Category: Featured Writers

Prominent Atlanta Author Targeted In Robbery Attempt 

Buckhead (Atlanta) tastemaker Danielle Rollins, author of “Soirée: Entertaining with Style”

Buckhead tastemaker Danielle Rollins, author of “Soirée: Entertaining with Style” and recently named one of “The Salonniere’s” 100 best party hosts in America, survived a bold home-invasion attempt this weekend at her Buckhead house. “I’m obviously rather freaked out and tired, but I’m not going to be scared out of my own house,” she told the AJC newspaper.

Rollins was unpacking the night after Christmas, after a holiday break, when someone tried to enter her home.


She shared the following message on her Facebook account:

The private security guard I hired after my last break-in three weeks ago, and probably for the rest of my life now after this, chased at least two men through a neighbor’s yard. They dropped a backpack containing items including but not limited to guns, mace and ties. The (Atlanta) Police Department responded immediately, blocking and securing the area, with helicopter and canine patrol. This is not a way to live.

Read more about this story as well as the robbery of Buckhead high end events planner Toni Moceri in which she was held at gunpoint for 90 minutes. AJC.com

Tupac’s ‘Thug Life Is Dead’ Jailhouse Letter On Sale For $225K

  
Tupac Shakur declared “Thug Life” was dead to him in an emotional letter that included a road map for his “homiez” to make it out of the hood — and according to TMZ, that letter is now for sale.

Tupac’s 5 page correspondence to a Death Row employee was written in 1995 while he was in jail for rape. The letter includes some deep thoughts about being ready to let someone else rep the thug life — which he famously tatted on his torso.

He wrote, “U must play the game, not let the game play u. A regular Playa plays women, a Boss Playa plays life. A Boss Playa is a thinker, a leader, a builder, a moneymaker, a souljah, a teacher and most of all, a Man! ” 

Tupac also said, “I want all my homiez to know there is another level.”

The letter is being sold by a memorabilia site called Moments in Time, the $225,000 price is fixed. 

Source | TMZ 

FEATURED POST: Depression Is Not Beautiful

  

Written by marjramos– I get sucked under the waves of varying ferocity with no sense of direction. I don’t want help and I refuse to get better. Every waking day, it occurs to me that I don’t want to leave. My damaged body fights a long battle against my mind, both telling me different things. 

My friends and family see the problem, but I don’t. I look at the endless empty boxes of takeout, or I clean up after purging, or bandage bleeding wounds, but I see this as normal – I’ve never known anything else. It eludes from the change I desire to have; I’m doing fine on my own, ain’t I?

I hit a solid wall when I try to get a clear understanding of anything, so I stop trying. I am reminded daily of my flaws, reciting them to myself under my breath, hiding the words with half-hearted laughs. I’m nothing but a piece of crap and my life is a big joke. My skin is sliced open. Razor blades are bloody. There are band aids in the trash by the sink of the cold, lonely bathroom.

I must take a step back and inspect the damage. I sift through what remains of my life, never seeing the broken shards of the sanity I once had and not knowing I need to put them back together to form what it had been once before. Deep down, I know, there will always be lines to remind me of the fractures where I shakily repaired myself, so why bother?

I am forced to get some help and I am grateful for this. No longer do I hide away, make excuses, and cover my scars with long sleeves. I feel connected to the outside world for the first time in a very long time and it is an extremely liberating feeling.

I laugh, I cry, I make memories, and I finally enjoy life. I am no longer alone, hopeless, scared, or misunderstood. Every encounter is a small touch of warmth that never leaves, only burns brighter and brighter until I shine with a light I’ve never known. I want to cry, but out of happiness instead of sadness.

In a moment of clarity, I realize how alike I am to a flower. I grow in beauty, wither in sickness, and am carried by the seeds I left behind. This is my life. 

This post was originally featured on Thought Catalog