humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
World Cancer Day 2022: Know the Sure Cure for Cancer on Cancer Day
World Cancer Day 2022: Key Points World Cancer Day happens to be on 4th February every year. This day aims at delivering the right information about cancer to most of the people and thus developing awareness. The first ever World Cancer Day was celebrated in the year 2000 at the World Summit Against Cancer held in Paris. World Cancer Day was initiated by the Union for International Cancer Control (UICC). World Cancer Day 2022 theme is ‘Close The Care Gap’.
By SA News Channel4 years ago in Humans
Just Realize that Life on Earth Is Mostly difficult to handle
When we realize that life is suffering it sometimes gives a negative vibe and it observes because a person always wants to be a positive person but accepting this hard truth about life can be the first step to a more grounded, effective brand of positivity.
By Wajiha Khan4 years ago in Humans
Some thoughts on my thoughts
I had a panic attack today. I’ve never had one before. It hurt my chest. I felt sick. I cried. And all the time I knew what was happening. I knew I was having a panic attack, and my brain, rather than telling my already fraught nervous system to calm the fuck down, just watched me cry like some deranged voyeur and did nothing to help. Not one thing.
By louise wilding4 years ago in Humans
Slow Your Roll With That Pen Pardner
They say the pen is mightier than the sword and I truly believe that. But in looking at a pen, it does seem so innocently innocuous, especially when compared to the razor sharp edge of a sword, or worse, a double edged sword. My husband, a retired Marine, is into military history and its weaponry. Let's just say there are some pretty scary looking swords and daggers in existence.
By Pam Reeder4 years ago in Humans
VOICES
January1989 SHE GAZED OUT OF THE UNCOVERED WINDOW at the ice and snow of Michigan's January. The tiny campus apartment was a relief after the six short months she had been transposed from her licensed career as a realtor in one of the wealthiest counties in the state of Michigan to a student on Eastern Michigan University's campus. Although she applied to several others, MARYGROVE COLLEGE, WAYNE STATE UNIVERSITY and MADONNA College... a two year campus that she would need to file for transfer from, keep connection with her course instructo/county judge/new friend; and the newly licensed attorney instructor from the classes registered for. The first four year campus to return was EMU. Eastern's campus was the more open road which would let her avoid a jumble of directions in her mind. She was transposed to being a student, living on campus, squandering for a roof over her head. With the approval for admission and start of class in September 1988, Carmen... I... the she at this story's heart... drove the sixty miles south to confirm approval for enrollment and begin the necessary steps to attend classes. Despite the agonizing pain of a freshly fractured skull, I... she drove with her daughter in the passenger seat beside her and to the reluctance of her father's Pontiac SSE Limited to what would be the final ruination of her and her two children's lives. Her sixteen year old daughter, Juanita, was unusually aware of traffic about them and nervous for her mother's condition; but rode silently with her favorite selection on the radio. She was a very necessary escort of late. Although she was not yet licensed, it was with thanks to Mrs. Love, the Southfield High School advisor, that Juanita had already taken the driving instructions course. The first thing they had done on arrival in Southfield was to get her state identification while her mother transferred driver's license to the new state; and new eyeglasses... the prescription filled for her daughter during her mother's own appointment after the September 1987 military accident. Her new glasses came along from PearleVision... her mother's first focus upon landing in the new home space. Juanita had worn glasses, however resentfully, since age six. As co-driver, she needed to be attentive.
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Humans
So, You've Met A Stalker
A Few Years Back She smoothed her hair in the rearview mirror. Waved a hand over her face in short movements and snapped the compact shut, and got out of the candy red sports car. Not bothering to smooth the shirt over her shorts as she walked confidently to the convenience store on the corner. The woman didn't notice a few faces peering out from the windows. This was the hood. In Canada that meant "the wrong side of town." Whatever that was supposed to mean it was an older area of town, really, a pretty quiet area. The occasional commotion, person running and a siren but mostly elderly. She was there temporarily, this she could afford when going back to post grad. But... who is that, parking an expensive sports car on the side of the street, Marilyn Monroe?
