humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Not Unbeautiful Entirely
The flock of pigeons on my block has been growing unnervingly bold over these swampy summer months. They strut around on the abandoned porch next to ours, roost on the roof in increasing numbers, and wait until the car tires almost touch them to get out of the road.
By Emily Arin Snider4 years ago in Humans
Spare a Thought for the Boys of Afghanistan
The US has ended it's war in Afghanistan after 20 years, and the Taliban that they overthrew have taken control of Afghanistan yet again. As Westerners look on, horrified by what they see happening, the news has been filled with stories about how women will suffer under the Taliban, and it is completely understandable to be concerned. The Taliban have a history of brutality towards women, forcing them behind closed doors, to dress from head-to-toe in burqas, preventing women from working and going to school, and dishing out violent punishments to women and girls for minor indiscretions.
By Chris Hearn4 years ago in Humans
The Experiment
“One would think that those who have been on the receiving end of cruelty and prejudice would never treat another in a like manner if they came to hold positions of power and wealth. It is an idiosyncrasy of the human race that the opposite is true. For that reason, it is impossible for the human race to survive. Therefore, I am recommending they all be terminated from the test planet immediately.” Smorgash nodded at the council.
By Alex Slusher4 years ago in Humans
A Game of Society
In a world of nothing, we are all told to be something. But what can that something be when the world is nothing and I, in it, am nothing as well? ‘Make the best of a bad situation’, that is what we are told… why not change the situation? Why try to best the odds of a world that is not worth living in, when all you need to do is change the game.
By Waterstars4 years ago in Humans
Old Town Orange
Most people are familiar with the saying, “It’s not goodbye. It’s a see you later.” Although I may have utilized that angle while parting from my college friends, I had a much more contrasting reaction when saying goodbye to the physical location of Old Town Orange. I lived in the heart of Orange for the past four years. What brought me there was my enrollment in Chapman University, a school that is a hidden gem. I distinctly remember the first time I flew out to tour the campus. Although I was invested in absorbing information about the school and admissions, and all that jazz, what sold me on wanting to move there was the simply adorable, humble, and subtle town that Chapman calls home. For anyone who hasn’t been to this area, I’ll paint a quick picture for you. The town of Orange is a part of Orange County, but it is NOT anything even close to resembling cities like Irvine, Newport, or Laguna. OC is vast, spanning dozens of miles in all directions, and contains many different beaches. But Orange has no beach; it is much more inland and comes with a bubble-like feeling when you’re there. The city of Orange was founded a very long time ago, actually, back in 1888. In fact, one of the first streets that created the historic district, known as Glassell street, was only a block away from the house I lived in throughout virtually all of college.
By Jordan Craft4 years ago in Humans
Escapism
I've come across a striking term. It's called "escapism". Take a quick second to consider the compounding of the word "escape" with the suffix "ism". In etymology, adding the suffix -ism to the end of a word indicates that the term represents a specific practice, system, or philosophy. Using -ism also suggests that the word is related to a belief accepted as an authority by a group or school of thought. In other words, it is commonly associated with a distinctive practice, system, ideology, or movement. So, we're all familiar with the word "escape". On a day to day basis, we engage in behaviors that allow us to escape from many situations. We escape from doing tedious work by procrastinating and stalling with other activities. We escape tough conversations with people close to us by texting instead of speaking verbally. We escape death nearly every time we drive in a vehicle. And we even escape in little ways by putting off responsibilities, wasting time, and forgetting to be mindful. Now, most people would mainly associate intimidation or dread when coming across the word "escape". From the many thriller films we've watched throughout the years to Dory reading off "ehs-cahp-eh" from the door inside of the submarine when trying to swim away from a determined great white shark in Finding Nemo, we typically partner the sense of anxiety with the act of escaping anything at all. So, why is that? It is remarkably peculiar that this simple word can induce such an intense sensation. I believe the presence of this effect allows it to fall within the category of other emotional trigger words such as surprise, fear, trust, anger, sadness, disgust, etc. Words that instill a particular emotion or set of feelings have a unique nature, and from what I gather, "escape" is even more thought-provoking.
