Waiting for my Hogwarts Letter
I sat under my blanket late at night on my bed nearly six years old with a flashlight to read through the entire Harry Potter series. My days were spent hiding and to read the story of a boy that grew up under the stairs, I felt a connection. As a young girl of a depressed mother and an alcoholic stepfather, books were my escape into a new world. I would wake up in the morning never having enough time to get ready for school, even at six years old. I would make breakfast for my sister and take the bottle out of the fridge for my baby brother. My mother would already be passed out on the couch and my stepfather would be stumbling out to work.
Four Little Coffins
Alaska is cold, not in the simplistic way that most winters are cold but all the time. Today, the air feels especially thin. Funerals always leave an undeniable chill in the air that can only be thawed by the passing of time. Sitting in the uncomfortable chairs, being there to support the town could not take away from the reality of today. Small coffins lined the front of the room surrounded by weeping adults, some the parents and others half relieved it was not their own children. Four coffins, why there’s not five of them, we may never know. My feet dangled above the ground as my mother reached for my hand to walk me up to say goodbye to four pairs of frozen lips.
One of the first things that I mention about myself as a business professional is not usually the fact that I suffer from Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia and PTSD. Being Bipolar is something that affects my life everyday as a mom, as a person and quite often as a business owner.
Rosalee woke up to the feeling of her leg being on fire. She jumped out of bed and pulled up her pajama pants to see her birthmark glowing red. Rosalee ran out of her room down the stairs till she found her mother yet again passed out on the couch. She lifted her mother’s pant leg and her mother’s birthmark was not glowing. This was insane, she was only 11 years old, this should not be happening yet. You see, Rosalee grew up in a town called Comerla where everyone was born the same day as an animal in town. Their birthmark was a depiction of this animal. Rosalee’s birthmark was of a pig, and her mother’s birthmark was a turtle. It did not seem fair to Rosalee that a drunk and addicted mother would be able to live as long as a turtle while her future depended on that of a pig.
History is humor thrown down on the timeline of human existence. Sitting in the ruins as I gaze upon the final breaths of those around me, I find myself wishing that we'd kept the history books in a safer place. The truth of the matter is that we never know the right decision until the worst possible outcome has already occurred. The cinged pages of our history lay in the ashes at my feet while the pages still turned in my mind. A yearning desire to rewrite the pages fills my soul, to create the phoenix from the ashes from my own history. For this, I must start at the very beginning. The first days of my people’s own civil war laid its waste during the same time your own lands were in the midst of their own battles.
Social Media Mean Girls
Understanding the social media algorithms can be extremely time consuming and very confusing to some. When you understand how they work, you can learn how to grow your social media channels organically. In this blog I will explain the social media algorithms as characters from the well-known movie "Mean Girls." I hope that this helps you see the algorithms more clearly so that you can use them to your advantage. The main platforms that I am going to go over today are: Tik-Tok, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Pinterest, Twitter and Linked-in.
Children of the Night
Evelynn reached the creaking metal gate in front of Applewood's place. Hoping Elliot was home she walked up to the rose red door and clapped the gold knocker against the metal plate two times as mother always instructed, her voice ringing in Evelynn’s mind like an annoying public service announcement.
My son Everett is Blue Not the blue that always brings sadness But the blue that creates crashing waves and open skies He is the blue that turns dark at the end of a long day only lit by the moon