Sometimes writing a story, even for those who write often, can come to a stand-still. The mind freezes. The pen hovers over the paper. Nothing happens. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. What do you do? Especially if there is a deadline, and the writing must be finished? Obviously, that pen in hand can form words onto the paper. So why not just make it move? Curling out the letters, spelling out the words? Telling the story? Why not? Maybe, just maybe, it's because the mind that forms the story thinks that story will not be good. Thought after thought, reason after reason, picture after picture, and still none of it is an improvement to the mind. The mind just hurts, trying to reconcile to the story. The pen hovers. Then scribbles. Jagged, frustrated, wordless lines and swirls. Then the pen is set aside, the paper pushed away, and the author crosses their arms and stares off. The sun reaches through a window, leafy branches make shifting patterns across the table. The scribbled paper slips off the edge of the table with a sigh, then clicks on the wood floor and lies flat. Still, nothing picture perfect comes to mind. No feeling, translated to words, seems like worthwhile, storytelling material. The author, uninspired, sighs. Who were they, anyway, to write a story? There's a lot of other things they could do besides writing a story. And who would actually want to read their story? Everyone's attention-span is shortened, right? In this age of constant scene changes, where TV shows swap camera angels every two seconds or less, who would care to hold paper in hand and actually digest a story, word for word, verbal description after verbal description? Let alone a story written by me. But wait. Maybe there's more to storytelling than just trying to please the general public. Just maybe. Maybe the story will only appeal to a few, but those few will be just the kind of people you would want to read your story. Because, obviously, they are in touch with what really matters. And what really matters? What really matters is time. Time to look around, to soak in and observe the world around. The ground we stand on, the sky we stand under, far far above, the food we eat, the sounds we hear, the nature around that moves so slow but wins the race. How marvelous, more than all that, is the creativity that stems from observing it all. Creativity that writes a story. Creativity that reads the story, and imagines the story as it flows. But still, still, the pen lays still on the table. The author still has their arms crossed. Still. So story telling is not to please the general public, but it might please a few. It might. So pleasing the few is not the goal either. It's just a bonus, not exactly a goal. Not THE goal. So why? Why tell a story? Why write it? What is the goal? What happens when you write a good story? How do you feel? Something inside you tells you the story is good, and you don't really care how you know it is good, you just celebrate. You feel centered. Grounded. You wrote a story, and it was good. Bring it. That's why. You write because you, beautiful, valuable, intrinsic you, are in that story. You are in that story, and when you write that story, you, in your brilliant image, will be revealed to yourself even more. So if you feel your story will not be good, then just write a not-so-good story. Even though it sounds gross, the best way I can think of to describe it is, just brain vomit. You will surprise yourself.

I recently had my tablet fall out of my modified cellphone tripod clamp. So I disassembled my current cellphone tripod clamp and discovered it had springs in both sides, where my modified clamp only had one spring. I solved that issue by taking three springs from non-functioning pens and put them in the second side. I can now shake the clamp with both hands and the tablet stays in place! That's innovation! I had labwork done yesterday to determine if I still have blood in my urine from the fall last week when the ladder broke under me. I did tell that story, didn't I? If not, I'll tell it soon. Now I'm waiting to learn the results, and if I'm going to need further testing, such as an MRI or a CT scan to determine if there is more damage to my kidney than bruising. After leaving the urine sample I stopped for photos and decided to try a photo of Mt Rainier viewed through my clip on telephoto lens. Definitely not the best photos, but I was able to salvage one through Snapseed editing. It is not perfect, but it is usable. Wishing you all a blessed weekend!

When I tell people I want to study classics, they give me weird looks. “What?” “That's so random.” And I agree; it's completely and totally random. Like many competitive schools nowadays, my classmates — including me — are hyper STEM-focused. Here, you'll find Robotics flyers posted on twenty-three different Instagram stories, enthused student officers screaming at you to sign up for Finance Club, news alerts about our national championship Math Madness team and the like. There's this newfound belief (read: pandemonium) that STEM education holds the key to a secure, prosperous future. And if the pop-up of private, $30k/year schools with STEM-focused, Advanced-Placement-driven curriculums aren't indicative warning signs, I'm not sure what is. A belief? Maybe. I think it's a madness. I've spent most of my time delving into the world of science and math. So I'm not knocking on the merits of STEM education at all; my chemistry research mentors and Science Olympiad advisors would be at the very least offended if I threw away their gifts of knowledge like that. Yet, there's something lost in the neglecting of humanities; in a sea of future mathematicians, entrepreneurs, and engineers like myself, I can count the number of history/literary hopefuls I know on one hand. My interest in classics is recent. I've only just begun to delve into the two-thousand-year-old world, and I'm only starting to put together the pieces of the field's significance. For the most part, classics, like other non-STEM fields, is soothing. It's fun and interesting. I'm fully aware that there's genuine passion and fulfillment in crunching numbers and solving physics problems, but the arts and humanities just strike a different chord — one of free expression, boundless imagination, and infinite understanding. Unlike STEM, I believe classics is relevant in teaching the value of us — our past, our motivations, our fate, our dreams, our limitations — through the lens of myths. As Homer famously says in the Iliad, “Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is the man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.” Classics, unlike many liberal arts fields, draws value in stripping away deceptions and cloaks; it gives us raw anguish and emotion, dissimilar to modern works, which arguably encourage an understanding of complex historical context. But the field of classics is fundamental — there is nothing prior, only other myths in context. As the basis of Western literature and really, civilization, classics is incredibly crucial to unlocking the secrets of famous works. T. S. Elliot's well-known “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” makes clear references to Hesiod's Work and Days and opens with Dante's Inferno — the latter of which literally features Virgil throughout. Elliot also makes references to Shakespeare's Hamlet, which cites the Fall of Troy (the Aeneid), among other allusions I definitely missed. Mind. Blowing. (Or am I just a nerd, and this epiphany only surprising to me?) I imagine the average Biopage reader is well-read; if not specifically in classics, at least with contemporary literature, modern journalism, and the sort. It's something I aspire to be. And for me, and all my fellow science nerds, perhaps the best way to find ourselves is by reconnecting with our roots — even if it's old, dead, white men.

