Don't Let Someone Else Define Who You Are!


Don't Let Someone Else Define Who You Are! ...by Bill Knell

Most people don't like being stuck with a particular LABEL. Labels have become a large part of who people think we are and that's a disturbing trend. It seems that when we meet new people, we have to immediately identify what groups or philosophies we associate ourselves with. Liberal? Conservative? Independent? Single? Married? Divorced? Mom? Step Mom? Dad? Step Dad? Brother? Sister? Step Brother? Step Sister? Dating? Not Dating? Straight? Gay? Lesbian? Bi-Sexual? White? African American? Hispanic? Native American? Oriental? Indian? Christian? Jewish? Muslim? In a society that moves fast, these labels tend to define who we are to others in the quickest fashion possible.

Once we receive a Label, people expect us to act like whatever the particular label implies. If you're a Conservative, you listen to Rush Limbaugh, go along with whatever George Bush does and take the bread out of the mouths of babies and give it to corporation executives. If you're Liberal, you agree with whatever Democratic Leaders say, you're for big government and hate tax cuts. You want to empty the paychecks of all Americans into the mouths of the poor and your ethics are defined by the situation they revolve around. Don't like those definitions? Neither do I! But that's the result of living in a Label-oriented society. So how do we get out of this chicken outfit?

In the early days of computing when programs required a lot more time and effort to write, you were likely to see little signs posted around the machines which stated, "GARBAGE IN, GARBAGE OUT!" You're unlikely to see those signs today. Most Programmers and IT folk hate that phrase and view it as an archaic sign of past times. But that doesn't make it any less true. Carelessly written code is worthless in today's computer-driven world. Not only can it cause problems for whatever function the program is designed to complete, but it can easily disrupt an entire process that's designed to work along with it.

One way out of the system that Labels you is to stop allowing others to define who you are! The road to self-definition begins with a determination to move away from intake of the same information that everyone else consumes. Garbage in, garbage out. I know a lot number of people who purchase tons of self-help books and watch daytime TV talk shows, believing every word some host or expert says as gospel. The problem is that most of the people who write those books, host those shows or appear as guests have more problematic issues in their own lives, then the people watching them! It seems ludicrous to take marriage advice from someone whose been divorced many times or look for child rearing tips from people with no kids or out of control children? People seeking advice are actually looking for someone to define them, make decisions for them and run their lives.

The alternative to being defined is to define. The help you seek might just be staring you right in the face. When is the last time you made a decision, completely on your own? You know YOU better then anyone else. You understand your likes, dislikes and know what makes you tick. Where is it written that you have to run with a certain crowd or do certain things? People often say to me, "I keep making the same mistakes over and over again!" Why? Most of the time it's because they lack the confidence required for change that comes from being a self-made individual, as opposed to yet another cog in the societal wheel. Is that you? Well, the good news is that every day that the sun comes up is an opportunity to start over. To allow someone to define you is to subscribe to a false belief that may not fit who you really are.

Another false belief is that changing your environment will improve your life. Divorce has become the new alka seltzer for relationship problems. You get a stomach ache, you take Alka Seltzer. You have problems in your marriage, you get a divorce. In some Southern States divorce has become so commonplace that the court structure meant to deal with alimony, child/spouse support and the granting of divorce decrees is near collapse. Tennessee now has mandatory counseling for couples considering divorce, hoping that some marriages can be saved. Lawmakers hope this will lessen the burden on the people and children involved, the services needed to police support payments, the court system in general and what it costs the state to deal with it all. A recent report supported that idea by showing that most people who get divorced end up more unhappy then people who stay in troubled marriages. The lesson? Before you call 1-800-d-i-v-o-r-c-e, try counseling. You may be able to change things for the better in your life and the lives of your family right where you are.

