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Happy birthday, Sowmiya Sasikrishna On this special day, may your heart be filled with joy, love, and inspiration.As you celebrate another year of life, may you continue to explore the depths of mindfulness and self-awareness, just like your father teaches.#HappBirthday

It is beautiful day, a memorable one to you my dear. A reminder of how far you have come in your life and the great things God has done for you. Penninah, it is a more than a year since i met you at your work place, a memory that stuck with me to this very day. Through a flash back, your gesture of kindness and hospitality, touched my heart as you placed a sticker of your smile and warm aura in my mind. I found you so attractive and desired your affection.... only to learn that you were expecting a blessing of a child. Yes, my warmths deemed a little bit until i realized that my touching base with you was divine, natural and beyond attention seeking. A warm ecstatic feeling about you gave me the reassurance, a hope for your love and affection was rekindled, a hope to be part of your blessing Ethan and more importantly a hope to be part of your life. Penninah my beautiful love, today is special, not only to you but to me as well, it is a rare opportunity for me to be chanced to wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. It is an opportunity for you to reflect on life and be thankful. This BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION is special not because it is an addition of another upon your life, but because it is an opportunity for you to look around you and see the good things God has done for you and more importantly his faithfulness upon your own life; --You have to be thankful for the blessing of Ethan and an opportunity for you to whisper to him how happy you are to celebrate your birthday when he is in your life. --You also have to be thankful for having wonderful people around you especially those whom God has place in your life to uplift your spirit when you are down, inspire you, love you and guide you. Knowing you has so far been the most heart warming experience of my life though we have not yet met to share in a moment of Ecstasy, something i am certain will happen. May you live to see more of God's favor upon your life as you age gracefully... Please take note: 1. "Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost." 2. "There are far better things ahead than the ones we leave behind." 3. "Stay youthful by taking care of your mind, body, and soul." 4. "Be patient and understanding with everyone." 5. "Humble's thoughts are; LIVE to LEARN to LOVE~" You are loved, you are desired, you are my warmest thoughts. -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY --

Did you ever notice that sometimes, the older generation are much more laid-back at festivities than young adults who are always tensed about appearances? I suppose the former's age gets muffins on them. It was my mother-in-law's birthday and the day I realised my mind's conscientious density was as lacking as that of a driver tooling his car with water instead of petrol. My family decided on celebrating the occasion at home. The guests for the fiesta included only people from the senior generation. It had been eight months since I was married into a Jain joint family. There were no pretences from them for a newcomer. Each of them were habitual around me. I tried being the same, only I was bashful. But being a discreet, weird, watchful, reflective thinker, only talking where may be necessary, I can say I went overboard with myself. Being the first amongst family and friends to get married, I had always been too apprehensive. The satisfaction of feeling accepted was my target. Even though I might have not needed to, I decided that the best way to express my adoration for the new folks was by impressing them by taking up the task of cooking all by myself with the secret ingredient of love, for the get-together. Earlier, cooking for me used to be all about melting cheese on bread, pun intended. Then I cooked only to find that no one ate it or it was too difficult or only to find that it looked like nothing in the photos of recipes on the internet. Over the years though, I had mastered ‘some' exotic looking dishes. It was a way to show-off my culinary skills and get a few compliments in my kitty. My sister-in-law and I prepared a menu for our little get-together. It all seemed easy (only someone should have told us that if it seems easy, we're doing it wrong). We went over it a million times, always trying to add something better to satisfy our guests and to make it part of the entertainment. Yes, food is the life and soul of the party here. Using the best of my knowledge in the area I tried and included the most delectable and colourful looking dishes to flaunt my skills. Well, cooking is like chemistry. Only by tweaking and mixing the most interesting substances do you get a reaction. In this case reactions would be appreciative or detractive. I sorted out the house to make it look neat before the guests arrived and kept all essentials like water, tissues and food. Sweating the vegetables for flavour, bruising herbs to bring out their full flavour and decorating it with a chiffonade of cilantro was all done. The appetizers which consisted of ingredients like paneer and bread were all prepared and the desserts and cake were baked – all in a birthday's work. It was now time to play the perfect host. A playlist that I compiled earlier with Indian melodies from the past started to buzz. A certain level of joy exuded while I greeted the guests. They hailed in return along with compliments about the décor, the clothes and the aroma of the special chemical tweaks from the kitchen. My timid nature came in the way and we all went about our own ways. Everyone was perfectly dressed. There were games and the whole bunch of elderly visitors enjoyed themselves as if to say nobody was watching them at the fiesta. There was a slice of merrymaking and story baking. The food was served, eaten and then I hit my head. I had liked the look and peel of the dishes but it did nothing to honour my mother-in-law. At the bake of my mind I hoped to turn bake the clock. It so happens that the celebrant didn't eat cakes, English-desserts, English-bread, cottage cheese or any dishes with ketchup which primarily constituted all of the dishes in the menu. My half-baked menu plan was a disaster! The quest to feel a certain way trapped my mind into ignoring the obvious. I expected a litany of salty complaints from my folks but to my surprise the whole situation was ignored. My kind-hearted in-law didn't eat anything but she discounted the situation. My fear of being judged was false. All I can say is that I'm lucky-fluky but that doesn't mean I did the right thing. I did bake a mistake. I put all of the attention to the taste of the food rather than the person who was supposed to be honoured with it. There was no change in the molecular structure and no chemical reaction. Like someone said ‘soiree' seems to be the hardest word. I can only remember one quote by Ben Tolosa- ‘Most jokes come from good intentions – and most mistakes too.' After all, tomorrow is another birthday.

