LOOKING GLASS

theA Literary Publication of the University of Idaho Honors Program

Spring 2014

Volume 10, Issue 1

Th e University of Idaho Honors Program publishes Th e Looking Glass Literary Magazine to provide honors students the opportunity to exhibit their innovative and artistic talents. Th is publication shows that honors students are more than just good grades, but ambitious individuals with a variety of hobbies and gift s.

Th is year we also incorporated a two-page spread about the Honors Program to provide a summary of this year’s community service, educational enrichment opportunities, and social events.

Th is magazine would not be possible without Th e Looking Glass committee who brainstormed ideas then compiled and edited submitted stories, articles, and poems. I want to give a special thanks to Design Editor, Krista Stanley, for going above and beyond what was expected. Th e Honors Program continues to grow, and I am excited to see what it holds in the future!

—Jennifer Downen

NOTE EDITORthe

froma

contact us:University of IdahoHonors Student Advisory BoardTh e Looking GlassP.O. Box 442533Moscow, ID 83844-2533

hsab@uidaho.edu

Volume 10, Issue 1

Th e Looking Glass is a literary publication of the University of Idaho Honors Program, featuring creative and academic works submitted by students. A digital copy of the publication can be found at: http://issuu.com/honors_lookingglass

LOOKING GLASS

the

Th e works published have been reviewed by the Looking Glass editorial staff and printed primarily in their original, unedited form.

Th e viewpoints expressed are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily refl ect those of Th e Looking Glass, its editors or the University of Idaho Honors Program

Every eff ort has been to reduce errors in this publication. Th e Looking Glass will not be held responsible for any errors that do exist, from human negligence or otherwise.

Any questions or concerns should be directed to the University of Idaho Honors Student Advisory Board.

LOOKING GLASSthe

A Literary Publication of the University of Idaho Honors Program

TABLE of CONTENTSInto the Depths by Alan Hendricks .......................................... 3Stand Still by Tela Barkley ........................................................ 3Rolling Summer by Kyle Flack .................................................. 5Grace by Autumn Pratt ............................................................... 6By Giants by Elizabeth Miller ..................................................... 7Snow Day by Cooper Atkinson .................................................. 8Spring Activities by Cooper Atkinson ..................................... 9The Acceleration of Tensioned, Nearly-Balanced Masses by Brad Walker ................................................................ 11Restitution by Mitchell Leibowitz ........................................... 12Path to Knowledge by Cooper Atkinson .............................. 13Paroxysmal Obsolescence by Mitchell Leibowitz ................. 14L’appel du Vide by Taylor Kowalski ........................................ 15Tranquil by Kyle Flack ............................................................. 16About the Honors Program ..................................................... 17

Editor-in-Chief: Jennifer DownenContent Editors: Tela Barkley, Elizabeth Campbell, Taylor Kowalski, Kendra Miller and Amy Pendegraft Design Editor: Krista StanleyCover Art: Photo “Spring Cleaning” by Kyle Flack

Spring 2014 02

03 The Looking Glass17 The Looking GlassSTAND STILLTela Barkley

In Greek mythology, the word siren refers to women who sang so sweetly and so strangely among the rocks in the sea that their music could lure unwitting sailors to ruin their ships in the shoals. Th ey had the power to captivate the human mind and bend it to follow their whim. Th ese days, the word siren means something diff erent. Now, it refers to the cry of klaxon bells, intended to warn and alert. Few people know of the old sirens anymore. Th ey’ve gone the way of mythological creatures, gods, and fairy tales—fi t to be little more than the fodder for a children’s book. But aren’t they still the same thing, really? Sit in the middle of a busy metropolis and watch, listen, observe. Do you hear that whining cry, the sobbing, keening sound of a police siren, or an ambulance, or even a fi re-engine? Do not listen to the siren. Watch the people. See how they stop what they’re doing and follow that vehicle with their eyes and ears and hearts, curious and wondering where it’s going, captivated for an instant, and oh my word, hoping it’s not the death-heralding cry for someone they know. I knew a siren once. She was a slender thing, barely a woman

