Waking up. After all, when you’re over eighty, just managing to open your eyes counts as a victory!
Watching my wife wake up is like waiting for a pot of water to boil—there’s a lot of anticipation, a little grumbling, and eventually, we both realize it’s time for coffee!
A steaming cup of coffee: because staying awake for sixty years is truly an extreme sport, requiring a level of stamina, dedication, and sheer willpower that few can muster!
Waking up another day and realizing my only health issue is deciding what to write about today! The sun streaming through the window brings a sense of warmth and possibility, as I sit with my steaming cup of coffee, pondering the endless topics that swirl in my mind, eager to be transformed into words on the page.
Going to bed and thanking the Lord for another day on this earth, reflecting on the blessings received, the lessons learned, and the opportunities that await with the dawn of a new day.
Life has been good!
Daily writing prompt
What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
It is something I didn’t fully learn in high school. However, it was during the formative years of high school when I began to understand its significance and complexity. I witnessed how it shaped my experiences and influenced my interests, leading me to learn valuable lessons that became integral to my personal growth. Through various challenges and interactions with peers and teachers, I gradually realized the depth of this knowledge and its impact on my future endeavors.
Everyone wanted to drive. It was the first step to independence from your parents and a giant leap toward becoming self-sufficient, marking the beginning of a critical learning process when you would eventually be on your own. The open road beckoned with the promise of freedom and adventure, enabling young drivers to explore new places, make spontaneous decisions, and discover their own identities apart from their family. Each lesson learned behind the wheel was not just about mastering the technicalities of driving, but also about gaining confidence, responsibility, and the ability to navigate life’s challenges independently.
I received my learner’s permit on my sixteenth birthday, a milestone that filled me with excitement and anticipation, and just eleven days later, I bravely took the driving test and passed with flying colors, a feat made possible with the encouragement and guidance of my father. Before I reached this significant age, Dad would allow me to drive around the city during our outings, instilling in me a sense of independence and responsibility behind the wheel. We also had a wonderful family friend who lived on a farm, and our visits there became treasured adventures where I could navigate the rolling paths and winding routes amidst the vast fields of crops, feeling the thrill of freedom that driving provided. Driving home, Dad would gradually hand over the steering wheel to me on the freeway, allowing me to experience the rush of speeding along such a significant route until we approached the city, at which point he would take over to ensure a safe arrival. Naturally, the laws and regulations governing driving in the fifties were not as strict or comprehensive as they are today, which allowed for a certain level of freedom and exploration that many young drivers today might not fully understand; those were days filled with laughter, lessons, and experiences that one never forgets, shaping the core of my fondest teenage memories as I took my first steps into adulthood.
I cherish my dad deeply for his unwavering support in my journey of growth and for imparting invaluable lessons that are beyond the reach of any classroom.
As of April 9, 2025, measles is making headlines in Colorado, raising alarm bells among public health officials and residents alike. This highly contagious, vaccine-preventable disease, once nearly eradicated in the United States, is showing signs of resurgence. With three confirmed cases reported in the state this year, it’s time to take a closer look at what’s happening, why it’s a problem, and what we can do about it.
Colorado has seen a troubling increase in measles cases recently. The first case was confirmed on March 31 in an unvaccinated adult from Pueblo who traveled to Mexico, followed by an unvaccinated infant diagnosed on April 7 after a trip to Chihuahua. Most concerning is a third case on April 8 in Archuleta County—an adult with unknown vaccination status who hadn’t traveled outside the state, suggesting the virus may be circulating locally.
Measles is more than just a childhood rash—it’s a serious illness that can cause severe problems, especially for those who aren’t vaccinated. Symptoms usually begin with fever, cough, runny nose, and red, watery eyes, followed by a rash that spreads downward from the face. While most people heal, the dangers are significant: about one in five unvaccinated people who get measles may require hospitalization. For children, it can lead to pneumonia, brain swelling (encephalitis), or even death—up to three in every 1,000 infected kids may not survive.
The disease’s contagiousness is what makes it so dangerous. Measles spreads through the air when an infected person coughs or sneezes, and the virus can linger in a room for up to two hours after they’ve left. If 90% of unvaccinated people in that space are exposed, they’ll likely catch it. That’s why vaccination rates matter so much—when 95% of a community is immunized, “herd immunity” kicks in, protecting even those who can’t get vaccinated, like infants or people with certain medical conditions.
Colorado’s vaccination rates are dropping, posing a serious problem. For the 2023-2024 school year, only 93.7% of K-12 students were fully vaccinated against measles with the MMR vaccine, below the 95% needed for herd immunity. Some areas, like Archuleta County, report even lower rates of about 87%. Low vaccination rates are common across the state, particularly in rural districts and places like Boulder, where hesitancy persists despite high education and income levels.
Travel is another critical factor influencing the spread of infectious diseases. Two of Colorado’s recent cases were directly linked to international trips to Mexico, where outbreaks are still ongoing and health officials are closely monitoring the situation. With spring break season in full swing and summer travel quickly approaching, the risk of importing measles into the state—or exacerbating its spread within local communities—grows significantly. Additionally, Colorado’s diverse and mobile population, which includes residents and visitors frequently traveling for work, recreation, or family visits, means these cases might not remain isolated for long. As people interact in various settings such as airports, hotels, and public events, the potential for transmission increases, posing a challenge to public health efforts aimed at controlling the outbreak and ensuring community safety.
The Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment (CDPHE) is on high alert. They’re working with local health agencies in Pueblo, Denver, and Archuleta County to investigate these cases, identify potential exposure sites, and notify anyone who might have been at risk. For example, people who visited Southwest Deli and Cafe in Pueblo from March 17-21, Denver Health’s ER on April 6, or Wolf Creek Ski Area from March 28-30 are being told to watch for symptoms like fever or rash for 21 days after possible exposure.
The CDPHE is also pushing hard on vaccination. The MMR vaccine is 97% effective after two doses, and it’s the best defense we’ve got. They’re encouraging everyone—especially those planning travel—to check their vaccination status via the Colorado Immunization Information System (CIIS) and get vaccinated if needed. For infants 6-11 months heading to outbreak areas, an early dose is recommended, even though the standard schedule starts at 12-15 months.
Here’s how to keep yourself and your community safe:
Check Your Status: If you’re unsure whether you’ve had two MMR doses, ask your doctor or check the CIIS portal. Adults born after 1957 who got vaccinated before 1968 might need a booster, as early vaccines were less effective.
Get Vaccinated: It’s not too late. The MMR shot can even prevent infection if given within 72 hours of exposure. Pharmacies, clinics, and doctor’s offices across Colorado offer it, often at low or no cost.
Monitor Symptoms: If you’ve been to a potential exposure site, watch for signs of measles for three weeks. If you feel sick, call your doctor ahead of time—don’t just show up and risk spreading it.
Spread the Word: Talk to friends and family about vaccination. Misinformation has fueled hesitancy, but the science is clear: the MMR vaccine is safe and it works.
Will these three cases fizzle out, or are we on the brink of a larger outbreak? That depends on us. Colorado hasn’t seen locally transmitted measles since the mid-1990s, but with 607 cases nationwide this year—mostly tied to outbreaks in Texas and New Mexico—the threat is real. Texas alone has reported over 500 cases and two child deaths, a stark reminder of what’s at stake.
I remember when I had measles in grade school. It was a time filled with discomfort and frustration, as I felt utterly miserable and would not wish it on anyone. The rash that covered my body itched incessantly, and I found myself unable to resist scratching, which led to scarring on my forehead that lasted for a considerable amount of time. This particular spot became a reminder of my illness, a place where I scratched without fully realizing the consequences. It was one of the many childhood diseases one had to endure during that era. This experience took place before vaccines were discovered, leaving countless children to grapple with ailments that could have been easily prevented. My days were spent confined to bed, surrounded by the faint sounds of laughter from my friends outside, a stark contrast to the isolation I felt during that time.
The most positive change I made in my life is just being myself, embracing my unique qualities and characteristics without fear of judgment. By letting go of the need to conform to others’ expectations, I found the freedom to express my true thoughts and feelings, which has led to more authentic relationships. This newfound confidence has allowed me to pursue my passions wholeheartedly, celebrate my individuality, and inspire others to do the same, creating a ripple effect of positivity and self-acceptance around me.
For most of my life, I heard “you should be like so and so,” that constant refrain that acted as a backdrop to my formative years. Growing up, these words echoed from parents, teachers, and peers alike, often cloaked in the desire to guide me toward success and conformity. It seemed as if everyone had a blueprint for what I should aspire to become, and the pressure to fit that mold was unrelenting. Despite the well-meaning intentions behind these comparisons, I often found myself wrestling with my identity, torn between who I was and who I was expected to be. Each comparison, while sometimes motivating, more often left me feeling suffocated by the weight of others’ expectations. It wasn’t until I began to embrace my individuality that I realized the importance of defining success on my own terms, rather than merely mirroring the paths of those around me.
Now I am at ease, and I am just being myself, embracing who I truly am and the individuality that comes with it. It’s a liberating feeling, and I actually like myself, with all my quirks and imperfections. I find joy in the little things, appreciating the moments that make each day unique, and I’ve learned to celebrate my strengths while acknowledging my weaknesses. This journey of self-acceptance has allowed me to connect more deeply with others, fostering relationships built on authenticity and understanding.
Daily writing prompt
Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
The phrase “just be yourself, you were created to be yourself not someone else” is a powerful and inspiring call to embrace your individuality and authenticity. It suggests that each person has a unique purpose, personality, and set of qualities that define who they are—and that trying to imitate or become someone else goes against the natural design of your existence. In today’s world, where societal pressures and external expectations often push individuals to conform, this message serves as a vital reminder to honor and celebrate your distinctiveness. Each person’s journey is shaped by their experiences, passions, and dreams, which collectively contribute to their identity. Embracing who you truly are not only fosters self-acceptance but also encourages others to do the same, creating a ripple effect of authenticity and confidence. When we allow ourselves to shine in our true colors, we inspire those around us to break free from the constraints of comparison and judgment, ultimately leading to a more vibrant and diverse society.
At its core, “just be yourself” is like a friendly nudge from your inner couch potato, urging you to embrace your wonderfully weird self. It’s like telling you to kick societal expectations to the curb—who needs them anyway? Comparing yourself to others is so last season, and the quest for approval can be a real snooze-fest! Instead, why not celebrate your quirks, values, and the oddball passions that make you, well, you? It’s all about loving your delightful mess, flaws and all, rather than trying to be a cookie-cutter version of some glossy magazine superstar. Remember, pretending to be someone you’re not is just a fast track to the land of grumpiness, while living authentically is like jumping into a pool of marshmallows—just pure joy and fluff!
The second part, “you were created to be yourself not someone else,” adds a layer of intentionality. It implies that your uniqueness isn’t random or accidental—it’s deliberate. Whether you view this through a spiritual lens (a creator designing you with purpose) or a secular one (your individuality emerging from a mix of genetics, experiences, and choices), the message is that your existence as you has inherent value. Trying to copy another person’s life, traits, or path dismisses that value and assumes someone else’s blueprint is better than your own.
In practice, this could mean resisting the urge to conform just to fit in. For example, if you’re naturally introverted, you don’t need to force yourself to act extroverted to match a loud, outgoing friend. Or if your dreams differ from what’s trendy or expected—like pursuing art in a family of engineers—that’s not a flaw to fix, but a strength to own. The phrase reminds you that authenticity isn’t just allowed; it’s the whole point.
That said, being yourself doesn’t mean staying stagnant. It’s not an excuse to avoid growth or self-improvement. Instead, it’s about evolving in a way that aligns with your true nature, not someone else’s. It’s the difference between refining your own voice as a writer versus mimicking Hemingway because he’s revered.
Ultimately, this idea champions the beauty of diversity in humanity. If everyone was meant to be the same, the world would lose its richness, becoming a monochromatic existence devoid of the vibrant hues that individual identities bring. Your specific blend of traits, thoughts, and actions—imperfect as they may be—contributes something no one else can, creating a unique tapestry of experiences that enhances our collective journey. Embracing your true self not only fosters personal growth but also inspires others to do the same, generating an atmosphere of acceptance and understanding. So, “just be yourself” is both a personal liberation and a quiet rebellion against the pressure to be anything less; it is a powerful call to celebrate our differences and recognize that in our authentic expressions lies the potential for real connection and profound impact.
I have never been a book reader. I guess I was too hyper in my growing-up years to sit down and read a book. I would sit down to read, flipping through the pages with the intention of immersing myself in the story, but soon my mind would start to wander, darting off to thoughts about my friends, games I wanted to play, and the countless adventures waiting for me outside. It was as if the words on the page were mere background noise, and although I would be physically reading, my thoughts were elsewhere, imagining scenarios far more exciting than the one right in front of me. This struggle made it challenging for me to dive into narratives, leaving me with a nagging feeling that perhaps I was missing out on something special, an entire world that captivated others while I remained outside, restless and distracted.
My brother was and still is an avid reader, known for his insatiable curiosity and love for literature. I don’t know how many thousands of books he has read, as his shelves overflow with titles ranging from classic novels to contemporary non-fiction. Every time I visit him, I am amazed at the stacks of books he has accumulated over the years, each one carrying its own unique story and insights. I am beginning to wonder if he received the reading genes that I should have received, as I find it challenging to immerse myself in books the way he does. Perhaps there is something in his nature that drives him to explore different worlds through the pages, while I often struggle to focus for even short bursts of time. It’s a mystery to me how he manages to absorb so much knowledge and enjoyment from reading, whereas my attempts often feel like fleeting moments rather than an enduring passion.
Sometimes I have the strangest dreams, where the boundaries of reality blur and the impossible becomes palpable, weaving intricate stories that leave me questioning their origins as I wake, caught between the allure of the bizarre and the comfort of my everyday life. These dreams transport me to fantastical realms where gravity loses its grip and colors pulsate with life, inviting me to dance with shadows and converse with whispers of forgotten tales. In this surreal tapestry, I often find myself on the precipice of fear and wonder, exploring landscapes that defy logic, yet feel oddly familiar, as if they were fragments of my own forgotten memories. As I drift further into slumber, the lines between my day-to-day existence and these vividly twisted narratives continue to intertwine, drawing me into a hypnotic cycle of fantasy that is both thrilling and unsettling. I guess I should watch what I eat for supper.
I steady myself on the jagged cliff’s edge, the volcanic wasteland sprawling before me like a nightmare carved in fire and stone. The heat rising from the glowing fissures sears my skin even through your worn-out gear, and the ash in the air clings to my face, gritty and relentless. That low rumble grows into a bone-deep shudder, and a plume of sparks erupts from a nearby crevasse, showering the ground with flecks of molten light. The cliff groans under my weight, a hairline fracture spiderwebbing out from my boot—time’s not on my side here.
Below, the twisted metal spires glint dully through the haze, their skeletal frames half-buried in drifts of blackened sand. You squint and catch more movement: those shadows aren’t just tricks of the light. They’re humanoid, but their jerky, deliberate motions suggest they’re either desperate or deranged—maybe both. One pauses, head tilting as if it’s caught my scent on the wind, and a glint of something sharp flashes in its hand. Bandits, scavengers, or survivors gone feral; doesn’t matter—they’re trouble. Beyond them, a faint green flicker pulses from one of the spires, maybe a working power source or a trap waiting to spring.
MY satchel slaps against my hip as I shift, the weight of its meager contents a grim reminder of your odds. The energy cell’s got enough juice for a single burst—maybe to power a tool or fry something coming at me, but it’s a one-shot deal. The canteen’s metal is dented, water sloshing low, barely enough to wet my throat in this furnace. The comms device crackles again, spitting out a distorted fragment: “…sector breach… containment failing…” before it dies back into static. Could be a warning, could be old noise—either way, it’s not calling for help anytime soon.
That howl cuts through the air again, closer now, reverberating off the cliffs. I risk a glance over my shoulder and spot something loping through the ash clouds—a hulking shape, too big for a man, its outline bristling with spines or jagged plating. It’s not rushing me yet, but it’s circling, testing. The wind shifts, carrying a stench of sulfur and rot, and you realize it’s not alone; smaller shapes skitter in its wake, like pups trailing a predator.
The cliff’s fracture widens with a sickening crunch, echoing through the still air and sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins, forcing me to decide between dropping down toward the jagged spires below, where darkness lurks and the shadows seem to breathe with menace, or backtracking into the desolate wastes where that relentless creature is stalking my every move. The green flicker in the distance pulses again, a beacon of uncertainty that tempts me with the slim chance of salvage or a fleeting sanctuary, but I wonder if it’s a mirage, a cruel trick played by the landscape to ensnare me further in danger. My hand hovers over the energy cell, the weight of my choices pressing heavily on my chest, pulse hammering in my ears as I grip it tightly, trying to quell the rising tide of panic and indecision that threatens to paralyze me. What’s my play? Each option seems fraught with peril, yet the instinct for survival urges me to act before the cliff crumbles further, plunging me into deeper chaos. Fortunately, I woke up.