the birthday girl : The place was crowded, the atmosphere was lovely with natural lighting all over. It was perfect for any writer to have his own space to create. there lots of girls who were shouting, singing, dancing and capturing selfies. Suddenly she appeared to fill the place with power, enthusiasm and happiness. her screams of joy were music to my ear, her yellowish dress was a piece of heaven and her hair were chains of gold. she turned around to see our reactions and facial expressions but i was not keen on looking at her face .. that hustle and bustle which i did not belong to made my day and that was enough.

This is a cake which is my first cook.

Today, I read a small introduction to a webinar I am taking through Friesen Press and it told me that I am an Authorpreneur. The term is very unique to me and it made me feel like my life long writing career has become just that, a legitimized career. I have been an Entrepreneur since the age of four with my first lemonade stand out side my parents house. I've always known I was a business minded person and today my writing career has really solidified it's position in my life. I am so overjoyed because the job part finally feels real and to be so open to the world is such an amazing and overwhelming feeling. I am humbled by this new experience. This is truly an amazing moment. In the next post, I'll have some examples of my work for You. My exciting novel "Viktor, Into the Light" will be coming out in the summer of 2020 and my Thanks goes to Friesen Press for making this lifelong dream come true. Viktor, called an "epic" good versus evil story by Friesen Press excites me to tell you about it. He's sexy and moral. He discovers a few things about his family and longs for one of his own. Look for it in the Friesen Press bookstore or eBooks and give a copy to your staff, friends, mother, sister, or your aunties. Viktor is a satisfying read for anyone 14+. Well, I'll post some examples of my work for you now. See you in the next post. Julie Ann

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I don't think I ever felt so strong while feeling so incredibly vulnerable. I tried to hold back the tears behind a forced smile. I couldn't allow myself to break down. I had to be strong for him. He needed me. They needed me. I needed to be their rock. Being away from my oldest son tore at my heart, but I knew I was where I needed to be. I knew he was safe with my parents. Seeing my youngest in an incubator cage hooked up to wires and tubes made me sick. I did everything I could to keep him safe. I was supposed to provide him with a warm and safe place to grow without worries for 9 months, but my body wouldn't let me. My body failed me and it almost failed him. I honestly try not to think about it. Whenever I picture it, I get nauseous and start to cry. It took me days before I could really talk about it. The pain. The blood. The lights. Watching the nurses rush to prep themselves and me for surgery. Being strapped down. Doctors and nurses calling out directions in loud and rushed tones. The pain. Wishing they would just put me under. Wishing it was over. Then came the reassurance from a nurse's comforting hand and I was out. The pain was gone. Or, at least I thought it was. Suddenly, I felt everything again. The cold table underneath me. The straps on my arms and legs. The doctor pushing on my stomach. The gas mask against my face. I could hear those rushed conversations and the beeping of the alarms. I could hear and feel everything but I couldn't move. I couldn't talk. They were about to cut me open and I could feel everything and I couldn't let them know. I was told I stayed pretty calm as I told the nurse it was time. I don't remember calm. I remember panic and pain. I could see the fear in my husband's eyes. The worry that he may never see his wife again or meet his son. I could hear the hesitation in his voice when he was clarifying my wish of “baby comes first. If it comes down to it, save the baby first.” I said this during our first pregnancy as well, and he agreed, but being in the situation where he might actually need to make that decision was a different story, one he was having a difficult time wrapping his head around. He tried to stay calm and not let me see him worry. He went through the checklist. “You want to be cremated, right?” “Yes, and the baby comes first.” “And allow family and friends to say goodbye first?” “Yes, and the baby comes first.” “And then planted with a tree?” “Yes, and Milo comes first.” He looked at me in a way I could never put words to. It was as if by agreeing to my request out loud he was damning me to death, that he was closing the book to my life himself. He eyes screamed while his voice calmly agreed, “and Milo comes first.” His green eyes sparkling from the tears he was trying to hold back. Swollen and red around the edges. Stinging. With a sudden jerk, I hear the words “here we go” as the nurses roll my bed out of the room. He walked with me until he was told he couldn't go any further and our hands pulled apart as I was wheeled in for surgery. The meds had seemed to be helping but part of me knew it wouldn't last. “What if as soon as these meds are done, it starts again?” The nurse reassured me that shouldn't be the case, but it was. Within a few hours after that last drop of magnesium, the pain started again in full force. Then came the blood. A lot of blood. The nurses seemed to stay calm, at least in front of us. But I knew. I knew there was no stopping it. I knew it was time. I needed to call my mom.

