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Top of the LineEditor's Note: Daniel McCloskey is a writer, artist, and the founder of Pittsburgh's The Cyberpunk Apocalypse, a writers' co-op that has hosted Quail Bell Magazine in the past. Here is an excerpt from an email he recently sent out to his friends, asking them to spread the word about his latest project. McCloskey was recently in a serious bicycle accident that landed him in the hospital. He has since returned home and is hard at work on his comic.
Top of the Line is the story of a kid growing into a hero, and in the process becoming a terrible human being. It's also kind of about a guy riding a bike and missing teeth (oddly) but this guy chops the heads off genetically engineered monsters with a sword. The comic series is 8 issues, around 250 pages, features color issues and inserts, and will include pinup illustrations by artists like JIM RUGG, Nate McDonough, Kevin Czapiewski, Juan Fernandez, and Steph Neary. Because of my wreck, and forthcoming dental bills, this Kickstarter for this project just got a lot more important for me, and I'm kind of nervous about it. Any help spreading the word would be really appreciated. The Kickstarter is live now, but I'm doing an online 24 hour draw-a-thon to officially launch the comic from noon Nov 20th to noon Nov 21st with Pittsburgh local guest artists dropping by to announce limited bonus awards throughout that time. The whole thing will stream live on my website here. The Kickstarter is here. Check out the first four issues of Top of the Line posted online: 1 2 3 4 Thank you all for your support. -Dan The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Aqua-lungBy Helen Georgia Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com A trip to Lake Rawlings in Virginia's Dinwiddie County might just remind you that there's a whole other world under the water. Dive up to 65 feet or simply squiggle on like a squid and explore the martian territory in your scuba gear. Swimming through a school bus or an airplane is just one adventure you might have. The Quail Bell Crew's only warning? Lake monsters are real. -CS
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Our Alien LiaisonFor Orfeo Angelucci, his strange career as a spokesperson for the aliens watching Earth reportedly began on August 4, 1946 with an amateur science experiment. Born in Trenton, New Jersey to a working-class Italian American family, Angelucci was a sickly child with a history of childhood illness. Diagnosed with “constitutional inadequacy” as a child, his poor health left him with recurring migraine headaches as well as a peculiar sensitivity to thunderstorms. Despite having to leave school early due to poor health and family financial problems, he continued to study science in his spare time until a complete physical breakdown forced him to give up his job. After nearly two years in hospital, he eventually returned to work and resumed his amateur science experiments. While his experiments may have been somewhat offbeat, there was no doubting his enthusiasm. Angelucci had a particular fascination with how electricity and thunderstorms affected humans and even wrote an enthusiastic letter to then-President Franklin Roosevelt about his discoveries. In the letter, he insisted that the “range paralysis” he saw in chickens was related to atmospheric static conditions and suggested that this might be relevant to the treatment of polio. He never received an answer. In the fateful 1946 experiment, Angelucci tried to launch samples of the fungus, Aspergillis clavatus, into the upper atmosphere in a homemade weather balloon. He hoped to study how the fungus was changed by atmospheric conditions but the balloon broke away from the mooring and was lost along with his fungus samples. As he would later describe, Angelucci and the family members who had gathered to watch the balloon launch saw what appeared to be a flying saucer hover overhead. When the balloon went up, the saucer apparently followed it until both were lost from sight. No trace of the balloons or the fungus samples were ever found. After moving to California (where he heard there were fewer thunderstorms), Angelucci attempted to break into the movie industry by writing his own script about a trip to the moon (no studios expressed any interest though). He finally went to work for the Lockheed Corporation doing fabrication work while continuing scientific research in his spare time. Along with self-publishing a thesis titled “The Nature of Infinite Energies” describing his theories on “atomic evolution, suspension and involution," he also wrote several letters to Linus Pauling outlining his theories on biology and nuclear causation. Pauling wrote several letters back politely thanking him but adding that he had no comments he could make on these theories. With the advent of the “flying saucer” craze in 1948, Angelucci became fascinated with the various sightings being reported. His own flying saucer event occurred on May 23, 1952 after he left the Lockheed plant early in the morning (he was working the night shift.) In the statement he later wrote about his experience, he began experiencing “prickling sensations” while driving home that felt as if his old medical problems were returning. Angelucci then saw a “red-glowing, oval-shaped object” in the sky which he decided to follow. On a deserted part of the highway, he saw two smaller objects detach themselves and approach his car. A clear voice told him, “Don’t be afraid, Orfeo, we are friends” and instructed him to get out of the car. The two smaller objects were apparently meant for communication. After reassuring him of their friendly intentions, he was told that the aliens had been watching him ever since his 1946 balloon experiment. The voice then told him to “drink from the crystal cup you will find on the fender of your car, Orfeo!” And, sure enough, there was a goblet on his car fender filled with a liquid. Angelucci reported, “It was the most delicious beverage I had ever tasted. I drained the cup. Even as I was drinking a feeling of strength and well-being swept over me and all of my unpleasant symptoms vanished.” The goblet vanished after he replaced it on the fender. