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#OctPoWriMo Day 1-3

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Different from NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month, because it takes place in the month of April, #OctPoWriMo is a 31-day blogging challenge to write a poem a day for the month of October.

I have already broken the rules with my late posting, but I wanted to publish my poems every three days instead.

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#OctPoWriMo Day 1: Picking Up The Challenge

I used to sit down at the computer and let the rhythmic words flow out through my fingertips.
Soft phrases somehow carving their way through a frozen sea of empty thoughts,
And there I was, typing away without a care in the world or inkling I was doing anything wrong.

What happened to the poetry-writing college student who spun melodic stories just for fun?
Where were the ramblings or even the oozing mess that was cleaned up from the editor’s floor?

It seems as though a challenge is needed to pull all the jumbled nouns, verbs, and adjectives out from within my head.
Perhaps a month-long challenge to record the images dancing wildly on the edge?

 

#OctPoWriMo Day 2: Sounds Familiar

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How to Experience Lake Tahoe Without Burning Down Your Cabin

Resized_20170923_105516A billowing pile of smoke was rising from the fire we had lit inside the antique wood-burning fireplace that was housed inside the authentic, hand-made old-fashioned log cabin we rented in South Lake Tahoe through Airbnb. I could feel my eyes begin to water as the white indoor clouds reached the vaulted, lodge-pole daring ceilings upstairs.

“Maybe we should open up a window?” My friend was attempting to stifle the smoke in the fireplace after trying to circulate the heat from the flames around the living room.

“Yeah, maybe that’s best,” I coughed. I took a quick look upstairs to possibly open up another window. I couldn’t tell at first if we had killed our other friend, who has asthma and was lying in a bed upstairs until I heard the sounds of snoring from underneath the comforter return to their normal steady rhythm. Read the rest of this page »

Our Trip to Ontario, Canada

Screen Shot 2017-09-20 at 6.47.36 AM“So, why on earth are you in Canada if you’re from California?” The young man was standing just outside the Toronto Eaton Centre passing out flyers for something or other when he struck up a conversation between my sister and myself. We were heading toward the crosswalk and on our way to grab a couple of Canadian beers and pizza.

My sister turned to the guy with the flyers again. “We just wanted to visit for fun.”

The real reason falls somewhere between my sister’s weird obsessions with the Great White North and my desire to travel the entire globe. Canada was not my first choice, but I was curious to see how America’s hat actually lived. Read the rest of this page »

Looking Back

FullSizeRenderI can distinctly remember imagining myself at 16 when I was 12 years old. I pictured myself driving a red convertible down my suburban street on the edge of Hanford with my sister, who would be turning 13 in the scenario, to the mall near Lacey Avenue. For some reason, whatever job I was going to have at 16 was going to provide enough money for me to buy my own luxury car.

Fast forward four years later to 16 as I imagine myself in college studying architecture and getting ready to graduate with my degree. I picture myself living in a cool New York apartment not too far away from the private University I’m attending. As a 20-year-old English major, I pictured myself entering my late 20’s becoming increasingly well known as a journalist at the LA Times. Read the rest of this page »

What Is Art, And What Art Deserves To Be In Museums?

IMG_9992“What is art?” A short older lady with graying hair asked the high school intermediate art class. She waited for the small group of students sitting behind art supplies that were laid out on top of long wooden folding tables to slowly raise their hands. She pointed at a girl sitting near the back of the room. “Yes, you.”

“Art has to be beautiful,” she paused for a moment. “It should be a realistic reflection of all the good things God has created.”

Mind you, I was attending a private Christian school, and everything anyone said about anything had something to do with Jesus.

“Okay, but what about the post-modern art we see nowadays in pop-up galleries and museums?” She started to walk slowly down the row of parallel tables towards the back of the room. “What about the ‘art’ (she threw up air quotes) that isn’t realistic?” Read the rest of this page »

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