I’m a Classics Major at small Liberal Arts College in the Midwest. I’ve loved Ancient Rome…pretty much since I could read, and the more I learn, the more fascinating it gets. At my college, it is traditional that most/all students study abroad at some point in their time at the school. I was planning to go next school year, but looking at the finances, my situation was grim. The program was to spend a semester in Sicily, learning about Classics in the places where it actually happened. But $10,000 is a lot of money and despite the scholarships offered to defray that cost, my family still couldn’t afford it. I vowed to go, and I found the cheapest living situation I could for the summer to save money. I work at a museum gift shop, which pays relatively well and live with friends. I spend as little as possible and read voraciously. I’ve even started learning Italian in preparation for the trip. I’m not going next year, but I will go the year after that. It seems like College is such a short time and that I should make the most of it while I can. That’s why I’m here. I want to make sure that I don’t waste any opportunities, and I make sure I can have this experience that I know will be worthwhile. I’ve talked to many people about the program and it sounds wonderful. I’m not earning much here, but I’m working on it bit by bit.

I drove home for Christmas break my junior year of college. As most typical college students do, I brought a large basketful of laundry with me to do at my parents’ house. I arrived at home, parked, and unloaded my car. As I walked up to the front door, I realized that my hands were too full to knock or even ring the doorbell. In retrospect, it would have been more efficient for me to simply put down the basket of laundry I was carrying and knock on the door. However, I brilliantly decided that the most efficient way to get my burden into the house would be to try to push the doorbell with my TONGUE. I craned my neck around the large basket I was holding and made contact with the doorbell. This led to two very important discoveries. First, I discovered that my tongue was not strong enough to depress the doorbell. Second, as I tried to stand up straight, I discovered that flagpoles are not the only winter danger to foolishly exposed tongues. My tongue was stuck, on both sides, to the metal frame going around the outside of the doorbell mount. Great. There was nothing for it. I stood up, ripping my tongue away from the adhesive-like grip of the metal. My tongue immediately started bleeding. By this time, my parents had come to the door, and I could only greet them with a half-hearted “Mewy Cwithmuth!”

I spent a semester away from my fiancee– i was traveling abroad and i missed him very much. One night, my friends and i were drinking a good bit, and i was sent down to the soda machine to get more Sprite. I was alone in the laundry room, staring at the soda machine, and a very stupid idea came into my head. “I can high kick this machine”. I had been watching a lot of Buffy lately, but I had no martial arts training, and no shoes on. This didn’t stop me from trying. I kicked out at the machine, and the momentum sent the rest of me to the floor. I broke my arm.

I am a rising junior in college. I have worked extremely hard all of my life. I was always told that doing well in school would make me happy. My high school GPA topped a 4.0, my SATs were nearly perfect, I go to a prestigious school. Was I told that doing well would make me happy? Or just that I needed to do it? Maybe I assumed the last part. Damn, assumptions do just what they say. All I’ve ever wanted is to be happy. I thought for the longest time that that was all anyone wanted. Some people want careers, some want marriages, some want godknows what – but the idea is that when you get it, you’ll be happy. Right? Or is it? I’m starting to think, more and more, that a lot of those people out there that I think are on their own little path to happiness are really just doing what they’re told. My friends always ask me for advice; I’m “that girl.” Is advice columnist in my future? Maybe. I’m majoring in psychology. Is grad school in my future? Likely. There are all of these options, different directions, different paths. So much time is spent on determining which one is just right. But there is only one thing I’m looking to find on my path: happiness. My story isn’t really written yet, but it’s unraveling before my eyes. It’s nothing exciting, nothing out of the ordinary. I just hope it’s good enough for me.

The day I was born, I was eight years late, and I have been catching up ever since. My parents always told me that I finally came into their lives because they let go of making it happen. Whether it was their belief that I came from God, or some sort of spiritual encounter when I nearly died having my tonsils out five years later, or the safe haven church provided in a world of peers who treated me as if I was totally weird … something planted a deep, unshakeable faith in the very depths of my being. I see very, very clearly that life is every bit as absurd as the post-World War II existentialists said it is. And yet there is profound wonder and deep joy as near at hand as the birth of a child, the marriage of friends, the life-gift of a soldier, the wisdom of an elder. Then, too, there is the unfathomable taste of good dark chocolate, the wafting scent of lilacs or a salty ocean breeze, the utterly surprising sound of Susan Boyle dreaming a dream, the light touch of my little dog’s whiskers waking me from a nap. Every “Yes” says “No” to the dark, to absurdity, to negation. Even to accept a HIT is to make a tiny connection with someone else’s need and my own randomly creative, inner strength. The peace makers and healers are my heroes. No one would fault them if they stopped in their tracks, went home, rested. But no. Nelson Mandela, Desmund Tutu, Elie Wiesel, Jimmy Carter – these elders of our world – I love them dearly. The physician in Camus’ The Plague is my model – one who simply would not stop when need was great and hope nearly drained of any hope at all. In their resounding voices and actions I am drawn again to the gifts of life, of goodness and of souls alive with warmth and comfort.