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Bookish HideawaySecret book boxes. These are the stuff of old whodunits, with cursed and precious jewels hiding in the library of mysterious mansions. The only word to describe it is cool. I've tried my hand three times at making book boxes in the past. At first, I simply used an X-Acto knife to cut out hundreds of individual pages, but it is a very time consuming process and your hands get really tired. Last year I attacked a book with power tools, and learned what not to do! Don't worry, though. I just helped a friend make her own book box and now I can (finally) show you how to make a nice book box using a drill, two screws, a scroll saw, and some glue! The project takes around half an hour to complete, but you'll want to let it dry overnight. Begin by taking a destroyable book. What is a destroyable book? Something like a Reader's Digest Abridged book, which has a beautiful cover but it generally rubbish inside. Do NOT destroy good books. You'll make bibliophiles like me die a little inside. Fold back the cover and a few pages from the front and back of the book.
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Lusting After Morticia's GownI was supposed to swoon over Marilyn Monroe's white dress from The Seven Year Itch, the one that scandalously reveals her thighs as she stands over the air vent. At least Dorothy's gingham dress from The Wizard of Oz should've tickled me more. Instead, it was Morticia's gown from The Addams Family—1991, Anjelica Huston, Raul Julia, kiddie Christina Ricci, you know the one—that mesmerized me. I was shuffling through the press preview of “Hollywood Costume” at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. It was the morning of my 25th birthday and, sheesh, this Scorpio could've gawked at that Ruth Myers goth gem forever. Aubergine and black brocade, tattered sleeve-ends, elegant train, black silk crepe scarf, etc. Delish. I'm denying you a photo because you have to experience the costume in person. Seeing an underexposed cell phone pic here versus seeing the real deal is like the difference between exchanging a quick text and having a sincere, face-to-face conversation. Of course, if you've watched The Addams Family, you already have a frame of reference.
Keep in mind, however, that film costumes are designed for a two-dimensional world where they won't necessarily be seen from every angle. They're also designed to work with the lighting set-up the director and cinematographer have chosen. As such, many costumes lack that same cinematic magic in real life, while others are so elaborate that the screen cannot possibly capture their full glory. I was surprised to note that Morticia's gown, for instance, was much redder and far more detailed than I would've guessed. Hollywood get-ups also tend to be fragile; they're not made to last and they're not usually carefully stored once shooting ends. More often than not, they get altered and reused for another production or tragically thrown out. That's all a long-winded way of saying, catch the show. Other pieces that struck me were Kate Winslet's costumes from Titanic and anything and everything Keira Knightley ever wore...ever. (Go figure.) All the other press hypes clothes from The Birds, My Fair Lady, Superman, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and The Dark Knight Rises, but I AM TELLING YOU: Do. Not. Miss. Morticia's. Gown. “Hollywood Costume” is at the VMFA's NewMarket and Altria Group Galleries through February 17, 2014. Organized by the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, the show will also travel to the Phoenix Art Museum in Arizona in March. Richmond and Phoenix are the exhibit's only U.S. locations. So what are you waiting for DMV fledglings? Chances are you'll never see this again. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Moody Kind of Fun in the SunNovember 1937—Young women look out on Kalapana Black Sand Beach in Hawaii. The beach gets its black color from volcanic lava. Photograph by Richard Hewitt Stewart for National Geographic.
Source and copyright: National Geographic Found The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Win Yourself New Seahorse BaublesRed Lintu offers jewelry made from natural stone, freshwater pearls, and repurposed vintage materials—and, fledglings, it can be yours. See these seahorse earrings? They're made from nickel-free brass and pale labradorite stones. Now imagine them dangling from your earlobes. Just "like" Red Lintu's Facebook page and share the above photo (also on their Facebook wall) for a chance to win! The winner's name will be drawn at random on November 27th. Give yourself something other than turkey for Thanksgiving.
