Tag: Connor Zimmerman ’20
One Crazy Moment
by The Cowl Editor on April 19, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
I want to go back to that one crazy moment:
It was a dark night in a party where I felt particularly estranged. It started like any other late night, with the same people who talked to me in friendly but shallow exchanges. That was until we exchanged glances. I felt paralyzed as I questioned what should be my next move, to stay or advance? You gave a wave and flashed a smile that outshined all the stars in the sky. A thousand thoughts flew across my mind, but only one mattered—the one that told me to not let this conversation end with a good-bye. When I finally came near you, my voice failed me. But you were there for me and helped to keep the moment alive. We listened, laughed, and learned more about each other than I normally would share. For you, it was a burden that I was willing to bear.
I want to go back to the moment that brought us closer together:
I could see that you were having the time of your life. The truth was that this was one of the few nights that I was without strife. We made our move to leave and started to head back. I was desperate for anything that would make this moment stay on track. You said you were hungry and wanted to grab some food, and I almost died of thanks. The cold air sent shivers down our spines and brought us closer together. Never will I be angry at winter again. I wish I could have stayed in that moment, with you and me talking for what seemed like forever. However, I just could not keep it in anymore and told you how I truly felt, something I thought would never happen ever. Your next words impressed themselves upon me like a tattoo: “Why, then, have you never asked me out?”
I want to go back to the moment when you made it real:
The words you said made me feel angry and ashamed. I was not angry at you, no, it was myself that I blamed. You asked the question because you doubted what I said, but the actual truth is far from your thoughts. I had never worked up the courage, even when I was intoxicated, because I thought I was never worthy of you to take the next step. Whenever I look in the mirror, I can only see my flaws, but our conversation made me realize that you saw something new. Whatever it was I do not know, but you gave me the confidence to be true. I promise from now on to never let you think you are not worthy. You should know how I feel every time you are in my sight. I hope this is not the end, but at least we will always have that night.
(UN)-ordinary
by The Cowl Editor on March 15, 2018
Poetry
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
There is no such thing as ordinary.
This word and others are just labels
Used by people who lack true vocabulary.
These phrases just make people feel enabled
To disregard each other.
In reality, everybody is different from one another.
- There is no such thing as being normal, because all people were born abnormal.
- Everyone has their scars, defects, and marks, but these broken parts are what give life sparks.
- It is senseless to judge based on irregularities, since we have more differences than similarities.
There is no such thing as boring.
Only people who refuse to go exploring
And find out what everyone has inside.
Boring is a boldfaced lie used by people who want to hide.
There is much more than just the superficial
It all comes down to being better than prejudicial.
There is no such thing as being a nobody.
The quiet loner or the one who seems to be organized
Are just judgements that are hyperboles.
Trying to get to know those around you will leave you surprised
Because everyone has something that is truly rare.
We are all more than just a body full of air.
The worst thing of all is when we believe in these phrases
When we laugh at ourselves or hang our heads in sadness,
We give power to these words that create only madness.
Everyone deserves to hear only praises,
But some people refuse to dig down
And find what makes them renowned.
Dream Walker
by The Cowl Editor on March 1, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
I was cursed when I was younger, by a witch no less. To walk a thousand years in the minds of others. Those foul harpies always get the last laugh, especially when you steal their magic. My body was suddenly whisked away, and it has been so for 999 years. For those centuries, I have explored the minds of everyone.
I would have killed to be cursed with immortality—at least you get to live a life. Sadly, though, I have been relegated to the idiotic and lesser minds of others. Silently, I have watched people dream of falling in love, of winning glorious victories, of dying slowly, of the feeling of killing someone. I have been in the minds of heroes and villains alike, watching as a bystander. I watched helplessly as I have witnessed everyone’s last dream. Dead people don’t walk, they don’t talk, and they certainly don’t dream. But this pain will soon be over. For now, I rise.
