Every Lil' Thing

I had found myself on the floor of my bathroom, flooding in used tissues, soaking in tears.  Empty ice cream pints crumpled up and melting. Clothes and jewelry scattered everywhere. And my shirt sleeve, coated in tears and snot. I was not in a good place, lonely, depressed, and angry.  I had tried everything, like eating my feelings and watching “Friends”, hoping that Joey Tribbiani would cheer me up, but no.  Not the Phish Food Ben and Jerry’s, not the enthusiasm and stupidity of Phoebe Buffet, nothing. Thoughts wouldn't stop rushing into my head, and tears would not stop flowing. I left my bathroom and came to my bed, cuddled in it, and saw my computer.  A new thought came into my head.  I opened up my computer and let it all out.  Over two pages of pure anger, sadness, venting, and tears, all let out on one solo word document, after ten minutes of non-stop writing. When I was done, I had realized the tears had dried, my frown was gone, and that my shakin...

  Our playroom and living room had been turned into some kind of nursery.  The yellow walls and the cream colored rug that lined the floors suddenly had a different feeling, a different meaning. I wasn't mad about it, hell I was getting 12 more siblings, and god knows that I hated my current ones.  It was right before my 7th birthday in April of 1975.  The Vietnam war was in play, and somehow I was involved. Well me, and my family.  You see, my dad was a prominent pediatrician in the area, Pound Ridge, New York, and he had been asked to house, and take care of 12 Vietnamese orphans, who were caught in a plane crash known as “Operation Baby Lift”. Our job was to nurse them back to heath, and then put them up for adoption.  Before I knew it, 12 white cribs, dirty diapers, empty and spilling formula bottles, were where my legos and barbie house used to be, and they were oozing their gross milk all over my precious dolls’ hair.  But, I didn't care too muc...

Music has always been an escape, even from the beginning of time. Pilgrims, merchants, colonizers, and slaves; flappers, soldiers, boomers, and millennials; parents and children; rich and poor; black, brown and white. People of all decades and centuries can connect with the power of music. It hasn’t always been a musical world full of Kanye Wests and Ariana Grandes, but there has always been a song. There has always been a story waiting to be told. Not just written on paper or blurted out of one's mouth, but a story told with a beat. With the clapping of hands and the stomping of feet, we can hear and feel the pain, the sorrow, the love and happiness, the war and the peace. Music has evolved just as much as our nation. The diversity of music over the years mirrors the diversity of our people and the cultures that are living in this melting pot. The story of America can easily be explained through the evolution of song. Music is, and always has been, a reflection of the time in whic...

  I never saw myself as a 58-year old man preparing to go to court to gain custody of my fostered grandchild. Let me explain myself. Hi, I'm Julius Kemper but all my friends call me Jerry.  I'm a born and raised, proud Bostonian with a tick for engineering.  Listen, I know I'm a nerd as if my grey bifocals and navy blue suspenders on my light brown striped shirt don't give it away.  I'm practically a whiter, balder, and shorter Steven Urkle. Enough of me, now let’s get into my life. About three years back, my wife Martha and I were living in Arlington, with our children off and onto better things. We had been happily married for over 25 years, and in none of those years has the thought of taking off this metal band off of my finger crossed my mind.  We had three kids; Matt who was 28, the oldest, and the burliest of the three.  He was the classic older brother, you know, looking out for Emma, his sister, and constantly putting Lucas in a headlock.  Alw...

  Growing up, I believed that, well... "growing up" was a myth. I believed that everyone just  stayed put in their period of life. My mom would stay by my side, no matter what  challenges she faced, she would smack them down and still protect her little girl; my  brothers would stay annoying teenage boys blasting music and playing video  games till 2am; I would stay my dad's "little princess" and I would stay having little, to  no, responsibility, but lord! Was I wrong. The truth is, nothing stays the same. It feels  more than weird to think about leaving high school and think about living on my own, think  about the career I will want to do for the rest of my life. It's not scary, I'm not afraid of what's  to come, no, that's not it. It just feels bizarre, you know, strange to think that the unknown  will soon become... known? When I came into high school, I thought that as soon as I  stepped foot in the quad, I'd feel like a grown...

A beautiful blonde girl, adorned in a blue dress by talking mice loses her glass slipper, her true love finds it, they end up together and have a happily ever after.  Her bright red lips suck into a poison apple as she falls into a deep sleep only to be awoken by a true love's kiss. To no surprise, she too had a happily ever after.  “The Blindside”, a true story about a woman who took in this homeless child, made him part of her family and made him the huge success he is today. Leigh Anne Tuohy taught Michael Oher the true meaning of love and is he is now proud to call the Tuohy family his own.  Whether it’s the love of a friend, the love of family, or just true love, American movies, and stories, tend to end in the same way, a “happily ever after”.  While the word “love” for us may paint a picture of an elated couple riding off into the sunset on a horse, it is important to know that those four letters mean different things to other countries.  It's important t...

  "Ain't nothing changed but the year it is,” - (USC) Law Professor Jody David Armour A drug-dealing high school drop-out, a scholar-by-day and poet-by-night, and a struggling DJ walk into a nightclub…Little did anyone know that a few kids from a heavily gang-affiliated and impoverished town would later become known as the “Fathers of Gangsta Rap”. While growing up practically drowning in sights of death and AK-47’s, these men had nowhere to go but up, and so they did. Using their life experiences, memories, and fears of both the past and future, NWA forever changed the name of rap and exposed the injustices inbred in the justice system. Being considered the “world’s most dangerous group” only gave these men more ammunition to fight, and so they did. Using words as a weapon to fight their biggest enemies - the police and systemic racism -, “N****z Wit Attitude” (better known as NWA) started a movement and created art that was a “reflection of [their] realities”. Though controv...