It’s Saturday, so it’s time to relax and play around for a bit. So I post my poetic version of a movie review for Pacific Rim. (Maybe I will start a trend here.)
I huddle close to the thick plate glass of the dolphins’ watery domain, when suddenly one of them stops in their circuit of the observable area of the enclosure to study us humans. As we study the dolphin, it looks back at us, keeping its eyes trained on our every movement, following us closely as we move off to the side.
It’s hard for me to believe it, but it’s now been one full year since I made my first post here.
I’ve had a busy year, filled with changes and personal growth. I have found new ways to express myself in writing and I have made plans for the future.
Hopefully this blog will continue to help me and allow me to share my work with the world. And I hope people will continue to enjoy what I have to offer. I could not have done this without you. 🙂
I’m a child of the internet, reaching my teens just as the internet became available to normal households. Before social networks, it was a very different place…So, a little personal poem on the subject.
I visited the zoo today and return home with a head full of wonderful experiences and memories. For now, I offer up this suitable story that I wrote a while back.
The treacherous thing about summer, about any season really, is how you might be fooled into believing it lasts forever. Not only that, but how it can even cause you to block the existence of other seasons from your mind, the memories of seasons past shoved into some corner like a misbehaving child who needs a time-out. That is the effect the sun has on me.
Good morning, world. Here’s a poem I wrote to serve as a form of reminder to myself of how my mind works.
Sometimes you get surprisingly good stuff from stream of consciousness writing. This was easily tweaked into something I really wanted to share. Read on below.
About a year ago I left my day job working for the postal service, a place that had become more stressful than I could really bear in 2011, with my anxiety and depression trading places to have a party in my brain.
“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
These words, a translation from ancient Greek describing the Persian courier service c. 500 BC, are inscribed on the James Farley Post Office in New York City. Through the years these words, in whatever form you remember them by, has in many minds become associated with the US Postal Service itself, though the words originally had no relation to them.