The cool wind hits my face and my eyes slowly begin to open. Paralyzed, I see what is only in front of me—a large tree with a million leaves. I slowly begin to turn my head around and all I see for miles are trees. I look down and find I am covered in moss, dirt, and insects. Even when your curse is over, witches still find a way to piss you off. It takes what seems like forever, but I finally free my body from my dirt-filled prison and stand up. The sound of my joints cracking would make someone think I was 90 years old, not 20. But then again, I have “lived” for a thousand years. Knowing nowhere to go, I begin to walk in a straight line.
After nights of hunger and thirst which I haven’t felt in eons, I leave the woods and enter a small town. I try to shout for help, but my throat is too parched. I begin to make my way to a building, only to almost have my life end just as it began. A vehicle speeds past me, just missing me. God, how I hate humans. I eventually make my way towards the building and I walk in. I hit the jackpot because there is food and water aplenty. I begin to ravenously eat and drink all that I can with everyone watching in horror.
Eventually I feel a hand touch my shoulders, and I turn around to see a giant behind me. He shouts, “What do you think you are doing, little man?”
Little man—clearly he doesn’t realize that the little ones always aim low. It’s the only way to defeat a giant. I see his name on his chest: Reginald. I don’t know the name, but I know the face. This man dreams only of his traumatic experiences abroad where he has faced countless terrors.
With that in mind, I punch him in the gut, and as he bends over I grab his weapon and shoot it into the air. The resounding bang sends Reginald down onto the ground shouting, “Take cover, enemies with heavy fire, a click away.” As Reginald suffers in his panic attack, I take my leave and exit the store.
As I am walking down the street, I begin to realize how much I have missed in my long slumber. Everyone is dressed weirdly, there are enormous buildings that would put the castles of old to shame, there are crazy machines that seem to defy all human knowledge. I come to the realization that this is not my time. This damned witch’s curse has followed me into my real life. I know what I must do, I must find a way to track down this witch and kill her.
I quickly set about trying to find her, yet it proves more challenging than first thought. I mean, it didn’t seem like it would be hard to find an immortal woman, but apparently they know how to stay off the grid. I started by looking at conspiracy stories on some crazy machine called the internet, and I quickly followed the trail of cursed people. It didn’t take long to find out she was in some place called Eastern Europe, in the only place witches live—the woods.
After weeks of riding on strange transportation and trekking through the woods, I finally find the deserted hut that could only house a witch. I quickly avoid all the traps around the house and get in through a broken window.
As I climb into the house, a chilling voice bounces around the room, “So you’ve finally come to die, dream walker.”
“The only one who is going to die is you, immortal hag. I’ve come to take my life back.”
The witch flies down from the roof above, as her hideous, wart-ridden face comes inches away from mine. Her breath begins to melt the dead skin off of my face, as she taunts me, “How are you going to kill me? As you said, I’m immortal.”
I taunt back, “Everyone knows that even witches have hearts, and I have yours in this bag.” I pull a still beating heart out of my bag, and her smirk quickly disappears from her face.
“How did you find my heart, swine?”
“It wasn’t that hard, even witches dream. When you cursed me to walk the dream world for a thousand years, you didn’t count on me finding out your greatest dreams and fears.”
“What do you want of me, imp?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to see your face as I killed you.” And with that I stabbed the heart with a wooden stake, and the witch slowly began to fade away.
Soon everything around me began to blur, and eventually darken. I felt the sensation of falling overcome me, and I continued to fall until I hit the ground.
After several minutes, light began to pervade the darkness and I soon came to my senses. I was back in the woods where I woke up. I began to walk towards where my old village was, and then soon find it. I began to laugh and realize that the world was in my hands. Who could have known the power of dreams?
Three Line Third Wheel Stories
by The Cowl Editor on February 8, 2018
Features
His voice is all I can hear,
And she calls him “dear.”
Can I please just disappear?
—Marisa DelFarno ’18
Walking out of my dorm, my two friends see me and invite me to come to the dining hall.
I find their booth, and they are both sitting on the same side, already done eating.
I sit down and eat in silence, as they feast on each other with their eyes.
—Connor Zimmerman ’20
I love my two best friends, we do almost everything together.
We three drink, sleep, eat, play, and laugh all day,
Sometimes they make it weird and kiss and hold hands, but I don’t mind.
