A Crack at Travel Writing as a Genre:
If there was one piece of advice I gave myself before landing in Florence, the city where classical learning blossomed after a millennium of darkness… it was to avoid being a tourist. I came here to feel, to explore, and to learn. The aspirations for my journey were clear-cut, leave the selfie stick in New York and bring an open mind to Europe. Continue reading
I kept waiting for it to hit me during my last couple weeks in the states. I packed, but I didn’t feel it. I boarded the plane, but I didn’t feel it. I’m here, and I’m still not sure I feel it. Continue reading
A year ago I decided 2015 was going to be “The Year of the Writer.” As other new years resolutions crept down the rabbit hole, this one proudly stood above ground and even climbed a few trees.
I started a blog which gained just under 1,500 followers in a year. Continue reading
Ella had just gotten back together with Eric, and although Amelia disapproved Ella was one of her best friends and would take her word for it that Eric had changed. They had been on and off again for more than a quarter of their lives. One graduated college and the other in her junior year, we thought it was time for them both to move on with their lives, to stop holding each other back (more so Eric holding Ella back). After weeks of speculated cheating on his part, everyone truly believed Eric had finally been flushed down the toilet. Continue reading
I requested a warm affection
But received a hot addiction.
I wanted soul in his step
But witnessed stepping into his soul.
I asked for his hand
But arrested his heart.
And like a perfect rose set aflame
Burnt are the passions in love’s bitter game.
Stereotyping is human nature. As an education major I am influentially trained to treat all students the same, and all teachers are molded into politically correct individuals. But all the education in the world cannot stop the involuntary and compulsive need to judge, to stereotype, and to treat others like dirt for no reason.
I am not only talking about race. I want to focus on something more personal than the way a person looks, acts, or dresses. There is an even greater, more dangerous stereotype that does not come from strangers. It comes from your friends, your family, and all those who are close to you.
When you become friendly with another person the dynamic you share changes. It’s as if the sun has set on that awkward ‘getting to know each other’ phase and now the general way you feel most comfortable presenting yourself to that human being is brought forth. Although I never try to be “fake,” I admit that I act differently around dissimilar groups of friends. It is not something I consciously control, but I do find myself playing the class clown as well as the advice giver, depending on what others expect of me.
Frozen hearts could thaw
By your sweltering embrace.
The crisp winter breeze
Never kissed your finger tips.
And the whitest snow
Broiling beneath your boots.
I never knew a Christmas
So devoid of the bitter
Cold I once suffered