tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4232004412755615872024-02-20T04:21:49.093-05:00Gossamer LensThrough every lens there is a different view.
Stay up-to-date with Gossamer Lens at: Gossamerlens.comThe Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-18716164306755173542019-12-09T12:30:00.000-05:002019-12-20T16:54:39.904-05:00Progress But Same Old Every step of life has its own milestones. In my life, turning 12 made me a young woman, 16 allowed dating, 18 was full of voting rights. At some point I finished reading Harry Potter, I bought my first car, I got engaged. For everyone their milestones are different. For me, I decided to add education as a part of my life journey. Due to this, I now face a rather big milestone in that journey. I am finishing my undergraduate degree. As of December 20th, I will have graduated with my Bachelor's. <br />
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Read the rest of this post at: <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/progress-but-same-old">https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/progress-but-same-old</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<br />The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-52805490394950603162019-11-22T16:55:00.000-05:002019-12-20T16:51:27.087-05:00Holding On and Moving On The last couple years have changed me as a person. With this in mind, I yearn to reach out and to blog again. However, I cannot do so as The Damsel. I have changed to much. While I hold onto the core of me. The writer, the poet. I must move on to a different way of expressing and being. For some this change will seem paltry. For me it has been cleansing. I am moving onto a new blog platform. A link all my own, a website fully functional to the new whims I have.<br />
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I am pleased to introduce you to <a href="http://gossamerlens.com/" target="_blank">gossamerlens.com</a> </div>
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In the blogpost of the same name "Holding On and Moving On" you will find an entry into a new chapter. For sometimes as we grow we must make space for the old us but move on to fulfill ourselves.</div>
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If you wish to continue reading my work, supporting my writing, and see how I have grown and wish to grow my blogger presence... I hope you will scroll to the bottom of the <a href="http://gossamerlens.com/" target="_blank">gossamerlens.com</a> and give me a like over there. Following 2019 posts will be posted both here and on my new blog. However, come 2020 it will be all about moving on. </div>
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Much love, and with goodbyes, The Damsel. </div>
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Ald Idunn, the new me, looks forward to greeting you.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/to-study-or-to-learn">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-48005384565293387922017-02-18T19:35:00.000-05:002019-12-20T16:50:38.668-05:00Swirling, Moving Emotions<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/swirling-moving-emotions">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A Blank Page before me, a head full of thoughts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Nothing written in ages, so many things to write. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I am a person who feels. The other evening my cat needed to take a pill. My mother asked me to put it in as she held him. I, a 19-year-old woman, did my best couple attempts. He mewled quite pitifully and my heart burst, and tears came forth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Once when I was maybe 7 or 9, some age not currently mine. My mum and I went through my room and cleaned out things that were broken, unused, unheeded. I threw away a broken heart shaped music box. It locked, it sang, it was from a friend, and it was broken. We threw it away. Sometime, a couple weeks later, I was caught in a frenzy of searching. It may have been late. All I know is the moon was up when my father came into my room to find his daughter rummaging through her room, with a tear-stained face. I cried my heart out over that box. I sobbed into my father's chest over that box. I don't even remember who it was from... Nor my age... Or details. It was broken and I cried for it's loss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I felt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> With my 19-year-old tears, in mind, over a cat who's sick and doesn't want his medicine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> With my 7 or 9-year-old tears over a broken plastic box, in mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Let's think of lately. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> About a year ago I got out of my first serious relationship, with an emotionally abusive boyfriend. I have dated a Marine who was lovely, but broken and hurting. I have watched someone, who irks my feminist and human leanings, become president of the U.S. All this while I traveled along a path of faith. A path leading from confusion, in regards to the church I loved, to hurt... to helplessness... to a changing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I have held silence. Because I feel so very much and this past year has been so very hard. I feel insecure in my feelings. I know so many people have it worse. So, who am I to speak of my feelings? Of my hurt? I want to speak to the pain of the world. But all to often I speak of the pain of my world. The world I am oh so much more familiar with. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> But silence is not my answer. Poetry has been my leaning. Writing is just an extension of my being. So I'm going to try and forget myself, my insecurity, my uncertainty... the me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I simply want to write and give into the swirling, moving emotions that are to be. </span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-70889970641168480462016-05-14T20:26:00.000-04:002019-12-20T16:51:07.104-05:00To Study or To Learn?<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/to-study-or-to-learn">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I sit here studying. I worry about my assignments, the coming tests (especially finals), and ultimately my grades. We (although maybe it's just me?) as students tend to take in information in order to pour it back out. All to often it's about grades and not about actually learning and growing off of information. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDNmCBYdK5PcYbc83KcyVTsaE_gycEk6dbcbEkfus4VBiqVNBFZGbHFcOqkclBiss2YLlWEBKcY00_45jFHmXSMrHkzEcOHyLt3LNsjawq52bHYNIHW4f2qfJDXDSntGgLBKMFOvLrnc/s640/blogger-image-249911038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDNmCBYdK5PcYbc83KcyVTsaE_gycEk6dbcbEkfus4VBiqVNBFZGbHFcOqkclBiss2YLlWEBKcY00_45jFHmXSMrHkzEcOHyLt3LNsjawq52bHYNIHW4f2qfJDXDSntGgLBKMFOvLrnc/s320/blogger-image-249911038.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I wish I could say I break away from this. That I ignore the grade, and just do it for the learning. I wish I could say this, because I truly value the idea of soaking in knowledge. I love the idea of learning just for the sake of learning. Not for doing well on the next test, and then forgetting all the information after the test is over. But the fact is, I'm competitive and I cannot help myself. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Through being homeschooled I learned to love and appreciate learning in general. I legitimately enjoy learning new things, and I want to keep all the information I can. Yet, a great part of me wants to do as well as I can, and to beat my previous scores. I want to impress the teacher (if possible) or impress myself. And if I can't impress my teacher or myself I simply strive to get the best number and/or letter grade possible. I want to do my best. All to often "doing my best" ends up meaning "get the best grade"... and I'm tired of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Shouldn't doing your best mean something more than getting a nice letter grade written on that last biology test? Shouldn't doing your best mean that you are interested? Shouldn't it mean remembering things? Shouldn't learning meaning something more?</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I think that learning should mean something more. It should mean something more than studying late to pass tests, working to get the best grade you can, and memorizing facts (or teachers ideas).</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Learning, <a amzn-ps-bm-asin="087779295X" class="amzn_ps_bm_tl" data-amzn-link-id="37a2aa341bdebc7c7f4507c23a8c1d47" data-amzn-ps-bm-keyword="webster dictionary" href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Merriam-Webster-Dictionary-Edition-2016/dp/087779295X/ref=as_li_bk_tl/?tag=gosslens0f-20&linkId=37a2aa341bdebc7c7f4507c23a8c1d47&linkCode=ktl" id="amznPsBmLink_1066111" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">according to Webster,</a><img alt="" border="0" height="0" id="amznPsBmPixel_1066111" src="https://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?source=bk&t=gosslens0f-20&bm-id=default&l=ktl&linkId=37a2aa341bdebc7c7f4507c23a8c1d47&_cb=1463256861709" style="border: none !important; height: 0px !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; width: 0px !important;" width="0" /> means gaining "</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">knowledge or skills through experience, study, or by being taught." Maybe we should balance out our focus and think a little less about studying or being taught, and think a little more about learning through experience. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I plan on balancing a little more this summer, and having more full experiences. Join me? </span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-80602847189552324782016-04-22T17:00:00.000-04:002019-12-20T16:50:29.786-05:00Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part Two ~With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/two-stories-one-illustration-part-2-with-art-by-kiluminvti">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> If you haven't already read Part One <a href="http://gossamerlense.blogspot.com/2016/04/two-stories-one-illustration-part-one.html" target="_blank">(click here to read)</a> you might ask, "What does this title mean?" Well let me explain, this post is apart of a collaboration with the artist <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank">Kiluminvti</a>, and writer <a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank">A.J.Tawil</a>. In this two part series two stories are told. The first is featured in <a href="http://gossamerlense.blogspot.com/2016/04/two-stories-one-illustration-part-one.html" target="_blank">a previous post</a> and is written by </span></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank">A.J.Tawil</a>. The second story is shared below and told by myself. Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank">Kiluminvti</a>. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYFSz-i80cBpKcbeIjOpDEKLAvtOlX5qc1BLq0PkM0g-aTQ8tIzWS1DywNsQk3mZ5_EEFRxN1BA2PHShoIRkxWGOyLmCQBsXB3Hup3eMlL3x_5Puz9mQ8Gs8xPa9zFUSEQRKCH-a3Fks/s1600/Kiluminvti+and+A.J.Tawil+Collab+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYFSz-i80cBpKcbeIjOpDEKLAvtOlX5qc1BLq0PkM0g-aTQ8tIzWS1DywNsQk3mZ5_EEFRxN1BA2PHShoIRkxWGOyLmCQBsXB3Hup3eMlL3x_5Puz9mQ8Gs8xPa9zFUSEQRKCH-a3Fks/s320/Kiluminvti+and+A.J.Tawil+Collab+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> W</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ithout further ado, I present my story: </span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon. </span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Her head caught in a cloud of ribbon, her shoulders brushed with it. Her hands couldn't help but let it wind through them. When had it appeared? Who knew. Some said it had always been with her. Some whispered that it had appeared out of the blue. But no matter how people imagined it came into being... the fact was that it was. Had she ever tried to rid herself of it? No! For she clung to it, as it was her uniqueness. None could claim, nor even remember, someone who had such a beautiful highlight of color. Especially one that floated around, and about, and with them at all times. </span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Often people traveled to see this lady with the flowing ribbon. It fascinated them. The young men spoke of how it highlighted her graceful shape. The mothers clucked and worried about their own daughters who were "not so naturally gifted." This lady never thought to tell of how sometimes it got in the way. Of how she might be trying to help with chores, and instead she would catch in the ribbon. As time went on, she didn't even think much of how it tore her away from work. What was work anyway, when she had something that drew people towards her? </span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Now though, she sat. Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon. In days past she had often thought outside of the ribbon. Outside of letting it fascinate her. But now, it no longer just drew her away from work. It drew her away from reading. Sometimes away from friends. Once she had cared, now she let herself get caught in looking at the shimmering red of it, whenever she wanted. Lately, as long as she wanted. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> In fact, she couldn't stop looking. Because really, wasn't all that she was? It was beauty, it was special, people found her to see it. So wasn't that what she should focus on? Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon. Not knowing her own thoughts and the questions brewing. Her fingers curled around the ribbon. She just knew it felt like everything. Her fingers curled around the ribbon. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Slowly. Curled. Around. Like the drowning of a mind. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Loosing herself i</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">n what everyone else </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">could see. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Forgetting to be</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">If you would like to see more of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank"><i>Kiluminvti's</i></a> art some of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank"><i>A.J. Tawil's</i></a> writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">Want to read Part One of this collaboration? <u><i><a href="http://www.gossamerlense.blogspot.com/2016/04/two-stories-one-illustration-part-one.html" target="_blank">Click here</a></i></u></span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-43816128766622159772016-04-08T17:27:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:50:24.394-05:00Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part One ~ With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/two-stories-one-illustration-art-by-kiluminvti">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> What does this title mean you may ask? Well let me explain, this post is part of a collaboration with the artist <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank">Kiluminvti</a>, and writer <a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank">A.J.Tawil</a>. In this two part series two stories shall be told. The first is featured in this post and is written by </span></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank">A.J.Tawil</a>. The second story shall be told by myself, next week. Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank">Kiluminvti</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> W</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ithout further ado, I present to you </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank">A.J.Tawil</a>'s story:</span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A dreadful story it is that I am too afraid to speak it. Thus it will be written down on black and white. Do not read aloud not even in whispers for she will hear and only misery will be upon you. Arielle she was once called a beautiful and fair lady. She was kind, and lovely. At the age of 12 her mother died of a violent fever as they all mourned her death she swore an: that never in her life will she be standing idle and useless. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A healer she became at the age of 16. The youngest of them but the most talented. She went from town to town, leaving her father, brothers and sisters behind. Although they were proud they were sad for a presence like hers couldn't ever be replaced. She healed and treated the rich as well as the poor. She was believed by many to be a Saint. She smiled much and her gaze was enough to cure all your heart's sorrows. </span></span><br />
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One day in the town of Flamant she met this boy this little kid of too few a winter to die. She spent sun and moon trying to heal him until he passed away in her arms. The eldest brother, although pained with grief, grew found of the courageous and inspiring woman and she as well. He was brave young man that would anything for his family, she thought.<br />
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They wed a year later in Arielle's home town of Lyon many attended her wedding. High lords, Nobles, peasants and kings were all there to celebrate her wedding. She was loved by all. The newlyweds went on the road together and made a stop in Ashton. Beautiful Ashton, the moon shined, the food was excellent, and the weather perfect. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> She strolled around walking from street to street, admiring the city with her husband until a sudden pull swept her off her feet. It was two lowlifes scums pulling her towards them by her hair. She fought back but overwhelmed by a surprise hit to the head, she fell flat on her stomach. One was holding her down by the arms with his nose sniffing her beautiful black hair.She looked up for an instant just to realize that her husband the young brave man she loved so dearly was running away from the scene without a glance back. She yelled and fought so hard that the one mounting her hit her on the back of her head. ''That's a nice ring ya' have have '' he spat he went for the wedding band, while the other held her wrist. She didn't let them take it so easily, although betrayed. The rogue drew his knife and cut of the finger that was bearing the jewel.<br />
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The rest is history. She was raped, punched, kicked and left to die.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">If you would like to see more of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kiluminvti/" target="_blank"><i>Kiluminvti's</i></a> art some of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/a.j.tawil/" target="_blank"><i>A.J. Tawil's</i></a> writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-11007186079824723342016-01-23T13:48:00.002-05:002019-12-20T16:50:18.281-05:00Wibbly Wobbly Adulthood<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/wibbly-wobbly-adulthood">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> At some point... you become an adult. Correct? I mean, I don't really know. It's a little hard to tell if someones an adult, or just a really big kid... Though we seem to have some adults in this world (or people who claim to be). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I guess we could say that I question adulthood. How can you not? I mean... nobody really knows when it happens. Are you an adult when you turn 18? Or perhaps once you can drink? Or maybe when you can legally rent a car? I don't know. We don't know. Nobody can seem to agree on when you become an adult. That's a little confusing, don't you think? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Well, forget the confusion... I'll just say 18 is adulthood. We will say, 18 is adulthood. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> In that case, I am an adult now! That thought is overwhelming. Not in the way a test may be, or any kind of physical or mental exertion would be. But rather in the way a sudden realization might be. In fact, it is sort of a realization. Turning 18 has been a sudden realization that I've been around a decent bit. I am done with high-school, I am moving into some of my final stages of college... And yet I feel completely unprepared "to adult." Taxes, paying for necessities, my actions being my own... it is all a little overwhelming. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I feel like no amount of Self-Help books will help me become the adult I want to be. So naturally, I've read all the Self-Help books I can get my hands on. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Maybe I'm a little silly. On one hand I feel ready to be an adult, and on the other I don't want to even think about adulting. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Perhaps my anxiety comes from the fact that I don't want to just be an "adult". I want to be a full functioning and contributing human being. I don't want to just do things. I want to see, learn, educate, help, and spread love. I don't just want to adult. I want to be the best adult I can possibly be. Humanity needs more then adults who can be confused for "big children." The world needs more humans who are trying to balance what wibbly wobbly adulthood means. </span></span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-26858704003101099442015-12-19T14:56:00.000-05:002019-12-20T16:50:12.169-05:00Deaths Fingers<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/deaths-fingers">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2;"> Death has touched my family with its greedy fingers. No longer does it claw at my neck, but still it stays near. It's fingers have effected each in my family in their own way. I will always wish it hadn’t come, or that it could have waited a few years. That those fingers could have been kept at bay. However, there is hard truth that will always be reality. Death will claim all of us in the end. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> January 28th, 2010. The evening before, we had all sat together joking over dinner; laughing, unaware of what would happen tomorrow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> In the midst of laughter, Grandpa spilled his cup of water all over the table while passing food to my brother. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> With familiar mock anger Grandpa had exclaimed, “Thomas*, how could you spill my water?” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> My brother, understanding Grandpa's humor, laughed along. Upon questioning Grandpa had jokingly claimed it was all my brother’s fault. Because the food was being passed to him when the glass had been tipped over, Thomas must be blamed. Laughing along with the general merriment and Grandpa’s kindly sarcastic words, I had gotten a towel, cleaned up the water and righted the glass.