Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

A few years ago, during the penultimate semester in my university career, a tragedy struck my classmates and me. While much time has passed, my thoughts often drift back to this time, and I wonder why it had affected me so much. In my fourth year of university, I was still under the foolish impression that I would graduate to be a top-of-the-line lawyer, a legal advocate for women's rights, a leader in the profession. It was a career path that I quickly learned was not right for me at all, but at the time, I thought it was my destiny. Hence, I took a non-mandatory tort and contract law class on Tuesdays from 6 to 8:45 pm. My professor, let's just call him Mr. F, was a loud, energetic presence in the room. He would pace around the front of the room, scribbling things on the board here and there, and using a handkerchief to mop the sweat off his brow every fifteen minutes or so. He was clearly very passionate about his career in law. The one case he taught us that struck out

I remember sushi and white wine Laying on the couch, entwined Singing high pitched shower tunes Re-watching childhood cartoons I remember spending all day in bed Going out all night instead Taking a bus around the block Having a picnic on a rock Red roses crumbling on the floor Carrying me up through the door Cooking spaghetti for two I miss the memory of you It's all snippets in the mind Of the time that's left behind I love myself and my mind too Which means I will always love you Not you as who you are today But the memory which will stay

If I could be a hedonist just for a day I'd drink and I'd gamble my whole day away I'd lay twisted up with you under the sheets And eat a copious amount of ice cream and sweets If I could be a hedonist just for a week My outlook on life would be a bit less bleak I'd bathe in wine and swim in iced tea I'd sunbathe all day near the blue sea Why are we taught that pleasure's a sin? When it's the only thing that provokes a grin I could sit all day with drool on my chin I could wear just slippers and bare my skin It's how nature intended for us to be Eating fruit, naked, beneath a pine tree Don't be afraid of the tale of Adam and Eve We've grieved enough for humanity I have not an ounce of moping left to spare Life's too short to be stuck in one square If I could believe that we could be free Then a happy hedonist, I would be

I sometimes, probably too often, complain about my day job. The hours are too unpredictable, the pay too average, the students, at times, drilling a hole through my ears and directly into my brain with the constant questions, excuses, and regular torments. But I must realize how far I have come from my very first "real" job, which I want to recount in writing, so I remind myself that life is not all that bad right now. My first job was at a very popular Canadian movie theatre chain. I was ecstatic when I got the job. It was right before Christmas time during my senior year in high school. Back then, I didn't have to worry about paying trivial bills, and didn't mind the concept of "rent," so I planned to use 100% of my earnings on truly important necessities, such as fast fashion and Burger King whopper meals. It was a truly exciting time. On the first day of training, the boss (who seemed intimidating at the time, but I now realize more resembled a ba

               I drummed my fingers on the receptionist ’s desk in unease. There was a chemical smell all around me, seeping into my skin. A small brown dog was barking behind me, its owner looking defeated, repeating, “Stop it, Biscuit! Get down!”                “That will be $245.65. How would you like to pay?” the receptionist asked.                I paid the full amount by credit card. I would worry about how I would afford the mounting vet bills later. I looked at my small black cat, Mika, whom I’ve known since I was thirteen years old. She looked up at me innocently with her eerie and beautiful yellow eyes.                “It’s okay, Mika” I petted her and she purred, the tip of her pink tongue lolling out of her lips.                I sat on the bench with Mika on her cat bed sprawled on the floor in front of me. I looked at her shiny fur, her adorable whiskers, soft toe beans, and gorgeous little tail. She was the closest thing I’ve felt a maternal love fo

A red cardinal got trapped In a green arboretum Among the lacy fern And blush cacti flowers It flew in a desperation Unique to all animals Who can sense death Then the red cardinal spied A man-made creek With fattened koi A precarious bridge And a cheap Grecian statue So it drank and made  Its prison into a home It learned it can live Off of tiny tangerines Produced in the Asian pavilion And ripened crab apples From North America Soon the cardinal forgot That there was a world it once knew One with sunlight  Dewy earth worms Domestic cats on the prowl The dome glass walls Became its home Is there even a life worth living Outside of them?

I know too many beautiful women who hate themselves. Because they've been taught, from a young age, that their key to success and happiness is in their looks. That their long hair must be cherished, just as men cherish their careers. And not just hair...also nails polished, legs waxed, toes crammed awkwardly into pointy stiletto heels, breasts sweating uncomfortably beneath layers of padding, underwires digging into the skin, leaving pink imprints that stay there long after the bra has been taken off for the night, eyebrows plucked, skin rinsed, face powdered, arms slathered in creams that smell like strawberries. It's hard not to hate oneself when there's so many steps to remember, when walking out of the house is not as simple as walking out of the house, when one must never forget that the world is watching you. Some think that young, beautiful women don't have problems, but I haven't seen a more troubled demographic. We are constantly picking each other apa

It's weird seeing somebody Somebody you no longer know That you recognize vaguely From the silhouettes in your dreams It's like seeing an alien From another planet, a world That has gone extinct I mourn these fossils I've collected Over the years, one friend here Another there, a soulmate lost From seeing each other everyday To having coffee once a month To catching up once a year Until I become a sad afterthought A rare cameo in your dreams A blot on your subconscious But nothing more It's weird seeing somebody Somebody that mattered The twisted vines of our lives Grew separately, each reaching Towards a different sun Now I no longer matter to you And so you don't matter to me You might as well be dark matter I mourn all friends I've lost All love I've let slip through My fingers like sand Another year has begun I have to bury the fossils Dig them up every few years Just to remember my past And then cover them in sand once m