For about sixty-five years of my life, I have often been subjected to the same repetitive advice from various people, many times hearing, “Tom, you should be more like your brother, or you should be more like Johnny,” and so on and so forth. This unsolicited guidance felt like a constant echo in my mind, leading me to believe that my true self was somehow inadequate. I tried, in numerous ways, to mold myself into someone I am not, adopting the traits and behaviors that I thought would gain me approval or affection. However, this endeavor only deepened my internal conflict, creating a dissonance between who I genuinely am and who I was trying to become. In the end, this struggle to live up to others’ expectations weighed heavily on my spirit, teaching me valuable lessons about the importance of self-acceptance and authenticity.
During some private time while taking a walk around the neighborhood green belt, enjoying the fresh air and the sounds of nature, I suddenly heard a voice say to me, “Tom, stop trying to be someone else!” I looked around, scanning the area for anyone nearby who might have spoken, but there was no one in sight. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the sun filtered through the leaves, creating a serene atmosphere. The voice continued, “Tom, you were created to be yourself, just be yourself! Embrace your unique qualities and let go of the fear of judgment. Remember, the world needs your authentic presence; don’t hide behind a facade. Allow your true self to shine, for that is where your strength lies!”
I took this as a message I should be myself. Embracing my true identity has allowed me to break free from the constraints of societal expectations and pressures that once weighed heavily on my shoulders. Since then, I have been myself, fully accepting my quirks and imperfections, and this realization has removed an untold amount of guilt off my conscience. I no longer hold onto the fear of judgment or the desire to fit into a mold that never suited me. From now on, I am just being myself, confident in the knowledge that authenticity brings a sense of peace, connection, and purpose that I had long sought. This journey towards self-acceptance has not only transformed my inner dialogue but has also positively influenced my interactions with others, fostering deeper relationships built on honesty and openness.
I can only lament that it took me sixty-five long years to finally receive this message!
Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
I am closer to the end of life than I was 20 years ago, and I must admit it is on my mind more than it was 20 years ago. Over the years, I have seen friends and loved ones face their own mortality, which has inevitably made me more reflective about my own existence and the passage of time. Each day that passes serves as a reminder of the impermanence of life, prompting me to cherish my moments more deeply and to prioritize relationships and experiences that truly matter. As I navigate through my daily routines, thoughts about what I want to achieve before my time comes linger, shaping my decisions and encouraging me to live with intention while appreciating both the simple pleasures and profound connections along the way.
Thinking about waiting until the end of life stirs a mix of emotions—dread, curiosity, peace, or even impatience, depending on where one stands. It’s a contemplation that often creeps in during quiet moments, when the noise of the day fades and you’re left with the hum of your own thoughts. Some might picture it as a distant horizon, a finish line they’re in no rush to reach, while others see it as a looming shadow, sharpening their focus on what matters now.
The idea of waiting implies a kind of surrender to time—an acceptance that life’s chapters will unfold at their own pace. You might wonder what you’d do differently if you knew the exact page count. Would you linger more on the good days, savoring the small joys—a warm coffee, a laugh with a friend, the way sunlight spills through a window? Or would you race to tie up loose ends, chasing closure like it’s a deadline?
For some, it’s less about waiting and more about preparing. They might ask: Have I said what needs saying? Have I loved enough, fought enough, rested enough? Others might reject the question entirely, choosing instead to live as if the end isn’t a dot on the map but a blur they’ll deal with when it arrives. There’s no universal script for this. It’s personal, messy, and human.
Philosophers have chewed on this for centuries, contemplating the intricate dance between life and death. Stoics like Seneca urged us to think of death daily—not to morbidly obsess over it, but to sharpen our appreciation for the present moment and the fleeting nature of existence. “You live as if you were destined to live forever,” he wrote, nudging us to stop wasting time on trivial pursuits and to embrace the now with intention. This perspective invites us to reflect on our priorities and the ephemeral beauty in our lives. Meanwhile, someone like Camus might argue that it’s the absurdity of the end that gives life its edge—knowing it stops is what makes it worth wrestling with. The recognition of our mortality can ignite a fiery passion for living fully and authentically, pushing us to confront the chaos and meaninglessness while simultaneously finding joy in the struggle itself. Embracing both the transient and the absurd can lead to a richer, more profound experience of life, encouraging us to seek out connections, love, and purpose amidst the inevitable decay.
In the end, thinking about waiting till the end of life isn’t really about the end itself. It’s about what you do with the stretch in between—the hours, the years, the fleeting now that slip through your fingers like grains of sand. Whether you wait quietly, reflecting on moments that shaped your existence, or charge toward it with fervor and passion, the clock ticks the same for everyone, indifferent to our individual journeys. What changes is how you listen to it, how you interpret its passing, and how you choose to fill the time allotted to you. Each second can be a brushstroke on the canvas of your life, each minute an opportunity for joy, love, and connection. I have experienced a preview of time after life on this earth, glimpsing the ethereal realm that awaits us, and I truly believe a new experience and adventure waits for all, urging us to embrace the journey with open hearts and curious minds, ready to explore the mysteries that lie beyond.
Yes, I am doing this for free. For over two years, I have been deeply invested in blogging here on WordPress and sharing my thoughts on another website. I have been blogging periodically since 2004. As a retiree in my eighties, this passion has become a wonderful outlet for my creativity and expression. I do not need to work any longer, as I have the comfort of living off my pensions and Social Security benefits, which provide me with a stable financial foundation. The sense of fulfillment and joy that comes from writing and connecting with others online has transformed my daily routine into a gratifying experience. I am fortunate to be able to pay the monthly bills without worry and even have a nest egg to fall back on if needed. Life has been good, filled with the beauty of reflection and the excitement of sharing stories; each post adds to a rich tapestry of memories that I get to relive and share with my readers.
Over two years ago, I had a near-death experience, a profound moment that changed my perception of life and existence. For three days, I lay in the ICU, surrounded by the sterile smell of antiseptic and the constant beeping of machines. During that time, I embarked on an introspective journey, searching for the reason why I was granted an extension of time on this earth. I pondered deeply about my life choices, the relationships I had nurtured, and the dreams I had chased. The only conclusion I arrived at was a strong desire to share my life and experiences with anyone who shows even the slightest interest in the diverse perspectives on life, death, and the myriad events that shape us. I realized that while I did not leap over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets, I have simply led an average American life filled with both struggles and joyous moments, each contributing to the person I am today. It became clear to me that the stories we carry within us hold immense value, and it is through sharing these narratives that we can connect with others, fostering understanding and compassion in an often-divided world.
If interested, visit other posts I have entered on WordPress. They cover many issues and events that reflect my journey through life. Topics such as growing up, faith and religion, my time in the army, and married life are just a few examples that I explore in depth. Each post aims to provide insights and provoke thought among readers who may find themselves navigating similar experiences. Sometime last fall, I started audio podcasts of my postings. This has become my most active section of my site, creating an interactive platform for visitors to engage with my thoughts by listening instead of reading. Feel free to check out the podcasts, as they are rich with reflections and discussions that may resonate with your own life experiences. LINK
Finally, the satisfaction I get is seeing many likes and comments on my comments about everything.
The Olympics used to be my jam, the Super Bowl of my childhood! Picture this: I’d plop myself in front of the TV, utterly captivated by athletes defying gravity, heartwarming underdog tales, and epic human victories that made my daily life feel like a lukewarm cup of coffee. It was like the world threw a giant party, showcasing how we all could transform into superheroes—at least until my couch became my permanent throne! But then, like a magician that vanished into thin air, that sparkle fizzled out for me. Now, I don’t watch the Olympics at all—and let me tell you, it’s one less reason to workout, because the only gold I’m chasing is the one in my pantry!
First off, the whole thing resembles more of a corporate circus than an authentic sporting event. Every four years (or two, if you consider the Winter Games), the International Olympic Committee (IOC) unveils a multi-billion-dollar spectacle, inundating us with a barrage of sponsorships, ads, and branding. Sure, the athletes might be breaking records, but the real winners appear to be the corporations profiting from every fleeting moment of airtime. Coca-Cola, Visa, Airbnb—you name it, their logos are plastered everywhere. It’s challenging to feel invested in a runner’s personal best when the screen is overwhelmed by a fast-food chain cashing in on their success for profit.
Then there’s the politics—ah yes, the never-ending circus! I get it—sports and geopolitics have been best buddies since forever. Who could forget those Cold War medal counts? It’s like an Olympic edition of “Survivor,” complete with boycotts and flag-waving drama. But these days, it’s like every Olympics comes with a side of propaganda fries! You’ve got the host country bulging its muscles for the cameras while athletes are dodging cultural landmines left and right. Honestly, I didn’t sign up for debates about doping scandals, national anthems, or who’s kneeling for what. I just wanted to watch someone sprint like the wind or defy gravity—not find myself in the front row of an international soap opera!
The financial implications are significant and troubling. Host cities invest billions in the construction of stadiums and related infrastructure, only for a substantial portion of that investment to deteriorate following the closing ceremony. The situation in Rio 2016 serves as a stark example—venues now lie in disrepair and the local economy is in a worse position than it was prior to the Games. Similarly, Athens 2004 continues to display abandoned facilities that detract from the urban landscape. Meanwhile, the International Olympic Committee enjoys substantial revenue while taxpayers bear the financial burden, all for what ultimately amounts to two weeks of entertainment. It is difficult to support an athlete when the event appears to be primarily a financial drain that benefits a select few at the top.
And don’t get me started on the coverage! It’s like a never-ending soap opera about an athlete’s sick grandma or their childhood pet hamster that somehow took center stage. Seriously, folks, I don’t need a 10-minute tearjerker about a swimmer’s pet turtle to care about the 100-meter freestyle—just let me see the splashy action! The commentators dissect every single move like they’re analyzing a Shakespearean play, and the replays are so slow that I forget if I’m watching a race or a slow-mo audition for a dramatic documentary. It’s like trying to enjoy a roller coaster while someone keeps hitting the pause button—exhausting!
Finally, there exists a profound hypocrisy. The Olympics proclaim values of “unity” and “peace,” yet the reality is far more complex. Persistent doping violations, corruption scandals within the IOC, and athletes from economically disadvantaged nations who receive little opportunity due to insufficient funding—all contribute to a system that is fundamentally inequitable, masquerading as a meritocracy. I find greater value in observing a local track meet, where the stakes are tangible and the competition is less compromised.
So yeah, I’m outta here! I’ll just grab the highlights on my burner phone if something crazy goes down, but plopping myself in front of the overcooked, flashy Olympic circus? No thanks! I’d rather spend my precious time watching classic movies that don’t feel like a constant sales pitch for a one-hit-wonder or a glittery new toaster.
Daily writing prompt
What Olympic sports do you enjoy watching the most?
The wind howled through the empty house, whispering “Tom” in the dark. I stood at the threshold of the old Schueller estate, my breath fogging in the frigid night air, my flashlight trembling in my hand. It was a dare from my friends—Jack, Mike, and Florence—because they knew I couldn’t resist proving them wrong. They’d spent weeks spinning tales about this place: how the Schueller family vanished in ’73, how neighbors swore they heard screams years after, how the house sat untouched, rotting on the edge of town like a festering wound. “It’s just a creepy old dump,” I’d said, smirking, but now, with the warped door creaking open under my push, my bravado felt thin as the mist curling around my ankles.
Inside, the air was stale, heavy with dust and something sour I couldn’t place. My flashlight beam swept over peeling wallpaper, furniture draped in moldy sheets, and a grandfather clock frozen at 3:17, its pendulum dangling like a broken limb. The silence was oppressive, but then the floorboards groaned behind me, a slow, deliberate creak, as if someone had shifted their weight. I spun around, heart hammering, but there was nothing—just the gaping doorway and the night beyond. “Hello?” I called, my voice swallowed by the house. No answer, only the wind rattling the shutters like a caged animal desperate to get in—or out.
I pressed deeper, past a dining room where plates sat untouched, crusted with decades-old food, and up a staircase that sagged under my steps. Each creak felt like a warning, but I told myself it was just the house settling, not the presence I swore I felt watching me. A cold draft brushed the back of my neck, prickling my skin, and I turned again—nothing but shadows. Except now the shadows seemed wrong, elongated and twisting, like fingers reaching from the walls. My flashlight flickered, and in that stuttering light, I glimpsed something—a shape darting across the hall, too fast to be real, too human to be imagination.
The attic door was at the end of the corridor, its paint chipped into a jagged grin. I don’t know why I climbed those final stairs; maybe it was the dare, maybe it was the pull of something I couldn’t name. The attic smelled of mildew and rust, cluttered with boxes spilling yellowed letters and faded photographs of the Schueller’s—smiling faces that didn’t match the stories. In the corner stood a cracked mirror, its frame warped and blackened, and when I looked into it, my breath caught. My reflection wasn’t mine. It was hers—Eleanor Schueller, the woman who’d disappeared last, her portrait still hanging in the town hall. Her eyes were pits of ink, her mouth a crooked gash stretching wider than any humans should, and she stared back at me, unblinking.
I stumbled back, the flashlight dropping with a clatter, plunging me into darkness. The air thickened, pressing against my chest, and the walls began to throb—a slow, rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat echoing through the house. Footsteps thudded below, heavy and deliberate, climbing the stairs. I grabbed the flashlight, its beam weak now, and ran, the attic door slamming shut behind me with a force that shook the frame. The stairs twisted under my feet, the wood bending as if trying to trap me, and I half-fell, half-leaped down, my hands scraping against splinters and something wet that smelled of copper.
The hallway stretched longer than before, the front door a distant speck. Behind me, the footsteps grew louder, joined by a low, guttural hum that vibrated in my bones. I didn’t dare look back—I couldn’t. When I reached the door, it wouldn’t budge, the knob icy and slick under my palms, but with a desperate shove, it gave way, and I spilled onto the porch, gulping the night air. The house loomed behind me, its windows dark and accusing, and I ran—down the overgrown path, past the rusted gate, not stopping until I hit the road where my car waited.
I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking so badly I dropped them twice, and when I finally looked up, the house was still there, silhouetted against the moon. Safe, I thought, leaning back in the driver’s seat, my pulse slowing. But then the wind picked up, slicing through the trees with a sound too sharp, too alive. It wasn’t just wind—it was her voice, Eleanor’s, low and insistent, threading through the noise, calling my name “Tom”. I froze, staring at the house, and in the upstairs window, a figure stood, its head tilted, its smile too wide. The car wouldn’t start. The air grew colder. And I knew, with a sinking dread, that I hadn’t escaped at all—she’d let me think I had, just to pull me back. The wind howled through the empty house, whispering “Tom” in the dark.
Many web browsers and programs have integrated AI features, reflecting a growing trend in software development. However, providing an exact number is challenging due to the rapid pace of updates, the variety of software types, and the lack of a comprehensive, up-to-date list across all platforms.
Web Browsers with AI Features
Several major and emerging web browsers have incorporated AI capabilities to enhance user experience, productivity, and privacy. Here are some notable examples:
Microsoft Edge – Features Copilot, an AI assistant for tasks like summarizing web pages, composing text, and providing insights based on page content.
Google Chrome – Includes AI-driven features like Google Lens for visual search, tab organization suggestions, and AI-generated browser themes. Experimental features also allow searching browsing history with natural language.
Opera – Offers Aria, an AI assistant powered by OpenAI and Google models, and recently introduced Browser Operator, a locally run AI agent for task automation.
Brave – Integrates Leo, an AI assistant for answering questions and summarizing content, alongside privacy-focused AI tools like Summarizer and CodeLLM for developers.
Arc (by The Browser Company) – Provides Arc Max, a suite of AI features including link previews, tab tidying, and ChatGPT integration. Arc Search on iOS also includes unique AI capabilities like “Browse for Me.”
SigmaOS – Features Airis, an AI assistant for task automation and content rewording, primarily for Mac users.
Safari (Apple) – Planned AI enhancements in Safari 18 (expected with iOS 18 in 2024) include text suggestions, web page summaries, and a “Web Eraser” tool, though not yet fully rolled out as of early 2025.
Wavebox – Includes Brainbox, a ChatGPT-powered assistant for productivity-focused browsing.
Additionally, emerging players like Perplexity’s Comet (an AI-powered browser) and The Browser Company’s upcoming Dia project indicate further growth in this space. Posts on X also highlight OpenAI’s Operator feature tied to ChatGPT Pro, suggesting some browser-like AI functionalities, though it’s not a standalone browser.
This brings the count of browsers with AI features to at least 8 widely recognized ones, with others in development or niche markets potentially adding to this number.
Programs with AI Features
Beyond browsers, numerous programs across categories like productivity, creativity, and development have adopted AI features. Examples include:
Productivity: Microsoft Office (Copilot for Word, Excel, etc.), Google Workspace (AI writing suggestions), Notion (AI-powered writing and summarization).
Creative Software: Adobe Photoshop (AI-driven editing tools like Generative Fill), Canva (AI design suggestions), Synthesia (AI video generation).
Development Tools: GitHub Copilot (AI code suggestions), Visual Studio Code (AI extensions), JetBrains IDEs (AI Assistant).
Communication: Zoom (AI meeting summaries), Slack (AI workflow automation), Grammarly (AI writing enhancement). WordPress, (AI writing enhancement in the draft segment of posts).
Given the breadth of software categories—productivity suites, graphic design tools, IDEs, communication platforms, and more—it’s reasonable to estimate that hundreds of programs have AI features by now. For instance, just in the creative and productivity sectors, dozens of popular tools have integrated AI, and this doesn’t account for lesser-known or specialized applications.
