Since its creation over 20 years ago, After Prom has been an annual event that has been on the calendars of seniors since the first day of school.

As the 2009 Senior Prom is this Saturday, April 25, the excitement for After Prom escalates. The entertaining, early-morning extravaganza will immediately follow the Prom and will begin at midnight on Saturday, April 25, and will conclude at 5 am on Sunday morning. “Seniors should be excited and want to go to After Prom because this is the last organized event for them as seniors at TJ.  This gives them the opportunity to spend some fun time with all of their friends,” said Karen Swedhin, the lead organizer of After Prom 2009.

After Prom was created as a way for seniors to have a safe and fun environment to follow the Prom, and still be able to stay out all night with their friends.  “I’m excited to go to After Prom because everyone from years past says that it is the highlight of the entire night,” commented Senior Turner Wyatt.  Several prizes will be given throughout the night, as well as a few big-time prizes at the end of the night, in a raffle.

Due to the immense expense of Prom and everything it entails, TJ students will be relieved that After Prom is completely free of charge and is open to all seniors and their dates. “After Prom is FREE. There’s no strings attached. There are very few things in this world that are truly free, and as the seniors enter the ‘real world’ they will soon find this out,” Swedhin stated.

Even if After Prom is quickly approaching, the theme is still a mystery to the students.  The theme will be revealed when the seniors arrive in the gym at midnight. “It’s fun and funny to see what the parents have come up with and have been working on for so many months,” said Swedhin.

Although After Prom is free, it is mandatory to sign-up at the treasurer’s office with Derrek Steffes.  The sign-up was available daily from April 9th to April 23rd.  It is mandatory to sign up for After Prom prior to entrance; if a student fails to sign-up, he or she will be denied access.

For the parent volunteers who put together this monumental event, four years of fundraising and extremely hard work is about to unfold. “Nowadays, it costs at least $20,000 to put on a nice After Prom, so as you can see, fund raising is a must for a nice After Prom. It’s truly an event that takes four years of planning and hard work on the parents’ part,” said Swedhin. “The parents have a blast doing it for the kids and we hope that the kids want and look forward to the party as much as we do.”

It struck me as incredibly sad irony to have finally found this album behind Avril Lavigne. My head-shakes while pushing back copies of The Best Damn Thing should have illustrated it clearly. As of now, I can’t stop listening to The Opposite Side of the Sea by Oren Lavie.

Quirky, simple, and chirpy, the album starts with Her Morning Elegance. Made famous by a whimsical stop-motion viral video on YouTube, the introductory track is an odd, sunny piece in comparison to the rest of the album. The twitter A Quarter Past Wonderful bookends the album in the same way – even playfully ending the song with a hilarious rough-voiced grumbling. The album as a whole consists more often of deep, yet light songs themed around the rain, the ocean, troubled men, and the day-to-day beauties of a girl. It’s startling how uncomplicated yet how gripping this album is.

Lavie and his quartet achieve a staggering composition of soft vocals and orchestral cadences that evoke rainy mornings, distant sea storms, or even fruit.

Locked In A Room, Trouble Don’t Rhyme, A Short Goodbye, and The Man Who Isn’t There make up the more profound parts of the album. Melancholy, but okay with it, the tracks are whispery with inspiriting instruments and rhythms.

The album’s title track, The Opposite Side of the Sea, is the most thrilling piece – weaving intense strings with Lavie’s more passionate vocals.

The CD as a whole is soft yet intense. Everything is listenable and there are no wasted tracks. Though it becomes clear the first half of the lineup hosts some of the better material. At Blue Smile, it starts brushing the description “repetitious”, but A Quarter Past Wonderful immediately resets the situation and closes the album at an almost perfect A+.

Track List:

1. Her Morning Elegance
2. The Man Who Isn’t There
3. The Opposite Side of the Sea
4. Locked In A Room
5. Ruby Rises
6. A Dream Within A Dream
7. Trouble Don’t Rhyme
8. A Short Goodbye
9. Don’t Let Your Hair Grow Too Long
10. Blue Smile
11. A Quarter Past Wonderful

Preferring:

• The Opposite Side of the Sea
• Locked In A Room
• Her Morning Elegance
• The Man Who Isn’t There
• A Quarter Past Wonderful

Footloose will be performed on March 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st at 7PM. photo by Manny Perez.

Set for March 18th through 21st, Thomas Jefferson’s rendition of Footloose is ready to hit the stage.

The musical, based on the 1984 movie of the same name, tells the story of a teenager from Chicago moving to a small town which has banned dancing and rock-and-roll due to a local tragedy. TJ’s performance features a cast coming from other productions such as Chicago and Moon Over Buffalo, along with a host of new faces to the department. “I really love the cast. It’s a fabulous bunch of people led by some great leads and everybody throughout the company is doing a great job,” said Michael Palmieri, acting director for the play.

The original cast has changed several times – and as recently as last week – but now all directors see a unified group. “We got off to kind of a rough start because everyone didn’t realize quite what the expectation was, how high we set the bar, how hard we all have to work together to do that, but we’re starting to see that happening,” said Palmieri. “The good news is, because we have some new people, now that they’re on board, we’ll have a lot of them for a couple of years and it’ll only improve.”

The actors have been working for three months learning all original songs, dances, and acting parts. Lead actors Caleb Johnson and Natalee Pinson have seen a surge of exuberance the closer the show gets to the premier. “In the very beginning we had some issues, but now we’re making double time progress. The last couple weeks have been great practices. It’s actually coming out beautifully,” said Johnson.