—Jay Willett ’20
It was kind of like the third person on the sidewalk
But worse…
Because I hear one of them whisper, “how do we get rid of her?”
—Sam Pellman ’20
Doctor Love
by The Cowl Editor on February 8, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
“I’m telling you it’s all about the confidence.” I nod my head in response, only half listening. Matt continues to talk at me, but it’s all white noise. I see my friend Jack in the distance, and to escape this hellish nightmare, I quickly call him over, “Hey Jack, c’mon over here.”
Jack reluctantly walks on over, and nods towards Matt. He says to us, “What’s up guys? Haven’t seen you in a little while.”
Matt quickly interjects, “I’m trying to explain what it takes to get a girl to like you.”
Rolling my eyes, I respond, “Okay, please continue explaining why I am going to die alone, while you are going to be living to an old age with a girl that is half yours.”
Matt angrily replies, “This is what I’m talking about. Who is going to want to date you when you do not have any confidence?”
Jack tries to slowly walk away, but if I must endure Matt’s pedantic rant I will not be alone. So, I say, “Jack, what are your thoughts?”
With a spiteful look he says, “I think you are both right. You got to have confidence, but you shouldn’t try to force anything that isn’t there.”
Matt, with his famous selective hearing replies, “See, man, even Jack agrees with me.”
Growing tired of Matt, I say to Jack, “Hey, I have to grab something from my dorm, want to come?”
He nods his head, and we begin to walk away from Matt, who says, “I’ll catch you guys after class and then we can talk some more.”
As we walk, Jack looks at me with a smirk and says, “So he was giving you the talk?”
I laugh as I say, “I’m guessing you have gotten the talk too then.” He nods his head in reply.
I continue on, “Classic Matt. He scores a date on Tinder, and he has to try and help us with our love lives now.”
Jack laughs and says, “Yeah he keeps calling himself Doctor Love.”
I shake my head, “Yeah he has been bragging about that to me too. Do you know what he told me? He said, ‘Don’t be afraid of the dumpster fires.’”
Jack laughs and says, “He told me that too, but odds are he has got himself a dumpster fire.”
I reply, “Yeah, Tinder is no place to find love.”
Living On The Clock
by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Poetry
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
Staring at the ceiling, with a common feeling.
Trying to leave my bed and overcome this dread.
I steel my nerves, cause I’m living on the reserves.
My alarm won’t stop, I slam the button on top.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Looking at the board, it’s pretty clear that I’m bored.
The professor moans on, I respond with a yawn.
My eyes begin to close, and it feels like time slows.
The bell rings, with a sigh I gather all my things.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Sitting in a chair, with a feeling of despair.
The homework is not done, and it feels like a ton.
With no motivation, I sit in frustration.
Hearing that sound, everything fades to the background.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Day does turn to night, but that does not help my blight.
Limping to my dorm, inside rage brews like a storm.
I can’t unlock my door, feeling mentally sore.
Finally, in bed bracing for the day ahead.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
The Resurrection Project
by The Cowl Editor on January 25, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
“What if you could take away your deepest regret?” I stand there looking at the billboard with the sun shining on a laughing couple at a picnic. I stop and look at this billboard every day. It’s basically become ingrained in my mind. Her perfect smile and his little laugh, images of a world so far removed from my own. Jealousy begins to grow within me as I prepare to finish my walk to the tavern in anger.
“You know, it really does work.” I turn around, surprised to see a brunette woman behind me.
I ask her, “What works?”
She smiles and says, “The Resurrection Procedure. I remember being miserable for a long time, about what I obviously cannot remember. But the second I did that procedure, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.”
She begins to walk away. I’m about to chase after her, but I notice a clock hanging from a nearby store and I realize I’m late. So I begin to walk in the opposite direction.
I eventually come to McShane’s Tavern. I head to the back and see Jimmy and Matt at the regular booth. I toss my briefcase inside the booth and join them. With a half empty pitcher, I pour myself a glass of beer.
“Joey, perhaps you could settle this little debate between us,” Matt says.
Before he can finish that thought I blurt out, “I’m going to actually do it. I’m going to go through with the Resurrection Procedure.”
