Brilliant Blog Share

I am only 24 years old, yet I have actually already chosen my last tie. It’s  the one that I will wear on my funeral  a few months from now. It may not match my suit, but I think it’s perfect for the occasion. The cancer diagnosis came too late to give me at least a tenuous hope for a long life, but I realized that the most important thing about death is to ensure that you leave this world a little better than it was before you existed with your contributions . The way I've lived my life so far, my existence or more precisely the loss of it, will not matter because I have lived without doing anything impactful. Before, there were so many things that occupied my mind. When I learned how much time I had left, however, it became clear which things are really important. So, I am writing to you for a selfish reason. I want to give meaning to my life by sharing with you what I have realized: Don’t waste your time on work that you don’t enjoy. It is obvious that you canno...

A happy little thought about my husband – by Rocket_owl Posted on  April 17, 2015  by  Kindness Blog  http://kindnessblog.com/author/thekindnessblog/ Last night while asleep in our bed my husband let out a startled moan. I then felt his hand patting the comforter – searching for me. It came to rest once it found my side. I realized I LOVE that: Despite the fact he is a 28-year-old, dirty hand working, beer drinking, beard growing man. Despite the fact he sleeps with a baseball bat beside him because he knows it makes me feel safe. Despite the fact he served 5 years in the army which included one tour to Afghanistan.  I’M  the one that protects him from bad dreams.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015  This post is from my friend Cee Que  who is a terrific poet and writer,as I am sure you will find when you read her words below. Happy 21st Birthday, Joey!!! I cry at these milestones because it reminds me how fast the years have gone by...I don't think my Joey knows I wrote this poem for him a while back... Family Portrait - 2008 - photo by  Peter J. Crowley Batang Lalake (Baby Boy) his speech lagged at three born with babies crying in his ears now man-heavy  his voice: bass and harmonica  as if he were bobbing and reading  sheet music at the same time woolly mornings and stretched tight nights overcrowded him gruff tree against the realm— my boy at man's threshold determined to etch on his coat of arms permanent ink of love and mirth no yardstick no barometer, just him over there in the heart of the labyrinth More of CEE QUE's work can be found  on  http://you...

This wonderful, gentle, yet thought provoking post has been written by Sherrie De Valeria It is here, on this blog  https://sherriedevaleriahendrie.wordpress.com where Sherrie  writes her personal blog, some small writings that comes from the Heart, perhaps some poetry or just anything that inspires, is funful and of full of hopes or dreams. I walk silently toward the windows, holding my dark green mug of coffee and sipping this slowly. The heat rises from it and the scent overpowering the room with its dark perfume – coffee is holy. I cannot imagine starting my day even without a small drop of caffeine in my vein, otherwise, my whole system would disfunction and break down. Funny me, but I am. The darkness is lifting and I watch a thin shaft of scarlet orange and lavender has creased over the horizon, setting the fields of grasses on fire with it glorious morning light. I pause and bow my head, saying my thanks as that is my habit to praise and praying that my d...

This is an amazing story, the rawness of pain & hurt resonate with every word. This is the true story of  A.F. Marie-Ann. I appreciate her braveness in writing this personal essay I am a rape victim. Those five words were harder to write than I thought, let alone accept the fact that it happened. To me. It’s been four long years and I am still trying to live with myself. Still trying to believe that this is what I survived, and not a movie I watched on a Sunday evening. It’s been four years and this is what happens after rape. Days felt like nights and nights felt like days. I could not differentiate between the two; everything from that point on was complete darkness. Not because I didn't want to, but because I emotionally and mentally shut myself off and, as such, the days became one big blur. I was lonelier than ever. I was trapped inside my own head. All the “what if’s” and “what could’ve been’s” I tortured myself with when I was damn sure that it...

This wonderful story has been written by Allan Hudson It won an honorable mention in the Kyle Douglas memorial short story contest, sponsored by New Brunswick Writers Federation. Despite those accolades! I thoroughly enjoyed the factual and humane elements Allan has seemingly woven into the tale. Please do not credit me, but Allan himself  at http://allanhudson.blogspot.ca/ where you can also read more of his works. The  Neptune Giant  is a VLCC, a very large crude carrier . When it was completed in 1979, it ranked among the largest oil tankers in the world. From bow to stern, 75 Cadillacs could park bumper to bumper. The crews used bicycles to travel the elongated deck. With a beam of nearly two hundred feet, five bungalows could be placed lengthwise side by side across the deck; her keel is six stories underwater. The raw steel is covered with over fifteen hundred gallons of paint. She’d been given a lifespan of thirty years; i...