A metaphor for life.

I can remember it clearly as if it were yesterday and not a day earlier. The scent of chlorine filling my nostrils, the hubbub of laughter and conversation throughout the park. Yet a tension filled the air. A dark dragon rearing its monstrous head, refusing to back down to the proverbial sword wielding hero. It was not a dragon I faced, but instead a troop of villainous competitors wearing speedos and wielding goggles. A nefarious group for sure, but there they stood, lean and muscled, staring me down, staring each other down, sizing each other up wondering who would come out on top. I let them play their little mind games, it is no concern of mine whether or not they consider me a threat, I have the experience, I have the training, and I will not be defeated by thugs in speedos. The competitiveness inside me refuses to accept anything less then excellence. I will not fail, I cannot fail, I refuse to fail.

At that moment the announcer's voice took me back to reality "Swimmers, to your blocks!" commanded the nasaly voice the all announcers seemed to possess. I was in no hurry to get my goggles on, they could wait for me, I was in no rush to deliver the debacle that would be my competitive fury. Securing my goggles to my face I took my position on top of the diving block, first looking left to glance at the man beside me, then to the right to confirm the swimmer on the other side was just as ready as I. "Swimmers take your mark!", it was the nasaly voice again, probably a woman, I couldn't tell but women are always so demanding. CRACK! went the starting gun, and then I hit the water like an arrow.

Looking back I realize now that the State Swim Meet was more than a contest between swimmers, it is a metaphor for my success. I will not back down, I will not lose, and definately not against goggle wearing speedo enthusiasts!

I have been through a lot in this life of mine, not all of it taking place in Carhartts. I have learned to accept various life lessons I have discovered through moral or immoral methods. Trauma has also impacted me pretty hard and with that I have turned to writing, and most of all my poetry to help me get it out instead of letting it build. So with that I will post some of my own work so you may further understand the feelings I have felt, or what maybe even everyone else has felt at some point in their lives.

"Begin War..."

The stench of a thousand corpses floods my nostrils thrusting the day's intake adn whatever was left in the pit of my stomach through the cracks of my teeth. Choking and pleading with my throat to swallow it back down, my teeth fail and release the acidic dwellings of my paunch onto the cobble walk. I gasp for air...

The view is paralyzing.

No sight,

nothing but the wretched stench

that has already claimed my nutrition.

I shuffle my feet to only hear a clink and clank.

The ground is uneven and cracked

with the feel of rubble that shifts with movement.

A liquid trickles down my countenance.

Thicker than water, lighter than sweat.

What has happened to me?

"Stupid Prompt"

I am not Tony Hoagland, so fuck

this attempt to scribe as another scribe

did to his scroll so many years ago.

I will not Rhyme or Capitalize

words that need no such thing.

To write a prompt asking this, is asking

a drunkard to give away his bottle, however

it may change him, he will not become

him.

I am a poet because of my style

such as a designer is to his feng shui...

I drink out my own bottle, and will

not be fed by the bottle Tony Hoaglands's

Bitch of a mother used to feed him.

I have nothing but Respect and Courtesy

for Mr. Hoagland, but to take the pen

of another, would be to kill my sould, and accept

another...

A Middle Eastern Woman Encounters Holly

I camped the night in Bryce Canyon, ten feet from an overlook where I watched the sun set over many miles of redish-orange hoodoos, the naturally sculpted rock formations. I awoke in the middle of the night to yelling and cussing and people near my tent, only to learn that I had accidentally set up camp in someone else’s reserved spot … opps!

Welcome!

Welcome, one and all, to "Dress Your Family in Carhartts and Camo," a blog about Idaho from a group of Intro to Creative Nonfiction undergraduate students living in Moscow, ID.  Moscow is home to the University of Idaho and is the state's self-proclaimed "heart of the arts."  And as Brenda Miller proclaims in her guide to writing creative nonfiction, Tell it Slant, as writers "[w]e are artists creating artifice."  This blog is our attempt to make something literary and meaningful out of the people, places, and things we encounter on a daily basis, to make them come alive on the page (or, more accurately, on the screen).  We'll look for the extraordinary in the ordinary.  We'll try to make connections, discoveries, and meaning.  We'll try to be funny.  We hope you'll laugh, enjoy it, and read on.