The Green Menace

Did you know, that if you inhale a pea, it can sprout and grow in your lungs?

If you didn’t, neither did I until yesterday. Being in quarantine, I have been using social media more to keep my sanity from slipping away. I was scrolling through Facebook, when I stumbled upon this fact:

Shocked, intrigued, and excited by this weird fact, I decided to share it with several friends of mine, one of them being a mother, who, like my own, highly encourages her kids to eat their vegetables. She responded, “. . . that is just an excuse.”

Was it? I wondered, so I investigated. Continue reading

The Spork Challenge

Toy Story is back! Woody, Buzz, and Jessie have returned to the big screen for a new chapter.  And included with them, are some new toys, such as Benson, a creepy doll; Duke Caboom, a Canadian daredevil; and Forky, a spork. But you see, Forky didn’t begin the movie as a toy.

In the beginning, Forky was nothing more than trash–literally. When Bonnie, the toys’ new owner, is having a hard time at Kindergarten orientation, Woody tries to help her out by retrieving Bonnie’s art supplies that a bully had discarded into the trash, along with a spork. Using googly eyes, a rubber band, yarn, a popsicle stick, clay, a pipe cleaner, and the spork, Bonnie makes for herself a new friend. And not only did Bonnie make Forky, but she even wrote her name on the bottom of his feet. What was trash is now Bonnie’s most prized possession. As Woody later says, “Alright, Forky. You have to understand how lucky you are right now. You’re Bonnie’s toy. You are going to help create happy memories that will last for the rest of her life.”

But, at first, Forky doesn’t want to be a toy; he still thinks he’s trash: “I was meant for soup, salad, maybe chili. And then the trash! I’m litter!” There’s even a whole montage in the movie of Forky tossing himself away inside disgusting trashcans, as Woody keeps tossing him out back to Bonnie. Bonnie has given Forky a new purpose, yet he didn’t want to embrace it, rushing to what was familiar and safe for him, that being the inside of a trashcan.

For many, Forky is a relatable character. Because even though he’s a tritagonist in a kid’s movie, he wrestles with a problem that’s very normal. Continue reading

Our Amazing Creator: Part III

Our God, is an amazing Creator.

He created the basilisk:

No, basilisks cannot paralyze or kill people with their stares, as they can in the world of Harry Potter, but they do have a pretty fantastic ability.

Concerning these lizards, there are four species of basilisks which reside in Central and Southern America. The brown basilisk is actually an invasive species, which has been introduced to Florida, and has adapted to the colder winters by burrowing itself into leaf litter for warmth. As Dr. Ian Malcolm says, “Life, uh, finds a way.” Though luckily, these lizards are not as ferocious as a T-rex or a Velociraptor.

Basilisks are also known as the “Jesus Lizard,” because they can run on water. When fleeing from a predator, such as a snake or a large bird, the basilisk can run at a velocity of 4.9 feet per second for about 15 feet, before they sink and have to swim on all fours. They are able to do this thanks to the buoyancy created by the flaps between their toes, which produce a larger surface area and pockets of air. Unlike Peter, these reptiles are able to run on water not because of faith, but because of the creative features which their Creator has blessed them with: Continue reading

The Tales of Traveling with an Open Backpack

14570220_10210808326503416_4024642559880682269_nThe bell rung, releasing me to venture from my 11 o’ clock class to lunch. I stuffed my books and notes in my backpack before racing for the door. Next came weaving through the bodies of the corral, I mean hall. Squeezing through couples, detouring around friends, bumping into backpacks of those who had stopped to greet another with a hug. Finally, after shooting down a near-empty hallway, I believed I was scot-free. I was nearing the stairwell which headded to the caf when a voice stopped me, “Hey, do you know you’re backpack’s open?”

“Yes?” I replied somewhat puzzled, with my stomach protesting for the slight delay.

“Oh, okay. I thought I would tell you.”

“Thank you,” I replied before separating, me heading to the salad bar for some cottage cheese.

That was also not the only time which I’ve been stopped by a passerby trying to help, alerting me of my open backpack. One of my favorite examples, is a random guy who tried to close it for my while I was walking  down a fleet of stairs.

“Why do you keep your backpack open?” asked another.  Continue reading

Winter Storm Thor

The Journal of a Snowbound College Kid.


5Day 1: I hear the sleet pelting on my windows as I type this entry. Luckily, I still have power, and the warm water has not gone out. School has already been canceled for tomorrow, for the Eskimo and polar bear-hybrid populations are low in the university’s student body. In addition, if the fear from the storm was not enough to cancel classes, there are many desperate students who are more than willing to fake their own deaths to escape from midterms.

My feet have thawed from braving the storm. I had been blinded from assaulting ice, while trudging through the slippy landscape. Luckily, I was not spotted by any famished abominable snowmen as I made my way here.  Continue reading

May 22-2014

All In

Against all odds,
I have taken great
I pray for a great 
‘Like a virgin who has
given away her virginity,
her precious gift–
for love? or wasted?
Or a player at a casino,
all in,
not a chip not played.
I have taken a chance
But the ? is–
Am I doing right?
Or burying myself in a grave mistake? Continue reading

Cafeteria Pondering

I sit, I wonder,
As I hear clanking plates,
Why in caf
are there always tate-
Why must the white rabbit
always be late?
What use to catch
a catfish—which bait?
Is there a girl here, named
As I see salad bar,
Oh so far,
I think,
Why are there no not any dates?
Why is date the fruit,
Spelt samely as
going out on a date?
Perhaps fate?
Or a question that
leaves an open gate.
I do hate
these seeds in my teeth,
I think, swigging a gulp of
milk for relief.
I see an Aussie say,
“G’day mate!”
As I wait, Continue reading

Pen vs. Pencil


Which do you prefer—pen or pencil?

Personally, I prefer pens. I like the sight of the ink—the boldness and fluidness of it, especially of uni-ball pens! I also don’t have to worry about words pulling a Houdini after years of being on the page. And being left handed—I hate smudging my paper with pencil anatomy, having to wash graphite off my hand after every period.

From what I’ve observed in classrooms though, both high school and college, I think that I’m in the minority. The appeal of the pencil—being able to erase mistakes, seems to be more favorable than the utensil that makes a declaration with every stroke, in which a mistake is very noticeable with a dark line or scribble. (I do agree though, the beaver-side of me that is, pencils are much better to chew on than pens [bad habit].) And perhaps, not all messages should last forever and be allowed to fade with time, or they shall be greatly misunderstood later, such as “He testified for the prostitution[1].” or “It’s like killing two brides[2] with one stone.” or even “Baseball-sized hell[3] fell on the town.” (Important Tip: When writing, check spelling, kind of important.)

So I wonder, does the preference of pen or pencil reveal an aspect of your character? Continue reading