Digital Self

   This week, find a blog that is doing just this - gathering information, sharing it with readers, and persuading or motivating readers to take action.  Add your own post, a link to the site, and a summary of the content and motivational strategies the readers use to engage readers. Who do you think this blog appeals to and why?   The blog that I found that is  gathering information, sharing it with readers, and persuading or motivating readers to take action is from  Jeff who works with the NYC Department of Education. Jeff is a humanitarian that is committed to community  development, and the way he creates is through media arts platforms to inform, build, and create sustainable circumstances in urban environments. Through Jeff's blog post he highlights   the need for innovative business and synergy in urban communities. Jeff doesn't just blog to promote a cause that he sees necessary for the community, he also records music to have an aud...

         Quarantine for me felt like a really lonely time.     There were ten weeks at the start of it all where I was laid off of work and I was pretty much stuck at home. I live alone so there was really no contact with my friends or family. I sat at home watching tv and eating a lot which of course meant I did nothing but gain weight for those two and a half months. I spent my 24th birthday at home alone. No party to celebrate and no friends to celebrate with. Finally it was announced that we were required to return to work and I thought that meant that COVID was pretty much over and that the world had opened back up again. Obviously I was wrong I went back to work but majority of my friends who didn’t have to go into an office were too scared to leave their homes. I guess their fears were justified but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck.        I couldn’t go anywhere but home and work, I couldn’t see anyone outside of my coworkers....

  September 11 “Summer has come and passed The innocent can never last Wake me up when September ends ” On September 11 th , 2001, the world changed. Average Americans were stopped in their tracks by a catastrophe that sent waves of pain and terror across the nation. The moment we found out that the towers had fallen was burned into our mind, a snapshot from a Polaroid that we each step into when we think about that day. In the background of my memories, I hear an Alan Jackson song eternally asking us all “where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?” My mom and dad were making the twenty-minute drive into town to do some grocery shopping when they heard the radio announcer telling them the northern tower was hit. Half-way to town, they decided the groceries could wait. They turned the car around immediately to come back home to watch the news. My brother and his girlfriend skipped school that day to celebrate her birthday. She turned 18 on September...

My Escape          Free. That was the first thing I felt when I stepped out of the car onto the fresh grass and began to walk through the hard crunchy gravel that led up the drive. I could feel the fresh air gently caress my face as the wind blew lightly. The air was warm and thick as it wrapped itself around me, feeling like an embrace from an old friend. I felt serene for the first time in what felt like forever as I heard the bees buzz by and the wind chimes tinkle in the distance. In the quiet of that town, I felt a deeper connection to myself. It may have taken three hours in a small cramped car bursting at the seams with luggage, but I was home. I was finally home.        The air was clean, the sun was bright, and the sky was a warm blue. Instead of concrete and pavement being the main surface, grass overtook the entire area as far as the eye could see. Flowers bloomed in all colors, making the grass appear a grounded rainbow. It w...

  What am I doing here? Should I just go? Am I wasting her time? The doctor had  just left the room, leaving me on the crinkling bench. A clipboard with a questionnaire is in my hands. The scene is all too familiar. Just a couple weeks ago I was here, same room, same crinkling, same paper. I look down at the questions. They ask about the severity of symptoms. Reflecting on the answers to the questions brings me a certain dread. They’re more severe than last time. Will she be mad? Will she judge me? No that can’t be the case. She’s a medical professional and here to help. The number of questions with the answers five or four greatly outweighs those with ones.  I sit back for a moment and look around the room. It seems colder than when I started, a little brighter, and a little smaller. I can hear the nurses and assistants outside, working as I dread the return of my doctor. A couple weeks prior, the same questionnaire graced my presence for the first time. After ...

It happened for the first time in 1999. The family was blindsided. No one saw the signs - not even Grandpa. The coma snuck in and struck. For two paralyzing weeks, Grandpa laid motionless. The pain proved to be short lived for heaven's sake. He woke up.  Grandpa would be awake for the next eight years. In early March 2008, the thief returned to steal his consciousness. However, this suffering wouldn't be as short-lived.  I remember the day with great clarity. The walk from the bus stop to my house took about two minutes. As I reached the porch, my mom was waiting for me. She gave me the news. I was eight at the time and the whole situation was difficult to wrap my head around. A coma? What the heck is that? Will Grandpa be okay? Will he survive? To make matters worse, Grandpa was in New Orleans at the time with Grandma. Thousands of miles away from home. Grandma found him in the hotel room. My parents, aunts and uncles flew down there immediately. Us kids were left scattered a...

I attended a private Lutheran school called Guardian Lutheran from Preschool to 8th Grade. I don't regret going there, and despite not being a Lutheran I don't feel like that affected how people treated me. It was a good school, I had a lot of fun. As a student of Guardian, I went to two different camps. The first was Pleasant Lake, which I went to twice in 3rd and 4th Grade. This was I think late May, or the very beginning of June. The other was Camp Cavell, which I only went to in 8th Grade, and it was in November. Both camps are Christian-based, although I’m not sure if either are specifically Lutheran-based. Cavell was fun, but there’s one specific event that I want to talk about: The Square Dance. Okay it’s not really a square dance. That’s the codename that people that went to Camp Cavell use to tell their siblings as to make sure they aren’t prepared. And it worked, fellow students kept saying “ah now we’re going to do the square dance.” The chaperones get around to te...

     Detroit in the early 2000’s was everything no one would had imagine it to be. The city was vibrant and undermine corruption was booming. The infamous “Malice at The Palace,” tore the rough off The Palace of Auburn Hills and ushered the Pistons into an NBA Championship after taking down the Los Angeles Lakers. I grew up on the westside of the of the Motor City. My neighborhood was filled with quiet the bustle, and even though majority of us were black, a white or Mexican family would move-in, here and there. I remember this family who had a son name Luke and a daughter name Hannah. They always smelled funny, like wet clothes tangled together and left in the washer for too long without going for another spin, just walking around smelling funny. To be honest, those families never stayed for long, but I never wondered why until now.               My grandmother’s house had become home to me and my eight sibl...

          My Life- A memoir By the time I was born, the family dog was already a big dog with lots of fur and long leg. I refer to it as a family dog here because it existed before I was born but as soon as I came to life it became my dog. It never left my side. When I finally moved out of home to go to college, my mother reluctantly gave me a photo album of some of my childhood photos and she remained with some of them. It was emotional for both of us because she was accepting that was no longer the young girl who always clung to her dress. I, on the other hand, was looking into the abyss of adulthood. When I go through the photos my mother gave me on that day, I realized just how much the dog was special to me. It was always by my side when I could barely walk, beside me when I took my first ride around the estate, and as I walked to the school bus. I remember it being fun and energetic until it was not. One day as I was lying on my bed as a sixth-grader doing...