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2;"> After dinner we all separated to go to our own beds. My Nanna and Grandpa retired to my family's rental “cottage” right behind our own house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2;"> That night, I slept well until the sirens came. I had awoken to see flashing red and white lights dancing on the walls of my upstairs bedroom as a car turned into our driveway. The siren stopped just moments after waking me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> Within those moments of waking, and grogginess I had realized that something was wrong. I slipped out of bed and then went into my sister’s room. She lay in her bed, eyes open and frightened. I had beckoned to her, wanting her to come with me, or at least to me. She clambered out of bed and came. I slipped my hand around hers, and together we had went into the hall and down the stairs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> We went through the living room, family room, and dining room as we traveled to the back of the house. We went to the window facing the back property. The window that locked on our Grandparent's front door. My brother had already stood, watching the car outside. It was an ambulance. We watched until a man opened the door to the back rental. He held the door open as a couple of men, along with my mum, carried our Grandpa out on a stretcher. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="line-height: 2;"> That morning the ambulance left with my Grandpa. Our parents came running over barefoot. They came just long enough to tell us that they were taking Nanna and following the ambulance to the hospital. Before leaving they slipped on shoes, and hugged my siblings and I, and said they would send someone to be with us. We knew that they would most likely be gone until mid-afternoon. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 48px;"> I was left with my siblings. We sat ourselves at the table in a sort of daze. My sister was worried and scared, so I tried my best to comfort her. I promised her that Grandpa would live. I promised that everything would be all right. I knew that it was an empty promise, but it made her, and me, feel better. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 48px;"> Then we heard a knock on the door. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> It was an older woman that we knew well from church. We let her in. She was the one our parents had called so that we wouldn't be alone. I was glad and relieved. Here was an adult. She could make promises that would be kept; she would help my sister be comforted and calm the fear that was rising in my heart. She would help. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> So sure was I that she could help, because she was an adult. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> Instead, she declared that we needed to do the dishes. She said that service would help us feel better. She claimed it, so we did it. As my sister and I unloaded, the dishwasher, I got more and more upset. I wasn’t feeling better, my heart hurt with fear. I felt my Grandpa missing. So I tried to think of it more as service and not a chore. I couldn’t force down the fear that was still rising. Unshed tears stung my eyes and the kitchen shimmered and swam through them. I told myself that I couldn’t cry. I couldn't let it happen. This would help me feel better, she had said so. My sister needed me to be strong. I couldn’t cry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;"> The women swept and talked at the same time. I could catch phrases like: “This will help your mom feel better,” “She won’t be as overwhelmed,” “You need to keep out of her way so you don’t annoy her,” and finally, “Your parents should have taught you about death.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I was done with listening to this woman’s incessant chatter of how we needed to prepare, how we needed to help our parents, and </span><span style="line-height: 2; text-indent: 48px;">what our mother should have done</span><span style="line-height: 2; text-indent: 36pt;">. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Our parents don’t hide us from the truth.” I whispered.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Well, yes, but your Grandpa is going to die, and they should have prepared you.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I was mad; I was upset; I was scared; and this woman who was supposed to comfort us was telling me that my Grandpa would die. I couldn’t control my tears anymore. I let go and ran from the room. I kept thinking: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">He won’t die! He cannot die! But he might have... he might now... </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I cried into my pillow, torn with a fear I had never known. I stayed in my bedroom until I heard the sound of a car driving up the driveway. It was too early; it was only ten o’clock. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> When my parents came in to the house, I was already by their side, having met them in the driveway. I was comforted by their presence. I kept saying "But you came home? But you're okay." For a moment I simply needed to know they were back. However, after that moment and when we hugged, I saw it in their eyes. I knew he was dead. I could feel it. They were home too early, their eyes too dim.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 2;"> Maybe now is an odd time to share this... Maybe Death isn't something to be mentioned around the </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">Holidays</span><span style="line-height: 2;">. But for those of us who have lost, though we may not speak of it, the holiday's bring Death closest to our </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">remembrance</span><span style="line-height: 2;">. These are the times we are sharply aware of the missing presence at the table, the missing personality, and the traditions that have changed.</span></span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-69959746254042493352015-11-22T15:48:00.000-05:002019-12-20T15:35:30.583-05:00Thanksgiving Giveaway<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/thanksgiving-giveaway">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I am very excited to announce that for the next week I will be hosting a Giveaway!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Why? Because I want to share some of the things I am thankful for, and express my appreciation for you, my readers! Having a blog is not that big of a deal. Anyone and everyone could potentially have one. However, the global interaction I have had makes it feel like something to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am amazed that people I have never met read these words. Last week I had over 100 views from the Ukraine alone. I know nobody from the Ukraine. Thus, that stat alone blows me away. It amazes me to see that not only have I had views from India, but that India comes second for amount of views. And not just a handful of views makes it second. But 100's do. I am continually amazed that I get views from places like France, Germany, Australia, China, Lebanon, Ireland, Spain, and Switzerland. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The fact that I have followers, and that others read what I say... that is something in my mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I want to thank you for that something! So, go to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gossamerlens/" target="_blank">my Instagram account @gossamerlens</a>, or <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/104888074079582763890" target="_blank">my GooglePlus account +TheDamsel</a> to participate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A winner will selected at random. They will be winning a shoutout on Instagram or GooglePlus (depending on which they posted), and a package including fall-ish cards, poem print, hot coco powder, a winter read, and an original piece of art done by a local artist I know! Unfortunately I cannot ship outside of the U.S. at this stage in life. However, don't let that deter you my global friends! You can still win a postcard and shoutout on the social media account of your choice, and then a second U.S. winner will be selected to win the package. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The official instructions for entering can be found, on the accounts mentioned, on the post connected to the photo below: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">~The Official Thanksgiving Giveaway Photo~</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdQ4wfrvkHEk-BjXaIphyphenhyphenlwSkLAve1kRI5Fr_OSJ1wsOxZNV-og8GZZX5xlezHtuQi76hLiFkq-W8ddnRsZrv-g-ATmFVJyfyagD2yZDrYeVMnJ7HlSvjzwSfjGpPyhr9Js7LeHmhp1g/s640/blogger-image-2057852284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdQ4wfrvkHEk-BjXaIphyphenhyphenlwSkLAve1kRI5Fr_OSJ1wsOxZNV-og8GZZX5xlezHtuQi76hLiFkq-W8ddnRsZrv-g-ATmFVJyfyagD2yZDrYeVMnJ7HlSvjzwSfjGpPyhr9Js7LeHmhp1g/s320/blogger-image-2057852284.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">P.S. A winner has been picked, and this giveaway has been wrapped up. @lovely.noelany.mehndi can be found on Instagram. She has inspired me with her lovely henna art, and sweet personality. I am so happy she won! I hope to further give thanks to other followers in the future. Thank you to all who participated in the giveaway. Plus a huge thanks to those who participate by reading, commenting, liking, and sharing my work! </span></span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-44367711890117257912015-11-14T15:15:00.001-05:002019-12-20T16:49:52.383-05:00Peace Flutters<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/peace-flutters">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwf3yBcUn5BP0anBTfgHJu9xCJNXNdjt4ATbo4_ZCLE3YqFG2b-n9RV73SudhM_CskDh3Cr4GBhWT3Wa-vFuoUr7ZsRl56A7bAUBXhdEubfTvr_wtfd9yiDfPxApkNAAj4jNGnU1i-zw/s640/blogger-image--621912276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwf3yBcUn5BP0anBTfgHJu9xCJNXNdjt4ATbo4_ZCLE3YqFG2b-n9RV73SudhM_CskDh3Cr4GBhWT3Wa-vFuoUr7ZsRl56A7bAUBXhdEubfTvr_wtfd9yiDfPxApkNAAj4jNGnU1i-zw/s320/blogger-image--621912276.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Peace Flutters</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">An illusion of obtainability</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just out of reach</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes brushing my finger</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But only in that fateful moment</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before something falls</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I drown inside of myself </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tears run</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wishing for something </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For peace</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 190 ~ 12/29/2013</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My soul reaches out to those in pain. Those who have lost family, friends, or acquaintances. Every turn of the earth clocks pain. Humans forget to have humanity. Pleasure is gained from hurt. Hatred is confused with religious zealousness. Fear of difference fuels violence. To those in France, I extend my heart to you. I mourn with you. To all the world, I cry for peace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> People can do such beautiful things. How strange it sometimes feels to see the other side of the coin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Why can we not have peace? Why can we not learn to respect differences and not hurt others because of them? When will we learn to treat others as ourselves? How can me learn to all love? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> No matter how much we wish... peace is an idea. It is never a true and global reality. The fact that so many strive for it is folly and beauty in itself. We reach out hoping fingers to those in pain, to those who hurt others, to those who love, and those who hate. We hope for the change that cannot be. Yet, by doing so we make our own reality that much better. We help those who we can touch. Peace and love, no matter how delusional it may seem, is something worth reaching for. For even though it may never rest upon the world all at once, we can create something worthwhile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I drown in myself, for I mourn with those who mourn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Let us mourn, hope and reach for peace... together. </span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-35854049562715330482015-11-11T09:57:00.004-05:002019-12-20T16:49:47.625-05:00Rain Pummels<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/rain-pumbles">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfb0wzOL6K15l1x1k56MmW28aS4_t2Aim0QljHt8WvD-AVPghvyGhDGKxMYPsSPM1VyGEItCgamcmB0IXh8B6jQuOxVzZmWSj7FpVDX8cyGgf3L8940a_9DsIBa_4k6gqRgYw-qadW3U/s640/blogger-image-194313217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-center: 1em; margin-center: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfb0wzOL6K15l1x1k56MmW28aS4_t2Aim0QljHt8WvD-AVPghvyGhDGKxMYPsSPM1VyGEItCgamcmB0IXh8B6jQuOxVzZmWSj7FpVDX8cyGgf3L8940a_9DsIBa_4k6gqRgYw-qadW3U/s320/blogger-image-194313217.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I lean into the wind</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Soaking in the feeling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I throw back my head</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And simply breath</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It pummels</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Heart beating in time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Close my eyes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feel the wind</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Supporting me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Keeping me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wind slanting rain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It goes with me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mouth open </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rain falls in</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feeling amazing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So sweet and clear</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A smile appears</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So I stand</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rain hits my head</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feeling like a hand</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stroking my pace</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I wish</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It would never end</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 21 ~ 5/3/2011</span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-46172212605136192942015-11-04T11:28:00.003-05:002019-12-20T16:49:42.714-05:00Feeling Neverland<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/feeling-neverland">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkVWpoF2GbkXBWeJvj1EiR7DA3Q0j08G4Wj0p6WOqCGHVEtRPjs9Yx11whAfyMMK8Bfwf8ReRlY4RiCGZTQdvfvKl7CIADiP93d82wtjRXkRkDsTW-bXPtXJt67zU8UHELQAvPs1cOww/s640/blogger-image-873531914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkVWpoF2GbkXBWeJvj1EiR7DA3Q0j08G4Wj0p6WOqCGHVEtRPjs9Yx11whAfyMMK8Bfwf8ReRlY4RiCGZTQdvfvKl7CIADiP93d82wtjRXkRkDsTW-bXPtXJt67zU8UHELQAvPs1cOww/s320/blogger-image-873531914.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 20px;" width="300" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Colleges have begun to flood my email and snail mail with information about their programs. They send me explanations of why their program is "just right" for me. Many of my good friends have already moved off to college, or to go on two year missions for our church. And as these two things align, I realize an ever growing fear. A fear of growing up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I don't mean I have a fear of growing old. Age is superfluous in my mind. I don't fear my face being lined with wrinkles, nor my hands becoming blemished and shaking. What I fear is having to leave my childhood home, leaving friends for college, and forgetting to enjoy simple things because of responsibility. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To fear. It hurts. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anxiety runs like veins </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like nerves </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Linked to brain </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pushing to be known </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Running on it's own</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Logic wishing to call</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But the feeling coursing </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love being twisted</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To fear and ache</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Happiness being turned</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To withered leaves</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ready to fall</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yearns and calls</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Into the chasm </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of faith</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And somewhere</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The thread is tied</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hold </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despite </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The pain of fear</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The pain of anxious everything</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 214 ~ 3/18/2015</span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I feel like Wendy Darling. One foot in the nursery, and one out the door. Stuck on the stories, playtime, and dreams of childhood. Yet, working on gaining a career, living on my own, and attempting to become a thoughtful adult. In some ways I am ready to move into the world. Still in others... I'm trying to find Neverland.</span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The draw of stuck time pulls, but the reality of moving through life appeals. I may feel Neverland wishing to be near. But to grow up, that shall be my awfully big adventure. </span></span>The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-10410013579244542392015-10-24T23:57:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:49:24.184-05:00Making a Difference ~ Guest Post<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/blog/search/make%20a%20difference">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How do you want to make a difference?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here is what _CarvedWords_ believes you should be working on to make a difference: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One way or another, we all wish that we're able to make a difference in this world even by a bit if it is possible to us. There are loads of everyday things I'd like to change if it were possible for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Education has limited itself to textbooks and syllabus. Students are only taught to solve the equations and write answers as they are expected in the examinations. Students can be seen getting good marks with grades higher then expected. They can answer all the questions which relate to the textbook. But what about what's outside? What's actually going on in the real world? The more they indulge themselves into the textbooks, the more their creativity gets limited. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Education is meant to make learners. Not to destroy the artist within them. We can spot students conquering heights of success, but with that seems to come a low creativity. At the end of the day, a person won't be proud of the position he has in a multinational company. All he would need is creativity to fill his life with enthusiasm and joy. Education should bring out an artist in a student, because every student has got one talent or another. Teachers should encourage the talent within them. Students should be taught to be passionate towards their goals. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I don't blame the system as a whole, neither do I have any offense with the knowledge and the quality of it the education is providing students. I just wanna say that even after these efforts there still remains a huge gap gap between education and creativity. We as a society have our responsibility towards making the change that is needed. We've got to do something to reduce this gap, we gotta build a strong bridge between both education and creativity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> If I could make a difference, I would like people to change their mindset towards education, making it free from all the chains it has been tied to. Creating a strong bond between education and creativity. Giving this world creative minds rather than those with high IQ's. Making this world colorful, making it a better place. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">~~~</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is how Words_In_Air thinks you can make a difference: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The language of love. Make wide spaces in your heart. Life gets so chocked up, kindness so lost, love slips by unseen. Smile at a stranger, help an old lady carry her shopping, offer to cook a meal for someone who's sick. Volunteer at your local church, hospice, old age home, or orphanage. Read to someone who's disabled. It's good to donate something to a worthy cause, but what people crave is human interaction. Look into their eyes, listen with attention to their stories. Take an interest in their personal lives. That smelly beggar down the road? He just wants kindness from you. Ask him his name, give him a compliment, bless him with a pair of shoes, or something to eat and drink. You don't have to strike a conversation with everyone you meet, but the next time you are waiting in line, greet someone and smile. Buy a small chocolate for the checkout girl and bless her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's the little things! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> If you bless others, you yourself will be blessed. </span>The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-83172328664552902302015-10-20T15:45:00.002-04:002019-12-20T16:49:17.550-05:00Make A Difference Contest & Giveaway<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/blog/search/make%20a%20difference">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's work together to celebrate National Make a Difference Day this weekend! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>TO ENTER: </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ~Write up to 150 words that you think can make a difference and are worth sharing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ~Choose if you want to submit via Instagram or GooglePlus. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If submitting via Instagram: Screenshot the official contest picture on my Instagram, tag </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">@gossamerlens in the caption, and use the hashtags #NationalMakeADifferenceDay & #GossamerLens</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> If submitting by GooglePlus: Screenshot the official contest picture on my GooglePlus, tag +TheDamsel in your post, and use the hashtags mentioned above. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ~Submit by: <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_101036347" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">12 Noon (EST)</span></span>, on <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_101036348" style="border: none !important; cursor: inherit !important; position: static !important; top: -2px; z-index: auto !important;"><span class="aQJ" style="border: none !important; cursor: inherit !important; position: static !important; top: 2px; z-index: auto !important;">October the 23rd</span></span>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>WINNINGS: </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ~I will be picking my favorite 2 entries (depending on the amount of participation) to share <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_101036349" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">this Saturday</span></span> on Instagram and GooglePlus. Also, the top entries will be posted here on my blog (link in bio).*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ~PLUS, every entrant will have their name put into a random drawing. A Happiness Quote Book, 1 Zentangle print, candy peach rings, and an Original Poem will be on the line. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>DEADLINE: </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_101036350" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;"> ~12 Noon (EST)</span></span>, on <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_101036351" style="border: none !important; cursor: inherit !important; position: static !important; top: -2px; z-index: auto !important;"><span class="aQJ" style="border: none !important; cursor: inherit !important; position: static !important; top: 2px; z-index: auto !important;">October the 23rd</span></span>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> *If you win publication, all rights will remain yours and you will be acknowledged on Instagram, GooglePlus, and my blog Gossamer Lens</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-72792488447962380882015-10-08T16:35:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:48:48.203-05:00Yellowing Pages<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/yellowing-pages">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Sitting here </span>writing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Wisps</span><span style="text-align: right;"> of image</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Shrouded</span><span style="text-align: right;"> shadow</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Of Imagined future</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Passed before me</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Danced like film</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Across my vision</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">The cold</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">It touched my shoulder</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">The sounds</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">They faded away</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Like yellowing pages</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">And I saw your face</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">As it could be</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Your arm over</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Around my shoulders</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">The whisper </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Of those words</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">The ones I love</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">To hear you say</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Then it crumpled </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Like falling dough</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">The bread </span>collapsed</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">And I was chewing </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">On nothing</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Poem 105 ~ 4/10/2013</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Memories, feelings, and thoughts diminish over time. What once was often changes.<span style="color: #0000ee;"> <span style="color: #0000ee;"></span></span>Sometimes, looking over older poems the emotions I wrote feel like a lie. As the writer, I know what each poem was born through. However, just because the adoration, pain, or perspective has passed as I've grown... that doesn't negate the validity of writing. Every poem has helped me realize, handle, and come to grips with what I have felt. At the moment of creation, each poem has filled it's purpose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I have grown, I have changed. I continue to feel, and I must accept the moving on that is life. You cannot cling on to who you have been, or who you were. Later it may feel like you chewed on nothing. But at the time, that "nothing" felt like something. Poetry is a way to express my now, and reflect on the past. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> "I am a slave to emotion... Pens... Keep working... Until I need you no more... which will be when I stop feeling" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="http://gossamerlense.blogspot.com/2015/03/pushed-into-flight.html" target="_blank">Poem 106 ~ 4/11/13 </a></span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-44158799963619864582015-09-17T17:03:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:48:42.277-05:00To Feel My Love<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/to-feel-my-love">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You say</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My cheeks</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Are beautiful</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These ones</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I contour</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And hate</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Trace my jawline</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With your kisses</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hold my hips</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Breathe my air</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hold me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like poetry</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like warmth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are the first</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can see forever</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despite the chasm</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of unknown</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm afraid of falling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But it almost</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Looks appealing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And my heart is breaking</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But my breath is leaving</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh Gosh</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These feels</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 234</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-20969955403364154812015-08-27T19:44:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:48:35.884-05:00Masks<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/masks">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I look in the mirror</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What do I see?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Myself as I am?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Me as I appear?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The outer shell, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That contains nothing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The inner core, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shining out?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I look into your eyes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What is there?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Muscle, tissue, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chemical reactions?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The soul staring out</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Through tinted panes?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Beauty pooling through</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet, still contained?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Maybe it is but a farce</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Faces may be just masks</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hiding our souls, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From us, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From them, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And those we love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What would people think </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If our souls lay unmasked</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Or perhaps I should ask</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What would we be?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 59 ~ 12/14/2012</span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-29202077640891854862015-08-02T13:46:00.002-04:002019-12-20T16:48:28.561-05:00What it is to be...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/what-it-is-to-be">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sinking in misery</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I curl around her</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Arm around waist</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Holding hands</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feet warming the other's </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We eat the silence</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Embracing essence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Crying in silence</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Loving her </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wishing for better</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For less heartbreak</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Greater kindness</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Breathing in hair</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The hair</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Smelling like mine</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our colors blending</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The eyes matching</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Noses just alike. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hearts different</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet seeing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just knowing </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't wish </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Her heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To understand</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The pain of mine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She and I </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Trusting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Her so sweet</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Already begging </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To understand</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pain shouldn't be </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't want tears</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For they shatter</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They speak of things</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She is to beautiful </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To see</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To feel</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To crack from </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To mend up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chin on shoulder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Knees tangled</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Listening to breath</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feeling her breath</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We inhale together</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I know </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What it is </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To be "sister"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPBuAUkwVwar50Tv9H81EWRg0T-w7UMLkzV3RxWwFhsdIqRX4wTiFLfV6vJY_AvzddzSMfNpNKaam7JaGQ9wwpK3gqHeCSe3pxZ0HdgEzoKRHsnv2aG1QML1ZvHXE-ByZs2sNIkC0GAI/s640/blogger-image-1639938352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPBuAUkwVwar50Tv9H81EWRg0T-w7UMLkzV3RxWwFhsdIqRX4wTiFLfV6vJY_AvzddzSMfNpNKaam7JaGQ9wwpK3gqHeCSe3pxZ0HdgEzoKRHsnv2aG1QML1ZvHXE-ByZs2sNIkC0GAI/s400/blogger-image-1639938352.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 224 ~ 4/5/2015</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-85663906968338660422015-07-29T20:00:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:48:18.235-05:00Heart in Hand<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/heart-in-hand">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqBuzxQSouThLO3A5G5txQE8dqpo4MgKycZH1GdLJdTNedsETilBzS2LIqMKcRlt7BB7X5-dNoLq16mvXdpdOEU6jj5oOWsTKonUjzSAdjyoGS7-tAqf_Nc5ejCrnnbe1kmsKdL-pDEU/s640/blogger-image--1877431115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="center: 1em; center: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqBuzxQSouThLO3A5G5txQE8dqpo4MgKycZH1GdLJdTNedsETilBzS2LIqMKcRlt7BB7X5-dNoLq16mvXdpdOEU6jj5oOWsTKonUjzSAdjyoGS7-tAqf_Nc5ejCrnnbe1kmsKdL-pDEU/s320/blogger-image--1877431115.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Talking with a friend, we found ourselves discussing the state of his relationship with his girlfriend. As we spoke he stated, "I just feel like I just keep giving my heart, but it isn't being accepted. Obviously it is, since she and I are dating... But it's like I am giving my everything, and they aren't appreciating it." The response I gave him was one that I have found all too often to be true. With friends and people I truly trust I have encountered the following.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> You extend your hands, offering up your heart, and the other person looks at it. They see it, and they say they like "that part" and "this part." You offer them the whole of your heart, and they simply like or love parts. So, they accept the whole thing. But they are truly only accepting certain parts and pieces of you. It hurts because you want them to take it... but really you want them to look at your offering and for them to look up into your eyes and say "I love it. I love all of it. Thank you!"</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> At the time I wasn't dating anyone, so I felt this conversation was more for my friend’s benefit. However, as I thought more about it I realized... I am both the offerer and the person who says, "I like this part." I offer my heart to myself, and my whole life I have never looked into my eyes. I have looked at the heart and told myself that I only like pieces. I like when I produce a good poem. I love when I manage to make someone smile. But, I have never looked over my whole heart, looked into myself, and said, "I realize your humanity, and that you are weak like all others are at times. Yet, I love you. I will love the whole of you."</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I am my own hurt. Everyday I cannot help but have my heart in sight of my own judgment. And every day I judge. I don't think I am the worst of people, but I sometimes say things to myself that I would never tell anyone else. Why? I can look at others and give them the benefit of the doubt. But I know myself, and thus I don't give myself that benefit. </span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Maybe the key, however, is to look at the whole of my heart and realize, I am trying. My hands offer up. I wish to accept. I want to love myself. For to love is to respect, trust, and be comfortable with. To feel at peace is a part of loving yourself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I offer myself my heart. In my hands it has lain for years. The faults and the strengths wishing to be equally understood and seen. And I see them. I see it, and I love it. I love all of it. I wish to help myself to become stronger. But, I will lead kindly and I will learn to love more fully. For peace in my own head and skin... that is the beginning of all I want. </span></span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-50338787342915013502015-06-22T19:29:00.005-04:002019-12-20T16:48:12.859-05:00Lost Love<div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/lost-love">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shadows move</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like misery</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Through fragrant winds</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Light shimmers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Passing mists</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of time and memory</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lightening struck</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Flashed like beauty</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But for a moment</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My ears</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They ring</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With echoes of thunder</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Still images dance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To syncopated time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And fate that pens can't change</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 75 ~ 2/18/2013</span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-66872676145244683322015-05-28T12:04:00.000-04:002019-12-20T16:48:02.393-05:00A Case for a Pseudonym <div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/a-case-for-a-pseudonym">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Lately I have been getting some feedback/questions about my use of a pseudonym. Some think that it is silly of me to hide my personal identity, and physical features and assure me that, "one of these days you will grow comfortable with yourself." Others simply want to see what I look like, and think it would be more personal to know my name, and to have my age posted somewhere. Some people have accepted this and others are a little bit more desirous for me to change my view on this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I would like to first attest to the realness of my blog. Everything I post is truly my thoughts. I am very comfortable with my self. I share my opinions, emotions, views, and (dare I say it) bits of my soul with you. I am perfectly honest. Nothing I post is "fake" or said to conjure up more views. Just because I go by "The Damsel" and I choose not to show my face, that doesn't mean I am hiding my mind or heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The main reason I chose to adopt a pseudonym and not present pictures of myself on my blog, or any other linked profiles, is because I wished to keep away distraction. There are two sides to this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The first being, that I don't want myself to leave off on writing. I don't want to slide into doing a "selfie blog" or something similar. Compliments are very appealing to me. I love to be called beautiful, or thought attractive. Sometimes (on personal social media accounts) I find myself caught up in how many "likes" a picture will gain. I occasionally catch myself thinking of how I could have received more "likes" if I had done something different with my hair, or the lighting. I think this is something others can maybe relate to as well. However, despite the naturalness of such feelings, I don't want to get caught in that kind of thinking. Not here, where my goal is to try and share my thoughts and ideas in a well spoken manner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This leads to the other side of distraction. I don't want my physical self to distract readers from the content I provide. When you come to read I want you to read my words and not to get caught up in physicality's. Gender is pronounced by my pen name. But I leave my race, exact age, hair color, height, and anything else physical up in the air. From my writing you may be able to gain a general sense of who is behind the words. However an exact portrait of myself, and my physical attributes are not presented. I want you, as my reader, to follow me because you thought I portrayed, or said something well. Not because I have a decently nice body; or because it is correct for those in my culture to think a certain way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> In essence, I chose pseudonymity because I don't want to feel the distraction of pride. I choose a pseudonym because I want you, the reader, to take in the words, thoughts, and ideas portrayed.</span>The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-86826927063845977412015-05-22T15:05:00.000-04:002019-12-20T16:47:55.703-05:00Appreciation Package Update<div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/appreciation-package">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Since hitting 200 followers, this blog has continued to increase in traffic. I have met some really cool people, and have received some lovely comments here, and on GooglePlus. I feel blessed that my voice can be heard, and that I can share bits and pieces of my thoughts, views, and world with all of you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A little bit ago I promised my 200th follower on GooglePlus what I dubbed an "Appreciation Package". I wanted to update everyone and let you know what that looked like.