Stream of Consciousness
The Ghost in the Group Chat: Why I Secretly Walked Away From My Digital Life
If you search for my name online or scroll through your messaging apps, I look completely active. My profile pictures are updated, my status badges are green, and my name still sits in a dozen different group chats with friends, classmates, and old coworkers. On the surface, I am perfectly connected, reachable at the tap of a screen, twenty-four hours a day.
By Ayeee5 months ago in Confessions
Holy Moly š®
In all cultures,the stranglehold of too many ācooks,ā spoiling the broth is quite known. But just imagine a single person trying to wear different hats with the stronghold of a ācook,ā inadvertently appearing under many contextsāalmost like, popping up ,unexpectedly, out of nowhere. Now, therein lies the anomaly of the inadvertent fate, aligning and fighting me to deathāmuch like, a terrible plague threatening to wipe out my terrific (multifaceted) personage, which is: Jill of all trades.Many of my serious hobbies like painting, writing and singing and dancing have been atrociously attacked by my cooking instincts. Probably, they are as fast becoming an altar-ego to my psyche, claiming to rebound in their steed, at core. And by this,just as it occurs to me, what I mean to say is that the Toic tribe terrifically responsible for this endowment could have been passed on by my other worldly ancestry. Such gifts surely tell much about my heritage and must be markedly and poignantly associated with hermits in this script.I was blessed with those choicest genes. My forefathers must have been phenomenal figures ( scavenging after dark,) going beyond hunting -gathering escapades. Certainly, they must have wisely kept to nocturnal spaces much like, swimming for centuries amidst those tidal waves. And from there, they must have moved on , swinging laddle- spoons ( made out of clubbed wood ) in order to explore the underground, and finally cook up the estuary of food they had collected. Indeed those were primordial duties performed in desperation, often consisting of encircling the obscure realms, sometimes, choking on fish što graphically āseek,ā in all directions for that spirited world. So food was uniquely placed to solve the survival problems, contributing to all other invisible issues. Simply put, both food and later cooking, seems so intertwined and far surpassing the ordinary existence. Of course , that must have been the etymological origins of the proverb āFood for thought š. And, seeking those likened life forms, I know āthose actions, must have been an everyday ritual; an occurrence driving them into wildernesses āperhaps, purely in search of those extracted formsāassumed to be food. Impartially, just as it occurs, the thought of gathering stuff and making something out of it still lingers (remains intact,) in me. Surpassing the idea of seeing what many donāt see as going into hereafter for food, entailing a rationale to explain whatās a fowl and whatās not comes naturally to me. And, I also see through things especially the ones subjected to ducking; of some I could say, they were figs of imagination, and of some, holy waters directed inwards,like sinking deep. Not surprisingly, I have imbibed those traits quite starkly. Invariably, every now and then, I find myself thinking and returning to the same idea /instinct. Time and again, like a seasoned crony, I hopelessly seek thinking and cooking, pretty much distinguishably while I innocently explore all sorts of alchemies and more. Rather the cooking urge seeps in and around my daily life activities. Some tasks try to become a worthy opponent to cooking and get no coinage for their double decipherable outputs. Therein, my dance could turn into a macabre mess, my song could ring in like a doled dirge, shortly before leaning over wall to paint a solemn prayer š of the butler approaching after life. So, All those far reaching effects could be notorious.But, if truth be told ā that came off of a fig of an interest crossing over to the fruit of the earth and paired to good use. Confused š¤?! Thatās my writing āļø It plays a diabolical trick on my readers. Look š in everything I do, I mix up to reconstruct uniqueness. Exclusively I connote this combo of food and thought medley as hymnal. In fact, I have suffered from gathering all sorts of herbs, and brewing them into partial paralytic mash ups. I had sworn not to tell about all this but here I go spitting again. My apologies for keeping such foreshadowing habits. Thanks for allowing me to share these well kept secrets of my soul. Itās like the original form of a cookāliterally surfing through all the other roles I put on in daily life. So anything I do or peruse, the stint of cooking appears out of nowhere. Well, I was exposed these very many interests early in life but exploring