“We’ve gotten very productive in the last few weeks,” said Pinson. “It’s just continuing to snowball, getting better and better.”

Musical director for the play, Edwina Herbert is enthusiastic about the show’s variety and dynamism. “The music to Footloose is super super fun. It’s fast, up-tempo, there’s disco, there’s rock and roll, there’s blues. It’s just genuinely fun, fun music,” said Herbert. The show will be featuring professional musicians, with students doing original voice work.  “Everybody who has a singing part is a total rock star. Everyone’s really excited to do an awesome show,” said Herbert.

“Everybody who has a singing part is a total rock star. Everyone’s really excited to do an awesome show.”

Wendy Doyle, dance director for Footloose is a new addition to the drama department. After Carole Fulkerson, original dance director for the play, had to withdraw, Doyle was happy to take up the role. “Anytime you’re trying to get twenty people to do the same thing can be difficult,” laughs Doyle. “But it’s going well, considering the time constraint we’re under. I think the kids are catching on to it; it’s just a lot of repetition and a lot more practice, and we’ll pull it off.”

Footloose will be performed on March 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st at 7PM in the Thomas Jefferson auditorium. Tickets are available in advance from any cast member or drama and choir teacher, or at the door. “The music is great, we have some wonderful people, I think it’s gonna be a really cool show,” said Palmieri.

Cast List
Caitlin Barley – Company
Andrew Becker – Company /Lyle/ Willard Hewitt
Melissa Fife – Vi Moore
Bethany Gillespie – Company/Lulu Warnickey
Whitney Hackbath – Company/Principal/Clark/Bickle
Shanel Hughes – Company/Travie/Cowgirl/ Ethel McCormack
Caleb Johnson – Ren McCormack
Kelly Lewis – Coach Dunbar
Megan Lussier – Wendy Jo
Sarah Martin – Rusty
D’Aaron Moore – Chuck Cranston
Alex Palmer – Company/Betty Blast/Cop
Manny Perez – Cowboy Bob
Gena Pinson – Company/Eleanor
Natalee Pinson – Ariel Moore
Dan Rios – Rev. Shaw Moore
Anna Romero – Urleen
Lorraine Seals-Williams – Company
Karysa Sorenson – Company

“Click”, a shutter snaps in Manhattan, 1972. A grizzled homeless man doesn’t notice his photograph being taken. The print appears nearly forty years later in a display of Michael Palmieri’s Cityscapes.

While taking a mixed media class in his freshman year at Boston College, Palmieri quickly fell in love with photography. It was a different era of cinematography and photography. Gigantic cameras on tripods, reel-to-reel video decks; the class worked both in black-and-white and color. “Photography was the one that tripped my trigger,” said Palmieri.

English teacher and Drama Director for the school, Palmieri is renowned as head director for TJ’s productions of 2008’s Chicago and Moon Over Buffalo. “Working as theatre director for the fall play and working with Mrs. Herbert and Mrs. Fulkerson for the spring musical takes up a lot of my time,” remarked Palmieri. “I love doing it, but it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for photography.” Recently though, Palmieri has had a chance between Buffalo and the up-coming musical Footloose to make up a small display featured in our very own TJ library.

“Every once in awhile I just push the button at the right time and in photography it’s part skill, part technique, part art, and part just getting lucky. I was riding shotgun in my friend PJ’s VW. Happened to have my camera handy with a roll of color slides in it. Traffic stopped. I looked up and I saw this man walking past this bar in Manhattan and I put the camera up to my eyes and snapped the shutter.”

“We’ve been tempting to involve more and more of the TJ population in the library and in displaying their art,” says TJ librarian Sudi Stodola. The newly refurbished library has been hosting a number of programs along with featuring student made artwork beside the books themselves. “By including Mr. Palmieri’s photographs we’re really pleased to see that more and more are recognizing this attempt to have new multi-media in the library and further an inclusion of the entire school community.”

At the time, Palmieri and school were two wildly opposing ideals.

“My freshman year at Boston College I fell in love with photography. Unfortunately… I had not yet fallen in love with studying,” chortles Palmieri. Boston College was not pleased. Speaking with his parents about not allowing him to return, Palmieri chirped in with a counter-proposal. “I would come back first semester junior year, enter at a good standing. And in return I asked for a semester to do an independent study project involving photography.” Boston College agreed to these terms; and starting in his junior year, Palmieri set off with a pack filled with some cash, clothes, and a Nikon and Leica camera to begin hitchhiking the east coast.

“Photography: it’s part skill, part technique, part art, and part just getting lucky.”

Philadelphia, New York, Washington DC, Miami; Palmieri would hit the streets photographing life in the city. “I enjoy photographing people. I enjoy photojournalism, you know, telling a story with pictures,” responds Palmieri. His shots are dark, intersecting with odd angles and shapes. Shadows are a main focus. There’s often a human center of attention. This being the turning point of the 70s, the people in his photos don fedoras, smoke cigarettes, Nixon is their President, and American men are on the moon. Palmieri comments on a few of his images which can currently be seen in the library.

“He’s got a blanket keeping him warm. There’s a cigarette in his hand. He’s sleeping against the loading dock, and I think it captures some of the essence of homelessness. Yet, he looks like he has a hat, he looks distinguished. Although his clothes are a little raggedy it’s obvious that he’s a viable human being, which I think we forgot about sometimes.”