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Thus, here it is: </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtIOtHaCP8snPGPmJIck17W-XwoLHN9dDjuz9UMwGv5WPtTi8gQNTK8W4Z3ins3iaTzIX_phN7J0n4fUTN_jNEath91JMnue7UBIBt09-2eaoRUSypcJSTAkCg6PVjGi68AeaVqxqUas/s640/blogger-image--258062325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtIOtHaCP8snPGPmJIck17W-XwoLHN9dDjuz9UMwGv5WPtTi8gQNTK8W4Z3ins3iaTzIX_phN7J0n4fUTN_jNEath91JMnue7UBIBt09-2eaoRUSypcJSTAkCg6PVjGi68AeaVqxqUas/s400/blogger-image--258062325.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> To everyone, thank you! I'm so grateful for how far this has come. Via GooglePlus I have passed 280,000 views, nearly hitting 400 followers, and my posts keep increasing in the amount of +1's I receive. It blows me away that there are people who enjoy reading what I post, and who want to come back for more. Thank you so much for your support!</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-13885115905370720612015-05-18T16:35:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:47:49.675-05:00Inspiration<div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/inspiration">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh joy of joys! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Elation that I feel</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In my bosom burn</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why were you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So long in coming</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To this mistress of yours?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wanted to write</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For the world</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And now my joy! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can write any and all</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But why all this time?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I may be a child</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I am old in heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A fine polish emerging </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You look at my face</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You see youth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But eyes deceive like fools</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You touch my heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And you will find</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The age of time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So why did you wait?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why so long in coming</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I longed for you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But at last my joy </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are mine... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Though not for long</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My wisdom knows; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tomorrow I will yearn </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For the something I still lack</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet, there is peace in my soul </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And joy fills my heart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For now at least, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In this precious moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Poem 43 ~ 9/11/2012</span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-5921820641415987622015-05-10T15:07:00.001-04:002019-12-20T16:47:33.879-05:00A Mother<div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/a-mother">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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She drinks in the sobs<br />
Of her child.<br />
She comforts and consoles.<br />
She brushes away the tears,<br />
From a plump little face.<br />
She kisses away the hurt,<br />
And the sorrows of a second.<br />
She firmly tells the child, "No."<br />
Then she distracts with a toy.<br />
She softly sings her darling to sleep,<br />
On those fearsome nights<br />
When only a mother's voice<br />
Can comfort her child.<br />
She cleans a child's muddy clothes<br />
Without a word of thanks.<br />
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And as her child grows<br />
She consoles the hurt of minutes -<br />
The whiplash of a careless comment;<br />
The sting of not being able to go;<br />
The laughing faces of her child's peers.<br />
She leads her child to safer waters,<br />
Steering by example.<br />
And when her child is hurt,<br />
Truly hurt,<br />
She hurts as well;<br />
And her heart aches<br />
For the wants of her growing child.<br />
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And when her child leaves<br />
She gets the front row seat;<br />
To watch the play unfold.<br />
And if the play shows danger,<br />
For her grown up child,<br />
She simply slips back stage<br />
And helps her child iron<br />
The kinks out of their play.<br />
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And why does she do all this?<br />
She does it because she loves<br />
Her little child<br />
With the tenderness of a butterfly<br />
With the strength of an elephant<br />
And with the heart of a lion.<br />
What a wonderful love<br />
Is the love of a mother!<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Poem 7 ~ 2011</span></div>
The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423200441275561587.post-1314931117653990112015-05-07T22:51:00.003-04:002019-12-20T16:47:26.521-05:00What is Traditional Mexican Dance<h2>
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And, How to Make a Mexican Dance Skirt</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See <a href="https://www.gossamerlens.com/post/what-is-traditional-mexican-dance">gossamerlens.com</a> to stay up-to-date with the current blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Last school semester I had the opportunity to study Traditional Mexican food. This was a really great project, as it gave me an excuse to make a huge amount of Pozole, a traditional Mexican soup. Besides, helping me discover how utterly wrong Mexican food is portrayed in the states. If you would like to see the resulting project, <a href="http://gossamerlense.blogspot.com/2014/12/traditional-mexican-vs-tex-mex-cusine.html" target="_blank">click here</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This semester I had another opportunity to study a facet of a Spanish speaking culture. Yet again, I chose to go to Mexico. This time around I wanted to share something that is close to my heart, rather than my stomach. Originally, I really wanted to learn about traditional Mexican dance. However, as I came to read more I realized that it would be more interesting to discuss how traditional Mexican dance has changed over time, and what it is. Always wanting to get my hands into something I decided that I wanted to show you a bit of this through sewing a traditional Mexican dance skirt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Goods</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The <span id="goog_1232487780"></span><a href="http://confessionsofaslackermom.com/crafts-and-cutesy-crap/mexican-circle-skirt/" target="_blank">pattern</a><span id="goog_1232487781"></span> I used called for about 3 yards of fabric, as well as elastic. It was also intended for an 8 year old. For most of this project I used what sewing knowledge I have to create my own "traditional" skirt. But I did base it off of the linked pattern. If I have further tips outside of that pattern I will mark it as a "tip." Reading this before doing the pattern is probably the best way to go about it, if you wish to make the skirt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Tip: Standing at 5' 7" I decided to go with 5 yards of my base color (the white), 3 yards of each green and 1 1/2 yards of the teal. I also purchased over 200 yards of thread, and waistband elastic in case I wished to use it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Mexican Dance has undergone many changes. Some of which can be pinpointed with the Spaniard conquest. During this time new styles were merged, costumes and customs were altered, and some dances were banned or changed in order to appease the authorities. However, the dances that we are left with today do in fact contain much of the original aspects of these dances. The colorful costumes, traditional music, exaggerated headgear, and loud footwork can still be seen in many of the dances. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Two Inedible Doughnuts</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYH0-EQq5jh_tno_poBXPkvUNMf8j5200kAGhIF0KmIJi7vzWlU7AkH33b5aEY9nKf2kbWMf_GeHnzf1CtF4sCa6M5yebQ72RyVQjY0hXGHak3_y15_o1SAi8RGfQGYA2HJJ10yKiIpFg/s1600/IMG_2141_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYH0-EQq5jh_tno_poBXPkvUNMf8j5200kAGhIF0KmIJi7vzWlU7AkH33b5aEY9nKf2kbWMf_GeHnzf1CtF4sCa6M5yebQ72RyVQjY0hXGHak3_y15_o1SAi8RGfQGYA2HJJ10yKiIpFg/s320/IMG_2141_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 48px;"> Tip: Make your circle as long as the fabric will allow. Don't worry if you get less or more then the pattern says. You can work with it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Depending on the area you go to, Mexican dances will vary. Different regions can have a different style, music, costume, and meaning behind a dance.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Before the conquest, dance was taught by parents and considered an important facet of a child’s education.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Many of these various traditional dances were performed during religious functions only, and in order to appease or praise the Gods.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Layering Things</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMVP_GvCDcUJBENSPY8cWfjONOkdM-5KxmZzHqJiYMRMpk5V8ErdCWUjzkDjJBKSf5NEJuGurQFAzWa8u_5S9e5udO4r_rPsXBkKBNhWsMJpMNAfqXWURC_pdaY2YRov1ehkQufzPyzw/s1600/IMG_2142_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMVP_GvCDcUJBENSPY8cWfjONOkdM-5KxmZzHqJiYMRMpk5V8ErdCWUjzkDjJBKSf5NEJuGurQFAzWa8u_5S9e5udO4r_rPsXBkKBNhWsMJpMNAfqXWURC_pdaY2YRov1ehkQufzPyzw/s320/IMG_2142_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tip: In the original pattern it tells you to create one BIG circle with the two doughnuts. If you are making a smaller skirt where all you will be doing is this part, and perhaps a small trim then go ahead and do that. However, if you are making something longer you will want to double these. First off it will add modesty (especially if using lighter colors), and second of all it will make it so that the following levels aren't ridiculously hard to put on. You'll see what I mean. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> During the time of conquest the Mexican culture, was influenced greatly by the Christian values and beliefs that came along with the Spaniards.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> A part of this influence was an exaggeration of the need for modesty. Thus, creating a need for more fabric in most costumes. Fuller, less revealing skirts were included to obtain modesty. