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Writing is hard work done in solitary aloneness with the hope that others will find your words appealing. Reaching those significant others can be almost impossible without a mountain-like platform from which to speak.
At some point on Saturday morning, a friend and I decided we wanted to go on a road trip. Only a few hours before we left, we decided to make the drive from Provo, Utah up to Oakley, Utah in order to check out this retro diner we’d seen photos of on Instagram.
The first and probably the most important thing is whether or not you are truly passionate about the film industry. A daredevil trying to get into this industry for profit reasons should consider a different career path.
My grandmother grew up in a small town in Sonora, Mexico, living with 10 siblings. She was the eldest daughter, so she was in charge of ironing her brothers’ jeans. (Exhibit 478 to answer the call: Unionize Eldest Daughters. I’m getting it tattooed under my left buttcheek. If all you who know the eldest-daughter-experience want to get a matching one, truly, let me know.) The iron was made of iron, heated over coals, to flatten the rough, coarse material of small-town Mexican denim. She hated ironing all those tough jeans. As soon as her own Mexican-American daughters were old enough to iron, and the iron itself was modern enough to not be made of iron, she taught them and left them to iron their father’s clothes.
With exhibitions from Istanbul to Italy and in his native Venezuela, Reni Arias first developed his passion for being behind the lens as a 10 year -old boy.
My TikTok feed suggested the first signs this past summer. My For You Page, a personalized home feed filled with mysteriously hyper-targeted videos, started showing me dancy videos with women who were diagnosed with ADHD later in life. This diagnosis changed their lives, was the missing piece they were looking for, and now they had to spread the word.
The now-famous Macintosh computer turns 37. When Apple President Steve Jobs launched this computer at the Flint Center on De Anza College campus on January 24, 1984, to the theme from Chariots of Fire, he called it “insanely great!”
I heard the crunch of the browned and crusty snow beneath my feet. It was impure, disgusting, and hardened like this damned world. All the people are the nasty little pieces of salt and dirt that clump together, tainting the virgin snow. Every person is poisoned by every other person. Their imperfections, their ugliness. It's revolting. I didn't think anyone was pure to the insanities this world has created. The grey clouds mocked me, keeping the beauty of the blue sky and the sun hidden from me, as I trudged through the slush, watching the chaos of the hideous people skating on the pond, I could smell the exhaust drifting through the one part of the city that was supposed to be celibate from the touch of man's destruction and pollution. People looked away as they passed me, they wished not to see my judgments of them. A small boy ran down the path knocking his arm into my side. My stack of books fell into the slush. I felt my blood boil and a vile taste formed in my mouth as I crouched down to retrieve my goods. That was when you came up behind me and reached your precious hands into the cold mush on the ground, retrieving my lost treasures. Your long dainty fingers wrapped around the broken spines of my favorite novels, your silky skin, the delectable color of milk freshly squeezed from the udder, intertwined with the cream of the old book pages. I turned my head to look at you. Your long flowing mane blocked your face from me, a curtain of golden sunbeams to hide the masterpiece I was awaiting. You turned your face to me wiping away your hair, a youthful glow of happiness and innocence overwhelmed me. Your eyes were two opalescent sapphires to which not even the Hope Diamond could compare. You smiled, crinkling your lightly freckled Grecian nose. Sweet girl, those are not just freckles though, they are angel kisses, or kisses from one angel to another. "Here." Your voice was a melody playing upon my heart strings. Your hand reached towards me holding the books and I nearly fell back into the nasty snow.
I have never served in the Military. I am in my early 30's now and looking back, I am glad I didn't. Not everyone has what it takes. For those who do, the Military can be a great career. It can be used to set a foundation as an adult to build the rest of your life on. Skills learned in the Military can be a great asset to a soldiers life.
Dear Vocal, I simply wanted to say "Thank You!" The universe led me to your site, you accepted me and made me freely write my thoughts. Your moderators swiftly check my work, and my stories are live online even before 24 hours.
It cannot be denied that 2020 was the year of Dolly. The Queen of Country not only delivered an impressive slate of creative projects in the form of books, music, and Netflix movies, but also gave us a Covid-19 vaccine and plenty of love and light to help us make it to 2021. Is there anything she can’t do?
The piece of writing that follows was queued to publish to my blog in March of last year... and then my son died. I cringe when I look at the person I was back then. So optimistic. So many freaking silver-linings. But I'm also in awe of past-me: how she could string words together and paint pictures. How she truly believed that everything would be okay.
"I'm a liar. And I don't care who knows it." That was the opening line of my first "self-help" book. I put "self-help" in quotes like that because I think people associate it with stupid, repetitive, and a waste of time - and I can attest that I used to be one of those people. Then, I read Shonda Rhimes.
Wait... Did you hear that? The faint whisper of a fan asking, "Is this finally happening?!?" I know, I know, I've been away for quite some time, so I think so...?
Sing me a requiem For the words will be better than mine. Disjointed, unpolished, but all I knew Grief is funny It’s flashes of synchronicity between heart and mind.
Five months ago, I started writing on Medium. I had the idea to share thoughts and experiences, and I was even more excited to know that Medium was willing to reward the effort with its Partnership program.
I love hats. Big hats. Tiny hats. Knit hats. Hats with a wide brim. Berets and bucket hats. My mother's always told me I look good in them, and her praise encouraged me to start a hat collection from a young age. Name a kind of hat, and I've got it in a bin inside my closet.
God bless America, land that I love. Land of the free, home of the brave, unhinged social media users that take a traditionally monumental occasion and add a little... spice.
Hello to whoever is reading this! First of all I hope that you have enjoyed the holidays however which way you spent it during this crazy time! Also, Happy New Year and here's to the first post of 2021! If you're reading this, it's probably because you were like me when I first started querying, went on google and searched "How to Write a Query Letter." Or, if you're really like me you initially searched, "How the #### do I write a query letter?!"
I recently stumbled across my answers to some Courageous Living exercises from Your Courageous Life by the wonderful Kate Courageous (Kate Swoboda). They were written as a predictive vision of my best possible self, many years ago, and at the risk of great personal embarrassment I’ve decided to post them here.