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30
worthiness. It doesn’t help just to say the words. I gave up worrying about my death years ago. It’s an unworthy waste of energy. Everyone dies. The real worry is ensuring you live your life as best you can while you’re alive. Nor am I suspicious person. I do, however, believe in karma; that whatever comes arounds goes around, or whatever goes around comes around. I believe that, because I’ve seen the proof.

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01
LeThis is the synopsis of a novel I recently finished. Look for it soon

Leilani Kupua, a powerful priestess of the Hawaiian island of Moloka’i, and her business partner, Joseph Harding, are fighting the tourists clogging Front Street in Lahaina, Maui, as they make their way to the Bank to explain why their dive boat loan is past due. Leilani’s thrilled to note that the mysterious sixteenth-century schooner, the Lilith, has anchored in the Pailolo channel again. She’s been obsessed with the Lilith and its captain since she her childhood on

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31
For those who follow my blog, yes, this is the second posting of this story, but with the passing of my mother last month, the striking differences between their ceremonies got me missing my father’s funeral.

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30
I had many ideas for my blog this month, but one piece of news I heard just struck me as wrong, and I felt it worth writing about. I heard recently that some civil rights activists find it offensive that statues and memorials commemorating the American civil War remain standing, and they want them torn down as if destroying them and the memories of history would change our problems today.

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30
Eons ago, when I started my first book, I didn’t know squat about writing. One of my first problems was keeping my imagination flowing. Back then I hadn’t developed the writing habits that help keep my imagination going like nowadays. The only thing I discovered was that I needed to relax. I had always heard that some writers like Hemmingway and Stephen King were heavy drinkers. So I decided what was good enough for them would probably work for me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

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28
It seems a part of getting together with old friends that inevitably the conversation stays to “remember when?” and the “good-ole days.”

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31
I have never claimed to be a nice person. It wasn’t in my upbringing. My father was a mean drunk who not only didn’t have time for a family, he wanted a different one He was a notorious womanizer who claimed I was an accident; and a lazy shit who was unworthy of wasting his hard-earned money.

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31
I endured another holiday of family gatherings with my normal lack of gusto. Visiting my mother who has given up on life, and refuses to get out of bed was depressing enough. The rest of Christmas day was spent with my son and in-laws.

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