Even though they are gone, even though I will never speak, see, or hear from them ever again, the love I had for them, the lessons and essence of life they shared while they were alive, is just as prominent. Continue reading Always and Forever: Life after Death
An original idea doesn’t mean that it has never been done, but that it comes from your own life. Anything that you take from your own life is unique to you and although many others may have experienced things in a similar way, it is not possible that people have seen it through your eyes. To create a song or write a poem or story that captures a way that you felt that meant anything at all to you can not only help you to understand why you felt certain ways, but it can open another persons mind to see their own similar situation in a different light. Continue reading Nuss on Being Creative
Drawing by: Jonathan Ashe Written by: Adam Abramowitz Creativity is an escape. We have the ability to tune the world out as our brain focuses on self-expression. The act of creating is one of the few things that allows us to displace ourselves from reality and just feel. Listening, reading, or viewing someone else’s art does the same thing. The difference between the artist and the audience is the artist creates something from within, and shares it to be discovered by someone else. If done right, the artist leaves behind a piece of themselves, so they can be free of … Continue reading Escape into Creativity
Written by: Charlene Cannon
One of the most interesting things I have found about life is observation. Working at a coffee shop five days a week, I’ve come to really enjoy it.
When I tell someone my story of why I have stopped smoking (cigarettes and/or weed) the listeners reaction is one of the following:
A.) Awkward head nod: “Good for you.” The End.
B.) Their eyes light up: “Wow! I’m so proud of you Char!”
C.) Sarcastic laugh: “Well that sucks.”
D.) Smile and complete understanding: “That’s awesome girl.”
I wish I could say that it doesn’t affect me, that I’m just proud of myself and want people to know of my accomplishment, but that’s not true.
Because in all honesty, I think about picking up a cigarette and smoking a bowl every single day. Continue reading “Reality Check”
Written by: Garret Golden
Who am I? What am I? I’ve once heard a wise man by the name of Ted Dekker say these words, “I Am”… He did not say ‘I am what I am’, because that puts identity on one’s self. I have to realize my true essence has no possession, no roots grounded into this person writing this paper, this man who strives to be the best example of love to others who walk upon this earth, to the earth herself. I am not an individual with the title of Garrett Golden. Continue reading ““I Am” (Late for a Dinner Date)”
Written and Painted by: Sam Rathvon
Once, in an English class that I did not particularly care for, I heard an amazing story. My professor told of a poet who worked in a field. It was said that he could feel a poem coming like a calm breeze passing through the grains of wheat. The poet would run as fast as he could back to the house to find some means of capturing the poem; always hearing its inspiration drawing nearer and nearer. Sometimes, he would make it back to his house in time to gather some paper and ink before the train passed his station. However, there were just as many times when he felt the poem pass him by like a gust in the wind. Gone forever, and never to return.
The poem was in search of someone to capture. Continue reading “Fear, Frustration, and Creation”
Written By: Abe Redstone
I sit in a room with no windows, on a couch with nothing but my cell phone screen illuminating my face at 2 in the morning. This scene isn’t so different from my life five months ago, and at the same time, my life has changed drastically. The love of my life, the woman whom I pledged my world to, my wife, sleeps in the bed beside my spot of contemplation instead of not speaking to me… Continue reading “Inner Workings of the Clockwork City”
Written by: Travis Goure
For a long time I’ve been deeply frustrated by my inability to express the form of my fear. So now, as it presently occurs to me, I’m surprised to see some of its manifestations, the first and most monstrous of which is my fear of the human face. It is a fear of their expressions, of what I think they’ll say, against what they truly do. It is like when I’ve been in a grocery store, and said something to a clerk which returned a peculiar look, one which reads, to me, that what I said was inappropriate, or obtuse, or taken the wrong way. In those instances I have often spent a week or more replaying that scenario in my mind until I find some strange way of bridging its cold disharmony.
It is nearly impossible for me to hold a conversation without my heart rattling, my legs swaying, and why? Continue reading “True Sentiment: A Fear of the Human Face”