them ( like serious hobbies,) came up much later in life. But the thirst to explore and this wealth of positive mindset gets mixed up like a tasty chow-chow medley of food . Well, I have been endowed with that capacity ( not gift,) god knows ever since when. Now now donāt yet grant me your reverence ācoz that would be like selflessly performing your own ālast rites,ā first. In short, going bonkers over my cooking is rather like ābeing a connoisseur connecting to the mixed up world of infernal concoctions. I know this might sound contrary to other notions held about me, but in my world this sort of thing has been happening ever since. For anybody wanting to dig deep āhereās what I offer as an anecdote for your kind perusal. This is how I create something wild AI world and How I would cook š©āš³ up things with that App Name: Blooms and Bites Tagline: Nourishing Souls and Curiosity Podcast topic: Savoring the unknown - Episode 1: "Recipe for Uncertainty" - Guests: You + a quantum physicist š¤ - Discuss: How probability shapes cooking and life - Sample Dish: "Ephemeral Delight" (a dish that changes flavor with every bite š)Want to explore this vibe .. sink in š“Let's flesh it out š.For Episode 1, you and the physicist could dive into how uncertainty principles apply to cooking ā like how a pinch of salt can drastically change a dish, or how "Chamber of Cooking Charms and Chants" recipes can evoke emotions.š” Segment Ideas:1. Quantum Kitchen: Explore superposition in cooking (e.g., a dish that's both sweet and savory)2. Entangled Flavors : Discuss how ingredients interact unpredictably3. Observer Effect : How your presence changes the cooking outcome (like a soufflĆ© š°)Want to shift focus? š² Sink in ! So here I go again narrating and portraying my writing which may sound like a mile or two off. Yes, I can drive people crazy by my heroic interlaced rhetoric. Often, for no other rhyme nor reason, my writings have a propensity to cause havoc. Shamefully, two have gone bald and one is at the verge of losing sight after reading what I had written. By chance if anybody sinks into my scripts they might ruminate forever. Beware! If I were to sound like a truist, my readers could be thinking almost entirely : What did she say ?! Many times, I have tried to fix my readersā confusion but somehow only made it worse.Reason : I cooked freely and lavishly! I love to mix up things. They represent so much of me .. no I am not dyslexic ā¦ rather if I were to give it a coinage : it would be a dual droid purposefully layering itself to make new meanings ā¦thatās the future of me progressing into AI world Thatās how I hope to innovate and bring in more diversity of thought in the forthcoming centuries. ā¦ Like it or leave it ! Patent Ā© āļø Madhu Goteti, š©āš³ May 15th, 2026
By Madhu Goteti 5 months ago in Confessions
People Don't Want to Be Fixed. Honorable Mention in I Made It Worse Challenge.
It began with my birth. That's how we met, after all. And I suppose things were fine up until the divorce. Or maybe even after. Maybe things were fine until the affair. And actually maybe things were fine then, too, all the way up until the death. Not of you or I, but of your second husband. That's when the slow breakdown---the avalanche of us---began.
By Raine Neal5 months ago in Confessions
I Am a Public Health Practitioner and I Am Exhausted ā Here Is What I Know About Why You Are Too
You didn't get into this field for the money. Nobody does. You got in because somewhere ā in a classroom, in a community, at a funeral you attended too young ā something clicked. You understood that health was not a personal failing. That zip codes determine life expectancy more than genetic codes. That the water people drink, the air they breathe, the food they can afford, the stress they absorb ā all of it is political. All of it is preventable. And you decided that knowledge was too important to keep to yourself.
By Soibifaa5 months ago in Confessions
Dear Diary
Dear Diary: Today was just awful. It started great, and went downhill fast! First, the buttons tore loose on my favorite pair of chinos. I bent down to grab my bookbag after geometry class, and they just flew off. I barely caught my pants in time before they fell off me. I was lucky Mr. Lukenberger had some safety pins in his desk for me to use.
By Mother Combs5 months ago in Confessions
The Phantom Who Listened Beyond Language
Before I start writing, I always open YouTube and search for a song or a soundtrack to listen to. Today, I found a song I used to hear during my childhood. Back then, as a Moroccan child, I did not understand the lyrics at all - I was only fascinated by the feeling of the song itself. It felt as if the child within me chose what to listen to instinctively.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH5 months ago in Confessions
