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Kathryn Goodson
@kpgoodson313
Joined August 2011
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This looks crazy but trust me – it’s genius 👍
Animal Mobility - which one are you trying first?😋
Forearms exercises
🔥 Tone Your Upper Body — Arms, Chest, Shoulders & Back with Dumbbells
Small adjustments that make all the difference in your results
At 17, Dawn Loggins came home from a summer program and discovered her family was gone.
No note.
No warning.
No home.
Months later, she received an acceptance letter from Harvard.
This is her story.
Dawn grew up in rural North Carolina in a house without electricity or running water.
When the family needed water, she and her brother walked to a public park and filled jugs from the bathroom faucets.
Showers were rare.
Classmates called her dirty.
She kept showing up to school.
Her parents moved constantly.
Eviction after eviction.
New town.
New school.
By age 17, Dawn had attended four different high schools and missed nearly an entire year of education.
Most students would have fallen behind.
Dawn excelled.
When she arrived at Burns High School in 2010, guidance counselor Robyn Putnam immediately saw something special.
Dawn enrolled in makeup courses.
Studied before sunset because there were no lights at home.
Took AP classes.
Earned straight A's.
Joined clubs.
Then led them.
Photography Club.
Rock Climbing Club.
Spanish Club.
President of all three.
That summer she earned a place at the prestigious Governor's School of North Carolina.
Teachers helped buy her clothes.
Putnam drove her 200 miles to the program.
Nobody knew where Dawn would be living when it ended.
The concern turned out to be justified.
Near the end of the program, Dawn tried calling home.
The number was disconnected.
When she returned, the house was empty.
Her parents had moved away.
She was 17 years old.
Homeless.
Alone.
Most people would have stopped there.
Dawn didn't.
She couch-surfed.
Carried toiletries in her backpack because she never knew where her next shower would come from.
And every morning at 6 a.m., she went to work.
As a school custodian.
She swept hallways.
Cleaned classrooms.
Scrubbed desks.
Then sat down and earned straight A's.
By graduation year, she had:
• Straight A grades
• AP courses
• Leadership roles in three clubs
• A part-time job before school every morning
Then a teacher made one suggestion:
Apply to Harvard.
Dawn laughed.
Then thought:
"Why not?"
She became the first student in Burns High School history to apply.
Months later, an envelope arrived.
Harvard College.
Accepted.
Full tuition.
Full room and board.
Everything covered.
On graduation day in 2012, when her name was announced, the entire gymnasium stood and applauded.
Teachers cried.
Students cheered.
The girl who cleaned their hallways before sunrise was heading to Harvard.
When asked about her parents, Dawn didn't speak with anger.
She simply said:
"I love my parents. I disagree with the choices they've made."
Then she added something even more powerful:
"If I had not had those experiences, I wouldn't be such a strong-willed or determined person."
Burns High School had over 1,000 students.
Dawn Loggins became the first ever accepted to Harvard.
Proof that the circumstances you're born into are not the same thing as the future you're capable of building.
She was twenty-four years old, four months pregnant, and sitting at a yellow Formica table in a small house in Mount Vernon, New York.
It was 1951. She had $2,000 in wedding gift money. And she was about to do something no woman in her world had ever done.
Her name was Lillian Menasche, and she had already survived more than most people ever will.
She was born in Leipzig, Germany, in 1927, into a warm, prosperous Jewish family — dinner parties, laughter, a father with a successful business. Then the Nazis came to power, and everything her family had built was taken from them. Their home was confiscated. Her brother was beaten in the street. The family packed what they could carry and fled — first to Amsterdam, then across the ocean to New York City. Lillian was ten years old.
She arrived in a new country with a new language and no roadmap.
She grew up, attended NYU, married, moved to Westchester. Her brother Fred, who had found his own footing in America, enlisted in the U.S. Army. He was killed at Normandy in 1944.
Grief, for some people, closes doors. For Lillian, it seems to have opened them.
