Week: 11 Tiny Buddha

Tiny Buddha is a blog I found that’s about reflecting on simple wisdom and learning new ways to apply it to our complex lives complete with responsibilities, struggles, dreams, and relationships. The post on this site is mostly about happiness, motivation, inspiration, love, relationships, meaning, possibilities, mindfulness, yoga, spirituality, simplicity, minimalism, and letting go. The motivational strategy this blog uses self-reflective writing. the author explores personal experiences, feelings, and events to motivate the readers. The authors’ personal reflection is an opportunity to reconsider events, thoughts, and feelings from a fresh perspective.

tinybuddha.com

I think this blog guides you to live a more purposeful life while encouraging you to do it on your terms. This blog is for the people who continuously struggle to get anywhere in life; who struggle to achieve their desired goals; and who struggle to overcome setbacks and adversity often dig their own graves with blame, shame, guilt, and a plethora of complaints that mask underlying excuses that keep them stuck and unable to move forward.

Week 11: Positively Present

I found the blog Positively Present, which I believe that it is important to share for many reasons. The writer of this blog, Dani DiPirro has set the goal of encouraging people to live a life of positivity no matter how difficult life can get sometimes. 

Within the post “On Toxic Positivity,” DiPirro addresses multiple comments that she received on an instagram post that said, “You can be sad, angry, upset, anxious, drained, overwhelmed, unsure, or afraid and still be positive.” All of these comments mentioned how this blog is considered toxic because if people pretend to be more positive than they actually are, it could cause more harm than good. However, DiPirro further explains herself by talking about the difference between happiness and positivity. She says that happiness should not be what you strive for out of life, something that I found a bit strange reading it at first, but as I read further I began to understand. Happiness is an emotions and should come to us naturally without being forced. DiPirro explains, “Happiness… is not accessible just because you want it. If something horrible has happened to you, you can't just be happy. You can, more often than not, be positive.” Positivity is a mindset that can be worked toward. By actively trying to create a positive outlook on life, people are given the perseverance needed to move forward, even in times of sadness.

I believe that this blog is mainly aimed at teenagers or people entering the early to mid stages of adulthood because quite a few of her posts start off with mentioning ideas that she had seen on social media. However, I also think that it has great appeal to any audience because the encouragement that DiPirro gives her readers is pretty universal. She does not force or deceive people into believing that being happy all of the time is the healthy route to a successful life. Instead, she is honest and authentic with her writing by admitting that there are moments in life that challenge us or push us to our limits, but having an optimistic mindset that things will improve can aid us through those moments. Having a positive outlook can be extremely difficult, especially in times that are weighed down by negative emotions. However, through her blog, DiPirro spreads optimism and hope by explaining the importance in self-love, confronting problems face-to-face, and living life in the present. 

Link to Positively Present:  https://www.positivelypresent.com

Week 11: Copyblogger

       Another 12-dollar margarita? Sure, why not?… Persuasion: the art of convincing someone to spend money on the extra 100-dollar protection plan (that they just need to have) to convincing someone to add on the extra side of fries at the restaurant. The power of persuasion is the key to success in today’s society. One can see it plastered over social media, television, and on a simple trip to the super market. Nearly every human encounter includes an attempt to gain influence or to persuade others into our own individual ways of thinking. The ability to persuade is power. As Malcom Gladwell put it in, Why the revolution will not be tweeted:

 "The world, we are told, is in the midst of a revolution. The new tools of social media have reinvented social activism. With Facebook and Twitter and the like, the traditional relationship between political authority and popular will has been upended, making it easier for the powerless to collaborate, coördinate, and give voice to their concerns."

    Gladwell's idea of this new world revolution exists in blogging within an online platform. I stumbled upon the blog (or for better words a blog hub) called Copyblogger. It has been said to be the “bible of content marketing” by Venture Beat. The online company was started in 2006, and is a free resource people can use to improve their own online content. Copyblogger states the essence of their brand is “Not bland corporate crap created to fill up a company webpage." Rather Copyblogger is filled with "valuable information that attracts attention, drives traffic, and builds your business.” I am also studying public relations strategies, and this blog is full of information on: how to get a company noticed, ways to attract new clients or prospects, and turning those prospects into loyal customers. 

“We Don’t Just Teach Content Marketing — It’s How We Built Our Company”

      Founder, Brian Clark was building business with online content since 1998—in the age where online company’s were still a little taboo. After seven years and building an empire of business, Brian made a decision to share his knowledge with the world! 

Copyblogger was born. 

“Copyblogger started as a simple one-man blog. It evolved into highly profitable company with 8 figures in annual revenue thanks to useful content, smart copywriting, and exceptional products and services. No advertising. No venture capital. No outbound sales team. Just $1,000 in seed cash and a whole lot of time and effort spent teaching others how to do online marketing that works.” (Clark) 

Copyblogger now consists of numerous blogs written by different marketing sales consultants. They persuade people to create better (or the best) online content for personal or business purposes. 

