Abrams, H. (2011, November 15). Occupy Wall Street NYC [Photograph]. Cryptome Protest
Photos Series:, Http://cryptome.org/protest-series.htm, New York, NY.
Barbush, R. (2012). Occupy Wall Stree. Retrieved April 22, 2016, from
https://owsanalysis.wordpress.com/2012/05/04/occupy-wall-street-conclusions-6/
Black, R. (2011, November 21). We Are Winning: The Art of the OWS Movement [Occupy Wall
St.: Reclaim the Economy]. New York, NY.
Black, R. (2011, November 21). Occupy Oakland [Photograph]. Occuprint, Los Angeles, CA.
Bowmer, R. (2011, October 06). [Photograph]. Cryptome Protest Photos Series,
Http://cryptome.org/protest- series.htm, Hong Kong, China.
Calhoun, C. (2013), Occupy Wall Street in perspective. The British Journal of Sociology,
64: 26–38. doi: 10.1111/1468-4446.12002
Cherette, M. (2011, October 27). Jon Stewart: 'What the Fuck Happened in Oakland?'
Retrieved April 20, 2016, from http://gawker.com/5853779/jon-stewart-what-the-fuck-happened-in-oakland
Clickmylips. (2011). HOT CHICKS AT WALL STREET PROTEST. Retrieved April 21, 2016, from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w-uvwpl_GM
Clotfelter, A. (2011, November 21). OCCUPY [Digital image]. Retrieved April 20, 2016, from
https://ledblack.com/2011/11/21/we-are-winning-the-art-of-the-ows-movement/
Denning, G. (2011). Arrest the 1% [Cartoon]. In We Are Winning: The Art of the OWS Movement.
New York, NY: Led Black.
Drew, R. (2011, November 18). Police at the Wall [Photograph]. Associated Press Photos, NBC
News, New York, NY.
Elam, M. (2011, November 4). How art propels Occupy Wall Street. Retrieved April 22, 2016,
from http://www.cnn.com/2011/11/01/opinion/elam-occupy-art/
Fairey, S. (2011, November 21). Occupy HOPE [Photograph]. We Are Winning: The Art of the
OWS Movement, New York, NY.
McVeigh, K. (2011). Occupy Wall Street's women struggle to make their voices heard.
Retrieved April 22, 2016, from http://www.theguardian.com/world/2011/nov/30/occupy-wall-street-women-voices Occupy Wall Street (Occu-Evolve) ACTIONS TO DATE. (2013). Retrieved April 22, 2016, from https://occuevolve.com/what-is-occu-evolve/occu-evolve-ows-actions-to-date/
Rudolph, M. (2011). HOW TO MAKE A
“If you want to make her laugh,” my Dad urged me “tell her she looks like Loretta Lynn. She likes that.”
I was preparing to say goodbye. Billows of clouds sped past the plane window; I asked her to hold on just a little while longer.
As my brother and my mother and I sat on the king-sized bed of which she took up a mere 80 pounds of space, she said the same thing she always said when she saw me: “You look skinnier, did you lose weight?”
She was always obsessed with losing weight.
The conversation waxed and waned according to her awareness; often times we’d sit and wait for her to open her eyes again.
Eventually, she sat herself up in bed and offered each of us a fragile hug. After many lingering, desperate attempts to stop time, I asked her if she needed help lying back down. She gently instructed me how to elevate her feet and indicated for me to pull the sheet up to her chin so that she might stay warm.

In the downstairs kitchen, we joined my Grandpa and stood together in silence.
A baby monitor had been set-up so that Grandma could call upon him whenever she was in need of assistance.
Suddenly, I heard a strained version of my Grandmother’s voice coming through the speaker: “Laurennnnn”....she called.
I looked confusedly over at my Grandpa. He smiled a sideways smile and nodded back upstairs, urging me to accept her request. I gathered myself; shaking off what I thought were our final moments to hark back to her room.