INTO DEPTHS

the

Alan Hendricks

03 The Looking Glass

of twenty, but with the worldly wisdom of someone much older. Her eyes were the deep green-blue of the ocean, and her teeth were like pearls. Her skin was like the white sand of tropical beaches, and her hair… She dyed it the deep emerald green of the kelp that sways under maritime water. But when we made love, the tiny, almost dainty patch of hair between her thighs was so blonde it looked silver. She told me her name was Calypso, that day that we met on the beach. I never learned if that was actually her name, or if it was simply a nickname she picked up out of a knowing sense of irony. Everyone who knew her called her Calypso. Her voice was a siren’s voice. It called to me from the fi rst moment she spoke, caressing me like the lapping water of water at a shore. I’m not sure what I was looking for that day I met her on the beach, but what I found was a her. She always dressed in greens and silvers and blues and golds, my Calypso, and she favored jewelry made of shells and pearls and other treasures of the deep. Th e only time I ever saw her wear the colors of fi re was when we sat on the pier and the sunset or the sunrise refl ected off the water and onto her skin. If anything, it made her more beautiful and made me want to cry, my own salty tears adding to the ocean below us. She seemed to know me, when I did not even know myself. I was lost that day I met her, wandering between lives with no more consideration for my path than the barest, faintest amusement at where my feet had taken me. I had dreamt perhaps of winding my way up steel-and-glass staircases and then taking the fi nal step, from stories high above, to descend to the street below me. But my feet had other ideas. Instead of taking me to fl y among the pigeons that roosted on the skyscrapers, they had taken me to sleep with the fi shes. Or so I thought, as I gazed out to sea. Wading out to my death had a certain poetic allure. I could not swim then, and by the time anyone noticed me fl oundering in the water, it would have been too late. Th e voice I heard then did not call me to ruin myself on the rocks. It called me to stop, and nothing more than

the window seat in my apartment like a sunbather. She was in an irritable mood the day I lost her. We bickered over the same things we always did: how I was too clingy, how I relied on her too much, how I was smothering her independence. When she screamed at me in anger, her voice sounded like a seagull. I could not help but shiver and close my eyes, feeling the murderous pull of her personality. When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. I spent that day looking for her. She was not at her own apartment the fi rst several times I stopped by in the painful hope that she would be there. Giving that up, I wandered our favorite haunts and traced the beach more times than I could count. I was on my way to check her apartment again when I heard the siren. Not my siren, but a fi ery siren. A death-herald siren. Her apartment building burned. A faulty piece of electrical wiring, the newspaper reports said two days later. Th ere were casualties. Calypso had returned to her true roost while I was wandering the beach. My beautiful mermaid had burned, a fate far too ironic, far too cruel, to bear. Now, as I’m standing on the beach staring out to sea, I can feel the heavy weight of the rocks I’ve slipped into my

shoes and the pockets of my coat. I’ve collected them gradually

over the last fi ve days, wandering this beach

and thinking of her. I haven’t gone to work. I haven’t painted. I haven’t taken any of my medication, either. I’ve only returned briefl y

to my apartment when I fi nally admit

that no, this day is not the day. I think I’ve been

waiting for her. Last night, I had a dream

for the fi rst time in the week since her death. I dreamt that I was painting a scene: my siren, standing among the waves with her arms spread in welcome. I am the man in the painting, wading into the sea to be with Calypso. Th ere’s a bit of kelp that

