Almost three weeks ago, we got a new puppy. There was no comparison to the first encounter we had had with Franklin, our firstborn. This puppy — Marshall — was calm, soothing, loving, and obedient. He slept on the plane ride home, no problem. He didn’t have any accidents, or wail and scratch my legs for two and a half hours. Nothing of an alarming and disillusioning sort. But, nonetheless, I was still extremely nervous for him to meet Franklin.

Franklin has been the center of most attention since he came on the scene in the summer of 2017. People…

When I was in eighth grade, I got in trouble for bullying. A group of about twelve of us eighth grade girls made a circle around a sixth grader. While we chanted, “Tie my shoe. Comb my hair,” she attempted to escape like Red Rover but we wouldn’t let her through.

This is all the principal was told when the crime was reported.

What the young girl had left out of her story was how she bossed around her two friends to do those same things we were taunting her for. The friends had come to us, telling us of…

August 28, 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gives his “I Have a Dream” speech.

In school, many history courses assume a strong undertone of the inequality endured throughout time. Whether it be those of Jewish faith or African American slaves, almost every group possible has been subjugated due to their appearances and/or differing beliefs. It is through the analysis of this repeating pattern — regardless of country or era — we instill tolerance in young minds of the various groups of people alive on this planet.

I employ tolerance because we have conveniently removed emotion from textbooks. We have transformed antiquated names, faces, stories, and souls into placeholders of time during movements that “no…

Let us identify the elephant(s) in the room before we proceed.

I am a millennial.

I am not immunocompromised.

I did not lose my job.

(Let me know when I’ve lost you).

I am not a scientist or an epidemiologist or a politician.

Rather, I am an observer.

My lack of qualified titles or circumstances above may make me less attractive to many people swimming through the muck of dissonance and statistics; but, I think an observer has something valuable to offer when we lose sight of everything else in pursuit of only one thing.

The observer pulls us back…

the entirety of my childhood, i was taught to believe that being competitive was an asset.

especially when it comes to playing sports, it’s easy to fall into that mentality.

surrounded by parents and coaches who live off this single source of sustenance.

pressuring us, in our disadvantaged states as adolescents…

we want to please to a degree.

life is so much easier when we can all peacefully agree.

so, we feel that we need to perform,

transforming chaos into harmony,

not only to get noticed favorably —

to “be something,” —

but, because we crave the acceptance…

All I can think about these days is “what does sexuality mean?” What is missing from the cultural conversation around how we should feel in our bodies in a state of homeostasis?

And, the most prevalent source I can see informing this topic is history. The longevity of the patriarchy. The repression, suppression, subjugation, exploitation, manipulation, excavation, and disregard for the feminine body and spirit. I have played with as many analogies as a writer can to describe this phenomenon we are all witnessing via #MeToo and #TimesUp, but I am bombarded by more questions than answers.

What are these…

My heart swells against the cage of my chest.

“Be free,” it whispers from the inside out, registering through the chambers of my ear.

My body is speaking to me, telling me what I need. I ignore it. I am frightened by this ominous voice from within, rattling off a riddle of rerouting simplicity.

“I am already free,” I reassure myself.

I fall back into the habit of any available distraction to wash away my focus from my heart’s begging plea.

The next morning, I arise without feeling the aid of sleep. …

via Preston Smiles

I was on a walk with a friend today when we were discussing the ever-popular topic of Instagram. Meaning, I was venting about the title of “Public Figure” that certain users attribute to their profiles. I am convinced that this term crystalized out of thin air; the only person I can think of ever being attributed with a label such as this (meaning it was not self-designated), during B.I. (Before Instagram) times, would be someone like Princess Diana. …

This essay is a stream of consciousness. It is my soul spilling out words that represent feelings. There were no pictures involved during the soul excavation of this rant below.

More often than not, I don’t do all that I’m “supposed to.” I don’t go to yoga. I don’t finish an assignment. I feel like I don’t have time to do it all. I feel the pressure of emphasis on getting my life together, on knowing what I’m doing, on being more efficient, which only diminishes my capacity to operate. If I don’t think about what I’m doing and just let it happen, I feel more accomplished. Yet, then, it’s not organized. It’s not easily understandable. It’s just me doing what I feel, which I think is what creativity is…

I have been fortunate enough to pay my management company $6.00 extra each week when the inevitable time comes for me to do at least two loads of laundry ($1.50/load). The money is not an issue when it comes to convenience. However, I never liked the idea of a communal laundry room shared amongst the other questionable tenants of the structured living space I paid for; I had made the choice to live in this complex based upon my needs, not the people that surrounded me. …

Cee Hunt

Author of “Loose Ends: The Evolution of Consciousness Part I,” and resident of San Diego, CA.

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