Author: Emerson Hultman

Lately, I’ve been particularly infatuated with lyrics in songs. And in every single song without fail, there will be a lyric that I always look forward to. It gets to the point where if I miss it, I just have to rewind so I can hear it.

“Crush Culture” by Conan Gray

“No one cares if you two made out

I’m sick of the kissing cult“

I think this lyric is overall just interesting. The whole song is describing how  Conan is sick of crushes, and everything that comes along with them, specifically with other people. Describing it as the “kissing cult”  is so funny to me, but oddly accurate. It just sums it up perfectly, and I commend Conan for thinking of this lyric. (This music is also super duper aesthetic, and I’d give it a watch if you decide to listen to this song.)

“Banana Bread” by Cavetown

“Banana bread before I go to the bed will put the bees to sleep

Otherwise they’d buzz and sting my lungs all night inside of me.”

I honestly don’t know why I like this lyric so much. I think it’s just my love for banana bread that’s calling me. Good song though, would give a listen if I were you.

“Peach Scone” by Hobo Johnson

“She’s a peach…

Scone.

She’s a peach scone.”

This song plays around with lyrics and poetry/rap like lyrics that are soooo cool. This lyric makes a lot more sense if you listen to the song, so obviously you should, but anyways. Hobo Johnson  has an interesting style that isn’t exactly rap but it isn’t spoken word?

“Death & Taxes” by Daniel Caesar

“Surely my sins have found me out

God rest my soul, but show me out.”

The religious aspects of this song are memorizing. They’re so dreamy but they speak wonders to Daniel Caesar views religion, and it’s really cool to hear that. The melody is gorgeous as well, making the song wrap up nicely.

“Mona Lisa” by Monte Booker

“I’m on a first-name basis with danger

It’s stranger when I’m there

I’ll let the narrator tell you how it goes.“

I enjoy the idea that we each have a narrator for our life? And while this isn’t the exact purpose of this lyric, it’s cool to think about how our narration would go if someone else was doing it. Like if we were all characters in our own book. How n e a t.

Anyways! That’s that! I didn’t wanna bog y’all down with TOO many song if you get what I’m sayin’.Hope you enjoyed some lyrics!! And my perspective on them :))))))))

So we had to write a “I believe” lil blurb about something we believe in. We are now (by the time this is posted I’ll be finished) turning into a play. This whole thing was kind of based on my grandparent’s and their love, because it honestly was something I look up to a lot. It showed me that love doesn’t have to be this cliche thing and love doesn’t have to be romantically or even for people at all.  And that’s what the play is about.  Anyways, here is this statement. Here’s my TedTalk :))))))))

///

I believe that physical closeness does not define love. People madly in love can simply co-exist. Being attached at the hip, does not equal deepness of said relationships. Stable relationships can be rooted in mutual understanding, maturity, shared beliefs and passions, etc. A couple can sleep in separate beds and lead separate lives, and still come together at the end of the day and love each other. This is not to say though, that relationships should be without affection. It can be as small as a kiss on the head before bed. I also believe that to show love, one doesn’t need grand gestures. It can range from watching their favorite television shows to remembering how they like a certain food prepared. “I love you” is not a word; it’s an action. Love shifting from something new and exciting to domestic life doesn’t mean it’s weathered either. Growing older just means you have to shift the focus on love and how it is expressed. There is a fine line between a love-less marriage, and a matured one. It takes a self-aware couple to realize this. Marriages fail because of many different reasons. The two participants need to know the difference between love and infatuation. To love someone, you don’t always have to like them. You stick with them through thick and thin because you care for them, and you want it to work. It’s a team effort. Infatuation is quick and short lived. Some people spend their whole lifetimes trying to discern the difference between the two. Some spend their entire marriage not knowing. Sometimes it’s not that clear. To love someone truly, you try your hardest to make it work. Through anything and everything. If you give up, you don’t truly love them. If it fails despite all your efforts, you still love them. Sometimes it’s the right person wrong time. Sometimes it’s the right time wrong person. Sometimes it’s the wrong time wrong person. But each person is a lesson. Lesson of self-worth. A teaching moment of how to treat others. Maybe even just for fun. For comfort. Love doesn’t even have to be for a person. It can be for a place, a thing, an animal, anything. You can be heartbroken from things other than people. Your favorite restaurant gets shut down; they no longer make your favorite night time snack; you had to put your dog down. Those are all heartbreaking things. Love can be with a person but doesn’t have to. It’s amazing to get to spend your life with a companion, but it can still be filled with love and fulfillment in the absence of that. Love is something that should be cherished.  I believe that love is everywhere, and that is defined and not defined by a myriad of different things. Love is ever changing and ever personalized to each individual person and experience.

