humanity

The real lives of businessmen, professionals, the everyday man, stay at home parent, healthy lifestyle influencers, and general feel good human stories.

The tipping of the Libra scales
I don’t follow the stars which is surprising as I’m a witch, but my scientific mind just can’t accept that stars thousands of light years apart that look vaguely like a shape from Earth can impact our personalities. That little contradiction in me does, unfortunately, sound like a typical Libra trait.
By Nadia Cowperthwaite5 years ago in Journal
A Lesson in Never Giving Up
“And please give other foods a try every once in a while. Pizza isn’t the only thing out there.” I’ve been on this call with my mother for over two hours already; you’d think I moved out of the state and not eighteen minutes from her. “Ok mom.” I say, rubbing my forehead, exhausted. “Alright baby, I know your tired and I’m talking your ear off.” “Yea, I’ll do that.” “Ok Sherman, you enjoy your first night on your own. We are proud of you. We’ll speak to you later. Love you.” “Love you too, goodnight.” We hang up and I plop down on the couch I took from my parent’s garage. It’s in great condition but it smells like them, it’s oddly comforting. My place is still pretty bare, but it has all the basic needs. A bed, a couch, shower curtains, microwave, tv, etc. My laptop looms in the distance reminding me of the homework I have to finish. But first, dinner! Mom said no pizza so I won’t get that; but a nice crunchy, cheesy grilled cheese will definitely be the perfect replacement. Plus, it’s free and easy. After putting it together and sliding it into the pan, my laptop pings informing me of a message from a group chat with my friends. In no time I’m fully engaged in a gif battle. It is only when my fire alarm begins to blare that I realize that this quick reply has had my undivided attention for over seven minutes. The smoke that fills is the air is still light, but it burns my nose as I enter the kitchen. “Where’s my fire extinguisher?” I shout frantically as I search around my kitchen. A small blaze is starting and it’s just then that I dart under my sink to look, reaching in blindly, I yank the first thing I feel. It’s cold and hard, pulling it out victoriously, I hear something solid fall. Too busy with trying to put out the blaze, I quickly turn back to the fire. Once it’s out I place the extinguisher on the counter and walk dejectedly to the pantry and pull out some instant ramen. “Day one by myself and I almost burn the place down.” Annoyed with myself I trudge to the living room with my noodles and finish the rest of my homework.
By XXXX5 years ago in Journal
Hand-Drawn Dreams
A metallic clang softly rang out as she held the keys against the door handle, hearing the click of the FOB she pressed her shoulder against the door and used the weight of her body to push it open. Stepping into the apartment her gaze went first to the windows, which reflected the outline of her husband, awash in the warm glow of the kitchen lights. After taking off her shoes and face mask she proceeded to the kitchen sink and counted to twenty while vigorously lathering soap between her fingers. Her husband leaned over and kissed her cheek as he scrubbed away dinner remnants from the wok.
By A. Crossan5 years ago in Journal
Service With a Smile
02/18/21 Is there anything good about February? It is a short, cruel little month, never sure if it wants to be cold and drizzly, or tease with a hint of spring in the air.
By Katie Soleil Wayne5 years ago in Journal
Daydreams Incorporated
Upon a great desk it sits; in the center of a magnificent office, day after day. The scratching of a pen breaks the silence; delicately scrawling signatures across the surface of its pages, the ink cascading into rows of letters and numbers, determining where the money will flow. Pages of blank cheques and notepaper, bound together tightly in a small black booklet, would be leafed through and dictated in various amounts every second Thursday. The golden lettering almost seemed an insult to the scant sums their lines held.
By Joel Dmytrow5 years ago in Journal
Forerunner
Somewhere off the coast of New Zealand to the north, amidst the darkness of the early morning, within the heavy fog and rough seas bounces a fishing trawler. Inscribed on the sides of the trawler in gold lettering reads ’Paradise’, a phrase hardly depicting the current environment. Amongst the spray of sea water and swaying crab cages and scurrying fisherman is seaman Daniel Gitkoh, the forerunner of the ’Paradise’. A freshly, stitched scar is seen across his right brow down to his cheek as is a bruised right eye.
By RG Hawkshaw 5 years ago in Journal
SEEKING OWNER
SEEKING OWNER: Black journal found in airport in Denver, CO, about 10 years ago, around the time the Biden administration took office. It was put away in an office for several years, just recently uncovered during a move. Best I can tell, it looks like it belonged to a nurse around the start of the pandemic. We've included some entries to maybe help narrow the search, so if you, or someone you know, was a nurse in Colorado, (maybe also Georgia) around the 2020 pandemic, that had a hard break up, went through a spiritual awakening, and maybe a witch now, please let us know. I have your journal.
By Autumn Hanks5 years ago in Journal
Thank You for Firing Me
At the end of February I was terminated from my new job. 24 hours prior I was told, “You have my permission to relax. Your job is secure here, we’re just working through details.” Incorrect; I was told that I was “irrelevant” after the person I was hired to replace decided not to leave the company.
By Alyson Kate Long5 years ago in Journal
Following The Path
There was something about this moment that was unlike anything Sam had ever experienced. It wasn’t her long brown hair, glowing brown eyes, or big beautiful smile. It wasn’t holding her hand while she was driving. It was the feeling. There was an energetic rush of warmth that flowed freely between the two of them. Sam knew that this was the epitome of what he longed for, and he was basking in it. It felt like home. Not a single shred of resistance in either of their beings. No masks, no insecurities, just pure light. No anxiety…not even excitement! A simple…knowing.
By Steve Young5 years ago in Journal
Privileged
My journal says "We are made of stardust" on the cover. I made it clear as a child that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, so I received at least one notebook per year as a Christmas or birthday present until I graduated high school.
By Amelia Lee5 years ago in Journal
Juan-Timothee-Chalamet
On his floor mattress, Juan-Timothee-Chalamet repeated the numbers. Zero three, zero four, zero five, thirty-one, thirty-three, forty. Without knowing why, he pronounced them in his grandmother’s thick Argentinian accent.
By Gabriel Brown5 years ago in Journal
Hydrangeas
Thursday 22nd November Today marks my first entry. I'm not really sure how I’m supposed to structure entries so I guess I’ll just offer a stream of my inner consciousness? Okay, here it goes...
By Kelly Shepherd5 years ago in Journal