    I really wish I hadn’t bought my MacBook in a bad mood.

    Don’t get me wrong though, I love my new laptop to death, but the ordeal I had to go through to obtain it was beyond “inconvenient” (as the folks at the Apple Store so lightly put it). It wasn’t completely their fault either – I’ll just point that out – but they did play their part in full-out antagonizing me along with a number of other individuals, whether animate or not. I’m not going to assume any religious view here, but if any higher power exists, they really took some steps to keep that Apple out of my reach.

     But first some back-story:

    In the beginning I was not an Honor Roll student. Then I was. Apparently I had missed some rather large award ceremony wherein every winner was invited to trip onto the stage and retrieve their gilded certificates first-hand. In its place, Coach Taylor, and apparent errand boy, presented me with my certificate no less unceremoniously in the middle of one of my classes, as if receiving a lunch detention. Branching out from that obligatory and half-interested celebration in Biology (“Everybody give Manny a round of applause!”), my father, later back at home, decided right then and there to buy me a new laptop.

    “But oh father,” I said with an exaggerated back-of-hand-to-forehead pose, “From where shall we gather fortunes to repay for such a monumental bestowal?”

    My dad, who was currently sitting in his underwear watching football, replied, “Nothing to disquiet you, Manuel, my eldest of sons, for I have been granted access to a magnificent set of shekels from that of the Governmental Administration!”

    Eyes widened, and with a new smile across my face, I asked with feigned surprise, “Hath we arrived on Taxmas already?”

    “Most certainly!” my dad boasted with a toothy grin. Taxmas is the one time every February when the US government, through some likely boring process I don’t understand, decides to give my dad large sums of money. I’ve learned to predict the event for several years now, and I always refrain from asking for things a few weeks in advance so I can be justified when I ask for expensive electronics.

    But this year… a laptop! I’ve been asking for one since forever, but it was really more of a piped-ream. Either way I took advantage of this temporary lapse in sanity my father was having and he instructed me to start doing some shopping to find the model I wanted.
   
    I’ve been using Macintosh computers ever since elementary school days when my teachers began instructing us in a then-highly important skill we needed to learn: typing. Employing a 3D animation game called Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing, my group of 4th graders were grouped into a room full of square and grey computers that froze only if something that wasn’t supposed to be done, was done on them. Like typing. Or moving the mouse. Or trying to use the Macintosh Computer in any way other than looking at its cement-like surface.
      Astonishingly, I never learned to type; at least not in the traditional manner (I still have to look at the keys), but I can still have my hands whizzing across the board at least half as fast as any educated typist. Okay, fine, any educated monkey typist. Okay, any educated monkey who really had no chance at all of typing anything that could possibly remotely resemble, even with an infinite amount of time, any work of Shakespeare’s.

    From there, though, Apple’s line of computers received only two notable changes worthy enough to write down: they started using white as a primary color motif and they started lasting enough time for me to type a few letters before they froze. This is when I started enjoying computers as tools rather than cheap purveyors of the Ludovico Technique.

    This would be the knowledge I look back on in choosing my first personal computer.

    And so it begins.
   
    I settle my ponderous thoughts and tell my father I want a MacBook. I’m going to refrain myself from spilling every tiny detail about the laptop, saving this piece from being nine pages of how glossy the screen is and how flat the keys are, but I will say it’s nice.

    There are basically only three versions of the MacBook: cheap, medium, and expensive (price depending on how much memory and which processors you want). They all have the glowing Apple logo on the back, all have teeny cameras built into them, all have Wifi capabilities; the differences, if any beside price, are negligible to me. I opt for the “cheap” $1000 model. We may be temporarily rich, but this in no way is going to be an easy purchase for my father. Maybe we can scrounge for some kind of Water World vacation next year.

    My father, though presently insane, is, and always will be, a strong believer in “shopping around”. Despite my frequent audible-thoughts that a laptop’s price is about as varying as pre-packaged “homemade” muffins, he encourages me to take a week to sample what is available on the Internet and to have a look around contactable stores.

    Taking a look at what online-shops the school’s filters let me touch (1 result), I arrive at Apple.com and stroll over to their product pages. Quickly finding my preferred MacBook, I click a few more times and am greeted by the product’s marked-down and exclusive online offered price: $999. Oh wow. My dad fortunately is allowed to save one entire dollar.

    We decide to forgo the use of the Web, and instead go out to find the Book as our ancestors would have: we go hunting. Before heading out, though, we do use the tiny scrap of the Internet that is applicable in this case: typing in “Apple Store Denver” into Google Maps, I hastily print out a location in Cherry Creek. That seems about right.

    My father has a plan. We have four locations to scout: Best Buy, CompUSA, the Apple Store from Google Maps, and the Apple Store in the Cherry Creek Mall (which we visited once before). There are two reasons for this order: they are in relation to the distance from my home, and the Apple Store in the mall is knowingly where the Book will be more expensive and thus last. Firing up the Grand Am – which takes a few minutes because you have to jiggle the key – we set out.