As one can see, AI is becoming a popular presence in many aspects of the cyber world, significantly transforming industries and altering the way we interact with technology. It is also becoming a crucial factor in various elements of our everyday lives, influencing how we communicate, work, and manage our tasks. Whether in our homes, workplaces, or public spaces, AI systems deliver convenience and efficiency that was previously unimaginable. Like it or not, AI is here, and humans must learn to accept, adapt, and harness its potential for positive change, embracing the opportunities it presents while being mindful of the challenges it may pose.
Sure, I use AI. I must say that it has given my comments and ideas more depth, allowing me to explore angles I hadn’t considered before. The thoughts and ideas are mine, and AI takes it from there, enhancing what I’ve crafted with rich suggestions and insightful data analysis. This powerful tool helps me refine my views and present them in a more coherent manner. Moreover, AI is here to stay, and it’s only going to get bigger and more common, integrating seamlessly into our daily routines, making tasks easier, and fostering creativity in ways we’re just beginning to understand. As it evolves, I can only imagine the possibilities it will unlock for our expressions and innovations across various fields.
I tested positive February 8th for Covid, which was somewhat unexpected given how we’ve all adapted over the past few years. Procedures and attitudes have really changed since years ago, with a heightened awareness of health and safety measures permeating daily life. I went to urgent care because I had a sore throat. I am thinking I may have Strep Throat since I have had this ailment many times in my life. It’s frustrating to navigate through these overlapping illnesses, especially when the signs can sometimes be misleading. Strep Throat is a bacterial infection that requires prompt attention, and I would need a prescription to get an antibiotic to ensure that I can recover quickly and prevent any potential complications.
The admitting questionnaire does not even list Covid. They list cold and flu symptoms, but nothing about Covid, which seems particularly concerning given the ongoing pandemic. Remembering in the past when there were big bold letters at the top of the form that issued a clear warning about listing Covid symptoms, accompanied by special instructions that everyone was expected to abide by, it feels odd to see such a lack of attention now. I check the box for cold and flu symptoms since there is no category for sore throat, which I have been experiencing lately. Entering the waiting room, I am struck by the sight of 8 or ten patients waiting to be called up, all sitting closely together, which feels unsettling. No masks or social distancing measures are in place whatsoever, leaving me wondering about the safety protocols that should be implemented in such a high-traffic area where the risk of transmission could be significant.
In about ten minutes I am called into the admittance office. The nurse their does have a mask. I tell her I have concerns about Strep Throat and she says that is probably not my illness since most people develop an immunity to Strep as they age. But they will perform a Strep test anyway and also do a Flu and Covid tests to make sure it is not one of those. She takes me to a treatment room and tells me a nurse will be in shortly.
In a short time, a nurse or some other professional comes in, no mask, no concern about that I may be contagious. She does the routine of blood pressure, blood oxygen and whatever else they do. Asks a few questions like do I have any other symptoms and how long have I been ill. She then tells me another person will come in and do the nostril swabs for the samples.
Maybe ten, fifteen minutes later the next technician comes in, no mask, just like I am person with a bad sprain. She does the Strep swab first and then the flu swab. I comment I am sure glad there is only one more swab to do. To my surprise she responds and says the flu and Covid test is done at the same time. This brings back memories during the onset of Covid that there were comments that Covid is just a flu strain and for political and agenda reasons it is being blown out a proportion to the actual seriousness of the virus. If they use the same test, it makes one wonder.
It takes forty minutes for the test results. A Physician Assistant enters the room and gives me the results. the Strep test is negative, and the Flu test is also negative. Unfortunately, the covid comes back positive . I have Covid. There is no panic no concern, just like you have a cold or flu. She gives me a mask to wear home and says the quarantine is now only five days and that starts the day the symptoms start. Go home and if your symptoms get worse come back. Next Patient!
This Brings back how my wife was treated during the height of the pandemic. She was isolated immediately, and a sign was put on the door “restricted area”. Personnel would come into the room all masked up and in disposable garments. You had to put up with wearing masks everywhere, Clear plexiglass sheets separated you from the cashier. Do not get closer than 5 feet to the next person. Many restaurants did not survive the Covid shutdown. I always wondered how the small business was shut down, but the large, big box stores could stay open. One will never know if this helped or not.
Unfortunately, how Covid was treated has led people to distrust government, big pharma, and the medical profession. The face of Covid is so much different than the beginning; it is no longer seen with the same level of fear and urgency. Now it is treated like just a bad cold or the flu, leading to a general complacency among the public. This shift in perception not only complicates ongoing vaccination efforts but also fuels skepticism regarding public health recommendations, as many feel the initial responses lacked transparency and consistency. As a result, the conversations surrounding Covid have transformed, making it difficult for health authorities to regain trust and effectively communicate the importance of ongoing vigilance against this virus and its potential variants.
Daily writing prompt
How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
For over two decades, my 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup was more than just a vehicle—it was a reliable companion. I bought it back in the day with a clear purpose: to tackle my 18-mile commute to work. It did that job faithfully, day in and day out, without complaint. But as life shifted gears, so did my need for it. I retired in 2006, and since then, the little truck’s role in my life slowly faded. In the last couple of years, I barely put 500 miles on it annually. With just 75,000 miles on the odometer, it still had plenty of life left, but it was clear it was time to let go.
The decision to sell wasn’t easy. That truck had been a steady presence, sitting in the garage, ready whenever I needed it. But practicality won out. It wasn’t getting much use anymore, and I figured I could save a bit on insurance and the occasional upkeep. Besides, a vehicle like that deserves to be driven, not just parked. So, after some thought, I decided to sell it to someone who’d appreciate it as much as I did—my son-in-law, Steve.
Steve was thrilled to take it off my hands. He’s always had a soft spot for that kind of truck, and I knew he’d treat it right. Sure enough, he’s been taking great care of it—keeping it clean, staying on top of any little things it needs, and driving it with the kind of enthusiasm I had back when it was my daily ride. What’s even better is that he’s told me I can borrow it anytime I want. It’s nice to know it’s still in the family, and I can hop in for a spin whenever nostalgia hits.
That S10 was a good truck—rock-solid and dependable. In all the years I owned it, the only repair it ever needed was a new oxygen sensor. That’s it. No major breakdowns, no headaches. Just a tough little pickup that got the job done. Even now, after letting it go, I miss it. There’s something about the hum of that engine and the feel of the wheel in my hands that tugs at me every now and then.
Selling it to Steve feels right, though. It’s not gone forever—just passed along to someone who’ll give it the miles and memories it deserves. I’m glad it’s in good hands, and I’ll always look back on my time with that Chevy with a smile.
In a chaotic village perched precariously between the undulating hills of medieval France and the eerie shadows of the Loire Valley, a cunning jester named Pipkin thrived. It was 1564, an era of upheaval where the villagers found themselves grappling with a world turned upside down. Just a short time ago, King Charles IX had announced a radical change: the new year would no longer kick off with extravagant feasts and debauchery on April 1 but instead would commence on January 1, dragging France into the rigid confines of the Gregorian calendar. Those pitiful souls clinging to the outdated tradition of welcoming the year in spring were ridiculed as “April fools,” their refusal to adapt a mere punchline in the eyes of the so-called enlightened.
Pipkin, the neighborhood prankster extraordinaire, spotted a golden opportunity in the chaos unfolding around him. Unlike the gloomy folks sweating it out in the fields or bartering over sheep fur like it was the last cookie at a bake sale, he skipped through life with a mischievous grin and a pouch bursting with enough tricks to rival a magician’s arsenal. The villagers loved him—most of the time—except for those moments when his notorious pranks left them blushing brighter than a beet or swimming in a puddle of ale. But this year, Pipkin made an oath to turn the king’s quirky calendar shuffle into a party so unforgettable, even the sourpusses would be tempted to crack a smile!
As spring arrived, the first day of April in 1564 was bright and fresh. The village was excited because Pipkin had called it “Fool’s Day,” a reminder of those still giving New Year’s gifts three months late. No one knew why he liked this day—some said it was because he once tricked old Farmer Grum into thinking his cow could sing. But Pipkin just smiled and said, “A fool needs no reason.”
That morning, Pipkin woke with a plan grander than any before. He scurried about, planting surprises like seeds in a garden. By noon, the village was a riot of chaos and glee. Baker Thom pulled a loaf from his oven only to find it squawked like a chicken—Pipkin had slipped a tiny bellows inside the dough, a trick he’d learned from a wandering Italian jongleur. Widow Mara opened her door to a “tax collector” demanding payment in turnips, only to realize it was Pipkin in a borrowed cloak, mimicking the royal officials who’d enforced the new calendar. Even the stern blacksmith, Gorrim, roared with laughter when his hammer turned to rubber mid-strike, bouncing off the anvil—a jest inspired by tales of Dutch pranksters Pipkin had heard at the tavern.
But Pipkin’s big moment was waiting for the evening when everyone in the village came together for the spring feast—kind of like their old New Year’s parties. As the sun started to set, painting the sky in cool shades of orange and purple, Pipkin hopped up on a barrel and started clapping his hands. “Hey folks!” he yelled. “Check out the wildest joke of all, a treat for all the goofballs from the past and present!” With a dramatic pull, he yanked on a rope, and from the trees came a shower of sparkling dust. The crowd gasped as it rained down on them—then blinked in confusion. Nothing happened. No magical changes, no funny stuff, just a little sparkle on their shoulders.
“Is this your trick, Pipkin?” grumbled Gorrim, brushing the dust off his beard. “A bit of sparkle and naught else?”
Pipkin’s grin widened. “Look closer, my friends.”
The villagers squinted and then erupted into laughter as if they’d just discovered a hidden treasure. The dust wasn’t just any old sparkle; it was like a winking mirror reflecting their hearts, playfully echoing the French tradition of calling April 1 “Poisson d’Avril,” or “April Fish,” for those who bit on pranks like a hungry bass. Throughout the night, every word was a comedy act: compliments morphed into cheeky roasts, grumbles transformed into zany jests, and even the bashful folks loosened up as if they’d chugged a gallon of giggles. Widow Mara poked fun at Thom’s infamous “fowl bread,” while Gorrim sheepishly confessed he had a secret crush on the rubber hammer. The feast turned into a riotous symphony of laughter, echoing louder and friendlier than any past New Year’s party ever could!
As the clock hit midnight, the dust cleared, and the village slipped into a comfy quiet. Pipkin, sitting on his barrel, watched everyone head home, their grins hanging around like stars. He’d done more than just pull a prank—he’d flipped the king’s decree into a wild day of fun and rebellion, a party for those who once celebrated the year back in April.
From then on, April 1 was known as Fool’s Day across the land, spreading beyond France to England, Scotland, and even the New World in time. This day became a canvas for joy and mischief, a celebration of laughter that echoed through towns and villages, where residents plotted playful tricks, each year trying to outdo the last. Pipkin never revealed where he’d found that magical dust—some said it came from a gypsy trader, others from a monk with a sense of humor—but each year, he’d wink and say, “A fool’s best trick is to make you one too.” His enigmatic charm only fueled the tradition, which flourished and grew, blending with tales of fish pinned to backs and mock gifts for the forgetful, as children and adults alike became embroiled in the exhilarating spirit of the day, creating unforgettable memories, all thanks to a jester who saw history’s shifts as a stage for laughter, ensuring that the essence of fun and camaraderie would endure through the ages.
April Fools’ Day, while keeping the magic and mischief alive. Enjoy your Fool’s Day!
What makes a person unique is a mix of factors—like a recipe with endless variations. At the core, it’s their genetics, experiences, and choices. DNA provides the foundation, determining traits like eye color or a tendency to enjoy bad jokes. But that’s just the beginning—identical twins may have similar genetic codes but can still be very different.
Experiences shape us. Where you’re born, who raises you, the books you read, the people you meet, the challenges you face, and the successes you pursue make each person’s journey unique. No two people have the same story, even if they grow up close. A kid from a busy city and one from a quiet village may both love soccer, but their playing style and dreams will be different.
Then there’s choice—how you respond, what you appreciate, the peculiarities you embrace. One person may complain about a rainy day, while another enjoys it with an umbrella and dances. Personality comes from this mix: your humor, your stubbornness, your odd fondness for collecting bottle caps. It’s not only about what happens, but how you view it through your own perspective.
Even the tiniest quirks—like that epic scar from your legendary bike crash or a go-to song that’s forever stuck in your head because of an embarrassing memory—add some serious spice to the dish that is you. Philosophers might sip their lattes and ponder it’s all about your brain’s cosmic consciousness, that elusive unicorn of self-awareness. Scientists, on the other hand, would probably throw around terms like neural patterns or microbiome shenanigans (yep, even your gut bacteria have opinions). But honestly, it’s the chaotic, beautifully messy mix of nature, nurture, and your stubborn will that makes you one-of-a-kind. So, what do you think makes you the delightful weirdo that you are?
I am a 2022 Honda HRV, a compact yet mighty crossover, designed to navigate the urban jungle with a touch of adventure. My story begins in the bright, bustling lot of a Honda dealership, where I gleamed under the sun, my coat of Urban Gray Metallic catching the eyes of passersby.
My owner, Tom, found me on a crisp autumn day. He circled around, inspecting my sleek lines and spacious interior. I could feel his approval as he ran his hands over my alloy wheels and checked out my cargo space. There was an instant connection, and soon, I was rolling out of the dealership, my engine purring with excitement.
The first journey with Tom was memorable. We ventured out of the city, and I found myself navigating through winding country roads, my all-wheel-drive system gripping the pavement with confidence. The scenery was a blur of colors, but I felt every curve, every incline, as if I were part of the landscape itself.
Life with Tom was full of small adventures. We’d often drive to the local park where he’d open my tailgate, revealing the convenience of my Magic Seat feature, perfect for his weekend camping gear or a quick picnic. I loved those moments when the sun set, casting golden rays through my windows, warming the interior while Tom enjoyed his Gatorade.
Winter arrived, and I proved my mettle. With my heated seats and climate control, we kept cozy even on the chilliest days. The snow didn’t daunt me; my snow mode ensured we navigated through the white landscapes with ease. There was a sense of pride when I managed to get us out of the snowy parking lots where others were stuck.
But it wasn’t all about the adventures. I was there for the mundane too – the daily commutes, the grocery runs, the quiet drives to the library or to visit friends. Each journey, no matter how short, was a chance for me to serve and to be appreciated. Tom would sometimes talk to me, not expecting a reply, but I listened. I heard about his day, his plans, his hopes. It made me feel like more than just a vehicle; I was a companion.
Then there was the music. Tom loved his tunes, and my audio system was just right for him, filling the cabin with his favorite beats, making each drive a little concert. The joy of music, the beat matching the rhythm of my engine, it was a harmony unique to us. Tom was overjoyed when he discovered my UBS feature. Now he can bring thousands of his favorites copied onto a thumb drive and never hear the same song twice.
One day, we took a long road trip. The open road was liberating, the horizon endless. My fuel efficiency meant fewer stops, more miles under my wheels. We saw mountains, forests, and at one point, we pulled over at a viewpoint. Tom sat on my hood, watching the sunset, and I felt a sense of accomplishment for bringing him to such a beautiful place.
As time passed, I’ve seen maintenance days – oil changes, tire rotations – but each visit to the mechanic was a testament to how well Tom cared for me. I was not just a machine; I was a part of his life, his story.
Now, as I sit here, perhaps parked in the garage, I look back on these days with fondness. I’ve been more than a vehicle; I’ve been a part of Tom’s journey, his companion through the seasons, through the ups and downs. Here’s to many more adventures, to the bond that forms between a car and its owner, to the road less traveled, and to the road yet to come.
When I was five, I was in kindergarten, and thinking about what I wanted to be was the farthest thing from my mind. Instead, I spent my days playing with colorful blocks, making new friends, and exploring the world around me with unfiltered curiosity and imagination. I was allowed to enjoy my younger years, filled with laughter and carefree adventures. I am old enough to remember when childhood was a time for innocence and wonder, when the biggest concern was whether to choose the red crayon or the blue one for my next drawing. Now, it seems that society does not allow young people to savor those precious moments of their younger years, as they are bombarded with expectations and pressures far beyond their age. The topic of sex never came up until junior high, which is now referred to as middle school, and it baffles me. I don’t know what the big rush is for introducing such complex adult issues to children who should still be focused on discovering the joy of playing tag or riding a bike for the first time. It’s as if the essence of being young is being overshadowed by an urgent push to grow up too fast.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Retirement is a highlight in one’s life, representing freedom and the culmination of decades of hard work and dedication. You work many years, and the ultimate goal is to retire in comfort and enjoy your remaining years with a sense of peace and fulfillment. Retirement is one of the American dreams that can come true, offering opportunities to travel, pursue hobbies, or simply relax in the company of loved ones. It takes meticulous planning and disciplined saving to reach this desired goal, ensuring that you can sustain your lifestyle and meet your needs during this new phase of life. Additionally, it takes a little luck for all the cards to fall in place so that retirement can happen, including factors like market conditions, health, and unexpected life events. The journey to retirement is both a financial and emotional endeavor, demanding foresight and resilience to navigate the challenges along the way.