At three years old, love came to me in the form of a security blanket; Bun Bun I named it, always carrying its bunny ears in my tiny balled up fists. It had my name monogrammed on its heart, or at least that’s what my mother told me. My eyes that were just a little too big for my face couldn’t formulate letters into words yet, so I just took my mother’s word as truth because I loved it. That wouldn’t be the last time I did that; blindly put faith in things or people I loved. Love left when my red-roofed house ignited with one swift lightning bolt. All that was found in the rubble was my sister’s copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and a severely charred copy of my mom’s favorite Christmas movie.  My name was lost within licks of flames, crushed into nothing but ashes. Three year olds rebound quickly, therefore my first heartbreak didn’t sting for too long.

Love visited again at five, not too long after the last. I had a pink tut that I was given. It was the embodiment of me in a piece of clothing; pink, sparkly, made of tulle. I wore it every day; to school, birthday parties, outside with friends. So many holes were shred into it, but I wore it despite that, despite the flaws. My mom couldn’t stand to see me adorning something so tattered. She threw it away. That heartbreak hurt a little more, but again, nothing unbearable. I got new clothes, and my world was right again.

Infatuation took over love’s place for a while. My attention was focused on small things and people for years and years; boys I was convinced I’d marry in the fourth grade, fads I fell obsessed with, exotic animals I was destined to own. The typical trials and tribulations of elementary school. These were all just quick bursts of what I assumed was love, but wasn’t mature enough to realize wasn’t. I never wish I realized then it wasn’t love though. Having a sense of false “love” when  you’re young is better than nothing. There’s things to look forward to and excited for. Being self-aware at the ripe age of ten doesn’t bode well, especially when your near future of high school is overflowing with that as well. Ignorance is bliss. Being in love and ignorant is a luxury. You only get that a handful of times.

// woah the end! haha I’m for sure NOT done with that, but that’s what I’ve conjured up so far. Hope you guys eNjOyEd!!!!

The way I’ve imagined the way Generation Z and Social Media (all aspects of it.) is like that of a bad romance (cue Lady Gaga.)

You have this couple, they meet, start to learn a little bit about each other day by day, and then suddenly they are completely and utterly infatuated with the other. Sometimes, and definitely in this case, they become co-dependent. This can prove to be toxic, and harmful. Social media serves as the stereotypical “bad boyfriend.”

While some not see it as a luxury, Millennials got to grow up for a period of time without technology being the fore front of everything in their world. Advanced technology of smartphones, easy-access computers, etc. was still new and developing.

Gen Z’ers were born into a society where not only had technology advancements had soared, but they were starting to become an integral part of everyday life.

Some were useful. Hassle-free heart and breathing monitors to make sure cradle deaths were avoided; high-tech security systems to keep the household safe; even collar activated pet doors were invented so that the family life would remain undisturbed.

With these inventions, came new problems. Smart devices such as phones, tablets, and laptops brought social media. Social Media is a wonderful thing that allows communication be widespread. At a touch of a button people can catch up with their friends, let the country know of breaking news, and just waste time during dull moments. However, social media brings along with it a plethora of negatives.

The sweet honeymoon phase turns into a violent, toxic relationship. What used to be the positives, morph into an ugly monster.

Now instead of going to school and getting bullied, you can now get beaten down emotionally from home! Used to, there would be a safe space to hide yourself from the hate, but Generation Z is safe no more.

Unrealistic body images have also been set into the Gen Z’ers since birth. Images of extremely edited girls have been plastered on everything; billboards, benches, trucks, and every social media app imaginable. It’s easy to drown in it.

But even with those things, Gen Z still loves Social Media. They are totally and utterly in love with it despite it being horrible to them. Just like a bad relationship. Technology is only advancing. What to come for the next generation is ever scarier.

1. ladybugs are lucky

both of my grandparents preached this, even my grumpy ole’ grandfather. Anytime i’d bring back a ladybug, they’d preach about how it was gonna be my lucky day. i can’t tell if they actually believed it or just said it for us to believe in something. when my grandfather passed in 2016, my grandmother’s house became infested with ladybugs. she swore up and down is was barry talking to her from beyond the grave.

2. watermelon is a dessert

when i was younger a detested eating anything remotely healthy. i was on a strict diet of little debbie cakes and mac n cheese. i never ever strayed. that’s why i never understood why my grandparents got so excited to finish dinner so they could dig into the big plate of watermelon sitting in the middle of the table. to them it was dessert. well, first dessert. that didn’t stop us from digging into ice cream sundaes and drumsticks (the lil ice cream cone with the chocolate at the bottom, not actual chicken) after dinner was over.

