So, a poem on being done with it all, except greatness…

I’m fed up, I’m done, but not finished. I can no longer hold back. There is greatness inside of me. I am too sparkly to be dulled. There are too many good ideas. Many great theories to share. I can no longer quell them. Ineptness from “superiors” drains me. So, no more talking the talk….

So, do we really change that much after middle school?

So, my sweet and innocent daughter (she really is), got caught up in a not so nice group chat for her theater camp last night. One unsavory chick called out a person saying that they stink and don’t have good hygeine- yadda, yadda, yadda. She didn’t say who they were, but she was being incredibly…