No matter what your situation is, being a stand-up individual that doesn't allow their friends, family, co-workers, peer group or some TV talk show host to define and dictate who you are is likely to improve your life. That's because it's always better to be YOU, then someone you are not. And when others tell you what you can't do or accomplish, remember that your ability to make things happen has nothing to do with anyone else's opinion of what you're capable or incapable of doing.

Thomas Edison was kicked out of school in the sixth grade because his teachers thought he was a simpleton, unable to concentrate on his work. Albert Einstein was a patent clerk in Switzerland who spent his spare time fooling around with theories. Babe Ruth was sent to a work house because he parents couldn't afford to keep him. Considered incorrigible, he spent more time on the streets then anywhere else, but turned an interest in baseball into a fabulous career. Always overweight, even that didn't stop him from being one of the greatest baseball players and most famous people of his time. More people once knew who Babe Ruth was, then who the vice president of the United States or the Mayor of New York was! President Franklin D. Roosevelt dug our nation out of a terrible depression and helped to win a war fought on more fronts then any other time in history and he did it all from a wheelchair.

Each one of these famous people stepped out of their circumstances and stepped up to being individuals that would allow nothing to stand in the way of their accomplishments. So what are YOU waiting for?

Bill can be contacted on FACEBOOK

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This is a true story about Sex Workersl.I know because I witnessed most of what you will read about. The rest I gleaned from long conversations with some of the people involved… WARNING: SOME EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS 

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Kailey Fields offers readers fresh and very human fiction stories that are unique, yet relatable.


The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.


The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Each step crunched on the forest floor, a sound amplified in the suffocating silence of the Blackwood Forest. My breath hitched in my throat, a thin plume of white mist disappearing into the inky blackness. The only light came from my lantern, a feeble spark against the overwhelming darkness that pressed in from all sides, swallowing the forest in its shadowy embrace. Above, the branches of ancient trees twisted like skeletal fingers, their gnarled silhouettes scratching at the moonless sky.

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The darkness claimed me, swallowing me whole. But in death, a twisted metamorphosis occurred. The venom of betrayal, the searing agony of death, transformed into a cold, unrelenting fire. I became a specter, an instrument of vengeance. The chilling weight of my decomposing body became a burden that fueled my relentless pursuit.

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Grandma Elara's tales filled the quiet evenings at her house. The aroma of woodsmoke and simmering herbs hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of old books and the comforting warmth of her presence. Her cozy old house seemed to hum with a gentle energy, a place where ancient stories and timeless secrets intertwined. The antique furniture, each piece telling a story of its own, seemed to come alive as she spun her tales, the very atmosphere of the house adding to the mystique of the Ceasg and its watery realm.

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Cerelia, a museum employee with a penchant for the obscure and a healthy dose of skepticism tempered by an insatiable curiosity, had been cleaning the newly acquired collection of ancient artifacts. She was meticulous, and painstaking in her work, a sharp contrast to the hurried pace of the city outside the museum walls. She liked the quiet solitude of the museum, a world apart from the noisy urban jungle. She found solace in the relics of the past, each object whispering a story of bygone eras.

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Aislinn felt it too, a growing sense of unease, not just from the tales of a missing Prince, but from the visions teased by the necklace. The shadowed figure, the one with piercing eyes and a cruel smile,haunted her dreams and even invaded her waking moments. He was connected to the necklace, a palpable sense of threat radiating from the glowing pendant. The prince's fate, she now realized, was entwined with her own. And somewhere, a darkness waited, a darkness that the necklace seemed both to warn her about and guide her towards. The quiet village of Oakhaven, with its familiar rhythms and predictable patterns, could no longer contain her. 



The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.

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She traced the lines on her palm, searching for a familiar scar, a birthmark, anything to tether herself to a stable identity. Nothing. Even her own body felt slightly different, as if her reflection in the warped mirror across the room was an imposter. The subtle variations – the way her hair fell, a new freckle on her cheek, the faintest shift in her eyes – were enough to unsettle her further. It was as if she was perpetually teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground constantly shifting beneath her feet.

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