The Promise of AI

Artificial Intelligence (AI), the ability of a machine or a computer program to think and learn like a human, for decades was more fiction than reality. But today it’s impacting nearly every industry…

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What I Wish I Had Told My Parents

Teenage trauma: 5 Reasons teens don’t tell their parents about sexual abuse

He gave me sort of a funny feeling from the start. He had a beautiful wife — a cross between Megan Fox and Monica Bellucci. She had snow-white skin and cherub cheeks that were complemented by long, luxuriant black hair.

I want to say her name was Rose Marie. It would have matched her essence — elegant, modest, reserved. Their infant stayed next to her in a stroller.

He was tall, lean, and over-confident. His outdated red mustache was the first thing you noticed.

I marveled at how different they were.

It seemed a little “off” that he would welcome neck massages from giddy girls who appeared to be competing for his attention, but I kept that thought to myself.

I guess it all started when I told Brent of Mallory’s affection for him. Mallory, a friend since childhood, invited me to her church youth camp, where we spent a week in musty college dorm rooms at a campus 500 miles away from home. She seemed happy that I agreed to join, and I was desperate not to disappoint her. This was how I was exposed to him — the leader, the youth director, the massage hoarder.

In our camp activities and at mealtimes, we met a heart-throb football player from Alabama — his name was Brent. We made lots of “small talk” and shared a few personal things about our lives — what our family was like, what we do in our spare time, and whether or not we knew Jesus.

We both were infatuated with him, but Mallory claimed him first, so I gave her dibs. She asked if I would talk to Brent about her, so I mustered up the courage to initiate the awkward conversation.

It was met with disquieting news — he was interested not in her but me! How puzzling. Having struggled with a twenty-pound weight shift since quitting gymnastics, I perceived myself as having the body type that no one would want. And even more important, I didn’t want to lose my friend.

“I…I…I…No!” I stammered. She would kill me.

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