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A Muir Woods ExperienceThe Muir Woods of Mill Valley, California are stunning. Located between mountains, the national park's hikes lead you from the cool, crisp bottom of a redwood grove to the tops of tall trees and vast ocean and bay views. I had been there before. Last Christmas when our parents visited, we stay at an inn on the slope of the mountain. The innkeeper had told us about a brewery and bavarian beer garden that opens to the public only four hours a month, The Tourist Club, and you can hike from the bottom of the mountain to get there. Albeit, you can drive there too, but what’s the fun in that? So this past weekend, after a meeting of new friends, I found myself back on the same redwood trail I hiked the year before, but THIS TIME, I was en route to the aforementioned beer garden, beyond stoked to be on another adventure where I hardly knew most of the people I was with. My favorite kind, for sure. This particular day was perfect weather, and the hike was strenuous enough that I felt like I had truly worked for the beer a was about to pound at the end of the trail. The arrival was epic, as we approached the beer house from the top and realized how absolutely jam packed it was. But so calm. Groups of people picnicked on decks overlooking the redwoods, and played childhood games provided by the club. Everyone was happy, laughing, and thankful for having the opportunity to enjoy such an exclusive and wonderful experience. You could feel it in the air. Just pure, beer-drunk joy. After a few hours of downing pitchers of crisp, fresh brews and drinking games that I hadn’t played in years, the party drew to a close, as it was late, and the club was prepping to hibernate from the public for another month. Fairly tipsy, we stumbled out of the beer garden, and soon realized there was no way we could walk back onto the 2-mile woods trail with the sun going down. Didn’t really plan that one out. Whoops. “Luckily” we ran into an older member of the club, a total hippy, who told us he new a direct path back to entrance, about a ten minute walk, but then refused to tell us where, and just disappeared, leaving us there to figure it out on our own. So we walked, somewhat conscious of the fact that we had no idea where we were.
By the time we found a sense of legitimate hope, it was pitch black and we only had our adjusting eyes to see the white lines in front of us, directing us down the dark windy mountain road. Forty five minutes to an hour later and we found the car that would take us back to the city. I was relieved knowing my bed was waiting for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t possibly excited about the thought of being utterly lost, having to sleep in the woods. But I’m weird and wannabe rugged like that. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Gutsy Girls of World War I By Misty Thomas QuailBellMagazine.com Washington, D.C. author and historian, Jo-Ann Power, has released a new book about nurses and their roles in World War I. It's called Heroic Measures and it's a novel about a Cinderella-orphan turned military nurse. Through character Gwen Spencer's story of love and madness, Heroic Measures takes the readers into the lives of the incredibly courageous women who volunteered to join the Army Nurse Corps and leave their homes and lives to care for the wounded soldiers in the war. Power did years of research on this top and spent weeks traveling around European battlefields to get the real life feel for what it was like for the nurses who gave their time (and in some cases, their lives) to help the brave men in the war. The novel's details focus on the conditions that these women endured and the horrific sights they witnessed on a daily basis. The book also focuses on gender inequalities, such as the menial pay that these women received to heal the men of war. More on the book and the author at Jo-AnnPower.com. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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A House Turns to RockHere's a nice witch story from the Mohegans of Connecticut that anthropologist Frank Speck published in 1904. The English settlers weren't the only ones who believed in witches, and the local Indian groups maintained their own witch folklore well after the area was thoroughly colonized by the British. The story goes something like this: Many years ago an old Mohegan woman set out to walk all the way to New London to sell some brooms she had made. Making brooms was a common way for Indian women to make money at the time, and there was a bigger market for them in the city than out in the country.