Once upon a time, a man named Paddy dug in the ground to harvest his crop, and found rot. Black, putrid rot. After digging more and more, he only found more of the same. He grabbed up a handful of what was supposed to be a potato, and, after pondering for a second, he suddenly and violently threw it; a long, hard throw, further than he thought he could throw, with fierce, clear adrenaline kicking through his body. But as he looked after his hurled piece of rot, his eyes focused on the Irishman's spear to the side. The landlord's men. A miserable, merciless, loveless lot. Now. Today. Coming to his house. Dropping everything, he turned and ran, faster than he thought he could run, up the hill to his humble stone cottage. He arrived there just as the men came riding at a swift jaunty pace into the hard-packed dirt front yard. His mind was on one thing. He neither turned nor stopped his pace, but hurled himself into the house and straight to that one thing. Along with a few last coins, he grabbed that one precious item, and ran far out back and, digging with his hands in the dry soil he placed that precious thing in the ground and threw some dirt over it. Then, turning, he saw the men ram rod the stone walls of his house. Stones fell and thudded inside the cottage, and he felt his heart thud with them. Like a wild man he wanted to run and fight them all, running into the midst of them like a one-man nightmare such as they had never seen before. With a roar the thatched roof went up in flames, and deep inside him something roared with it. But before he launched himself from his locked trance, heaven's gates swung open, and with a wild rush, it let loose its tears. All was thickly veiled with gray, fast falling, drenching, pouring. Quickly he turned, and threw himself on the ground, over his precious item shallowly buried. When the heaviness dwindled into a light drizzle, he lifted himself from the ground and turned to gaze at the landlord's work. The landlord's men were gone. Tumbled stones and piled ashes dark, damp and glistening held close the earth. Sifting smoke stirred up from it, lifting softly, sweetly, sorrowfully, like a soul leaving a young body, prematurely. And he felt his soul going with it, lifting, drifting, sifting. But not dead. Yes very much alive. More alive than many a living thing. Grief struck deep into his soul, the truest grief, yet not a tear he shed. Sorrow stung his heart, yet still, he rose upward. His precious item buried, he bent and dug it up. There it lay, like a small, premature casket, a narrow wooden box painted black, as long as his arm. His soul was in there, or, at least, a prime defining feature of his soul. Though it lay in a dark box, it was not dead. In fact it was one of the greatest defiers of death. Opening the box, Paddy pulled out his fiddle.

The moment I was brought into this world, I was instantly branded developmentally-stunted, narcissistic and lazy. Apart from being a lethargic preemie (who forced doctors to take him out weeks early), my other crime was being born in the 80's. While newer evidence from psychology (mercifully) defends my generation as suffering from the dual struggles of discovering identity while enduring growing pains of the most rapidly-changing socioeconomic environment in human history, impulsive prejudice built up against Millennials towers over us like Mount Olympus (which, ironically, few detractors would ever climb such pre-conceptual heights to find out whether we fit their expectations). To our elders, strangers (elder strangers or was it strange elders?), we would instinctually be graced as “Generation Me”. Deep in my bones, I knew I wasn't this kind of person. Much of the joy in my youth, for instance, came from volunteering at the hospital or performing songs to soothe weary audiences of their troubles. Partying was a worthless social obligation (starting with boredom and ending with anxiety for the time I wasted). Whether my young mind knew it or not, I was determined to be something other than the selfish, entitled brats Gen Me were destined (by society) to be. It's probably why, at 24, I faced a quarter-life crisis. Days before my 25th birthday, I was unstoppable. Fresh off of earning my black belt in Shorin Ryu karate (a feat some believed beyond me), I raced to the wall in my room, placing the half-English, half-Japanese certificate above my ARCT in piano performance and my medical science degree. I gazed up at my trinity gleefully, only for my pride to vaporize instantly. I had accomplished nothing. Emptiness welled up inside me as I questioned the truth behind those certified proclamations. For all the blood, sweat, tears, time and effort I had poured into those milestones, my patient friend, Walter, from my hospital days (who always blessed me as a ‘good man' whenever we parted) was still dead. My musical performances were little more than transient pleasures. But shaking me most was that a tech at school (I had just finished my 3rd year of pharmacy) died suddenly from cancer. Surrounded by medical practitioners - and all we could offer were our sincerest condolences. Her death was the last straw: fueling me to choose cancer to cure since there's not a single person whose life hasn't been touched by the disease. Unfortunately, continuing to champion destructive treatments (yes, even Nobel Prize-winning immune therapies) in this civil war against our distorted cells (or selves, as it were) will still claim 1/4 of all Canadian cancer patients. With the impending arrival of the largest cancer patient population in history (due to aging baby boomers), 1.2 million baby boomers will die while the luckier 3.5 million boomer survivors will be forever cursed by a myriad of progressive chronic diseases. Three guesses whose generation bears this other impossible burden. Einstein once wrote: “A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move towards higher levels”. To me, the answer was easy: non-destructive cures. If cancer isn't threatened, it won't desperately evolve against treatment. Sadly, humans have been killing cancer for centuries. Researching otherwise would be like growing a third head (a second being normal by contrast). Witnessing my (supposedly superior) assessor degrade patients with outdated data for her ego proved that my field also wasn't a solution. This left me one avenue to convey my theories somewhat seriously. Sci-Fi. The sting of incredible backlash still ails me to this day. My parents called me crazy. My colleagues shied away from my radical logic. Even my girlfriend dumped me, thinking I'd choose writing over pharmacy. All they saw was another selfish dreamer enticed by fame and fortune. All I could dream about were a hundred thousand terminal Canadian cancer patients pleading for euthanasia each year. What else could I have done? I shut out my heartache: setting out alone to show people that non-destructive cancer cures can solve this imminent medical genocide. At times I wonder whether publishing Destructive Salvation was worth it. I struggled through rejection, isolation and dark times when I believed my passing might be better on my parents. But in my waking nightmares, I uncovered strength within me: pushing me through crippling anxiety and fatigue I once thought unconquerable. Regardless of my gains or losses, my fire burns brighter than ever to make non-destructive cancer cures a reality. Whether my novel makes a difference is not just up to me anymore, (though I have faith good people will agree with me and want to help). In the meantime, my promise to all cancer patients past, present and future still stands: I'll never stop fighting to cure this disease properly. Not a bad calling for defying one's (preordained) destiny.

