6-17-21 | 9:41 PM | Richmond, New Hampshire

Beyond the wind against the lake, beyond that sound or lack thereof, beyond that space where emptiness becomes full and thought-worthy; beyond this, a new space, a new area of space, empty space, space that takes up no space has arisen. Maybe it took growing up with the road being the stepping stones to thatContinue reading “6-17-21 | 9:41 PM | Richmond, New Hampshire”

The Young Comrade, the Soc-Dem to Marxist Pipeline, and Göran Therborn’s From Marxism to Post-Marxism?

To the young comrade, yeah, you. To the young comrade who has finally found a social theory, a political frame, a new set of glasses that doesn’t ignore the wretches, the purposefully impoverished, the systematically oppressed. To the young comrade who too many in their times has asked, if we have too many houses whyContinue reading “The Young Comrade, the Soc-Dem to Marxist Pipeline, and Göran Therborn’s From Marxism to Post-Marxism?”

Storytelling in Music: Lyrics that Tell a Tale

This post isn’t going to be a long-winded rant on my favorite artists, bands, and types of music. That would be an unnecessary harangue that is not appropriate at least at this exact moment. This post isn’t even about songs that have cool rhymes or a killer beat. I want to specifically examine songs thatContinue reading “Storytelling in Music: Lyrics that Tell a Tale”

The Different Textures Feel Me Grow

About six years ago I started running more seriously. What first started out with slow two-milers evolved into even slower five milers, and then slow 10ks, and then fast 10ks, and then semi-paced half marathons. My love for running doesn’t come from the need to exercise or “stay in shape.” As a college-level basketball player,Continue reading “The Different Textures Feel Me Grow”

Frankenstein’s Creation and My Own Creation of a New Self

Perhaps this title is somewhat misleading. I haven’t created entirely a new self per say. Instead, a self that is new because of its liberation from the bounds and restraints from an older identity and version. When I set out to read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, my goal was to inform myself of her literaryContinue reading “Frankenstein’s Creation and My Own Creation of a New Self”

This Post Was Going to be Selfish

This post was going to be selfish. I was going to write a long story on how I got accepted to be a part of the Midwestern Marx Youth League of Writers. A story of mine got accepted into my school’s Creative Writing magazine. Next Wednesday, I get my second dose of the Covid vaccine.Continue reading “This Post Was Going to be Selfish”

Becky Tyler’s Eight Years as the Women’s Basketball Coach at Bryn Mawr College: “There’s Still So Much to be Grateful For”

I knew Bryn Mawr was the place I wanted to be about four months into 2018. Five months prior if you had told me I’d be attending Bryn Mawr College, I would ask you how do you spell that? Where in the world is it even? And it’s a historically women’s college? Bryn Mawr wasContinue reading “Becky Tyler’s Eight Years as the Women’s Basketball Coach at Bryn Mawr College: “There’s Still So Much to be Grateful For””

The Little Girl and the Ever-Changing City

I wrote this for my Growth & Structure of Cities class called “Form of the City”. It resonated with a lot of my family members and I figured some of my readers here would appreciate it too. In a small city, smack dab in the middle of the Garden State, lies a community of manyContinue reading “The Little Girl and the Ever-Changing City”

How To Be a Good Writer

1. Imagine you’re standing in a wild blueberry-bush. Thorns that are prickly, barefeet that are dirty, flies and ants, sun and water.  2. Imagine you’re a spoon with garlic and honey, sliding down a semi- willing throat.  3. Imagine you’re the stars on a different side of the world being visited for the first timeContinue reading “How To Be a Good Writer”

He Was A Journalist: Alfred Hopkins’ Story as Told by His Brother

This isn’t my story to tell. As much as I love to say that my great uncle was at Che Guevara’s trial, my favorite niche fact that I tell all of my historically-inclined friends, this story is for someone else to disclose. Thomas Sawyer Hopkins, otherwise known as “Hop”, “Hoppy”, “Grandpoppy”, or just “Poppy”, deservesContinue reading “He Was A Journalist: Alfred Hopkins’ Story as Told by His Brother”