Humanity
Searching for Home
You don’t know what home feels like until it no longer exists. When the comforts of the love that was embedded in your soul, and poured out of your physicality daily is no longer apart of your routine, you know that place you found familiar has lost its kinship to your spiritual and fleshly being. Stripped of your culture, your heritage that enveloped you-called you – summoned you into greatness was taken in a heist so greatly accomplished that the thieves still reap the benefits of this bounty to this day. The intelligence mishandled, falsely assigned, funds misappropriated and familial connections left behind. The horizon full of yellows, and the plentiful land mixed with hues of all shades of browns, burnt orange sun reflections and the reds, greens, and blacks- so beautiful that they most certainly are deeply indescribable. Chiseled faces, with cheekbones only the runways of Heaven could behold. Skin tones free from blemishes caused by man-made toxins and diseases. Skin so buttery smooth to the touch that you forget it belongs to a human being. I do not remember my home because I only know the stories that I have been spoon fed. Truths never proven- only hypothesis and probabilities of the homes of my ancestor’s existence.
By Marshekia Raven4 years ago in Confessions
Restricting Access to a Third Dose of Vaccine Could Be FDA's Worst Idea Yet
My very few regular readers know that I recently took a third dose of Pfizer Covid-19 vaccine. You can read all about the reasons for my decision here. I just got back the results of my first neutralizing antibody titer assay post 3rd dose and the numbers are outstanding. For this most recent test I was able to have the assay run against the Washington (original outbreak) strain, as well as the South African and UK variants. Delta variant was not included as labs across the world are still struggling to expand their stocks as the virus has proven particularly delicate to handle in the lab. Ironic, given how robust this particular variant has proven to be outside the lab. In any case my titer against the South Africa variant increased from 724 to >16,000, and similar large increases were seen for UK and Washington. As a reminder 128 is considered the minimum titer for protection and the higher the number the better. My own numbers, exactly like everyone else's who has been tested had been dropping precipitously and a plot of the data suggested I had 1 or 2months of protection left at best which is one of the reasons I moved to obtain the 3rd dose when I did
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Confessions
Shattering Safety
Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you. - The Police, 1983. I've been called many things in my life, some complimentary, some not so much. But there are 2 things I had never been called, dishonest or afraid. In fact, I prided myself on being neither of those things.
By Misty Rae4 years ago in Confessions
My Birth
Light; a sudden pressure like I had never felt before; cries fill the room. “Is my baby okay?” Too distressed to respond, I simply continue crying. Why would Mom take me out of the only place I’ve known and loved, to be here?? Why would she want me separated from her for even a moment? I can’t take this. The asylum-white walls of this room, the mix of chemical smells that saturate my nostrils, the harsh bright light that covers the scene-it is all just too much. All I want is for the sensory overload to be shut off-for my world to be simple again.
By Basya Penn4 years ago in Confessions
The Most Devastating Thing a Teacher Ever Said to Me. Top Story - September 2021.
2009 was a very bad year. At the beginning of February, I’d been unceremoniously laid off from a job I loved and spent the next nine months unemployed, gravely depressed, and slowly developing a methamphetamine habit. With each rejected resume came a new layer of self-hatred and self-destructive vices. I barely recognized myself.
By Jessica Conaway4 years ago in Confessions
Blinded By The Light
It was a balmy evening and would be a clear starry night. Gil and I were foodservice buyers and we were riding together to a (then) Hallsmith-Sysco sales meeting at the Wamsutta Club in New Bedford, Massachusetts. I don’t remember the exact date in 1975, but Manfred Mann was playing their big hit “Blinded By The Light”, seemingly on every FM station from Boston to Providence. We were looking sharp as the Wamsutta Club was a “gentleman’s club, and Gil and I determined if they would let us in, then we must be, by association, “gentlemen”. As we were arriving, some of our lady sales persons were being held up at the door, denied entrance, because they weren’t men; a few minutes of discussion cleared up the issue, as the part of the club we were meeting in was not part of the “Men Only” Club proper.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Confessions
A Parallel of Mischievous Incidents
So to avoid writing too many stories separately, I will just put it all together into one. You need to know that my weirdness was coming probably from being so kind of a spoilt, but a good child. Spoilt in a very weird manner the meaning of it all with an imaginary that for a very long time was my only world that I truly walked until the day, I fell in love for the real, and first time, and lost my best of the soul that was truly mine.
By Lightness4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Unknown Man
You talk of pessimism and venom. I drown out your nasty thoughts. I can’t. I can’t listen to one more angry, sad, frustrating, dumb, horrible, evil, thing you heard recently. It is always the same, just switch a few words around. You sound like a tape recorder, repeating the same information every time I see you. If you had anything positive to say then things would be different. That's of course you make time to talk about anything other than corruption and spite.
By Rambler's Society5 years ago in Confessions
