Ride the Wind

As i sit and watch the trees

The leaves flow in the breeze

The leaves flow going wherever they are taken

Free to float without a care

i wish to live like that

As i sit and watch to realine

i sit and think about the birds

They live their life as i live mine

The beautiful bluejays

Not a care in the world

Riding the wind with the leaves

What is it like?

Living those days

But now i wonder,

What if i was one of their kind

Where would i go

What will i see

i wonder how

How would i feel

What would i enjoy

Will i get to ride the wind

With the leaves in the breeze

And the bluejays

flying for days

Do i want that

Im happy with this

i like to sit and watch

But now I wonder,

What if i could ride the white ferrari

on the skyline 

to the nights of another place

See a new face

As i sit and watch 

the leaves flow in the trees

i think about a place

That tells a story

Where people have come and gone

But i create that bond

i wonder if i can find that place 

As the birds fly with grace.

a quick view into a Frozen Dream

The igloo that I inhabit is purely built out of ice. Blocks of ice stacked on top of one another until they create a dome that only raises about 3 feet off the ground. Before I assembled the dome, I had dug a pit that was about 3 feet deep into the frozen crust, under where I would eventually build my icy dome.

I had finished my igloo project, filling it with a deer and bear skin bed along with a small, vintage wood stove. Although the wood stove did little for me on the treeless coast of Greenland, I got creative and burned the oil collected from the fish I caught. I also brought with me a huge collection of Dura-logs which would sustain me for my stay in Greenland.

Every night I clung to the skins that entrapped my body in a cocoon of unsatisfactory temperatures, not cold enough to freeze but not warm enough to not question why in hell I would leave the Southern Californian bliss to come to the frozen tundra of despair.

But what made it all worth it was my constant adventure of navigating extreme winter conditions and the amazing art that lives and breathes in this magical place. My mornings consisted of sitting up and rotating 90 degrees to my heater where I boil coffee. The warm liquid slipped down my throat, heating my insides. My usual days consisted of taking an extremely long time to slip myself into the thick snow gear. Fur lined my hood and tickled my windburned cheeks as I crawled through the tunnel of ice that leads in and out of my igloo. From there I set off on the deserted icy planes, passing the occasional seal, with the intention of continuing my photography collection on the yearly migrating walruses.

image found on Pinterest


Seaside

by the sea she sits

watching the waves crash over and over again

her blank stare collided with the violent ocean movements

her fragile body sank into the warmed sand as the water slinked up the beach

desperately trying to touch her

next to her a book that reads Gone With The Wind laid on a small quilt

the checkered baby pink and faded lime green quilt also held an old fashioned film camera and a what seemed to be a collection of shells

at that moment I knew nothing about her accept she may possibly be a romantic due to the book

she interested me because she looked so unbelievably in place

she seemed to simply exist, without disrupting any of the everyday inhabitants, very quietly and naturally

above her seagulls circled in a draft

their wings sat almost as still as she did

she wore a white silk dress and a large scarf that wrapped around her whole upper body

then I see her hand lift and point out into the wide plane of water

she soon retracted her hand, probably remembering that there was no one to show what she had spotted

the water stood still and glassy all the way out to the horizon

I followed in the general direction her finger pointed and saw a large explosion of water, soon after there was another much smaller spout

my best guess is a humpback whale and her calf because it was around the time for their migration

soon after seeing the whale I picked up my things and walked down the beach in the opposite direction of the mysterious woman

hopefully you enjoyed a short glimpse into my outside perspective on an interesting stranger

found on Adobe Stock

Cool Pool

You know that feeling.

Like when you sense something move in the cool stagnant water

underneath the surface,

where it shouldn’t,

it is.

Like being away,

the opposite of home,

and even as you jerk your leg away 

you can feel it cramp,

ripping hot.

You can feel the vessels crimp;

doubled,

twisted,

restricting you,

keeping you just within reach,

within reach of the cool,

the cool of the bottom of the pool

where the water doesn’t move

or isn’t supposed to.

from terra galleria

The Chimp wants to be a Chemist

Have you ever met someone with an abundance of dreams and ambitions, with a passion to make a change and to make something out of themselves? Someone who wishes, and knows they can live outside of the box and innovate what they think to be a world in need of innovation? The next question, do you know someone who has these ambitions but is not given the means to complete their goals, or they get trapped in the everything-sucking whirlpool of society. So instead they have to sit at a desk, working a normal person job, stewing in their ideas.

I know someone like this, I live with someone like this. Although it makes for interesting conversation, these kind of people feel like they did not get to reach their full potential. And as time ticks away so does their opportunity to make something great out of themselves. This leaves them feeling angry, feeling like the world is pinned against them, and quite helpless all at the same time. But these people have responsibilities. And even though they feel all these feelings they have to repress them so that they can provide, in my case, for their family. The product is an incomplete and unsatisfied person.


