By Eric Albury | gargoyle@flagler.edu
How often do you pass a smelly, dirty and clothes-tattered homeless man and wonder about anything else other than how he ended up on the streets or how he gets his food every day? Do you ever wonder about something more human to the rest of us? Perhaps his athletic abilities?
By Mari Pothier | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Walking through the beautiful Flagler College rotunda I was on a mission: I was not going to move out of anybody’s way. While I was walking briskly with my head held high I spotted a tourist. He was an old man with a light blue sweat shirt and navy blue baseball cap walking right into my path. I braced myself for contact but at the last minute he saw me and in a startled manner jumped back out of my way.
I did it! I didn’t move.
By Caroline Young | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Flashback to 10 years ago — I was 12 and succumbing to preteen ignorance. I constantly purchased and read articles about how to, basically, have a boyfriend — as if I really needed a boyfriend at 12-years-old. “How to get him to fall head over heels,” “What does his posture mean about his feelings?” and “How to flirt with your hottie” are the titles of some articles I remember trashing my brain with.
By Caroline Young | gargoyle@flagler.edu
It was the only time in my life I actually thought I wanted to die. I crawled from the bottom bunk in my tiny Georgetown dorm I was sharing with another girl for two months last summer. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the one person I call when I do not know what to do – my mother.
By Jason Bell | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Without even thinking, I pick up a Monster Energy drink to do homework or even before I go out for the night. Much like sleeping, it’s almost a necessity to life. With school work and a social life to upkeep, energy drinks have become a regular staple in my diet. As I look on the side of the can it reads, “Tear into a can of the meanest energy supplement on the planet, MONSTER energy.” This makes me think “What the heck am I putting into my body?”
By Emily Hoover | ehoover@flagler.edu Photos by Rob Heinrich We headed west, my boyfriend Rob and I. Southwest to be exact. We meant to head back to Winter Park after enjoying the capitalist decadence that is the nightlife in downtown Disney, but some indescribable force…
By Eliza Jordan | gargoyle@flagler.edu
A Department of Corrections number of V02152 separated my mommy, an inmate, from a free woman for 14 long years as I grew up and apart from her.
You see, this meant that Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving and many other holidays were spent together behind bars. And the things that we could not do behind bars, such as my first bike ride, birthday parties, my first play, or any of my athletic events, were almost just wasted stories for her to hear about. She had to miss out on watching me grow, meeting my friends, helping me through hard times and giving me advice that I knew I could trust.
By Victoria Hardina | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Growing up with Florida summers is the best. If lucky, the days are spent lying outside and absorbing the warmth of the sun, and our only worries were whether or not a cloud will come and block the fabulous rays. But as a friend of mine found out, if you’re not careful, your days are spent in a hospital having surgery to remove the effects of the deathly rays.
By Mari Pothier | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Walking into the Alzheimer’s ward my eyes immediately began to fill up with tears. I tried to contain the drops that dripped from my eyes because I didn’t want to make my grandfather sad. Blinded by the tears I was holding back I struggled to see as we walked down the hall. But then I saw my grandmother wandering aimlessly towards us. She looked at my mother, grandfather and I but continued to walk past. It was then I lost control, she didn’t remember us anymore.
By Courtney Reynolds | gargoyle@flagler.edu After the “Nipplegate” scandal about the Rep. Chris Lee — the married congressman from upstate New York who resigned from because of a shirtless photo he allegedly submitted to Craigslist for a dating ad — we as Americans have to ask…