Strategies for Pivoting or Stopping Unhelpful Conversations — I met with a few folks from my team last week. One of them said something incredulous. What? Did I hear him right? The others on the Zoom call, perhaps noticing my not-so-poker face, looked away uncomfortably. “I do not agree,” I said. He stares at me, eyes widening. …

Larry, please permit me to enter the confessional. I could share the words I input for Midjourney to imagine from a sharing, teaching or open-source code point of view. I don't worry about folks replicating the image Midjourney presents. I rest on the comfort of knowing that even when people use the same prompts as me, a different result emerges every time. Still, you have given me something to think about consciously: why do I disclose?

You've heard this one, right! Balance, say no, year, right! Not you can't. But, I offer some alternatives. Some, "Yes, and" options that will help you keep your sanity, please your leaders, and help you continue to be the superstar that you are!

To whom it may concern: K. Joseph is unable to publish stories at the same pace as she has been. During this and the forthcoming month, her family and work commitments present her with distinct opportunities for alternative modes of expression. She will return to Medium later in June. Until then, support some of her favorite writers. Click Here.

Get to Know Me Better: 9 Questions to Ask About My Interests — This month, I would like to offer up nine (9) stories on Medium I thoroughly enjoyed. First, as a collection, they tell you a bit about me, K. Joseph. And, as a diverse ensemble, you may find them entertaining, thought-provoking action-provoking and delightful. CLICK HERE: Read these and all my…

My claps don’t seem to stick sometimes. Something’s up. But what? Is it just me holding down? Count to 50, but no…lemme try again. I want you to know that I appreciate your written words. Thank you, for bringing this to our world 🙌🏾.

Seeing the voice she heard. — Malvina Shields has a gift. While working in an orphanage, she stumbled upon her ability. One night, checking on a favorite child, she noticed a peculiar glow. Assuming it was an electronic device left on, she went into the room to turn it off. What she saw made her gasp. …

I am a woman, a daughter, and a person inhabited by relentless confidants. — The whispers came to me since I was a baby. The voices no one else heard. I remember the moment I lost the position of my mama’s pride and joy. It was the moment I became too strange, too much. I was one with my constant companions. They were always…

Could I have changed something? — “I saw her, the woman who took the girl’s life,” I said. My was voice low and tense. “What woman?” my friend asked. She looked up from her phone. “The homeless woman who stabbed that girl,” I replied. “Oh, I remember reading about that,” my friend said, setting her phone…