Oct 12
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The Ice Skating Rink

Every snowy, rainy, muddy, slushy, or even just dewy day 
I walk into school on the plush red carpet nursing stiff fingers
And eying the unfortunate substances that have graced my shoes. 
As I walk some snow or rain or perhaps mud shakes off me like a wet dog.
My eyes search the ticking clock because knowing my sister, we're probably almost late. 
Then, alas, I reach the end of the grippy carpet. 
Off onto the plastically tiled floors framed with people. 
Oh no! My smooth bottom shoes can't grip the ice skating rink of a floor
And my arms blow wildly into noodly circles. 
A frantic accelerando as feet slam and slip.
Boom. Huh, my view is suddenly of the ceiling. 
My legs are splayed out like a frog ran over by a car.
Instrument a hockey puck on the floor. 
Stares boring through my body. 
Unfortunately, I'm not too flexible so I hop up quickly is a disoriented sort of way
Sep 28
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Sunrise on Masada

Sep 28
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Strands of metal

I am made of strands of metal.
Hair that hovers between copper and bronze.
Yellow gold streaks and platinum baby hairs.
Not straight, not curly,

My grandpa has hair that lies flat as straw,
Gray at 20, now white as freshly fallen snow.
Once, my little sister tried to style it with her plastic pink set,
No one noticed a difference.
His hair is straight like the logical way he thinks,
And almost as dry as his humor.
I guess I got some of both.

Grandpa Lenny had shoe-shine black hair,
Jutting out at every direction.
Like one of his kitchen chemistry experiments went sour.
I like to think my hair’s staticky uncooperativeness comes from him,
And is an indicator of underlying intuitive genius.

My grandma always has different hair.
Naturally, a rich auburn that leans towards maple,
Aug 04
humor 1 comment challenge: Bake
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bake a best friend

Hello, and welcome back to How to Bake 101! After much experimentation (and quite a mess) I have perfected this classic, essential recipe. It's definitely worth doubling and leaving half in the freezer for later, everyone will just love the best friends you whip up! Note: if wishing to swap out ingredients for dietary or emotional concerns, please replace with the same amount. Keep in mind for your best friends to bake properly they require the correct proportion of wet and dry ingredients. 

Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 30 minutes 
Total time 45 minutes

Serves: 1

2 cups of loyal flour
2 cups sweet sugar
3/4 cup of unsweetened, "toughen up" cocoa powder
2 teaspoons of bonding baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons of baking soda (the bubbly variety)
1 teaspoon of salt(y) humor
1 teaspoons of perky espresso powder  
1 cup of laughing cow milk
1/2 cup of buddy buddy canola oil 
Jun 08
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Why education matters

Halima grew up in a small town in northern Niger as the third of a family of six children. Her mother, who never graduated from high school, strived for Halima to receive the education she never was able to. Her father, who was the first in his village to graduate from university taught her to dream about her future. At age 15, a time when many girls her age were married and working, she was the first female member of the youth parliament and fought for the rights of girls across Niger.

 Halima is a success story. Why talk about her instead of 130 million girls out of school across the globe? Because Halima is the embodiment of the insurmountable effects of empowerment and education.
Jun 08
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A changing world

In a wooded jungle, birds and bug interrupt each other through lush leaves that look green from soft sun shining through them. When I bend down I can scoop up a hand full of mossy, earthy ground and hold the planet in my hands. 

Perched atop a flipped sailboat the wind skips off a deep blue lake and skirts around wooded mainland. The clear water lapping my toes is mine.

A field of many colors blooms under my nose; red, blue, pale yellow, and a spectrum of green. Soft lighting feeds the shimmering long grass that tickles my legs as the sun becomes bestows a peace upon the field.

One day, houses will surpass the number of trees in those woods. I'll bend down to pick up a hand full of crumbled tar and cigarette butts. 

The lake will turn my toes green from algae. 

The sun will be too hot in the hazy, polluted air. 

Nature will shrivel up like a plant that's never watered, and no amount of tears will ever resurrect it.
Apr 05
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Painting with flowers

Olive was named after her eyes. Vibrant green with a glimmer of golden brown in the right lighting. Her hair matched her character, free-spirited and wavy, a light chestnut color full of many streaks and shades. Soft freckles reveal her soft side and love of the sun. Olive lived in the woods in a yellow house weathered from snow, ice, and those heavy rains that so intrigued her. She went to school at a small school nearby and liked it just fine. On a very average day, Olive returned home to her long dirt driveway to see many light green buds popping out among the trees. It was a snowy March, and Olive's eyes lit up with curiosity at the spectacle. Her short life so far had taught her it's not every day you see green leaves when there is snow on the ground. The ends of her long wavy hair fluttered against her face and a warm breeze howled from behind her. This confused her very much, not the wind, of course, she was used to the feeling of almost blowing away, but the warmth.
Mar 10
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