Graduate student living in NYC. Philosophy. Books. Writing. Dogs. ✨
Reflection of a Girl Remembering How to Feel Alive
She didn’t need to scan the menu long because a different guy had taken her here just last week. Of course, she couldn’t tell that to her current date. Instead, she said, “I can’t choose. It all sounds so good.”
Anticipating the Blossom Before the Bloom
We become ourselves surrounded by the words we write, word after word, we write ourselves into being. . Building words first,
How I Won $1,000 in My First Vocal Fiction Challenge
I recently won the first Vocal Challenge I’ve ever entered, and it was a fiction Challenge! I have to admit—I was shocked when I got that congratulatory email for my short story, Pinky Promise.
It was a rainy evening as Ellen wiped down the counter of her empty dumpling shop, thirty minutes before closing. Another slow night. Her son lay on his stomach behind the counter, drawing, where he always was during his mother’s evening shifts.
FYI: Modern Classroom Design Mirrors Factory Design During the Industrial Revolution
If I tell you to imagine a classroom, we all probably imagine roughly the same thing: rows of desk all facing the front of the room, a chalkboard or whiteboard at the front where the teacher stands, perhaps a bell on the wall that rings when class is over. Well, I recently learned that all of these characteristics stem from none other than factories during the Industrial Revolution. That’s right! For your information, we’ve all basically been educated in a factory.
Bravely Writing All I Couldn't Say Before
Hey You, When I was a teenager, I wasn’t crazy about myself. If you’ve ever been a teenager, you can probably relate. Why did you hate yourself? For me, I detested how shy I was. I loathed how I found it so difficult to speak my mind. I was so jealous of all the people who, I believed, had such an easy time being confidently themselves while the words I wanted to speak were hopelessly trapped in my chest, squished down behind an awkward giggle and over-eager smile.
The Robbery of Mr. Gobb
Mr. Gobb had been dead for two hours by the time they got his body to the boat. “Let’s get him in,” Borscht said. Plum cupped his hands into the armpits of Mr. Gobb. Borscht grabbed his feet.
- First Place in The Night Owl Challenge
I wasn’t supposed to be on that motorcycle, the one my brother died riding, yet there I was, driving down the California highway, not knowing when I’d stop. It’d been sitting in the driveway two months untouched when I turned the keys in its ignition and left. I just couldn’t stand the sight of mom drinking her tea that morning and maybe I thought I would finally cry if the wind hit my face fast enough but all I wanted to do as I started driving was scream into that salty summer sky.