I have been affected by this incompleteness because they have, unintentionally, pushed their need for greatness onto me. All the opportunities they did not take, they require I take. In hopes to save me from a “normal life”. All the ideas they have that have never taken off, they expect me to make them into a reality.

Well, that’s my experience!

image found on shutterstock

Barnacles on the Boat

On the bottom of my ship,

Clumped and clustered the stiff beasts lie,

If I face them all I might just die,

They hide in the safety of the sea,

So they are not visible to anyone but me,

The razored tipped bumps gather as time goes on,

And I must keep sailing,

Though they will never be gone,

And ship I am,

Though it’s not for all,

Some stand proud and tall,

They are whales instead,

And they wear their barnacles on their head,

Barnacles make it hard to be,

But that is life a great captain once said to me,

You must accept the barnacles if you are going to sail the sea.

Image found on dreamstime.com

A Page of Four Years

February has brought about the time to create senior pages. I have spent time scrolling through my camera roll, searching for the perfect photos that can encapsulate four years of high school into a single 8″x10″ page.

I found photos of my friends. Photos of projects I had done in art class. Photos I had taken for AP World History projects. Sifting through hundreds of memories to find the most valuable moments has proven to be more difficult than I had thought. I have narrowed it down to about forty photographs, which, if I were to use them all, would be about a centimeter wide each.

While small on paper, many memories still remain as vivid as the day I experienced them. I remember carving pumpkins at my freshman Halloween dance. Is that memory less valuable than the time I hung my art in an exhibit? Do I feature friends, experiences, or accomplishments? What photograph will take up the most space?

As I sift through the photos, I imagine what words will be written on a page. I could write a classic senior quote, a thank you to those who helped me through school, or simply my name in a basic font.

I know my senior page will encapsulate my high school experience as I remember it. I just need to find what moment will serve as the biggest picture.

Yearbook
Image Credit: Josten’s Memory Book

Middle School

The feeling that you are getting older is daunting. It’s full of ups and downs, happy memories as well as sad times.

Photo credit: Ojai Valley School

It starts in sixth grade, but some schools say sixth is part of elementary school. That first day is hard for everyone because it consists of meeting new teachers, traveling to different classes, making new friends.

Then comes seventh grade comes around- you are getting older, having more challenging classes, and forming friend groups. Seventh graders obtain freedom, but the teachers expect more from them.

Then the last year of Middle comes around: Eighth grade. These students are the top dogs of the middle school campus. They have survived everything from petty middle school drama to hard in-class essays.

Middle school is a period to figure yourself out. You are trying different electives and sports, figuring out your niche.

Middle schools prepare kids for their futures and the rest of their academic life.

The feeling that you are getting older, its daunting.

It’s full of ups and downs, happy memories as well as sad times.

It starts in sixth grade, some schools say sixth is part of elementary school.

That first day is hard. Meeting new teachers, traveling to different classes, making new friends.

Platter

Today I sat down and threw a platter on the wheel. In the end, it will be a chips and salsa platter once I attach another bowl I made to it. I was throwing with a larger amount of clay than I’m used to, and I was seriously struggling. I’m sitting there, sweating, in my stiff wooden chair, cursing and extremely angered at this lump of clay that won’t center for anything. Finally, it centers enough so I can continue. I get it into a nice shape and feel better about my ceramic abilities. Then I go to smooth it, can’t find my usual smoothing rib, and use this old one. Suddenly it slices my finger. I’m bleeding all over this platter, exhausted and mad. I finish the platter with thick clay water, bloody clay water all over my hands and the platter. And surprisingly I feel more accomplished than I have for a while (after finishing a thrown piece).

Moral of the story. Perseverance will not only end with a nice platter, but you will finish your task feeling satisfied and accomplished.

photo taken off of The Arts Center sight


Music

Music is everywhere, even if you do not realize it. It could be playing in a shop you are walking by, or it could be someone playing the trumpet on Hollywood Boulevard.

There are so many different genres of music, for example, pop and blues. Radio shows like Kiss FM and the Heat predominantly play popular songs, like Good Days by SZA. You can find any music genre of your liking on the radio. Music streaming sites such as Apple Music and Spotify allow listeners to create playlists to their liking.

Photo credit: Spotify

Listening to music one thing, but making it something else. Being able to sing a song or play a chord on the guitar is another feeling. Making music is so moving and beautiful. Even if you are not good at it, making music is an art form. Depending on your mood, for instance, sad music is a very different mood than happy music.

Music is all around us, and it is being made and listened to every single second of every single day.