Clark also states, “Every product we’ve released was conceived from the practical, real-world needs we see every day in our audience. But our mission has never changed: We’re here to help you create the kind of audience-focused content that helps you reach your business goals.”

***

     Since Copyblogger consists of multiple bloggers, I chose one specific blog by a woman named Henneke Duistermaat. The blog post is titled: 58 Ways to Create Persuasive Content Your Audience Will Love.

Link to her blog: https://www.copyblogger.com/persuasive-content-marketing/ 

So, it’s basically a blog post to persuade you to be a more persuasive writer. 

Duistermaat starts her post with a savvy question for her audience : Would you like to become a better writer? 

       My mind was shouting like a wrestling crowd when Daniel Bryan steps into the ring: YES YES YES! Henneke automatically hooks any reader who wants to improve their writing skills and anyone who wants to learn how to be more persuasive. Students would appeal to this blog in order to write better persuasive essays for school. Business owners would benefit from the marketing aspect of writing persuasively. For example, some small business might want to improve the content of their website or the text they use in the emails or flyers they send out. 

Duistermaat quotes, “You are about to become a writer that’s incredibly persuasive and completely unforgettable. Ready?” 

      She eludes the audience with a simple promise: THEY WILL be a more persuasive writer by the end of her blog post. 

       She goes over seven main topics in her post and breaks down the 58 “items” under the main categories. Now, I don’t want to bore anyone by listing off each category with a point she proves. Go read the blog for yourself (it’s mostly bullet points and very interesting). Duistermaat begins her post by teaching someone how to streamline their content. She persuades the point of ending the content with an energizing closing paragraph. She states that “a few kick-ass lines” at the end of content will inspire readers or customers to change their beliefs. This leads her into the ideas that a writer must “command attention” and “be specific” with their audience.

       Throughout the blog post Duistermaat is teaching the reader how to use persuasion techniques in writing (that’s kind of what she wants you to think). However, the reader doesn’t realize is that Duisermaat is really persuading her audience to be a better writer!  While she does include a lot of valuable pointers and content about persuasive writing, she also provides valid reasons of why everyone should be writing this way.  

       She wraps up the article with the topic of “How to self-edit so you don’t look dumb”. Now, I know there are students in my English classes that still don’t proof read their own papers (I have overheard them). Although proof reading might not be for everyone, Duistermaat dedicates points 45-59 all to proof reading one’s own work. She ends the post: 

"The harsh reality of becoming a very good writer:

You’re smart. You have good ideas. And to spread your ideas you need mind-blowingly good content, because too much information is out there.

I’m not saying you can become a remarkable writer instantly. You need to practice each day. You need to focus. And you need to be prepared for criticism.

But if you persevere, if you focus on becoming enchanting, persuasive, and memorable, you can succeed.

Set your goals. Just do it.”

        She ends the blog posts encouraging feedback and comments from the audience, which is incredibly inviting and interactive. I will definitely be reading more bloggers from Copyblogger and I will look out for specific posts by Duistermaat, herself. The blog intrigues me because I have a passion for writing and public relations. It persuades me to have a stronger writing style and motivates me to reach my goals in an online marketing career. 

About the author. 

Link to Copyblogger: https://www.copyblogger.com 

Week 11: Define Beauty

The "blog" I have chosen for today I hesitant to call a proper blog but I still think it counts. Define Beauty is an organization that uses social media to showcase that all people are beautiful, no matter their physical or emotional scares. My encounter with this particular organization comes from an Instagram page. On their page the creator, which I have tried hard to find the name of but cannot, gathers photos and stories from volunteers and shares them on the page. (@wedefinebeauty, definebeauty.org) the creator uses this emotional stories to show that even given all of our flaws, no matter what they may be that does not mean we are not beautiful. The page is trying to redefine the perception of todays beautiful woman. The blog appeals to everyone who has ever felt that something about them needed to be changed, anyone who has ever felt that they were not to be considered beautiful. The message is for everyone, because everyone likes to be reminded that they are beautiful too.

Week 11: Just One Cookbook

A blog that I found rather motivational and inspirational in my own life is Just One Cookbook. This blog posts Japanese recipes, tips for cooking and travelling to Japan, as well as some other personal experiences and knowledge that Nami (the author) wishes to impart. It looks more like a website (and I suppose that it's developed in to more of one too), but it started as and still mostly runs like a blog. I chose this blog because I use this website a lot, and well, who doesn't like a good bowl of ramen?

This blog/website hybrid has inspired me to explore more in the kitchen and to be more conscious of cultural traditions. I recently switched my major to Creative Writing from Japanese Language and Culture, and my previous program required me to study abroad, so I wanted to read up on how I should carry myself in Japan and some of the different foods I could eat there as well as what's in them so I don't have any surprises.