Hello, my name is Cla and the first time I hade sex was when I was 12 years old back in January. It was a weekend and my parents were away that evening as they had to attend the wedding anniversarry of one of their friends. Anyway, I was crazy about this guy named Dar who lived next door. We knew each other in school and he was a few months older than me. We were classmates and next-door neighbors but he does not know that I have a major crush on him. So I invited him over that evening to watch some DVDs. We were in my room just watching and then he asked me if I felt something about him. I can’t answer back because he might laugh if I said yes and it was too embarassing. But then he told me that he loved me and then my heart just beat like hell. Then I told him that I loved him too. I gave him a kiss and then he asked me if I wanted to make-out so I said yes. We started making out on my bed and before I knew it our clothes were off except for our underwear. He then asked me if I wanted to have sex because I could change my mind after we were done having foreplay.

I remember the hot summer of 1976 17 years of age at college doing a course in catering. Got the chance to work at Margate for the summer so i packed a small case boarded a train and took off for the summer. I arrived at the hotel i was to work and was put into a nice guest room, i thought to myself will i stick this out.The next morning i met the head of the housekeeping who showed me the job i was to do. It involved making the guests their morning tea and taking to their rooms and then i had my floor which i had to clean. The hotel was filthy so i rolled my sleeves up and got stuck in, at the end of the week my work was praised. The summer that year was fabulous and after my shift in the morning i would take myself off to the beach to do some sunbathing, the hotel was on the sea front so it was a 2 minute walk. My meals were provided and at six pm in the evening would have my meal then i would talk to Jean, she was an elderly lady of about 58 and was so nice she did take me under her wing and i got on well with Jean. Another girl Susan came to work at the hotel and we made friends.We would go on the fair which was in margate permanently, we did have some fun. For one week in August my parents came to margate (i think they were worried), and stayed once they could see i was doing alright i think they felt happier. It is one summer i shall never forget, in September i returned to my home town to finish my studies at college. They were sorry to see me go i was sorry to.

I have no income of my own right now. Zip, nada, zilch. But if I get a better digital camera than the one I have now, I will be able to take macro shots of my crafting work and maybe sell some of it online. I am slowly working my way toward that goal, pennies at a time, and I love it! I like to make stuff, and I want to teach others how. If I can take clear shots of my work processes, it’ll be a lot easier to show people what to do via the web. Someday I’ll have a crafting blog with clear pictures. Our family budget cannot justify the expense of a really good camera in these times, so thanks to the Turk, I’ve found a way to do it on my own in my spare time. Someday I hope I’ll be writing crafting books for pay, but I need to find out if I’ve got the chops to be a good author and designer, and if people will want to make the things that I design. The blog will be my starting point on that journey. I’m a high school dropout with a GED, so sometimes the thought of being an author intimidates me. I’m trying out some of the hits that involve writing because I enjoy them, and I need the practice to make up for the lack of a college education. I’m in my mid-forties with no money for school. I usually do an adequate job of writing, but still lack the confidence to call myself a writer. One day at a time. One penny at time.

Initially i don’t know about this work. My friend said everything but i am not impressed because they are many spam and frauds are their on internet. I estimated mturk as like that. But after two months i saw cheque of mturk by which i was shocked and showed some interest. I worked hard to know the work. I went to friend daily for 10days and learnt the process. When I started to do this work initially the work used to be rejected a lot. I was vexed and thought to stop at some point of time. Later I got assistant from requesters as well as Amazon administrators. But no one believes it because they can’t help me to the work. Let me explain you clearly. When the hit submitted by me used to reject, along with that they gives comment why it was rejected. I rectified it, noticed where I was committing mistake. Beyond that if do the work with commitment they used to pay bonus for some type of work. Yes really it helps me a lot in my finance with which I am leading a good life. That means it gives a good support for me. Now I am very comfortable with mturk work as well as giving solutions to my requesters. And also some tasks are allotted to me. Now I recollected those days with present days how my work has been changed and leading a comfortable life satisfying myself as well as work assigners. Really I thank mturk for providing such a great service.

I call mechanical turk my low paying great job. With other income diminishing to near zero I sit aside time each day for this duty. My commute costs nothing, clothing is optional, the office mates are great, I even sleep with them. Perfect hours, what more can I say? I love it. I prefer working late at night when it’s quiet, sometimes with music on., sometimes the news channels on TV. I sit a goal for a certain number of hits or amount of time and work it like a job. The pay comes quickly, it’s easy to transfer into my checking account. Data entry for items like rugs, postcards, business cards are my favorites, then surveys and the occasional grading transcription. I like that you select what you will work on and can return one if it ends up not being to your liking. Finding this was a surprise, I rarely read the pop up stories when reading email, but this was in an article about things to do if you were desperate for money. This was about the only thing I hadn’t already done! It’s easier than a garage sale, quieter than a roommate, better than selling the last of my jewelry. It really is my low paying great job! I love it and hope to continue doing it even when (not if) my finances pick back up.