Since I retired eighteen years ago, I will share what I did to help me live comfortably in retirement. First, I made sure all my credit cards were paid off, ensuring that I was not burdened with unnecessary debt. The only balances I had in credit cards were monthly expenses, such as groceries and utilities, and they were paid off totally every month to avoid interest charges. I also took the time to thoroughly inquire about what my social security monthly amount would be, as well as the small pension amounts we would receive after retirement, understanding the importance of knowing our financial limits. Additionally, I reviewed the condition of the vehicles in our household, assessing how many years they would realistically last before needing replacement, which helped with long-term planning. Then, I made a tentative budget to see if our retirement income would cover the necessary expenses every month, analyzing all aspects of our financial needs. Entertainment items, such as trips and vacations, which were important for our quality of life, would come out of our savings rather than our monthly income. After careful consideration and planning, the decision was made to retire, with the hope that our finances would not only support us but would last longer than our lifetimes, allowing us to enjoy this new chapter without the constant stress of financial insecurity.
Everything was doing ok until the financial crash of 2008. At that time, our portfolio showed unrealized losses to be over one half of our total assets, which was quite alarming. The decision had to be made to sell the stocks and change the unrealized losses to realized losses, a choice that weighed heavily on my mind. Since I didn’t need the money immediately, I elected to keep the stock, hoping that the value of the investment would eventually return to the purchase price before making a sale. It was a gamble that I felt was worth taking, as selling in a downturn often leads to regret. We didn’t make any money, but we didn’t lose any either, which was a small consolation in such volatile times. It took about seven years to finally regain all our original investments, a journey filled with uncertainty and anxiety. These were scary times, marked by constant headlines of market turmoil and fears of a prolonged recession. In light of this turmoil, the decision was made to pull out of the stock market completely and invest solely in secure assets, like bonds and real estate, which appeared to offer a more stable return. I was just becoming too old to live with that stress and insecurity; my health was starting to feel the strain of worrying over fluctuating markets. Since then, we have been okay financially, cautiously navigating this new approach to investing, and it has provided a greater sense of peace and security in our lives.
As you become older, health issues tend to hamper retirement plans, often causing individuals to rethink their aspirations and dreams. The vacations and trips that once seemed so enticing and achievable now appear to be shelved because of these unforeseen health challenges. We have had over eighteen years of comfortable retirement, filled with cherished memories and joyful experiences, and we feel very fortunate to have enjoyed these years. Each day brings a new opportunity to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, but we are also mindful of the limitations that can come with aging. Hopefully, we will have many more years to explore the world around us, to create lasting memories with loved ones, and to continue embracing life with the same vigor and enthusiasm we once had.
Most people don’t fully understand how Wi-Fi works, even though they use it daily. They see it as a magical connection to the internet, but it’s really just radio waves—signals moving between a router and their device. The router takes data from a wired connection, changes it into a radio signal (usually at 2.4 or 5 GHz), and sends it out. Your device catches that signal, interprets it, and sends signals back. Walls, distance, and other devices can interfere with these signals.
The confusion arises when people don’t understand why their connection is poor—devices like microwaves and cordless phones share the same radio frequencies, causing interference. Also, “faster Wi-Fi” isn’t useful if your internet provider’s connection is still slow. It’s essential technology, but many don’t grasp the basics of signal strength, bandwidth, and interference.
Since Tik Tok has been on the news lately I thought maybe I should become a member to expand my coverage. I didn’t know much about the app, so I went to Grok, Elon’s favorite AI and asked it. Here is how it responded.
As a blogger who works with written and audio content, joining TikTok could be a solid move depending on your goals and how much you’re willing to adapt your style. TikTok’s all about short-form video—15 seconds to 3 minutes—so it’s not a natural fit for long written posts or audio deep-dives. But it could work as a way to expand your reach and pull people into your existing platforms.
Here’s the breakdown:
Pros:
Audience Growth: TikTok’s algorithm is insane at pushing content to new people. If you’ve got a niche (say, storytelling, lifestyle, or commentary), you could tease your written or audio work with quick, punchy videos and drive traffic back to your blog or podcast.
Creative Audio Angle: Since you do audio, you could lean into TikTok’s sound features—create original voiceovers, snippets of your podcast, or pair your voice with trending visuals. Audio-driven content does well there.
Cross-Promotion: A 30-second clip summarizing a blog post or a dramatic reading could hook viewers and send them to your full work. It’s like a trailer for your brand.
Cons:
Time Investment: TikTok rewards consistency and video editing chops. If you’re not into making visuals or learning the platform’s quirks, it might feel like a grind on top of your blogging.
Format Shift: Your written and audio strengths don’t fully translate without some reworking. You’d need to distill your ideas into bite-sized, attention-grabbing bits—less depth, more flash.
Audience Mismatch: TikTok skews younger (Gen Z and Millennials). If your blog’s readers are older or prefer long-form, they might not bite.
What You Could Try:
Teasers: Record a quick audio snippet of your latest post or episode, slap some text or visuals on it, and end with a “link in bio” nudge (you’d need a TikTok business account or 1,000 followers for links).
Behind-the-Scenes: Show your blogging process—writing, recording, brainstorming—in a casual, relatable way.
If you’re up for experimenting and don’t mind the video learning curve, it could be a cool way to amplify your voice. But if you’d rather double down on platforms that fit your current groove (like X for written thoughts or podcast apps for audio), that’s valid too. What’s your main goal—growth, fun, or something else?
Yep, there are definitely older people on TikTok—it’s not just a Gen Z playground! While the platform started with a younger crowd, its user base has broadened over time. Here’s the rundown:
The Numbers:
TikTok’s core demographic is still young—about 60% of U.S. users are between 16 and 34, according to 2023 stats from Statista. But older folks are carving out space.
Around 25% of U.S. users are 35–54, and roughly 10% are 55+, per recent demographic breakdowns (e.g., Pew Research, 2023). That’s millions of people—small compared to the kids, but growing.
Globally, TikTok claims over 1 billion monthly active users (as of late 2024), so even a small percentage of older users adds up.
Older Creators & Vibes:
Boomers and Gen X Are There: You’ve got folks like @grandadjoe1933 (70+ and cracking jokes), @lynnalanamode (a 60-something fashionista), or @dancinggrannies (self-explanatory). They’re not the majority, but they’re thriving in niches like humor, life advice, cooking, or nostalgia.
Silver TikTok: There’s even a loose term for it—“Silver TikTok”—where older users share everything from retirement stories to DIY hacks. It’s less dance-heavy, more relatable or quirky.
Engagement: Older creators often get love because they stand out. Viewers find it refreshing or endearing when a 50+ person nails a trend or just does their own thing.
As a Blogger:
If your audience skews older, there’s an underserved pocket on TikTok you could tap into. Think quick tips, storytelling, or “day in the life” stuff that resonates with the 35+ crowd. They’re there, just scrolling quieter than the teens.
The catch? Older users might not engage as much with super trendy, fast-cut content—they often prefer authenticity or slower pacing.
So, yes, older people are on TikTok, and their presence is growing as the platform matures. If you’re eyeing that demographic, you could test the waters with content that bridges your style and their interests. Want me to dig into specific older TikTokers or trends for inspiration?
Alright, let’s dig into TikTok and see if there’s more specific info about older users that could sway your decision as a blogger! You’re into written and audio content, so I’ll focus on how older folks (let’s say 35+) are showing up on the platform, what they’re doing, and whether that aligns with your vibe.
Older People on TikTok: The Raw Data
User Stats: By mid-2024, about 45% of weekly TikTok users in the U.S. were 35 and older, up from 35% in 2022 (YouGov data). That’s a decent chunk—nearly half the platform’s regular scrollers aren’t teens or 20-somethings. Of those, 27% are 45+, and even the 55+ crowd is creeping in at around 3-4% globally, though it’s higher in some spots (like Boomers jumping on faster than other platforms, per a 2023 study).
Growth Trend: TikTok’s not just a kid’s app anymore. Usage among U.S. adults doubled from 11% to 21% weekly between 2022 and 2024. Older users are hopping on, and they’re not just lurking—engagement’s up too. Around 45-48% of 45-54 and 55+ weekly users are posting or commenting now, compared to way lower rates a couple years back.
What Are They Doing There?
Content They Like: Older users lean toward “fun/entertaining” stuff (same as everyone), but they’re also into life lessons, cooking, fashion tips, and nostalgia—think retro vibes or “how I did it back in the day.” Less dance challenges, more practical or relatable content.
Creators in the Mix: There’s a wave of older influencers killing it. Examples:
@grandadjoe1933: 70+, British, does comedy and heartwarming bits—over 2 million followers.
@lynnalanamode: 60s, stylish as hell, mixes fashion with life advice.
@j_dog_1929: 91, Canadian, 2 million followers, teams up with her grandson for quirky skits and brand deals (like Paramount Pictures).
@excusemygrandma: Multi-gen duo (Kim and Grandma Gail) doing fashion, dating advice, and Gen Z slang breakdowns—big with older viewers who like the generational twist.
Niche Communities: Subcultures like #SilverTok (aging gracefully) or #StyleOver50 are popping off. These aren’t just watchers—they’re active, sharing their own takes.
Could This Work for You?
Your Angle: As a written/audio blogger, you’re not about quick dance vids, but TikTok’s older crowd might dig your style if you adapt. Think:
Audio Clips: Drop a 30-second podcast teaser with text overlay—maybe a storytelling bit or a hot take from your blog. Older users like substance over flash.
Written to Visual: Turn a blog post into a quick “3 Tips” slideshow with your voice narrating. Something like “3 Ways I Learned to Blog Smarter After 40” could hit with the 35+ crew.
Nostalgia Play: If your content’s got a reflective edge, lean into that—older folks love a throwback vibe.
Audience Fit: If your current readers/listeners are 35-55, they’re already on TikTok or could be nudged there. You’d be meeting them where they’re scrolling, not chasing a teen crowd that might not care.
The Catch
Learning Curve: You’d need to figure out video basics—nothing fancy, but enough to make it snappy. Older creators often keep it raw and real, which works, but it’s still a shift from writing or recording audio.
Time Sink: TikTok loves frequent posts. Can you carve out time to experiment without burning out on your main gig?
Reach vs. Depth: You’ll get eyes fast, but they might not stick for your long-form stuff unless you hook ‘em hard.
After reading all this, I thought, “well maybe I should become a member.” It sounded more positive than negative, and I was curious to see what it had to offer. I made the jump and opened an account since I couldn’t preview the site without creating an account. Having access to the account, I started researching its features and layout, and the first thing I immediately noticed was that it has a kind of childish and immature aesthetic that didn’t resonate with my style. I was just thinking of making small video clips directing the viewers to my website TomT2.0 in hopes of drawing in an audience that reflected my age and interests. I am looking to attract older viewers, closer to my age, who might appreciate my content more than a younger crowd. In the response from Grok, it stated that there were indeed older people on the site, which gave me a bit of hope. Unfortunately, after close to an hour of exploring, I could not find any site or person that might be genuinely interested in my website or the content I wanted to create. If there are older viewers on the site, they keep them well hidden. It felt somewhat disheartening, and I began to wonder if TikTok was really the right platform for me after all. After weighing my options and considering the lack of connections, I ultimately decided that TikTok was not for me and deleted the account. It was beneficial to check it out, though, as it gave me valuable insights into social media dynamics and helped me clarify the type of audience I wanted to engage with.
I am over eighty; therefore, I don’t have an income-based job. However, I have found immense joy and fulfillment in blogging, an activity that has transformed dramatically over the years. As I reflect on my journey, I will cover how technology has changed my blogging experience, from the days of simple text-based posts to the intricate multimedia content I can now create. With the emergence of user-friendly platforms and tools, I can now easily share not just my words but also photos, videos, and interactive elements that engage my readers in ways I never thought possible. This evolution has allowed me to connect with a wider audience, fostering a sense of community and engagement that enriches my life as I share my thoughts and experiences online.
Recently, the emerging AI (artificial intelligence) asset has been a large factor for me, revolutionizing the way I approach my writing process. There were times when I began to struggle with a prompt to write about since most of the significant events in my life have already been covered extensively. This often left me feeling uninspired and at a loss for new topics. However, since the introduction of AI tools into my routine, this problem is no longer evident, providing me with a wealth of ideas and perspectives that I hadn’t previously considered. In fact, I am now a week ahead of blogs just waiting to be released at a specific time, allowing me to focus on refining my work rather than scrambling for inspiration at the last minute. The research time has decreased significantly since AI makes it so simple now, allowing me to access relevant information and insights quickly. AI has also aided me in adding content to my postings, offering suggestions for improvements and enhancing the overall quality of my writing, which has empowered me to express my thoughts in a more articulate and engaging manner.
Another feature I like is screen snipping. It is so easy to insert a graphic by snipping and pasting, which has truly transformed the way I work. I no longer need to download a photo or graphic; with just a few clicks, I can capture any part of my screen quickly. This saves me precious time and helps to keep my workflow smooth and uninterrupted. Now I just snip and paste, allowing me to focus on my projects without the hassle of unnecessary downloads or file management. Overall, this functionality has streamlined my creative process significantly, enabling me to produce high-quality content with greater efficiency.
Yes, I used AI on the post. and it took me less than 45 minutes.
Rover: Hey, Socks! What’s the deal with your windowsill throne? Do you think you’re the queen of England or just auditioning for a feline royal reality show? I mean, lounging there like you own the place, with your snooty little nose in the air while the birds put on their daily aerial show—do you even lift a paw? I can’t decide if you’re a majestic ruler or just an expert sunbather. Seriously, what goes through that fluffy head of yours as you plot world domination from your sunny perch?
Socks: Because I do own the place, Rover. It’s a tough job being this fabulous, but someone’s got to do it! You see, it’s called being superior—a title that comes with the royal perks of elegance and grace, which apparently you missed out on while frolicking in a tail-chasing frenzy. Meanwhile, I’m up here surveying my domain, looking regal from the highest perch while you tumble into yet another round of your never-ending antics. It’s a demanding life of leisure and poise, one that requires a level of finesse that clearly zipped right past your wagging tail!
Rover: Tail-chasing is all the rage! Seriously, you should give it a whirl instead of snoozing like a bear in hibernation. Live a little! There’s nothing quite like the sheer thrill of zooming in circles, wind flapping your fur like those ridiculous car ads, and feeling like the king of your own hilarious chase. It’s not just a game; it’s a cardio workout disguised as fun! Just think, you can turn the most boring day into an epic adventure with a little tail-twirling chaos. So let that inner goofball shine, lose yourself in the delight of chasing your own tail, and who knows—you might just discover the secret to a happier life is all in the spin!
Cat: Napping is basically my superpower, you drooling furball! I’m just recharging my batteries for the crucial duties ahead—like my not-so-secret mission of judging the humans, who hilariously think they run this place. While I blissfully doze, I’m orchestrating my next regal takeover, all while mildly entertained by their daily circus acts. It’s a riot watching them dash around, tackling one errand after another, completely oblivious to the divine joys of a sunbeam or a rogue feather swaying in the breeze. Trust me, my naps aren’t just for show; they’re tactical retreats, moments for plotting my rightful reign over this household!
Rover: Judging? I’d rather lick ‘em! They’re the best treats I could ever imagine. Who else gives me delicious snacks just for sitting? It’s like magic! Every time I hear that rustle of the treat bag, my tail wags furiously, and I can hardly contain my excitement. The way they reward me makes me feel so loved and appreciated; it’s not just about the food, but the bond we share whenever I perform my best tricks.
Socks: Ugh, your standards are so low. I get treats for existing, and it’s called finesse. You see, it’s not just about being present; it’s about the charm and grace I bring to the room. I flaunt my adorable little paws and my irresistibly fluffy fur, and that’s what gets me those delightful snacks. Why settle for less when I can dazzle everyone with my quirks? After all, who wouldn’t want to spoil a pet with such an unmatched personality? It’s all part of the game, and trust me, I’m winning it every day!
Rover: Finesse? More like laziness. Bet you can’t catch a ball like I can! I’ve perfected my techniques after countless hours of practice in the park, chasing after sticks and bouncing balls, leaving my friends in awe of my skills. With my lightning-quick reflexes and unmatched enthusiasm, there’s no doubt that I am the ultimate fetch champion. So, bring it on! Let’s see you try to keep up with my agility and catching prowess!
Socks: Why would I catch a ball when I can catch a mouse? That’s skill, not just slobbering after a toy. While the other dogs might chase after those brightly colored balls, I find a thrill in the chase that’s much more adventurous and exciting. The soft rustling of tiny paws, the quick darting here and there, and the challenge of outsmarting my furry little opponent. It’s a game of wits, and it requires precision and agility that goes beyond mere instinct. I relish the satisfaction of a well-executed capture, proving that I’m not just a plaything chaser but a true hunter at heart.
Rover: Mice are boring. You ever try barking at the mailman? Gets the blood pumping! There’s nothing quite like the excitement of watching him approach, the way my fur bristles with anticipation as I prepare to make my move. The thrill builds in my chest, and I can’t help but let out a few barks, expressing my excitement and guarding my territory. With every delivery, it’s a new adventure, a chance to showcase my protective instincts and earn my place as the watchdog of the house. Plus, the look on the mailman’s face is priceless; it’s like I’m a part of a comedy show that’s never quite the same from one day to the next!
