Tag: dailyprompt

Every reader has those books. The ones you finish only to immediately start thinking about reading again. The ones that feel like comfort food in book form.

When I saw this prompt, my first thought was that I’m sure a lot of people would answer the Bible. If you go to church every week and attend Bible study, it’s probably the book you’ve spent the most time reading. Honestly, it should probably be my answer too. But I don’t really count it because, for me, it’s not usually a start-to-finish read. I’m typically reading specific books, chapters, or passages depending on what we’re studying, so it feels different than rereading a novel from cover to cover.

For me, it’s not just one book—it’s a whole tradition.

Every single year, I reread Pride and Prejudice. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of Elizabeth Bennet roasting people with impeccable manners or Mr. Darcy slowly becoming one of the greatest romantic leads of all time. It’s one of those stories that somehow gets better every time I read it.

I also reread Much Ado About Nothing every year. Shakespeare can be intimidating, but this play has always been one of my favorites. The banter between Beatrice and Benedick is still top-tier enemies-to-lovers, and honestly, I don’t think anyone has done it better in over 400 years.

Then, every two years, I used to reread the entire Twilight Saga. Say what you want about Twilight—I genuinely love it. It’s nostalgic, cozy, and reminds me of being a teenager. There’s something comforting about revisiting Forks every couple of years.

Well… there was.

About a year ago, when Hector and I were moving, I somehow managed to accidentally put my Twilight books in the donation box. I didn’t realize it until they were already gone. I’m still not over it. Somewhere out there, someone got a free Twilight collection, and I hope they’re enjoying it because I’m still mourning the loss.

One day I’ll replace them and start my reread tradition again. Until then, Pride and Prejudice and Much Ado About Nothing are holding down the fort.

Apparently, I’m just the kind of reader who likes revisiting old favorites as much as discovering new stories. There’s something special about returning to books that have grown with you through different stages of life.

If I could live anywhere in the world, and money wasn’t an issue, I’d choose a beach house somewhere along the Northern California coast. Maybe near Monterey, or even farther north toward Eureka. I’d also love just about anywhere along the coast of Oregon or Washington.

What I’m really after is that small-town waterfront vibe—the kind you see in Hallmark movies. Cozy local shops, misty mornings by the water, friendly neighbors, scenic views, and a slower pace of life. It just feels peaceful, charming, and like the perfect place to call home.

I used to hate sports as a kid.

Technically, I played T-ball, but “played” is doing a lot of heavy lifting. I was the kid standing in left field picking flowers instead of paying attention to the game. When it was finally my turn to bat, I somehow managed to run to the wrong base.

Needless to say, I was not exactly a future athlete.

Fast forward to now, and somehow I’ve become the person yelling at the TV during baseball games.

You’ll catch me watching a batter swing at a pitch that’s clearly unhittable and immediately going, “Why are we swinging at that?!”

Like… today is not magically the day you’re going to hit that nasty curveball. Let’s be honest with ourselves here.

I don’t know when the switch happened, but somewhere along the way I became emotionally invested in sports, and now complete strangers can genuinely affect my mood for the next three hours.

Life is weird.

Something I genuinely believed as a child—and now realize is completely ridiculous—was that the devil could come into your room through an open window.

If you know the movie The Exorcist, then you probably know exactly where this fear came from.

I grew up in a very religious family, and between that and watching The Exorcist way too young, the idea stuck. But it wasn’t just the movie. I was also told over and over not to sleep with my window open. My parents believed that sleeping with the window open at night would make you sick, and instead of simply saying that, they decided the best scare tactic was… The Exorcist.

Needless to say, it worked.

For years, I hated horror movies, and I refused to sleep with the window open. Even after I stopped believing the whole “the devil will come through the window” part, I still held onto the idea that sleeping with it open would automatically make me sick. Funny how childhood beliefs can evolve instead of disappearing completely.

Hector, on the other hand, loves sleeping with the window open. It became a recurring debate in our house because I was firmly Team Closed Window.

Ironically, the only thing that finally changed my mind was pregnancy. Once I started overheating every single day, I didn’t care about any of my childhood conditioning anymore—I just wanted air. Suddenly, sleeping with the window open didn’t seem so scary.

It’s funny how some childhood fears have layers. First, it was fear of the devil. Then it became fear of getting sick. Even after the original belief was gone, part of it lingered for years.

Looking back now, it’s wild to think an open window had that much power over me.

Okay, so do I think humans will ever colonize Mars?

Maybe. But I think a lot of people hear “colonize Mars” and picture cute little space neighborhoods, kids riding bikes in low gravity, and everyone living their best futuristic life. And honestly? The reality would probably be way less glamorous.

If we’re looking at it from a practical standpoint, Mars is kind of a terrible real estate investment.

Sure, we’ll probably send people there eventually. Humans love doing things simply because nobody has done them before. Somebody is absolutely going to plant a flag, take a selfie, and make history. That’s the easy part.

The hard part is staying.

Mars doesn’t really have anything that makes me think, “Yes, this is worth spending trillions of dollars on forever.” There’s nothing we know of that would be valuable enough to ship back to Earth, and if we ever do develop a space economy, the Moon and nearby asteroids seem way more convenient. They’re closer, cheaper, and don’t require a months-long road trip through space.

And here’s the thing nobody likes to talk about: a colony isn’t really a colony if it’s constantly waiting for Amazon Prime deliveries from Earth.

A true colony would need to grow its own food, make its own supplies, produce its own medicine, repair its own equipment, and survive if Earth stopped answering the phone. We’re nowhere near that. Like, not even close.