Quietly re-entering, I watched a delicate smile purse her lips. “You see those two flowers that hang separate from the rest?” she asked, slackly pointing to a vase of wilting flowers on the dresser beyond her bed.
“I always think they look like little witches feet hanging; that’s what I imagine when I lay here. Like witches boots hanging from thin legs.” I let out a small giggle and pushed the hair away from my face.
Her smile turned into a look of stupefaction, and for several moments she didn’t say anything but fixed her gaze upon me, staring as if in wonderment or concern; I couldn’t quite grasp the expression.
Finally, she broke her eyes from me and studied a spot on her arm.
“Look, here. I got another tattoo today,” she announced, gesturing to a tiny, dark triangular spot near her wrist bone.
She was making small talk. Anything she could think of.
“This was my first one,” she continued, showing me another blotch. “It’s shaped like a heart. I don’t know what it’s from; liver spots, or what.”
Stifling back the urge to burst into woeful tears, I was simultaneously clinging onto the intimacy, the delicacy of this moment. It was just for us. I decided to enjoy it.
“Now you can say you got a tattoo in your life, Grandma.” She chuckled knowingly, understanding the irony of her having always been against tattoos and scorning the rest of our family for getting them.
I walked nearer to her then, bending down to take her hand in mine and survey her green eyes, which contrary to the rest of her body, were shining like calcite crystals.
At last, I stroked her hair. “You look beautiful.”
She smiled a faint smile, her eyes glistening, “Thank you.”
1. I’ll tell you what I’d like my mortal human expression to be.
A gentle presence. Purely compassion.
A solid construction made to soothe others.
I’ve lived a life of service. But not in the way I want.
Yet I know altruism is an impossible trait. I cannot escape my own narcissism, my own selfish inclinations.
I am spoiled. I may not recover.
Perhaps this is what makes me still wake-up tied down by my own weight, A sagging of shoulders, a tiredness behind my eyes.
It's like I'm carrying within me the battle scars of my ancestors.
All I know is that I want to bend the laws of my own body.
2.
The pounding of my feet on ruthless cement has warped my bones.
Already, I feel creaky, like an old house.
Will this body fail me so soon? Sometimes I fear that. Arthritis whispering their sweet nothings in my fingertips.
There is so much to conquer first; so many trails to wind my body around.
I feel I am bent inward lately.
How freeing it would be to raise my spine, to stand fully with the expression of myself?
I am two beings in one. Free and trapped all at the same time.
I make efforts to commune with the dimension in which I’ve been born, But somehow I know this body isn’t the end of me.
It is simply a shell for a soul not yet actualized.
"All I know is that I want to bend the laws of my own body."
From the beginning of this course, I committed to dropping traditional Western discourse on rhetorical practices. Instead, I decided to take on a more Eastern approach. This involved adopting a ritual of mindfulness, of coming to observe a piece of writing in a space of empathy; to meet people, to meet myself, where they are, and where I am, in any given moment, without judgement, and without constructs. I found that by seeing the world through this lens, I went deeper -- while becoming freer in practices which I was raised so rigidly. My calculation came in a form of re-calibration; to constantly realign my inner compass, yet to allow for spaces of difficulty, and to let the classic rhetoric with which I was built upon, slip away. Sift is the process of that upheaval paralleled with metastasis.
"The problem is that when you set up your world in dualistic terms of good and bad, right and wrong, being in control and being out of control, you are going to exclude a lot of perspectives, people, and legitimate spiritual activities." -Dream Yoga
A reflection on reflection
Vol. 1
Poems, essays, and observations on writing, living and healing.
Lauren GrotheSenior Portfolio, USFSP
Spring 2016
GLADYS BARKER GAUER A TRIBUTE TO NEWARK JAZZ CLUBS
hillary can't be trusted.
Pitbull's favorite Cuban food
We all know Pitbull represents Miami and Cuban culture to the fullest, but do we know what his favorite Cuban dishes are? Find out below in this CNN interview from 2014.