my toes got wet that aft ernoon. You never hear the stories of sirens that save lives, only those who destroy them. And so, life continued on. It became brighter, as though lit by a new star that illuminated more than the sun ever could. I began painting again, and my subject matter turned from musings of consuming fi re and dark despair to lighter considerations of seas at dawn, and dolphins, and fi sh like swirling rainbows in cyan waters. Calypso was fi ercely independent, but she created a sort of nest for herself at my apartment, like a shore bird building a home in the rocky crag of a cliff . She would sit in my window seat as I painted, watching the sea gnaw hungrily at the beach. I could not stop from including her in my paintings, I found, as a maiden standing on a cliff , or a mermaid deep under the surface, or as a young woman wading into dark waters to swim naked with a lover. We had done that oft en enough that I could paint that particular scene with no eff ort at all. Calypso, through teasing me with the promise of feeling her body in its natural habitat taught me to swim. She cavorted like a seal in the waves, unafraid of the sea even aft er dark when I always wondered what hungry, needle-mouthed things lurked in the gloom. I do not remember now how much time I spent in her company. I remember the pass of seasons, and how she shift ed moodily from day to week to month. Her moods went in cycles that coincided, I discovered, with the phases of the moon and the pull of the tides. At times she was choppy and irritable and given to squalls that could last for mere seconds or days. At other times, she was smooth and languid and inviting, and frequently a rather demanding lover. Even at others, she was lazy, lounging on

“CALYPSO WAS FIERCLY INDEPENDENT,

BUT SHE CREATED A NEST FOR HERSELF AT MY

APARTMENT.”

Spring 2014 04

ROLLING SUMMER

Kyle Flack

Calypso is still calling to me. But this time she does not beckon me to remain on the beach. Smiling, I step the water to feel the sea’s embrace. Once I pass the point where my feet touch the sand below me, I begin to swim towards the golden sun. But the rocks are already pulling me down, and the fatigue and grief of the last week have left me exhausted. It is not long before I will sink to join Calypso. Th ere with her, I will not feel the fi sh nibble at my fi ngers, nor the salt water sluicing the fl esh away from my bones.

has washed up on the shore, the same color as Calypso’s hair. And as I’ve been standing here for the last half hour in the waning light, I think I can hear her singing to me. It is clear today, not stormy like it has been for weeks. Th e setting sun is lemon yellow, and if it were not so painful, I would enjoy the way it dusts the top of the waves. But it reminds me of the way Calypso’s gold jewelry glinted along the curves of her body, and so once again my tears mingle with the ocean water that the breeze occasionally sprays onto my face.

Spring 2014 06

A cloudy night,A dawn of rain,

I step into a gray-blue day.Th e pavement wears a mirror sky,In which the worms go gliding by.

What glorious rain, when worms can fl y.

GRACE

Autumn Pratt

GIANTS

by

Elizabeth Miller

Th e universe was formed in a giant’s footprints.When the glass shattered, big piecesmelted into planetsand dust became the stars,choked together into shadows of memories,of the giant’s childhood.Shards of a silver-handled mirrorprickled at the edges of footprintswhisper of a clumsy boy, waitingfor his mother one day, the fallen rain shining,making the whole world blind.And when the universe was still formingalong the edges of fl uid glass,its surface burnishing into galaxies and solar systems,when her casket was buriedbetween two moons,the giant scattered dandelions across the crystal sky.Th e petals sighed where they fell,lost in a fl urry of metallic dust

07 The Looking Glass

SNOW DAYCooper Atkinson

SPRING ACTIVITIES

Cooper Atkinson

Aft er three labs exploring gravitional acceleration of a particle, we have great confi dence that gravitational acceleration is constant. What can we discover about gravity beyond its eff ect on a particle? We decided to investigate a more complicated gravitational problem involving a rope, a pair of pulleys, a pair of masses, and a variable mass. We vised two metal poles to our lab bench and attached a pulley to each one. We positioned the pulley pair at approximately the same height and also angled along an imaginary line so that a rope segment suspended between them would be of minimal length. One of these pulleys doubled as our measuring instrument; while rotating, it measured the durations among fi xed angle increments. From this DataStudio calculated the circumferential velocity. We ran a rope through the pulley system and attached congruent objects to the rope ends hanging from each pulley. We designate these approximate masses as m1 and m2. Aft er setting up our apparatus we began our experiment. For each trial we attached to m1 mΔ, an object with mass between 2g and 20g. Th en we elevated the aggregate mass, released it, and measured the acceleration of m2’s ascent. Our apparatus made us unable to precisely measure acceleration; every time we released the aggregate mass, one of the poles undulated, causing continual variations in rope velocity. As a result DataStudio recorded

