AudgePodge

"I fell into a burning ring of fire..."  The rough rhythm of Johnny Cash booms. My body whirls. Lunges. A heavy weight is shifted to the side, then back again. Screams surround me. It's hot here. My mouth dry from the spinning, from the permissible enjoyment of "Wipeout." Clusters of faces, blurred at the edges, like a wisp of indecipherable grins; teeth baring wide.  It's busy here, at the amusement park...though this is to be expected during the sunny season. Blue murmurs, rays of heat stab the hot metal my arm is lying on. I remember this place well; look back on it with fondness.  A place to which I came to visit most summers.  The monotony of "Pirates Cove," stepping through the pilled curtain into the inky atmosphere, inhaling faux ocean and its staleness of years.  Paper mache swashbucklers hold an intense, lingering gaze.  "Aye, ye mateys." Crunched, noise-polluted audio.  Expectation of the next room, full of smudged mirrors and ...

  Greetings, all.  Spring break flourished with potential as blossoms swirled through the streets. For some, this 10-day (give or take) break allowed for miniature vacations, educational and occupational opportunities, and maybe even volunteer work. For me, however, it was just monotonous time. I can’t provide an ever-intriguing article regarding my misadventures—or, lack thereof—but I can apprise you about my personal reflection as spring settles in the air.  Last term: news reporting. This term: feature writing. I am ecstatic. Adjectives and flowery language have been my best friends for years, and ever more so now that I am venturing into two different writing “worlds.” As of now, I continue down the path of journalism with my head held high and my confidence expanding faster than I could have ever predicted.  While I provided a few articles for the Commuter last term, my goals have, just like the tree-lined roads, blossomed into exemplary ambitions. I wish to wri...