I live less than an hour away from San Francisco, a lively city in California that is known for its cultural attractions, diverse communities, and world-class cuisine. However, the city that I actually live in is Fremont, California. Our community loves to stay in our comfort zones and children commonly follow their parents' footsteps regardless of their individual passions; Fremont is much more low-scale than San Francisco for obvious reasons. Parents love to shelter their children from the cruel dangers of the world, while the children work hard not for their own aspirations, but for what society tells them will lead to a prosperous and stable life. But I do not fit in with this common ground; I would rather invest in risks, speak with expression, and follow my own passions. But strangely enough, this exact conservative and sheltered environment around me is what sparked the courage in me to be who I am today. People often fear the unknown, but to me, unfamiliarity is simply an opportunity to confront the topic and further expand my knowledge. Most people in this community insist on staying in their comfort zones and doing only what their parents declare as satisfactory. But I also found another common quality among my peers in Fremont; they all developed a vapid personality and lacked personal motivation. After contemplating these two common traits, I finally made the connection that these students don't have their own dreams and aspirations, but simply follow a hollow path that has no connections to their true passions. Ever since that discovery, I set my own goals where I must confront obstacles and risks with courage, explore different career choices to determine my true passion, and always act on my ethics and beliefs so that I can truly live life to its fullest. My family, friends, and teachers all see that I have an aura of positivity, compassion, and empathy in me that is not present in most students of my age. I use my school's reading sessions to go to the Special Education classrooms and socialize with students diagnosed with developmental disorders. I know that deep down, each and every one of these students is astounding and beautiful, and I do the best I can to bring what they have to the surface. I will always contribute to my city in beneficial ways, from tutoring elementary school students and standing up for what is right, to helping the mentally unstable students in my school. I have an indestructible desire to improve everyone's lives, and I believe that staying informed and always wanting to learn is an essential to improvement. Valuable creations have always been captivating to me, and I am eager to investigate if I can connect my vibrant spirit of empathy and compassion and utilize science to make great differences in our world. The city of Fremont has shaped me into the motivated, mature, and compassionate leader that I am today simply from displaying what will happen to me if I do not act with independence and courage.

It's impossible to get everything, what you want suddenly. When you are sitting in your room or lying in bed and thinking about what you want new phone because all your classmates, has it, remember that in lots of country, children are starving and dying, they haven't got water, you always complain that you haven't got new iPhone or haven't got boyfriend, or you're in high school and you haven't got car when everyone has it, oh really? You think it's important in life? Oh no, if you think like that then you don't know what real life is. Instead of this you must do anything for surrounding people, you have to help them as you can, even little, but do it, this act will have good results in the future.When you have possibilities you must use it for good deeds, are the poor people (for example my family) whose haven't got much money but, they are helping others as much as they can. You must appreciate them. This does not mean that you should not think about yourself, first of all you must love yourself, your soul, your pros and you have to correct the cons. You must believe in yourself. I think that in life belief in god and believe in yourself is most important. Human can everything, if they have faith and sincere desire. (Jemal Qarchkhadze –The Georgian writer). I believe in God and faith in God help me to believe in myself, I feel that whatever I will want to do, I will do it. I take every step of faith in God. If your inner voice tells you that you cannot draw, then you must definitely draw and the voice will be silenced. (Vincent van Gogh).Draw and officially confirm with everyone (including yourself) that you are strong and you can do everything. The second but, also important is love, it's very hard to find true love. Georgian well-known writer, Shota Rustaveli in his poem Vephkhistkaosani writes about love. He says that love is a heavenly feeling, love is something different, not incomparable with immorality. There is a big difference between them. Love isn't when you are with one at the first day and with another in second day. This is just a youth's fun and nothing more. He must be patient and be humble with her and vise versa. Shota Rustaveli is startled when people love each other and they are trying to dishonor each other. I agree with him, this is true love but not everyone is lucky. In my opinion in love, understanding, complementarity, mutual respect and loyalty is important. The creation of human's personhoods, virtues and idiosyncrasies begins with the family. Family members are people, who most of all know you, support you and are always ready to help you. The family must be circle where you feeling yourself comfortable. Majority of attitudes and characters is formed in the family. The child looks at the behavior of his parents and repeats it. In most cases, child becomes like parents. For that they say that a child is a family's mirror.You can see it with yourself, look carefully how they try to be like them. This more visible is in childhood and more less in youth. Before you decide to create a new life, think about it well. Ask yourself the questions: am I ready for this? What kind of mother / father will be I? What example will be I for him? and etc. And now I want to tell you about my family. We live in Batumi, Georgia, I have one sister and one brother, I am older then they. We have different relationship than others. My mother and father have overladen graphic. They are working, for our bright future. I want to be like my mom, even with 1/10. My father is man who is very strong, kind, honest, trustworthy. They say that the first-born daughter is like her father, I agree with them. In the family where such imitable people live, how can we grow up like bad moral person or delinquent? My siblings and I are not propensity to violence, drugs, bad things, hate and this is the merit of our parents. We every day talk about our day, we giving to each other advices and often take in account them. Maybe, I always quarrel with my brother and sister but, I always protect them in public, and I don't give anyone the right to distress or oppress them. I want only good things for them, that's why I often give them notice and advices,they don't like that, but I think that it's my obligation and for that reason I'm doing this. Of course, in life we need success; it's your assessment of your work, the reward that every person deserves. Some will succeed soon, and some need a lot of time. The main thing is not to give up and work-hard. You can use way of Trial and error. One of the main advantages of success is education and education; Every person observes life from their side. You can choose what type of person you will be, everyone have their own choice and truth. everything will come by itself when the time comes, the main thing is that Don't lose your, kind, loyalty, faith, love, friendship, family for success, you don't need money for happiness.