sinusoidal acceleration. We tried dampening the harmonic

motion to no avail. Unable to obtain constant acceleration plots, we resorted to applying linear fi ts to interpolate constant magnitudes. We performed a series of experimental trials but we only include a limited selection in our analysis: fi ve trials with 200g m1, m2 and two with 20g m1, m2. To determine what relationship might exist between m1, m2, and mΔ, we fi rst analyze the system of forces. Before attaching mΔ to m1, the balanced masses are in equilibrium. Gravity exerts equal forces on both masses and the tension reactions exert equal force on the pulleys. Th e pulleys react and exert equal force on one another through tension. Th e system then has four pairs of forces on four objects and four zero net forces. Aft er attaching mΔ to m1, the fi eld force and tension of the aggregate mass’s rope segment increase in magnitude. Th is greater tension “propagates” through tensions in the rope and the system’s net forces all become a common non-zero magnitude. Th e aggregate mass pulls the rope downward, the pulley nearest m1 pulls toward itself, the pulley nearest m2 pulls m2 upward, the tension of the rope segment between m2 and its adjacent pulley increases, and m2 defi es gravity. Now that we have claried the system, we quantify the aggregate mass’s acceleration as a function: a = f(m1+ mΔ,m2) ∙ g. Th e tension of m1’s rope segment is the negative of the fi eld force of m2 or m1: T = -m2 g = -m1g ∙ ∙ m1 = m2. Th e three particles’ forces act through the rope and net to mΔ g: ∑ F = T + m1 g + mΔ g = (-m1 + m1 + mΔ)g = mΔ g. Th e trinary net force acts on the system’s mass;

ACCELERATION TENSIONED MASSES

the

Brad Walker

ofnearly-

balanced

11 The Looking Glass

∙

our simplied model omits the mass of the rope— . . mtotal = m1 + m2 + mΔ. From a = F ∕m [1], we uncover the function in the below equations. Letting mb represent either approximate mass allows further simplication.

∑ F m1 + mΔ -m2 mΔ mtotal m1 + mΔ+ m1 2 mb+ mΔ

Our model seems reasonable. In the table below, the “aR” column reports our actual interpolated acceleration constants and the “aI” column represents predicted values. Th ese are positive whereas our model predicts negative values—they required inversion since the pulley measured the counterweight’s ascension. Th e actual accelerations are bounded by the predicted values. Th e discrepancy between actual and ideal values increases as mΔdecreases, as well as when the system uses smaller balanced masses. Th e omission of the rope’s mass would explain this discrepancy, as would unaccounted friction. With data close to our model and potential hypotheses for the discrepancy, we have great condence that the acceleration of nearly-balanced masses in an earthbound

pulley system can be expressed simply as a = ±9.80 m/s2

[2].

m1, m2 (g) mΔ (g) aR (m/s2) aI (m/s2)20 0.375 0.46716 0.330 0.377

200 14 0.305 0.33112 0.149 0.28510 0.104 0.239

20 6 0.671 1.284 0.278 0.891

References:[1] Physics 211 Lab Manual, Spring 2013, \Lab 4”[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Standard gravity

RESTITUTIONMitchell Leibowitz

Spring 2014Spring 2014 12

∙

a = = g = f(m1+ mΔ,m2) ∙ g = g

mΔ 2 mb+ mΔ

PATH toKNOWLEDGE

Cooper Atkinson

Return to ruinWhile wasting away

Convalescence just out your reachRegretting todaythe non threat it seemedso harmless a useof your own blasphemous time

A pass of the fl ameWhilst wilting away

A view of yourself the coward the foolA plea for guidanceReprieve for your sickening ways

Accused of fi lthWhile writhing away

Paroxysmal ObsolescenceAn indulgence in futility

PAROXYSMAL OBSOLESCENCE

Mitchell Leibowitz

Spring 2014 14

15 The Looking GlassThe Looking Glass

L’APPEL VIDEdu

Taylor Kowalski

We fellinto each otherin that gentle dark,clothing cast off like warningsancient and new and unheeded.

