covering it like rust.

I exit a row of dead birches

As a new dawn emerges.

The Luckiest Kid

by Ryan Daunt

It was pitch black. I could see nothing. Wait! A dim light appeared in the distance. The light was getting brighter and brighter. Suddenly, there was no darkness, only light. I took a sigh of relief. I glanced around the room; I was surrounded! There were too many of them to count. Feeling hopeless, I began to cry.

I later learned that there were seven of them, nine including my parents. I was the eighth child in my large family. I also found out that I was the luckiest kid in the world. However, before I became comfortable with my family, I asked myself many questions. My head was spinning a million miles per hour in every direction, trying to answer these various questions then and there.

My first question: who are these people? These strangers were my family, all nine of them: my father and mother, my three older sisters and four older brothers. Excluding me, their ages range from seventeen to five. Sadly, my oldest sister will leave next year for college before I grow up and really get to know her. I will miss her so much. We all will. Next in line are my four crazy brothers. My brothers wrestle with me, or, if I am lucky, have a pillow fight with me, until all the fun is ruined because someone gets hurt (by the way, it’s never me). After my brothers are my two bossy sisters, who manage to manipulate my every move; I am practically their servant. Despite being under my sibling’s control, I love my family and would not trade them for anything.

My next question: where am I? It turns out, I was in Tallahassee, Florida, in my cozy home. According to my parents, my family has lived and learned in this house for twelve long years. My parents are always talking about expanding our house because it’s too small, but I don’t understand; our house is huge. There are so many hallways to run through, so many couches to jump on, and so many toys! If I had to pick my favorite room in the house, it would be my brother’s room because of the Legos. I love playing with Legos, throwing them and wrecking my brothers’ buildings are two of my favorite hobbies. My favorite game is to see how many Legos I can pile on the floor without anyone noticing. The best part of the game is watching my brother’s faces when walking into the room. Priceless! I love my house and every single room in it.

I had so many questions I asked myself. I thought the more questions I asked, the better off I’d be. This is only partially true. My various questions for myself are not why I love my family and home, but rather how my family answered my questions over time. The answer, I found, was love and virtue, and because of this, I am the