     Best Buy, famous purveyor of the Squad of Geeks, broken Guitar Hero demos, and future employer of Christina Danek, has no Apple computers. I remembered reading something on the store stocking Macs (which is why we were searching there), but looking back, it must have been an article on how they were soon to be stocking Apple computers. This was more of a mistake than I had anticipated; the store introduced my father to the idea of a cheap laptop. With the thought of a $1000 purchase looming over his head, watching him gravitate towards brands with names like “Tech Co.” had me mentally dragging him out of the store as he dug his fingernails into the bargain-basement carpet.

    I was NOT going to settle for a Windows PC after a week of giddy anticipation. I told him so and he thankfully agreed. We continued forward.

    CompUSA was much more productive; they did stock Apple computers. Or at least one, along with a couple of wires, a length of cable, and many, many emptied-out shelves piled atop each other. Unknown to me before entering the store, CompUSA had apparently gone bankrupt and was forced to sell everything in its possession at eye-catching clearance prices. Thus the store had been CLEARED-OUT and left as the bare bones of a once almighty computer nerd boutique.

    With some crazy luck I found a MacBook after sifting through the debris and, with the same degree of fortune, only in reverse, it’s black. Now, the color wouldn’t have been so terrible, but it was rather expensive, as it was one of the higher-end models, so I dismiss it and we head out the door toward our next destination.

    Once we’re on the road, I whip out the Google Map from my pocket and trace a path toward our destination. It’s in Cherry Creek, and by the looks of it, suspiciously close to the same Apple Store in the Cherry Creek Mall. But my doubts are diverted by a force much more powerful than any kind of manipulation I can muster: my father is hungry.

    “But FATHER,” I exclaim, “Can you not withhold your mere mortal desires? We are but at the cusp of reaching our destination, and in a paltry few moments, nay, instants, we can achieve our terminus! Sustenance can tarry!” This is of course a lie. I have little to no idea where the map will take us and I fully expect us to be in the store for at least an hour once we do find it. Dinner will be a long way off if we do buy the laptop first.

    My dad knows this oh too well and tells me this through a glare to his side. “I know what you are doing. We are eating. No discussion.” I mumble under my breath and play with my fingers as we swerve into the parking lot of Hoi Pay Skai: Dollar a Scoop Chinese.

    I was almost fully prepared to cross my arms and tap my foot as he orders our dinner of Styrofoam boxes filled with cheap and greasy Chinese food. But the smells overtook the best of me, and realizing my own hunger, I connected fork to noodles with as little indignation as I could pull off. Now, full and still hysterically impatient, we spring into the Grand Am (or at least I do), and speed off (or at least I imagine) towards Cherry Creek.

    But the car is bobbing a bit to the left and it’s making a weird clunking sound. “No” I say quietly to myself as my eyes widen in horror. My father pulls over onto a residential street. “No” I repeat a little louder, as if the words will command the car into returning to the roads. My dad opens the trunk and takes out a spare tire. “NOOO!” I yell as I jump out of the car to help my dad fix the flat tire.

    Changing a flat is painstaking. Every wheel is fastened to the axle by a number of bolts that require a Herculean amount of pressure to be unscrewed. To unscrew them, one has to use a large steel X to twist each one off, and then on again once the spare is in place. I was the Hulk for those fifteen minutes we took prying off those bolts. Whether it was me yanking the X backwards as if pulling back a runaway train or slamming it downwards with my feet like an insane orangutan, I put every fiber of my materialistic being into changing that tire.

    Once we were back into the commercial streets I could focus my slightly delusional attention on outlining a straight path towards our mapped Apple Store. But as we drew nearer and nearer to Point B, my suspicions started to gain some ground. The neighborhood was mostly commonplace residential houses, a few chic mom-and-pop stores with names like Dog Dog, and many green parks, not the kind of place an Apple Store would be located. Or at least not an electronics-selling Apple Store. Suppose the Apple Store we were looking for, in actuality, sold apples? We stop just outside the exact address. There are baskets of fruit in the windows. We drive away.

    And so, my journey ends in front of the legit Apple Store in the Cherry Creek Mall: incredibly trendy, incredibly expensive, and incredibly breathtaking as I see my model sitting on an oblong table further in. My pace having accelerated threefold since first leaving my house, I zoom towards the MacBook and start playing with the track pad and iSight camera that are so familiar to me now. My father eventually bumbles his way through the mass of people playing with iPods and MacBook Airs and reaches me as I’m fiddling with the Book. I half discuss with him, half to myself, about what applications I’m going to needs afterward and how the first thing I need to do is install Firefox on this thing.

    While I’m entertaining myself with the Photo Booth program, my dad takes to lifting up the small card to the side of the computer that displays the price. I see a slight grimace. My father has promised me an Apple laptop and he would sooner throw himself in front of a truck full of hammers before telling me he wouldn’t; but in any case, if my dad would prefer a bit more convincing before taking the leap, I call over an Apple employee.

    Her name is Barbara and she is distinguishable amongst the crowd only from a nametag/necklace that bears the Apple logo. She is pleasant and everything, explaining to my father and me the basics of the Macs, much of which I know already, but I’m attentive if only for my father’s sake. She has a very soft voice though, and by the time she withdraws for a moment to leave us room to discuss between ourselves, I find myself repeating everything she says back to my dad who hasn’t understood a thing. I sigh, hopefully for the last time this evening, and I question if we should ask for an estimate on price.

