Hillcrest High School - Impact Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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UNTITLED ■K im sitting here thinkin an it suddenly came to me its here no its not here but its everywhere it must be or i wouldnt have this feelin yes a feel in a feelin i cant explain then suddenly i realized i dont know what im lookin for how could i i dont know what it is i still dont know an i guess i never will but i never give up lookin i just cant somethin inside is drivin me on i dont know what but its still drivin me on an i guess itll always drive me on on an on till i die an when that day comes i have the feelin that i will find it an if i do itll only be for a second but for that precious second ill see it an i II see it good an all the world will see it an all the world will see what i see an all the world will know what i know an theyll gaze in wonder an theyll gaze in fright an theyll gaze in love an in hate an with all the other emotions on this world an theyll remember it like they never remembered anythin before an theyll live with it an theyll die with it until the end of time by Klaus J. Gerkin The yearbook staff wish to extend their sincere thanks to Reverend Blackmore of Emmanuel United Church for spending his time and effort in judging this contest.

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WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF History was my first class this morning. I had had a late night last night, and with the aid of the typically stimulating lecture, voiced in an undulating monotone, I somehow managed to drift off into a sound sleep. My dreams, probably due to the effect of the atmosphere on my subconscious, were very un- pleasant in nature. I dreamt that I had been sent down to the office with another of a long list of crimes to which I had succombed during my school life. My mind wandered as I dwelt upon the fearful and hideous injustices which no doubt awaited me there. I had LANE around the office, CROUCHed inconspicuously behind the leg of a chair. As the minutes dragged on, and my back began to ache, my presence was noticed by one of the office staff. I was pulled out from my secure position, and though I tried to look innocent, I was subject- ed to an exAUSTIN ' interrogation, impreganted with BLACK threats, all of which completely hor- rified me. I spoke up in defense of myself, arguing that society was WONG about me and that as a YOUNG person, I had been victimized by the numerous pitfalls of school life. After a second grilling under flood lamps, I was dizzy and in a HAYES, and on top of that I had a severely AIKENHEAD. I desperately tried to jusitfy my actions by saying that I had been just trying to be one of the BOYCE. Rather recklessly I said that it was a DOHERTY trick trying to condemn me with a bad reputation. In an attempt to appeal to their psychological nature I stated that there was NORTON the MEAGHER with me, other than a basic sence of insecurity. My sparkling defense was countered with dire predictions that I was hopelessly SEASONed in the ways of crime, and that there was not a RAY of hope for me NUNN at all. I persisted in a devastatingly poetical manner that the valley of my life lay before me, a TRUDEL, wherein the path of my life would extend, as straight as an HARROW. At last my previously patient interrogator passed the boundariesof his endurance, and in a fiendish and malicious tone threatened that if I didn ' t start cooperating he would STAPLE my ears to my head and BOLTON a ball and chain about my neck. I was appalled beyond belief by these ghoulish intimidations upon my welfare. I was told with the intolerant flare of a bilingual voice that I already had one foot in LAGRAVE and that I would soon wallow in LEMAIRE of misery and criminal destruction. Before I could regain my breath from these searing remarks I was sneeringly told that they would be willing to CAMPBELL at any odds that I would end my days as some sort of unskilled or unemployed labourer, a HAYseed, a ditch digger, or possibly a PAINTER. Once more unable to regain my composure, I was told that I could get my COTE and leave and that I wasn ' t VITALI important to the school. Almost in tears I heard in the poetical rhythm of flawless English that I had DUNLOPed off my own head with the TAYLORed cut of my recurring criminal actions. These final ghastly metaphors made me feel like the helpless quarry of the heartless HUNTER. My valiant resistance at last defeated, I felt a tingle as the HARRIS on my head stood on end. 1 realized with a deep feeling of injustice that by ADDINALL my unintentional mistakes to- gether it would definitely give the impression that I had behaved BRADLEY. My depressing dream was now interrupted by the sharp, metallic sounds of the teacher ' s ruler coming down repeatedly on the top of my head. This was succeeded by the distressing an- nouncement that I must go to the office and face the consequences. by A-Nonymous

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PHOTOGRAPHY Alan Patrick John Connolley BUSINESS MANAGER Doug Street ADVERTISING Tom Farrell THANK GOD THE BOOK ' S DONE t LITERARY Bob Wills Jo-Ann Noble (Editor) Vk£7 W - rife