3. cereal can talk

this one may stick out, and i’ve kind of had to realize that this might be an only my family thing. lemme explain. rice krispy cereal pops when you pour milk over it. so, when i was younger, and would wake up for breakfast, i’d have a generous bowl of that. my grandma would always tell me it was whispering to me. i’ve never really understand what it was saying though.

4. antiques are something to be treasured

so at my grandparents house we have the living room and then the den. when i was little it always made me so mad, because i’d say it’s in the living room, but the actual “living space.” was the den. the living room was only for antiques to be displayed, nice dinners (i.e. thanksgiving, christmas, etc.), and for the christmas tree to be kept. both of my grandparents enjoyed hunting for antiques, placing them in the perfect spot, and then keeping them spic and span. it broke my heart when my grandmother took some of them down since my grandfather died. she said it was too much work. yes it is, but it wasn’t too much work before. i guess heartbreak makes everything harder.

5. surprises don’t have to be big

i vividly remember getting four shots in the same day when i was four years old. i was wearing my “fancy” dress, and my grandmother had taken me to the appointment. she said to me “now emme if you don’t cry, you get four surprises.” i you know i sure as heck didn’t cry. so we first went to McDonald’s, and i gobbled down a happy meal, content that that was my first surprise. the next three, were that i could pick out any three things at the dollar store. it seriously was the best day ever, and they weren’t the huge extravagant things. i was so happy, and it shows that you don’t have to go above and beyond for people to be appreciated.

overall, i love my grandparents, and they’ve taught me a plethora life lessons i’ve kept with me.

we start with learning how to function as a normal human being.

our body takes care of the basics; eating, sleeping, breathing, etc., but at sometime we start to hit milestones. rolling over, walking, talking, going to school. From the moment we are born we are taught how to live as a person.

my question is, what makes someone’s personality different from that of their friends.

obviously there’s up bringing. something that differentiates me from everyone else is the people and environment that was around me. I’m a collage of my family’s and friends traits. i’m also a big believer that while those things can determine a person’s personality and mindset, it isn’t always the determining factor. some serial killers were brought up in nice, respectable households. and some people grow up in a horrendous house and town, and turn out to be the sweetest people i’ve ever gotten the pleasure to meet. not to say this has to be the case with everyone.

genetics also apparently factor in. family traits can carry on, same with mental illness, but that doesn’t mean it accounts for everything. Even identical twins only have up to about 50% of the same personality traits/interests.

the last factor of sorts ties in with environment, but it’s life events. positive or negative events can sway a person and how they act. anything from a transcending trip to a traumatic memory trigger the shift.

all this said, sometimes a bad person is just destined to be a bad person. same with good people. people can change, yes, but they have to make that conscious effort. maybe it is out of their control. who knows.

nature vs. nurture is a whole debate.

personally i can’t choose to believe either is the right answer. all of these factors seem to clash too much for either to the one thing. i wish it was that simple. to have a kid, raise them “right”, give them my whole heart, and them go out into the world and be the best person ever. sadly, that’s just a risk you have to take. have a kid, do the best you can, and hope for the best. i think that’s one of the most terrifying parts about the whole building a family thing. other than messing a kid up. even if you they turn out to be the next notorious serial killer, you have that unconditional love. or at least most parents do. that’s also scary. to love someone so much. not ready for that no sir.

i’ll just stick to raising my sweet pup, being able to sleep well at night knowing i can’t mess up bringing a dog into this world.

First, you must get married. Find a man that you half-way love, and convince yourself he is the love of your life. Ignore his faults, and tell your parents he is the one.  Craft a fairy tale in which he is your prince, and he’s found your glass slipper in a hole-in-the-wall sports bar. Throw away all your convictions of love, because this illusion will be your reality of love. Know him for five months, and talk about the subject of marriage. Get no engagement ring. Decide you’re both too mature for that. Plan a wedding for the somewhere tropical, maybe Key West, but get eloped in Vegas. Be a walking stereotype for twenty year olds in love. Move from his hometown to New York. Be young, and in love, and New York. He pesters you to have children. You’re not sure it’s what you want. Spend a couple more years, just the two of you and your career. Write love letters to him, telling him he’s different from all the other football players you’ve dated. There’s something about him you can’t put your finger on. Or maybe you just can’t capture it within the 8 x 5 letter paper.

Tell him you’re pregnant. Watch as his co-workers pat him on the back, and say “Congrats man!” Spend the next couple of months watching your belly grow. You tell him you’re going to go back to work a week after she’s born. He complies. Notice he becomes less frustrated, and pray that it stays that way. Give birth to your baby girl, and fall in love for the second time. You look past her crooked nose and smushed face. You see an angel. Interview nannies and realize you cannot leave your angel alone. You never go back to work. Beg him for more children.