    “Is it truly your most coveted possession in this emporium?” my dad asks one final time – just to make sure. “Yes, of course,” I say, as we both start grinning. We gesture for Barbara and, acknowledging our request, she professionally punches in an estimate on the calculator widget on one of the iMacs. This takes a while, as Barbara needs to consult with a few managers concerning how much tax charges here in the US (It’s 7.7% sweetie), eventually snowballing into an issue involving the extras of insurance, a broken cash register, and a terrifying fumble.

    But by the bit at the end, my father is handing over his credit card, and Barbara says, “Sorry for the inconvenience.” I’m tempted to tear-up a few manila envelopes in her face. I refrain, simply gripping the handle of my MacBook box, and my dad and I both walk out into the bustling mall and later into the dark and twinkling evening.

And I drop it.
(No, I don’t. But imagine how horrific that would have been.)

    Ask yourself one question before purchasing a bottle of water: are you paying $1.25 for the bottle, or the water?

If you’re buying it for the water, you fail. It’s water, the most abundant liquid on the face of the Earth. It’s not so rare; people actually die from drowning in it. Never buy more than one bottle of water.

    Though, due to DPS’s new drink policy, and TJ’s five-year contract with Pepsi, water may be the only sensible choice. Diet drinks may make us cry for calories, but times get hard, study halls become dry, Coach Owens requires many laps. So who’s to sort through the seas of fructose concoctions to find the elixir of the gods? The TJ Journal of course. Below is a review every drink currently available.

Diet Pepsi
Tasting like Pepsi that has been left out for a while, with a heavy aftertaste, and a strong diet flavor – Diet Pepsi seems to be an acquired taste. Only good for the first split second before the dextrose flavoring attacks, this prescription fails to impress.
Rating: 6

Diet Mountain Dew
Not branching far from the eternal favorite, this diet version of Mountain Dew stays close to the original formula. Not as sweet and as fizzy, but with a very similar flavor, Diet Mountain Dew lacks the “diet” taste from which a lot of beverages suffer from.
Rating: 8

Sierra Mist Free
On par with “sparkling water”, Sierra Mist Free tastes good – though noticeably diluted compared to the original. Still refreshing, and with no real aftertaste, it’s an adequate substitute to the real thing.
Rating: 7

Dr Pepper Diet
Stale, bland, and with a weak flavor, Dr Pepper Diet misses on most of what made the original great – mainly tasting like something. A shadow of a once-great, bold tasting mixture, Dr Pepper Diet should be avoided if only for the strange aftertaste.
Rating: 4

Diet Pepsi with Cherry
Though not without its faults; foamy, sweet, and fruity, Diet Pepsi with Cherry is what all diet drinks strive to be. Leaps and bounds better than regular Diet Pepsi, with a cherry lining that carries over and muffles the aftertaste, DP with Cherry is a fantastic choice.
Rating: 8

Tropicana Light – Berry
Accurately described as a “Vitamin Water spin-off failure,” Tropicana Light is pretty light. Watery, with an odd flavor-death about halfway between a sip, and with thoughts of fruity cough syrup not too far off, Tropicana Light is best taken with a cold.
Rating: 4

Flavor Splash – Citrus Blend
What seems to be marketed as water that used to have a lemon in it, Flavor Splash – Citrus Blend has almost no flavor at all. Paired with a “surprise” aftertaste that only emerges a few seconds after drinking, this beverage could easily be substituted with a trip to the fountain where someone left an old lemon rind sitting out.
Rating: 5

Flavor Splash – Raspberry
Citrus Blends’ sister drink, Raspberry, decently pulls off flavor subtlety, and though the raspberry taste is stronger, smoother, and without an aftertaste – it still tastes artificial. FS Raspberry is overall simply “decent.”
Rating: 7

Aquafina Alive Wellness Water – Peach Mango (AKA Orange Lime)
Aquafina Alive does not want you to purchase its products; at least the ones they advertise. Besides having the Berry Pomegranate variety always vend a flavor of Propel, Orange Lime actually works under the pseudonym “Peach Mango.” Unfortunately, it’s still disgusting and similar to drinking a liquefied Ricola lozenge.
Rating: 3

Propel – Kiwi-Strawberry
All three Propels are basically the same combination of diluted Gatorade and sucrose – but as they’re the only monopolistic sports drink available, they serve adequately as thirst quenchers. Kiwi-Strawberry is the best of the trio – sweet without tasting too “fruit punchy.”
Rating: 7

Propel – Berry
Propel Berry may as well find its own crowd; the flavor is above average, but that’s about it. A round of applause for generic berry flavor?
Rating: 6

Propel – Grape
The definite worst of the three, Propel Grape is very upfront with its taste – like drinking a bottle of melted popsicles.
Rating: 5

Diet Lipton – Green Tea
One of the better options available, Diet Lipton Green Tea, is very organic tasting; though the manufactured sugar takes a few sips to get used to. Garnished with lemon, Green Tea tastes like actual tea!
Rating: 8

Diet Lipton – White Tea
Overpowering, with a bombardment of dextrose, and a creepily tangy aftertaste, White Tea offers no advantages over Diet Lipton’s other option.
Rating: 4

    Overall, be wary of your purchases. The vending machines are infamous for their talent at delivering everything but what’s asked for – not to mention Aquafina Alive Berry Pomegranate’s non-existence.
    On a related note: the vending machine way in the back, the last one at the end of the auditorium, serves the coldest drinks. Our sample of Propel had ice chunks in it.

by Manny Perez

    Everyone loves when regular TV shows mix-up their air times, right? No? Yeah, well me neither. Lost, in the spirit of “ABC’s All-New Thursdays”, has decided it will be airing from now till May 29th at 9 pm instead of the regular 8 pm; thus throwing this reporter into at least one high-speed chase trying to get home on time, only to learn he still has an hour to spare.

