How did we get to a place where expressing an opposite opinion results in a defiant "I have a right to my views" response. So much fuss about rights. You have a right to express your opinion, and I have a right to not like it. Who is taking about taking away rights. Someone just told me recently that Trump has a right to his views on illegal immigration.  I gave a perplexed response and finally responded.  "So. He has a right to think whatever he wants and I have a right to think he's a bigot." At no time have I questioned his right to be a bad person. This happens in relationships, too. Someone tells their partner something and the partner responds with a different view. The response is often "I have a right to my feelings." We need to get back to the time when expression of differences is not seen as an assault on some right to one's own views. Happy Weekend.

Most of the time nothing has gone wrong. Trust the process.

One day someone's posting on Instagram how the Universe has a plan for you. The next day the same person is quoting Emerson on deciding your own destiny. Make up your mind! How about this for a novel change. Stop worrying about what plan is meant for you and make today important, whether it's towards a big goal or not. We've got things to do here and now.

Never been a type.  Always been a frequency.

Kike Steeb Hall is located on the south end of the Ohio State campus, along with several other dormitories. It was the better part of campus, for freshmen at least, because all the good college bars were located within four minutes’ walking distance. Mean Mr. Mustard’s was the alternative music bar on the corner of 11 th and High Street. It’s where I learned about tattoos, pink hair, and something called slam dancing, where kids would literally ram into each other on the dance floor. I’ve never been one for pain, so one try at that was enough for me. An ex-girlfriend once asked me to hit her hard during sex, and I declined that as well. Mother Fletcher’s was next door and played a mix of alternative and top 40. You had to walk down a long flight of steps to get to the underground bar, which seemed mysterious to a college student, except I had already snuck in several times in high school so it wasn’t that cool to me anymore. Two doors down, you had Park Alley, and was more or les