Call for Paper Submissions

Stance: Studies on the Family, is associated with Brigham Young University.You must be a undergraduate or graduate student to submit. Submit creative writing to academic papers to personal essays to Stance: Studies on the Family today!

Send us your work in these 4 easy steps:

1. Pick your academic paper, personal essay, creative writing, etc. Send as many submissions as you want. Just include the number in the subject of the email. (See point #4.)

2. Fill out the Submission Form. If you cannot see this form, you will most likely need to update Adobe. If that still doesn’t work, you will need to include the following information in the body of your email:

  • Name
  • Email
  • Phone #
  • Major
  • University
  • Undergraduate / Graduate student
  • Year in school
  • Paper’s title
  • Abstract

3. Email sftfjournal@gmail.com: include your submission (preferably a Word document) + information from the submission form

4. Email’s subject line: “Last name, First name, Stance Paper Submission # ___”

DEADLINE: Submit by 10/10/2014 at midnight. If you have any questions, please email us ASAP.

Thank you. We can’t wait to read your submissions for Stance: Studies on the Family! Check out the website at http://stanceforthefamily.byu.edu/.

madera-contrachapada-ocre

Last night when I lay down sickly,

Resting my tired head on the table,

My ear against that smooth surface,

I heard thu-thump, thu-thump,

And for a yielding second,

I truly believed that I was listening to

The wood’s heartbeat—

Its soul connecting with mine.

Of course, it was only my own quick heart,

Thumping loudly in my tiring ears.

But there was a connection, spiritual and soft

Between the ancient, stricken tree and me.

I feel like this has become my life motto. Or it should be. Or I should be better at making it my life motto.

Plus . . . BALLOONS!

What a sweet, sweet surprise. <3

What small victories are you celebrating today? Please comment below. :D

Hope you are having a beautiful day.

xoxo,

the bbb blogger

When I was a child, I remember sitting in the car, and it was the time around the new millennium, that magical year of 2000, the year that people speculated about and argued over and wondered what would cause the end of the world. I didn’t know, at my young age, what exactly was happening. But I knew that this year meant change. As I sat in the backseat, a thought suddenly popped into my head.

“Mom, how old will I be in the year 3000?” I asked. Pausing, Mom added in her head and then answered with my age plus the additional 3,000 years.

“But,” I struggled, “I won’t still be alive by then, will I?” Well, not exactly: alive in spirit, alive in heaven, or twinkled, becoming perfected and full of glory. I thought over that, and that night was when I really realized my mortality, although I probably didn’t completely comprehend what that meant.

When I was even younger, I wanted to be everything: a teacher, a dance instructor, a gardener, a chef, an art teacher. My future home was designed to be four stories high (each story a different arena of specialized knowledge). There would be a perfect backyard and a little side house so Mom and Dad could live nearby, as well as a white gate that would connect to the house next door where my brother would live so our children could grow up friends. I decided to create my own utopia. But during the millennium, after that night in the backseat of the car, my idealizations fell, like a desolate sun sinking from the sky.

I’ve had depression for years now, although I couldn’t pin-point a date of when it precisely begun. And for a long time, I felt like my future was small, day-by-day decisions. My biggest goals were doing well in high school, getting into college, finding some job. For me, the future just meant that I’d work for fifty or sixty years until I’d die.

The word posterus is Latin, meaning following, next, or future. And that word sounds pretty close to the word preposterous to me. A preposterous posterus seemed to be destiny—my destiny. I have health problems. Learning had always been a struggle, and making friends and socializing was difficult.

The guessing game has never appealed to me. I’ll probably continue to have health problems—that’s not going away any time soon. My time will be more limited at certain times due to stresses, and money will sometimes be tight. Sometimes I’ll be alone; sometimes I’ll have support. I’ll lose loved ones, and eventually my body will also be laid to rest in its crumbling grave.

However, by the end of high school and through my college years, I found passions. Through my love of language and lyrics, history and harmonies, travel and turning pages, I finally realized that although I really love literature, I truly love learning.

What will I do with my life? What will I accomplish? I will experience life, not just endure it, by turning my preposterous posterus into a prosperous posterus.

 

 

The blogger of http://redsailstakeme.wordpress.com/ suggested that I check this artist out after my post of the soundtrack of Amelie! Thanks for the suggestion!

August Blues makes me think of Lana Del Rey’s hit song “Summertime Sadness.”

I had never really understood why people could ever be sad during the summer. The sun shines. The sky is brighter. The world seems to be happier.

The song’s been out for awhile now. I know, I know. But when I first listened to it a few summers ago, it was the remix version. The techno, pumped up, feel it in your veins version. And this seemed really weird to me, you know? Listening to a song about suicide, like it was almost glorifying the idea of taking your life, the haunting lyrics and Lana’s deep voice: it all made me sad. Sad it was summer.

Every so often, someone will bring up seasonal depression. And I always assumed that it only occurred during the winter. But you could be sad it’s summer, sad to see other people happy and living perfectly normal, simple lives, and you could still feel so empty in contrast to everyone else. Like finally dying would be the best way to make you happy and everyone else around you happy.

Like Robin Williams. He committed suicide in summer. Maybe it could’ve been any other time. But it was this summer. And people missed him so much. Would they even miss me?

When you think thoughts like this, you become immune. Numb to the pain and the hurt. Nothing scares me anymore.

Really, there’s nothing beautiful about suicide. There’s nothing to glorify or celebrate. But songs like “Summertime Sadness” or the deaths of famous celebrities like Robin Williams, well, maybe—just maybe—it brings more awareness of the depression, the summertime sadness, that so many people suffer.

There’s beauty in saving a life.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/august-blues/

 

This clip is from the cult classic movie, Strictly Ballroom. It might seem a bit odd, out of context, but it really is a fabulous movie (with a fabulous soundtrack). Enjoy!

xoxo,

the bbb blogger

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