She looked at that $2,000 on the kitchen table and made a decision — not an impulsive one, but a calculated one. She would spend $495, nearly a quarter of everything she had, on a single advertisement in Seventeen magazine. The ad offered personalized, monogrammed leather handbags for $2.99 and matching belts for $1.99. Her father, now in the leather goods business in America, would manufacture them. She would hand-emboss every monogram, pack every order, and type every mailing label herself — two fingers on the keys.
She had thought it through carefully. She understood what women were buying. She understood that a personalized product offered something a generic one never could. She understood the price point. This wasn't a gamble — it was a calculated bet made by a woman who had learned, young and at enormous cost, that quiet preparation and real courage are the very same thing.
The orders came back. Thirty-two thousand dollars' worth.
She kept going.
Handbags became a catalog. The catalog became a direct-mail company. She named it by taking Vernon from Mount Vernon and keeping Lillian for herself — a small, permanent signature on everything she built.
Through decades of work, through the particular difficulty of running a business while raising children in an era that rarely celebrated a woman doing either, she kept building. She made decisions that worked and decisions that didn't, and she always went back to the catalog.
In 1987 — thirty-six years after that first kitchen-table ad — the Lillian Vernon Corporation went public on the American Stock Exchange, making her the first woman to found and take public a company on that exchange. At its peak, her company generated nearly $300 million in annual revenue. Millions of American households received that catalog. Millions of personalized orders went out — the same instinct from the kitchen table, now filling warehouses across three states.
She sold the company in 2003. She was seventy-six years old.
She died in Manhattan in December 2015, at eighty-eight.
That yellow Formica kitchen table — the one where she made the decision — is now in the permanent collection of the Smithsonian Institution.
A refugee girl from Leipzig. A young pregnant woman with $2,000 and a clear-eyed idea. The first woman to found and take public a company on the American Stock Exchange.
She had arrived in America with almost nothing, except the belief that this country deserved her absolute best.
She spent the next seventy-eight years proving she was right.
Bravo…let’s leave no child behind in this effort for generational transformation
.@FLOTUS: For the first time, children in foster care will have access to a dedicated savings and investment vehicle — Fostering the Future Accounts — giving foster children the same chance for asset ownership and long-term wealth building as every other American child.
AI in space. Chinese are building them on the ocean floor to reduce the energy cost and help with cooling…
Okay this is genuinely insane.
SpaceX just unveiled a satellite whose only job is to run AI. Not internet. Not GPS. Just compute, floating in orbit.
It's called AI1, and the reason behind it breaks your brain.
AI data centers on Earth are hitting a wall, not a chip wall, a physics wall.
They need staggering amounts of power and water just to stay cool, and we're running out of grid and land to build them.
So Musk's answer is: stop building them on Earth.
In orbit, the sun never sets. Free power, 24/7. No water for cooling, you just radiate heat into the vacuum of space. The two things choking AI on the ground barely exist up there.
And here's the wild part: Musk says it's easier to build than a Starlink satellite. Strip out the complex antennas and it's "a lot of solar cells, a radiator, and some laser links."
One AI1 carries the compute of an Nvidia GB300 rack, the same hardware data centers fight over down here.
AI1 is just the first one. The plan is a constellation of up to a million of them.
And the timing isn't an accident, SpaceX goes public this week at a ~$1.75 trillion target. This isn't a rocket company anymore. It's positioning itself as the power grid for AI, in space.
The race for AI compute just left the planet. Literally.
@SpaceX
Nailed it!
Congressman Brandon Gill says diversity is not helping America, it’s destroying us
“The melting pot simply isn't melting. That's a problem. The foreign-born population is about as high as it's ever been in American history. What is the purpose of an immigration system? The purpose of our immigration system is to benefit our people.
Historically, American immigration was predicated on two key ideas. One of those was you cannot be what's called a public burden. In other words, you can't come into the country and immediately hop on welfare and expect the American people to pay for your food and your housing, your healthcare and everything else.
The second was a concept of cultural assimilation. You were expected to come into the United the United States and to become fully American, not a hyphenated American, you're expected to adopt our customs, our core beliefs, revere our heritage just like we do.
Part of the rationale behind drastically reducing legal immigration as well as illegal immigration is allow that assimilation to actually occur, for people to actually melt and recohere as an American society.”