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle4 years ago in Humans
Beautiful song
Music's Gay Measure," wailed the voices. The willow trees, outside the high, narrow windows, waved in the wind. They had lost half their leaves. The tiny ones that clung wriggled like fishes caught on a line. "...I am not a marrying man..." The voices were silent; the piano waited. "Quite good," said Miss Meadows, but still in such a strange, stony tone that the younger girls began to feel positively frightened. "But now that we know it, we shall take it with expression. As much expression as you can put into it. Think of the words, girls. Use your imaginations. 'Fast! Ah, too Fast,'" cried Miss Meadows. "That ought to break out--a loud, strong forte--a lament. And then in the second line, 'Winter Drear,' make that 'Drear' sound as if a cold wind were blowing through it. 'Dre- ear!'" said she so awfully that Mary Beazley, on the music stool, wriggled her spine. "The third line should be one crescendo. 'Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly Music's Gay Measure.' Breaking on the first word of the last line, Passes.' And then on the word, 'Away,' you must begin to die...to fade...until 'The Listening Ear' is nothing more than a faint whisper...You can slow down as much as you like almost on the last line. Now, please." Again the two light taps; she lifted her arms again. 'Fast! Ah, too Fast.' "...and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but disgust--" Disgust was what he had written. That was as good as to say their engagement was definitely broken off. Broken off! Their engagement! People had been surprised enough that she had got engaged. The Science Mistress would not believe it at first. But nobody had been as surprised as she. She was thirty. Basil was twenty-five. It had been a miracle, simply a miracle, to hear him say, as they walked home from church that very dark night, "You know, somehow or other, I've got fond of you." And he had taken hold of the end of her ostrich feather boa. "Passes away from the Listening Ear." "Repeat! Repeat!" said Miss Meadows. "More expression, girls! Once more!" "Fast! Ah, too Fast." The older girls were crimson; some of the younger ones began to cry. Big spots of rain blew against the windows, and one could hear the willows whispering, "...not that I do not love you..." "But, my darling, if you love me," thought Miss Meadows, "I don't mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like." But she knew he didn't love her. Not to have cared enough to scratch out that word "disgust," so that she couldn't read it! "Soon Autumn yields unto Winter Drear." She would have to leave the school, too. She could never face the Science Mistress or the girls after it got known. She would have to disappear somewhere. "Passes away." The voices began to die, to fade, to whisper...to vanish... Suddenly the door opened. A little girl in blue walked fussily up the aisle, hanging her head, biting her lips, and twisting the silver bangle on her red little wrist. She came up the steps and stood before Miss Meadows. "Well, Monica, what is it?" "Oh, if you please, Miss Meadows," said the little girl, gasping, "Miss Wyatt wants to see you in the mistress's room." "Very well," said Miss Meadows. And she called to the girls, "I shall put you on your honour to talk quietly while I am away." But they were too subdued to do anything else. Most of them were blowing their noses. The corridors were silent and cold; they echoed to Miss Meadows' steps. The head mistress sat at her desk. For a moment she did not look up. She was as usual disentangling her eyeglasses, which had got caught in her lace tie. "Sit down, Miss Meadows," she said very kindly. And then she picked up a pink envelope from the blotting-pad. "I sent for you just now because this telegram has come for you." "A telegram for me, Miss Wyatt?" Basil! He had committed suicide, decided Miss Meadows. Her hand flew out, but Miss Wyatt held the telegram back a moment. "I hope it's not bad news," she said, so more than kindly. And Miss Meadows tore it open. "Pay no attention to letter, must have been mad, bought hat-stand today-- Basil," she read. She couldn't take her eyes off the telegram. "I do hope it's nothing very serious," said Miss Wyatt, leaning forward. "Oh, no, thank you, Miss Wyatt," blushed Miss Meadows. "It's nothing bad at all. It's"--and she gave an apologetic little laugh--"it's from my fiance saying that...saying that--" There was a pause. "I see," said Miss Wyatt. And another pause. Then--"You've fifteen minutes more of your class, Miss Meadows, haven't you?" "Yes, Miss Wyatt." She got up. She half ran towards the door. "Oh, just one minute, Miss Meadows," said Miss Wyatt. "I must say I don't approve of my teachers having telegrams sent to them in school hours, unless in case of very bad news, such as death," explained Miss Wyatt, "or a very serious accident, or something to that effect. Good news, Miss Meadows, will always keep, you know." On the wings of hope, of love, of joy, Miss Meadows sped back to the music hall, up the aisle, up the steps, over to the piano. "Page thirty-two, Mary," she said, "page thirty-two," and, picking up the yellow chrysanthemum, she held it to her lips to hide her smile. Then she turned to the girls, rapped with her baton: "Page thirty-two, girls. Page thirty-two." "We come here To-day with Flowers o'erladen, With Baskets of Fruit and Ribbons to boot, To-oo Congratulate... "Stop! Stop!" cried Miss Meadows. "This is awful. This is dreadful." And she beamed at her girls. "What's the matter with you all? Think, girls, think of what you're singing. Use your imaginations. 'With Flowers o'erladen. Baskets of Fruit and Ribbons to boot.' And 'Congratulate.'" Miss Meadows broke off. "Don't look so doleful, girls. It ought to sound warm, joyful, eager. 'Congratulate.' Once more. Quickly. All together. Now then!" And this time Miss Meadows' voice sounded over all the other voices--full, deep, glowing with expression.
By Mintoo kumar Yadav4 years ago in Humans
When a friend destroys your trust
How do you forgive someone who betrayed your trust? A person you thought was a very close friend, but turned into a snake in the grass? How do you trust someone who had a family member hack your computer? How do you trust someone who continued to act as your friend after they turned you into law enforcement. How do you trust someone who turned you out of their house when it was ten degrees below zero and snowing? Knowing you had no place to go? How do people like this exist in society? All of these questions are true. It happened to me in 2018. Now I am paying a dear price for what this friend has done. She isn't the only one to betray my trust. While I was in jail I requested visits from my pastor. He didn't get the approval from the jail until I had been released. The pastor came to see me after I was released. He gave me one hundred dollars to keep me off the streets. Now he is going to pay my hotel bill until I fly back home to Virginia.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee4 years ago in Humans
