Humanity
Survivors and Victims
"Everyone has their own way to define things. Some definitions come from different sources, such as the bible, or a dictionary. There are some words that people dumb-down to make it simpler for those who are considered not as smart. There are many words that the meaning has been changed over the years to suit the world today. There are a few words that have multiple meanings. But there are two that hold should hold a special place, but are often overlooked. Survivor. Victim. It seems simply impossible to define survivor without victim.
By Elizabeth Karns-Waters4 years ago in Confessions
Confession: I am an apocaloptimist
Confession: I am an apocaloptimst. I saw a post on Facebook using this brand new word and I thought oh yes, that perfectly describes me. I watch all manner of zombie & world-coming-to-an-end movies. Why? Because I love to see how script writers remake communities and societies in the face of devastating circumstances. I’ve always been fascinated by ways to redesign the world to be ever more awesome. In fact, I call myself a future innovator (betcha never heard that one before!).
By Soleira Green4 years ago in Confessions
Stephen King Is NOT A Great Writer
Stephen King, the first writer most people think of, isn't all that grand if you really think about it. Don't get me wrong, he has more than earned the honorific of "Master of Horror", lord knows his books have given me plenty of nightmares.
By Mae McCreery4 years ago in Confessions
The Death of Storytelling
The storyteller has become so important nowadays that the story itself is irrelevant. I always knew Ernest Hemingway was a misogynistic great white hunter and philanderer who liked whiskey and smoking, and many of his books had a misogynistic great white hunter in it, busily smoking and guzzling whiskey on his way to philander. But Hemingway managed to make his stories about something larger. I never knew which of the kids in Stephen King’s IT was Stephen King himself, but it didn’t matter. His stories were so good and so varied they seemed to have been written by a gaggle of writers instead of just one man. John Irving was in fact a prep school rich kid like John Wheelwright, but A Prayer for Owen Meany is still one of the best books ever. Toni Morrison was a black woman for sure, but she was neither Sethe nor Denver in Beloved.
By Stacey Roberts4 years ago in Confessions
Who am I?
Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Julie. I started out as a Hannemann. Minnesota was a great place to grow up as a tomboy. I climbed trees, swam, fished, canoed, ice skated, and rode sleds down our hill (the best in town) onto the frozen river. I played music with my parents, three brothers, and sister. In addition to playing the flute, I played piano and sang.
By Julie Lacksonen4 years ago in Confessions
thank you.
To whom this may concern, I wanted to reach out and thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have been able to escape the gnawing feeling inside the walls of my chest, clawing to get out. I'm not exactly sure if it's trying to "get out", but it sure has the persist-ency like it wants to. I'm not entire sure how it got stuck in there in the first place, either. I'm not even sure if it's entirely stuck, per se. I guess I'm not sure of a lot of things. What I do know, is that it's like a slug; it just sits in there. It feels like a slug. It sits there unbothered, until it runs into some... salt.
By aoki4 years ago in Confessions
Dirty
Once you do me dirty, I may forgive you, but I’ll never treat you the same you will never get the old me again. So many people have come into my life and have been excellent teachers, friends, and lovers of life. However, those people keep treating you dirty and don’t even care that they are doing you dirty.
By Theresa Evans4 years ago in Confessions
The Crying Mannequin
Most don’t know what it’s like to exist this way, but then again how could they? Maybe they haven’t had a perfect life, but they never had to wake up everyday in a state of constant perturbation that has been slowly rotting their insides day after day after day. From the second they awake to the very last thing they remember at night… no, not many people can even begin to relate to a crying mannequin.
By 4 years ago in Confessions
I couldn't be part of my university's Comedy Society
The other day I was giving someone advice about going to uni, or at least, some of the things not to do. In hindsight I feel I could have crushed it a bit harder, but there's always the whole being depressedddddd thing. One of the things I definitely recommended was to check out the sports and societies. I didn't go to many and the ones I did were so categorically me I both found my people and felt isolated from others.
By CJ Francis4 years ago in Confessions
Self-Doubt
Self-doubt has been gnawing at my brain for many years now. I think my problem started by when I was in elementary school. Someone was there to criticize me on every little thing. I remembered when I was a part of some dance group that I and some friends created for the school's annual talent show. We were doing a dance routine to "Lipgloss" by Lil Mama. Gosh, time flew! This girl, Nikita, who I always admired for her outspokenness, was the group leader and came up with a few dance moves that we shy girls could do. It was some hip rolls, a few squats, and the finisher was a jump split. The jump split and the random squats weren't an issue for me. It was the hip rolls. For some reason, I had a wave of anxiety to move my hips in such a feminine way. I didn't think it was in my nature to do that; I kept thinking, "Everyone is going to look at me and laugh. I can't do this." So, every time it was my turn to do the hip roll, I became stuck and uncoordinated. Then, Nikita told the teacher, "She can't dance. She's too scared."
By Ashley Nicole Bourne4 years ago in Confessions