I believe that the blog is influential because the author banks on her credibility. Nami is someone who grew up in Japan, but came to live in the United States. So she is credible because she has a first-hand experience, and would be considered an authority on the subject. She also uses the tactic of consistency. Nami posts both easy and difficult recipes for her readers to follow, and encourages them to try out her recipes. Those who have successfully completed easier recipes are more apt to try out the more difficult ones. She also, in a sense, uses the method of consensus. She has her posts open to comments and interacts with readers on social media, particularly those who have made a recipe and posted about it. So one could read the comments and feel as though many others of the community are participating in creating the foods she presents, so they may want to as well.

While this blog particularly caters tho those who are interested in Japan and Japanese cuisine, I think the blog could be for anyone and everyone. There may be home chefs that want to broaden their palette and cook new things, or who may be taking a trip to Japan for the hell of it, and would want to know more about what it's like in a country that speaks minimal English. I think Just One Cookbook could be influential across many demographics.

Week 11: tiny buddha

I chose a motivational blog called “tiny buddha” (https://tinybuddha.com/), partly because I loved its name so much, however, it was also because searches for motivational blogs turned up such a large number of them that were so great that I had to turn to a more subjective way of choosing one to focus on.  The content, as far as I can tell, is all about how to live one’s best life.  The creator, Lori Deschene brings the reader to many different small life realizations through the experiences of many different writers, explaining in her “About” page that

Though I run this site, it is not mine. It’s ours. It’s not about me. It’s about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful and useful as mine. (Deschene)

Her “About” page also explains that the site’s posts are about “happiness, love, relationships, change, meaning, mindfulness, spirituality, simplicity, minimalism, letting go, and more” (Deschene).  In the posts on her blog site that I read, writers like Graham Panther talk about things like learning to cut through self-doubt and to accept praise in “Why Compliments Made Me Cringe and How I’ve Learned to Accept Praise,” and in my favorite so far, by Will Aylward, “9 Lessons from my 9-Month-Old Nephew, Who’s Taught me How to Live,” the writer persuades the reader to live a simpler and more caring life through the innocent life of their 9-month-old nephew, Oliver!

The overall motivational strategy is to have many different writers analyze events and relationships in their lives in both logical and abstract ways and for it all to culminate into one site where readers can find many different perspectives on living life.

This blog site can be appealing to almost anyone because of the wide array of viewpoints from the many different writers.  I really love the idea of it, almost like a community involved in one long positive conversation about living life.

Week 11: Carrots 'n' Cake

Carrots 'n' Cake

Carrots n Cake is a motivational fitness blog.

This blog gathers information about nutrition facts and work-out regimens, shares it with the readers, and then attempts to persuade or motivate the audience members to participate in this healthy lifestyle.

Some of the content that can be found on this motivational blog are information about the blogger herself (Tina), discounts, and contact information. But there are three main topics of discussion: fitness, nutrition, and self-care.

Fitness segments include blogs about her CrossFit journey, fit pregnancy, running, and workouts. Nutrition blogs consist of macro plans, recipes, and weight loss. And finally, self-care includes beauty, adventure, family, travel, and colitis (her chronic disease). 

Some motivational strategies Tina uses to engage the readers are showing her own progress and being easily relatable. Everyone struggles with sticking to a clean, healthy diet, and few people are able to resist the urge to skip at least one day at the gym. Tina posts her progress to encourage others to keep going. She shows the ups and the downs, and others can view her successes and failures as motivation to keep going with their own.

Another way in which Tina is motivational is because she is nice and encouraging about this lifestyle. She isn't showing off her body in hopes to make others envious. Rather, she is trying to hit home the point that this lifestyle is possible and attainable.

Because she is truthful and genuine about her progress, hoping to both inspire and struggle alongside her readers, the audience is actively engaged and interested in what she has to say.

This blog appeals especially to younger women. I imagine the audience to be individuals around twenty to thirty years old who are trying to balance time between the hardships of life (jobs, families, friends, significant others, school, etc.) with going to the gym and managing to eat healthy when the urge to eat out is so strong.

Tina is encouraging, kind, and honest, and her blog is definitely motivational and persuasive.

Influenced

What I took away from the passage is how truly everyone can somehow be influenced through reading. It gives me more motivation to work on my writing and expand my knowledge on writing. Social media influences people so much it can be the force driving their every move. I see many making decisions or purchases solely based on how social media will view you. People act out and make poor decisions simply just for attention online or "clout" as some of the kids refer to it as. I think most often it plays a negative influence on people and society. I would also say that people can influence unintentionally. For example, my baseball coach I played for as a teenager had a job of making me a better athlete, however along the way he turned me from a kid to a young man. I would say I am an influencer. I have a saying, "I never ride the wave, I provide the wave." From coming up with new slang to fashion trends, I definitely inspire my homies.

