Andrea Sturm
Stories (19/0)
President Trump, I get it.
Tony had his own ideas. His own ideology. His ideas were real. Not far from reality. Just a little bit skewed. He was not a bad guy and he was certainly not a good guy. He cradled the center until he fell from grace. Grace was bestowed upon him by a collective community of members who deemed him as responsible until they deemed him as irresponsible. It was not all his fault but certainly his responsibility to curtail. It was a long time ago when we lived at 900 N. Lake Shore drive in Chicago. Until we fell from grace. It is nearly impossible to return from the small indiscretion as compared to those of so many leaders to follow.
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in The Swamp
President Trump
Tony had his own ideas. His own ideology. His ideas were real. Not far from reality. Just a little bit skewed. He was not a bad guy and he was certainly not a good guy. He cradled the center until he fell from grace. Grace was bestowed upon him by a collective community of members who deemed him as responsible until they deemed him as irresponsible. It was not all his fault but certainly his responsibility to curtail. It was a long time ago when we lived at 900 N. Lake Shore drive in Chicago. Until we fell from grace. It is nearly impossible to return from the small indiscretion as compared to those of so many leaders to follow.
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in The Swamp
Pink pig tails and a ponytail dress
A pink dress and pigtails, not she. Is she a feminist? She wondered. Biased? Or merely jaded? She wondered why her interactions with the masculine have been, historically, combative, argumentative, a fight on subjects such as principles, morals and boundaries. It seemed so random, she thought, she wondered if the others in her tribe were approached with similarity. She wondered how they might respond and if it brought them satisfaction, resolution and shared enlightenment or were the interactions an extension of a deeper darker undertow?
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in Motivation
Mesmerized
Mesmerized Was observation a gift or a curse, she wondered. All the minute details, encumbering her mind, were they useless, useful? She pondered. It is true, the small things often are transformed from her imagination, she thought. She wondered, what will create the larger transformation? Not those that resemble the brown paper that was cushioning the items shipped in a box that wraps an old floral foam which is held in by branches and a ribbon, no glue needed.
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in Motivation
Building the dream
11.29.2020 She found herself to be curious about the most obscure encounters. It is not as if she had been waiting and lurking. It was just another chance encounter which sparked the interest in the workings of the mind of another. On this occasion, she was on her daily journey to her garbage receptacle. It is a large container that is shared by the eight units of the rental building where she resides. It sits in the alley along side two more containers that are identical except for the address that brands the container to the building across the alley, another eight-unit building but here they employ two containers. They are not free. It is a paid vendor service that the residential rental building pays. On the other side of this same alley are two private residence containers that are allocated to the homeowner. One is used for waste and the other to recycle. Neither container is as large as the ones assigned to the residential buildings. The city provides the containers and the city removes the waste. The residential containers that are assigned to the apartment buildings employ a service to pick up the waste and pay a fee. This sets the scene.
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in Motivation
American Dream
She explored why she felt the way she did. Dismissed. Unrecognized. Disrespected. She had considered it was in the manner that she commanded attention. She became harsh. It was not her nature. It conflicted with her soul and her spirit. She was determined to find the happy ending in a fluid landscape of incidental interruptions. It finally occurred to her it was the weight that she decided to give the conflict that would build its power and strength. It was a new approach. She had left her baggage at the station. She was ready for a fresh new journey.
By Andrea Sturm3 years ago in Motivation
THE BULLY
EDITED I think that the saddest aspect of the Bully is that they are developmentally delayed in human growth. They have been frozen in time in aspects of their character and they can be triggered to regress with just the right word or action. The thing that may triggers a bully is simply an illusion embedded in the past that they allow to the surface. I am, perhaps, a bully when I am bullied. Having never owning that character out right, I have adopted the characteristics of a bully by mimicking their own action.
By Andrea Sturm4 years ago in Humans
BATSHIT CRAZY
BATSHIT CRAZY Gigger: II Living the example, the American Dream A navigation of sights, sounds, She, wandered in the streets toward a goal, the local grade school. In the late 1970’s that meant navigating the pavements over the booze drenched streets. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted out of the doors of the sleazy speak-easy and late-night hold overs would crawl out shocked into a sundrenched look that was pale, skinny, empty and dark as the sunglasses that fielded the sun. It looked as if their very skin would shrivel at the exposure and then they were gone leaving only a trail of smoke from their rhinestone set cigarette holder and the brand of cigarette from any man.
By Andrea Sturm4 years ago in Journal