wonders of cardboard

I just embarked on an epic construction project this past weekend. In an effort to save money (and recycle the millions of cardboard boxes that live in my garage), I came up with an idea. Light bulb: what if I make furniture out of cardboard?! The haters all said it couldn't be done.

"How is it going to be stable??"

Well I wasn't about to be put down that easily. I don't know what people did in the olden days without the internet. But here in the future, I typed cardboard bookcases into my Google browser and voila! I received images of the most beautiful and artistic bookcases I had ever seen! ALL MADE OF CARDBOARD!



So my plan was in full motion. I bought a glue gun, tape, paint, and a box cutter and got down to business. I started cutting up cardboard and three days later and I had a very structurally sound cardboard bookcase! Add a little wood stain coloring and it actually looks like wood!


Sure it might look at little amateur, but with a little practice, I'm sure I could build gorgeous bookcases like the ones up top.

I'm an truly amazed at my creative abilities. I knew there was something I could do with all those boxes and I'm hella psyched I thought to build furniture. Now I'm moving on to bigger and better projects. My next project will be to build a chair and table. I'm about to furnish our guest bedroom without buying a single piece of furniture!

This is just another skill to add to my business. Crocheted goods/Hair salon/Cardboard furniture store... has a nice ring to it. I could call it Fabulosity! by Sage.

poetry is my mistress

I'm just going to let you guys know that since the beginning of my poetry class this semester, I have gotten immensely better at writing poems. This is exactly what I wanted to happen and I'm so glad I'm taking this class. Every time I think about writing, it just flows. I get one idea and it explodes into a beautifully crafted work of art that I just can't help but smile when I read.

Yes, I'm praising my own work. You should all be used to my conceitedness by now. I am quite fabulous. Many of you may not feel the wondrous glory and magnificence that emanates from my work but you're missing out! (Plus most of the work I've posted has been pure craptatiousness, with the exception of a few poems.)

But I've really fallen in love with the new works I've been producing this semester and I'm really excited to share it here. So stay tuned for more of my poetic genius!

battle in the sky

Look closely and you’ll see they move

Crawling across with no destination

The sky is tired and yearns to be released

But constant showers give it no relief

Those thick clouds wrap around the sky

Clinging for control

A continuous battle:

Cloud against sky with cloud in the lead

Hateful and lustful and wanting it all

For if only it would bear its soul

If only it would open up and pour out

Then cloud would move on and sky would be free

I see it happening

Out there in the distance

A small glimpse of sky’s beautiful form

Peeking through holes in cloud’s armor

Then sun, and sky and cloud

Would dance together

Sharing secrets and crying tears

Always open to each other’s reign

something about mornings

I walked outside and turned the corner onto the strip of road that runs behind my house. It was a bright early morning but the cold of night hadn't quite left the air yet.

I walked slowly in the middle of the street, breathing in the crisp air and enjoying the cold on my skin. I love early mornings in the fall. Sunny and cold. It's a perfect combination.

Cars drove by on my right and I cleared the street for those in front of me. The sound of leaves swooshed in front of me as each car passed by.

I tightened my coat around me. It was a long walk, but I was enjoying it. The street was silent apart from the sound of cars. The air felt empty and I felt calm.

I thought about the times I used to run along this road and smiled. As much as I hated running, I actually felt good after each run.

I thought about the way the trees looked alive with so many colors. I used to hate the color changing leaves, but in this morning, they looked magical.

I thought about the day that was beginning and the events I was about to live through. I wouldn't be able to survive another day unless I started it out with something beautiful.

Nature has a way of erasing all the bad. Or at least making you forget about it for the time being. Something about those leaves, the cold, the quiet.

Mornings have never been more perfect. I could hear the city waking up. More cars on the road as the street became louder.

Every scent, breeze, and sound could be felt as I walked the street. That small strip of road that runs behind my house.

At the end of the street I turned around and started my walk back home. Returning to the chaos of my life but hoping for the quiet of my soul.

If only the entire day could be as glorious as that early morning. If only I could live like that moment was forever.

If I could just breathe in those scents, those sounds, and that ambiance. Everything that makes life full, right there on that small strip of road that runs behind my house.

there's always room for improvement

I don't know how I do it, but somehow I got every professor to waive the pre-reqs for me to take their classes. I haven't been so excited for a semester to come since freshman year of college.

Next semester I'm taking a sociology course (my first), a poetry class (perfect, as long as it does get full before I can register), some stupid science class (that's what I get for putting it off), and a clinical law class. Ok so it doesn't sound so exciting after writing it all out... but if I ignore every class except poetry, then I'm hella excited!

By now we should all be well aware of how much I love poetry, and how much I suck at it. But I've been writing for a long time so I'm pretty excited to actually take a class that can teach me how to write better.


The professor asked my why I wanted to take poetry and I responded with my usual reply of "I have a passion for language and art..." and then continued to explain like I always do people when they ask me why I like poetry or advertising. He of course understood and said he hoped to I would learn to think of language itself as art. I would have replied that I already do, but he had let me in the class so I decided to stop emailing him. Don't want to annoy the professor with too many emails so early.

I will be posting more poetry on my blog since I checked and realized I only have 6 posts about poetry (7 if you count this one) so far. Perhaps you can all watch me get better and see my writing change.