Get up! Fight! Fight in the War on Touristism!!!

If this doesn't get you tourists writing nothing will.

You might be a tourist if:

1. All your getting is a black box cause you never look at any blogs at home on your own time and only look at blogs while at school in the writing lab.
2. Half the class knows which blog is yours.
3. You've never posted anything more than 4 lines long.
4. Any of your posts are about how bad a writer you are, cause the only reason your writing sucks is because all you write about is how bad you are.
5. You are just taking the class because Nelson is your football coach.
6. Your just taking the class because its an easy "A".
7. You have to have someone hold a carrot in your face to lead you to the water.
8. Nelson has ever yelled at you in front of the class.
9. Nelson has ever yelled during class because of your refusal to try on any of the writing prompts or any of the blog posts. 
10. You get offended by this post.

If any of the previous circumstances apply to you, then you are of no use to the class or the fight on touristism, and should therefore "get thee hence". Of course if you have realized your wrong-doings and would like a fresh start then please, write.

Direct Orders: Write a Blog Post

Write a post like you just got 20 comments on the last one.

Write a post like you just got off someone else's blog and they had you posted as one of their favorites, like their "quote of the week" is by you.

Write a post like like you can't breath and this post will be the last words you get to give to the world.

Write a post like you just fell in love and you can't seem to get any words out of your mouth that aren't poetic.

Write a post like you're a celebrity and therefore everything you say is considered genius.

Write a post like everything you say is completely original.

Write a post like you've got into the Writers Paris Hall of Fame three weeks in a row, like Nelson just used your writing journal as a good example on the board, like he just left a post-it note that says "extremely creative" on one of your extra 5.

Write a post like you haven't taken your eyes off the computer screen since your mom brought you a turkey sandwich for dinner 11 hours ago.

Write a post like your only desire in life is to inspire tourists to start writing for real.

Write a post like you are the last person on earth and the only way to keep yourself sane is to write.

Write a post like you're actually confident people will like it.

Write a post like you're stranded on an island with nothing but a laptop and 3% battery life.

Write a post like your hands are taped to the keyboard, like there's a gun to your head and the second you stop typing the trigger gets pulled.

Write a post like there's no grade attached.

Write a post like you've been writing drafts and notes and ideas for posts all week long and its time to submit the final draft.

Write a post like it means something, cause it does.

Mirror Lies

I look in the mirror, and I see me,
or at least something that looks like me.
But maybe its something else...

Maybe it's a my evil twin, seperated at birth into opposite dimensions where we played tag, went to school, and grew up far away from each other. When we see each other each morning we're just too stunned to say anything worth while so we just stare at each other and critique one anothers hair and face.

Maybe it's a robot, designed to copy my every move and by the time it processes my motions and orders its limbs to do the same, my eyes have already moved on, or are just to slow to see the spanse of time between my movements and his.

Then again, maybe it really is just a reflection of light, traveling thousands and thousands of miles per hour, that bends this way and that to form into the unique colors and shapes of my body. Nothing philosophical, just physical and scientific.

Maybe its a window to the real world. Where all the earth goes around at the same pace, where people are warm, polite, and caring toward each other, and where life is good. And all I get to see is a reflection of what life was meant to be, and who I was born to be.

Dear Executives,

Dear Duct Tape Executives,

      First off, I would like to congratulate you on creating a product to which I can turn to in dire times of broken household objects. I am very much a fan of your product and all that I can make from it; Wallets, vests, prom dresses. The various colors and designs invoke a feeling of innate ability to accomplish anything.

     While it may seem like your product is the perfect fixer of things, I, like many others throughout the world, have found that it cannot fix a countless number of problems found in our country and other countries around the globe. Below is a list of things you have yet to fix.

• A broken cat.
• A broken heart.
• The homeless situation.
• The national deficit.
• Tiger Woods' marital problems.
• Train live.
• Bill Clinton's marital problems.
• Donald Trumps hair issues.
• KKK members souls.
• Toyota accelerator pedals.
• Little children's broken dreams. (Santa Claus)
• The boringness of North and South Dakota.
• The temperature in Canada.
• My mom's clam chowder. (jk mom)
• Hitler's thought process 

While you have tackled virtually everything in the physical world, you have a long way to go before you become the company that everyone turns to for their emotional needs. What people need is something to turn to when something goes wrong, a hero if you will. Up until now you have been the closest thing to a hero that people have. In order to maintain your image, I think its time to step up your game.

                                                                    With Concern,
                                                                                     Neverse O. Goode

On life.

 On death.

When you accept that you will die, and you accept that all things, good and bad, will end. When you accept that people were meant to be more than 'only human' as we so excuse ourselves to be, only then, perhaps, will you finally learn to become yourself.

On life.

To truly live is to care not. To care not is to not worry. To not worry is Hakuna Matata which is a phrase made up for the sake a children's movie. Since 'Hakuna Matata' is made up, we can assume that 'not worrying' is made up and furthermore 'to truly live' is a false dream impossible to reach. A fake example for us to cast our attention to.

But then again, why do we see so many of us change the way we live when death is knocking on our door? Why do we become kinder, more accessible, and ultimately happier when we accept that life as we know it will end? Why is it that young people are so arrogant in their dealings with other human beings when the elderly tend to be humble and giving and grateful and happy?

What does it really mean to live?

I believe the answer becomes clear with the addition of a few simple words.

On death.

When you accept that you will die, and you accept that all things, good and bad, will end. When you accept that people were meant to be more than 'only human' as we so excuse ourselves to be, only then, perhaps, will you finally learn to become yourself. Only then, will you finally learn to live.

On life:

Air

High. On a mountain. Trees surrounding. New, clean air filling lungs. Its Cold. Feels Good. Feels good going down my throat, or wherever it goes down. 

 Sensation. Sensation never before experienced. Lungs expand to their fullest and embrace the richness of the lightness of the air.

A newborn baby's first breath. Feels like that. Completely new. Unexplored. Yet exhilarating. Thrilling. 

Can't stop soaking in all the air Surrounding. Making each breath fill my lungs to capacity and then some cause it tastes to good. Tastes light.

 Feels powerful, yet light.

I'd imagine this is what being immortal feels like.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

Immortality spreading through my veins. Filling every pore. Every crack, crevice, Every empty space within my soul.

Eyes Setting On You

Imagine the most beautiful sunset that you've ever seen.

Hand painted with vibrant colors of orange, pink, even green.

The pigments are composed in the most beautiful way.

Even the most worldly man would stop, perhaps stay.

We are perched together on the crest of a hill, 

Overlooking the valley. A warm blanket. A chill.

Beneath the vast skyline is a mirror of the skys.

A breathtaking lake, a masterpiece before eyes.

But sitting next to me, your face is burning bright.

The same vibrant colors are blinding my sight.

The lake, and the beauty, of the sun setting too,

are awe-inspiring, brilliant. Yet my eyes set on you.