Beauty in my Backyard

I think humans have developed this extraordinary ability to ignore the minuscule. We go about our everyday lives without paying any attention to the little joys all around us.

Thoreau, the Transcendentalist philosopher we are studying in English class, spent a great length of time at Walden Pond. He took up residence in a ramshackle house which he refused to upkeep and lived the most simple of lives out in the wilderness. Though I do not believe myself capable of his feat (I would grow lonely within a week), I admire his efforts to console nature for advice.

The other day, I was laying in a hammock when I spotted so many tiny insects in the soil around me. Within a two-foot radius, I saw green bugs crawling up blades of grass, ladybugs munching on leaves, and a huge number of ants scurrying over the dirt. It was beautiful. I guess I had never before considered how much life there was in my back garden.

They are always here – the little sources of beauty – whether they come from nature or another. We are just so used to turning a blind eye and a deaf ear. We have let ourselves become distracted by materialism, work, or responsibility so that we overlook one of the best parts of life: the details. I want to open my eyes and ears again and appreciate every last grain of sand, a speck of dust, snowflake, and ladybug.


To be sure, unsure, etc.

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I don’t know much about most things, but I do know that some things are just supposed to happen, and some are not –

I know that the moon is supposed to rise in the east and that dogs are supposed to bark at each other through chain link fences and that pomegranates are supposed to stain my shirt sleeves

and I know I would never want to be inside when they sky looks the way it did tonight.

But I’m not so sure that things are supposed to be like this;

I am not so sure that the pepper tree I stopped at today is the same type of pepper tree that I grew up with. It didn’t remind me of home in the same way they usually do. It should have been familiar to me, and it wasn’t.

I’m not at all sure of people like you, and I am not sure that the world should be melting and that we should all just be okay with it.

How should I be allowed to miss things before they’re gone? How can I possibly miss you when my hands are on your face and you’re standing directly in front of me? I’m not sure how that is even possible, and yet I do.

I must remind myself to look up every once in a while.

The Smell of Rain

Every inhalation of Petrichor,

Every breath I take sitting and watching the teardrop water fall to the ground.

I am calm, grounded, grey.

I can’t describe the smell of rain in scents, only in feelings;

calm: an encompassing blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a companion sitting by my side. We are together, we are in love, we are safe, or at least we think we are in the moment.

brave: walking alone on an empty road. Only thoughts to accompany me. I am strong, I am powerful, I am one with the nature that surrounds me. Fuck the world, society, my responsibilities; I will walk until my legs give out. And when I collapse, my time has come. Like a wild rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.

sad: the sky is crying, so am I. But the sky’s tears feed the earth, maybe mine will too.

solitude: lonely, but lonely is not always bad. Today it’s peaceful, but yesterday it was harrowing . But today it’s peaceful

The smell of rain

One second it drizzles, the next it pours.

Ever changing.

Thunder follows lighting.

A bolt hits a tree, a fire starts

It is only natural.

Some days the rain makes me feel gloomy, somedays it makes me feel safe.

Today I feel thankful.

Thankful for the sun, thankful for the rain, thankful for the world, thankful to feel something.

Thankful for the memories.

The scent of Soaftsoap Milk and Golden Honey reminds me of kindergarten. The scent of petrichor reminds me of a time when things were different.

I can’t go back to kindergarten, but I’m starting to believe that I can go back to being happy.

Here I sit, watching the rain, breathing in the scent;

I feel gloomy like the sky, but I am grounded like the earth. my emotions are ever-changing just like the rain.

I am one day closer to jubilation.

I am breathing in the Petrichor

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powerless (it’s ok)

sometimes i think about how powerless I am,

how powerless we are.

how that even when your world or mine will stop,

the waves would still crash.

how time doesn’t stop for anyone.

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how nothing really matters.

how the world couldn’t care less about you or who you love.

when i go surfing is probably when i feel most powerless;

it’s not a bad thing though.

i don’t mind.

truly, i’m ok with it.

people say i’m “unmotivated,”

but, truly, it’s not that (or at least that’s not how I think about it).

i just think a lot of the things we spend time focused on don’t matter.

we are wasting time,

time we don’t have in the first place.

i want to spend time on the things that matter to me-

right now.

no, i don’t know where i’m going.

the only reason i’m speeding up is because i’ll get in trouble if i go at my own pace.

sometimes i think about how powerless i am.

Here Now, a Long Time Ago.

Do you ever wonder what the world looked like before anyone was here?

What would the earth look like if there were no buildings, no cars, no sign that it had been touched by any human ever.

Take a look around at exactly where you are right now. Stop reading for a moment, close your eyes, and try to picture it.

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I think there would be lots of dry grass where I am. If I were to lay down on the ground, I would slowly sink into the scratchy brush until my back met the hard dirt below.

The air would be cool. There would be lots of oak trees everywhere.

A creek might curve its way through the little valley, slowly moving across the open space. Supposedly there used to be one, but it’s long gone now.

It’s night time. The sky would be so dark, but the stars would be so bright, speckled against the blackness.

I’m not quite sure what it would sound like. I know there would be wind, rustling the brush a little bit. The barn owls, coyotes, and mountain lions would roam through the hills, looking for something to eat.