Silence permeates the booth, as both Matt and Jimmy take a long sip of their drinks. Jimmy is the first to speak, “You know, Joey, we realize you’ve had a rough couple of years, but I don’t think this is the answer.”
Matt jumps in and replies, “C’mon, Joey, those people never come out the same.”
I finish my drink and bang the glass on the table, “Well maybe I don’t want the same.”
Jimmy grabs my arm and says, “You had more good times with her than bad. Do you want to erase all of it?”
I shake him off and say, “The good doesn’t matter when its only the bad that I can think about.” I grab my briefcase and walk out.
The sun begins to shine through the clouds on my walk to the clinic the next day. I come to the building, a high-rise behemoth that has “Resurrection” written across it. Across the street is that same billboard with the laughing couple. I walk through the automatic doors and come to a room full of people running around. I walk over to the receptionist’s desk and get a clipboard with papers that need to be filled out.
Hours go by before I get taken into a room. Soon after I enter, the brunette woman whom I had seen the other day comes into the room in a white lab coat. She smiles and says, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
I reply, “Well I would have come sooner if the waiting room wasn’t so busy.”
She laughs, “Yes, well, it is a popular procedure.” She takes my clipboard, and as she looks over the sheets she sits down near a computer.
She says, “Well, Mr. Richards, everything appears in order. So, tell me, what memory are we going to be removing today?”
My hands begin to shake as I say, “My wife.” She nods her head and begins to type into the computer. Stunned, I just sit there silently.
Finally, I work up the courage to say something. “You’re not going to tell me this is a bad idea or warn me or something?”
She looks up from her computer and says, “No, from your file you are clearly above the age to consent to this procedure. If you are having reservations, however…”
Images begin to flash before my eyes: our first date in a restaurant when I couldn’t stop sweating, our first night together where she couldn’t stop smiling, our wedding where we promised to always be together, but it ends the way it always does with her slamming the door on her way out and never coming back.
“Mr. Richards, are you listening to me?”
I look back towards the doctor and reply, “Sorry, what were you saying?”
She shakes her head and says, “Is this something you want to do? Because it can never be undone.”
I turn my head and look back at the billboard of the smiling couple, finally realizing how much the woman looks like my ex-wife. I begin to smile too.
The Gift
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2017
Christmas
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
It must be perfect,
It cannot be any ordinary object.
It must make her smile, laugh, and cry.
It should be the apple of her eye.
Browsing through the stores,
The clock is ticking, and doors are closing.
Sweat begins to run down my face,
It feels like I’m running in a race.
Her friends tell me it should be chic.
I’m actually starting to freak.
My friends tell me it should be legendary.
I might as well be buried.
Google tells me it should be from the heart.
Maybe I’m just not that smart.
I don’t know why I can’t think of anything,
Maybe it’s because this just isn’t any fling.
I really care about what she thinks of me,
And I was hoping this gift would fill her with glee.
Then an idea strikes me, and I know this is the one,
This is no hit, it’s a home run.
I give her the gift, and as she unwraps it,
I start to worry and think maybe it’s time to split.
She gasps and then hugs me tight.
I take a deep breath knowing it’s going to be all right.
She opens the scrapbook of our memories with much effect;
She closes it up and says it’s perfect.
Homecoming
by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2017
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
Sinking into my couch, I begin to close my eyes. The sweet aromas of baking cookies travel around the house and begin to make me tired. I let out a long yawn, when suddenly my phone begins to buzz. I grab my phone lazily and look at it. Several texts pop up on my phone, but the only one that I see, like usual, is, “Usual place, same time?”
I reply, “You know it.” I switch my phone back to its home screen and see I have 20 minutes to nap before I get going. Yeah, it’s good to be home.
Driving through the night, car headlights flash before my eyes as I travel down the highway. I put on my blinker and turn into the place. I pull into the parking lot and see there are eight other cars already parked. The gang’s all here. I walk into the place and walk over to the usual table. Eight guys are huddled over a small bar table laughing like one of them had just said the funniest joke on Earth. I grab a stool from the table next to it and pull it over. They all look at me and shout, “Heeeey, Brian is back!”