9:07 – Good old Lost Island seaside. Jack is feeling off due to this completely warped schedule and is thus taking some medication to ease the pain. Kate welcomes herself into the tent and she starts talking with Jack about why Sayid isn’t back from the boat, but before too long Bernard is yelling for help from the shore. Apparently he sees dead people. Someone is floating facedown in the water, but no worry, it’s just the stupid doctor from the boat we all hate.

Meanwhile OTOSOTI (On the other side of the island) Locke, Sawyer, and Hurley, are playing Risk before being interrupted by an automated phone call “Code 14-J.” Taking their time, they go ask Ben if he would like to sign-up for a free MasterCard. At this, Ben jumps, grabs and pumps a shotgun, and tells the three to head over to the other house. “They’re here”.

We are treated to another “eye flashback” to the Sahara Desert. Ben is wearing a fur-lined coat and vomiting. Before too long two Saharans appear on horseback and try to capture him. As they frisk him, Ben, complying, reveals a small and harmless black tube-thing. Spinning in place he completely owns his arrester with a whack to the head with his extendable and very harmful tube-thing. He then uses him as a shield before the other Saharan can shoot him. Ben then knocks him off his horse, kills him, and then rides off on one of the horses. Ben is officially cool.

9:25 – The Locke Lot are fortifying the house, but before too long the military, aka the captain from the boat and the captured Alex, arrives. Three random Losties are almost instantly shot down outside as Sawyer ducks and jumps trying to get to Clair’s house – Aaron safe with Hugo at the moment. Her building is then hit with a missile and collapses.

Tozeur, Tunisia, Ben is asking for assistance at a hotel desk under an alias. Being the special guest he is, he asks the year before seeing Sayid on TV. It’s 2005 and Sayid is married – or was anyway, seeing as he’s off to attend Nadia’s funeral.

Back at Otherville, Ben, Locke, Hugo, and Aaron are staking-out and keeping away from the windows. Clair, much to the dismay of many people, I’m sure, is still alive and is hauled back to the house by Sawyer. As the group is huddling and awaiting the army to either charge-in or launch a missile, we hear the doorbell. Ah, it’s a recently-freed Miles – with a walkie-talkie. “They wanna talk.”

9:37 –Watching a middle-eastern funeral from a rooftop, Ben assembles a camera and starts taking shots of a bald guy. He then turns his lens toward the funeral only to find Sayid look up at him at the exact same time. Running out on the roof, Sayid tackles him and demands xplanations. Ben is apparently tracking down Nadia’s killer – the bald guy.

Miles is babbling, tries a lame divide-and-conquer, then tells about how they have Alex. This grabs Ben’s attention and he agrees to talk to the Captain, though with hesitance. After a bit of arguing, which Ben obviously wins (He’s Ben, remember?), the Captain brings out Alex at gunpoint. Ben proposes a counter-proposal – GO AWAY. “She means nothing to me,” Ben says wide-eyed.
Mark shoots Alex.

9:47 – Alex is on the ground and Ben is basically paralyzed. “He changed the rules,” he says softly. Going into one of his many hidden BenCaves before Sawyer can grab him, we get a flash-forward.

Drinking tea, Ben is following Ishmael, the bald guy, and Nadia’s murderer, through a busy market and into an alley. Ishmael loses him, turns the tables, and Ben gets cornered. Before Ben can get his message across to him, Sayid empties his pistol into Ishmael. “Who’s next?” he asks Ben.

Back in the house Ben comes back dirty and a bit ruffled. He has released The Monster and, charging like a huge locomotive made of electricity and smoke, it eats the Army. But before running off into the forest like the rest of the Lot in the house – Ben says goodbye to Alex.

Back on the beach, Daniel is literally sending a telegraph through the SatPhone in Morse code, as Jack has requested. Daniel, being incredibly honest says the helicopter is coming soon and that they are not to worry. Bernard, the know-it-all, accuses Daniel of being a liar, and correctly translates the Morse; “What are you talking about? The doctor is fine.” Jack is then mean to poor Daniel and he rudely asks him if he is going to help the survivors at all. “No.” says Daniel.

OTOSOTI, they’re in the forest and off to see Jacob. “I don’t know why I ever followed you wackos in the first place,” says Sawyer before going back to Jack’s camp, along with Clair and Hugo. But Locke needs Hugo to get to Jacob. They argue over him – pistol to pistol. Trying to avoid more disagreement, Hugo stays with Locke. So they’re off to see the Wizard with Ben, “Follow me.”

London, England – Ben enters a fancy penthouse suite. Charles Widmore is sleeping in his bed. Charles argues that Ben is not the victim; HE killed Alex. No matter, Ben has decided he will kill Penelope. “You’ll wish you hadn’t changed the rules.”

Afterthoughts:
    Although it wasn’t exactly good enough to justify a two-week hiatus, or the stupid schedule change, I liked the episode. The Monster finally decides to make an over due appearance. Ben is finally turning away from his quiet evilness to his cool evilness. And we even get to see Daniel some more.
    One thing I’m starting to notice is that a lot of people are dying now, but due to the rather huge cast, I’m starting to not care much. Sure, Alex was interesting and all, but emotionally her death was kinda empty. I’m not sure if the writers simply need to whittle down the chaotic aspect of the show (see the overabundance of OTOSOTIs), or that death is just good television. Either way, if it keeps going in this direction, I’ll start caring when it’s down to Vincent the Dog and Ben. Vincent will win, obviously.