The birth of a life changing novel was concieved three days before Christmas. It was 12 in the morning. I was snacking on a pack of saltine crackers with a side of fruit punch. I turned the tv on, and switched it to Youtube. I decided to watch my favorite Youtuber (at the time) Logan Paul. It was around the time he made why the current year was the best year of his life. Who knew the guy who'd screw his life up the next week would change mine forever? Not me of course. I don't regret liking him though. If I hadn't watched his video I would have never thought to write my book. Continue it actually. I remember the exact words that made me start putting my dreams onto a document. “ I bought my first six million dollar house at the age of 22.” It might not have been those words exactly, but it was something like that. I thought to myself, “ If he's 22 and a millionare, why can't I be 15 and a millionare?” There were plenty of kids my age making almost a million dollars a year. Here I was sitting on the couch watching someone live their dream. Why couldn't I do the same? So it began. I opened my laptop, and made a new document named 12 Hours. It wasn't just him that motivated me, it was the future I saw for myself. I saw my book becoming a bestseller and even a movie. I saw myself going to countless meet and greets and accepting awards. I would even go in the mirror, dress up and practice what I would say if I ever went on the Ellen show. I knew this book would change my life. That's why I finished it in four months. Know that I was also in school. I'd finish all my work early so I could have time to write my book. I even had to change the title of the document tempotarily because people kept asking what I was doing. At the time I wanted it to be secret. I wanted people to know I had written a book oncr it got big. Like New York Times big. Anyways, once I finished my book, I felt like a new person. I no longer felt like a girl. I felt like a woman. I had no knowledge about the literary world, so I had to do my research. I found out that I needed a literary agent. Being that my favorite author is James Dashner, I thought to email his old agent. He did email me back ...months later. Fortunately it wasn't bad news. It wasn't great news either. He simply stated that he wasn't lookkng to represent my genre right now. That was probably the most exciting news of my life. He didn't say my book was bad. I knew my book must be something if James Dashner's ex-agent didn't say my book was bad. I then did some more research. I learned that going through a publishong company meant you didn't get all your money. I was immediately repulsed. That's when I discovered self-publishing. I also found out there were pro's and con's. Pro's, I got all my money. Con's I would have to market my book myself and I wouldn't become a best seller. To be a New York Times bestseller, you'd have to sell 9,000 copies the first week it went public. I knew there was no way I could do that. So I decided to start looking for publishing companies that would publish your book without a literary agent. As time went on I suddenly got a letter in the mail from a publishong company in Pittsburgh. I thought to myself, “ How does a publishing company in Pittsburgh know about my book?” After I read the letter I figured out that they found my book on some list when I had it copyrighted. I ended up looking up the company. I didn't see good reviews. I did email them. I hadn't promised them anything. I simply asked them about what they could offer me. They never emailed me back. Maybe a couple days later I found a self publishing company an hour from me. Long story short we emailed back and forth because I made a tiny mistake (don't email your manuscript with one email and follow up with another). I'm still waiting to hear back. By this point I had grown impatient. I needed my book to be published. I wanted to be known for my work. I also needed money. So I started a Go Fund Me page. I still haven't gotten any donations, but maybe it's a sign. Maybe I don't need money to get myself out there. I just need a device and the Google Docs app. Then it hit me. Why stop at one book? I decided to make 12 Hours a series. But that wasn't enough. I needed to expand my horizon. I needed to be known for more than writing scifi books. I decided to dip into the world of romance. The cheesiest and most romantic movie I could think of was Twilight. What was more cheesy than Vampire romamce? I probably wrote about seven chapters until I realized romance wasn't my thing. I decided to creep into the world of horror. I am absolutley in love with the book I'm writing. Am I still stuck in a rut? Yes. No one said it would be easy.

The Visit Sitting at the end of the kitchen table, bathed in early autumn light, while in mid-sentence, I wasn't the first to notice. Spinning around, she was behind me, outside- in the garden. I was startled by her dignified presence and splendor of her size and color. Perched on the wrought iron gate, not even ten feet away-but with glass between us, she surveyed. She reminded me of a tall, russet-haired woman, I once knew, with stately features, and a strong posture. But this regal creature had feathers, not hair- and stealth talons for stability, and survival. For a lifetime, we stood- frozen in admiration, tinged in awe. We watched and waited, as she watched and waited, with one unblinking eye, like the silver silhouette of her cousin. Then, with warrior wings, the young female floated back up to her home, in the heavens. But not before this red-tailed hawk, had seemingly glared deeply into our eyes, in order to capture every one of our souls.