Icy Hot

We hopped in the car and hit the road early Friday morning.  I had weeks to finish packing but of course ended up doing a majority of it the previous night.  It was a weird feeling, removing almost all of my possessions from my childhood home.  I knew I would be back living there again soon, but my room just looked so empty and incomplete.  The car told us it was 72 degrees when we left Michigan, it was late August, just a few days before my 18th birthday.  We were heading south.  I don't remember much of the drive, I know I slept a lot.  I remember the cheap motel we stayed at overnight, I found a bug in my bed.  When we finally crossed the border into Texas, the car thermometer read 114 degrees.  We stopped at a gas station to fill up and grab some snacks in the afternoon and I found a crayon literally melting on the concrete.  I had never experienced this kind of heat before.  It was the kind of heat where you run from your car to whatever building you're going to, because the act of running produces less sweat than the heat does if you walk.  This was probably one of the worst places I could've come to play a winter sport.

I left home when I was just 17 to move across the country and play ice hockey.  It wasn't easy.  I thought I was going on a big adventure, but what a found was a long series of identical days.  Wake up, work out, skate, work out, skate, go to bed.  Some days were so hot, the ice in the rink would melt, so those days just saw extra work outs.  I quickly fell into a black hole of monotony.  I didn't get along with my teammates or coaches.  I felt like I just didn't really belong there.  I missed home.  I was young and wanted to run away, but when I did, I realized all the things I was running from were the things that meant the most to me.

When I finally did get to come back home to Michigan, I felt like the piece of myself that was missing when I was in Texas was finally filled again.  I was happy for the first time in a long time and I haven't left Michigan since.

Brother

My feet hit the pavement as I adjusted my backpack straps and waved my friends on the bus goodbye.

I was done with school for the summer.

I always thought of the last day of school as a the greatest day in human existence, better than Christmas or even my birthday. This day meant that there were 3 uninterrupted months of pure joy and adventure. Good memories were waiting to be made.
I didn't know what to do with myself I was so excited.

I looked out into the distance and noticed some other kids walking in a group together towards their houses in our neighborhood. They didn't seem as excited as I was, maybe it just hadn't kicked in yet for them that this was the greatest day ever. Every step on the road to my house felt as though I was a new man ready to take on the world. I felt so free and powerful, I could not be put into a bad mood a that moment.

It wasn't until I was halfway home that I noticed my brother walking slightly faster a couple of yards ahead of me. What was his rush? We had all the time in the world to bask in this glorious freedom from teachers and books. I tightened the straps on my backpack and picked up my pace towards him. He was my brother, but he was never safe from me.

I loved to pick on my brother growing up. Squeezing his chubby arms as a baby, wrestling him into submission, and all while playing innocent and acting like there was nothing to worry about when our parents would come into the room.
This time felt no different.

My brother fast-walked on the sidewalk of our neighborhood and had no idea of where I was. I took my opportunity to pounce and lunged. My hands met his backpack and sent him full force into the grass on the side of the road. I started to laugh but something felt off.

I looked down and saw he was holding a pot with a small flower in it, with a little marking on the side that said "MOM". Now, it lay there in several broken pieces, dirt leaking out every crack. The flower was bent and the few pedals that were left were crooked and dangling. My stomach dropped and I instantly felt as though I had committed a heinous crime.

"Danny! This was for Mom!", my brother said through a stream of tears.

"I'm...I'm sorry...I.."

He gathered what he could in his hands and began back towards our house. I watched as he picked up his pace, every few steps a sniffle would jerk his shoulders. I looked down, what was the matter with me? Just a second ago I felt like the king of the world, and now I can't help but feel as though the whole world wanted me to drop dead. I wanted me to drop dead.

I reached my house and walked in the door to find my brother and my Mom attempting to repair the pieces of the pot. She put the flower in another pot and managed to keep it alive until she could place it back into the original. She never asked me about the incident.
My brother never told her. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked that he chose to keep that a secret, but the sadness and guilt only grew because of it. He was being a bigger person even after I had just done that to him. I waited until my Mom left the room and went up to him,

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know you had that in your hands. I shouldn't have done it anyway.", I managed.

My brother wiped some more tears from his eyes and looked at the repaired plant,

"It's okay. I forgive you"

Literature for the Soul

The silent turning of pages and the musky smell of old books.  A girl lost in a sea of towering bookshelves turning corner after corner getting further away from the reality she is a part of.  The silence is a blanket of comfort and the incandescent beauty of thousands of books all trying to speak to her at once is a requiem to her soul.  Filling it with longing and desire only many ink filled pages can cure.  With every footstep she takes the more comfort she feels from the embrace of the words that greet her.  Every bound volume seems to smile at her as she passes by.  She runs her fingers lightly over each spine that faces her.  Gliding through the forest of stories carefully considering each title, looking for the one that ensnares her minds curiosity.  Once the colorful companion is found she carries it gingerly in her hand as she wanders deeper to find a resting place for them.

Finding a corner she sits in a molded chair where she feels so far away from anyone who may be watching.  The taste of adventure and the allure of journeys yet to be taken is the only thought that fills her mind.  Noticing the sun shining in through the window illuminating the air, reveling the dust mottes that float up from the pages.  She feels as if she has found a place so secret and reverent, she can hear all her thoughts as if they were spoken aloud.