However, before the woman reached New London the sun began to set, and soon it was very dark. She grew concerned and wondered where she was going to spend the night. Luckily she came upon a house with light shining from the windows and smoke coming from the chimney. It looked very inviting, so she knocked on the door. A white woman answered the door, and invited the elderly Mohegan lady to come in. The Mohegan woman said, "Thank you! I am walking all the way to New London and need a place to stay. Could I please stay here tonight?" The white woman smiled and said, "Of course. You will be my guest tonight. But you must tell no one that you saw me here." The Mohegan woman thought this was an odd request, but agreed to it anyway. The white woman then brought out some bread and cheese and offered it to the elderly woman. The Mohegan woman accepted the food, but said, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry right now. I will eat this tomorrow before I finish my journey." She then lay down near the fire and went to sleep. When she awoke in the morning, she was amazed to find herself lying outside in the woods. Nearby her was a giant boulder which was the same size as the house she had seen the night before. When she reached in her pocket for the bread and cheese she was horrified to find they had been turned into a hard piece of cow dung and old white bone. *** I like this story quite a bit. Apparently the "house turning into a rock" theme appears in stories from other Algonquin tribes, and the white woman whose hospitality is a lie certainly makes sense as a comment on the Mohegan's political situation. I can also see connections to European fairy lore, where the gifts given by the fairies often turn out to be worthless in the daylight and the fairies swear those who see them to secrecy. I don't know if those similarities are the result of recent historical enculturation or come from a much older historical or psychological strata. Frank Speck himself is an interesting character. He was born in Brooklyn, but was as a sickly child and was sent to live with a family friend in the healthier, more rural environment of Connecticut. The family friend was a Mohegan woman named Fidelia Fielding, and under her tutelage young Frank developed an enthusiasm for Indian culture, eventually becoming one of the preeminent anthropologists who studied the Indian cultures of the Northeast. If you like this story, I'd suggest reading William Simmons's Spirit of the New England Tribes, which is full of them. A truly great book! The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Before the TyphoonBy Neill Caldwell QuailBellMagazine.com Photographs taken in the Philippines two years ago, long before Typhoon Haiyan. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Mayor Jones is a Douchecougar.Mayor Dwight Jones of Richmond, Virginia is a scumbag. A scumbag with a plan to develop Shockoe Bottom, and undoubtedly gain some personal reward down the line. The idea of moving Richmond’s baseball stadium from the Boulevard to Shockoe Bottom has been brought up repeatedly, but the public doesn’t enthusiastically support such a change. In fact, the drive for this change of venue seems to be coming out of nowhere—or mostly from some local developers/land owners who would profit by the move.
Momentum against Mayor Jones’ stadium proposal has been ongoing. This week it was revealed that the Mayor’s plan has added bells and whistles. These additions to the stadium plans are a transparent attempt to trick citizens of Richmond and City Council members into feeling like they must support his proposal despite the multitude of reasons baseball doesn’t belong in Shockoe. This new, larger plan will not stop the campaign against a stadium in Shockoe Bottom. In fact, his newest attempt should create more momentum against this proposal and Jones’ shitty politics. Here’s my top nine reasons why (it was going to be ten but I got hungry): 1. Food: The Mayor has added to his proposal the development of a grocery store in Shockoe Bottom. This should not sway you towards his plan, and for a couple reasons. Shockoe Bottom already has one grocery store. Although it's not my personal favorite, it exists and is available to the local population. Outside of that area, Richmond has many food deserts (one ‘s’ not two, NBC 12, 'cause with dessert you want more, with desert you do not. P.S. Hire me as a copy editor, please). A food desert is an area where the local population does not have access to healthy, affordable food. Mayor Jones isn’t really helping Richmond’s population by adding a grocery store to a non-food desert zone. Neighborhoods such as Highland Park and Manchester pop into mind as places in need of a grocery store. 2. Utilities: Mayor Jones has added to his plan the repair of the water/sewer utilities in Shockoe Bottom to try to entice people’s support. Here is why this is a problem: The City has an obligation to maintain and repair public utilities and that has NOTHING TO DO WITH BASEBALL. Richmond already has the world’s highest known water utility minimum rate. We already pay too much for our water utility—and we shouldn’t have to support the bad public investment of a baseball field in order to have our utilities repaired. 