Socks: And wake up the whole neighborhood? No thanks. I prefer a quiet stalk—stealth is my style. There’s something exhilarating about moving silently, slipping through the shadows where only the faintest whispers of wind can be heard. Each paw step is deliberate, calculated, as I navigate across the familiar terrain, evading the blaring sounds of daily life. The thrill of remaining unnoticed, blending into the dusk, allows me to observe without being seen, to feel the pulse of the night without disturbing its serenity. It’s a dance of caution and cunning, where the thrill of the hunt mingles with the peace of solitude.
Rover: Stealth? You mean sneaking into my bed when I’m not looking, like a shadow in the night, quietly tiptoeing across the floor, as if on a secret mission? It’s as if you have mastered the art of silent approach, waiting for the perfect moment to curl up beside me, while I’m blissfully unaware, wrapped up in my dreams.
Socks: It is not sneaking it is claiming what is mine. You are just too dumb to notice.
Rover: Well, I’ll share it with you anyway. You’re not so bad, Socks; in fact, I’ve come to appreciate your company more than I initially thought I would. It’s surprising how two different personalities can find common ground and enjoy each other’s presence. I’ve seen your cleverness in navigating tricky situations, and it’s made me respect you a little more. After all, who would have thought that a dog and a cat could share stories under the stars and laugh at the silliest things together?
Socks: Hmph. You’re tolerable, I suppose… for a loud, smelly beast. Despite your constant racket, which often disrupts my peaceful moments, there’s an undeniable charm in your antics. Your boisterous nature might be overwhelming at times, but it certainly brings a unique energy to the room. I find myself reluctantly drawn to your quirks; the way you bound around with excitement, even if it leaves a trail of chaos behind. So, while I may refer to you as a beast, I must admit that your presence adds a layer of unpredictability that, oddly enough, I can appreciate.
Rover: Wanna chase the squirrel outside together? It looks like it’s darting around in the yard, and I can already feel the excitement building inside me! Just imagine the thrill of running after it, weaving through the trees and bushes while enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. What do you say we head out, let our energy loose, and see if we can catch that little critter before it scurries up a tree?
Socks: …Fine. But I’m leading. When it comes to navigating through this tangled mess, I know exactly where to go. I’ve got a plan in mind, a clear direction that’s been brewing for a while. You may have ideas too, but it’s time to trust my instincts on this one. We can’t afford to waste time wandering aimlessly, and I promise to keep everyone focused and on track. So let’s gear up and follow my lead, because I have a feeling this is going to be quite the adventure.
Here’s a story crafted to keep you guessing until the final line:
The old house on the hill had stood empty for decades, its windows dark and its walls weathered by time. Clara had passed it every day on her way to town, always wondering about the stories it held. One crisp autumn evening, as the sun dipped low, she noticed something different—a faint flicker of light in the upstairs window. Curiosity tugged at her, and against her better judgment, she decided to investigate.
The front door creaked open with surprising ease, as if it had been waiting for her. Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the faint scent of lavender lingered. Jada’s footsteps echoed on the warped wooden floor as she climbed the stairs, drawn to the room where she’d seen the light. The door at the top was ajar, and a soft glow spilled out.
In the room sat a woman, her back to Jada, hunched over a small table. She wore a faded dress, its hem frayed, and her silver hair cascaded down her back. A single candle burned before her, casting long shadows across the walls. Jada hesitated, then cleared her throat.
The woman didn’t turn. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, her voice low and steady.
Jada froze. “Expecting me? I don’t even know you.”
“You don’t need to,” the woman replied. “You’re here for the truth, aren’t you?”
Jada’s heart thudded. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming, hadn’t even known herself until moments ago. “What truth?” she asked, stepping closer.
The woman gestured to a chair across the table. “Sit. I’ll show you.”
On the table lay a small wooden box, intricately carved with swirling patterns. The woman slid it toward Jada. “Open it,” she said.
Hands trembling, Jada lifted the lid. Inside was a photograph, yellowed with age. It showed a young girl, no more than five, with wide eyes and a shy smile, standing in front of this very house. A man and woman stood beside her, their faces blurred by time. Clara frowned. “Who is this?”
The woman finally turned, her face illuminated by the candlelight. Her eyes were sharp, piercing, and oddly familiar. “Look closer,” she said.
Jada studied the photo again, then gasped. The girl’s dress—the same faded fabric, the same frayed hem—matched the one the woman wore now. “That’s… you?” she stammered.
The woman nodded. “I’ve waited a long time for you to come back.”
“Come back?” Jada’s mind raced. “I’ve never been here before.”
The woman smiled faintly, a sad curve to her lips. “You have. You just don’t remember.”
Jada’s gaze darted between the photo and the woman, confusion mounting. Then the woman reached across the table, her cold fingers brushing Jada’s hand. A jolt surged through her, and suddenly, memories flooded in—running through these halls as a child, laughter echoing, the smell of lavender in her mother’s arms. She stumbled back, clutching her head. “What’s happening?”
“You were taken from this house,” the woman said softly. “Taken from me. I’ve been here ever since, waiting.”
Jada’s breath hitched. The blurred faces in the photo sharpened in her mind’s eye—her parents, younger, happier. And then she understood. The woman wasn’t just a stranger. She was her grandmother, preserved by some strange force in this house, tethered to it all these years.
But the real truth hit her as she looked down at her own hands—hands that now shimmered faintly, translucent in the candlelight. She hadn’t just come to uncover a secret. She’d come because she, too, had died long ago, and this house was calling her home.
The key detail—that Jada is a ghost— Did it catch you off guard?
I am sure you have heard, “go by your gut feeling or your first choice is your best choice.” Throughout my 80 plus years, I have discovered that this is what has worked out for me many times in various situations, whether it was in making significant life decisions or simply choosing what to eat for dinner. Trusting my instincts has often led me to unexpected opportunities and fulfilling experiences that I might have missed had I overthought my choices. I would like to improve my skills at this though, learning to balance that initial intuition with thoughtful consideration, so I can refine my decision-making process, ensure I am making the most informed choices, and perhaps even develop a deeper understanding of when to trust my gut and when to analyze the details more closely.
A premonition is a strong feeling that something is about to happen, often without clear evidence. It’s like an intuitive hunch or gut instinct warning you about a future event—sometimes positive but often connected to unease or danger. It reflects your mind picking up subtle cues from your environment that your conscious brain hasn’t processed yet. Historically, people have linked premonitions to dreams and sudden chills, and while science doesn’t fully endorse it as a “sixth sense,” psychology suggests it could arise from pattern recognition or heightened awareness.
Improving premonition isn’t like training a muscle—you can’t hit the gym for it—but you can sharpen related skills. First, pay attention to your intuition; track those weird vibes and what follows, using a journal to spot patterns. Second, notice your surroundings—body language, tone shifts, or weather changes may signal what your brain’s recognizing. Meditation can quiet mental noise, helping you hear your inner voice. Trust yourself more; doubt drowns instinct, so if something feels off, don’t brush it aside.
It’s not foolproof—your brain can misfire with anxiety or wishful thinking—but over time, you might get better at sifting the real signals from the static. I have never had gigantic premonitions like a gigantic world-changing event; rather, mine have manifested as subtle indications, mere whispers of what was yet to come, often tied to events that have unfolded near me in my life. There have been times when a voice or spirit has aided or prompted me into these premonitions, guiding my intuition in ways I couldn’t fully comprehend. Who knows if that is a fact or a figment of my imagination? Throughout my life, I have encountered people with unusual skills and heightened sensitivities, and many have told me that I possess a gift of my own. I responded, “what are you imagining?” as a way to probe deeper into their perspectives. Maybe I do have a gift, and if it is indeed true, it would be fascinating to explore the depths of this unknown ability and see how it could be utilized in my everyday life. The thought of harnessing this potential stirs a curiosity within me, making me wonder about the possibilities that lie ahead and how they might intertwine with my reality.
Daily writing prompt
What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?
Here’s a list of things that most people would agree should be avoided:
Lying – Deliberately deceiving someone for personal gain or to harm them.
Stealing – Taking something that doesn’t belong to you without permission.
Cheating – Being unfaithful to wife.
Hurting others – Physically or emotionally causing harm to people or animals.
Breaking promises – Failing to follow through on commitments without good reason.
Wasting resources – Carelessly using up things like food, water, or time that others could benefit from.
Blaming others unfairly – Shifting responsibility onto someone who isn’t at fault.
Being cruel – Intentionally causing suffering for no justifiable reason.
So, what is my biggest sin? I would say my biggest fault is taking people too much for granted. Here are people I should have been more considerate of instead of taking them for granted.
My parents – They were always there for me throughout my childhood and beyond. They fed me, they protected me from harm, and they never stopped loving me, even when I was a jerk and made mistakes. Their unwavering support and guidance shaped who I am today.
My grandma – I grew up with her by my side, and she played an immensely important role in shaping my character and guiding my decisions. She helped me in the future with what she said when I was young, sharing wisdom that stayed with me throughout my life.
My wife – I don’t know what I would do without her. She has been my rock and my support through thick and thin. Yet many times I take for granted that she will be there until death do us part, always ready with a kind word or a warm smile, making each day brighter and full of love.
My two sons – They are an important part of my life. Yet again I have taken them for granted, not fully appreciating the joy, laughter, and lessons they bring to each day, reminding me of the beauty present in the simplest moments we share together.
My two stepdaughters and two stepsons – They are an important part of my life, bringing their unique perspectives and experiences that enrich our family dynamics and create lasting memories together.
The American way of life – Emphasizes individualism, personal freedom, and the pursuit of happiness, where citizens have the opportunity to achieve their dreams through hard work and determination, set against a backdrop of diverse cultures and values that coexist and contribute to the nation’s unique identity.
The first responders and military– who bravely put their lives on the line each day, ensuring our safety and security in times of crisis and conflict.
Friends, relatives and neighbors-You meet thousands of people throughout your life, you experience conflicts and disagreements, and you develop many friendships along the way. These friendships, which often bring joy and support, many times I have taken for granted, and they eventually disappear, leaving behind a sense of nostalgia for what once was and a realization of how important these connections truly are. It serves as a reminder to cherish and nurture the relationships that influence our lives so profoundly.
Finally, as I age, I am becoming more aware of my shortfall and am attempting to stop taking people for granted and show more appreciation at the moment. This realization has led me to reflect deeply on my relationships and the little acts of kindness that often go unnoticed. I find myself making a conscious effort to express gratitude, whether it’s a simple thank you for someone’s help or a heartfelt note acknowledging their support and presence in my life. I understand now that these small gestures can strengthen bonds and foster a sense of community and love among those I cherish. Embracing this mindset has not only enhanced my interactions but has also enriched my own sense of fulfillment and happiness as I navigate this journey of life.
These seasons have a unique charm. Spring offers fresh vibes with temperatures usually between 50°F and 70°F, bringing blooming flowers, longer days, and crisp air. Fall contrasts with a cozy, winding-down feel—vibrant leaves in red, orange, and gold, and a temperature range starting warm and cooling to perfect sweater weather.
Spring: This season is like the universe hitting the snooze button on winter—it’s all about waking up (and sneezing, thanks to all those flowers). Temperatures start off as if they just rolled out of bed—chilly in the 40s or 50s°F—and then slowly decide to get their act together and climb into the 60s or low 70s, depending on where you hide on the map. It’s when the world finally says goodbye to winter: trees are like “Look at me, I’m budding!” and flowers like tulips and daffodils are popping up like they just won a game of whack-a-mole. The air is filled with that fresh smell of rain and soil, making you wonder if the outdoors has finally taken a shower. Days get longer, sunlight becomes your new best friend, and there’s this quiet buzz—like everything’s stretching after an epic catnap. It’s the Goldilocks zone of weather—not too hot, not too cold, but just right for procrastinating in the garden.
Fall: Nature’s version of a slow-motion exit from summer. Temps start off in the comfy high 60s or 70s°F, then suddenly decide they’re auditioning for a horror movie and plummet into the 50s and 40s! The highlight? The leaves! They’re like confetti at a parade gone wild, transforming into a kaleidoscope of red, orange, and yellow, only to land by your feet in crunchy piles reminiscent of potato chips. The air takes on a crispness that feels like nature’s way of saying, “Prepare yourself!” while wafting hints of decaying leaves and woodsmoke, if you’re lucky enough to live near a cozy bonfire instead of a stinky dumpster. It’s that magical sweater time when you finally get to show off that oversized knit you bought on impulse—cozy without the threat of frostbite! And the days get shorter, creating a mix of nostalgia and an overwhelming urge to binge-watch your favorite shows under a mountain of blankets.
Time in the military between 1964 and 1966 shaped me in profound ways. It was not just one teacher who influenced me, but rather the unique combination of experiences that came from being away from home for the very first time. The vast number of people I encountered, each hailing from different walks of life and various locations across the United States, provided invaluable lessons that extended far beyond the classroom. The school of hard knocks truly became my best teacher, as I learned to adapt, persevere, and appreciate the diverse perspectives around me. These experiences not only forged my sense of resilience but also deepened my understanding of camaraderie, commitment, and what it means to serve a greater purpose. Each moment spent navigating challenges alongside my fellow servicemen and women was a steppingstone that contributed to my personal growth and shaped the person I am today.
From 1964 to 1966, during the Cold War, the U.S. became more involved in Vietnam, a period characterized by escalating military presence and political tension. I vividly experienced the early buildup of troops, which increased dramatically from about 16,000 in 1964 to over 180,000 by the end of 1966, reflecting a significant commitment to the conflict. This time was marked by intense training and the looming possibility of combat for those poised to be deployed, as the nation grappled with its foreign policy decisions. Friends and fellow soldiers around me prepared for the arduous journey ahead, sharing hopes and fears about what awaited them in the jungles of Southeast Asia. I was sent to Germany instead of Vietnam, where I engaged in various military exercises and learned valuable skills, yet I will always wonder why I was assigned there, particularly since everyone I was drafted with went to Vietnam, leaving me with a lingering sense of curiosity about the path not taken and the experiences I missed during that tumultuous era.
I learned to adapt quickly, whether it was navigating basic training, handling diverse equipment, or facing the uncertainty of deployment to Viet Nam, where every day brought new challenges and opportunities for growth. For many, this period forged a profound sense of identity and purpose, even if it came with hardship and moments of doubt. This transformative time in my life not only changed my outlook on life but was also instrumental in shaping how I treated people around me. During those intense experiences, I discovered that most people are inherently good and are trying to do what is best in the situations they find themselves in, often showing remarkable resilience and kindness in the face of adversity. That period was a life-changing era for me, filled with lessons that continue to resonate. I will never regret that I served and am incredibly proud to say that I am a United States veteran.
One might wish they could spend more time pursuing what truly matters to them—whether that’s connecting with loved ones, engaging in heartfelt conversations that strengthen relationships, learning something new that sparks joy and fuels curiosity, or simply finding moments of peace amidst the chaos of everyday life. The search for meaningful experiences often leads individuals to prioritize what brings them fulfillment and happiness, allowing them to create cherished memories and deepen their understanding of the world around them. Ultimately, this quest for significance is a fundamental aspect of the human experience, guiding each person’s journey towards a more enriched and satisfying existence.
For example, carving out time to read a book, take a walk in nature, or work on a passion project could bring a sense of fulfillment. It’s less about adding “more” to an already full day and more about prioritizing what feels meaningful.
Therefore, my wish would be that I have more time to spend with loved ones, with each moment becoming a cherished memory that we can look back on fondly. I am at the age where I have realized that I took way too many people for granted, overlooking the value of their presence and the warmth of our shared experiences. Now, with the lessons learned from time slipping away too fast, I would like to rectify this fact by intentionally carving out time in my schedule to reconnect, listen to their stories, and create new adventures together that celebrate our bonds. Embracing the opportunity to nurture these relationships will not only enrich my life but also allow me to express my gratitude for their unwavering support and love.
On May 21, 2024, I posted this blog. I have been interested in AI (artificial intelligence) lately and I thought I would try something. The first section is the original post and the second is the same post, but I used AI to enhance the post.
ORIGINAL
I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. MyBloodclot (Podcast). After the event I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over. I am just a mere mortal. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth. Searching for the purpose of a second chance I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life. Last August I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site. Since then, I have posted many events. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure.
The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man. His faith of God and life after death was strong.
I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary so they can live a good and productive life.
I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me was good years together and do not regret the years together.
I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride.
I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!”
This is the same posting but was enhanced with AI.
I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. MyBloodclot (Podcast). After the event, I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” This profound question resonated within me, leading me to reflect deeper on the moments that shaped my existence. I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over, some stories yet to tell. I am just a mere mortal, trying to navigate the complexities of life. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets; rather, I face each day with the wisdom that only comes from lived experience. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth, each year contributing to my understanding of joy, sorrow, triumph, and loss. Searching for the purpose of a second chance, I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life, hoping that sharing my journey might resonate with others facing their own trials and tribulations. Last August, I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site, driven by a newfound sense of urgency to connect and share. Since then, I have posted many events that reflect my growth and transformation. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure, but I am committed to exploring this path, whatever it may reveal about my legacy and the impact I can have on others.
