~ A tender meditation by Mia on preparing my heart for the man meant for me.~ Image created using Canva AI.

~ A tender meditation by Mia on preparing my heart for the man meant for me. ~ Image created using Canva AI.

LOVE | A Heart Waiting to Bloom

Greetings! So, I found myself retired, and let’s be honest, I needed something to keep my brain from turning into mush. Enter Twitter! One fateful scroll later, I stumbled upon a professor who read my wild fiction tales and suggested I try my hand at Medium. Suddenly, I was struck with a serious case of writing fever! You see, back in college, I lived for books and scribbling in my diary, and now in retirement, I've decided to unleash my inner stories siren. Since then, I’ve dipped my toes into a buffet of writing platforms like Medium (RIP to my naïve deleted works), Amazon Kindle Vella (Amazon shut down the platform), and places like Wattpad, Vocal Media, Novellea, Patreon, Substack, and Lulu, where my debut eBooks found their home. My stories across these platforms are free for all, like candy on Halloween, while the eBooks come with a small fee (don’t worry, they’re really cheap!). And yes, I’ve taken my storytelling to the microphone… well, sort of. These days, I let AI Voice take the mic, because honestly, I’m tired of performing every story myself. It’s exhausting. My older podcast episodes on Spotify feature my actual voice (go ahead, hear me in all my glory), but here? It’s AI Voice, baby. Think of it as my digital stunt double, no throat lozenges required. Now, let’s talk memoir. Picture this: me, a ninja secretary filing “confidential” papers, scheduling executive meetings for high‑ranking officials, greeting dignitaries, making covert coffee runs, creating travel authorization orders, and managing motorcades for their various meetings around Washington, D.C. But before all that glamour, I was a telecommunications specialist, and there was the incident. One heated exchange with my boss (I may have said too much), and boom, reassigned from communications specialist to the dungeon basement mailroom. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Geez, what a demotion! But fate had jokes: and then—WHAM! A package exploded on me, paper everywhere, lipstick still intact, and somehow, that was my launchpad into global covert missions. Can you believe this twist of events? Yes, I became Special Agent Mia Z! But don’t worry, I won’t spill any classified secrets, just the hilariously weird moments that made my job unforgettable. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any wilder, plot twist! A trusted friend turned foe, and I beat him up so badly the ambulance hauled him off to the hospital. And then? The police handcuffed me! Unbelievable. After that trauma, that’s when I found Jesus. You know how we do, ignore Him during the calm, then show up in the front pew like, “Lord, it’s me again… with a situation.” After the baptism, the Holy Spirit turned on the spiritual surveillance system, and I could instantly identify who was clearly auditioning for Team Lucifer. Nonetheless, I started focusing on getting my education in college, because being around shady demons was no longer my ministry. These stories are told in small, simple moments, little snapshots of the experiences that shaped me. Oh, and did I mention I’m a hopeless romantic? Love is my jam! I write love musings because who doesn’t dream of being swept off their feet? Sure, I love myself (seriously, have you met me?), but nothing beats the thrill of romance. Writing about love has become my creative escape, especially when retirement gets a bit lonely. Enter: fiction, because the truth needed a break. Think drama, wit, and a dash of unpredictably. These stories are bold, modern, merging the realms of reality. Now retired, I still drink coffee like I’m back in the office, except instead of chasing a thousand signatures on one travel order or scheduling meetings to the minute, the coffee now fuels me to write tales of my government days, fictitious stories that blur the line between fact and fantasy, and love musings of being swept off my feet by a man whose strength matched his tenderness. Written by me, Mia.

Arts

Visual Arts

Greetings! So, I found myself retired, and let’s be honest, I needed something to keep my brain from turning into mush. Enter Twitter! One fateful scroll later, I stumbled upon a professor who read my wild fiction tales and suggested I try my hand at Medium. Suddenly, I was struck with a serious case of writing fever! You see, back in college, I lived for books and scribbling in my diary, and now in retirement, I've decided to unleash my inner stories siren. Since then, I’ve dipped my toes into a buffet of writing platforms like Medium (RIP to my naïve deleted works), Amazon Kindle Vella (Amazon shut down the platform), and places like Wattpad, Vocal Media, Novellea, Patreon, Substack, and Lulu, where my debut eBooks found their home. My stories across these platforms are free for all, like candy on Halloween, while the eBooks come with a small fee (don’t worry, they’re really cheap!). And yes, I’ve taken my storytelling to the microphone… well, sort of. These days, I let AI Voice take the mic, because honestly, I’m tired of performing every story myself. It’s exhausting. My older podcast episodes on Spotify feature my actual voice (go ahead, hear me in all my glory), but here? It’s AI Voice, baby. Think of it as my digital stunt double, no throat lozenges required. Now, let’s talk memoir. Picture this: me, a ninja secretary filing “confidential” papers, scheduling executive meetings for high‑ranking officials, greeting dignitaries, making covert coffee runs, creating travel authorization orders, and managing motorcades for their various meetings around Washington, D.C. But before all that glamour, I was a telecommunications specialist, and there was the incident. One heated exchange with my boss (I may have said too much), and boom, reassigned from communications specialist to the dungeon basement mailroom. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Geez, what a demotion! But fate had jokes: and then—WHAM! A package exploded on me, paper everywhere, lipstick still intact, and somehow, that was my launchpad into global covert missions. Can you believe this twist of events? Yes, I became Special Agent Mia Z! But don’t worry, I won’t spill any classified secrets, just the hilariously weird moments that made my job unforgettable. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any wilder, plot twist! A trusted friend turned foe, and I beat him up so badly the ambulance hauled him off to the hospital. And then? The police handcuffed me! Unbelievable. After that trauma, that’s when I found Jesus. You know how we do, ignore Him during the calm, then show up in the front pew like, “Lord, it’s me again… with a situation.” After the baptism, the Holy Spirit turned on the spiritual surveillance system, and I could instantly identify who was clearly auditioning for Team Lucifer. Nonetheless, I started focusing on getting my education in college, because being around shady demons was no longer my ministry. These stories are told in small, simple moments, little snapshots of the experiences that shaped me. Oh, and did I mention I’m a hopeless romantic? Love is my jam! I write love musings because who doesn’t dream of being swept off their feet? Sure, I love myself (seriously, have you met me?), but nothing beats the thrill of romance. Writing about love has become my creative escape, especially when retirement gets a bit lonely. Enter: fiction, because the truth needed a break. Think drama, wit, and a dash of unpredictably. These stories are bold, modern, merging the realms of reality. Now retired, I still drink coffee like I’m back in the office, except instead of chasing a thousand signatures on one travel order or scheduling meetings to the minute, the coffee now fuels me to write tales of my government days, fictitious stories that blur the line between fact and fantasy, and love musings of being swept off my feet by a man whose strength matched his tenderness. Written by me, Mia.

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LOVE | A Heart Waiting to Bloom

LOVE | A Heart Waiting to Bloom