While most students were traveling the world or enjoying their time off from school during summer vacation, I was at home. Sitting in my room with the curtains closed, frequently refreshing my phone in hopes of seeing my schedule for the upcoming school year. I sighed and picked up a glass of orange juice to try and settle my nerves, praying that I wouldn't have the misfortune of getting the toughest teacher in my school: Mr. Smith. Throughout the previous school year, my older sister would come home every day and attempt to frighten me with anecdotes about Mr. Smith's seemingly impossible history tests or endless amounts of homework. “So what?” I responded cockily, “I get far better grades than you, why should I worry?” She paused for a moment. “You might,” she said, leaning towards me menacingly, “But he requires every student to participate in class, or else he'll get super mad. And we all know how much you love using your voice.” I grimaced. She was right. I hated speaking up. From asking questions in class to even calling my grandma on the phone, I never had the courage to speak my mind because of the fear that I would say something wrong. And whenever I did try to raise my hand to answer a question, the butterflies in my stomach would take over, and the overwhelming feeling of nausea would force me to put my hand back down. And I despised myself because of it. The fact that I couldn't start conversations with people, or order food by myself, or tell people what I really thought about their new haircut. So when I refreshed my phone for the millionth time and saw that my period three history teacher was Mr. Smith, I dropped my glass of orange juice and screamed. What if he asks me a question? I thought while walking closer and closer to his classroom, Or makes everyone stand up and share something interesting about themselves? But before I could answer myself, I turned a corner and arrived at his classroom. I peered inside through the open doorway and saw twenty or so kids sitting straight up like statues, their visages completely void of any emotion except for fear. Their brightly colored outfits contradicted the concoction of angst and misery in their eyes, along with the dismal atmosphere of the room. Large, colorful flags drooped down the achromatic walls as if they were trying to cover up the bleakness of the room. I sneaked in, careful not to make any noise, and gently set my bag down next to a seat in the back of the class. Suddenly, the bell rang and Mr. Smith slowly prowled into class, his tall figure looming over all of us while he glared into each and every one of our faces, until he took a seat on a stool in the front of the class. He stayed quiet for a minute before talking about his class expectations. “This class will not be easy,” he said, still scrutinizing our frightened faces, “besides having difficult tests and homework assignments, I require every student to participate.” I sighed and waited for him to say more. “I understand that most of you are scared of speaking up, but I'd like of you to think of it this way. Your voice is the most powerful thing you will ever own, and if you don't use it, you're simply letting yourself down. Who cares if you're right or wrong? What matters is that you tried.” I froze. And in that moment I had an epiphany that changed my life for the better. He was right: what's wrong with being wrong? I was born with the most powerful weapon in the known universe and for the past fifteen years of my life I failed to take advantage of it. Whether it was expressing my political opinions or asking questions about biology or astronomy or literature, I never once used my voice without the fear of saying something wrong. I never once considered that my voice was a unique gift that should be heard. I never once stood up for the ideas that I believed in. I never once truly used my voice. “Hey, you in the back,” I heard Mr. Smith say, stirring me back to reality, “What rumors have you heard about me and my class?” I smiled and eagerly began sharing with the class the stories my sister told me about Mr. Smith's rigorous history class. During the course of that year, I debated whether his class was fitting for me. After all, staying up late studying history is not the most ideal way for me to spend my weekends. But after receiving one of the highest grades in his class from actively participating, I can say that his class was the most enlightening I'd ever participated in. He taught me that a person's voice is more powerful than any weapon or army on the planet, and to not use it is the greatest harm one can do to oneself. I was recently assigned a school project asking what -- in my opinion -- the worst disability is. Blindness? Paralysis? It took me a while, but speaking from experience, I can say with certainty that the worst disability would be to have a voice, but not the courage to use it.