The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing in all situations, often putting others’ needs before his own. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man; rather, he stood up for justice and compassion in the community. His unwavering faith in God and life after death was strong, providing him with the strength to face life’s challenges with grace. He inspired those around him to reflect on their own values and encouraged them to pursue a path filled with kindness and integrity, leaving a mark that would remind everyone of the importance of living a life rooted in love and morality.
I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary, always striving to be a positive influence in their lives. I want them to recall the moments we spent together, the lessons I tried to impart, and the values I hoped to instill in them so they can live a good and productive life filled with integrity, kindness, and perseverance. It’s my wish that they carry forward the teachings of hard work and compassion, using these principles as their foundation in navigating the complexities of the world as they grow older and make their own decisions.
I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me were good years together, full of fond memories and shared experiences, nurturing our bond as a family and building a solid foundation for our future. I wish for them to reflect on the moments of joy, laughter, and even the challenges we faced, knowing that all of it contributed to a rich tapestry of life we created together, and that they look back at our time together with a sense of fulfillment and appreciation, rather than any sense of regret.
I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride, knowing that I am committed to being a positive and supportive presence in their journey. My aim is to build a strong bond with each of them, filled with love, trust, and respect. I want them to feel comfortable sharing their thoughts and dreams with me, fostering an environment where they can grow and thrive. As we create lasting memories together, I aspire to be someone they can rely on, offering guidance and understanding as they navigate the complexities of life.
I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!” Throughout my life, I have strived to embody kindness and integrity in everything I do, making a concerted effort to lend a helping hand or offer a listening ear when needed. It’s my desire that those who crossed paths with me will remember not just the surface-level interactions, but the genuine compassion and understanding I aimed to share with them. In reflecting on my journey, I hope they can recall moments of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and the small gestures that made a difference, ultimately leading to the sentiment that I was indeed a good man.
What do you think? I noticed that the podcasts have more than doubled in length. That is understandable because it has been difficult for me to enumerate on a topic.
Why I Don’t Want a Tattoo—at over 80, I’m Good Without the Ink.
At over 80 years old, I’ve survived enough trends to know they come and go faster than a cat on a hot tin roof—and let’s be honest, I don’t need them sticking to me like a bad burrito. These days, tattoos are popping up everywhere, like mushrooms after a rainstorm, and I swear there’s a parlor on every corner, faster than gas stations did back in the ’60s! I heard that the tattoo industry is on track to make a whopping $4 billion by 2032. My grandkids are walking canvases with their dragons and quotes, and I tip my hat to the artistry—really, I do! But when they ask, “Grandpa, why don’t you get one?” I chuckle and say, “Because I don’t want a tattoo, never have, and frankly, at my age, the only ink I want is in my printer ink.”
Back in my day, tattoos were for sailors, bikers, or fellas who’d seen the inside of a jail cell. I did my time in the Army—drafted in ’64—but I skipped the anchor or “Mom” on my bicep. Didn’t see the point. Now, I watch guys half my age strut around with sleeves and chest pieces, and I get it—it’s their way of telling the world who they are. Me? I’ve got over 80 years of stories in these bones. Don’t need a needle to spell them out.
For one thing, I’ve never been a fan of sticking around. I spent decades playing musical chairs with furniture alongside my wife, only to swap it out when she decided plaid was so last season. I’ve traded cars like Pokémon cards, flipped hobbies like pancakes. But a tattoo? That feels like signing up for a lifetime membership to a club I might’ve been totally bamboozled into joining. At my age, I’d just be left staring at some faded doodle, pondering why that abstract dragon seemed like a genius idea back in 2025!
And the pain? No thanks, I’ve got a full roster of aches already—my knees sound like a creaky old porch swing auditioning for a horror movie, and my back throws a fit if I sit too long, like a toddler denied dessert. Why add a buzzing needle to my list of woes? I’ve heard it’s not so bad, but I’ve also caught wind of tough guys wincing over rib tattoos like they just spotted a spider. I skillfully dodged shots as a kid and have grumbled my way through every flu jab like it’s a rite of passage. I’d much rather save my grit for hauling firewood than proving I can endure a tattoo session—it’s not like I’m trying to win an Olympic medal in pain tolerance!
But the real kicker? I like me as I am. This weathered hide—scarred from a fall off my bike at 12, wrinkled from summers fishing with my boys—tells its own tale. I don’t need ink to mark where I’ve been. Laugh lines, earned from a lifetime with my Wifes, say plenty. A tattoo wouldn’t add to that—it’d just feel like graffiti on a house I’ve spent decades building.
Choosing not to get one isn’t about being stubborn or old-fashioned; it’s more like a wise old owl saying, “Nah, I’ll pass!” After over 80 years of dodging trends, I’d like to think I’ve earned the right to say, “Thanks, but I’ve got my own vintage style!”
Maybe one day I’ll surprise them all—shuffle into a parlor and come out with a grizzly bear on my shoulder. Just kidding, I learned from all these years to not be so stupid. But for now, I’m content with my blank canvas. It’s served me well this long. Why mess with a good thing?
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
Death, the last and most enigmatic journey we all must take, has been a topic of fascination, fear, and speculation throughout human history. What lies beyond this great unknown? Here’s a speculative exploration into what might await us after we cross the threshold of death.
Cultural Perspectives on the Afterlife
Ancient Egyptians: Believed in a complex journey after death, where the soul would navigate through various trials in the underworld, aiming to reach the Field of Reeds, a paradise mirroring life on earth but without its hardships.
Hinduism: Advocates the cycle of samsara – birth, death, and rebirth – where one’s actions (karma) determine the nature of their next life. The ultimate goal is moksha, liberation from this cycle, merging the soul with the divine.
Christianity: Traditionally teaches about Heaven and Hell, where one’s soul goes after judgment based on their life’s deeds. Heaven is described as an eternal paradise, while Hell is a place of eternal separation from God.
Buddhism: Similar to Hinduism in the concept of rebirth, but with an emphasis on Nirvana, a state of liberation from the cycle of suffering where the self is extinguished.
Secular Modern Views: With the rise of scientific thought, many today consider death as the end of consciousness, where nothing follows, or perhaps a return to the energy and matter from which we came.
Scientific Speculations
While science cannot directly explore the afterlife due to its nature, there are intriguing studies:
Neuroscience: Some researchers study near-death experiences (NDEs), where individuals report sensations of leaving their bodies, moving through tunnels, or encountering light. These experiences are often attributed to brain activity under extreme stress or lack of oxygen, but they fuel speculation about what consciousness might be like after death.
Quantum Mechanics: Some fringe theories suggest consciousness could be a quantum phenomenon, potentially surviving death in some form, though this remains highly speculative and outside current scientific consensus.
Philosophical Considerations
Philosophers have long pondered:
Continuity of Self: If there’s an afterlife, how would one maintain personal identity? Would we recognize ourselves or others?
Ethical Implications: If there’s judgment after death, what does it imply about ethics in life? The idea of karma or divine judgment might influence our actions while alive.
The Nature of Time: Post-death existence might not be bound by time as we understand it, offering a different perception of past, present, and future.
Personal Experiences and Anecdotes
Near-Death Experiences: Stories from those who’ve clinically died and been revived add a personal dimension to the afterlife debate. These accounts often describe peace, a life review, or meeting deceased loved ones.
Mediumship and Spirit Communication: Though controversial, experiences with mediums or séances contribute to cultural narratives about communicating with the dead.
Conclusion
While we can’t visit the afterlife to report back, the tapestry of human belief, experience, and scientific inquiry paints a complex picture where every culture, religion, and individual might have their unique take on what lies beyond death. Whether it’s an eternal paradise, a cycle of rebirth, or simply a return to the cosmic soup, the mystery of what comes after death continues to intrigue, comfort, and challenge us.
In this exploration, we’ve barely scratched the surface of one of life’s greatest mysteries. Perhaps, in the end, the journey beyond death is not about the destination but the reflection it brings to our lives here and now. It challenges us to ponder the choices we make, the connections we foster, and the legacy we wish to leave behind. As we navigate our existence, we become intertwined with the experiences that shape our understanding of mortality, prompting us to appreciate the fleeting moments and cherish the relationships that enrich our lives. This contemplation of life and death invites us to embrace a deeper sense of purpose, urging us to live fully and authentically, knowing that each step we take is imbued with meaning and significance.
For most of my life, I have tried to be something I was not, always feeling the heavy weight of expectations from those around me. Many times, throughout my journey, I heard phrases like “You should be like, whatever name you want to insert,” echoing in my mind. In my younger years, it was particularly striking; I would often hear, “you should be more like your brother.” The idea that I should mirror someone who is five years older than me seemed absurd at times. After all, each of us has our own unique path to walk. I guess I was a handful when I was young, full of energy and curiosity, eager to explore the world in my own way. Going to school, I faced similar sentiments from teachers and peers alike, hearing the same refrain: “You should be more like Johnny.” As if my worth could somehow be measured against his achievements or behavior. Even at church, the message was clear but stark; I was told I was a sinner and should strive to be more like the saints and apostles. These constant reminders emphasized the notion that I should mold myself into an ideal that fit neatly within the societal norms. Well, I got the picture; I should be somebody I am not and become someone who fulfills the criteria of those around me, fitting into a box that I never truly belonged in. Yet, deep inside, I yearned for the freedom to embrace my authentic self, to carve out my own identity free from the shadows of others.
My teenage years were very difficult for me. For some reason, I was angry and mad all the time, feeling as though a storm was brewing inside me, one that I couldn’t quite understand or control. I hated myself and my situation, constantly questioning my choices and my identity. Was it because I was trying to be somebody I was not, desperately seeking approval from my peers and struggling to find my place in the world, or was it just the hormonal change that everyone goes through during that age? The confusion often left me feeling isolated, as if I was trapped in a tumultuous sea with no way to swim to shore. Each day felt like a battle, where the weight of expectations bore down heavily on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe. Simple tasks like getting out of bed or wearing a smile seemed daunting, as if they required an energy I lacked. My relationships with family and friends began to fray at the seams, with misunderstandings and frustrations bubbling to the surface. One will never know if it was a combination of both, a perfect storm of teenage angst that shaped my experiences, but those years left a lasting imprint on my soul, instilling a sense of resilience in me that I would later learn to harness as I navigated adulthood.
I was drafted into the army later, and looking back now, I think this is one of the best things that happened to me in that period. This was in the Viet Nam era, but fortunately, my service period was served in Germany instead of Viet Nam, unlike the seven other men drafted on that day. They all went to Viet Nam, facing the uncertainty and dangers of a war-torn landscape. Why I went to Germany and not Viet Nam is something I will never know, and perhaps it was simply a twist of fate. In the service, you meet all kinds of people from many different areas of the country, bringing with them a rich tapestry of experiences and backgrounds. Because of that, I realized that the human race is not that bad; most people, despite their situations, are inherently good. All the ones I met were basically good and were just trying to get through the challenges in front of them, forging friendships that transcended our differences and shared struggles that created a bond that I still cherish to this day. The camaraderie formed during that time taught me invaluable lessons about empathy, understanding, and the importance of supporting one another, regardless of the circumstances we faced.
I have spent maybe two thirds of my life trying to be somebody that I am not. You may believe this or not, but one day I was taking a walk around the greenbelt near our home, which is a tranquil place filled with the rustling sounds of nature and the fresh scent of a small creek. There was nobody around, and I was just having some silent time to my own, allowing my thoughts to drift and my mind to clear. Suddenly, this loud voice came out and spoke, breaking the peaceful silence of my surroundings. “Tom, stop trying to be somebody else, just be yourself! Your purpose in life is to be yourself!” Those words echoed in my mind, touching something deep within me. After that profound event, I made the conscious decision to just be myself, embracing my true identity with all its complexities and imperfections. Since that time, I have been at peace and am genuinely enjoying simply being myself. I even like myself, flaws and all. This is one significant and positive change I have made in my life, a breakthrough that has opened up new avenues of self-acceptance and fulfillment that I had never experienced before.
The Accumulation of Email Addresses: A Modern Digital Phenomenon
In today’s digital age, the accumulation of email addresses by individuals has become a significant and widespread phenomenon. From personal to professional, and from temporary to permanent, the number of email addresses one might acquire can be quite extensive. Here’s a look at why and how people end up with multiple email addresses.
Why Multiple Email Addresses?
Personal Use:
Primary Personal Email: Most individuals start with one email address for general personal use, which might be used for social media, personal correspondence, or shopping.
Spam Management: Many people create additional email addresses specifically for less important or potentially spam-generating activities, like signing up for newsletters or online promotions.
Professional Needs:
Work Email: Employment often necessitates a professional email address provided by the company. This can change with each job or even within the same company as one’s role evolves.
Freelancers and Entrepreneurs: Those with multiple gigs or businesses might have separate emails for each venture to keep their professional communications organized.
Privacy and Security:
Disposable Emails: For privacy concerns or to avoid spam, people might use services that offer temporary email addresses that can be discarded after use.
Activity-Specific Emails: Some prefer different emails for different types of online activities (e.g., one for banking, another for gaming).
Educational Purposes:
Student Emails: Educational institutions often provide email addresses to students which might be used for academic purposes and then abandoned or retained for alumni networks.
Digital Footprint Reduction:
Anonymous Use: Creating new email addresses can help manage one’s digital footprint, allowing individuals to segment their online presence for different purposes without cross-contamination of personal data.
How Many is Too Many?
The number of email addresses one might acquire can vary widely:
Minimalists: Some might stick to just one or two email addresses, valuing simplicity and ease of management.
Average Users: Many might have between three to five, covering personal, work, and perhaps a couple for privacy or spam management.
Digital Enthusiasts: Tech-savvy or privacy-conscious individuals might have upwards of ten or more, tailored for specific uses or to maintain anonymity across different platforms.
Management Challenges
With each email address comes the challenge of management:
Password Management: Keeping track of passwords for multiple accounts.
Email Overload: The risk of information overload, where managing multiple inboxes becomes a task in itself.
Identity Consistency: Ensuring that the use of different emails does not lead to confusion or loss of important communications.
In conclusion, the proliferation of email addresses in one’s digital life reflects not just the expansion of personal and professional spheres but also an increased awareness of privacy, security, and digital management needs. While having multiple email addresses serves various practical purposes, it also demands a level of organization and vigilance to ensure that each serves its intended purpose without overwhelming the user. As digital practices evolve, so too will the strategies for handling the myriad emails that populate our inboxes, turning the management of email addresses into an art form of the digital era.
When my son was growing up, during his teenage years, he was a typical teenager who thought he had all the answers to life’s questions and challenges. His confidence often led him to make bold decisions that sometimes worried me, as I recognized the turbulent nature of that age. He navigated through those challenging years with a mix of rebellion and curiosity, learning valuable lessons along the way about responsibility and the complexities of life. As he faced conflicts with friends, fluctuating emotions, and the pressures of schoolwork, I watched him grow into a more understanding and resilient young man. Through it all, I was there to support him, guiding him gently when needed, while also allowing him the space to learn from his experiences and mistakes. Ultimately, he made it through those challenging years, emerging wiser and more mature, with a clearer understanding of the world around him.
Somewhere when he was near twenty-five, he said to me, “Dad, I am just amazed how smart and wise you became in the last ten years. I often find myself recalling the lessons you’ve shared over the years, from your stories of perseverance to your insights on life and relationships. Your experiences have shaped not only your character but have also left a profound impact on my outlook. I hope to carry some of that wisdom into my own life as I step into adulthood and encounter my own trials and triumphs. As I face new challenges, I will remember your words of encouragement and the way you approached life’s obstacles with resilience and grace. I will strive to pass on these valuable lessons to my children, if I have any, because I believe that sharing this knowledge will help shape their understanding of the world and equip them to navigate their own paths.”
This was the best compliment I could have ever received. It made my day, lighting up my spirits and filling me with an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude. Every detail of that moment is etched in my memory, and I still remember it after 25 years, as if it happened just yesterday.
The U.S. National Debt is the total money the federal government owes to various creditors, including individuals, companies, foreign governments, and even parts of itself like Social Security trust funds. It results from the government spending more than it earns in taxes and borrowing to make up the difference.
The national debt is likely hovering around or exceeding $36 trillion, based on its trajectory in recent years—it crossed $34 trillion in early 2024. The exact figure fluctuates daily due to new borrowing, interest payments, and economic conditions, but you can think of it as a massive IOU that’s grown over decades.
The government borrows by issuing Treasury securities—bonds, bills, and notes—that investors, including banks, pension funds, and foreign countries like Japan and China, purchase. A significant portion (around $7-8 trillion) is “intragovernmental debt,” where one part of the government owes another, such as loans from Social Security surpluses.
The debt increases due to budget deficits: when yearly spending exceeds income. For instance, in fiscal year 2023, the deficit was about $1.7 trillion, mainly due to expenses for defense, healthcare (Medicare/Medicaid), and interest on existing debt, along with lower tax revenue. Deficits usually rise during crises—like wars, economic downturns, or pandemics—as seen with the over $3 trillion deficits for COVID-19 relief in 2020-2021.
