Daily writing prompt Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven't got around to visiting. View all responses The place is called Bramble’s Hollow. It’s fifteen minutes from my house. Ten if you ignore the speed bumps and the warning sign about flooding. Everyone knows it. No one goes there. That should have been my first clue.

If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be? I have a list for my cat: I am not dying. You are not being abandoned. The bin is not attacking the house. The vacuum is loud, not evil. The bathroom is not a team sport. Meowing does not unlock bonus features. Crying does not speed things up.And to be extremely clear.

Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc. My first name almost wasn’t my name. I was nearly Cameron. Allegedly. This is family lore, which means no one can verify it and everyone swears it’s true. My mom liked it. Then someone told her it meant “crooked nose.”Was that accurate? No idea.Did it matter? Also no.

What's your dream job? I’m already in my dream job, honestly. I don’t really picture some other role or title when I think about the future. This is the work I care about and the work I want to be doing. The dream now isn’t changing jobs… it’s being able to keep doing this one without burning myself out. I want to keep learning, get better at it as I go, and not feel completely drained all the time. I want to do my job well and still have energy left for my life at the end of the day. Stay weird, Christiana

A good leader is the person people want to follow even when things get uncomfortable, messy, or downright annoying.

Daily writing prompt If you could un-invent something, what would it be? View all responses If I could un-invent something, it would be the idea that being busy means being important. Not useful.Not fulfilled.Important. Somewhere along the way, exhaustion became proof of worth. “I’m so busy” turned into a personality trait instead of a warning sign. People say it automatically now, like it’s a reflex.

Daily writing prompt Can you share a positive example of where you've felt loved? View all responses I don’t just think in circles. I live in them. I put my phone in the fridge. I leave my keys in the bathroom. I start making coffee and forget about it… then remember… then forget again. By the time I finally drink it, it’s already cold, and I’m surprised every time.

What is your favorite animal? My favourite animal is the owl. Not the dramatic nature-documentary owl that swoops out of nowhere like a ghost with feathers. I mean the cartoon owl. The soft, round one with big eyes and a calm little face that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. Owls feel steady. They look like they know what’s going on, even if they don’t say much.

In what ways do you communicate online? I talk online the way my brain moves… a bit fast, a bit messy, and usually in pieces. Thoughts show up and I send them before they disappear. If I try to hold onto them too long, they slip away and I forget what I was saying halfway through. So my messages come in bursts.

Think back on your most memorable road trip. You remember the arguments first. Who’s driving. Who’s navigating.Fighting over the radio. Skipping each other’s songs like it’s a personal attack. The road stretches forever. Big horizon. Flat land. That one moment where everyone goes quiet because the sunset actually shuts people up for once. Someone takes a photo. It never looks as good as it felt.

What snack would you eat right now? Cheesecurls. The answer is always cheesecurls. Stay weird, Christiana 😉

Vaelith rules what remains after desire is stripped of shame and memory is burned to ash. She is older than doctrine, older than mercy, and uninterested in being forgiven. She does not seduce... she allows. What survives her was always meant to. Stay weird, Christiana

The weather has always known more than we give it credit for. It carries ancient instincts in its bones, remembers patterns long before we learned how to name them. A sky doesn’t ask permission before it shifts. It doesn’t negotiate. It just does the work. That’s the truth of it… change arrives whether we’re ready or not. Some days come in…

The sign outside flickered. Most of the letters stayed lit, but the B in BREAKDOWN blinked on and off in an uneven rhythm. Bright. Dark. Bright again. Someone pointed it out while unlocking the door. Someone else shrugged, and the door was opened anyway. Inside, the bar still smelled new. Fresh paint, clean wood, and the sharp scent from the ice machine hung in the air.

They place the Rubik’s Cube in my hands. The room is too clean, too white, the kind of space where mistakes feel louder. Somewhere in the building, a poison is waiting in the vents, patient, inevitable. They tell me solving the puzzle could stop it. Could save hundreds. Could. That word sticks. I turn the cube once. The soft click feels final, like a door closing.

Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it? I had a blue hoodie.Nothing special. No brand name worth remembering. The sleeves were too long and smelled faintly like laundry detergent that never quite rinsed out. It lived on the back of my chair, then the floor, then my shoulders—always my shoulders—like it was afraid I’d disappear if it let go.

The world kept moving today.

Honestly? Living a very long life sounds like a mixed bag with excellent snacks and questionable knees.

What could you do differently? Ah. Could. The sneaky little word that opens a door and then doesn’t shove you through it. Here’s the thing about could: it doesn’t demand growth. It just clears its throat politely and gestures at a few exits. I could pause before answering instead of replying like I’m speed-running honesty. I could sleep instead of revenge-researching something at 1:17 a.m.

When you don't need prompts and words just flow.

Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why? I think about the future the way other people think about dinner.Constantly. With urgency. And three backup plans in case the oven breaks, society collapses, or I suddenly decide I’m gluten-free again. The past?Filed. Labeled. Occasionally heckles from the audience.“Remember that thing?”Yes. I do.

The greatest gift someone could give me is...

I attended one before I learned how to spell my name properly. Enrollment was automatic. Orientation never ended.

People think playtime means toys. Or recess. Or laughing so hard milk comes out your nose.I think playtime is when my brain grabs something and goes, mine now, and refuses to put it down until everyone else is tired. Playtime is whatever I am hyperfocused on.I didn’t say that word out loud. I just thought it very loudly.

Look at the universe providing. I had written this post before I saw today's prompt, but my goodness does it fit. I’m starting a journal and I’m scared of it in a very specific way. Not because it’s hard, but because I know myself. I know how many notebooks I’ve started with hope and then left untouched once the novelty wore off.