Opening the pages there is a musk that travels up from the book to her nose.  The scent carries a history that she remembers well sparking memories of the many lives she has been a part of.  The joy of this simple act calls up the excitement from within her from the knowledge that she is about to embark on a brand new journey.  In response the parchment sighs in contentment ready to share its many words that have been waiting a long time to be read again. 

The feeling of crisp paper between her fingers and the hidden notion she carries to never be found again.  To remain lost in this world of hundreds of lives that can carry her beyond the borders of human reality.  She knows that she must return once the light begins to fade and her corner starts to grow dim.  This world she regretfully returns to, which seems so dull and colorless in comparison. 
She slowly carefully closes her newfound friend as she tries to recognize this world she returns to, which within a few hours has become foreign to her.  Placing her volume back in its home on the shelf she waves a small goodbye and whispers a promise to return.  As she starts to leave she thinks that this place is for people much the same.  For the people who stop and listen to the whispers in the silence surrounded by pages of light.

Week 7: Terror In The Depths Of The Fog

An unusual amount of fog clouded the dim and dreary night. Pushing through it, I enter the diner we frequent, then round the corner to meet my partners. They were sat in the section rarely used this time of night. Good. Nobody needed to hear what we were plotting.

I took a seat in the only open chair at the table. A guy with strawberry blonde hair looked up from his plate of fries and greeted me before I had a chance to say anything. The rather stout man's face was red, despite being out of the cold for some time, and it smiled at me. My friend Ryan. The other two - Paker and Sean - didn't say much. I didn't have much to say to them, either, I didn't know them very well. Ryan and I chatted for only a moment longer. Before I realized it, the rest of the table rose to depart for our destination.

We took a car there, seemingly twisting and turning through a maze of dark roadways until we turned into an apartment complex. Sean, who acted as our guide, directed Parker there and told us that we had to park away from, then walk to our actual objective. We parked in a lot at the bottom of a hill with intimidatingly dark woods at the top. Ryan and I got out of the car first.

"Where's your stuff?" Ryan asked me upon meeting me near the trunk of the car.

"My what?" I responded.

"Your flashlight and knife. You didn't bring them?"

"Oh. No." I was invited rather last-minute, so I wasn't given the full details of what I should and shouldn't bring. But they were the type of people who didn't want to hear excuses. Didn't help me from feeling stupid, of course I would need some form of protection.

Once everyone was out of the car, Sean briefed us on the short list of rules.

- He would be leading us through the venue. Acting as our guide and lookout.
- Keep your lights down low, do not shine them in windows because we do not want to attract attention.
- Keep your knife open and in your hand.
- Watch your step, don't make a lot of noise.
- Stay in the same vicinity of each other.
- If he says "lights out," turn off your light and freeze.

With that, we set on our way up the hill. We walked through the woods along a railroad track, our footsteps creating a chorus of crunching as it patted down the untouched snow. We trekked for what seemed like long enough to traverse dimensions until - alas, our final destination.

The Northville Asylum. The gray-looking building stood in a monochrome colored clearing. Dying trees and shrubbery decorated its snow-covered skirt that reached endless miles. Even if it wasn't alive, it gave off the presence of a living, breathing monster.

As we approached, Sean described that there was no safe way into the main building from the outside, we will have to enter a surrounding building and go through the underground tunnels to come in from below. I pictured wide catacombs that directly connected the buildings - no big deal. I didn't think too much on it because my group tossed around the legends of this place. "They say the patients still wander around here," or "Jared got dragged through the tunnels by something he couldn't see."

We got in to one of the sub-buildings through some hole in the wall, if I recall correctly. The destructive desires of other urban explorers, vandals and fabled drug addicts exploded in its halls, leaving layers of debris in its wake. Our feet crunched on various crap as if we were still in the snow. Graffiti decorated the walls in favor of the peeling wallpaper. Some parts were works of art, some left immature messages of "666," "you won't make it out alive" and such.We wandered from room to ransacked room. I found a needlepoint project still packaged from 1980 and put it in my coat to take home with me. Eventually we reached a room with only a short, broken staircase leading to what looked like the dark abyss. Sean jumped a short way down, followed by Parker.

"These are the tunnels, we have to go in single-file." Sean said.

Well, it's too late to back out now, isn't it?

I jumped.

I fell in formation, Sean at the head, Parker and I in the middle - I had to be in the middle for protection - and Ryan following behind. The tunnels were small, rectangular and cramped. Piping ran through them, stuffing them even more. Sean was about the size of a pipe cleaner, so he was able to traverse them fine, the rest of us had to walk awkwardly at an angle of sorts. Suddenly, I run into Parker's back

"Lights out!" Sean whispers urgently.

I never knew darkness until that day.

We stayed in the pitch black for probably about a few minutes, but it felt like forever. Going from knowing your surroundings to blind in 2 seconds could make someone insane. Sean turned his flashlight on not a moment too soon, any longer and I would've screamed. He told us he heard someone running, and that's why he called lights out. It could've been my imagination, but I think we hurried through the rest of the way.

