The Idaho Commons. Pen on paper.
It’s coming up on a year that I’ve moved, a year since I graduated, and a year since I started working as a professional journalist.
Despite the amount of time away, I can’t help but think of Idaho as home. It’s where I grew up. It’s where everyone in the family except myself and my aunt live. And it is so much greener than the Southwest. The air is fresh, the breeze kisses the skin, the sun filters through the pine trees.
It was a good 20-some years, and I can’t wait to visit in on vacation.
No fry sauce to be found in the Southwest.
Seriously. They don’t have fry sauce.
Pen, pencil, sharpie on paper.
It was an amazing experience, and I know I will visit again soon.
I got to spend an amazing time in New Orleans back in November, and here are some photos from that time.
My next adventure will take me to New York City.
I know this is supposed to be stuff I didn’t write for the campus newspaper, but this was a person I met who greatly impacted my life and I hope that I can continue to look at my life differently because of this one person.
Without further ado, meet Luis Aleman.
It was miserable. It was a place where people labored, day in and day out, carrying boxes of potatoes from one end of the warehouse to another — it was the place Luis Aleman spent a year in order to raise money to go to college.
“I remember thinking ‘Is this what hell feels like?’” Aleman said.
Photos from the Freak Alley Gallery in Boise, Idaho. This alley is a place where people get together and create street art or graffiti art.
My personal favorites are the ones made out of mirrors (Jimi Hendrix and MLK Jr.) and the Guy Fawkes/V portrait.
Just because I couldn’t forget about this story I wrote for the University of Idaho campus newspaper a year or so ago, i wanted to put it here too.
The door, locked to most, hides a secret of campus. To the left and right, and even straight ahead, rooms overflow with clothes. Some are ‘60s patterns and trends, others are silk kimonos from pre-1900. There is even a 100-year-old replica of an 18th century French Court gown worn to costume balls in the late 1800s or early 1900s. Continue reading
I don’t know who this woman was, but she was Amsterdam. I am Amsterdam. We are Amsterdam.
I had to escape some of the summer heat in my second-floor, incredibly hot apartment and so decided to visit family leading up to the Fourth of July.
Every morning I wake up and can hear the little rattle of dog tags and get to see these cute brown puppy eyes looking up at me. Being an amateur photographer and really wanting to capture the little red labradoodle’s personality, I took out my camera and started snapping away. After a little while he started trying to gnaw on the strap, so I stopped and played with him for a bit.
Needless to say, playing with a puppy is one of the best stress relievers I have ever known. And Dooley is one of the best players.
As a reporter, there really aren’t a lot of ways to express opinions without treading on toes, or write short stories or blurbs from the “I’ll-finish-it-one-day” novel, or take photos and edit them to show the true beauty, or even draw pictures that make people wonder about the artist’s thoughts. That is what this blog is. It is thoughts, feelings, recipes, adventures, pictures, illustrations, and much more of a college student, and reporter, who spends the day studying Criminology and Journalism without a creative outlet.