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Support- I Mean the Waist</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqY_5W88Q6yF7oKa7C6gb5FOvoUjrnqA90EQCgKqkKIg2Ch_6yXxaV1qLS30xKIxitojhZbLJGO-vxbKLol0TWV1gJUnzBNO7gcWSRHo3VF1zuWv2HIEOfaWC2oOpRdtlO5fezhsHwwFA/s1600/IMG_2143_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqY_5W88Q6yF7oKa7C6gb5FOvoUjrnqA90EQCgKqkKIg2Ch_6yXxaV1qLS30xKIxitojhZbLJGO-vxbKLol0TWV1gJUnzBNO7gcWSRHo3VF1zuWv2HIEOfaWC2oOpRdtlO5fezhsHwwFA/s320/IMG_2143_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tip: Because of the added fullness of the skirt the waist for such dancing skirts is really a means of support. I didn't use the elastic the pattern called for. This is because I simply marked the sash to exactly how much went around my waist, just resting above my hips, and then gathered the top of the skirt, as needed, to fit my waist. If you have a harder time tailoring to fit, go with the elastic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Adding Color</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pxmTRAxDn9fQL_YWj3bPUZgovikoNKSCMlgIhCC5Jgx13yGmB8d-Uk6ZAxacW271v6RTDpxCkqY7FWxOlPZX3URh0shzepB3iCSuIejaHXeTwk7cX-pcVgPGTV_K_Bzv_Yx2TNs_EPM/s1600/IMG_2151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pxmTRAxDn9fQL_YWj3bPUZgovikoNKSCMlgIhCC5Jgx13yGmB8d-Uk6ZAxacW271v6RTDpxCkqY7FWxOlPZX3URh0shzepB3iCSuIejaHXeTwk7cX-pcVgPGTV_K_Bzv_Yx2TNs_EPM/s320/IMG_2151.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 48px;"> Tip: Make sure that this strip is longer then the circumference of your original circle. My original circle had a circumference of around 2 1/2 yards. So I went with making the teal into a 4 yards long and 5 inch wide strip. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Expression was something that was greatly influenced by the Spanish conquest. <span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Two of the more well know dances are the fandango, and seguidilla, which reached a peak of popularity in the 18</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.5in;">th</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> century.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Each dance impacted by a strict social code which prevented dance partners touching each other.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Throughout the dance, partners traditionally remain around 2 feet away from each other as they go through the dance.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">In part, due to this social code facial expression, eye contact, and expressive gestures became an important part of these, and many other dances.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Handkerchiefs, fans, and long full skirts helped to add to the expression of the dance as well.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">This combination of Spaniard social code, and indigenous expression combined for the bright colors, costuming, and dance steps we know today.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b> Gathering</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JvXkWjxw9rpBTn4UdoqxOOAOQUfCs8OuwwQljmJWkD8qAMcozeX66L9DAiiJjX63RIrGZK951BAwLxKSO0fl97n8GFADe6mfujGYTfoJwucn89yv8ez6DeJThdnar3J9oDZj4X_NEow/s1600/IMG_2159_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JvXkWjxw9rpBTn4UdoqxOOAOQUfCs8OuwwQljmJWkD8qAMcozeX66L9DAiiJjX63RIrGZK951BAwLxKSO0fl97n8GFADe6mfujGYTfoJwucn89yv8ez6DeJThdnar3J9oDZj4X_NEow/s200/IMG_2159_2.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblMMlbiM9KkWPKXmBP4Mf0wSvIrQMaZuWBp7Ab63xVXJjr45R90n2N69AHqjZSnuSF9eEp2YHm4quQ_gcTn9KvwhZf_QmIIF-_nPUWKa8X3aBmZu8AQdRIlJENmo7GyWXyFQDBobeQd4/s1600/IMG_2161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblMMlbiM9KkWPKXmBP4Mf0wSvIrQMaZuWBp7Ab63xVXJjr45R90n2N69AHqjZSnuSF9eEp2YHm4quQ_gcTn9KvwhZf_QmIIF-_nPUWKa8X3aBmZu8AQdRIlJENmo7GyWXyFQDBobeQd4/s200/IMG_2161.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGgfYW8UGIeczZ9fJvqsOMMfudX_vDiks9_yiapTh8kRdxPXY5tVuaY2Qt_psoktqZFbyR8c_E_k0CMdxi2eXW4h2Gu_cox9QR7W-e7mxbI9tdCrrLcJnJ-X17fMfeAsey4duuyy7FE0/s1600/IMG_2152_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGgfYW8UGIeczZ9fJvqsOMMfudX_vDiks9_yiapTh8kRdxPXY5tVuaY2Qt_psoktqZFbyR8c_E_k0CMdxi2eXW4h2Gu_cox9QR7W-e7mxbI9tdCrrLcJnJ-X17fMfeAsey4duuyy7FE0/s200/IMG_2152_2.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 48px;"> Tip: So far you should have the first two layers. Your base/white and your small strip/teal. For the light green I increased to 8 yards in length and 10 inches wide. This gives you a really nice effect when you gather it all, and helps give you the traditional looking "full skirt."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Like I have mentioned, many dances had to adapt in order to be in accordance with the ideologies and customs of the Christian Spaniards.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Some dances were banned at the time due to their sexual innuendos, explicit costumes, or rebellious undercurrent.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">When the era of conquest did end however, what we recognize as traditional Mexican and Spanish dance forms did continue to influence each other, and more fully merge.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">This continued merging being a result of many Spaniards permanently staying in Mexico after the conquest was over. Thus, such things that were influenced by the Spaniards continued to be influenced and stuck for all intents and purposes. The culture had already been changed, and there wasn't much of a slide back to older dance roots. Although, those who knew the older dances could again teach them.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Embelishing</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkOOwaEHHSNISekA3pK0UWYAOcR-bSPP_KU3ao_fNIzHsfYWW09l3M6tfFKTsupzjb8TO1i7BxVUzsszzGXcpIDcAs2KXV6qyCbovUcUeHPpWA1mG9IcyPJQViOXYjkhz7k-QklPegBU/s1600/IMG_2166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkOOwaEHHSNISekA3pK0UWYAOcR-bSPP_KU3ao_fNIzHsfYWW09l3M6tfFKTsupzjb8TO1i7BxVUzsszzGXcpIDcAs2KXV6qyCbovUcUeHPpWA1mG9IcyPJQViOXYjkhz7k-QklPegBU/s320/IMG_2166.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Tip: This is the last piece, so you will want to make sure that you hem the whole thing before you begin to gather it. For this piece, I made it 12 yards long and 10 inches wide (but after doing a double hem it was 8 inches wide).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Generally in traditional skirts there would be embroidery, and some symbolism or special meaning would be worked into the skirt. These skirts were considered pieces of art. As previously mentioned, the dances that would be preformed were ones that would be passed down generationally. Often times along with these dances the costuming would be passed down as well. Thus there was meaning held in every stitch, and it wasn't simply "another piece of clothing." Also, traditionally these dances were preformed for special occasions such as birthdays, weddings, religious affairs, and other life marking events. Thus, giving even more meaning to any symbolism embrodierd into the piece. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Making a Tent</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZHG6z7Uaf2OiG1_kEZz7U2aNSY4OvXDAuiV26i8fLFips7LBIMC3RIRf3IKwcGkFRPR0jt29jZvGTpmWmrhFjQX2NmnMbZpjk7pgUjHUfH3E2t2XgK6g4Ug8e0-8isiaSHYLzumHEpw/s1600/IMG_2171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZHG6z7Uaf2OiG1_kEZz7U2aNSY4OvXDAuiV26i8fLFips7LBIMC3RIRf3IKwcGkFRPR0jt29jZvGTpmWmrhFjQX2NmnMbZpjk7pgUjHUfH3E2t2XgK6g4Ug8e0-8isiaSHYLzumHEpw/s320/IMG_2171.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Tip: 12 yards is a lot of fabric. Do not panic! Just make sure you lay everything correctly so that your hem will end up on the side it should be on when your done. Trust me, it took me three tries to figure that out. Keep at it, and truly the yards upon yards will give you a beautiful and full skirt, with all of the twirling and swishing capabilities that it should have. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Mexican dances began long before the Spaniards came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, with their arrival they morphed and changed a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through out the years however some new dances have arisen. Amelia Herandez founded a school in 1958 to teach ballets that would celebrate traditional dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Herandez even choreographed over 30 ballets herself. Traditional dance has come to be known in more general terms now. It doesn't simple refer to the dances that native people in Mexico would have known. It also refers to those dances influenced by the Spanish, and even some dances that tie in these older dance forms but adding slight twists. "Traditional Mexican dance" has become, essentially, an umbrella term.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Here we Are </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgss7z35xiIBRtME3bz-whFqdPVsIuh3c_M48dp68dTDC6_eywyQra1m4oFCK8wRPu2QMIcTWasrxoXbijIbMBeemL0L2Ut6Ht17RIdhdMuZ_pB1YO8OZYNvYstuW8NDXzovdxn_q9qHnU/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgss7z35xiIBRtME3bz-whFqdPVsIuh3c_M48dp68dTDC6_eywyQra1m4oFCK8wRPu2QMIcTWasrxoXbijIbMBeemL0L2Ut6Ht17RIdhdMuZ_pB1YO8OZYNvYstuW8NDXzovdxn_q9qHnU/s320/Image.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Traditional Mexican dance has
changed over the years. Depending on the region you are in, different dances
are more prized then others.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also, region-to-region,
dances that are the “same” can be performed very differently due to the
culture, and history of an area. Different regions can also cling to dances that
may not be well known or traditional in other areas.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Overall this project was very interesting. I enjoyed the sewing and learning about the culture. At times it was a little overwhelming to work with so much fabric. However, it proved to be very much worth it.</span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Further Reading: </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.lasvegasnevada.gov/factsstatistics/history.htm" target="_blank">City of Las Vegas. "History (Official City of Las Vegas Web Site)." <i>History (Official City of Las Vegas Web Site). </i>City of Las Vegas, 2013. Web. 06 May 2015. </a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.buzzle.com/articles/mexican-dances.html" target="_blank">Dogra, Aastha.
"Mexican Dances." <i>Buzzle</i>. Buzzle.com, 14 Jan. 2013. Web. <o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.buzzle.com/articles/mexican-dances.html" target="_blank">12 Mar. 2015.<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://dance.lovetoknow.com/Traditional_Dances_of_Mexico" target="_blank">Hanson,
Rachel. "Traditional Dances of Mexico." <i>LoveToKnow</i>. Love to <o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://dance.lovetoknow.com/Traditional_Dances_of_Mexico" target="_blank">Know, n.d. Web. 14 Mar. 2015.<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1481999/Latin-American-dance/279310/Folk-and-popular-dances" target="_blank">Cashion, Susan
V. "Folk and Popular Dances." <i>Encyclopedia Britannica <o:p></o:p></i></a></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1481999/Latin-American-dance/279310/Folk-and-popular-dances" target="_blank">Online</a></span></i><span style="color: #262626; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1481999/Latin-American-dance/279310/Folk-and-popular-dances" target="_blank">.Encyclopedia Britannica, 4 Sept. 2013. Web. 14 Mar. 2015.</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #3f3f3f; font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://www.nps.gov/cham/learn/historyculture/ballet-folklorico-the-dances-of-mexico.htm" target="_blank">United States. National Park Service."Ballet Folklorico." National Parks Service. U.S. Departmentof the Interior, 19 Apr. 2015. Web. 21 Apr. 2015.</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Damselhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07190027122099932792noreply@blogger.com4