Every memory of lookin’ out the back door, I got the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor

So, most people know about St. Paul Connections. Since I'm going full IB the next two years, I have to get all of my art & tech credits as well as most of my elective credits outside of school. Last week and this week I'm taking a photography class at Concordia. I had never really thought about photography before this class, besides of course taking random photos with friends or of nature....or my cats. However, I'm really enjoying the class and am learning all types of stuff. I've even started planning/staging photos that I see clearly in my head. I'm thinking of writing poetry to correspond with some of the pictures I take. Hopefully I'll add some of my work soon, but I don't know. Anyway, I just wanted to say hey, and maybe someday soon I'll find enough time to write a decent length blog post. ;)
TTFN,
Bridget

Poetic Irony

So, today I was paging through my favorite volume of Emily Dickinson after taking a final, losing myself in her simple artistry. Anyway, as I was reading, I noticed myself sub-consciously looking for the meaning of the poem and the purpose for which it was written. In the very back of my mind, the part that hasn't quite shut down for the summer yet, I was composing outlines for mini-commentaries. Now, I dislike commentaries mostly because there were so many of them this year; although poetry commentaries are almost always easier because they have much more symbolism and double meanings and such. I just find it rather ironic that no matter how much I dislike actually sitting down to piece them together, apparently my brain has taken the process and made it a reflexive reaction to the trickle of verse across an eager palette. So, I guess I'd have to say "Kudos, Ms. Peifer" for drilling this skill into our stubborn, unwilling membranes; I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to lose it anytime soon.
Slanche!
Bridget

You Raise Me Up So I Can Stand On Mountains

Dealing with death is hard enough, but waiting as someone labors through their last days is so much more excruciating. As the long days draw onward, you simply wish that their suffering end and that they be ushered into the ethreal embrace of the angels. The unknown is terrinble; not knowing whether they're going to last the night,  or whether the next time you check their CaringBridge you're going to find a post that starts out "It is with heavy heart.....".
One of my mentors and dear friends is breathing in her last sunsets, whispering her last words to the beckoning stars. I can't believe that she's actually going to leave this world, even though I haven't seen her in two years. When I was in elementary school and junior high, she was one of the brightest of my guiding lights. She helped me through the lingering depression after my grandma died, encouraged me to accept my grandpa's new wife, and comforted me when life just seemed to hard to go on. One of the kindest, wisest women I know, she never let me be pitiful and childesh; when I was being a baby, she let me know, but then laughed and suggested we play UNO. She helped me in so many ways, I know I'll never be able to repay her. All I can hope to do is to share the kindeness, love, and understanding that she bestowed on me with the rest of the world.
♥ u MG!!
Slán go fóill,
Bridget