A tinge of nostalgia begins to hit me. I laugh and reply, “C’mon, don’t get emotional on me. What did college do to you guys?” They all say various responses at the same time as if I can hear what everyone is saying at once.
When they settle down, Kevin asks me, “So man, what is college like for you?”
I reply with the basic answer, “Pretty sure like yours, man. Classes are kind of difficult, but I live for the weekends.” That gets everyone excited. They all raise their drinks and take a giant gulp. The waitress comes over and hands everyone their burgers, placing one in front of me.
Frank, seeing my surprised face, says to me, “You think we don’t know your order by now, man? We only came here every weekend during high school.” We all laugh at this and take a bite out of our burgers. The grease and juice drizzles down my chin as the burger falls like a rock in my stomach. I realize how much I have missed this, how much I have missed them. I’m not the only one, as the nostalgia strengthens its claim over us.
John says, “You guys remember our trip down to Block Island? Those were the times.”
Colin replies, “Dude, what about our trip to Montréal, that was legendary.”
Ryan says, “I can’t even remember those trips, man.”
I reply, “So your usual weekend.”
We laugh, and Ryan shakes his head. “Yeah, man, you’re right.”
I look over at Ben and begin to laugh. I hadn’t seen it before because of the lighting, but I say, “Ben, you legitimately look like a serial killer with your shaved head. I bet you don’t even drive past a police station for fear they will take you in.”
Sarcastically, Ben says, “Funny, man, funny. Even with a shaved head I look twice as good as you.”
Mike jumps in and says, “Yeah, Ben, your crazy eyes don’t help either.”
Ben shakes his head, “So I go to a military school, get over it. Next year, I don’t even have to shave my head.”
We all begin to laugh again. With every laugh the nostalgia has grown stronger and stronger until Jason finally blurts out, “Man, imagine if we all went to the same college.”
We all nod our heads solemnly thinking about what could’ve been. We take another sip of our drinks, when Frank decides to break the tension, “We’d all probably end up in a ditch somewhere.”
Colin replies, “That would have to be some massive ditch, especially if you fell in with us.”
Laughing again we finish our drinks and burgers and begin the usual goodbyes, “I got to get back to my family.” “I got to finish up my paper.” “I got to go see my girlfriend,” etc. Walking back to my car the nostalgia ebbs, but something else begins to grow in its place. Regret, guilt, sadness.
I look back and think this is our future. Yeah, it’s good to be back home, but for how long will it be home?
The Skin Suit
by The Cowl Editor on October 26, 2017
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
In class, my professor lectures about some boring equation that he has up on the board. I decide to ignore him and spend the last fifteen minutes taking a nap. As I close my eyes, I come to the place I love—the stage, the lights shining in my face, the absolute silence, the tension that you can almost taste, and the best part: I can be whoever I want to be. The only thing that can limit me is my imagination, and possibly the script. I can be the knight in shining armor, the weary warrior, or the despicable villain. I can actually be someone exciting. I open my eyes. I see that everyone is leaving, and as I gather my materials the professor says, “Make sure to have a spooktacular Halloween.”
I leave the room and begin to walk down the hallway. As I turn the corner, a person in a hoodie tackles me. As I slam to the ground, the guy pulls off his hoodie and starts laughing, “Did I scare you, drama queen?”
I get up and he laughs and slaps me on the back. “You should have seen your face. It was precious, man.” On the way to the dining hall, Daryl asks me, “Hey, are you going to the Monster Rager tonight?”
I look at him and reply, “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
He replies back, “You know, let off a little steam, socialize, act normal, get your Monster Mash on (or smash, for that matter).”
I laugh at him and say, “Look, man, I’ll pass.”
He shakes his head. “Alright Dylan, have it your way. I’ll just have to come up with something to tell Sarah, ’cause word is she’s hoping you are going to be there tonight.”
I laugh at him. “What do I have that Sarah could want? Trust me, she can find someone better tonight to mash or bash or whatever.”
