Fiction

If you’re like me, how quickly finals are approaching has really caught you off guard. Just last week, you wrote the date down as January, then did a double take, because, wait, it’s May. If you’re like me, you then noticed that you’d accidentally written 2014 instead of 2019.

But, sadly, it is true. It is early May. Finals are in just a few days. They are sneaking up on us all, like those monsters from your nightmares as children. They are hidden beneath your lofted bed, snuggled beside your Pub-Safe-issued plastic food bin. Probably, you’d rather fight an actual monster than have to crank out that last Peace Studies paper, or to sit down for your Biochem exam.

We have had a weird year this year. We lost the homes we made in Stimson and Heubeck, said goodbye to our friend The Van, had to accept José’s eventual departure, and, if you’re like me, accepted that your major is going to die a soon, slow death. There were crimes, both on-campus and off, that knit this campus closer together. These things have happened in such rapid succession that you may have lost track of them each individually. Last May, the last time things felt so normal, feels like a distant memory now. How could you have known when you pulled onto Dulaney Valley Road, when you drove off campus for the last time of the semester, straight into summer, that you would be returning only to say goodbye to so many wonderful things?

And now we only have a few weeks left until another year is over. If you’re a senior, you’ll be living out your last few days on campus. You’ll be in the stir fry line, and it might be your last time in the stir fry line. You’ll be doing laundry, and it will be the last time you have to remember that every machine on campus is simultaneously broken, but you still won’t get your eSuds money back. These things will be weighty, and they might feel impossible. But you’ll make it out the other side after seeing Bill Nye, and realize it’s all over.

If you’re a freshman, you’ll go home and everything you did this year will feel fake. Seriously, it will. You’ve just begun something insane, and it might take a while for it all to sink in. Don’t worry, though, because Mary Fisher will still be here for you in August. There will be more laundry and stir fry for you. Assuming you come back.

If you’re anywhere in between, finals and move out feel like routine by now. You’ve done this before. It’s still a strange, sticky feeling, like time is molasses and you’re just trudging through it until you hit the finish line. You still have to do this whole cycle one or two more times, and the thought is exhausting. Who knows what will still be here next year, and who won’t. Who knows who will be here next year, and who won’t.

So grab a bowl of that really good tomato soup from the dining hall, or treat yourself to a green tea latte from Alice’s (if they’re not out of it). There’s only a little bit more to do. It might feel like there’s a marathon left of running before the semester is over, but, really, it’s only a handful of hours until you’re peeling your illegal Command strips off the walls and shoving everything you own into nondescript boxes.

Take a moment to enjoy yourself before finals begin, or to center yourself in the midst of the storm. We’re almost there.

Taurus

Happy birthday, Taurus! My gift to you? Permission to leap out of your comfort zone. If anyone knows how secure it feels to have a routine, it’s you. But remember, being uncomfortable doesn’t mean you’re unsafe. Don’t be scared if you feel like you’re falling at first; you will soar.

Gemini

You have so many ideas and wishes right now that it may be hard to keep up. The dizziness is natural (and you’re used to it), but keep your sights on what really matters — you know exactly what you want and need.

Cancer

All those big, unanswered questions you’re asking have been weighing heavier than usual. Last month’s Mercury retrograde definitely didn’t help in your search for clarity. Take solace in that fact that many of those questions will be answered (some very soon!). Keep working to let go of the ones that will never be.

Leo

All of your current efforts may feel like dead ends right now, and maybe they have for a little while now. Take this season to pause, reassess, and remember how spectacular you are (despite everything that’s telling you otherwise). You won’t be stuck much longer.

Virgo

Sometimes it’s easier to run and hide from your truth. This is especially tempting now with Mars in Gemini making life feel busier than usual for you. Remember, there’s healing in honesty.

Libra

Don’t shy away from or feel guilty about the confidence you’ve been feeling lately. Instead, revel in it. Cultivate it. It’s yours. Celebrate who you are.

Scorpio

There’s so much power in the company of those you love, both for them and for you. Harness the intensity of your motivation to work towards your goals and dreams, but remember to nurture yourself by being around others, too.

Sagittarius

Remember that only you can define yourself. Keep working to (re)create yourself, despite anyone who tries to put you into a box they feel like you should fit in. Find strength in the person you’re working on becoming.

Capricorn

Don’t spend your time trying to disappear; it won’t give you the comfort you’ve been looking for. Instead, be present and show up for yourself and for others. By the way, Venus just entered Aries. Call (or text; it is 2019, after all) the person you’ve been missing.

