success
The road to success is always under construction; share your equations for success — and learn some new ones.
Little Black Magic
Do you believe in magic? We all did at one point in our lives. The anxious-excited feeling of waiting for Santa to come on Christmas Eve and deliver presents under the Christmas tree. How did he know whether I had been bad or good? How did he know exactly what I wanted? How was it possible he was able to travel around the entire world on the same night and deliver millions of presents on a single sleigh? Magic...we were told. And we believed. Christmas Day we would run to the tree only to be filled with rushed feelings of disbelief, excitement and pure amazement. Magic was real, we had evidence! However, as we grew older...this magic started to fade out of our lives. We learned that Santa was merely a fairytale passed down from generation to generation. We stopped believing in ourselves, the possibilities of miracles.
By Sara6 years ago in Motivation
Make Good Choices
Make Good Choices The white room was empty except for the woman lying unconscious on the floor. She wore a tan tank top, matching underwear, and nothing else. Her brown hair was trimmed short into one of those popular pixie cuts. The room had four corners and a single door. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead and then there was a voice.
By Sam Bouie6 years ago in Motivation
I Am Not Prejudice
I never anticipated acquiring a lifelong friend from a class of 9 people attempting to get through a Masters degree in education together. James Starks, Jr. and I met in an industrial complex used as a classroom by Southern Illinois University Carbondale. The classroom was in Riverside, California and the students from many counties in Southern, California. James and I lived in the San Diego area at the time and it was a 2 hour drive. We opted to stay over in Riverside on the weekends we were in school and this is where I met his lovely wife Kathleen.
By Lady Karina Benish6 years ago in Motivation
The Little Black Notebook for Success
The Little Black Notebook for Success Imagine being taught all of your life to go to school and get a good education and you will live happily ever after. Newsflash…turns out so many have gone down this road only to end up scratching their heads and asking “where did I go wrong?” Don’t get me wrong, you have your doctors and lawyers making a mark on the world, but what about you’re everyday “Joe”? Will he ever be able to enjoy the so called “American Dream”?
By Candice Magee6 years ago in Motivation
Brittle Sorries
Georgia Thompson stares at the numbers on her computer screen with a trepidatious thrill running through her blood. Her buyer had wanted an existential horror piece, which had been heady and strange to paint, far outside of her comfort-zone. But the buyer had promised twenty-thousand dollars. Exactly enough to round out her savings; exactly enough to finally, actually pay for college tuition. So, Georgia had painted like her future depended on it (because it quite literally had).
By Alba Back6 years ago in Motivation
Viola’s Pages
The Black Book “Grand risings, friend!” My best friend, Danielle, barged into my new apartment with two iced coffees in her hands. In my state of exhaustion, I couldn’t decipher whether she was louder than usual, or if it was the emptiness of my new place that made greetings sound much more amplified. From the half empty cup in her hand, I could tell caffeine had made itself comfortable in her system. “Why are you up so early?” I said, still huddled beneath my blankets with sleep clouding my vocals. “Up? Girl, I haven’t even been to sleep.” That caught my attention and forced me to sit up. Before I could even ask, she handed me my coffee and I took a grateful sip. The caffeine combined with the iciness of the drink sharpened my senses well enough to pull the rest of my mind from its nocturnal fog. “I was enraptured by artistic muses that love to come out after dark and feed my need to create.” Then it hit me, “how did you get in here?” She pulled my keys from her back pocket and tossed them at me. “You left those in the door, genius. Luckily, the good people of NOLA are an honest breed. If you did that in New York, your whole place would have ended up on the back of somebody’s pickup truck, never to be seen again.” “I don’t have anything to take.” I knew I couldn’t hide the sadness in my voice. Earlier this year, I had lost everything I owned in a fire in my Manhattan apartment. I was grateful to be alive and took this tragedy as an opportunity to relocate down to Louisiana. Danielle came and sat next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I don’t want you to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Get back into your writing and keep making those masterpieces. Publishers are going to be begging