Happy New Year from all of us here at Adsum! Before we roll out our next Winter edition, we invite you to look back at some of the best literary and artistic works from last year. This special edition was created last summer by one of our Co-Editors-in-Chief, Emily Chinn, to commemorate a great year for the magazine. Enjoy!
We are proud to present our Fall 2015 publication, the Emerald edition! Take a look, and if you like what you see, feel free to share!
Check out our first issue of the semester! We had some really talented writers and artists share their work during this round of submissions, and we’re featuring a musical piece for the first time.
Copied from Facebook:
Hey all, just a reminder that our official email account through USC is still inaccessible. Please direct all email to our new temporary account, “firstname.lastname@example.org”. As soon as our old account is reopened, we will return to the official email. If you have emailed us at all since December, please resend to this new Gmail, as we have not had access to the account since then.
Also, our first submission drive will begin soon, and we’re always looking for more people to join the staff. Shoot us an email if you or someone you know is interested in joining, or just if you want more information about our organization. Thank you!
By Camille Bradshaw
It would be a slow descent,
Into the deep and smokey,
Creepy and murky darkness
But I threw away my flashlight,
Packed it as tightly as I could,
When I Try to Push Past the Anxiety
By Camille Bradshaw
As a little girl I wished I lived in an igloo.
I could be friends with polar bears, learn
To start bonfires, eat s’mores for dinner.
Too bad I was frightened of leaving home.
Now I sit in my dorm room looking
Out at the cold expanse of college.
People pass by, smile, say hi.
I dream of making best friends, adventuring
Past the boundaries, discussing life.
Too bad I am stuck in my igloo.
I keep thinking I’m trying to tear down
The ice blocks, reach out and touch the frozen
Figures that pass my icy façade.
I keep thinking I would kill to be outside of this fortress
That locks me.
I keep thinking I want something warm—
That rattles me to the core,
Rather than the ice that slowly hardens my heart.
But when I look down I see reality.
My steady hands add another block to the wall:
Another layer to protect me from them.
Them from me.
That Helpless Feeling
By Shelby White
I clench my phone and listen to my friend’s screeching sting deep to the core of me.
But it was a different guy, she said. He told her she looked lovely that night. That her white dress made her look sweet. His princess. They always called her that. I practically heard her favorite red heels click on the cemented ground as she held his hand when he called her that.
He led her to that Italian place on 3rd and Western. I’ve always hated it there, she told me once. But she ate there for him. She smiled when her order came. He cracked a grin at her excitement, but it didn’t reach his eyes, she says. The waiter came back as customary, his polite grin reaching his eyes, she remembers. She’s laughed at the waiter’s joke. He ignored the waiter, grabbed her hand and dragged her out. She only smiled, it wasn’t a big deal, she told him. And me. He didn’t listen to any of it. Her pain dripped from her wrist through his tight grip and stained her white dress. It hurt, she told me.
But my poor white dress, she cries. The one that made her his princess. She didn’t feel like one that night, she told me. I couldn’t picture that fairytale either.
“Hello? Are you even listening?”
“I heard every word,” I sigh. “But did you?”
Taking Too Damn Long
By Shelby White
Time wasting. I’m anxiously awaiting
For his arrival, his presence brings peace.
Downing Jack Daniels to handle my grief,
But this source of relief has me panting,
Digesting, desiring your promise
to persist. Punk-ass pretenses,
he dupes me with swindling sentences
that cause more pain than him being honest.
Time wasted. Now I’m wasted, rambling to space.
Coherent thoughts left my remains restless,
puking poignant realities of what
I made genuine, what he said would change.
Now he walks through the door, mouth turned up;
But I’m turned off as her scent spreads our home.
You can now see the October Issue of Adsum here on our site! Happy reading!
Adsum is looking for submissions again! Send in yours to email@example.com by October 17th for the chance to be featured in our October post. No theme, so write/paint/photograph/create whatever and however you want.
We need to refresh the membership roster for Adsum. If you are not a staff member of Adsum but would like to be and you have NOT emailed us this semester about joining, please email us at firstname.lastname@example.org with your full name and USCID # so we can add you to the official membership roster.
If you were a member last year and want to continue working with us this semester, please also send us your information.