I came across this video that not only shocked me, but, strangely, moved me (in a weird kind of way). A fifteen-year-old girl, Hannah, posted on her Facebook wall about how crappy and how unfair her life is, because she has to do school and chores at home. She shared this with the entire world on Facebook but blocked her parents from seeing it. Unfortunately for her, her dad, Tommy Jordan, runs an IT company for a living, and, well, let's just say her plan failed. @.@ I would like to transcribe (from the video) what Jordan read from his daughter's Facebook wall: "To my parents, I'm not your damn slave. It's not my responsibility to clean up your shit. We have a cleaning lady for a reason--her name is Linda, not Hannah. If you want coffee, get off your ass and make it yourself. If you want a garden, shovel the fertiliser yourself. Don't sit back on your ass and watch me do it. If you walk into the house and get mud all over the floor that I just cle
I grew up with nursery rhymes. I don't remember actually learning them in kindergarten, but give me one line, and I'll be able to tell you the rest. Well, most of it anyway. I guess Tadika Kiddyhouse did a good job in teaching kids their nursery rhymes. (No, no, no understanding needed. Just rote memorization! Good job!) :D I can remember every word to "Hey Diddle Diddle". If you ask me nicely I can sing it for you :) Hey Diddle diddle The cat and the fiddle The cow jumped over the moon The little dog laughed to see such sport And the dish ran away with the spoon. One question though: Have you ever wondered what these children's nursery rhymes mean? We've always accepted the unacceptable in nursery rhymes. How a cat learned to play a fiddle, how a cow can jump over the moon, how a dog can laugh, and how dishes can elope with spoons. But one nursery rhyme that's kinda got me stumped is "This Old Man." This old man, he played one
After staring at the webpage, unblinking, for the past few minutes, it’s now entirely a blur. I blink, and the small box in the corner seemed to dance in front of my eyes, inviting. I take a deep breath, and release it with a hiss between my teeth. I swallow. What do I have to lose? Finally, I click on the box, and it pops up. Hi, there. I’m Z. What should I call you? Hi, Z. I’m Celine. Hi, Celine. How can I help you today? I pause for a moment, wondering if I should tell this stranger the truth. Something feels like it’s stuck in my throat, and I try desperately to clear it, unsuccessfully. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Can we just chat? Sure, Celine. I understand. We can chat about anything you’d like. Well, how was your day? My day? It’s been a tough one, that’s for sure. In fact, it’s been a tough week. I scratch the top of my head, try to untie a knot I discovered in my hair, and give up. It was okay, I guess. Not so good. Why’s that? I have a diffi
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