Get pregnant for the second time years later. His anger starts up again. Hear his yelling, and pray again. Pray. Pray. Pray. You still believe in God because your child is proof from heaven. Have your second child, a boy, and love deeply. Convince your husband to move back to his home town, to be closer to his parents. Your husband’s anger will burn bright. Try your best to shield your children from it.

It escalates from throwing words to throwing objects. T.V. remotes, shoes, anything. Argue with him about what kind of dog food to buy, if your boy should play sports (he doesn’t want to, much to his dad’s dismay), where all your saving’s money is going to, etc. He will deny that he is in the wrong about anything. Watch as one cup of wine turns into ten shots of vodka. One night, at three a.m. he will stumble in from bar hopping. Somehow, in his haze, he will tear the fan in the master bedroom down to the floor. He will try and salvage the ceiling fan drunkenly.

Wake up the next morning, call the handyman, and pretend like nothing happened. You will pretend so hard that you will forget what’s real and what’s not. When you’ve had too much, you’ll bring up the idea of couple’s therapy, and he will pretend right back at you. This is when you’ll realize your marriage is a lie. A childish fairy-tale, similar to when you little girls plays make believe. Contemplate leaving for the first time. You’re not sure where, but it doesn’t matter to you.

Contemplate leaving for the second time and decide you want to move back with your parents.

When you contemplate leaving for the third time, you call your mom, and tell her you’re coming home. Tell your husband later that night that you’re leaving. He gets angry again, screaming about how life is unfair and all the reasons you aren’t allowed to. Just tell him the way it is, and that you’re leaving come next week. He doesn’t seem to believe you until he comes home a week later and the only trace of his family is a forgotten baby shoe.

Leaving your marriage is the exact way you save it.

seraphims, close to god. full of love, burning bright. an icarus that gets too close to the sun, but never get’s burned. maybe its because they are the sun. maybe its just because they’re an angel. four faced, snakes. trustworthy to god, but not to common folk. beware of the seraphims. more than faces than geminis and bright with love. gods mightiest.

cherubim, record keepers. full of knowledge from the heavens. gods intern. sent to get coffee, refill water coolers, and to exile adam and eve from eden. cat-like, but closer to humans than their predecessors. neanderthals to humans, seraphims to cherubim. not always holy, lucifer was of the cherubim. not all are as they seem. god cannot always tell the divine from the devilish.

thrones, carriers of god. meant to hold up the mightiest man himself, using their hand-crafted muscles to raise his throne above their head. degraded to the name of the thing that are presiding over. high-ranking angel, but at what cost? chariot of god or one-trick pony? depends on who is looking. lower-class would kill over the position, but it gets tiring to hold for eternity. even angels are sinful. lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride.

dominions, pretty boys. faux humans with wings like the big-shots. a higher, lesser angel. presides over those below them, despite being of low-rank themselves. decoration to show that heaven can be beautiful too.

virtues, poster boys for heaven. lower class, but all the fame. answering prayers, taking names. miracle arranger, only loves the faithful. link between mortals and humans. other worldy, but still somehow real. real just like you and me. except i can’t seem to make the blind see or mend broken hearts. id be pretty well off if i could.

power of authorities, warriors of a land unknown. fighting demons, taking names, and also somehow managing the entire universe. i thought that was god’s job? soldiers just like ours, although ive never seen a sergeant with wings. said to be the most loyal of all, but lucifer had high hopes for him too.

principalities of rulers, more protectors of the people. humans cant seem to take care of themselves. fickle, fragile creatures in need of a hero. principalities are over a group. cliques are only for high school, heaven has them too. make sure youre in one or else these angels will not answer calls to rescue.

archangels, one and seven. michael, army leader. defeater of lucifer, whos keeping score? raphael, harmony healer. emotional health is equal to physical health. healer of all, heavenly. gabriel, messenger and teacher. writers alike are touched with her writing talents. jophiel, beauty is in the eye of the beholder with her. shields artists and their craft. uplifting like bergamot. ariel, guardian of all the sebastians and flounders alike. fauna is her domain. azrael, angel of death. end of road greeter. chamuel, defender against woes and anxieties. generation zs archangel.

angels, pawns of heaven. tend personally to humans. hallmark greeting card, generic heaven resident. lowest rank, but all the fame. heavens corrupt hierarchy.

my grandmother

during my parents broken

divorce would soothe us

(every day)

broken with her

southern accent,

telling us that it’ll all

be okay.

my sister

had to stand broken up

and fight for us

broken

fight for our

broken future

my brother

broken

hoped that he would keep his father

packed in a house full of

broken girls

mom broken

dad broken

stopped fighting

too much

broken to deal with

too much to keep holding

on.

i was too broken young

to understand

too young

too dumb

too b

r

o

k

e

n