I wanted to provide to a practical guide for aspiring female entrepreneurs on the skills to start developing as they plan their entrepreneurial jump from their day jobs Volunteer to fundraise for your favourite Charity When it comes down to it, a large part of starting and becoming successful as an entrepreneur is the ability […]
A stranger visited my house.
He entered without notice.
Inside my room without a doorbell.
He visited when the stars were on duty.
Unannounced at dawn when all birds were mute and the wild asleep.
When my bedroom light was off and my neighbor’s door locked.
During the midnight hours, dark and cold.
The only night in a dream with a lover of my past.
This night you choose to visit.
He tried to wake me up but I refused.
He cut my window net but I didn’t.
He tried to look through but I didn’t.
He later slid my window sharp, opened my window curtains.
I did not wake, I guess who can’t stop a dream with a lover of the past.
Disappointed as he was, decides to leave me alone.
Left with a gift to tell me he was here.
He might have looked very familiar but unknown.
How generous I was, In he came with nothing but out he went with gifts.
He left with a Samsung Tablet and my wallet.
Being so good, he dropped my wallet.
He left me those he thought I would need.
My ID and Insurance card.
How generous I would if I had known when he will leave.
Please leave your name and number next.
Note: Part one of my husband’s story appears here: I had a nightmare: on the Duggars, Christianity, and abuse.
My mother-in-law touched down in Salt Lake City like a tornado twelve hours after I called–reluctantly–to inform her that her son is in the hospital with a mysterious illness.
“It could be meningitis,” I told her, though deep down I knew the culture would come back negative.
That morning, when I woke up to an empty pillow on my husband’s side of the bed and a voice mail from an ER in a suburb forty minutes away, I dry heaved before I hit play, envisioning a morgue drawer sliding open and me saying, “Yes, that’s him.” I was certain he had careened off the road or crashed his Honda FIT into an electrical pole.
For two weeks, he had succumbed to mysterious “spells,” crossing his arms over his chest…
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Confession: probably my biggest pet peeve on the planet is when people start a question with “Am I the only one who…?” No. You’re not. You’re not the only one who writes that way, reads that way, likes that food, likes that band, thinks Benedict Cumberbatch sounds like a Game of Thrones character or looks like someone squeezed Spongebob and stuck googly eyes on him…you’re just not. But. There’s a different kind of “Is it just me?” feeling, and that’s the stress of when you’re drowning in something and nobody’s talking about it and you feel like everyone’s got it together but you, and so you don’t wanna say a thing, and it all snowballs until you basically wanna curl up and die. I know that feeling. It’s why I wrote this post after splitting with my first agent. So in case you are wondering any of these things, I…
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