Such Stuff As Oat Bran

            Oat Bran is a rather mundane meal, one which presents a transient window for edibility before it eventually regresses into a blob of ghoulish rubber, but I seem to make it every day. This is, in part, because I’ve lost my artistic appetite. Like staring down at the depths of congealed Oat Bran, with its opaque face yielding nothing but a wrinkled, grimaced expression gazing upwards in perpetuity, I have no craving for my cerebral right-side. As an english major burgeoning on the cusp of academic fruition, saddled with debt and no clear back-up plan, suddenly succumbing to a head full of oatmeal is not exactly opportune. Somewhere within the stratum of my literary career I broke that seal between work and play. Words which once held power now seem trivial and pathetic, like squinting down the iron barrel of a .22 gage and inexplicably concluding that the skeet at the end is as irreleva...

           

            One of the benefits of being a non-traditional student is that I have watched part or all of most of the Super Bowls, live on television. Beginning with Super Bowl VIII, when the 1973 Miami Dolphins defeated Fran Tarkenton and the Minnesota Vikings by a score of 24-7 , I can remember past athletes of that sport and many others clearly. I have the perspective of comparing them with the athletes of today, and I have to admit it is an interesting dynamic. Not only that; it is fuel for many a spirited conversation with my younger classmates at University of New Hampshire.

            So what businesses have I to weigh in on the revered New England Patriots? Born in New York and high schooled in Florida, my first duty assignment in the Air Force was at Pease Air Force Base in 1982-83. Subsequent enlistments and deployments in the Army n...

             “Molly, you know your awful right” I told her through the broken screen of my cell phone. I could imagine her now, thousands of miles away, her lips pursed, the Miami sun making her already tan skin tinge with the cancer I told her she would get if she didn’t wear sunscreen. “Don’t judge me, he’s cute,” she tried defending her promiscuous behavior “and he’s not a white guy, isn’t that nice?”. I rolled my eyes, since I relocated to what she thought was the whitest possible state, she was perpetually making fun of me. “Are you okay though?” I asked, my voice hesitant, I hoped the extra sun exposure and city life would be enough for her. The line went quiet for a moment, and I could only think about all the things that have already changed in such a short amount of time.  

            “There can only be one” she told me, her small eyes slanted at me behind rectangular shaped...

            DOVER - As the widespread drug epidemic continues to grow, places like the SOS Recovery Center in Dover offer a place for addicts to begin or continue their recovery through alternative support programs encouraging creative endeavors. Laina Reavis, the Capacity Building Specialist, took some time to sit down with us and explain more about her own recovery as well as some of the services that the center offers. 

            Laina’s recovery began in 2015. She woke up one day feeling miserable and realized she needed to get clean. When asked about the detoxification process, she chuckled.  

            “I didn’t go to a detox center like most people do. I detoxed myself, I don’t recommend it. it was a nightmare. I did that for a month and once my family saw that I was clean, my mom took me back in and said she would support me through it.”...

The normal stale bus air is tinged with sharp, boozy fumes from the accumulated revelers’ breath. At one stop, a pervasive odor of pot enters with the passengers, adding an organic feel to the mix. A bright orange T. Rex lumbers on board to appreciative grins and comments, only to fall backwards onto his tail when the bus lurches back into motion. “Shit!... this thing is hot,” he complains of his inflatable plastic suit (I think he was a he, but it was hard to tell with the dinosaur head in the way). T. Rex’s fellow passengers run the gamut of mythical creatures, from mermaids to unicorns to Beyoncé. I count a handful of sexy cops, plus two sexy SWAT officers. Then there’s the actual cop surveying the scene from the front of the bus.

Two sexy cops catch up.

"Halloween weekend on the Campus Connector is the people-watching highlight of my year."

With the exception of two Catholic priest costumes, all the students I meet s...

PORTSMOUTH - Cafe Nostimo holds to the claim that some of Portsmouth’s best restaurants are located in strip malls. With plenty of tables, and a large area for live music nights, the restaurant offers a wide selection of Greek and comfort foods. The décor is minimal, but this does not detract from the atmosphere.

I stopped by on a Friday. The restaurant was bustling with retirees, students and others who wanted to try the cafe. Cafe Nostimo is a casual, counter-service eatery, so knowing what you want before you get there helps. Making those decisions can be difficult, though, as the menu is varied and fairly large.

Greek dishes like gyros and keftethes (meatballs) are on offer along with burgers and chicken tenders. There are also numerous options for non meat-eaters including soups, salads and pizzas.

Despite the crowds, it was easy to find an empty table. For appetizers, I ordered the pastichio (baked macaroni and gr...

   Trypanophobia, or simply put in medical literature “needle phobia”, is defined as an extreme fear of any medical procedure involving a needle or injection of any kind. However, trypanophobia is often confused with aichmophobia, which is the general fear of needles or pointy objects. Trypanophobia is a very real fear. It is an anxiety-inducing fear and as someone who openly admits to suffering from this phobia I often get a follow up question of: “if you’re so afraid of needles, how come you were able to get tattoos?” Well, simply put, I wanted them.

   Having received professional tattoo’s, and given myself one stick-and-poke, I can confidently say that I have

wanted each and every one of those needle-fueled experiences. However, I have never once wanted to endure a situation in which a syringe has injected something into, or drawn something out of, my body. No, thank you.

   Now, I admit, at first that may...

October 23, 2017

On a gray October day in Hampton, New Hampshire, seawater rose halfway up the sides of a doghouse 20 yards from the shoreline. It surged through the basement window of a house further inland and stretched to the street where traffic was stopped. Construction crews directed cars around areas where water covered the road, up to a foot deep in some places.

On this day, water flooded the seacoast because of the King Tide, the highest tide of the year. Such tides are normal and occur once or twice every year. But with global climate warming and sea levels rising, scientists project that tides of this magnitude could become more common in years to come.

Kirsten Howard, Coastal Resilience Specialist for the New Hampshire Coastal Program, helped organize the #KingTide2016 social media campaign this year. The campaign urged coastal residents to post pictures of flooded areas during high tide. More than 50 people submitted a tota...

The Quiet Morning

I see the trees they’re

Waving at me, gold                         

Dreams I arouse from

The hive, a glass

Line hangs linen

Opal scattered

Sun pierces through

The colony

Ashen in sleep

Slowly creeping

To morning dew

I soar above

Geranium

Her nectar sweet  

But my old flame

Tempts me with her

Long slender neck

Under wispy

Endless sky, my

Aerial view

Of Hollyhock

Thrusting solar

Pollen wands

Sugar too rich

Undeserving

Even to stare

For summer is

Never enough

When the foxglove

Begins to wilt

And the clover

Which possesses

Enchanting groves

Surrenders its

Grip, the bitter

Frost, which will sting

And shock the growth

Sudden to halt

So it is, now

I must persist

Foraging the orchards

Ere young crimson

Recoils pose.


 

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