INTRODUCTION: Hi. I am Manisha. I am going to write a story on the topic of "A BRAVE WOMAN". This is my life story. She is the most important person in my life. She is a very brave woman. She loves and cares every on. Let us see her biography detailly in this mini-essay. BIRTH: She was born in 14/2/1976 in Kanyakumari district,. She has two brothers. She was very naughty in her childhood. Every day she used to get beat from her mother. But her father loved her the most. CHILDHOOD: She went to school but she was worst in studies. But however she struggled and finished her 10th standard, But next she had to take a important decision in her life. She had to choose correct group in 11th standard. Her parents asked her to take Accountancy because she was worst in studies. But she said that she will take only Maths Biology. She fought with her parents very much. For their daughters wish, her parents accepted her to take Maths Biology group. She finished 11th and started 12th. But she failed in 12th standard. First time, she lost in her life. Next she cannot clear exam in the school. So she started to work in the field in her village for few months. Next she joined the typewriting class and she finished shorthand and longhand. Next she went to college, but there also she failed. CHANGE IN LIFE: Due to her father's transfer in his office, their family shifted to another town. But there she stayed in her house without going to job. She reached her marriage age, but up to 28 years she did not get married. But In olden days, girls should get married at 23-25 years. But she did not get married. One alliance came at the age of 29. Her parents thought it would be right and they get married to that man. MARRIAGE LIFE: Like every girl she had various dreams and enter into her marriage life. But after few months, she came to know the character of that man. Her parents gave 104 pounds gold and 1lakh rupee in his hand. But he asked more money. He started to beat her everyday and asked money to get it from the parents. She faced many problems in her marriage life. In her home she was grown up like a queen but here she was like a slave. after some days, he went to foreign because he worked in foreign. Everyday in the phone, he used to struggle her. He seperated her from her parents too and kept her in seperate house. She was very upset with her marriage life. HAPPY LIFE STARTS: After one year, she gave birth to a baby girl. She was very happy with that girl baby. She started to live for her daughter. She started to reject her husband and came under her parents care. He got more angry on that. He stopped to sent money. She cannot understand anything and she was confused what to do next. Her parents supported her and help her in the financial conditions. Years went and her daughter grown up and went to the school. She joined her in a good school but the amount was very high. In that case also, she was very strong. She lost all her golds by her husband because he sold all the golds and used. STRUGGLES FACED BY HER: She also sold some golds for her daughters sake. After certain limit her parents also stopped to help her because they also don't have enough money to help her. After that with the help of one member. She got a temporary job in the town Panchayat. First of all, she faced went to the job. She struggled more in the office. Everyday she used to come and cry in the home. She faced more struggles. Little by little she came to learn about the outside world. . After some years, she got divorce and she became a single woman. Her daughter studied in that time. She even didn't get married again. She lived for her child. She worked in the office and started to save money for her daughter. She grown up her child with more care and love. CHILD'S LOVE: She and her daughter loved both very much. Both lived in the world happily. They shared all their secrets. They have a good relationship. She loved her daughter very much. Her daughter also with her support got so much awards. And her daughter also got award from President in Delhi. She was very happy with his daughter. CONCLUSION: At last, I am very happy to say that, "She was my mom", "A BRAVE WOMAN". I am very happy to write this because she is a very brave girl. And she grown up me as a single woman and she faced many struggles. Today I am very proud to say that I am the daughter of my mom.I am writing this, that every should get inspired by reading this story. Thank you. Please support us all. RESPECT WOMEN.

One of the things I have always told myself is that I am not just one thing. I feel like in this society, we as people tend to put labels on people, condensing them into these tiny boxes. I never liked that, I never understood it because we are constantly changing, constantly learning things about ourselves. It is human to evolve. We are a universe of secrets. I am more than one thing. But with that being said...I do like to label myself as an artist. I was undoubtedly created to create. That is my life motto and I will keep it until the day I die. Whether it's filming, dancing, writing stories and poetry, drawing, or taking pictures, I am always creating. I do not think I could ever stop. But unfortunately, there was a moment in my life where I did not create. I wanted to be a marine biologist actually. I loved animals, especially marine animals. I still love animals but when my sister and my nephew disappeared from my life, that wanting of being a marine biologist went away. I blamed myself. They are deaf while the rest of my family is hearing, which meant that the relationships they had with us were not the same as their deaf community. It was a toxic situation and my family wanted to get them out but my sister did not feel heard. She felt babied and she felt like we did not understand her. And she was right, I never really took the time to learn the language. I did not have as strong of a connection with her as I should have had and I blamed myself wholeheartedly for it. I thought that maybe if I had took the time to get to know her as a person through her language, maybe that could have made all the difference. I have never felt so worthless in a situation. I felt so empty. We got her and my nephew back but, it still bothered me. So down I went into this deep well of emotions that I did not understand at the time. I could not find any thing to hold onto. It was dark, haunting, and echoed all of the nasty words that ran through my head. I was alone. Until I found a pen. With that pen, I wrote what I felt. With that pen, I drew monsters, heroes, villains, whatever I wanted. All of those emotions were tumbling out of me in a way that helped me heal. It had its ups and downs. At one point, writing and drawing weren't enough. I still felt this ache in my stomach. I wanted it to go away so I started moving my body. I started teaching myself how to dance. I gravitated towards hip hop because it was harsh but fluid. It was hard hitting and a release of anger, sadness, and fear. It was like this dragon was sleeping inside of me for years until finally, it woke up and breathed this spark of passion within me. I kept it hidden for a while, especially in high school. It was my little secret. I wasn't the loudest kid. That's when the label “loner” became to be the word to describe me. But I kept my head down, made good grades, stayed close to my two best friends, created my art, and tried to be the perfect little Christian girl all of my teachers asked for. At my parochial school, I realized two things. You did not matter unless you were outgoing and played sports. And if you didn't sit back and listen to what they told you, you were an outsider. We were told what was right and wrong, not how to think for ourselves. We were not meant to question religion, just accept. I hated it deep down, but I did what I was told. I didn't think my school was too bad, but when a gay male was kicked out for posting videos on YouTube about his sexuality, my feelings about my school changed. From then on, my eyes were opened. I saw the misogyny, xenophobia, racism, and prejudice all too well. But I kept my head down, those empty feelings came back and so I created. I ended up directing my own play, which was the light at the end of the tunnel. I was almost…happy. Then all of sudden, it was time for me to go to college. I was asked to choose which art style I wanted to succeed in. I did not want to choose. I wanted to succeed in all. That is when I found the camera. I realized that you could captured anything in a camera. I could tell stories in a camera. I could dance in front of the camera and create characters that fought the bad guys. I could use all of the skills I had and in return create something bigger than I ever could have imagined. So now, I am in college. I met some good people, I am creating, and I will continue to create. But I am not yet completely happy. I will not be happy until I make my own production company with shows talking about representation of all races, genders, sexualities, and mental illnesses in a positive, entertaining, and educational way. That is my goal. Until then, I will keep learning about my craft and evolving as a person. And learn ASL along the way. You know, I used to hate the color yellow, but Van Gogh showed me its potential. To me, it has become a color that represents a sad, hopeful kind of happiness. I am still so far from being who I want to be, but I will get there with time. I will.

