Creativity Blog Post

How can creativity be applied to your personal interests? 
 Well, I like to write and creativity is a huge part of writing.

What does creativity have to do with engineering, parenting, computer science, math etc.?
It takes creative to be innovative and find what works, which can be applied to all of these.

How you can use you creativity to solve a problem you have in your life right now?
I can use it to think in new ways that might provide a solution for my problem.
Do you agree or disagree with her idea of where genius comes from?
I totally agree, I think it's a beautiful idea and I am very much attracted to it.

My Weekend.

To be honest my weekend was pretty boring. The most exciting thing of my weekend? Drum roll please... wearing a new dress, obviously I have no life. On Friday, because I got grounded, I stayed at home with my sister, sister in law and mother. We cooked dinner and watched Bridesmaids, which is a hilarious movie but not for the prude.

On Saturday, I got to wear my new dress to go get my family lunch, which was delicious mexican food.
We then ran errands, we went to sam's club and bought a new mattress.

Yesterday, I babysat my niece who's really fussy if her mom isn't around. She was blowing kisses to me and my mom, which was melt your heart adorable.  She went to bed at nine then woke up at eleven and wouldn't go back to sleep until her mom got home from work at 12:30. Needless to say, I am exhausted.
Seriously, babysitting is the best form birth control, sometimes it makes me never want to have kids.

Another thing that happened this weekend I became addicted to rage comics. Again, I have no life, hopefully next weekend will be more interesting.

Poems (Personal Blog Post #3)

 I'm running out of things to blog about, so I'll talk about writing. I've been attempting to write since 5th grade and it never clicked until I took a creative writing class a couple of months ago. It wasn't something the teacher said or taught, it was almost as if something in my head just shifted into place. I started writing poetry, which is something I've really come to love, because it's little pieces of me being spurt out in to stanzas, forming this little slice of artwork.  I don't really believe in explaining my own poetry because I feel like it ruins the readers experience. Poetry isn't something that always makes sense, as long as you have an experience with the poem, no matter if it's good or bad, the poem had done its job. So I'll put a few of my poems on here for you to read. 

This is my first poem:

             Splendor

The dulled red of the smoke stack,

contrasting the glimmering mass of the ocean.

High and low,

nothing is quite even.

Black tiled floors are a sparkling gateway to bliss.

The wonder of the details surpasses the 

whole.

The long hallways extend forever,

voyeurism never ends.

Animated posters depict unlikely scenarios.

Repetition, repetition 

The renters age is apparent:

lipsticked mirrors, American flag bandana.

Little speakers protrude, provoking sounds,

cushioned by luxurious pillows.

Scattered personalities fill the room.

Each person is their own decoration,

opinions expire, chatter clangs.

He sits quietly in red and black:

special shoes.

The hat is missing, no representation of home.

Expression is intrigued by a familiar position.

A release of comfort flows from his teeth.

Wink.

Air shifts, intimacy is inhaled through the door and into his nose.

Glare, then slowly makes his

exit.

                        Southern Distress 

Blue eyes roll back into her head, a violent, uncanny scene. 

It was worse back then:

stolen kittens and freshly killed meat.

She raises a finger, 

There, that's where he hung the drunk man by his feet, with the dirty rope. 

And the smell of okra and intolerance rose from the ground.

Which reminds me of that black, mid-night snake I found in the barn.

It crawled, with hands, into my dream.

He came to my window last night and he's all there was.

Cold and white, the moon leaked a fresh stream of air.

With the things i can not have you force - 

a cut,

beneath my skin.

And i'll see you and me in the distance.

Daydream

Bronze statues and grey horizons,

weeping cities of no existence.

Yellowed pages bound in leather lay on antique rugs.

The tree will catch your dreams.

Stars in the night sky are over filled, magic 

bubbles.

The spider's web is shattered:

a broken hand mirror reflecting rainbow light.

The moon follows the tide,

plumet.

Darkness is void of your of mistake.

Remember, blood stains.

And they'd never guess I'm talking about you.

Creativity Blog Post - New Perspective.

To whom it may concern,

Kenzie is extremely difficult to get along with, she never wakes up on time and her room is a mess, but she sees none of this as a problem. She also listens to her music too much, then acts as if it's a huge burden for me to talk to her if the radio is playing. I  find all this to be frustrating and tiring. She also gets angry with me a lot, failing to realize that she is hurting me too.  Yelling is now become an annoying  but never unusual occurrence in our house and I often wonder if the people in the next apartment over can hear us every word of our ridiculously petty fights.

I know one day we will be able to move on from this phase and we will appreciate each other more after learning from this rocky time in our relationship. Even though we do fight, I do love her with all my heart. 

- Karen