So what would life actually look like?

Honestly? Less Star Trek and more living inside a very expensive Costco bunker.

You’d spend most of your life indoors. Every breath of air would be artificially produced. Every glass of water would be recycled. Going outside would require a spacesuit. There are no cute cafés, no beach days, no random Target runs because you forgot one thing and somehow spent $200.

It’s basically all of the inconveniences of camping mixed with all of the responsibilities of running a life-support system.

But despite all that, I still think people will go.

Not because it makes financial sense.

Not because Mars is some backup Earth.

But because humans are deeply nosy. We always want to know what’s over the next mountain, across the next ocean, or beyond the next planet. It’s probably one of our most defining traits as a species.

So yes, I think people will eventually live on Mars.

Do I think I’ll be putting down a deposit on a Martian condo?

Absolutely not.

I’ll be right here on Earth with oxygen, iced coffee, and a planet that already comes with an atmosphere.

In school, I remember learning about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. You know, the pyramid that starts with food, water, and shelter at the bottom and eventually works its way up to self-actualization at the top. At the time, it seemed pretty straightforward: meet your basic needs, keep climbing, and eventually you’ll become your best self.

As an adult, though, life feels a lot messier than a pyramid.

I work a customer service job. I make a little more than minimum wage. My husband and I are expecting our first baby. We’re also trying to move because we can’t find a house that fits our budget and our growing family. On paper, there is a lot of uncertainty in my life right now.

And yet, strangely, I feel content.

Not because I have everything figured out. Not because my bank account is overflowing. Not because I’ve reached some magical level of adulthood where nothing stresses me out.

I feel content because I’m not carrying all of this alone.

When I think about the most important things needed for a good life, I don’t think it’s money, success, or even stability. Those things help, of course. But what has made the biggest difference for me lately is community.

My mom is there when I need her. My best friend is there. The people I love show up for me in big ways and small ways. They help me solve problems, celebrate wins, listen to my worries, and remind me that hard seasons don’t last forever.

Life is still uncertain. We still have decisions to make. There are still days when I wonder how everything is going to work out.

But uncertainty feels a lot less overwhelming when you have people standing beside you.

Maybe that’s the thing Maslow’s pyramid got right all along. Right in the middle of it is love and belonging. Not at the top. Not as some bonus reward you get after you’ve accomplished everything else. Right in the center.

Maybe a good life isn’t about having complete certainty. Maybe it’s about having people you can lean on while you figure things out.

And right now, that’s enough for me.

For many average Americans, especially those who rent, work hourly jobs, or never accumulate major assets, the legacy they leave isn’t primarily financial.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.

I’m probably never going to leave behind a mansion, a trust fund, or some life-changing inheritance. Most of us won’t. But the older I get, the more I realize that maybe legacy was never just about money in the first place.

I want to leave behind family traditions. I want my daughter to remember movie nights, holiday rituals, recipes passed around on worn-out note cards, and the stories we tell over and over until everyone knows the punchline.

I want to leave behind values, too. The importance of hard work. Choosing kindness when the world feels harsh. Getting back up when life knocks you down. Showing up for your community and the people you love.

If one day my family can say, “She loved us well,” honestly, that’s the kind of wealth I’m hoping to leave behind.

Choosing a favorite childhood book is difficult because different books were important to me at different stages of my life. One of my earliest favorites was Gooney Bird Greene by Lois Lowry. I loved reading about Gooney Bird because she was confident, creative, and unapologetically herself. When I was in elementary school, I admired how eccentric and unique she was, and I wanted to be just like her. She taught me that it was okay to stand out and embrace what makes you different.

As I got older and entered middle school, my reading interests changed dramatically. I became completely obsessed with the House of Night series by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast, as well as Libba Bray’s Gemma Doyle trilogy. These series introduced me to darker fantasy worlds filled with mystery, magic, and complex characters. They expanded my imagination and encouraged me to explore genres beyond the books I had enjoyed as a child.

In high school, I transitioned to more adult novels and discovered Barbara Taylor Bradford’s Emma Hart series. I was fascinated by Emma’s determination, ambition, and resilience. Reading about such a strong female character inspired me and showed me how powerful perseverance can be.

While many books captured my attention for a period of time, some series became much more significant in my life. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Twilight, and Maximum Ride were not simply books I enjoyed and then moved on from. Instead, they became defining parts of my life and identity as a reader. I grew up alongside these stories, eagerly awaiting new releases, discussing them with friends, and revisiting them over the years. They helped shape my love of reading and remain meaningful to me today.

Looking back, each of these books reflects a different stage of my life, making it nearly impossible to choose just one favorite.

Daily writing prompt

What’s a show that had the perfect series finale?

View all responses

I think a lot about what makes a “perfect” ending. Not necessarily a happy ending, but one that feels honest. For me, the ending of Fleabag is a masterpiece.

The first time I watched it, I just sat there staring at my screen feeling emotionally destroyed in the best way possible. It wasn’t wrapped up neatly with a bow. Nobody suddenly became perfect. Nobody magically healed overnight. It just… ended like real life does. Messy, complicated, bittersweet.

That’s what makes it so powerful.

The final scene feels like letting go of something you know you can’t keep, even if you love it deeply. And I think we’ve all had moments like that — friendships, relationships, versions of ourselves. Things ending even when there’s still love there.

Phoebe Waller-Bridge created something that feels painfully human. The ending hurts because it’s true. And honestly? Those are always the stories that stay with us the longest.