We rose up into the main building and commenced our exploring. Our guide lead us to the different spots we wanted to explore; the kitchen, the theater, up into patient rooms. Eventually, someone decided that they wanted to take a trip to a top floor room. Obviously there were no working elevators, so 14 flights of stairs it was.

I'm an asthmatic, so breathing cold air while fighting these stairs proved to be a bit of an issue for me. I honestly didn't expect much from the trip, so I packed ultra light - I think I only had my phone on me. I felt awful about it at the time, but we did have to make frequent stops at various landings for me to catch my breath.

On one of the landings, I heard a loud bang - something like a locker slamming. I looked to Ryan, whose gaze was locked to something in the distance through the doorway. I glanced to where I thought he was looking - down an empty hall with some outside light illuminating the frosted windows at the other end.

"Did you hear that?" I ask Ryan in a whisper.

He nods.

"Hear what?" Parker replies.

"There was a bang." Ryan said. "It sounded like it came from the hallway or something."

"I didn't hear anything." Sean stated. Ryan and I insisted we heard it, Parker and Sean claim they heard nothing. "I'll go check it out." Sean surrendered then climbed the last flight of stairs.

My anxiety spikes. Haven't any of us watched a horror movie? Minutes pass, we hear nothing. Ryan and I exchange looks multiple times. Our guide disappeared, and none of us knew how to escape here. I glance at the number panel next to the open doorway we stood in front of. Of course we were on floor 13.

"I'll go find Sean." Parker tells us, then begins to climb. I remember trying to stop him, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.

More time passes. Ryan and I simply stare at each other, at a loss. We hear someone come back down the stairs. I was ready to jump whole landings to escape a serial killer, but it was only Sean, saying that the coast was clear. We follow him back up to this small room with free-standing lockers creating a small labyrinth in front of a whole wall of windows. The scene outside looked like a sea of little gold stars. City lights speckled the night, and in the distance, you could see the lights for the ambassador bridge. We only stayed for a couple minutes, I think all of us were still in fight-or-flight mode.

Making our way back down, my legs began to go numb but I pushed through. I knew everything was fine, but somehow it felt like it wasn't. I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Sean joked about making a stop at the crematorium, and was met with a resounding "no." In the field on the way back, something skittered behind me, and I almost bowled poor Parker over because I bolted.

The end of the night is fairly fuzzy to me. I think I had some residue of adrenaline still running through me by the time my head hit the pillow, but I remember passing out sort of quickly. The next day the trip felt like a dream. But. I figured that if I could get through that, I could get through anything.

Fast forward to last year, I saw a news special about the place getting torn down, and I felt kind of sad and nostalgic. I almost wanted to take a trip one more time. Until they said that it had a lot of asbestos issues.

More info and pictures of the inside

God Laughs; Lily's Birth Story

Disclaimer, this is a long one.

I don't know if anyone else read birth stories as much as I did in the days leading up to their little ones arrival, but I figured after having read so many I would add ours to the mix. Actually I was kind of hesitant to write about our experience in the first place, let alone post it on the world wide web for everyone and anyone to see, but I figured I would on the off chance that this helps someone who's preparing to give birth soon and spends 4+ hours a day reading birth stories like I did. I'm just going to warn you though, if you're looking for a birth story where everything goes according to plan and its smooth sailing all the way around then you should definitely look somewhere else. Because in our birth story nothing goes according to plan. Nothing.

Symphysis Pubic Dysfunction and Prodromal Labor. Two terms I had never heard of prior to my pregnancy but left quite the impression on me as my pregnancy and labor progressed.
For those of you who don't know, Symphysis Pubic Dysfunction otherwise known as SPD is a condition in which the hormone Relaxin released by your body during pregnancy causes the ligaments which hold your pubic joint stable to relax beyond what is  normal. This is truly as uncomfortable as it sounds. From the 5th month of my pregnancy onward this condition made every day a challenge. Some days were better than others depending on my activity level but for the majority of my pregnancy I was in a fair amount of pain. Little did I know, this pain would be worsened beyond anything I could imagine at the end of my pregnancy, but more on that later.
Prodromal Labor is another haunting phrase I have a new appreciation for.

Some refer to it simply as early labor or false labor, but for those who have experienced it for days on end, it is so much more than that. Prodromal Labor is labor that has all the signs of true labor; frequent contractions that may be regular or irregular and even the loss of the mucus  plug in some women. Prodromal labor usually happens at night, with contractions coming anywhere from 20 to 5 minutes apart, then stops cold during the day only to resume the next evening. This torture can go on for days. Needless to say, no pregnant woman who has gone through this would simply call it false labor, it is real labor, your body really works hard for however long your contractions last but unfortunately at the end of it you don't have a baby to show for it, just some rather unattractive bags under your eyes from being up all night. Which I guess in a way is practice for when the baby really comes.

