This semester I had big research assignments for two different classes:  Creative Non-Fiction (CNF), and University Foundations 300 (UF 300, which is a required general education class).  I decided to double dip and use the same topic for both classes.  Cheating?  I thought so at first, but it turns out that each project helped to deepen the other and hence, both were enhanced. Fortunately, all that research and thought went towards something that has turned out to be a new passion of mine.  Crazy what school will do to a person.  I stumbled upon the word by accident.  I had no idea what it meant and decided to Google it, an auspicious moment.  It was attraction at first sight, and I have been deeply in love ever since.  I predict a long and happy affair. Here is my paper for CNF on biomimicry. From our Elder Species:   A Word of Hope      Imagine if you will, the age of the Earth is the length of a calend...

I have been searching my life for something fun.  Thankfully, I have recent assistance in my endeavor. (See blog post, "Blame the Dolphins 5/16/16)  I stumbled upon a doozie today.  As is so often the case with insight and discovery, it was right there all along.  I just didn't see/hear/feel/taste/realize it, until now.  I hadn't smelled it either, yet it was right there under my nose.  
 My Creative Non-Fiction Writing professor, this past semester, introduced me to "Brevity", a non-fiction blog. https://brevity.wordpress.com/about/ 

 Shout out to professor C., one of those teachers who changes a student's perspective and hence a life's  trajectory.  She has given me such insight into writing and being a writer.  It frightens me because as I suspected, the reality is vast and wide and I have just started to peek at its edges.  Oh, but it calls me.    Now that I am on summer break from school, I finally have some...

I just read that Ursula Le Guin found math difficult.  I find that encouraging.

Between a bad job and a bad relationship in recent years, I have found myself crushed and lost.  Really lost.  No, you don't understand me.  I couldn't find myself at all .  Entirely my fault mind you.  No one can do to us what we don't allow.  And boy howdy, do I have a long history of giving myself away in relationships.  Old patterns stemming from abuse and neglect that left me confused and hollow, desperate to fill the void that was me.  So I get it, and I claim responsibility.  I endeavor not to hang my head in shame and defeat because that behavior is just as useless and destructive. So what to do?  I don't tend to stay in defeat, though I know it well as I seem to find myself there all too often.  But I'm nothing if not a survivor.  So step by step I inch my way back to myself.  Where the hell did I go? Recently some of my healer friends and I were helping another friend with a tear rendering problem.  An o...

So that's what it's supposed to look like.

     This is two old blog posts that I spliced together for an assignment for my Creative Non Fiction Writing class.  It was harder than I thought it would be.  Plus, I lost interest.  Earlier in the semester when I started this piece, these topics were still up for me.  Meaning, I was still struggling and working though these issues.  Last week when I was working on it for a final rewrite, I found that I had moved on.  I love history and what it can teach me.  But then let's move on, shall we?  Maybe that's why I like to blog so much, it's immediate, authentic and raw.  Otherwise, what's the point?      So, hot off the press - my last semester's angst. Madeleine Albright’s 4:03 AM Visit      I’m still laughing about a Gilmore Girls' episode I watched recently.   It depicts the night Rory dreams her mother is Madeleine Albright.  In this scene, Ms. Albright plays herself!   ...

Thanks all I'm asking.

     My last math class is over.  And while I don't have my grade yet, I no longer have math homework.  I have lived for the last two semesters in the math lab.  A place like home, where much time is spent, and I am greeted warmly by one and all.  My family of sorts, consisting of fellow struggling math students and brainiac math TAs that answer my constant questions without fear or hesitation.      But I can't live here anymore.  They won't let me.  I have a distant memory of another home in which I lived.  I must remember and go back there.  It's a hazy, vague recollection of another place, another time - before algebra.  Where, oh where, do I live now?