PROLOGUE: Earth represents the only planet known to support life. Such a manifestation, preposition and supposition (challenged as sophisticated telescopes peer into the farther reaches of the cosmos), nonetheless amazes this bipedal hominid. Additionally, that conjecture (undergoing securitization re: painstakingly now major leapfrogs kicked jarring impetus hundredfold greater futuristic established dogma) consider that said oblate spheroid constituent essential matter near in composition sans other planets in our solar system, and coalesced at approximately when sister and brother entities manifested through the same ethereal processes as every other planet, and also received energy (in a greater or lesser proportion) extant per those most distant or closest cosmic bodies from the sun. To a universal traveler, Earth may seem to be a harmless little planet in the far reaches of one of billions of spiral galaxies in the universe. Gaia describes an elliptical trajectory across an average size star of middling brightness and joined by seven other planets, which support no known recognizable life forms constituting the solar system. While this may be fitting for a passage from numerous prequels and sequel Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (among other entertaining out of this world page turners for estranged mortals feeling like outliers in this alien nation), by the late Douglas Adams, in the grand scheme of the universe, it would be a fairly accurate description. However, Earth is a planet teeming with vitality and is home billions of plants and animals that share a common evolutionary track. Eve ver since time immemorial innumerable questions furrowed the brow of man/woman kind such as the following. evidence may have been lost. Scientists have made significant progress in understanding what chemical processes that may have led to the origins of life. There are many theories, but most have the same general perspective of how things came to be the way random quirky phenomena overtook numbers (millions) linkedin kinetic jinxed illustrious happenings. An account of life's beginnings based on some of the leading research and theories related to the subject, and of course, fossil records dating back as far as 3.5 billion years ago designating the scientifically acceptable denouement viz Earth's Beginnings would be an infinite tome. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Never in my cow well LIX anniversaries of birth did I ever experience such an unseasonably warm February, March, April...September 018 (i.e. the date this anonymous mortal jotted down the musings peppering his inquisitive mind). Now my bio hazmat poise zen gruff feed dee doth Buzz with an apropos diversion, whence a short written interjection will proffer broad leafed brushstrokes qua lee fie ying yours truly to draw inquisitive onlookers. Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth when Earth completed one thousand nine hundred and fifty ninth orbitz round the sun. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with his proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells.This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, delighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to being permitted to cradle said infant nada so terrible. Though born (agh gin in Cincinnati, Ohio), this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. He attended first at half of second grade at an elementary school in the former place name. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, I (thine older - boot not necessarily wiser self - watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games.Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility per being on the receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail, yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal parts ultimatums and evil scathing expletive filled lectures.

When I look at the sky, I do not see a universe being friendly to me because at that time, I stand out of the world of material prosperity surrounding me to imagine the world where the beacon light of humanity has turned into the twilight of devastating terror. At that time, I see my wings being cut by the ever-lasting knives of injustice, I hear the noises of crying mothers, voices of children fighting against poverty and hunger and see the faces of leaders who died for change. So, I have to gather my entire courage to see the sky as it always turns out to be a fearful situation. My dawn happened to be in a small country in South Asia where grades are important but creativity is not. However, I am not the reflection of my own community. I have a persistent aim to grow my creativity in Physics but I do not know where my strong current of desire will take me. So, when I see the sky, not only the beauty of twinkling stars hit my eyes, I also see an infinite collection of matter expanding every second. When I see the sky, I see the space-time making everything relative, the moon and satellites as my destiny, and the cosmic radiations transmitted by every stellar object but some questions confuse me like what makes so many stars attach as a single galaxy despite such low gravitational force? Then, when I get the answer to my own questions, I get mused and question myself what makes people afraid to choose fields like Physics where many things are still inexplicit? Does everyone fear with the fear itself? Don't they get support who dare? Also, I question myself, why is society making me believe that I cannot discover new? Then, I cannot answer my questions and feel down-hearted. So, my encounter with the sky isn't a mere vision but an encounter to despair and desolation. When the sun begins to set, the red color appears. When I see the sky at that time, the red color is agitated in my eyes and a new image is framed in my mind. I see the red river of blood originated through the crooked desert of politics and formidable faith over religion. I see people dying for their rights, being shattered for their freedom, paralyzed by the whirlwinds of disparity and their family crossing the doors of the judicial court to beg justice. I see some protestors who stake their life for others but are threatened in front of the law. Then, I start to mumble, the sky is not friendly to me. When I see the sky at night, I see eternal darkness which has even touched the mankind. I cannot differentiate that darkness with the inseparable problems of humanity like the problems of refugees, climate change, poverty, hunger, murder, rape, political dominance, water scarcity, etc. They revolve in my mind and I get staggered again. When I see the sky, I look at every star and realize that they change their brightness, position and habit every time. This makes me conscious about the fact that the world is changing all the time and we must embrace the change to withstand the inconsistent humanity. Yet many people do not have the heroism to try new and we are still bounded by the orthodox believers of society. So, when I see the sky, I have to compare a billion numbers of stars to the billion numbers of people and conclude that if there was a single star shining between the dark sky, the sky would not be as beautiful as now. So, every time I see the sky, I do not only see the little white dots on the black background; I see the whole world adjusted between my eyes. Unfortunately, that makes me sad, as I have to compare it to the darkness of mankind and adversity of this world. Then, the sun rises again with a hope that there will be a new beginning and the darkness will be banished by the power of light. Every day I get a new inspiration that the sun alone can defeat the eternal darkness but the fearful situation appears again. Again, I see the misery of humanity and the darkness that has touched our world but I cannot do anything except making my heart as heavy as the cloud. So, my relationship with the sky is a deep relationship that makes me realize that someday I will have to stand on the battlefield for change.