3. Housing: Jones’ plan calls for 750 apartments to be developed in Shockoe Bottom along with the baseball stadium. Richmond does NOT have a housing shortage. What we do have is a shortage of low income and affordable housing. If public money and support is to go towards any development of new housing, it should be housing for the folks who need it the most (e.g., low income, elderly, single caregiver, etc.) Sorry out of town yuppies and future gentrifiers, we have to take care of our own first. We need to prioritize the people who currently live in Richmond, and make a Richmond for us, not for folks some developers wish lived here. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hear Ye, Hear Ye!Dear fledglings, It's that time again for Renaissance fairs and festivals. The Quail Bell Crew has been fortunate enough to receive some free tickets to the Texas Renaissance Festival in Todd Mission, Texas. Get them FOR FREE while they still last! The dates vary and go until December 1st. Email us for more information and we will get them in the mail to you today! Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Hero Without Face-punching PowersBy Ollappac Nhoj QuailBellMagazine.com My name is Ollappac Nhoj. By day I am an online journalist. By night, I am homeless. I often find myself quite persnickety when choosing material to write about. Truthfully, I long to write about things that matter to me. Honest to God, no nonsense, completely non-pandering exposés about events and people in this world who are doing extraordinary things that the mass media will never touch. I’m talking about mavericks. Mavericks, if you are unaware, are a rare breed of people who do extraordinary, unconventional things simply in order to do so. However, they shouldn’t be compared to psychopaths, who are truly, incredulously insane individuals. See, mavericks do it for the sake of doing things differently. For the sake of changing the errs of culture that they perceive. Some people call these mavericks artists. I wouldn’t. That would be insane. I met one such maverick, whose true identity shall remain nameless. He is an antithesis. An aberration. Like a poltergeist, his transparency shrouds his devious nature. Devious, however, is just another word in our language that has reversed connotations. Since conducting this interview, I have grown quite close to this individual in mind, soul, and body. Especially body. And thus, like a reflection of the self or a doppelgänger that has been birthed to represent my own antithesis, I have dubbed him an appropriation that truly mirrors my own. In this interview, this maverick shall be known as John Cappello. Mr. Cappello is in the midst of production of an online & print comic book series entitled The Wonderful Wheels, for which writes and occasionally does art for. Chapter 1 was illustrated by Daniel Lupia, a local Richmond artist, and future issues will be illustrated by local artist Steven Chen. It concerns a wheelchair bound protagonist named Remi Ream, and he describes the comic as an insane children’s fairy tale where “reality and surreality are often intertwined.” If summed up in a one-sentence pitch: How does a person confront thoughts and ideas that are literally beyond their imagination? The storyline involves Remi’s journeys through her own imagination, experiencing funny and serious stories with odd characters along the way. One who appears in the first chapter, named only as ___ ____, is described as a literal walking idea who wears rainbow colored space pants, has transparent skin, and can travel across and manipulate both space and time. Set to be 16 chapters long and more similar to a work of literature than an ongoing comic book series, Mr. Cappello hopes that The Wonderful Wheels will be as important and beloved as his biggest comic book influencer, Alan Moore’s Watchmen. Tall order, Mr. Cappello. Can his ego match the proclamations stuffed in his pants? Let’s see: Olleppac Nhoj: Good afternoon, Mr. Cappello. Hope you’re doing well today. John Cappello: I wrote a joke yesterday that I really want to test out. Olleppac Nhoj: On me? Sure. John Cappello: You ready for this? What happened when Elmer Fudd finally caught Bugs Bunny? Olleppac Nhoj: Yes. John Cappello: What do you mean, “yes”? You ruined the flow of the joke. I don’t think I even want to tell you this anymore. Olleppac Nhoj: Just go ahead. John Cappello: I mean, just let the joke happen. Don’t try to interrupt it with your own joke. That’s just rude. Olleppac Nhoj: I’m sorry. I really do want to hear it now. Come on. John Cappello: Okay. He was bit and got the wabies. Olleppac Nhoj: [laughs] I see you like puns. John Cappello: What puns? I have a serious lisp. You should be more considerate of my feelings. Olleppac Nhoj: [laughs] So tell us, Mr. Cappello, from where did you find the inspiration for The Wonderful Wheels? John Cappello: Oh, are we actually talking about this? Olleppac Nhoj: [laugh] Well, I mean, we could talk about something else, if that’s what you would prefer. John Cappello: No, we should. I just like to dodge conversations about my work if possible. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Publishing's Most Misused LabelAfter abandoning a slew of “suspense” novels after 50 or 100 pages, I’m left wondering whether the definition of suspense changed while I wasn’t paying attention.
