Here's the recent articles submitted by olevia sower
Articles By olevia sower
The Importance Of Exercise
By: olevia sower
I never liked exercise. Exercise was something that jocks - not-too-brightpeople who ran around and sweated for fun - did. Exercise involved brainless,taxing, pure effort for a goal which had no purpose. The ideal of being fiteluded me. Walking up a flight of stairs left me breathless, but I was sure italways would. Singing a note for longer than eight beats turned me blue, but Iwas certain it was simply too difficult.
My definition stemmed perhapsfrom my own complete ineptitude in all athletic events in which my ten years ofpublic school education had forced me to participate. Exercise was embarrassing,filled with humiliation and defeat. It was being the absolutely last one to bepicked for dodgeball and having the two captains fight over which one would haveto take me. It was sweaty, and messy, and the teachers didn't give me enough timeto change clothes. I did not like exercise.
But my sophomore year of highschool, the bomb dropped. Gym wouldn't fit in my schedule. After our initialglee, my parents and I sat down and wondered. So, if gym didn't fit, what would Ido? The principal told us. I would be doing independent gym - exercising on myown time.
A nightmare, I thought, as I trudged to the YMCA to sign up fora membership.(read
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Category : Health
The Aspiring Artist
By: olevia sower
Mysister was the Artist, given infinite amounts of paper, paints, markers andcrayons. I was the Intellectual, receiving books. I had no objections, preferringprivate worlds to messy pastels. But one day, while cleaning my room, Idiscovered an empty pad of watercolor paper. Further searching uncoveredwatercolors and a paintbrush aching for use. My music was blaring, and somelong-abandoned part of me twisting within the confines of the monotonous routineof school, books, and studying sprang free. Water was obtained and a picturedrawn. It was nothing incredible, but the feeling that I had poured into it was.From then on, I couldn't create enough. I composed, drew, painted - always withmusic that intensified and clarified the emotions I put on paper. Slowly, Iimproved. And as I did, sitting in my unsatisfactory green room, I began to yearnfor something big, a masterpiece, an ongoing creation.
The transition wasboth sensible and unthinkable. Sensible because in my mind it was a naturalprogression, unthinkable because I knew of no one who painted murals on theirbedroom walls. It began with a yellow moon set against a black night. If I hadknown how tiny the effort that moon took would be compared to my later creations,I might have given up then. That is the only time in my life that I am glad tohave been ignorant of something.(read
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Category : Internet Marketing