My name is Treasure - Treasure Joy. Though, it's been a journey discovering how exactly to treasure my inner joy. When I was twelve years old, I went to my first mental health clinic. My best friend called the police on me because she was afraid I would commit suicide, with all of the chaos going on in my family-life. I struggled with self-harming, which as I got older, transformed into coping through other addictive mannerisms. I was released on my thirteenth birthday with a new appreciation for the basic freedoms most people take for granted. I wish that was the beginning of the end of the calamity, but there was more beauty that needed to be discovered in all of my breakdown. Three days after my fifteenth birthday, I ended up blacking-out at a party my friend threw for me, and I was raped by someone I knew. I ended up going home that morning, told one of my other friends who was not there, and decided to get a rape-kit done the next day. My friend was out of town and couldn't drive me to the hospital until she got back, so if I wanted the rape-kit to collect the most evidence, I could not shower, brush my teeth, change my clothes, or brush my hair until I could get to the hospital. I think that was one of the most challenging adversities I've been through so far in life - to have the evil reminiscence of your perpetrator caressing your DNA, long after the moment had passed. After submitting the rape-kit, the authorities were contacted due to me being a minor. I reported my case, honestly, with a renewal of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the turning point I had been waiting for, but I was wrong. After a month of correspondence with the detectives, all correspondence between the police and I just stopped. After leaving texts, voicemails, and having my counselors try to get into contact with them regarding my case, I was informed that the case number I had was not anywhere in their records or files - it simply did not exist. My mother's alcoholism at this time was at an all-time high, and I was struggling to make it through school. My mother was behind on rent, barely pulling herself out of foreclosure, with hardly any food for us to eat. My father lived four hours away in a rural town. After becoming an outcast in school and losing hope with the authorities, I decided to visit my father for the first time in about a year, and upon visiting for the weekend, I decided I did not want to go back. I transferred schools, and enrolled into a home-schooling program, thinking THIS was going to be the turning point in my life. About six months into the move, I began displaying all of the symptoms of Bipolar Disorder. My father and his wife tried to help me on their own, but without professional help, it was no use. I ended up moving out temporarily on my own, which ended in failure. I was completely embarrassed, and decided to go back to my mother's. I quickly developed an addiction to xanax and alcohol, and soon found myself in another mental health clinic, being transferred to a rehab facility for three months shortly after. I celebrated my seventeenth birthday behind a cage, and promised myself that would be the last box I would ever keep myself enclosed in. I spent the next year struggling with my addiction after leaving rehab, only to end up meeting a stranger (who later became my abusive ex-boyfriend) whom, surprisingly, changed my life in the best way possible. This was my true beginning. I was offered the chance to assist his Cannabidiol company (CBD is the medical, non-psychoactive part of cannabis) with their launch. I even began taking the oil they sold for my mental illness, and was able to replace all of my medications with a small dose of their oil. It was the first time I did not have cravings, the first time I felt hopeful in years, and the very first time I was introduced to the concept of being an entrepreneur. I spent a year with the company after being a victim of unfair compensation and harassment, but I learned everything anyone would need to know to create a startup. I took my newfound knowledge and applied it to creating my own companies. After thousands of hours researching and persisting, teaching myself everything from library books and the internet, and a whole lot of blessings in disguise - I am now humbly considered an expert in my industry, and working with a hedge-fund to turn my dreams into an actuality. I like to think of myself as a lotus flower, because it took a lot of mud and harsh weather to help me blossom into the beautiful creation I am today. Looking back in retrospect, I don't think I would have done anything differently in my life because I've gained so much wisdom from it all, that whether my companies succeed or end in failure - I think I've gained the greatest treasure of all - more than all of the riches in the world could buy. I discovered what it means to finally believe in myself, and that's truly a Joy I will Treasure - forever.