Breaking It Down
Debt-to-GDP Ratio: A key metric. It’s over 120% of GDP (around $28 trillion), meaning the debt is greater than the economy’s annual output. For context, it was 35% in 1980, 60% in 2000, and increased after the 2008 financial crisis and the 2020 pandemic.
Interest Costs: The government pays interest on its debt, and rising rates have made this more expensive. In 2023, interest payments reached about $660 billion a year—more than the defense budget—and could exceed $1 trillion if rates remain high or debt increases.
Public vs. Total Debt: The “public debt” (owed to outside creditors) is about 75% of the total. The rest is that intragovernmental piece.
Pros: Borrowing allows the government to pay for essential projects—like roads and stimulus—without raising taxes right away. It has helped keep the U.S. economy stable, as the dollar’s status as a global reserve currency makes Treasuries a reliable investment.
Cons: Critics say it’s unsustainable. If interest costs eat up too much of the budget, it squeezes out other priorities. Plus, future generations inherit the tab. Some warn of a tipping point where creditors lose faith, though that’s debated since the U.S. can print dollars (unlike, say, Greece).
Hawks: “We’re drowning in debt! Cut spending or hike taxes now!”
Doves: “Relax, low rates and dollar dominance mean we can handle it. Focus on growth.”
Reality: Congress keeps kicking the can, raising the debt ceiling (119 times since 1944) rather than solving it. Last big standoff was 2023; next one’s brewing.
In short, the national debt is a giant, complex machine—part lifeline, part ticking clock. It’s not “good” or “bad” in isolation; it’s about how it’s managed. It must be dealt with sooner than later. What would happen to you if the country went bankrupt?
March 17th is St. Patrick’s Day, a celebration tied to St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, who’s credited with bringing Christianity to the island in the 5th century. The “everyone becomes Irish” thing is a modern, mostly American twist. It started with Irish immigrants in the U.S., especially in cities like Boston and New York, where they threw parades and parties to flex their identity in the face of discrimination during the 19th century. By the mid-20th century, it morphed into a cultural free-for-all—bars, beer, and shamrocks for everyone, Irish or not. Today, it’s less about heritage and more about a shared vibe: 2023 stats show 32 million Americans claim Irish ancestry, but millions more join the party anyway. It’s a globalized excuse to let loose, with over 150 countries hosting events.
The green connection is simpler but layered. Ireland’s nickname, the Emerald Isle, comes from its lush landscapes—think rolling hills and damp cliffs. Early Irish folklore tied green to nature spirits like leprechauns, and by the 18th century, it became a nationalist color. During the 1798 rebellion, the United Irishmen waved green flags against British rule (red back then for the Brits). St. Patrick’s Day picked up green as a symbol of Irish pride, especially in the diaspora. Fun fact: St. Patrick was originally linked to blue—early church art shows him in blue robes—but green overtook it by the 19th century, cemented by shamrocks (which he supposedly used to explain the Trinity). Now it’s everywhere: green beer, green rivers (Chicago’s been dyeing theirs since 1962), green hats. Marketing sealed the deal—green sells the holiday.
So, everyone “becomes Irish” during festive occasions because it’s a contagious cultural meme that transcends borders, embracing a spirit of unity and celebration that is both inviting and infectious. This transformation is not merely about donning green attire; it symbolizes a deeper connection to Ireland’s rich heritage and traditions, evoking images of rolling emerald hills and vibrant community gatherings. Green, as the chosen uniform, serves as Ireland’s badge of honor, representing not only the lush landscapes of the country but also the resilience and pride of its people, and as such, resonates with those who partake in the festivities, fostering a sense of belonging and joyful camaraderie among revelers worldwide.
Dealing with negative feelings can be tough. Here’s a rundown of the approaches that helps me.
Acknowledge What I’m Feeling Don’t shove it down or pretend it’s not there. Name it—anger, sadness, frustration, whatever it is. Recognizing it can take away some of its power and help you figure out what’s driving it.
Talk or Write It Out I talk to someone I trust, and vent to them. No one around? I Grab my laptop and dump my thoughts there. It doesn’t have to make sense—just let it flow. Sometimes seeing it outside my head makes it less overwhelming.
I Distract myself I Dive into something that pulls my attention—I may try watching a war movie. For some reason I have a strong interest in the stress of WWII in Europe. I may go take a brisk walk and do a little huffing and puffing. I have been known to throw things or scream and yell. I have been told I am scary when I get mad. So, I try hard to contain anger feelings.
Take a nap When it’s intense, I slow down, fortunately I go to sleep very easily and wake up refreshed and relaxed. Many times, after a short nap, my feelings have calmed down, allowing me to regain focus and clarity. I find that this simple act of resting not only rejuvenates my body but also helps to reset my mind, providing a much-needed pause.
Cut Yourself Some Slack
Negative feelings are a natural part of life. They do not signify weakness or failure. Allow yourself to experience these emotions without the burden of guilt for not maintaining a “positive” mindset at all times. It’s not about solving every issue; it’s about recognizing that you have some control. Remember, we are human, and perfection is not the goal.
Daily writing prompt
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?
For the last two years, this is where I spend more time than any other thing I do, engaging deeply with the activities and relationships that have enriched my life, discovering new interests, and continuously learning from my experiences; it has become not just a routine but a vital part of my daily existence.
I have learned a lot in this venture. All your life you learn, and this adventure is no different; in fact, it has been a profound journey of discovery and growth. Podcasting has emerged as the buzzword of the day, capturing the interest of audiences worldwide. Therefore, I have inserted an audio podcast into each posting, allowing me to connect more intimately with my audience. I do not use my own voice for the same reason I do not sing. My podcast page has remarkably become the most popular destination on my website, drawing in listeners and fostering a community around shared interests. I am amazed at the podcast downloads that have surged, illustrating the power of engaging content. Additionally, linking to other pages or reputable websites has become a popular feature; these hyperlinks enrich the experience for my readers, making each posting more interesting and informative. Furthermore, the ability to change the size of an image enhances the visual appeal of my posts, allowing for a more personalized touch. One must note that the introduction of AI (artificial intelligence) has opened up exciting new possibilities and has become another powerful tool in my ever-expanding toolbox, enabling me to refine my content and improve engagement. This combination of innovation and creativity continues to drive my passion for blogging and sharing knowledge.
I do this for fun. I am retired and not tied to worrying about having enough income to pay monthly bills or provide for growing children. I am selling nothing on my website; rather, I view it as a creative outlet where I can share my experiences and reflections. I am just exposing my life, adventures, and thoughts to the cyber community, hoping to inspire or entertain others along the way. Maybe if I ever have many thousands of subscribers, I may try to generate a small source of income, but that is not my primary focus. The satisfaction I get is the comments and likes I receive from my subscribers, which motivate me to continue sharing my journey, knowing that my words resonate with others and contribute to a sense of connection within this vast digital landscape.
No one knows how long this ride will continue. It may go for ten years or end tomorrow when my time on earth is over. As long as I am able, I will be here commenting about anything that piques my curiosity or inspires my thoughts. Whether it’s a fleeting moment of joy, a profound insight, or even a mundane occurrence that strikes a chord, my reflections will find their way to this platform. One will never know what my next blog will be about, and therein lies the excitement of this journey; each post is an opportunity to explore new ideas, engage with my audience in unexpected ways, and contribute to an ever-evolving tapestry of experiences and perspectives that we all share in this digital realm.
Algorithms are everywhere, quietly steering your day-to-day life in ways you might not even notice. They’re not just tech buzzwords—they shape what you see, hear, buy, and even how you move through the world. From the moment you wake up and check your smartphone, algorithms curate your news feed, filtering information based on your interests and past behavior. They play a pivotal role in guiding your shopping decisions, determining which products are highlighted based on your search history and preferences. When you engage with social media, algorithms influence the posts you encounter, often prioritizing content that resonates with your psychological tendencies or emotional state. Here’s how they can affect you, grounded in real stuff: they analyze patterns to improve your experience, but also to serve advertisers, creating a cycle where your personal data is constantly collected and used to predict your actions before you even realize you’re making a choice.
What You See Online: Ever scroll X, TikTok, or YouTube and feel like it’s reading your mind? That’s algorithms at work. They analyze your likes, clicks, and watch time to feed you content—sometimes keeping you hooked longer than you planned or nudging you toward certain ideas.
Shopping and Spending: Amazon’s “People who bought this also bought…” or price changes on flight tickets? Algorithms. They track your habits, predict what you’ll buy, and sometimes tweak prices based on demand or your browsing history. Ever notice ads following you after a search? That’s them too.
Getting Around: Google Maps or Waze doesn’t just show you roads—it runs algorithms to dodge traffic, estimate arrival times, and suggest detours. Miss a turn, and it recalculates fast. Your commute’s smoother (or not) because of it.
Entertainment: Netflix, Spotify, or gaming matchmaking (like in Call of Duty) use algorithms to pick your next show, song, or opponent. They’re guessing what keeps you engaged—sometimes nailing it, sometimes pushing that one weird movie you’ll never watch.
Work and Money: Job applications? Algorithms might scan your resume before a human does, deciding if you make the cut. Investing? Trading algorithms move markets faster than you can blink, affecting stock prices or your robo-advisor’s picks.
Big Picture Stuff: Algorithms can influence elections (targeted ads), health (diagnosing diseases via AI), or even law enforcement (predictive policing). They’re not perfect—bias in data can lead to unfair outcomes, like rejecting qualified people or amplifying echo chambers. In many cases, these biases can perpetuate systemic issues, deepening divides within society and making it crucial for us to scrutinize and regulate how these algorithms are developed and employed, ensuring they serve the greater good without compromising fairness and equality.
How Algorithms Censor
Content Filtering: Platforms like X, YouTube, or Facebook use algorithms to flag or hide stuff that breaks their rules—think hate speech, nudity, or misinformation. An algorithm might scan your post for keywords (e.g., slurs or “vaccine lies”) and either bury it (reduce visibility) or yank it entirely. X’s got a history of “shadow banning”—where your tweets don’t show up as much if they trip certain triggers.
Personalization Gone Wild: Algorithms tailor what you see based on your data—clicks, likes, location. If they think you won’t like or shouldn’t see something (say, political takes they deem “unsafe”), it might not hit your feed. This isn’t always “censorship” in the evil overlord sense—it’s often just them guessing what keeps you scrolling—but it still limits your view.
Ad and Money Pressure: Algorithms prioritize what makes cash. If a post or video gets demonetized (e.g., YouTube flagging “controversial” content), it’s less likely to surface. Creators self-censor too, dodging topics that tank their reach. You see less of the raw stuff as a result.
Government or Legal Push: In some places, algorithms block content to comply with local laws—think China’s Great Firewall or EU hate speech regs. Even in freer spots, X might throttle posts if a court order or copyright claim (DMCA) hits.
Does It Affect You?
Yep. you might not see every reply to a viral post—some get muted for “low quality” (algorithm speak for “we don’t like this”). Search “raw” topics (say, war footage), and results might lean sanitized or skewed, depending on the platform’s lens. Ever feel like the internet’s hiding the good stuff? That’s the censorship vibe kicking in.
The Flip Side
Not all “censorship” is bad—spam, scams, and gore get filtered so you don’t drown in trash. But the line’s blurry. One person’s “misinfo” is another’s truth, and algorithms aren’t great at nuance—they’re blunt tools enforcing someone’s rules.
They’re tools, not gods. A good algorithm saves time; a bad one wastes it or screws you over. If a site algorithm buries your posts because you don’t engage enough, or a loan algorithm flags you unfairly, you feel the sting. But when Spotify nails your playlist? You’re vibing.
Point is, they’re not just affecting your life—they’re shaping it, for better or worse, based on data and design. AI and algorithms are here to stay, time to get used to it and accept it.
Using AI to generate content does not inherently constitute plagiarism, but the context and manner of use are crucial: it is essential to understand that while AI can produce text that is original in structure and form, the ideas or themes expressed may still reflect the vast array of existing works from which the AI has learned. Therefore, creators must take responsibility to ensure that the content generated aligns with ethical standards, acknowledges sources where necessary, and respects intellectual property rights. Additionally, the clarity of intent and the transparency of usage play a significant role in distinguishing between acceptable use and potential misappropriation, emphasizing the importance of thoughtful engagement with AI technology in content creation.
Plagiarism typically involves passing off someone else’s work or ideas as your own without proper acknowledgment. If AI generates content based on existing data or patterns from the internet or other sources, and you present that content as your own without citation, one could argue it’s akin to plagiarism.
AI as a Tool: If you use AI as a tool — much like you would use grammar checkers, thesauruses, or translation services — to assist in creating or enhancing your own original work, it’s generally not considered plagiarism. However, transparency about the use of AI might be necessary, especially in academic or professional settings where originality and citation practices are strictly evaluated.
Disclosure: In many contexts, especially academic or journalistic ones, it’s becoming standard practice to disclose the use of AI in content creation. This is similar to crediting a co-author or acknowledging assistance from others.
Copyright and Ownership: Another layer to consider is copyright law, which can be complex with AI-generated content. Who owns the content created by AI — the user, the AI developer, or is it considered public domain? This depends on jurisdiction, specific terms of service of AI tools, and how the content is used.
Ethical Considerations: Even if not legally plagiarism, there are ethical considerations. If you’re using AI to generate content for an essay, exam, or any form where the expectation is for human-produced work, it could be seen as dishonest.
To summarize:
Using AI isn’t plagiarism by default, but:
Presenting AI-generated content as entirely your own work without proper disclosure can be considered unethical or even plagiarism in certain contexts, such as academic settings or professional environments where originality is highly valued.
Always check the norms or rules of the specific environment where you’re using AI (e.g., academic policies, workplace guidelines, or publishing standards) to ensure compliance and ethical use.
If in doubt, it’s best to disclose the use of AI in your work, similar to how you would cite any other source or assistance, to maintain transparency and integrity in your writing and avoid potential repercussions.
Remember, the ethical and legal landscape around AI in content creation is still evolving, so staying informed about current practices and norms is key. As technology advances and the use of artificial intelligence becomes more prevalent in the creative industries, it is crucial to understand not only the legal implications regarding copyright and ownership but also the ethical considerations involved. Engaging in ongoing education through webinars, articles, and discussions within professional communities can help ensure that creators not only protect their work but also contribute positively to a rapidly changing environment where collaboration between human creativity and machine intelligence is increasingly common.
Knocking on Wood: People still say “knock on wood” to ward off jinxing themselves after mentioning good fortune—like hoping a job interview goes well. It’s rooted in ancient beliefs about spirits living in trees, but today it’s more of a casual reflex. You’ll hear it in offices, homes, even on podcasts. On occasion I have been known to knock on wood.
Friday the 13th: This remains a big one. Some avoid major decisions or travel on this day, fearing bad luck. It’s tied to the number 13’s ominous rep (think elevators skipping the 13th floor in buildings) and Friday’s association with misfortune in Christian lore. Horror movies keep it alive—Jason Voorhees still haunts the collective psyche. I have thought about this, but I never changed anything because of that date. My oldest son was born on Friday the 13th and that was not bad luck
Crossing Fingers: Wishing for luck by crossing your fingers is everywhere—before tests, games, or even lottery ticket scratches. It’s a holdover from early Christian gestures for divine favor, now secularized into a quick “hope this works” move. I am guilty of this.
Black Cats: Crossing paths with a black cat still spooks some, especially around Halloween. Shelters report lower adoption rates for them because of the lingering “bad luck” stigma from witch-hunting days, though younger generations seem less fazed. I have heard of this, and a few times one has crossed my path, but I didn’t think much about it.
Spilling Salt: Tossing a pinch of salt over your left shoulder after spilling it persists in some households. It’s from the idea that salt was once precious and spilling it invited the devil—countered by blinding him with a throw. More common among older folks or in superstitious families. A few times I jokingly threw salt over the shoulder.
Beginner’s Luck: The belief that newbies have an edge—like winning at poker or slots on their first try—is alive in casinos and sports bars. It’s less a ritual and more an expectation, but it shapes how people approach games. Yes, I have played new games and just said, it is just beginners’ luck
Avoiding “Jinxing” It: Saying “don’t jinx it” when someone predicts success—like a sports team winning—reflects a modern twist on superstition. It’s big in fandom culture; think baseball fans refusing to mention a no-hitter in progress. Never thought of this much.
Lucky Pennies: “Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck” still has traction. Kids and some adults grab coins off the sidewalk, though inflation’s made pennies less thrilling. Oh, my wife always says this, so I started saying it.
Mirrors and Umbrellas: Breaking a mirror (seven years bad luck) or opening an umbrella indoors still gets a wince from some. These are fading with younger crowds, but you’ll catch them in rural areas or among those with “old school” grandparents. When I was young It was the big item.
Sports Superstitions: These are huge. Fans wear the same unwashed jersey for every game, or players follow precise pre-game rituals—like LeBron James tossing chalk or baseballers avoiding stepping on foul lines. The 2025 Super Bowl probably saw plenty of lucky socks and barstool traditions. Nothing here, never was much of a sports fan.
