And it’s crushing us.
“Dear Ms. Corkern, your child is missing assignments.”
Okay, but we’re just now getting our footing with these 14859437 new programs and passwords, so despite his best efforts, he’s not fully caught up, especially since we had two days of troublesome internet and it took several conversations with our internet service provider to have them resolved.
“Dear Ms. Corkern, your child lost internet connection again, and one of the requirements for virtual learning is stable internet connection.”
It is a privilege to have stable internet. One not everyone is afforded. Virtual school is not an option…
You say life begins with a heartbeat, but does mine no longer beat to keep me alive. Am I not a person?
My life matters more.
There, I said it.
The life of the born trumps the unborn
unless the woman bearing the unborn child, who is flesh of her flesh and feeding off her flesh,
living only because of the born woman,
the one who was once unborn, who exists by the grace of her mother, says otherwise.
There is power in our ability to bring forth life,
power men have feared for years and years
that’s why they…
Eight months ago was the beginning of the end of the world as we know it.
My kids are still home. From school. Since March.
They miss their friends.
They spend too much time on devices but what the hell else are they supposed to do?
We are getting ready to head to a drive-by Birthday party, because that’s how we do birthdays in the pandemic.
We wear masks to the grocery.
If we dine out, it’s al-fresco, but mostly we get food delivered.
If we can even afford a luxury…
I was born and bred to be a Trump supporting Evangelical. I know them and their beliefs inside and out. I understand the insidious nature of the religion, and I’m here to tell you, evangelicalism, and all monotheistic, narrow religions are the enemy of progress, the enemy of anything good.
In the name of God, wars have been waged, guns have been fired, bombs have exploded and people keep dying.
They fight against their fellow man, for a being they cannot see, some eternal life that isn’t guaranteed.
I know because we are taught to fear that even if we…
My sister is dead. How can I sleep?
The thought plagues me as I try to close my eyes. My sister died. My sister, she died.
The words don’t seem real, yet they’re all too familiar like I’ve rehearsed this moment in my mind another time, another place. Did I? Or do we really live in the matrix in some twisted, fucked up time and space
Continuum. That was a good show.
Please read my rhymes, please hear the flow.
In my words.
I write because I’m afraid to speak even though speaking would give me some plausible deniability. …
Before we start, here’s me, in a nutshell:
I’m a Hamilton, an Ennegram 8, an ENFP but really an ANFP because I’m an ambivert. I’m a Ravenclaw who is ashamed of JK Rowling, but I still appreciate what her work did for a generation. I can hold both things in tension. I’m a thinker, a healer, a tender heart, a deep feeler. I come from generational poverty and was raised by a single, disabled mother in the 1980s, and I spent most of my life in Evangelical Christianity. …
And it’s your Christian duty to vote for him.
I have endured a lot of medical pain in my life. A ruptured appendix, gallstones, childbirth, a broken ankle to name a few.
But nothing comes close to the pain I experienced when I was 10 weeks pregnant with my miracle baby.
You see, my son Dylan was conceived just 11 months after my second born, who was conceived just 13 months after my first born.
Me, a 32-year-old white, married, college educated (though I never graduated) woman found herself pregnant unexpectedly.
“Don’t you know how this all works by now?”…
This isn’t about lipstick.
Wear the goddamn lipstick, I told myself.
Wear the lipstick.
You’re only here for a little while.
One day, no one will ever see you smile.
Wear the lipstick, if that’s what you choose.
Who cares if it’s not “your” style. You make the rules.
You don’t like lipstick, okay that’s fair. Let’s do some new analogies.
Apply for that job. Write that book. Climb that mountain. Tell that girl you love her.
Still no good, let’s get generic:
Follow your heart. Chase your dreams. Take the leap. Carpe diem!
We only get a blip…
Because I am
“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.” -Lin Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton and I relate to this line more than any other line in any other production.
About 4–5 years ago, my entire social media was inundated with posts about the must-see musical, Hamilton. And I recoiled.
First, I’m a rebel. If something is too popular, I assume its a fad, a trend, something lacking depth. It’s the Gen X in me. I’m working through it in therapy.
Second, I don’t like musicals. Well, that’s not entirely true. I don’t like most…