To be honest, Seau and Hernandez gave me quite the scare.
For a long time, I believed this was my burden to bear.
But alas, my recent endeavors have made me aware,
That this journey is my gift to share.
One minute and forty seven seconds…
Shattered glass litters the floor, and clumps of crab meat cling to the wall. Tattered rose petals wilt on the once golden carpet, a small fire from a fallen candelabra has scorched a tablecloth, and one solo black pump rests abandoned on the dance floor.
Police sirens blare…
With fumes of cheap beer hovering in the air, and music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts, I sit fidgeting in the corner of the room on a janky couch, alone.
Until she catches my eye.
Her golden hair swings down her back in two French braids.
Harsh fumes from burnt snickerdoodle cookies engulfed the living room, but the fighting had finally stopped.
As I fight for fresh air in the smoky room, I stretch out my legs, cover myself in a fuzzy blanket, and slouch prostrate onto the living room couch.
Finally, a moment of peace.
I want to rip my fucking hair out!
A vanilla candle illuminates the beige walls of my bathroom as I stand on my furry blue bathmat lost in my own reflection.
I peer into my dark brown eyes. They glare back at me. Taunting me.
I look away and gaze…
Part I. Jane
With each agonizing step, blood seeps from my wound and trickles onto the dry dirt.
Come on Jane, it’s right there, maybe 50 more steps.
You’ve come this far.
Don’t stop now.
My torso burns and my legs nearly collapse from under me, but I lug myself…
1. I lava you so much.
2. We are mint to be together.
As the writer of The Hand Maid’s Tale, Alias Grace, The Edible Woman, Surfacing, and many other literary masterpieces, Margaret Atwood has used her uncanny ability to delve into the oppression of women to develop an astounding collection of fictional literature.
Yet, as talented as Atwood is, she admits to…
Lost in my research, I lean forward hovering over mounds of data scattered across my desk.
As I complete my final calculations, my heart races.
"Oh my God. OH MY GOD!" I wail audibly.
No calm down. One final check, Walter, don't get ahead of yourself.
After escaping the brutal conditions of Pol Pot’s communist Cambodia, Ted and Christy Ngoy defied the odds, became multi millionaire entrepreneurs, and lived happily ever after.
Until they lost it all.
Here are some lessons from the rise and fall of the Donut King and Queen, Ted and Christy Ngoy.