Superstitions in the United States today are a mix of old traditions carried over from various cultural influences—European folklore, African diaspora beliefs, Native American customs—and newer quirks shaped by modern life. While many Americans might not take them too seriously, they often linger in habits, phrases, or knee-jerk reactions, subtly influencing decisions and interactions. For example, individuals might avoid walking under ladders or breaking mirrors, fearing bad luck, even if they don’t fully believe in the underlying myth. Additionally, the act of tossing salt over one’s left shoulder or knocking on wood has become so ingrained in everyday vernacular that it often occurs unconsciously. As we navigate through life’s uncertainties and challenges, these superstitions provide a sense of comfort and control, acting as little rituals that help people cope with life.
In conclusion, I would say I am superstitious, but I never let a superstition change or lead my life. Instead, I view these beliefs as intriguing cultural artifacts that give insight into human psychology and our shared history. While sometimes I find myself acknowledging certain rituals or omens, they serve more as whimsical traditions rather than guiding principles; I prefer to take charge of my decisions and paths, ensuring that my actions are based on rational thought and personal values rather than unfounded fears or expectations. This balance allows me to enjoy the rich tapestry of beliefs around me without becoming a prisoner to them.
The political atmosphere in the United States is marked by deep polarization, widespread dissatisfaction, and heightened tension, creating an environment where constructive dialogue is increasingly rare. Many Americans feel exhausted and disillusioned with the political system, perceiving it as riddled with inefficiencies and corruption, with only a small minority believing it functions well. This sentiment has been exacerbated by the proliferation of partisan media that amplifies divisions rather than uniting perspectives. As a result, the electorate grapples with feelings of helplessness and frustration, leading to a pervasive sense of alienation from elected officials who seem disconnected from the everyday struggles of their constituents. Consequently, this growing discontent fuels calls for systemic change, as citizens increasingly demand political leaders who genuinely represent their interests and prioritize the common good over party allegiance.
Trust in government institutions, including the federal government and the Supreme Court, is at historic lows, driven by perceptions of dysfunction, partisan gridlock, and the influence of special interests. As citizens observe an increasing inability for lawmakers to reach consensus on critical issues, many feel disillusioned about the efficacy of these institutions meant to serve the public good. This skepticism is further compounded by the perception that decisions made by the Supreme Court are often swayed by political considerations rather than impartial justice, leading to a growing divide between the populace and the entities designed to protect their rights. Consequently, as trust erodes, civic engagement and participation in democratic processes also decline, creating a troubling cycle where the very foundations of governance are undermined, leaving citizens questioning the legitimacy and motives of those in power.
Political discourse is increasingly divisive, with both major parties—Democrats and Republicans—drifting further apart ideologically, fueled by extreme candidates and a lack of compromise in Congress. This polarization is not only evident in election campaigning but also in the way members of Congress interact and negotiate on key issues affecting the nation. As debates become more intense and bipartisan cooperation wanes, the ability to foster dialogue and achieve consensus diminishes, leading to legislative gridlock that frustrates citizens who seek meaningful change. Consequently, many voters feel disillusioned, as they witness the widening gap between party platforms, creating a political environment where moderates struggle to find common ground and alternative voices are often drowned out by the cacophony of partisanship.
Public sentiment reflects frustration with prolonged, uninformative election cycles and a growing sense that elected officials prioritize self-interest over problem-solving. Many citizens feel disconnected from the political process, as they witness endless debates that often lack substantial policy discussions. This disillusionment is compounded by a perception that campaign promises are routinely sidelined once candidates assume office. As a result, voters increasingly crave transparency and accountability, hoping for leaders who will genuinely listen to their concerns and take meaningful action to address pressing societal issues. It is this collective yearning for authentic engagement and change that fuels a deeper unrest among the electorate.
Despite high voter turnout in recent elections, this engagement appears driven more by fear and anger than optimism, with many viewing the stakes as existential for their side. The prevailing sentiment among voters suggests that they feel compelled to act in response to the perceived threats to their values, rights, and livelihoods, often fueled by divisive rhetoric and sensationalized media coverage. As a result, the political landscape has become increasingly polarized, with individuals rallying behind candidates and parties that resonate with their fears rather than a hopeful vision for the future. This environment not only diminishes the possibility of constructive dialogue but also fosters a reactive approach to governance, where decisions are made in the heat of emotional response rather than through thoughtful consideration of long-term impact.
Globally, similar trends of polarization and unease are evident, though specifics vary by region; in some areas, political divisions have intensified due to socio-economic factors, while in others, cultural clashes have emerged as primary drivers of tension. As communities grapple with differing ideologies and beliefs, the resulting discord often leads to a heightened sense of insecurity and conflict, further complicating efforts toward unity and understanding across diverse populations.
Overall, the atmosphere is one of unease, mistrust, and a struggle for political direction amidst competing visions for the future, as various factions grapple with divergent ideologies and varying priorities that clash with one another. This pervasive sense of uncertainty has led to a palpable tension within the community, further exacerbated by the ongoing debates regarding policies and leadership that seem to divide rather than unite the populace. As different groups advocate for their distinct perspectives, the public finds itself caught in a maze of conflicting narratives, creating a breeding ground for discontent and skepticism toward those in power. It is sad that a country that has so much is so divided.
Hello from the TomT 2.0-man cave on March 10, 2025! I’m sitting here, imagining me at 100—hopefully still kicking, maybe with a few more wrinkles and a lot more stories. I don’t know where I am as I read this—maybe in a cozy chair with a cup of tea, or maybe in some high-tech pod with a robot nurse. Either way, I hope I am smiling.
Right now, I’m over 80 years old, living through a time that feels like a reality show gone wild! The world’s a crazy circus—debates about AI taking over our jobs, climate change melting our ice cream, and space travel like a never-ending game of ‘Where’s Waldo’ are everywhere. I can’t help but wonder what you’ve been up to since then. Did we finally figure out how to live sustainably, or did we just build a giant hamster wheel to solve climate change? Did people really hop on a rocket to Mars, or is that just another episode of “The Binge-Worthy Space Adventures”? Or did we somehow manage to surprise ourselves with something even more bonkers?
I hope you’re proud of what you are trying to do now, as it requires immense courage and determination. I’m genuinely curious about the journey you’ve embarked on and I’d love to know how it all turned out in the end. Did I take the risks I’m thinking about, the ones that can seem daunting but ultimately lead to growth? Did I let go of the stuff that’s weighing you down, both physically and emotionally, allowing yourself the freedom to soar into new opportunities? Embracing change can be challenging, yet it’s often necessary to reach our full potential and to discover who we truly are.
What’s life like at 100? Are you surrounded by family, friends, or maybe some cool new tech that keeps you company, like virtual reality experiences that let you revisit cherished memories? I hope you’ve got a few good laughs left in you—perhaps funny anecdotes from your younger days that never fail to bring a smile. And maybe you have a piece of advice for the younger generation, who are still sweating the small stuff in 2025; it’s important to remind them to cherish each moment, focus on what truly matters, and savor the beauty in life’s simplicities. After all, every wrinkle and grey hair tells a story, and your wisdom could help shape the future for those who come after you.
Take care, future me! I’m rooting for us to make it to you in one piece, preferably without any embarrassing falls or fashion faux pas. May your life be overflowing with memories worth keeping, filled with laughter, misadventures, and a million lessons learned—like never eat that weird street food again! Here’s to the years ahead—may they be as kind as your favorite pillow and as wild as a cat on a caffeine rush, embracing every twist and turn life throws our way, and savoring the quiet moments as much as those wild parties we probably won’t remember. I hope we remember to relish the little things, find joy in unexpected places, and never lose sight of our dreams.
Interesting about the Monday after Daylight Savings time shift.
The rumor that the Monday after the spring Daylight Saving Time (DST) shift has the highest number of heart attacks in the year has some basis in research, but it’s not entirely accurate to say it’s the “highest” day of the year without context. While various studies have pointed to an increase in heart-related incidents during this time, likely due to the sudden loss of an hour’s sleep and the subsequent stress that follows, it’s important to consider that other factors also play a significant role in these statistics. For instance, lifestyle choices, the prevalence of chronic conditions, and overall health can greatly influence heart attack rates. Additionally, analyzing heart attack incidents over a longer time frame or in relation to other times of the year presents a more comprehensive picture. Let’s break it down with the facts:
Studies have shown a noticeable increase in heart attacks following the spring DST transition, when clocks move forward an hour and sleep is lost. For example, a study from Michigan, analyzing hospital admissions from 2010 to 2013, found a 24% increase in heart attacks on the Monday after the spring shift compared to other Mondays throughout the year. This spike is attributed to the disruption of the body’s circadian rhythm due to losing an hour of sleep, combined with the general trend of heart attacks being more common on Mondays due to workweek stress. Similarly, research from Finland noted an 8% increase in ischemic strokes in the first two days post-shift, reinforcing the idea of a short-term cardiovascular impact. Further evidence suggests that the physiological effects of sleep deprivation can lead to increased blood pressure and heightened levels of stress hormones, both of which may exacerbate underlying heart conditions. Additionally, the shock to our internal clocks has been associated with a range of health issues beyond just heart disease, including mood disorders and metabolic disturbances. As such, the twice-yearly clock change not only affects individual health but may also pose broader public health challenges that warrant deeper investigation and consideration.
However, the claim that this specific Monday has the “highest number of heart attacks for the year” isn’t fully supported. Heart attack rates tend to peak seasonally in winter months (like February) due to factors like cold weather and higher blood pressure, not necessarily tied to DST. In fact, research indicates that the cold can constrict blood vessels and raise the risk of heart-related incidents, exacerbated by the pressure of holiday stress and lifestyle changes during the end-of-year festivities. The 24% increase is significant compared to an average Monday, but it doesn’t necessarily make it the single deadliest day annually—other Mondays or days with extreme weather or holidays (like post-Christmas) might see higher raw numbers depending on the year and region. Moreover, the cumulative effect of various factors, such as an individual’s health history, stress levels, and the overall availability of healthcare during these times, also plays a crucial role in determining heart attack occurrences, highlighting the complexity of this issue. Thus, while there are observable trends, a broader perspective is essential for understanding the risks associated with specific dates or events.
On the flip side, when clocks “fall back” in autumn, studies show a corresponding 21% decrease in heart attacks the following Tuesday, suggesting the extra sleep has a protective effect on individuals’ cardiovascular health. This notable reduction in heart attacks highlights the significant role that sleep plays in the overall well-being of individuals, allowing their bodies to rejuvenate and recover after the stresses of daily life. Furthermore, this phenomenon sheds light on the importance of proper sleep patterns and how they can influence bodily functions. This symmetry supports the idea that sleep disruption, not just the day itself, drives the spring increase in heart-related incidents, underscoring the necessity for adequate rest and the potential consequences of sleep deprivation as we transition into and out of daylight saving time.
So, it turns out the rumor is not just a tall tale: the Monday following the spring DST shift really does see a heart attack increase—about 24% more than your average Monday! This is thanks to folks grappling with their sleep schedules like it’s a game of Twister. The sudden time change throws us all into a tizzy, leaving us bleary-eyed and stressed out. Researchers say this chaos can hit hard, especially for those with heart conditions who might as well be wearing a “please worry about me” sign. But let’s not crown it as the “highest” heart attack day of the year—it’s more like that annoying acquaintance who shows up uninvited rather than an all-out party. The spike is real and backed by science, just not the record-breaker the gossip mill suggests. So, let’s all be smart and take some steps to dodge this time-warping heart attack party by keeping our sleep habits in check and managing stress like a pro before the clock does its little dance! Or maybe stop this time change all together.
When my mother was carrying me, Pearl Harbor happened on December 7, 1941, marking a pivotal moment in history that would change the world forever. I was born in March 1942, just a few months after this event, during a time when the nation was reeling from the shock of war. My parents, like many others, faced the uncertainty of the future, compounded by the military draft that had been instituted to bolster the armed forces. They went to the local newspaper to read through the names of those being drafted, a ritual that many families engaged in to see if their loved ones were called. Among the names listed, they came across the name Thomas Lee, which resonated with them for reasons they couldn’t fully articulate. They found it to be a name that carried a sense of strength and resilience. Therefore, my middle name does not carry any special meaning or significance beyond the simple choice that came from a moment of reflection during tumultuous times, reflecting how life’s circumstances can influence even the smallest details of our existence.
Daily writing prompt
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
The 11:47 p.m. express rattled through the night, its wheels screeching against the tracks as mist clung to the windows, blurring the patchy landscape beyond. I sat alone in the dimly lit car, the only passenger except for a man in a gray coat two rows ahead, shrouded in a shadow created by the flickering overhead lights. His head was bowed, hands folded in his lap, still as stone, a haunting figure amongst the empty seats. Outside, the rhythmic patter of rain began to fall, merging with the train’s incessant clattering—clack-clack, clack-clack—should’ve lulled me to sleep, but instead, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and metal, amplifying the isolation I felt in this moving coffin, and despite the familiarity of the sound, an instinctual dread settled over me, making it clear that something felt off.
I’d noticed him when I boarded, sitting in the corner shrouded in shadows. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even glanced at the conductor who’d passed through an hour ago, his feet firmly planted on the floor as if he were rooted there. The air grew colder, wrapping around me like an unwelcome blanket, and the lights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. I told myself it was nothing—just a late-night train rumbling through the darkness, an overactive imagination running wild after too many ghost stories—but then I saw it: a faint drip beneath his seat. Dark. Red. It pooled slowly, a sinister reminder that not everything is as it seems in the stillness of the night, and my heart raced as the weight of dread settled in my chest, urging me to look away, yet somehow compelling me to stay.
My stomach twisted with anxiety, an unsettling feeling that crept up as I stood, edging cautiously toward the aisle, when suddenly the train lurched violently, throwing me back into my seat with alarming force. The lights died completely, plunging us into an abyss of darkness, the only source of illumination being the ghostly moonlight that filtered through the fogged windows, casting jagged shadows that danced ominously across the carriage. Clack-clack, clack-clack. The rhythmic sound of the train’s wheels on the tracks echoed in the silence, heightening my tension. I held my breath, straining to peer at the figure of the man across the aisle, his face obscured by shadows. He hadn’t flinched, seemingly unfazed by the chaos surrounding us, and that unsettling calm only deepened my unease, making me wonder what secrets he held in the depths of the night.
Then, slowly, his head turned. Not his body—just his head, swiveling unnaturally until his pale face locked onto mine with a chilling intensity. His eyes were wide, unblinking, as if frozen in a moment of eternal dread, and his lips parted in a thin, crooked smile that sent a shiver down my spine. The dripping grew louder, a steady pat-pat-pat against the floor, echoing in the sudden silence that filled the air around us. I scrambled for my phone, hands shaking uncontrollably, heart racing as terror washed over me, but the screen wouldn’t light despite my frantic jabs. The train sped up, the clacking now a frantic roar that drowned out all rational thought, making it feel like my very sanity was being swept away with each relentless beat. I could feel the weight of his gaze piercing through me, and I could not escape the dreadful realization that I was utterly alone in this speeding metal cage.
“Next stop,” a voice crackled over the intercom, distorted and guttural, “is yours.” The words hung in the air, echoing through the dimly lit cabin as anticipation coursed through the passengers. Each traveler exchanged glances filled with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, their minds racing with thoughts of where this next destination might lead. The vehicle slowed, the faint rumble of the engine softening to a gentle hum, while outside the window, shadows loomed large, hinting at the unknown waiting just beyond the doors.
The man stood, his coat swaying as he stepped into the aisle, the fabric whispering secrets of the night. He didn’t walk—he glided, his feet hovering an inch above the floor, as if defying the very laws of gravity. The dripping followed him, a trail of red snaking toward me, pulsating with an unsettling rhythm that echoed the dread building within my chest. I pressed myself against the window, heart hammering like a frantic drum, as he stopped beside my seat, blocking the faint glimmer of streetlights outside. His head tilted, that smile widening until it seemed almost unnatural, stretching across his pale face, revealing an unsettling familiarity. As the air around us thickened with tension, he leaned in closer and whispered, “You shouldn’t have looked,” sending shivers racing down my spine, a warning laced with something far more sinister.
The lights snapped back on, bathing the compartment in a stark, fluorescent glow. He was gone, vanished as if he had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. The seat ahead was empty, the floor spotless, echoing the absence of life that filled the carriage with an eerie stillness. My heart raced as the train slowed, brakes squealing like a distressed animal as it pulled into a station I didn’t recognize, a place that felt foreign and unsettling. The sign outside read: End of the Line. Confusion gnawed at me; my ticket said three more stops were still to come. I grabbed my bag and ran for the door, my breath quickening with each step, but as it slid open with a hesitant creak, I froze. Beyond the platform, there was nothing—just a void, black and endless, swallowing the tracks and suffusing the air with a sense of dread. The silence was oppressive, a heavy blanket weighing down my thoughts, as I stood on the brink of an unknown fate, my mind racing with questions and fears.
The doors sealed shut behind me, confining the turmoil I had narrowly escaped. The train surged forward like it was striving to breach the sound barrier, the wheels producing a steady, rhythmic sound that resonated throughout the car. As I settled into my seat, the flickering overhead lights cast an unsettling atmosphere reminiscent of a haunting film. From the dim recesses at the opposite end of the car, I heard it again: a soft pat-pat-pat, a sound that suggested an imminent threat. I found myself bracing for an unexpected encounter, imagining a figure emerging, perhaps with a sinister intent, to deliver a chilling message. “Your time on earth is over!”
TomT2.0 