Taen is a first year student in the CSUSM LTWR MA program. Taen enjoys reading and listening to stories, and hopes to share her stories with others, too.
All video footages, audio sound bites (not including the poem) and images are sourced from archive.org. Some of the original sources can be found here:
The Pathet Lao : National Archives : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
Refugees Laos : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
Jake is majoring in Literature and writing studies with a minor in Visual Arts and will graduate after this semester towards the end of 2022 or early 2023. He was born in 1999 in Southern California and has always loved literature and storytelling. Ironically, Jake hadn’t started writing until he began high school when he took his first creative writing class. Since then, he’s only continued to improve, and now close to the end of his college journey, he is happy to begin sharing his work.
Marcelo’s work, The Revolutionary Men of My Time Did Not Cry, is a visual journey that incorporates music to let the reader immerse themselves into an adventure of the reader’s choice, and takes a melancholy and beautiful path no matter what they might choose.
Marcelo Muñoz Jr. is a fourth-year student at California State University, San Marcos majoring in Spanish Literature and Literature and Writing Studies. Born with Mexican heritage, his writings explore a socio-historical and cultural emphasis concerning external, geographical circumstances as construction and deconstruction of identity. In his spare time, he enjoys the simple, little ordinary things, whether it be listening to a tune or two from a variety of musical genres, singing aloud, moving to the lively rhythms of cumbias and funk, or basking in the cool, outdoor breeze.
This Twine piece lets the reader choose their romance, while also leading them towards a realistic but uplifting realization that is expressed through poetry.
Maria Martinez is a fourth-year student at California State University San Marcos. She is a Literature and Writing Major and one day hopes to become an educator. Maria likes being in the sun and she likes reading, but never both at the same time.
Summer is over and here are a few things you’ve missed since you’ve been gone: I graduated high school with honors. Stanford sent me an acceptance letter. But I rejected Stanford. Mom is upset, naturally. The countless tears shed, the endless hours spent dedicated to homework to ensure an acceptance to my top school, seemed all for naught. I like to think you would be proud of me for walking away though. I made the cover of a small fashion magazine no one has ever heard of. I used the money to travel Europe for two months. I visited Jack in London. Tío wasn’t too happy I used his ex-boyfriend as free lodging, but something told me I had to go with what little money I had. Something inside me pulled me away from the confinements of our childhood home and just go. I visited the Buckingham Palace. I stole a book from The British Library for you, your favorite: Frankenstein. I attended an open-mic night and read the poem you wrote about an old love. I know the pieces you wrote about missing were pieces of him, but some of those pieces are pieces of you I miss too. Pieces I quietly read aloud, pieces I swallowed down, pieces I sobbed over in front of a crowd of strangers. Pieces. Jack flew me to Paris but didn’t let me take the reins this time. The Eiffel Tower is much smaller in person, but even the thousands of illuminated lights brought me to my knees. I ate 13 chocolate croissants. Jack watched in awe, but I knew you would egg me on after the first three. Like that one time we played the marshmallow game, you stuffed too many marshmallows in your mouth and you couldn’t talk. I tried giving up after five marshmallows but, mouth-full, you kept pushing me to stuff more marshmallows in my mouth. I devoured those chocolate croissants. I wore crumbs and smears of chocolate on my face like a badge of honor. We made our way to Italy where we temporarily departed in Milan. I walked the fashion streets in an oversized, velour, black tracksuit and sneakers—I can imagine us matching and laughing as people judged us. As I loomed over the Teatro Alla Scala, a ticketer convinced me to watch Romeo and Juliet the play. In the nosebleeds, I watched their tragic story unfold before me, dampening my cheeks with tears. Your voice echoed in my head as I wiped away the tears telling me, “That’s love alright. Love is a strange weakness because it means you have something to lose.” I wept even harder. Jack picked me up a few days later and we went south. I tasted wine for the first time—real wine, not the cheap stuff. While on a hike at il Sentiero Degli Dei, I twisted my ankle. Sissy, it was so beautiful. The crisp, cool air engulfed me as I reached the peak. I held my breath as I met the overlook. I gazed at the greenery on the rocky mountains, entranced by the formations shaped into steep steps, and noted the different shades of blue in the ocean down below. I wondered if I could fly in that moment then I cried. I cried. A nonnina and her grandson spotted me limping on my way down and Jack poorly helping me. They beckoned us inside their modest home, offering us fresh bread and seasoned tomatoes. She taught me how to make true Italiano ravioli di zucca. Like the kind we had at il Farro Café Trattoria for my 16th birthday. I remembered how much you liked the sage and butternut squash ravioli di zucca. When I mentioned it to nonnina, we stopped all conversations, cleaned ourselves up, and began cooking in the small kitchen she had made thousands of dishes for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We flew back to London where Jack would see me off, but when it was time to go home, I wasn’t sure where I was going. Mom was waiting for me in California, school was waiting for me in New York, but pieces of you were scattered everywhere and nowhere in between and I wasn’t sure where I was going. I wondered if this is how you felt, in those last moments between your last breaths. If you felt loss in this enormous world and deemed it too great. I wondered if you felt unsure where you belonged and decided you would sit neither here nor there. I wondered if you forgot about us in those last moments, if I could just remind you: you weren’t alone. I wondered. So, I’m writing this to you, in hopes you’ll materialize one day and tell me I’m on the right path. But until then, I’ll think about you in everything I do. I’ll overstuff myself with homemade ravioli, hearing you cheer me on. I’ll graduate NYU and feel you standing there with me. I’ll trek mountains and see you in the clouds looming over. I’ll find solace in the pieces you’ve left behind. Pieces of you.
Priscilla Lopez is an undergraduate student at CSUSM majoring in Literature and Writing Studies. Her goal is to become an editor-in-chief at a major publishing company or, if so boldly, her own publishing company. She’s a freelance editor and content writer for Red Line Edits. In her free time, she always has a book handy, a TV-show to binge watch, or paddle boarding at some of the best beaches San Diego, CA has to offer.