By Jordan Craft4 years ago in Humans
Portland: The First Trimester
I have been in my new home for three months now. Three incredibly hard months full of tears and letting go. I had a woman come into the coffee shop yesterday in her first trimester of pregnancy talking about how terrible she felt; how uncomfortable and nauseated she was all the time. Talking about how the miracle of life is cool and all, but getting there had been a nightmare. Today I reached the last day of my first trimester in Portland. I think I believed that driving through the trees, Mount Hood on the horizon, greeting me to this new city, was my rebirth. This morning I realized that was the moment my pregnancy began. The incubation period taking its first steps; about to fling me into three months of pain, of digestive issues, of aches, of tears, of overwhelm. Yesterday that woman, the new mom to be, came into the shop for a latte and a cookie. But in turn, she gave me a reminder of why I have been in so much pain for the last three months. Perhaps we always look for patterns and signs when nothing is making sense. Perhaps those patterns mean something. Perhaps they only mean to make us aware of our search for answers. The pattern I am seeing is proof that my birth is coming. That I am gestating. That I am becoming. When I was twenty-three, I was pregnant. For nine weeks. I do not regret my abortion or the life I was able to both lead and leave because of it. But I often think of how miserably sick I was those nine weeks. It took me two months to decipher why I was so ill and emotional. It took me a split second to decide what to do about it. After the procedure, I began to yearn for a child. To wonder if it would ever happen for me. The fetus I aborted was unviable, malformed, the nurses informed me. They assumed it would bring me peace to know that had I not ended the pregnancy myself, I would have miscarried somewhere down the line. That the child was never meant for me. Instead, it made me wonder if I was even capable of building a whole being. I wondered if it would ever happen for me; or if I was somehow broken. I told people that I couldn't have a baby, never citing that part of that was because of the medication I was on for my bipolar; never citing that the other half of the equation was my strong and constant belief that I could never be of sound enough mind or finances to support a child. But part of me always wanted one. Always wanted to see if I could do it Wanted to feel the love of something that was all me. Wanted to be unconditionally loved by something, by someone, for once. That the greatest show of love is carrying someone, creating them, birthing them, and then spending a lifetime of caring for them. Today I realized that my journey was never to bring a separate soul into this world, that instead, I am to bring my own soul into this world, every piece of it. That I was intended to give birth to me, in my filth and glory. I was intended to love me unconditionally. To carry me, to create me, to birth me, and spend the rest of my lifetime caring for me in a way I haven't for the past thirty-two years. Today is the last day of my first trimester of my new pregnancy. In six months I will give birth to myself. A Pisces. Exactly where my north node and source of abundance sits. An emotional water baby, mercurial and without structure. A version of me that goes with the flow and only creates tidal waves when needed. A way to douse the Aries fire I have used to burn through my life. And that baby will be so astoundingly beautiful. But for now, I am all aches and pains. I am all nausea. I am all tears and cravings. I am excitement and terror. For now, I am still incubating. Still getting nutrients from the umbilical cord to my old life. For now, I am still floating. But in six months, I can't wait to take my first breath.
By Kymi Parker4 years ago in Humans
Blossoms Brighten The Darkness
Some days can be dark. Even if the sun is shining, the sky is blue and the breeze kisses her skin with love. Some days are still dark. The darkness comes from experiences encountered some fifteen years ago. People talk of triggers. Current circumstances that draw on old memories. Lilah doesn't get triggered as such. A memory for everything, in complete detail, as what she was trained to do. Trained to notice each major, minor, influential and exterior piece of detail. Lilah doesn't believe she suffers PTSD. More so a tendancy to have rage towards the incompetence of the 'system' than depression. Yet 'rage' is of no use in her existing life. Rage is ineffective and causes regrettable impulsive actions.
By Amanda Lewer4 years ago in Humans