A lot of writers—and since these books keep getting published and bought, I guess a lot of readers, too—apparently believe “suspense” means hitting somebody over the head, or shooting somebody, or having a catastrophe befall a character out of the blue in nearly every chapter. I still cling to the old-fashioned idea that suspense is in the anticipation, not the actual event—the fear that something lurks behind a door, rather than the door banging open without warning and a bogeyman jumping out. The latter produces a moment of excitement, quickly over, then the plot has to shift into a different mode: dealing with the consequences of the attack. The former can be milked for a long, slow rise in the reader’s heart rate and level of discomfort. If the writer is any good at all, no reader will be able to put the book down while the heroine is trapped in a house where a monster may, or may not, be crouching behind a door, waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. Violence in itself is not suspense. Constant action is not suspense. If a book has an explosion or a shooting or an assault in every chapter, I grow tired and bored very quickly and give up on the book. It’s just movement, which is fine for fans of action stories, but it doesn’t feel suspenseful to me. Suspense is fear. Suspense is dread of what’s going to happen. Suspense is anticipation. I want to be inside the protagonist’s head, agonizing along with her as she wonders and waits and tries to find a way out. But before I can care what happens to the character, I have to care about the character herself. She doesn’t have to be warm and cuddly. She has to be human, real, an ordinary person but one with both the intellectual and emotional resources to carry her through the ordeal she faces. I don’t want to read about a helpless weakling being battered by villains. I’m also not intrigued by invincible action heroes who can stroll through a hail of bullets unscathed. I want the protagonist to struggle, but I want to believe she can prevail if she digs deep within herself for strength she may not even know she possesses. Publishers need to put a label on everything. The labels sometimes bear little relation to what’s between the covers. But few labels are misused as widely these days as the word “suspense.” So I continue dipping into book after book and discarding them after a few chapters, until I come across a gem that actually lives up to the claims on the cover. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Love, Peace, and FoodDearest fledglings, We wish we could say that the recovery process for Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines were a swift one. But it's not. It's a desperate situation, one where looting from stores makes sense—if not in terms of etiquette then definitely in terms of survival. People are hungry, people are homeless, and people are dead. Need a reality check? Then check out Google Images (without Safe Search on) for a start. Suddenly not being able to snag a Groupon for the Hello Kitty Princess Castle seems like a minor disappointment. Everything but absolute necessities are trivial in times of great need. If you decide to help the typhoon victims—and we hope that you are able and willing—but are unsure of how, CBS has an excellent round-up of resources. Please do what you can. Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Eco-Bunnies and Eco-FairiesBy QB Bookworm QuailBellMagazine.com Okay, fledglings, gather your featherlings and open up a storybook worth a wicked (and Wicca) read. The latest installment in the Rupert's Tales series, Rupert Helps Cleans Up (Schiffer Publishing), teaches kiddos about reducing, reusing, and recycling; stewardship of the earth; and "the beauty of nature." With 40 pastel illustrations that pay homage to the prettiness of yesteryear we so adore in Quail Bell Landia and poems about the likes of dragonfly clouds, a singing frog, and more, Kyrja and Tonia Bennington Osborn have sold us once again. Read our review of the previous Rupert's Tale storybook… On a side note, if you're looking for a Wiccan resources in the DMV, might we suggest WitchVox.com? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My Crush with EyelinerBy Eden Haney QuailBellMagazine.com 218 acres of freshwater + dammed on South Run + 4.5 miles of fishing shoreline = the first facts you glean from the Wikipedia page about Burke Lake in Fairfax, Virginia. But what about those intangibles? What about that 33rd Annual Ghost Train the park just hosted a couple of weeks ago? What about those super-secret bass hiding out in the reservoir? Or what about this awesome fairy punk outfit veterinary assistant Eden Haney styled and photographed herself right on site at Northern Virginia's hottest* lake? Take a gander at her look and visit the park yourself for your fair share of fall foliage. Maybe trudge through the mud in some Tims, with a Canon T3i in hand. -CS
*figuratively. No environmental finger wagging this time, please. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Old enough to be your classmate's mother?By Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com The National Center for Education Statistics show that of the 17.6 million undergraduates enrolled in the United States, 38% are over 25 and 25% are over 30. The number of college students who are over 25 is projected to jump a whopping 23% by 2019. So if you’re no spring chicken and you’re looking to nest in the academic coop, stop feeling alone. When I was an undergraduate Film and Creative Writing major at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, Virginia, I had the pleasure of sharing four courses with a woman named Karen. Karen was 50 years old, my mother’s age. In fact, she was a mother herself. Karen had five children, one of whom was my age exactly. This was Karen’s third attempt at a college degree. Karen first enrolled in college immediately after graduating from high school, but dropped out to get married. A decade later, she matriculated again, but her Theatre major required so much time on campus after class, that she felt herself neglecting her children. Karen dropped out again and returned to motherhood and the workforce. Nearly two decades later, when her youngest child graduated from high school, she tried again—and was she ever gung-ho about it. This time, she succeeded. After four years of full-time study, Karen graduated with highest honors in 2011, earning a degree in English and a full scholarship to graduate school. Last Karen and I spoke, she had plans to matriculate in a PhD. program upon finishing her Master’s. Yes, Karen’s achievements required determination, intellectual curiosity, and grit, but her accomplishments are not beyond the realm of possibility. Barbara Goldberg, who’s been the Coordinator of the Returning Students Program of the Counseling Center at the University of Maryland-College Park “forever,” has seen woman after woman graduate—despite age, family circumstances, finances, and other obstacles—year after year. “Returning students are excellent students after they’ve gone through the period of transition,” said Goldberg. “They’re serious in their studies. They’re not sitting around the Student Union and hanging out. In 99% of cases, they’re not looking for a mate. They’re focused. They know what they want. They’re here to learn and, in many cases, striving for a career change.” What I most admired about Karen was her ability to fully engage with the literature we studied and bring actual life experience and observations to class discussions. She never appeared distracted and regularly made meaningful comments to further the conversation. She devoted herself utterly and thoroughly to whatever text at hand.