This is the Kuqa beacon tower. Not a penis...understand. It was build in the Han dynasty to protect both the Han empire and the travellers. I have a feeling that I may have been a soldier on that tower who was very protective in a past life. For the simple reason I have a cronic obessession with this tower and its landscape. I have always been protective of my family and friend and penpals. This tower reminds me of my new found self protectiveness on line. I am a weeding out the assholes just like the people on that tower just different country and era. I can imagine me be on top of this beacon tower trying to weed up friend from foe.

I'm a plusize 50 year old housewife from Llanelli Carmarthenshire South Wales,i am a novice writer with aspirations of becoming a well known writer of poetry and short stories,coffee break stroies to be exact,i like to say it as it is with no frills and crimped edges,my mother brought me up as a devout Christian alongside my 3 siblings,two bothers and a sister,growing up for a time by a fram which gave us a love of the outdoors,memories of riding on my neighbours horse Betsy overlooking the whole of Burry Port we liked tocall Lookout we had a middle class upbringing,my father a photographer in his spare time and a Garage Proprioter and my mother a small business woman selling second hand clothes in her shop in Pembrey she always used to say what a clothes horse i was as i was only 2 at the time but had racks of clothes to choose from,after battling with alcohol for severl years my fatherdied when i was just 12 years old leaving us his estate a house and land adjacent to it,children of the manor and spoilt for space we enjoyed picking from our fruit trees in our lawns and fields,my grandmother who owned a limosene company before she passed away 8 months before my father was a woman of substamce who loved to go to auctions and buy the picks of the day from under everyone elses nose,etiquette lessons from my bygone era wernt needed when i grew up as my grandmother maud was from the victorian era,then on the other side of mymaternal family my grandmother who was the lovechild of Josef Stalins son Benjamin who as research goes must have been illigitimate,after my great grandmother died after being shunned from the little village of Rhandermwyn in Llandovery her father Benjamin placed her in a convent to be brought up by nuns afterward he retured to rejoin the war effort,my grandmother then moved to South Hampton and she herself became a military nurse and became an SRN, at her time there she met my grandfather an army officer and they gor married,after having 3 children and one who sadly died at birth anmed Dewi the 3 chilkdren were brought up in Hendy Pontradulais West Glamorgan,my motherthe youngest of the three was a war child born in 1942,Colin my uncle then became a Royal Marine and served abroad,i often helped my grandmother to work at Industrial supply a rag factory cutting rags for industries in Wales for cleaning purposes,i grew up for the most part in Burry Port Carmarthenshire and attended an all girls school,making friends with girls i am still in contact with now thanks to facebook,my mother fraught wuth health problems has battled through 3 heart attacks and 3 bowel cancer scares,now 76 years old i pray every day that she reaches 80 and we'll see where we go from there,i got married to a man from the Bryn Llanelli part of a Catholic family the youngest of 9 siblings,a factory girl from the age of 16 i worked in Parsons Pickles , Swansea Components and Microloom L.T.D,amongst others,after getting married to Kevin at the age of 21,we settled down to family life as i had our first child in August of 1990 a son named Martin,then in 1991 i gave birth to our first daughter Kimberley,then in 1993 Rebecca came along our third child, and after 8 years Rhydian appeared our fourth and final child,struggling financially we worked hard to make ends meet byme working as a cleaner in Trostre works and Kevin working alongside me as a cleaner too, Llanelli being a black spot for jobs at that time we found ourselves living off the state for around 8 years,everyone blamed the unemployment on Thatchers Conservative rule, not being political myself i went deeply into the faith i had been brought up with and started to studythe scriptures,after 4 years studying with a lovely lady named Mabel one of Jehovahs Witnesses i got baptized in November of 1992 witnesses by my husband and two children by the poolside,protected by the congregation we found the struggle easier to bear,after Labour got into powere things were looking up,again not being a political person i put no hopes in the Governments as i was a concientious objector and still dont beleiev in taking part in the war effort unlike my previous family members some of which became Jehovahs Witnesses too,not wanting to talk about my bad experiences i will say just this , that in 2012 i was taken from my home by black -ops military Police and taken on a mission against my will and was gang raoed aboard a boat full of illegal black African immigrants,i got pregnant and gave birth to triplets 9 months later all insecret and kept quiet,the babies were taken away from me at birth,so now to summerize i am still living in Llwynhendy with my husband and two sons,my daughters having moved out to bring up their own familes,i have six beautiful grandchildren,i have a small business that i run from home jus eeking out a living my goal is to become a recognized writer of Coffee break stories and poetry,i'm entering this competition with the hope of winning the prize to spur me on