    After judging and accepting officially nominated work from almost a dozen different schools, and countless entrants, judges of the Denver Public Schools High School Art Exhibition awarded TJ artists top honors and featured spots in the show. 

    The Annual Art Show invites artists from all the DPS High Schools to enter their more upscale pieces for the public eye, and to compete for awards (mediums from ceramics to jewelry are included). Each high school is allowed to submit up to 15 pieces of artwork. Students took at least an entire semester to finish their masterpieces beforehand.

    Art teachers Catherine Salazar and Brooke Stoyer were asked to nominate students for the show beforehand, choosing some of their pupils’ best work and sending them in for panel judgment. “You look at a car or a house or something and people fail to notice from where that object came: an artist. Well here, my students’ take that same level of passion and transform it into the pieces we see now,” said Salazar about her students work.

    Morgan Dorn won both the Best of Show and 1st place in the Ceramics division with his piece Schism, a large green pot resembling a nest of intertwined snakes.

    Schism, an 18-inch coil vessel, was a favorite among the judges. “I decided, after I started, that it would be cool if it had snake heads popping out. So, it has got snake heads sticking out randomly so it looks like a big coil – like a bundle of snakes,” said Dorn. “I hope that they see that it’s not just an off-the-shelf pot; it’s a handi-craft and a piece of art.”

    Ben Makovsky, who garnered recognition last fall at the Core gallery, won 3rd place in Ceramics with his entry, Deep Ecology, a large camouflage-colored turtle.

    Sean Reifman, who was featured at the Core gallery alongside Makovsky, was also awarded an Honorable Mention for his work titled Form and Function along with three other of his thrown ceramic forms. All of his work being capable of everyday use but still exhibiting flowing form and outstanding design.

    Along with the officially honored artists, several others are showcased at the exhibit along side them. Kira Rodriguez submitted Caution: Radioactive Substance, which is a large ceramic pot with faces covering the outside and a green, almost toxic looking substance melting over them. Michael Degregori entered a mask symbolizing the essence of yin and yang titled Melding of Elements. Roxanne was Patrick Taylor’s appreciated work that can be described as a small red dragon.

    The show opened yesterday to the public and will be open through Friday, May 2nd at the Wellington E. Webb Municipal Building at 201 West Colfax Avenue; atrium hours are 8:00 am to 5:00 pm Monday through Friday. Reception for the artists will be held two weeks later on Tuesday, April 29th from 5:00 pm to 7:30 pm.

Club Statement
“The Sit-N-Knit club is dedicated to providing a creative and fun environment where knitters of all levels can get together and share their talents. Whether you have never cast a single stitch or you are an experienced knitter who has expertise to offer, this is the place for you. Our purpose is to foster creativity and collaboration in a comfortable environment.” – TJ High School Librarian Sudi Stodola

The Setting
    The Sit and Knit Club meets in the library on the top floor of the school. Most of the walls of the very large rectangular space are lined with bookshelves made from some pine-ish wood. Nearly all of the tables and chairs are made of the same material and so the entire room feels unified and matching. Specifically, the club meets on the table nearest the librarian’s desk for mobility convenience. The place is quiet and calm and is the ultimate atmosphere for concentrated work.

Operation: Back Loop
    I was a bit late as I dashed through the library’s security checkers. Previously I was speaking to Mr. Almond about the elaborate details of Lost and I seemed to have rambled long enough to forget the time. Luckily though, I quickly realized what was happening and arrived a few seconds later at the first ever Sit and Knit Club meeting.

    Sudi Stodola, the resident librarian and founder of the club, is at her usual desk as she points me to one of the tables to her left. There, sitting and knitting  (unsurprisingly), I meet the young Ruyi Du, who is busily intent on looping some yarn around two sticks, which is completely alien to me. I try not to distract her focus at that exact moment and I look around at what is lying on the table.

    There is a large square basket containing a dozen or so balls of yarn, about five paper bags, which I assume hold some kind of food, chopsticks, scissors, and a bag of goldfish crackers. After taking a mental picture of the scene for future reference I turn towards the pleasant looking girl sitting across the table and ask her name. Seemingly just realizing my presence, she quickly looks up from detangling a sewing error, and introduces herself as Ruyi Dun. She tells me that she has been knitting for about half a year already and asks me how long I’ve been at it. I explain to her that I’m actually a reporter for the Journal and that this would be the first time I touch yarn with any constructive idea in mind. “It’s not that hard,” she informs me as she twirls the string around her little plastic needles in complex formations that make me blink a few times. I have doubts.

    Having finally finished all her librarian duties, and providing me a few minutes to wave the sticks around yelling "Avada Kedavra!”, Mrs. Stodola walks over from her desk and officially places me in the club, handing me one of the paper bags in the basket. I learn that they don’t hold food (much to my dismay) but instead carry an assortment of knitting essentials. Rummaging through it I find a pair of chopsticks (“We call them knitting needles”), a thick plastic card thing called a “Count Ten Plus” (which measures stitches or something), metal stitch holders, a package of plastic needles, scissors, and in addition, Mrs. Stodola throws in a few soft ring things I doubt have purpose to a newbie. This would be my very own starter kit I can keep and have forever. I’m honestly overjoyed about it, though, taking into account my current expertise, it is about as effective as handing me a blowtorch and asking me to create something beyond a mound of melted metal.

