What is our purpose? Why are WE here today? Is it to create, design, or to construct? Or might it be to get, give, or keep? Why do we act the way we act? Or talk the way we talk? Is our purpose to love; or to hate? To build just then to destroy. Why are some of use active in the morning while others don’t start till noon? Why are no two people exactly alike(and is that bad)? Why am I writing this; and why are you reading it? Do you ever sit wonder on what the world will be in 100 years or what is was 100 ago? Is our purpose to restore? Why are some of us rich and others poor? What is my purpose, and what is yours?
the broad shoulders pulled together by biceps and chest muscles
was heart breaking,
and for a long time
too long of a time
all she felt was confusion she did not know why she hated herself
why she felt disgusted by her body
why she looked at herself and didn’t feel like she was actually looking at herself
it wasn’t until she was a teenager she broke free of her confusion
experimented with her happiness
broke social norms to find herself
she looks back now as a 24 year old,
as a tall beautiful woman
and feels remorse that she let herself suffer for so long because she did not search for what made her feel most herself
“Hormones to surgery to life style changes, the hardships and black holes of sadness and isolation made me who I am today. And baby, I am better than ever.”
has been kissed, blessed, given to the earth since the beginning of time
every seed was kissed to grow, every drop kissed into the mighty river, every muscle kissed into movement
but humans
although kissed into the same existence come with a new fire
lit deep in their hearts that pours out their eyes into the world
is the fire of distraction
the fire of greed
their fire burns slow and hot
flames devour the creations so humbly kissed into this world
green Amazonian cities of sky-scraping trees are at war with blackened cities of humans
life is in a panic
as the humans see nothing in this world as anything more than a means for their own personal gain
a once tender and loving kiss, that once had no obligations to kiss anything into existence because life was thriving perfectly on its own,
has turned into a panic of passionate lips trying to save what has been damaged
life is hopelessly trying to combat human decimation
kiss their shackled creatures into freedom, their cut and fallen cities into existence once more, kiss their oceans clean and air fresh
Pollution and over using natural resources will be our downfall. The kiss of life will keep creatures walking their earth, but will we completely destroy it before it is reborn.
Life is hard. Life is not fair. Life has many ups and downs, especially growing up.
Once you reach a certain age, responsibilities pile up and you are expected to become more self-reliant. The teenage years are rough- balancing school, friendships, and family life. Then add the prospects of mental health and relationships.
Mental health is really important and life could take a toll on one’s mental health. Anxiety due to school and other things. Depression or sadness due to life and the tolls that life brings onto someone.
photo credit: Medical News Today
Relationships, friendships, and romantic relationships are really hard to navigate during the teenage years. Finding a connection that works is hard, and is really important to keep one sane.
School is very stressful. Teachers and parents put pressure on students and kids to do well in school, so they can do well in life. Students and kids also put pressure on themselves to get into great colleges.
Life is full of ups and downs, full of scary and fun moments.
I picked up the large and awkward 25-pound bag of Laguna Specked Buff clay and set it on the canvas table with a thud. Getting my wire, I slice a piece of clay that measures out to be exactly 1.5 lbs. The thin silver wire attached to green handles slides and slices the clay so beautifully. The clay, not wanting to be sliced, holds some resistance which makes the process all the more satisfying. Once set up, I wedge the clay using my leverage along with the firm table top to push and elevate any air bubbles out of my freshly cut piece of clay. Once done, I take to the wheel. The centering is first, the specked buff clay, rough and sprinkled with sand turns round and round the wheel. The sandy texture rubs and grinds the blade of my hand, but at the same time moves and bends at my will. Finding the middle of the clay, I press my finger in with a strong and precise motion, bowing out slightly. The clay spins quickly but stays perfectly in the center, completely content on the wheel. Taking my fingers, I press into the right wall of the clay and start to form my walls. Squeezing and holding the wet clay between my two pointer fingers, I begin to elongate my piece. The walls become delicate and thin. I grab the metal rib, flexible, I bend the awkward, thin, metal oval around the wall of the clay to smooth out and nicely finish the mug. After I trim the bottom and smooth out the lip with a rectangular piece of leather, I take it off the wheel and it begins its’ drying process.
A wise man once said to me that your trauma is not something that can be resolved. A person must take what has happened to them and learn how to survive alongside the pain, and instead of it consuming you, it becomes apart of you.
A wise man once said to me that I was meant to be great. I am not destined to do one monumental thing, he said, I am destined to be monumental.
A wise man once said to me that life was a seed that everyone is encouraged to plant. Some will plant their seed with the best of soil and it will still fail to grow. Some will grow in the crevice of two boulders, striped of all nurtience, and explode into an extraordinary tree.
A wise man once said to me that reading stories about the crystal blue sea or the towering mountains that forever reached to the heavens was not enough. He said to me that I must dive deep into salty water, and let the cold chill take over my body. He told me that I must drown in experiences, and that I must lay above the clouds.
A wise man once told me that my life is a piece of nothing in the scheme of infinity, a single electron in the sun’s ever-burning fire. He told me that beyond my sunken world there was a blackness that stretched out so far that if I were to walk the path of infinity for my entire life, I would not reach the starting line.
A wise man stared at me as I stared at him. The fogged mirror didn’t affect how clearly I saw the man looking back at me. As he gripped my eyes he said, don’t waist Oxygen trying to survive, use what you are given and try and live.
OVS Journalism Blog 
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