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Posted from WordPress for Android
Writing is a fickle thing. Courage and optimism. The courage to be honest and optimism that you’re good enough.
I write for a magazine that sends me to places that make me incredibly uncomfortable. I speak with the owners of restaurants and bars I could never afford. I speak with experts in the beauty field: plastic surgeons, cosmetic dentists, spray tan salons. I speak with people who are living very luxurious lifestyles.
Luxury in the sense of wealth.
Sitting in my rented room in Long Beach with carpet stains and rodents scurrying within the ceiling at night, wealth feels far away. And so when I speak with these people, our conversations feel riddled with distance.
The other day they sent me to the Montage Laguna Beach. I rattled into the valet circle with my 10 year old car. The paint on the hood is chipping. It whines as I turn…
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my dreams my choice
For those of you reading this, I’ve recently had some big changes in my life. I have scored my dream internship. I’ve been thinking of this day since I ws probably 12 (I’m now 21). For 10 weeks, I packed up my life, again, after spending four months in Barcelona, to move to New York City to intern at no place else but Seventeen.com. Let’s just say, the office is every teenage girl’s dream. I let go of any job opportunities for the summer and a paying internship, so let’s just hope this experience is everything and more that I’ve hoped for. So far, so good.
Normally when I create a blog in the past, it is for a specific reason or time of my life. I hope to blog not only about being at Seventeen, but my life and path to self-acceptance.
I’m definitely an individualist, and go against…
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It’s Townie Town
where the clowns clown
Undaunted by arrogant mishaps
pulling themselves up by their bootstraps
A fine group of yes men
to get under your skin
They don’t get or give help
side to side, an awkward two step
Here they are, hillbilly homies
conservative freaks, religious phonies
They won’t become dumb
sipping red draws in a slum
Load up the truck
to try their luck
be faster to haul
before oil prices further fall
Okay with others having less
They shut the door to progress
Once a week they sat on their sacred perch
finding false comfort in a white church
The bigger the hat, the louder the chat
Verbatim they attempt to connect the dots
by advising us all with their parting shots
The only thing tolerable in this demographic
are places to park and completely no traffic.
Photo Credit: Pixabay
Dear Miss Multi-Tasker, like all happy writers, I understand you are quite the reader?
This is true, I was an especially voracious book lover when I was able to stay up past 9 PM.
How is the tutoring going?
I enjoy bringing knowledge and fueling the literary passions of students, including teens who refer to Robert Frost as “That Dude Who…” Right now, I spend some quality time with a second grader, Adam, who enjoys the reading process so much that he asks such questions as:
“Is it reading time again? How long are you going to be here?”
“Do we have to read that? I already read it!”
“Why do we have to do this one?”
All the while, I am smiling as I try to help him read the hard words in his pamphlet book that he proceeds to turn upside down so as to thwart my attempts.
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