I’ve never known the world when it was untouched, the way it was supposed to be. But, I think about it all of the time.

I wish I could be there.


What’s Next?

Throughout the past hundred years, a multitude of advancements has been made by man kind. We have iPhones, cars, super thin laptops, and jumbo jets that can fly 400 passengers across the Atlantic in ten hours.

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Self-driving cars and hover boards are some of the latest innovative items being produced. Although these items are incredible; what is next?

I feel as though something incredible is about to be revealed. Something is being worked on somewhere by some company that will change this generation – but I have no clue what it is.

I have a couple of ideas as to what this new revolution will be; cars that hover above the ground, computers that have holograms to type, or locks to our doors that scan our fingerprints to allow admittance.

I ponder about what is to come soon, hoping it will exceed my expectations.

Ideas, anyone?

Dirty Feet Blues

I want to live a life with permanently dirty feet.

The assertion that one is obligated to be confined in shoes, at a job, where you sit in the same spot, and do the same thing everyday.

When I was younger I would play for hours on end without shoes on my feet.

I’d like to think of my dirty feet as an accomplishment. You’ve connected with the earth for so long that is has had time to change you.

The wicked cycle of an endless suburbia is keeping our feet much too clean. The same thing every single day.

Switch it up, take those damn shoes off — forget about your work emails for half an hour and take a minute to be alone.

Uninterrupted, just you and the earth. Breath it in. Feel the dewy grass tickle to spaces between your toes. Feel the rough asphalt grind away at your skin.

I would like to live a life with permanent dirty feet. In this technological age, people are seeming to forget that they’re washable.

You can get as dirty as you want because you can be cleaned. You can wash away the silt from your socks but you can’t replace the feeling of truly connecting with the earth.

Stop checking Twitter and take a look around. See the life that you’re missing out on being glued to the screen of your phone and go get dirty.

You’re too busy Instagraming at the tops of mountains for the likes rather than the memories and sense of accomplishment.


Whether you hold this true to yourself or not — this time we’re living in feels so artificial.

So, disconnect from the screen and go connect with what’s green.

Bird Boy

alien photo super legit completly real

Introduction: The year is 4041. Earth was dying. The only things besides humans were birds. Then, earth made contact with another planet who invited them to come live with them. All humans fled Earth to live on this new planet. All except one infant boy who was left behind. When the humans left, the friendly aliens restored Earth, bringing back all the trees and flowers. Earth was back to normal, like humans had never been there. Sadly, the aliens couldn’t bring back the animals. The boy is raised by birds and this is his story.

“Baka baka” said the boy. His calls were sad and poorly pronounced. “Baka baka” he said again while sitting on the ground. He was left behind for the winter, and not even the mama bird would stay with him. He was an outcast – he couldn’t fly. The five-year-old boy now crawled around the world, never knowing about walking, he searches for a teacher or a friend. Everywhere he goes sees birds and hears birds, but they will never come and play.

The boy is sad, because whenever he says his call there will be no sounds. The air, filled with birds, is silent like he is all alone. Then, a few minutes later there will be anything but silence – birds would start chirping and singing again. Sometimes, the boy would wonder why he can’t fly, or why he doesn’t have feathers. But he didn’t wonder long. He was easily distracted.

Years went on. The five-year-old boy is now 35, and no longer calls for the other birds. He just crawls with his head down, never looking at the sky, because it saddens him. As he was crawling, he hit his head on a tree. He was hurt, and by instinct yelled “Baka baka”. The skies were silent, until a female bird landed right next to him. The bird looked similar to him. She was tall and featherless. The only difference was she could fly. “Baka?” she said. “Ba baka” he responded. She wanted to know why he was on the ground. He said he didn’t know how to fly.

Suddenly the female bird pick up the man and said “Baka ba,” which meant believe. She let go. He flaps his arms, and is about to hit the ground, when suddenly, he starts floating elegantly into the sky. Boom! A loud, unfamiliar sound was in the sky. It was a shot, and it had hit the man. He fell from the sky to his death. The female bird landed, and turned from what looked like a human to the aliens, and said: “Bird Boy test successful. How is the Fish Boy doing?”  shortly after there was a response “Fish Boy is doing well, he can go weeks now without air.” The alien that taught the man to fly said: “Take them to the ship. We need to run more tests. We need to figure out why they can convince themselves to do the impossible.”

Why even spin?


Rock green-blue floats in the sky.

Does it spin for nothing; or keeps hope alive?

When a speck breathes; whom decides to care?

When a speck dies; is he really there?

Fighting for rocks to power great things.

Is it worth all the pain?

The great ones have said yes and made it so.

Why should one toil, no one seems to know.

The heart will beat, decades will pass.

The heart’s beat will stop, it will never last.

Gathered around to see ones deeds.

Is that what a dead soul truly needs?


We came from darkness

In a flash, the universe was created

Molten rock, frozen metal and fiery space dust crashed and collided across the galaxy 

Stars were born from clouds of gas, nebulae

The sun exploded in the vast blackness

Casting its newborn brilliance into the universe

Misshapen rocks were sucked into its gravitational pull

The third rock cooled just enough to create water

Tiny organisms evolved

With each passing millennium, they changed…