Why? She wasn’t fretting over frat rush or carrying the most stylish phone or making it to that weekend’s coolest party. Karen cared about her homework, her research, and her class participation. She cared about learning from the text, the professor, and her classmates. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
History lies here.Even though Richmond, Virginia's City Council took the controversial baseball stadium proposal off of the agenda, over 20 citizens still attended the council meeting on Monday, November 11th to protest Mayor Jones' development plan. The proposal will be addressed at the November 25th council meeting at 6 p.m. at City Hall. In the meantime, if you are a Richmonder who cares about history or even just humanity in general, please spread the word and talk to your councilperson about this issue. Read the original op-ed...
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My Own Brain Working Against MeBy Fay Funk QuailBellMagazine.com When I still lived in New York City, I would go for a walk every night. After dinner I would set my homework aside, put on my shoes and headphones, and head out the door. I always went the same route; straight down 5th Avenue to 9th Street, then down 7th Avenue until about 1st Street.
I walked past the same darkly-lit bars and interchangeable bodegas. The same closet-sized coffee shop, and the same knock-off fried chicken restaurant, Kennedy Fried Chicken. As I got closer to Park Slope, the hole-in-the-wall Chinese and Mexican take-out places transformed into sit-down diners, and then into fancy cafés and bistros. The bars here featured kitchens and mood-lighting, and enough room to fit your entire group of friends, instead of just one or two. The small coffee houses were replaced with a Starbucks. Instead of bodegas, small boutiques with clothes I could never dream of affording dotted every corner. Everything was still packed tightly together, but in Park Slope it was done to be cute and quaint, rather than out of necessity, like it was by my home. On weekends I changed things up a bit. I would walk down 6th Avenue until 12th Street, then walk up to 8th Avenue and eat brunch. There were fewer businesses on 6th Avenue; instead it was lined with the townhouses that were a common feature in my neighborhood. They started out like mine, skinny three story buildings that were home to two or three different families. The further I walked the wider and taller the townhouses became, adding yards and floors, and owned by only one family. They were homes I could never imagine living in. Walking around Park Slope is one of my strongest and fondest memories from my last year in New York. But remembering those walks has always felt a bit strange. I may remember them as relaxing and beautiful, but they were really more of a desperate coping mechanism, for dealing with the stress of my senior year of college, my imminent move back across the country, and the realization that, despite dreaming about it since I was fourteen, I didn’t like living in New York City. The things I was dealing with most of the time are a dark blur now, but I can still remember those brief walks in great detail. For a long time I didn’t understand why I could remember those walks so well, while all the negative things, the important reasons I left New York City, were not as clear. It upset me. It felt like my own brain was working against me, trying to convince me that I was happy during that time when I know I was not. So I would force myself to remember all the bad things: the tiny bedrooms with only slit windows, facing a wall. The thousands of dollars I paid for rent. The scammers and predators at every turn. Crowded subways, constant horn-honking, and awful smells. Nostalgia for Park Slope does not bother me anymore. The fond memories do not cause me any harm so long as I’m aware of the reasons I left. Bringing up the bad memories only causes me stress over things that no longer matter. I do still think it’s odd though, that when reflecting on the past, we usually recall the happy memories first, while in the moment we can often only focus on the negative. My conflicting feelings over my walks really brought that to my attention. For the past year, I have been trying to be happy in the moment, and to try and remember the past with as much accuracy as possible. It’s not always easy. Moving back in with my parents, being far away from my closest friends, and a period of unemployment were very tempting things to feel negatively about. So I created my own happiness, by getting out of the house, and looking for music and friends. That, I realize now, is what I did when I walked all over Park Slope. I created my own happiness. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Away with the Sleeping MaskBy Lauren Hunt QuailBellMagazine.com There is a moment each day, before you remember what day it is and what year it is and where you are and who you’ve become. There is only you, and you are waking up, and maybe you’re really happy just to be waking up again, or maybe you’re really tired and cursing yourself for setting an alarm so early. I am in that moment right now, only I am not waking up to a new day. I am waking up to life.