Aquarius

Life since January has been bursting with new experiences, some of which have ignited radical changes in your inner world. Now, those fireworks that have been exploding in your life are finally starting to slow and fade. Keep processing, keep healing.

Pisces

Aries season was full of revelations for you, and of course, plenty of reactions and feelings to go with them. Even if understanding it all has been difficult, everything will become clearer with the steadiness of Taurus season.

Aries

Whether you felt powerful or pained during your season, you’re in luck — a gentle and positive energy is coming your way. Share that beauty with others! Expect life to soften over the next few weeks.

The Academic Policies Committee doesn’t seem to know, so take this quiz to find out!

1. It’s seventy degrees outside and there’s a hammock available right in the bright sun. But you have a paper due next week that you really need to spend some time working on. Do you…
   • a) Grab that hammock! Who cares about the essay, there will be time to write it later tonight when the sun is gone. Besides, the hammock is the perfect accessory for your newest Facebook profile picture.
   • b) Grab the hammock but decide to do some essay work while laying down. You know how to allocate your time, and besides, grades are an antiquated social construct anyway.
   • c) Go inside. There’s internet.
   • d) Stay outside but don’t do your homework. There are mice around that are more interesting to watch than trying to figure out MLA formatting…
2. There’s a pop-up record album sale outside of Mary Fisher during your only free hour before lunch. But you’re also supposed to meet up with a group to work on a project. Do you…
   • a) Browse for a while! Giving your dorm a good vibe on your electric record player is more important than a group project.
   • b) Browse, then try to figure out a way to barter the salesman down to a cheaper price. Whoever said theoretical business skills would never come in handy?
   • c) Go work on the group project and if you finish early, you can come back and look at what they’re selling. Talking about your ideas is just as fun as jamming out!
   • d) Who needs music when there’s a perfectly good carpenter bee hive outside of Van Meter that you can listen to? Buzz buzz…
3. There’s a long line at Alice’s, and they’re about to close for afternoon break. But you badly need an Athenaeum drink before finding an empty study room and cranking out a review assignment. Do you…
   • a) Take a picture of the whole line for your Snapchat story with the caption “:(“.
   • b) Trick question—you never go to Alice’s. It’s more cheap and ethical to make your own coffee in your room in your reusable cup.
   • c) While in line, jot down a quick poem about how waiting makes you feel. Make sure to capture the correct smell of the coffee beans, the exact sound of the bean grinder.
   • d) Pass out a quick survey to everyone else in the line, telling them it’ll only take a few seconds and that you badly need the data for a class project. You never know when you’ll need data like this.
4. You told your friends you’d go to the a cappella show at night but your RA has called a last-minute hall meeting to talk about cleaning the floor kitchen. Do you…
   • a) Tell your RA that you can’t make it and go to the performance. Showing up for the arts is one of the most impactful things you can do.
   • b) Go to the hall meeting. Living communally is all about everyone doing their fair part, and you have some suggestions for your RA about how to better implement a fair cleaning system.
   • c) Use the a cappella show as an excuse not to go to the RA meeting, and the RA meeting as an excuse not to go to the show. Stay in bed and read.
   • d) Go to the hall meeting, but only because that mold growing in the sink looks pretty freaky…
5. You didn’t have time to complete a reading reflection (or do the reading at all…) but your friend did it in advance and says they’ll send you their work. Do you…
   • a) Ask them to do a performative dance rendition of the reading assignment. Their interpretation of the words into movement will help you better understand the themes.
   • b) Do a quick analysis to see what percentage of copying words can be copied before you lose market equilibrium and the professor finds out.
   • c) Whoever said anything in writing is original thought? Use your friend’s assignment as inspiration to write your own—it’s not copying, it’s an artistic reinterpretation.
   • d) What type of reflection is this? Where is the scientific evidence? These claims are unsupportable and your friend isn’t even citing reliable sources.

Mostly As: Take a CPEA! You are artsy, experimental, and spontaneous. You would love taking a photography, music, theater, or art class.

Mostly Bs: Take a CPEB! You seem to be organized and sure about what you want. Think about taking a business, anthropology, or psych class.

Mostly Cs: Take a CPEC! You’re a reader or a writer or someone who just loves words. Try out a humanities class, whether it be English, history, or peace studies.

Mostly Ds: Take a CPED! You obviously have a taste for the natural, and you love observing or learning about the world around you. You should take a natural sciences class, such as ecology or biology.

Bacon, toast, biscuits and sausage.

They don’t thrill me like you do.

Soggy surface jiggles on my fork’s tip.

You may moan and groan about the shriveled yolk

But I attack my prey of yellow sponge with my drooling mouth.

