Learning to love life again | Struggling through my 20s hoping for better 30s
The first big move has happened. I no longer attend Wolcott Street School in Le Roy, New York. Corn fields do not elongate my backyard or catch my model rockets durning the summer. We livin’ in the big city now. [insert car brakes screeching, records skipping or nails on a chalk board] Walden wasn’t big city living, it […]
The contents of my 7-year-old self’s diary published without any edits or proof reading. What could I possibly learn from revisiting myself from 20 years past? Let’s find out together.
Ever wonder how Ramblin Randol came about? Without any further ado, And That’s What It’s All About explains it all.
My attempt to switch it up to improve my blogging consistency. Sometimes I just want to talk, out loud and use my hands.
A cardboard box, one sleeping bag and a slab of dense frigid concrete is all I have to get me through the night. I was homeless for one night and was terrible at it.
We live in an imperfect world and bad people will always find a way to inflict harm on their victims, but this doesn’t mean we throw in the towel. We fight.
A personal story about a pain in the ass girl who doesn’t want love and fights hard to not be stereotypical, only to realize (much later) it’s the classic stereotypical romance.
During my post graduate life and the inevitable rejection of potential employers; I’ve taken a stroll down memory lane-lyrically. Won’t you join me?
“Oh, you’re married? Do you have any kids?” “No.” “Really, why not, you’d make beautiful babies!” I don’t think I’ll ever understand the push for women to be considered equal, but peppering married women with the same question of if they’ll have children. I feel like I am in constant question from outside pressures and personal thoughts […]
Originally posted on Red Alert – Red Cross DFW Blog:
By Shannon Randol, intern contributor, American Red Cross I love my two mutts. The pair of them couldn’t be any different. One likes to snuggle on top of my feet and into the nooks of my legs when I’m curled up on the couch, no…
