This is my very first article and it is written to criticise the whole mindset that fuels the neurodiversity movement in the first place.

Starting college can feel like jumping into the deep end — exciting, overwhelming, and everything in between. As a sophomore at an HBCU, I’ve had my fair share of lessons, wins, and setbacks. This blog is my way of sharing what I’ve learned so far — from balancing academics with social life, handling money struggles, protecting my mental health, and everything in between. Whether you’re just getting started or finding your way back, I’m here to walk with you through it all.

I wear a butterfly on my pocket—not for decoration, but as a symbol. Of grace. Of hope. Of the light that found me when I thought I'd never be seen again. Ask me about it, and I'll tell you a story that begins in the woods behind a graveyard… and ends with a key to my own front door.

Some days I suffer from having no filter and some days I am as quiet as a church mouse. Everyday I try to be 100% me but it can be difficult in a world that is not always accepting of my shade of weird.

one simple process doesn't mean its too good I'm mad so it all goes in the trash because you created it therefore your the dog I'm the super human and I won because your don't know what our doing so other things can happen. View my thing carefully because it just might hurt you when it intended not when you wanted to add to it.

Nothing but cake for me, myself, and everything I have—whether it's taken, given, or even stolen, what stolen, how?... Cake is my favorite treat; it’s a little slice of happiness that makes everything better. No matter what happens in life, the sweetness of cake lifts my spirits. It doesn't matter if it’s a birthday celebration or just an ordinary day, having cake feels like a special moment just for me. When I take a bite, it’s like all my worries fade away, leaving only the joy of this delightful dessert. Cake is more than just food; it’s a reminder to savor the little things and enjoy every sweet moment! "Simply I shouldn't haven't to savor the cake of the cake meaning everything...I want it all back to normal, lets try a simple chocolate cake."

You can lead a horse to water Mr. Neese.... You can't make them drink the water. O but the argument goes from two ages they say you can drown him says son while Papa says it's not good water to drink precisely fooled by his hooves not wanting to further he's tired in his age wise to know that water is polluted with rubbish and last campers of the decade who threw their trash out instead of picking up the dirty diapers or the packages the steak came on or the batteries that sat and corrosion built up around the ends saying it's waste and old news. Today's people don't respect the land to throw trash in a dumpster instead of out the car window or to leave their trash all over a beautiful camp site like as if it was the holiday inn and the house keeper be by soon to pick up last night's garbage.

Sometimes, it’s not our reality that needs changing — it’s our view of it. We walk through life with assumptions, past experiences, and invisible filters that shape how we interpret everything and everyone. A moment that feels like rejection to one person might feel like redirection to another. A failure to one may look like a seed of growth to someone else. Perspective is a lens, and unlike facts, it can be reshaped. When we learn to pause, challenge our inner narratives, and see from another angle, we open the door to empathy, clarity, and possibility. In a world that often demands certainty, choosing to see differently is a radical act. And sometimes, that small shift in how we look is all it takes to begin again.

There’s a growing trend online that doesn’t get nearly enough scrutiny. People are confusing confidence with credentials. And it’s getting dangerous.

In our ongoing look at American Independents, we’ve already explored who they are and how they’ve evolved over the decades. Today, let’s dig into where things stand now — and what might lie ahead.

Should, We the People, really be surprised that there were 10 people grouping together to plan an attack on ICE agents?

Evil never portrays a laugh, a smirk, or a smile. It blinks you in eye, smacks your lips, and stuffs your nose. One way out is to believe there is one.

I’m not an economist but reflecting on the recent financial fluctuations and general state of affairs, I believe there is a vital element the experts have overlooked. Marbles.

Now that we're getting into how it started for me,we're going to take a look at how it went. Ninth grade.

Passing a construction site, yesterday, I parked my car alongside the roadway and watched for about half an hour while workmen methodically dismantled a building that had served, faithfully, for years as an elementary school. My gaze tracked a crack in the old sidewalk alongside what was left of the south wall, up the front steps, toward the side door, and wandered into fuzzy memories of Bobby pulling Paula’s hair in geography class and Freda kissing Bif on the playground near the swings. Both felonies, now, but at one time regarded as almost a rite of passage.

Every masterpiece, every impactful story, every profound human interaction carries within it a hidden architecture – a "creative code" that dictates its resonance. As "Unseen Architects," our mission is to peel back the layers of the obvious and decipher these silent languages of expression. And where better to begin than at the very threshold of a story: its opening line. A single sentence can act as a master key, unlocking worlds, setting tones, and imprinting indelible impressions. But how? What precise combination of words, rhythm, and intent transforms a simple declaration into an enduring fragment of literary power? It's not magic; it's code.

A convicted child therapist proves what ethics professionals already know: credentials don't protect people—ethics do.

DEAR ASK A PUNK - I’m 28 years old and I’ve been punk since I was 14. I went to every show (not that we had many of them here in a tiny town in the middle of huge ol’ Texas), skateboarded everywhere, bought a guitar, played in my bands, partied and drank and had what I thought was a good time. I also grew apart from my family and did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of and was basically a pain in the A to everyone for a long time. But things are different now. I got saved (and sober) six months ago and now I’m getting my life on track and figuring out what I’m going to do next that’ll glorify His name and make me a more worthy person. I’m torn between shutting the door of my past completely or reaching back and trying to pull some of my former friends out with me. So should I go back and become a punk preacher or should DIY also apply to saving yourself? …Saved.

Science confirms fish feel pain. So why do we treat recreational killing like a rite of passage instead of what it really is—domination with a nostalgia filter?

Land of the stupidity & life of a scam. America is Quite Literally ass backwards. Everything that's different is shunned, everything that is not "in line" disappears...