Tag: kindness

let me tell you a story

There is something to be said about the ways a round of interviews during job hunting can help narrow your focus on what it is you do and why. Sure, I get tired of talking about myself all the time (I’m not really all that interesting to be honest), but as you answer the same

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be the good

As I’ve been job hunting these last few weeks, I’ve made a point to look into companies that are doing the kind of work that benefits humanity. Being a tech writer with the ability to explore many different kinds of tech is a wonderful way to learn about new and innovative ways that people are

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what matters is now

For a long time, in my teens and early twenties, I was sure that we would see the end of the world in my lifetime. Part of me clung to science fiction in what I only now recognize as hope that I was wrong, or some unacknowledged notion that even if Armageddon was to happen,

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the morning ritual

Human beings tend toward ritual, even if it is in an informal manner. Take for instance the morning coffee. There is a precise manner and order for arriving at a delicious, hot cup of coffee. For me, that ritual begins after my morning ablution. And, because I’m owned by two cats, it includes their morning

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the day of mothers

Mother’s Day is ostensibly meant as a day that we recognize and honor our maternal figures, the people who gave birth to us, the people who wiped our butts and fed us, the people who cared for us when we were ill or injured. But motherhood is about a lot more than that, and it

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where hope grows

I grew up in Upstate New York, where the very first signs that spring was on the horizon were the daffodils that poked intrepid little heads up through the snows that wouldn’t yet melt for a few weeks (or more). For the longest time, daffodils were my favorite flowers because of that, and they still

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put a little love in your heart

My faith in humanity has been sorely damaged in 2020. I try to believe that people are inherently good, that for the most part we would all do what we can to spare others pain, illness or death. Here lately though, I’m finding it hard to hold on to that belief. For the last twenty

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the writing part of writing

Being an author is an odd sort of thing, I suppose, especially to those who are not *people who write* and especially not for those who also do not read. I was a voracious reader as a child. I absorbed words like a sponge. Stories were vehicles that transported me out of my bedroom and

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the one with the bird

We, here in the US, are barreling into the holiday season with a pandemic and a recession riding shotgun. Or maybe they’re driving and we’re just along for the ride. Either way, it feels like death is hovering over what is meant to be a festive time with family and friends. I’m not the biggest

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