The most ridiculous way I’ve ever heard of singing “happy birthday” has been in my seventh period AP English class. Well, the most ridiculous so far.
Whenever there’s a birthday, my teacher declares that all are to sing according to the following rules:
- Any key.
- Any pace.
- Any tone of voice.
- Any language.
- There are no rules.
I feel like I usually shy away from being sung to, even when it’s around a cake with family and friends- I never know where to look or what to do in reaction. However, I think those 30 seconds of embarrassment today were worth it because this particular rendition of this over-sung tune was magnificent. Continue reading
1. You are more comfortable writing in the dark with black ink than you will ever be with indigo on a sunny day. Continue reading
I have always been afraid of the unknown. I shake in the face of decisions and changes. It has always been like this and although I don’t like admitting this, I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person that’s comfortable out of my element. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person that’s comfortable with the thought of being out of my element. Continue reading
As I type this, it does not feel like Christmas.
It may be fifty degrees outside, but the sun is glaring down onto the pavement.
The house may be smelling of pine trees and vanilla, but that’s only thanks to the candles that my sister has been obsessed with lighting lately- not the cookies we used to bake every year.
There may have been presents under the tree waiting to be unwrapped, but I don’t feel like I used to in elementary and middle school when it comes down to opening them. It used to be about getting to what was inside those folds of paper; now it’s more like I don’t want to see because seeing would mean that yet another Christmas has come and will pass. Continue reading
There is something satisfying about working with ink that can’t ever be matched. Continue reading