The Hippies Have Arrived

It’s tough balancing these huge dreams and aspirations along with a desire to be more accepting and grateful for the life I was given. For whatever reason, they contradict each other in my mind. My perfectionism begs that I choose my dreams and aspirations, that I beat myself up over them until I accomplish them. 

What kind of life do I want? That’s tough to say…I want it all.


Is Poetry Manipulative?

The question of poetry as a manipulative discourse came to me as I began to think of poetry as a form of seduction. From its conception to subsequent explanations, the purpose of poetry, as articulated by Poe in “The Poetic Principle,” is to excite, to elevate the soul...



On the Personal Essay

On one of my journal entries during my time in Spain, I included the reason why I write: I believe that if I put my rummaging thoughts into structured sentences that will make them leave me. I seem to be afflicted with a habit that is most common amongst writers: I think too much...

Endgame & Its Greyness

About a third of the way into Beckett’s Endgame, I gave up. I surrendered my need to find meaning, to understand, or to decipher, the author’s intent in writing.

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