    Upon hearing this, Mrs. Stodola smiles, repeats Ruyi’s encouragement, and lifts up her knitting needles in a manner of asking me to do the same. I clink my two needles in a crossed position and she tells me how bamboo is the preferred material for needles by the “experts”; they don’t poke through the yarn, they’re immensely comfortable to hold, and they only improve over time. Looking more closely at mine, I notice why all of these would be true and I think: tools. I think: wands. I think: swords! “Ok. I’m ready,” I say, refraining from swinging them around in a fashion that screams “dual-wield”.

We begin.

    At Mrs. Stodola’s request, I pick out a color of yarn and she ties the first pink knot around one of my needles and instructs me in the next steps. Doing so, I wrap the yarn in the specified method and before I realize it, I have a stitch. I’m ecstatic – that is until I’m asked to do it again. My teacher laughs and helps me once again. The process reminds me of the first time I tried learning to tie my shoes, except this time my laces are very, very, long and I’m not allowed to touch them with my hands. Instead I’m only given sticks with which to tie them. I realize knitting is like playing soccer with golf clubs.

    I keep tying stitches, with Mrs. Stodola’s aid of course, and by the sixth knot I’ve memorized the intricacies and I try one by myself. I accomplish the four steps with little error and am overjoyed. I attempt another, but having had my mind wiped from the simple excitement, I half-forget the steps once again, and I crawl back to Mrs. Stodola for more assistance. She laughs, and wisely instructs me on the next movement. I finish up a few more, containing myself, and by then I have twelve beautiful pink stitches.

    The next step is to transfer the dozen to my other needle and, beside the final stitch, I do so rather uneventfully. After the transfer I need to knit another dozen, and so on and so on until I have something that hopefully resembles a scarf.

    By about an hour in, I’ve made quite a bit of progress and have created some sort of structure made-up of tangles. I’m speaking to Ruyi and Mrs. Stodola (“So, I sez to Mabel, I sez…”), and being the very gesture-based communicator that I am, I sweep my hands around as I speak, and apparently also while I knit. This is when, by a very unfortunate motion of my hands, I scrape my two needles together and propel my entire work flying onto the table. Terror-struck, I stop mid-sentence as I stare at the now unrecognizable pile of yarn I had worked on for the past hour, slumped before me. Ruyi and Mrs. Stodola both sit agape for a second before bursting into laughter. Mrs. Stodola gingerly lifts up my pile, eyes it for a few moments and then says, to my relief, “I think we can still save it.” Positioning my needle, she slips twelve of the loops around it, and I begin to breath again.

The Specifics
“We are into skill-building and information sharing and just having fun. So come join us after school on Wednesdays from 3:00 to 4:30. We welcome your presence,” said Mrs. Stodola.

Left: Scarf in its amazing first stages.

    After winning big in last week’s Powerball, TJ’s beloved principal is moving on to greener pastures.

    On an easygoing Tuesday afternoon, after a hard day’s work, TJ Principal Sandra Just returned home and sat in front of her television, not knowing that her life had been changed. That would forever be the day that Mr. TJ won her millions.

    Just recalled the day she bought that winning ticket. It had been a long day of preparation for Mr. TJ, which involved teaching 20 bulky senior boys the delicate basics of ballet, for the dance part of the competition. “I was deeply disturbed, as well as mentally exhausted by 7th hour, and I decided taking a break to buy a lottery ticket would be a welcome diversion," Just recalls. "It was just an average Tuesday–nothing special like Christmas, or New Years’, or April Fools’ Day."

    Just has big plans for the record $115 million she was awarded. "I’ve always really wanted to go to Tibet and live with the monks," she said. "It’s a life of peace and serenity that you just cannot find in the city, and I want to experience it, especially after three years of harrowing experiences working in a school." Just has already planned a massive six-year excursion along the countryside of Tibet, including a tour of the Siberian hills. "Before I dedicate my life to monk-hood, I really think it’s important to get an idea of what the area is like. I have always wanted to explore the frozen deserts of Asia and now, thanks to Powerball, I will finally have that opportunity." Just, after her stint with the monk brotherhood, plans on using her remaining funds to scale Everest and K-2 (Africa’s largest mountain). "I want to take everything one step at a time," she said, "but I have a lot that I want to do."

    "The thing that I will miss most of all," reflects Just, "is the tardies. The joy of my life is the short time I’ve spent in the halls corralling students to their classes so as to avoid hall sweeps." Just will do her best to remain in touch with the new principal of TJ, sending monthly messages via carrier pigeon. "I want to stay in touch and see how the new principal likes the hall sweeps," she said. "After all, there won’t be any hall sweeps at the monastery."

    While selecting a new principal is usually a lengthy and complicated task for school administrators, TJ is very fortunate this year to have the Democratic National Convention coming to Denver in August. We will have millions of candidates practically at our doorstep. After all, anyone crazy enough to face the perils of a mob of 50 thousand political fanatics is well on their way to being crazy enough to handle a thousand high schoolers.

    The frozen tundra is greener on the other side for TJ’s favorite principal, and winning the lottery may just be the best thing that has never happened to Sandra Just.