We drank sky-wine with the godsat the end of the worldand madness or loveor bothfl urried in our bellies.

We traded virginities like secretswhispered between kisseswhen the night is quietand the stars wheel and bloom,peeled away ivory childhoodlike a masklike a second skin.

We were infi nite,divine,free radicals,closed circuits,Möbian snakeseating our own tails.

We stood at the cusp of the unknowncontemptuous of the yawning void,and for all our cleverness and invincibilitywe fell.

Kyle FlackTRANQUIL

ABOUT HONORS

the

program

he University of Idaho Honors Program (UHP) has provided an enriching course of study since its establishment in 1983. Th e UHP off ers a range of activities, including concerts, plays, fi lms, leadership retreats, alternative Spring Break service trips, and “Fire Side Chats” with professors. In addition, students have the opportunity to participate in honors seminars and lectures,

which is a great way to meet like-minded students across colleges and majors. For more information, see the UHP website at http://www.uidaho.edu/honors.

Robin BakerCo-President

Kelly DeobaldCo-President

Brooke DeansJennifer DownenEmily GehlkenChristopher GoesTyler Jaszkowiak

Kalyn LewisCalvin MillerRicky Titcomb Katie Vandenberg

University Honors Program Director

Dr. Alton Campbell is the University of Idaho Honors Program Director and he oversees all classes and events within the Honors Program. Alton is defi nitely a role model and mentor to many students. Without him, there would not be a wide array of classes or social and service events for honors students. He not only leads the Honors Program, but he also works to engage students through leadership development, club activities, service programs, living groups, undergrad research, study abroad, and national student exchange. Alton is always available to lend an ear or give advice to anyone that walks into his offi ce. Th e Honors Program continues to progress because Dr. Alton Campbell has new and innovative ideas to make our Honors Program unique and interesting.

T

Photos provided by Alton Campbell

Honors Student Advisory Board

Photos provided by Alton Campbell

17 The Looking GlassThe Looking Glass

“Th e Honors Program at UI is great because

you get to participate in more in-depth in-depth classesclasses that do more than just teach you the

basic material.” —Keala Bush “I like being in a communitycommunity with others who have the same desire

to further their education and put forth their best effort in college.” —Michael Botterbusch “I like the amount

of personal attentionpersonal attention and opportunities it makes possible.” —Clara Bowen “I like the free ticketsfree tickets to concerts.” —Peter Haley “Th is program allows me to be a better roundedbetter rounded member on campus.” —Brooke Deans “The honors program is a great way to meet people and have the opportunity to challenge challenge yourselfyourself in a large diversity of classes.” —Kylie Martin

“Th e Honors College is a great way to meet peoplemeet people from diff erent years, who one might not otherwise. Th e fall

of my freshman year, I showed up to a ‘Th ings Th at Matter’ info session and met a Junior who

has since become one of my best friends.” —Brita Olson Spring 2014 18Photos provided by

Cooper Atkinson, Elizabeth Helwick and Rayce Bird

Tela BarkleyTela BarkleyWildlife ResourcesWildlife Resources

“I love to climb, mountain bike “I love to climb, mountain bike and ski, and in the future I and ski, and in the future I would love to have a career in would love to have a career in wildlife rehabilitation.”wildlife rehabilitation.”

Jennifer DownenJennifer DownenMechanical EngineeringMechanical Engineering

“Darkness cannot drive out “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out that. Hate cannot drive out hate: Only love can do that.” hate: Only love can do that.” -Martin Luther King, Jr.-Martin Luther King, Jr.

Taylor KowalskiTaylor KowalskiEnglish, PsychologyEnglish, Psychology

“I like writing books and “I like writing books and vintage dresses.”vintage dresses.”

Krista StanleyKrista Stanley Mathematics, AdvertisingMathematics, Advertising

“Th e trick is to just start, for “Th e trick is to just start, for ‘A journey of a thousand miles ‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’”begins with a single step.’”

MEETEDITORS

the