My thoughts tend to interrupt themselves. They crash and burn on the interstate that is my brain. Yep, every day feels like a multi-car wreck when tasks, reminders, and ideas constantly weave between my neurons. Sounds relatable? I'm not surprised. People barely have time to control their surroundings let alone their own minds. We all…
Hi! My name is Emily O’Malley, and I’m Hannah’s roommate. I’d like to think that we lucked out; it isn’t every day that your roommate is also in your major! Since I didn’t plan on majoring in English before starting college, she and I didn’t coordinate it, but I love it. The most important thing…
Poor Grammar. It has such a strong, hateful stereotype, doesn't it? People call it unnecessary, ugly, devious, and even sadistic. But Grammar and its convention henchmen are actually quite helpful and vital to the English language, at least literarily. The trick is how to use it. Sometimes, people forget that the point of grammar is…
Conversations about my writing usually go something like this: "How is your book going?" "It's going." "When will it be published?" "It's a work in progress," I usually say with a sigh. And it is. Compiling a book of any kind takes months or, more often than not, years of work. For instance, the drafts…
There is a librarian who organizes fluttering memories. The birds fly in with ebony words smeared on their wings and they always soar with more questions than answers; her thoughts are dust-covered dancers twirling behind crumbling books locked in skyscraper-shelves; she told me to look for your book yesterday and I peeled it open and…
While most people try not to judge a book by its cover, some involuntarily judge a book by its colors. Simply seeing or hearing words can cause a select group of people to instantly associate words with colors, a phenomenon known as synesthesia. After hearing about this condition, I wanted to know more about those…
Traveling and studying literature in England opened my eyes to what could be. I was able to control where I went, what I saw, and who I met. I grew as an observer; as a result, I wanted to record as much as possible so that I could be the eyes for those who couldn't…
It is seven in the morning. The sun barely grazes her fingers across the horizon’s bare back, and she kisses his shoulder as if she is afraid to wake him. Soon, though, he will open his eyes and rumble the lakes and rivers to life; he will start tsunamis; he will open reservoirs. The sun…
Time is a liquid. We carry it throughout the day in our cupped hands; we slosh it around as the hours pass; we watch as droplets fall unto the ground when we stress and when we are unproductive; we watch time glide down our fingers when we procrastinate. And when the day is over, we throw our…
I pad across cobblestone streets and watch as the sky releases fleets of dark grey and water-color yellow-- Big Ben punctures the clouds. I ask him where I am and he bends his head, exhales a gust of bells and a metallic groan: “A world away from your own.” Something swells in my chest and…
2B or Not 2B 