So anyway, after the 3rd false alarm, my husband and I didn't even bother getting ready to go to the hospital because we knew that as soon as we got there "labor" would most likely stop. I went into prodromal labor on 4 separate occasions, finally progressing into true labor in the 42nd week of my pregnancy, after experiencing prodromal labor for four nights in a row, which is where our labor/birth story truly starts.

Our due date had come and gone. When I began my pregnancy journey I had a feeling that I would go over the traditional 40 week mark, but I had no idea that I would make it all the way to 42 weeks with no sign of baby. Especially when I went into the hospital the week before Christmas and my doctor promised me that I would not make it through the weekend without having my baby. But alas I did. I made it through the weekend, then Christmas, then New Years, and alllll the way to the end of January. And that, my friends, is not a good feeling at all.

Neither is the excruciating sensation of  your legs seemingly disconnecting from your body which is caused by the SPD I mentioned earlier. But again, that is where I found myself at the end of my pregnancy: 2 weeks overdue sitting in a lazy-boy with an ice pack between my legs. Not fun. Not fun at all. Not at all what I had planned either. I was unable to get in and out of my car, the shower, or my bed without crying from the pain. I had stopped doing laundry weeks earlier since I was unable to walk up and down the stairs. My poor poor husband had to deal with my endless tears all the while picking up the slack of all the housework I was unable to do. It was terrible.
So terrible that at my 40 week appointment I made up my mind that I despite all my hopes and dreams of a completely natural labor I would let my doctor induce me at 41 weeks. I left my doctor's office feeling sad that I would have to be induced, but cheered by the fact that my pain would be over in a week. HA!

Monday came and along with it my much anticipated 41 week appointment. My husband had even taken off work in anticipation of a trip to the hospital we were sure would happen as soon as I left the office. Even the ultrasound tech was convinced that we would be induced that day and have our bouncing baby girl by Wednesday at the latest. Apparently the only person who didn't get the memo was my doctor. Because she was still adamant against inducing me, even with knowing how much pain I was in, very little movement from our baby during our latest biophysical, and amniotic fluid levels that were getting lower and lower. She set my induction for the following Tuesday, 2 days after the 42 week mark, wrote me a prescription for Tylenol 3 for the pain I was in, and sent me home.
I am not ashamed to admit that I cried. No, I bawled, like a 2 year old whose just smooshed his fingers in a car door. Like I said, my poor poor husband. Because as hard as this was for me to go through, I know it was just as hard on him to watch me and know he could do nothing to make me feel better. So he drove me home, tucked me into bed, and went off to fill the prescription. And together we waited for Tuesday to come.

Tuesday never came. At least not in the sense that we thought it would. That's because, small favors, we never made it to Tuesday.

I had spent the week since my 41 week appointment praying and pleading with God to please let our little girl come into the world naturally without having to be induced. And on Saturday January 24th, after 4 days of prodromal labor (the evil term I mentioned earlier) I finally went into labor. Quickly.
Contractions started at 6:30 Saturday evening after my husband and I had eaten dinner. We were both trying to relax; he playing his video games, and me alternating between reading birth stories online and watching Once Upon a Time on Netflix. It had been a long couple of days and we were resigned to the fact that I would spend the majority of the evening having contractions that went no where. So when my contractions first started we thought nothing of it. Not even when they were coming 5 minutes apart 2 hours later. I was convinced that this was another false alarm. So I got in the shower.
My mild 5 min apart contractions suddenly became forceful 3 min apart contractions, and after a half hour of debating, praying, and texting my friend who was to come to the hospital with me, we decided it was time to head out.

In the 10 minute car ride to the hospital I had 5 contractions. This was really it! My labor had started all on its own, no pitocin needed. We thanked God for answering our prayers.
By the time we got to the hospital and checked in to triage my contractions were 1.5 minutes apart and 2 minutes long. Unfortunately I was only dilated 1cm. Looking back I should have known this was a bad sign from the beginning. But I was hopeful that the intensity of my labor would have me dilating fairly quickly. As per my birth plan I asked that no one offer me the epidural unless I specifically requested it. And with that being said we (somewhat) happily moved to our Labor and Delivery room.

My nurse was simply amazing. She advocated for me when the resident doctor and doctor on call were pressuring me to have my water broken and internal fetal monitoring hooked up. I knew without a doubt that this was not what I wanted and with the support of her, my husband, and my friend, I stood my ground. I insisted that I be allowed to labor naturally for as long as was safe for our baby. And finally, after 4 hours of trying to pressure me, the doctors gave up and let me labor in peace. Another prayer answered.

So even when 2am rolled around and it was revealed that I had only dilated 1 more cm in 4 hours I was still hopeful that things would all fall into place and go according to plan. After all, we had made it this far hadn't we?

1cm in four hours is definitely not the progress one hopes for when they go into labor. Especially when those four hours are spent enduring contractions that come every 1.5 minutes without the help of an epidural or painkillers. But the atmosphere in my Labor and Delivery room was still hopeful. So far, in spite of all the delays, things were going almost exactly according to plan. We had on praise and worship music and we prayed and talked and laughed as I alternated between rocking back and forth on the birthing ball and walking up and down the halls.

