Embarrassment
A Face Palm of a Day Part: 2
Kate took a sip of her first mimosa and felt it instantly touch every part of her insides. Kate had been wanting to go to Carroll Place for a while and finally got a reservation. For $28 you could get an entre and all you can drink mimosas and other brunch drinks for an hour and a half.
By Leah Lawrence 4 years ago in Confessions
Supellectilem Cladis!
As of 5:15 AM this morning, I have stopped being a consumer of flatpack products from that Swedish company. I did not expect to have such a dramatic epiphany, but I realize now that I should have seen the signs earlier. And when you hear my story, you will understand my decision.
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Confessions
My Tenth Grade English Teacher Destroyed my Love for Writing
This article was originally posted on Medium. When I was seven years old, I knew I wanted to become a writer. I loved reading, writing, and telling stories. The power of a pen was unimaginable; you could create new worlds, give rise to passionate emotions, and explore new adventures. Reading a book was like an escape for me. When reality felt complicated, I retreated to my favorite books.
By Jasmine 4 years ago in Confessions
Am I Committing Social Suicide?
My boss was telling this riveting story of how she got sick from drinking too much and puked in her handbag so as not to ruin her party dress. The others around me could relate to that. Some had matching or even more sozzled stories on offer.
By Rhea Dyuti4 years ago in Confessions
Hectic Mornings.
Some days I love being a mom of two head strong and stubborn children. Today was one of those days that has us mom's wanting to pull all our hair out and run for the hills. It started with everyone sleeping through three alarms and waking up almost two hours later than our normal wakeup call.
By Heather Rose Pfeiffer4 years ago in Confessions
Family Secrets
~~INTRO~~ How long can one keep a secret? What about an entire family? Most say they can keep a secret and even claim to be able to “take it to their grave.” I must admit keeping a secret for 17 years is quite impressive especially one that was so juicy. One, mind you, that involved an affair that lasted for some time.
By Courtney Watson4 years ago in Confessions
Positives, Inspirations, Pleasures...
It is in the beginnings of the songs, in the midst of its performance on my senses, in the heat that rises in its wake, that thoughts truly reign supreme. Thoughts of how I see my loved ones through the lens of my heart and wisdom and wonder. I see them in every vision that rises before my eyes, in any atom of sight that glows off in the distance, in those far off buildings and sights where in my mind I see things happening, imagining some epic piece of life playing out. It could be at the hands of the fate of the Universe or some chapter in some grand journey. Either way, it is being unblinded to those invisible depths of thinking and perception that Heaven leads me to find. Through the pain that a beautiful instrumental, be it a phone alarm or something I come across in my musical discovery travels, brings to me imagine the loss of losing those loved ones one day by mortality requisite, or sights of them dancing along with me, silly in the grip of society's perceived filter, but a glorious hope of a Heaven--a party...endless even--that awaits us beyond these grips of grief-tinged points of cloying reality. I see them dancing, young and old alike, and I laugh with joy; laugh at how they move and flow with such finesse, and remind me, even, of how larger than age and life those young ones reveal to me in their actions at times. Form may be said to be unimportant, and it all changes, and is transformed forever, but their forms are still of importance to me. My heart and tears ache and flow at the sights of their possible flaws, and my mind sees those things and feels them within the loving filter and system that is me; that is the one who loves them and would take on their pain for them, more than I could and even beyond what is initially prevalent and possible. They are everything to me. Even if there is so much more I could get out of my life, any possibility that involves leaving their physical side or proximity brings me pause and a necessity within to avoid action and to nip it in the bud. You see in movies often that people go through journeys--heading off far from their homes--only to realize that what was most important to them was already there, waiting for them to come back home. Then again, it could be societal conditioning, or the beliefs of others that have overriden those moments of re-reflection and potential for change. Whether it is many manipulating causes that push me to choose to remain in the life exactly as it stands, or perhaps not, here is where I feel obligated to stay, suffering or otherwise. What the hell do I HAVE to go out there for? When all those things that my soul would yearn for if they passed in my absence, are already here and now? It is a continuing attempt at going through a process; of working by the inspiration of self-help materials and leaders, as I mentioned in the companion rant article that preceded this one today. Perhaps it is akin to this writing process, which requires me to fill out at least a minimum of 600 words before I can process this writing exercise, art piece, what have you. How far ahead do we have to write the story of our lives before we can get to the next chapter? After all, we can always write the same characters into our next one, can't we? Every journey has its main players, and secondary characters, and even cameos, all of whom could be present along the length of the saga. Perhaps its time I craft my autobiography in a way: of past, present, and potential future. Who knows? Maybe such a future will come true after all?
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man4 years ago in Confessions
Barfing in a hearse, is not as glamorous as you might think.
Barfing in a hearse, is not nearly as glamorous and exciting as it sounds. I will tell you now, the story of how I once had the misfortune of throwing up in the driver’s seat of a hearse, in procession, with a family member in the passenger seat. I write in graphic detail, because of my profession and being a mother of three children, I feel it does you no good, in the interest of the story, to not go into a high level of descriptions of the event. So, consider that your warning and invitation to continue on with the read.
By Lorie stewart4 years ago in Confessions