I know where I am and I know who I’ve been, but I don’t know where I’m going, and I get to decide that today. Right now. I could turn off the alarms in my head, roll over, and continue to sleepwalk through my life. I could keep getting by, keep doing the bare minimum, keep following the schedule of what I’m supposed to do to become a happy, successful, productive person. I could save my dreams for the moments before I fall asleep, when I get to construct my own world. When I get to be who I choose, say what I feel, love who I want, run and jump and fly and find adventures and excitement and success. I could grumble through the day with sleep in the corners of my eyes, blurring out the peripherals of life. Or, I could wake up. I could decide to spring out of bed with a joy for living and breathing and seeing everything in my vision, wiping the corners of my eyes and finding things within my reach I never knew where there. I could use today as the blank slate it is. I could stop the past from flooding into my mind and tying me down to where I am and who I’ve been. I could be so grateful just to have woken up that I’d refuse to waste another minute on anything that didn’t make me blissfully happy. I could spend every minute with friends and family, or with strangers in new places, or cooking the meal I never have time for, or putting the story in my head on paper, or packing a bag and leaving the map at home. I could wake up with a clear vision, and find that in this reality I can still be who I choose, say what I feel, love who I want, run and jump and fly through life in pursuit of my own adventures and excitement and success, instead of those I think I’m bound to pursue. Tick. Tick. Tick. The alarm is coming. It’s time. Open your eyes. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
More than ShinglesLet me begin by asking this simple question--Is “creativity” the main criteria you should consider when hiring a graphic designer? If you answered that question, “no,” then hooray for you. I agree! I ran across a design website just today, and the pitch was, “The only reason to hire me is because I’m creative. I’ll bring that quality to everything I do.” To me, that's sort of like saying, “I’m a roofer and you should hire me because I’ll always bring shingles and the proper roofing tools.” So, let me get this straight: if you install my roof, it will actually involve shingles and roofing tools? Well, THAT'S a relief. I’m still amazed by how many young designers believe creativity and the demonstration of it alone will magically bring success. Designers are in a creative business just as roofers are in the business of installing shingles. Most designers quickly discover that their competition is pretty darn creative, too. Oops! So now what? It means competing on a different level. Now, I know, there are designers reading this thinking, “not all creatives are created equal. My special brand of creativity makes me unique and more desirable.” Maybe. I understand differences in style and creative ability is important. I get it, but…what many business savvy designers have learned is that something even more valuable and rare is needed: a firm grasp and focus on the customer and their business-driven goals. You heard me right. That focus is rare. After years in this business, I’ve realized that this focus is even rarer than hi-octane creative talent. Without such focus, creativity is practically useless to a business. Graphic design is about filling a need and creating a solid tool that performs a function and solves specific problems for the client (not necessarily for the designer’s portfolio), and as such a certain type of directed, creativity is needed, but it's not all that's needed. Let's stretch that roofing analogy a little further shall we? What would you want if you were hiring someone to install a roof on your house? Look at this list and see if you don’t think this should apply to hiring designers as well:
I could go on and on but you get the idea. Sadly, I’ve known several designers with enviable creative skills and gorgeous portfolios, who failed miserably as a freelancer because creativity was more important to them than their customer. Creativity became the CEO that ran them right out of business. But, hey, their creative integrity was still intact, right? When I decided to freelance, a former boss and marketing executive I greatly respected told me, “Steve, just remember that what you are doing is more business than art.” His words have been proven to me ten times over. So, when its time to get that creative “roof” put over your head, make sure the designer can bring a little more to the job than just “shingles and roofing tools.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Civic Duty--yum.Attention all Virginians—you have the opportunity to take part in "this year's most important election." Don't miss it or you'll be sorrier than a pig on sausage-grinding day. Cuccinelli rivals any of the 50 greatest villains in literature, except *ugh* he's real. Vote tomorrow or mail in your absentee ballot today so that it arrives by 7 p.m. Tuesday.
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