Eventually I got tired and moved to the bed to labor. The amazing nurse I mentioned earlier showed me how to relax my whole body and breathe through the contractions that were getting stronger and stronger by the minute. Thankfully this helped me to endure when it felt like the pain was going to rip me apart. So I sat back against the pillows, closed my eyes, relaxed as best I could, and prayed some more.

I stayed like this for what seemed like hours. Every once in a while I would look over at my friend and husband for reassurance and then close my eyes again and concentrate on making it through the contractions. They prayed over me all the while and the atmosphere in the room was very peaceful. It was a peace that came from knowing God was ultimately in control.

Around 3:30 am my water broke without me really realizing what had happened. I was concentrating so hard that when it happened I overlooked it as just more fluid leaking as it had all night. (Yeah, labor and delivery is just gross) It wasn't until the nurse came back to check on us at 4:30 am that I realized it really had broken. By this time my contractions were 30 seconds apart. The pain was unimaginable and I had still not progressed beyond 2cm.

So in spite of all that I had hoped for and the birth plan I had so carefully prepared, I opted to receive the epidural. As upsetting as this was, I knew that this may be exactly what we needed in order for my body to relax enough for labor to progress. I was sad, but I decided to sacrifice my own wishes for what I hoped would be best for our baby girl.
They administered the epidural fairly quickly and soon enough I was numb from the waist down. The nurse instructed us all to settle in and relax once again and we all tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately sleep is not easy to come by when one is in labor, even when you can't really feel your contractions. So I laid in the dark thinking about how our whole world was going to change and dreaming of what our girl would look like.

At 6:30 things went south. Since receiving the epidural and being hooked up to internal fetal monitors my blood pressure had been steadily rising and Lily's heart rate was slowing. My doctor who had so far let me labor pretty much unassisted, rushed into the room along with a team of nursing staff. He talked about her decreasing heart rate and the fear that she was going to inhale meconium (look it up) as she came out. Apparently when my water broke it was meconium thick. Oxygen was strapped to my face and I was turned on all fours in an effort to make our baby more comfortable. Let me tell you this, it was far from comfortable for me, or my poor husband. Talk about embarrassing! This did however work for a time and my doctor left the room promising to return soon and check on us.

Soon came about 5 minutes later. Once again they all rushed into the room, strapped oxygen on my face, turned me on all fours, and gave me a shot to stop my labor. My contractions were coming so rapidly that our baby could not keep up and her heart rate had dropped to 80bpm. It was the most frightening few moments of my life. My doctor sat beside me on the bed and apologized but stated that Lily simply was not able to tolerate labor anymore. She was fading fast and he had a feeling that she was simply too big to come out. He feared that she might need to be rushed to the NICU and have tests run if she inhaled the meconium she was surrounded by.

So the decision was made to perform and emergency C-Section. We were rushed into the operating room, my husband donned scrubs and a hair net, and we prepared to finally meet our baby girl. As fast as things moved I can't help but remember the sensation of someone marking a line above my pelvic bone with a sharpie. I panicked. Understandably. My epidural had stopped working and they were seconds away from starting the incision for the c-section. Like I said, nothing goes as planned. But they administered a new epidural, a bit stronger this time, and began the work of bringing our girl into the world. When the doctors pulled her out it was as if my body knew the work was over and I was finally able to relax. In fact I struggled to stay awake long enough to even look at her!

Thankfully they were able to clean her up and keep her from inhaling any meconium at all. My husband held her in his arms for almost 45 minutes as they cleaned me up and stitched up my incision. I cried and laughed uncontrollably as I listened to her cry for the first time. My doctor laughed as she smiled up at him (a real smile from a newborn!) and when they placed her in my husbands arms she simply gazed up at him with big blue eyes. She was so awake and alert!

Our baby girl was born at 7:25 am on January 25th. She was a whopping 9lbs 8oz and 23.5 inches long. Bright red hair, that eventually faded to yellow blonde like mine, and bright blue eyes. She was beautiful. And she was indeed too big to fit through the birth canal, her head had caught on my pubic bone! Apparently that was why she never fully dropped into my pelvis and I never dilated beyond 2cm.

But in spite of all that had gone "wrong" I was happier than I had ever been in my entire life. My plans had completely unraveled at the seams but it was okay. Because God has blessed us beyond measure! He looked down and saw all that needed to happen for Lily to come into this world a healthy baby. He orchestrated everything according to His will and for our ultimate good. So the title "God Laughs" doesn't come from the saying, "we make plans and God laughs" as you may have thought, it comes from my sincere belief that as He looks down on us now, 4 years after her birth, and watches Lily grow, and smile, and giggle, He laughs too. He laughs because He loves her more than words can describe, and He has a plan for her ultimate good greater than any her father or I could dream up.