As I come out of the dining hall, I bump into a person. I hear a clang on the ground and look up. I see a girl picking up her phone and then light brown hair hits me in the face as the girl comes up from the ground. Before I can even think, she goes to hug me. She says, “Hey, I haven’t seen you in forever! Are you going to the party tonight?”
I reply, “Um, I don’t know yet, Sarah. Haven’t decided and all.”
She replies, “Oh that’s too bad, I was really looking forward to hanging with you tonight. I guess just let me know if you change your mind.”
With a cute wave she begins to walk away, and I feel like banging my head against a wall.
At night, I’m in my room with a pile of shirts on my bed. I look in the mirror, as I hear a knock on my door and Daryl comes in. He takes one look at me and my bed and says, “Dude, you are a…dude. Pick a shirt and it will all be good. Sarah likes you, you like her. It’s a cycle, man.”
Dejected, I fall onto my bed and moan again.
Daryl walks over to my desk, leaves something there, and begins to walk out of the room. “Hey, man, it’s cool. I’m heading to the party in a few, join me if you feel like it.” He closes the door. I get back up and take one last look at the mirror and at my reflection. All I see is a puny, five-foot-two, anxious, lousy, infinitesimal freak. In the grand scheme of things, who would even miss me? I punch the mirror, and the glass falls to the floor. I look over and I see a pumpkin on my desk. Daryl brought a freaking pumpkin into my room. Frustrated, I take the pumpkin and smash it to the ground. Suddenly, mist comes out of the pumpkin and begins to surround the room. I begin to cough and I can’t see anything as my eyes tear.
I hear sounds bouncing all around my room. I can barely make out what is happening with the echoes becoming louder and louder. Then suddenly it all becomes clear. “What do you wish for?” Freaked out, I crawl my way to the door, but it’s jammed. Again, “What do you wish for?” I jump and head for where I think the window is, only to hear, “What do you wish for?”
Angrily I shout, “I wish I could be anyone but myself!”
The mist begins to disappear like it was never there. With everything back to normal, except for smashed pumpkin and glass on the floor, I head back to my bed to pick a shirt, but all that is there is this beige thing. On top of it is a notecard that says, “Put this on and your dream will come true.” I pick it up. It feels smooth, yet rough. Soft, yet tough. Kind of like skin.
Suddenly, I feel something on my neck. The thing begins to crawl around my body and wrap itself around me. Before I can move it, it covers my eyes and darkness envelops me. Light slowly peeks through and I look around and decide to pick up a shard of glass. All I see in it is the surroundings of my room. Then, suddenly I see a tall, lanky, blond guy standing where I am. It changes and I see a short, bearded, fit guy in his place. I begin to realize whoever I picture in my head I become.
I walk into the Monster Rager and I look around me. Everyone seems to be having a good time; no one says hi to me. I begin to think maybe this is not all in my head, and then I see Sarah and everything slows down. I realize this is my chance. I can finally be someone that deserves her. I change into some type of guy straight out of a magazine. I walk near her and say, “Hey my name is Brad. What’s up?”
She looks my way, and replies, “Hey, I’m Sarah.”
I ask, “Hey, you’re in my theater class, right?”
She says, “Maybe. To be honest, you don’t look familiar.”
I tell her, “Oh yeah, I’m kind of new here.”
She nods and says, “Hey, if you’re in theater, have you seen Dylan anywhere? I’ve been looking for him all night.”
My heart stops. I can’t believe she just said that. Dylan, of all people. I walk away and head to the bathroom.
My reflection shows me this ridiculously handsome, fit, and tall guy. And she is looking for Dylan. I give her everything any girl could want, and she is looking for me. I try and rip this suit off me, but then again I hear, “You can be anyone but yourself. That was your wish.” I reply, “C’mon this isn’t real. Just let me take this suit off and then you can go find some other person.”
I hear a laugh in my head, “Why do you think you can change into anyone you think of? Once someone puts me on, he or she becomes one of my many faces.” I begin to try and grab my face. I can’t seem to touch anything. I go for my clothes, shoes anything, but it feels like I’m grasping at air. I look in the mirror and I begin to disappear. First my legs, then my hips, then my chest. By the time I can only see my face I say, “Well, I guess we’ll see if anyone misses me.”