How to choose a college
Deciding to go to college is easier than choosing which college to go to. If you’re feeling stumped, check out how you can make a decision that is right for you.
Author: Mrs. Nayla
A Philosophy
I was a child of earth, so I was small. I buried my toes in her balmy debris of stone and quartz; bereft of what has left. Apollo, lounging in his royal throne, blinded my sight with sweet sharp arrows. Yet, neither small nor unavailing, a child’s soul is a universe. We can fly behind closed eyes. Although one might never really know, the Olympians could have once been made of flesh and bone. We don’t need Aeolus by our side; we can flow wherever the Anemoi go. How eccentric that beyond this spherical wall there is both the mystery and the secret of time and riches. Levitate. Drink the neon elixirs that the majestic universe has poured since they cause no harm; and accept vitality and charm. Strip you clothes and deliver yourself naked just the way it wants you; it has no eyes. While mothers are meant to let go, trust we will the bohemian drunk to take us to places we have never seen before. Immortal is the boundless cosmic child. –Nayla …
Do It For the Process
I was talking with one of my most encouraging friends, about my creative process and how it has been a challenge for me to really push myself and try new things. I feel like I have so many people depending on me, and while I’m thankful for each and every one of them, it is hard to push my own boundaries when there’s a very big possibility for failure. But why is failure ugly? If failing results in growth then why am I shamed of it? I remember visiting the Columbus Museum of Art a few years ago and seeing works from Rembrandt’s sketchbook that I’m pretty darn sure he did not think they were his best pieces – certainly not finished or refined! But the process, the way the ideas unfolded so organically in those drawings, was just as beautiful as the masterpieces hanging a few feet away. And, as a young artist, struggling with my own book of messy scribbles, they were WAY more encouraging. While I am a million paintings away from Rembrandt’s skill,…
Oh the things that you will find…
I find it amazing how my little family and I own such curious little objects. In my home I try hard to keep things organized, but let’s face it, it doesn’t stay that way for long. One of the things I like doing with my camera is gathering things that I find lying around and just laying them on my white parsons desk. It might be a childhood thing, but it reminds me of I Spy books. I used to love checking them out from the library at my elementary school. For the sake of today’s post on I Spy inspired photography, I encourage you to check out the books if you have never heard of them! If you have little children or even teenagers, invite them to sit down with you and play a game of I Spy. I used to love doing it with my friends at school and I’m about to purchase some for my kids as well. I think it is a great idea for bonding and appreciating literature. Who said …
Caffeine
A poem for all moms on the run.
Overcoming Impostor Syndrome as a Photographer
With the overwhelming amount of photographs now available on the internet and on other mass media networks, anyone could feel like all poses and photography styles have already been thought of. The truth is that even though we might feel this way, we shouldn’t let our fear of not being original get in the way of letting us capture faces and events that carry meaningful stories.
Water Lily
Murky water housing a seed Alone without structure, without foundation. It’s Charles Darwin’s theory Only selected survive, yet Even those birthed in darkness Beautiful. Floating toward the glistening heavens, Out of instinct to survive. ——————————————————————- Swaying with the water in abyss Reaching, reaching, reaching, rapidly rising. Lukewarm atmosphere and newfound happiness Blooming misty pieces of pearlescent petals Caressing the brim of dark waters And for the first time Clandestine… breathe. –Nayla Carrasco
The First Encounter
When the beat of the Soul but not the heart palpitated to the rhythm Away from all that was known. Silent, shimmering, slow-motion surroundings, That was the first encounter. ——————————————————————————– To recognize a face never met, To remember a name never heard. It must have been fate Or it could have been doomsday That was the first encounter. –Nayla Carrasco
An Introduction to Poshmark
Make extra income by selling things you don’t wear anymore!
Mrs. Nayla 