Collages


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   This past year I really took this up as a lowkey hobby I occasionally engage myself in, but I actually really should. I encourage other cheap crafty people to do the same.
    Its fun because you get to use rubber glue (and if you’re weird like me, you’re probably equally obsessed with it) or decoupage-which is also fun.
  The other plus, is that your materials are virtually unlimited. If you have old newspapers, cool scraps of fabric, paper with nice grain, you can create really interesting pieces and play with colors, depth, perspective, you name it! Try it out sometime.

I Am, Without A Man


Looks like it’s time to cleanse my heart again,

I open my palm, crusted and dusty from age,

Opening it like you would an ancient egress,

Or something like a sandy shore,

Yet instead of waves smearing the gritty land askew,

My palm pushes the deposit mud encrusting my heart,

This ooze of my past,

And it ripples and folds cross this metaphorical heart,

Onto the floor.

Underneath the mire is a lustrous surface,

A smooth and sultry mass,

See how it pulses on it’s own,

The sludge that once slowed its steady beat,

Now leaves it to thump thrifty and hard,

As if this sludge had intentions to return again someday,

And slow it’s vital purpose like it once had.

The heart reacts to this cleansing like a derelict might,

If he were asked to stay a night at a Hilton suite,

Unsure of the permanence of this luxury,

He steals and indulges in every amenity procurable,

The heart will now feel sagacity towards a creeping realization,

As though the indispensable process its been gifted,

Cannot be carried out without someone to pump the blood themselves,

It feels as though I, a woman,

Contingent upon myself alone,

Cannot carry on as such,

Without the sludge,

Without a man.

I hope you all enjoy this poem. I wrote it recently as we were discussing gender and gender roles in my AP English class and some of the articles we read by Rebecca Walker and other writers gave me some inspiration to write about being an independent woman. I’m not really a feminist, but I feel like this poem can relate to any woman who sometimes forgets that we don’t need the sludge of life, or other people, to help our hearts beat and help us live. We live all on our own.

-Mariah20150530_214209~2

Nature Photography


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So I went and bought myself a really modest and nice little Canon powershot camera with my recent paycheck. I’ve been working at my first job since August and I’m very proud of my cute, mini paychecks I recieve every other week so I thought I’d treat myself and make my life in my Digital Photography class a little smoother, by purchasing this little beauty. And I’m glad I did I love it.

So yeah these are some nature pics I took for my photography class. When I take pictutes, I’ve been focusing a lot on movement and the rule of thirds and all that fancy stuff. To you more advanced photographers I’m sure I sound sooooo novice but ya know what? Whatever. They still turned out pretty nice, so there.

My favorite is the one with the vines sliding up the bark, I think that one was pretty spot on. The other ones are pretty basic but they’re alright. I didn’t have much time or a good place to shoot as it was in the woods behind the highschool and I had like an hour to shoot, but still. There’s beauty to be find even in such a treacherous place.

 

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I hope you like them! Leave a comment and tell me what you think and god bless .x.

Oh, and merry late Christmas!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dad’s Inspiration


Most people only really know me because of my mom. She’s a passionate, amazing woman who really catches anyones attention (whether it be for her abnormally long shiny blond hair, or her big white smile), and she’s the type of woman you won’t forget. Because she’s so radiant, my dad is so easily forgotten, which is unfortunate because behind his gruff and scruffy apperance, he’s one of the most creative and amazing indivisuals you will ever meet.

If there is one thing I see clearly in society, and I don’t mean to offend, but if I were a betting woman, 60% of the time if a girl grows up without a dad, they tend to be more permiscuous. Boys that grow up without dad’s never learn how to be a man, or at least a good one. Of course this is not always the case, but dad’s are so important to balance out the usually overprotective traits of mothers.

When I was little and I wanted something, I learned to never go to mom to ask but my dad, and whenever I did he laughed and told me that he’s become my “yes-man”. Daughters and dad’s always have special relationships, because it’s his job to protect his girl while she’s little, and teach what kind of man she’s looking for when she’s older. And while my dad does both of those things, he does more.

Normally, men’s artistic and creative abilities are so easily overlooked. We only really see their strength or athletic ability, and because my dad is what you’d call a “manly-man”, you’d never guess that he is actually a literary genius and quite the romantic. My mom, however, is completely opposite. She’s about numbers and math, so people have always asked me, “Where do you get your artistic abilities?” and I tell them my dad. This always comes as a suprise to people, and it was only until a few years ago that I realized my dads never shown anyone this other side of him, but me.

I hope I can become famous as either an artist or poet, so that when someone looks at me and asks, “What was you’re inspiration”, I’ll proudly look at my old, middle-class, scruffy dad and say, “Him.”