rumor mills

Recipe For: Rumors

Rumors. What a thing. They get started and then take off like wildfire! Today a friend from high school and I got to reminiscing about a rumor that’s now 24 years old!


Without giving away any incriminating information (which may be completely false for all we know!), it’s something that was such a big deal at our high school, and such a big rumor, we are still talking about it more than two decades later.

My personal belief is all rumors are rooted in some truth. It may be completely distorted and overblown, but these things just don’t begin out of nowhere. With this specific high school rumor, perhaps this person was in a compromising position and it looked worse than it was or was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not sure.

Obviously, rumors are fun because people live for salacious drama to take them out of their boring lives. It’s the same reason people watch The Bachelor, soap operas, and do all kinds of other dumb stuff, but safely from a distance, that doesn’t actually involve them.


But back to the recipe for rumors. We’re gonna need ingredients and directions and probably a whole lotta popcorn because things are going to get CRAZY!


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Heather Chastain

About Heather

(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.

Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.

So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL

I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.

I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.

Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …