Sincerely Sophi

Turkey, sweet potatoes, rolls, mountains of mashed potatoes topped with gravy, and casserole dishes full of foods you never thought could or should be in a casserole. For many this is only the beginning of a vast spread of traditional Thanksgiving dishes lining the dinner table for a holiday of abounding food, family and gratitude. Some families celebrate Thanksgiving intimately, with their immediate members and their families favorite traditional dishes. Other families engage in large reunions with distant relatives, throwing large parties of Thanksgiving classics to celebrate the holiday. For my family, it changes every year :) Growing up, I mostly remember spending Thanksgiving at one of two places. Some years we met at my Great Aunt's house in Stockton. They had a pool and land surrounding their house. Their golden retriever bounded around the backyard. The house was cozy and clean. We would color with my cousin Aaron, open an early Christmas present or two, and feast over or

It was dark in my room and I lay on the top bunk in the master bedroom of our house. Lydia, four years old and the second born, lay tangled up in the sheets of the bottom bunk, snoring away.  I was probably around six or seven years old.  The door creaked open and the tiny figure of my two year old, toe head blonde sister came waddling in, her blue eyes shining in the dark.  I don't remember much of the in between, but within moments you were snuggled in my arms on that top bunk. Tucked under the covers with your arms right next to mine. You were scared so I sang you lullaby after lullaby. Honestly, I think I sang Jesus Loves You, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, maybe Amazing Grace, and then I Love You Lord over and over and over again until you fell asleep. Eventually we were all snoring. You in my arms. My little sister. My snuggle buddy. Lydia safe and sound underneath us. And the songs of the stars whispers in our minds as we fell asleep. We shared a bed until I was in high school

  ~VuLnErAbiLiTy~ What a fun little word. Just kidding. It’s not. Vulnerability sucks. Well sometimes. But it's also pretty cool too.  Vulnerability is beautiful because it connects us to each other. It reveals the human heart and struggle. It helps us know we aren’t alone.  Vulnerability is also icky because it opens us up for people to see. It makes us susceptible to judgment. It’s risky and terrifying.  Unfortunately, the creative life demands vulnerability.  I used to think I had mastered vulnerability (haha, I know, don’t laugh too hard). I am generally a very open extrovert. Sometimes too much. I want to know and be known. I am more unguarded and therefore it is usually easier to share things about myself others may find incredibly vulnerable. But the thing is, vulnerability isn’t defined by sharing certain information. It’s defined by being vulnerable. Putting yourself in a place where you could be hurt.  Me sharing my middle name with others is not vulnerable for me. Talki

   This semester I’ve been deeply struck with complex discussions and readings on art and faith. I have also been challenged by various authors to examine what it means to be a writer. What sacrifices does it take? What makes for successful writing? Is writing art?  I’ve been told by the author of the article we read this week to kindly discard my rose colored glasses, because writing is not what we romanticize it to be. He criticizes thinking writing is artistic and a craft. The author said, “The romantic writer is the type who uses a ton of flowery language, thinks their book is going to get picked up by Harper Collins, and laments the lack of literary quality in today’s writing.” I will admit–flowery writing for the sake of sounding ‘pretty’ is not necessarily good writing. It lacks a certain quality and may not be labeled as successful. However, there is a difference between flowery writing and believing writing is an artistic craft. Before I continue any further as to whether or

To be honest, I haven’t given too much thought to publishing.  My thoughts on marketing surround the ways in which I’ve seen book influencers permeate social media and my harsh opinion of judging a book by its cover. The phrase “don’t judge a book by its cover” is kind of nonsensical, because we do judge books by their cover. It’s a marketing tool! If I’m honest, I am drawn to books by their covers. Of course, if I have heard of a book, the reviews by people or influences I care about will impact my decision to buy or read a book. However, if I am perusing a bookstore, the cover is the first thing I see. It is what draws me in. It says something about the style, subject, and genre of the book. And I will naturally be enticed to buy something that is more aesthetically pleasing.  Therefore, while I don’t believe we should judge people by their appearances, and while an awful book can have a fantastic cover, I do think book covers, as well as other marketing strategies, should be conside

  Hello lovely humans:) I've wanted to write about this for a while, and have only just now found a tiny window of time, with which I can hopefully write this post. Ironically, the topic of today’s piece has to do with finding rest and space in a bursting full schedule. Or maybe it's not ironic...because my schedule is indeed bursting full, and yet here we are, together, you-- on your screen reading my humble words, and me-- writing on my computer while my roommates comfort tv show plays softly in the background, and the rain finally drizzles outside. Something about this rain, the rain after the heat and smoke, resonates with me as an image of how I have been feeling. The past several weeks have been a lot of nonstop 'going.' Yet, in it I have found some moments of pause and unexpected rest. For the sake of honesty and context, let me take you back a few weeks.  It's a Friday. I have been going nonstop for the past 5 days from 6:30am to 12:30am. Swim to work to cla