Personal Antidotes

me me all about me!! (mostly)

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I want I want I want

A piece written in frustration for what is and hope for what can be

Did you know that every resident in San Francisco is at most a 10-minute walk from a park? It’s an interesting brag. I envision something much greater for the city. In my dream world where there is no walk to a park, but rather a transformation of our walks into parks. We transform what we have created, the streets we drive, and the paths we walk. It is no longer a collision of green and grey but rather a melding of the two into something different, something much grander...

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Ode to Oregon

An exerp written by my dear friend

Ever since I can remember, I have always felt a longing to witness the continual birth and death of nature. Summer turning to Fall, Fall to Winter, Winter to Spring and Spring back to Summer; a spellbound metamorphosis of the Earth’s natural environment...

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Set fire to your neighbor's yard

A call to action (just kidding)

Lawns are a plague. These perfectly manicured rectangles of grass are in just about every suburb in america. They say “hey! Look at me! I can afford a yard to water and mow! This is my own little park!” Now, this may be a stretch, but could lawns also hint at the elimination of third spaces in our society? Home gym, home movie theater, home bar, and home park? All ways for us to curl up in our nests, shut the windows, and tune out the world. But lets circle back...

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I'm strange, you're strange, we're all strange

why do I do what I do? When did this all begin?

I attended a strange school in the mountains with strange classes and strange assignments. I only now understand the strangeness of it all after trading stories with classmates throughout college who flat out tell me- that is very strange...

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Back to the beginning

Everything is not as it was

Moving back to my childhood home after four years away at school, I have been recharmed by my backyard...

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Dont worry... be happy

A brief dissection of magic

My grandma’s backyard is one of every suburban child’s dreams. A small pond with minnows that, come spring, become a chorus of croaks in the night. Coin sized frogs making the incredulous journey from their sanctuary of lilypads to the trickling creek just beyond the fence at the bottom of the property...

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