you to be on their team when they see how talented you are. And anything you need, I will be here to help you. You’re my sister, Annie, you know that.” There were very few times when Danielle got sentimental, but when she did, it came from her soul. Wiping the tears that were gathering on my cheeks, I asked her what she was working on last night and she jumped back up with the excitement. “I finally finished the mural that I started on the brick wall on my roof!” I could tell she was so proud of her accomplishment and I couldn’t wait to see it. Danielle was a phenomenal artist, the type that would rather spend her days covered in paint, inhaling the overwhelming scent of her latest creation than fill her time with things that didn’t fulfill her. I was the safe friend. A complete 180. Never too daring or brave enough to step out of my own skin. I lived my life up until now dying on the inside, constantly racked with regret and fear that my life would be over before I’ve truly had a chance to live. “Congrats, D!” I threw my arms around her, genuinely happy for my friend. I pulled away from her and asked if she would let me take her to brunch to celebrate. “I have a better idea. Hurry up and get ready so we don’t miss out on the good stuff.” My confusion was definitely written in my expression and before I could get a word out to question or protest, she was pushing me into my bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
By Krystal Halliburton6 years ago in Motivation
Galle or Yalle
I run my fingers around the rim of the bowl and feel for irregularities imperceivable to the naked eye. Even something as innocuous as a tiny nick – a so called “fleabite,” will affect the value. I had spotted the bowl from several tables away at the flea market, the sunlight of the open field catching the floral engravings meticulously cut into the sides. It had been placed precariously near the edge of the small, folding card table to anchor the tablecloth from billowing in the early morning breeze. Turning the bowl over in my hands I can tell by the weight and brilliance that it is made with lead. Ancient alchemists, with their Quixotic efforts to turn base metals into gold, would have been dazzled by the chemical marvels of nineteenth century glassmaking. By adding lead as a purifying agent to glass, this toxic, dull metal transformed this, fragile, hazy material to a crystalline so clear that instead of shadows, it casts rainbows. A material that, when gently struck, rings like an ethereal silver bell. I gently ping the side of the bowl with my finger and hear the sweet, high-tone reverberation. It is not an idle action, nor is it a sentimental one. The ringing is a reassurance that I haven’t accidentally overlooked any cracks or damage hidden in the intricacy of the engraved pattern.
By Brijiana6 years ago in Motivation
Comfortable in My Own Moleskine
I fumble around desperately in my shoulder bag for my little black book and a pen, as I often do when inspiration strikes, tossing things aside frantically before the moment passes. In the back of my mind, there is always a distinct sense of anxiety that my sacred book could be missing from my bag altogether, laying bare my shame for whomever was destined to find it.
By Amy Piccinino6 years ago in Motivation
The Little Black Book
As I sat there on an afternoon waiting for the bus to take me to work, I had reflected on the night before. The stress and worries that I had on all the upcoming bills like every other month and wondered how I was going to pay all of them off again. Something overcame me that there was a solution and it would come across my life almost like magic. I shook that feeling or thought off and continued on my morning previously and that is how I arrived at the bus stop. As I sat there something inside my head told me to look to the side of the bench to the left of me.
By Avril Doucette6 years ago in Motivation
The Book of Intuition
Her paintbrush has come to the last strokes of what is left of the spruce blue. It was the perfect mix of the only two colors of five-ounce oil paint she could afford to buy. Her face begins to fill with mere disappointment as she glances upon her uncompleted canvas facing just beside the bedroom window. “Canvas number two hundred and fourteen,” she writes on the lower left-hand corner. She places it amongst the others in a line. Two hundred and fourteen canvases all with the same exact landscape. Her bedroom sits perfectly below the far galaxy that holds the gazing stars and crescent moon. It is the only canvas she has ever come to know since she was banished to her room by her father for all of eternity. It has always seemed like the normal way of life to her, until one day the stars of her fate guided her path to liberation in a way that only the Gods can explain.
By Erin Fallon6 years ago in Motivation