Brunch never been so fine.

Squishy, squashy, moosh and whoosh

My buds taste your lukewarm spirit.

The scent of sulfur eagers my ears and beckons my toes

Brunch never been so fine.

The puddle you leave behind my plate

That soggies my skillets and ruptures my bowels.

You are the treat of the week.

Brunch never been so fine.

Pondering down the line of red pots:

I’ll have some bacon, toast, biscuits, sausage and…

I want me some scrambled eggs.

Brunch never been so fine.

BY ARI HILLER

I glance up the stairs

Are you busy today?

I need me a plate of your sweet embrace

I await YOU.

I creep in line for your irresistible spice

Will you give me a chance?

I grab me a dish for you to fill

I await YOU.

I think of the possibilities

If you were mine and I was yours

I know you can be mine.

I await YOU.

I worry.

Is the line to get you too long?

I panic.

Will you ever emerge from your dome of steel?

I fret.

Will you not come back to me?

I wish time would move faster,

For I want you in my arms right now.

I wish you would finish your sizzling,

For my mouth waters with thoughts of devouring you.

Give me your onions and peppers, green and red.

Give me your spinach, your mushrooms, your heart and soul.

I await YOU.

I’ll be the old if you’ll be the bay

I’ll hold your hand if you lead the way

I’ll be the stir if you’ll be the fry

I await YOU.

BY ARI HILLER

While the train is stalled at Parkside Avenue,

a toddler clambers onto the row seating

his weary mother sinking onto the bench next to him.

He stands, two feet tall, and looks out the window

He says, Everything looks so different now.

I think he must mean since the snow all melted a few days ago,

but his words speak to my heart

to my own days at two feet tall, standing on the Q train seats

and peering out into the subway tracks.

Balancing on the ledges that line the sidewalks

my father’s outstretched hands waiting to catch me if I stumbled.

The vacant space in the front of Van Meter stands stripped and naked. As you walk up the steps off of Van Meter Highway and gaze into the front window of Van Meter building, you contemplate your warped reflection and the strange lack of coffee grounds filling the air. Lately the only thing you have to look forward to when going inside is the safety from the wind, not a warm muffin or a hot latte.

The Van was a weird, strange kiosk, a bodega and a café and a magical haven that presented food in the most dire of times. The lone soldier on the sidelines of the fight who brought brave, slowly-dying fighters sustenance in the midst of battle. The Molly Pitcher of Goucher, The Van was the true hero of the everyday combat against the rest of the academic quad, standing firmly on the side of the students. You can vividly remember the quick sprint from Hoffberger to The Van in the ten minute stretch between classes, desperate for a bagel with cream cheese, the extra 50 cents for more than one cream cheese cup be damned. The “bathroom” breaks that were actually only to grab an iced coffee. The Van was always there for you.

Now The Van has been shot down, another casualty in the campus evolution this year. As if its closing wasn’t enough, its bones have been knocked away, its skeleton removed from its fossilized husk. All that remains in its place is the chalkboard sign upon the ground, the writing still intact, runes from an ancient language newly deceased. Someone wrote those words, whether they are still on campus or have moved on; you wonder if they know that they have outlived this tiny creation, this fractional piece of their soul, if this small artistic act while on the clock is something they even remember having performed.

In its place there is now a small lounge. Or…something like a lounge, you’re not really sure. There are a few chairs and a table. If you ever felt like spending more time in Van Meter than you already do, it’d probably be a picturesque gathering space, right next to the window, the perfect perch to overlook all the way across campus. But it feels too wrong to be relaxing in the same place where The Van used to stand, proud and strong.

Because the brick wall in the inside of Van Meter used to be an exterior wall, some poor professor’s office looks into the entryway, directly into where The Van used to be. Now their window is free, unblocked. When you stand in the place where The Van was, the professor in the window stares at you, alarmed, shy, afraid. They are shocked that there is light on the other side of their window. They gape straight past you, as if you aren’t even there, at the trees on the outside of the building. You wonder how long it has been since they last saw the sun. How many seasons have gone by? How many dining halls and food repositories have disappeared since then?

In the hallway, someone says, “Wouldn’t it be cool if there was, like, a place to get some food between classes?” One day the ignorance of the first years is going to actually kill you. They don’t know what this place used to be, the heroes that you have worshipped and watched fall. They tramp across a hallowed site, a holy place, without even knowing what used to reside here. But you know, and you say a silent apology to the discarded chalkboard now laid to rest. The Van was its own type of Giving Tree; it gave to all whenever they most needed it, until it had no more to give.