Know Importance of Time? Time is such a Blessing of Allah that he equally distributes for each person. No one can claim that I have less time for this and that person. Either poor and a Rich both have the same 24 hours. First, make a perception of time in your mind? Whether Internal Links and External Links. Why do you fail to manage Time? Is it out of control? Or some other reason? Time such a precious thing in this world that is priceless. Time Management is just like Life Management. The problem starts when we think that we have to die and everything will end. And do nothing in advance. Remember one Thing Big people are Bigger than their life, their Time. Time is a Key to your success it depends whether you Lock or Unlock your life's activities Wisely. Since we have to learn how to make the best use of our Time? Key Tips, to Enhance your Skills in Time Mgt 1. How to Plan for Time Mgt? One Time is your Prime Time or a Gold Time, especially for students the prime time is at night when Res of the world is usually sleeping. Its different for all, and do your prime task in that Prime Time. Judge your Activities, three things are there Yourself, your family, your Social Circle. R you giving enough time to all? Especially male works all the time in offices, and spend whole time and wither they Give Quality Time to their Children? And your Isolation is also important, most people engage more to escape from their Isolation. You know Why? Because they don't want to recall that they can't realize their past or any unwanted thing that. But If you are using your time of Isolation you are Believe Me You are enjoying the real life with full colors. 2. PRIORITISE LIST OF IMPORTANT THINGS Written thing will Awake you that things thing you have to do to memories. Maybe your family tasks are important for the day, prioritize them. It might be possible your office work are important for the day. Or your friend is in trouble. You have to Pay attention to your Health and Fitness. Or you need Isolation for some time. You need to Charge yourself to set priorities, So do Justice with your Time. 3. Make a List of things that waste your time. Two things are there, Time Management is Issue for those, either you have more things to do and you take less time, Time, Or you have some few tasks but Time is More.So both have to manage in a better way to learn something new or professional. Little time is wasted by every person. But what lessons you have concluded from the Events of your Life are also Important. You know the Intelligent peoples of the world explains their tragedies and Good lucks later on. To conclude something meaningful and later on they realize the at everything is attached. And You know one Thing no Famous Person can Criticize someone. So if we are blaming something, and still have regrets, this is the sign that you haven't make the Best use of your Time. And that blaming habit will harm you and turns back to you again and again. 4. Play Most Effective Role is being Proactive, are those who prepare them self in Advance. Practice different things to manage something that how it is difficult. Students often think that after getting higher degree or medals we think that one repute job will be just waiting for us to open the door. But the time after getting a degree and between the job or point where we want to reach we totally waste our time instead of learning something. So, Be Proactive in your life, as Proactiveness makes you strong, active and helps you to utilize your Time effectively. Take some responsibility for managing an event or learning a new skill to discover the manger inside you. Management should be learned from every person. Every person should be a good manager to manage a Good life. 5. We have to Change our Mind Set Especially Girls are asked what you have to do the usually the answer is we have to marry. And the professional life is ended. We have to change the mind. Real Life example, If we say everything will end that we are actually dead inside before the Time. 6. At least do something extra, without pay for real satisfaction. Or at least prepare yourself to face something Always have Multiple options to do that if you are getting bored then do. Don't be too strict to your life enjoy it. And any day which you find, this day is not good, renew your planning and take a new start. Some Famous saying is that If someone has to do something, one Life is Enough and If he doesn't want to do than 500 Lives he has he can do nothing. So, if you have some goal, targets, and Allah has blessed you with Time so make the Best use of them. 7. Tip If you still have doubts that something will be waste do it like its Last thing for you. Don't wait for tomorrow do it today. Like it's a famous saying offer the prayer just like it's you are offering the last prayer. Time is also a blessing once it is passed it will never come back. So we need to Change our habits to use Time, our future will be change.

Dare to dream bigger and larger than you ever have before. Lifetime goals often are your most meaningful and important goals. However, one problem is that the achievement of these goals is usually far in the future. As a result, you may have trouble staying focused and maintaining a positive attitude toward reaching these goals. A career is one of the most important things in your life, and with the properly planned career and career goals, you will be able to achieve what you want from your career in the most efficient way possible. Tips for Setting Long-Term Goals • Be flexible with your goals. Instead, put your energy into pursuing other objectives. • Plan step by step what you can do right now. • Create a picture of where you want to be in life 10 years from now. • Think about what you need to do in five years, in one year, and in six months to get to your long-term goal. • After each monthly goal is achieved, look at your goals and adjust them as needed. • Set a personal milestone for yourself so you have something to work towards. Decide how to get to where you want to be. • Know your strengths and weaknesses. There are probably certain areas of life where you can better excel professionally than others. Here I am going to share with you five important goals that can be helpful for you as well. 1# Passionate about something We often have to choose professions at a very young age, and it's only natural that some of us will realize that they are no longer interested in their particular field after a few years. Have a passion for your goals and priorities them. Prioritizing means that you decide what is most important to you right now. All of your goals are important, but it's impossible to work on all of them at once. That you want to achieve like getting the higher degree. Setting lifetime goals gives you the overall perspective that shapes all other aspects of your decision making. Ask your self – What level do you want to reach in your career, or what do you want to achieve? 2# Goal for having a Financial Freedom How much do you want to earn, by what stage? How is this related to your career goals? Being part of a social group; having people to do things with; having close friends; making friends, drawing others near; having others to rely on 3# Improve your work life Balance The majority of people feel unsatisfied in the workplace. Usually, that is the result of too much pressure put on employees to improve performance while not receiving feedback or feeling valued. Doing the Right Thing - Like doing a good deed in your life. Caring for Others Care for others too. not just involve in getting your personal goals. To have empathy for what others are feeling; to listen to others; to make others happy or to please others. Make your goal to live life for others too. Stay motivated - Find someone to help you stick to your plan: a friend, co-worker, a job coach, or someone else. Discuss your goals, and check in with them when you complete steps. If possible, do the same for your partner! 4# Learning Specific Skills Is there any knowledge you want to acquire in particular? What information and skills will you need to have in order to achieve other goals? Do you want to achieve any artistic goals? “My goal right now is to find a position at a company where I can grow and take on new challenges over time and can build a career.” opportunities to develop my skills, take on interesting projects, and work with people I can really learn from. 5# Personal Choices Related to places you want to visit. The food you would like to try. The books you want to read. If you are a writer when you would like to launch your book. Or you can start your new business Own my own company . Introduce your brand. Developing a personal brand can help you gain respect and it can make you feel more involved in your work. Become Known as an Expert in Your Field To do that you'll need a strong presence and a powerful personal brand. And much more you can do. Many people are interested in creating something of their own, and if you are a visionary or have an entrepreneurial mind, then you definitely need to start your own business. But, to avoid having your company fail, make sure that you have all the skills and knowledge required before you take the leap. Conclusion Goals like these cannot be attained overnight. They require application and dedication to see them through to the end. “A dream is just a dream. A goal is a dream with a plan and a deadline.” Be specific about your goals. Don't scatter your goals by creating mess about many things that are difficult for your to accomplish. Set SMART goals that you can achieve after effective planning and focus one goal at a time. Be flexible in your choice if you confused about anything choose what is most important to you right now. As we cannot get anything as we desire so, change your focus on goals as your life changes.