Around 53% of households headed by foreign-born immigrants use at least one major means-tested welfare program
I saw some data that showed 70% of Mexicans that come to America are on welfare, I made a post about it previously
No immigrant should ever qualify for any welfare programs. They should be for American citizens and American taxpayers only
❤️❤️🤗
This is how the Japanese raise their children: the secret behind a generation of geniuses.
While in many countries intelligence is rewarded with medals, in Japan discipline, humility, and constant effort are rewarded.
From an early age, Japanese children learn a powerful truth: talent without hard work is worthless, and true brilliance is born from consistency.
Over there, it is not unusual to see a six-year-old child going to school alone, crossing streets, taking trains… because from the very beginning they are taught to be responsible, courageous, and self-sufficient.
It is not about overprotecting them, but about preparing them for life. Japanese parents do not do homework for their children, nor do they make excuses for them… they guide them, but teach them that the journey is theirs.
Japanese students clean their own classrooms, sweep the hallways, and wash the bathrooms. In many elementary schools there is no cleaning staff.
Why?
Because educating does not simply mean filling the mind with information, but shaping character, humility, and respect.
Children are not seen as kings, but as part of a community. And this gives them a unique strength.
Japanese brilliance is not luck or genetics. It is culture, values, and well-directed effort from childhood.
Do you want a brilliant child?
Teach them more than mathematics.
Teach them to be disciplined, patient, and curious.
Do not protect them from failure: let them learn from it.
Because, in the end, it is not only about raising intelligent children… but about shaping human beings who shine with their own light.
— Adrian Năstase
This is biblical.
A woman in her eighties. Ten years into Alzheimer's. Hadn't spoken a full sentence in five years.
Takes one, 5 gram dose of psilocybin.
She slept 19 hours and woke up and spoke for hours about her life, recognized family and held real conversations. She regained bladder control after five years, walked on her own. and dressed herself. Gains held for weeks.
🚨WATCH: @WesleyHuntTX tells Alveda King he believes he's living her uncle's dream, saying he's judged "not by the color of my skin," but "by the content of my character."
On an afternoon in 1953, she packed two suitcases, put her children in the car, and drove away from his life. Picasso shouted after her, mocking her with the claim that no one leaves a man like him, believing she would eventually crawl back once she realized the world didn’t care about a woman without his shadow to protect her.
He was wrong. Françoise Gilot didn’t just leave a relationship; she reclaimed a life that had been sidelined by a giant’s ego, and in doing so, she became the only woman in history to survive Picasso with her spirit and her art fully intact.
While the rest of the world looked at Pablo Picasso as an untouchable god of art, she looked at him and saw a man who wanted to own her soul.
Their story began in occupied Paris in 1943. She was a twenty-one-year-old artist with a bright future, and he was sixty-one, a legend who thrived on chaos. For ten years, Gilot lived in the eye of the storm.
She was his muse, his partner, and the mother of his children, Claude and Paloma. But being a muse often meant being a victim of his legendary cruelty and his need for total emotional dominance. Picasso famously treated women like “goddesses or doormats,” and he expected Gilot to eventually become the latter.
He dismissed her painting, tested her patience, and tried to shrink her world down to only him.
Yet, Gilot possessed a core of steel.
She continued to paint every single day, refusing to let her own creative voice be silenced by the thunder of his fame. She watched as the women who came before her crumbled into madness or despair, and she realized that if she stayed, her own light would eventually go out too.
When she finally walked out, she wasn’t just leaving a man; she was breaking a curse.
Picasso spent years trying to destroy her reputation and her career out of spite. He even tried to block the publication of her memoir, “Life with Picasso,” in the 1960s, but she fought him in court and won. Her life after Picasso wasn’t a footnote; it was a masterpiece of its own.
She moved to America, married the legendary scientist Jonas Salk, and saw her own paintings hung in the world’s most prestigious museums, including the Met and MoMA. She lived to be 101 years old, proving that the best revenge is a life lived beautifully and independently.
When she passed away in 2023, she wasn’t remembered merely as a former lover of a famous man, but as a titan who refused to let anyone else hold the brush to her life’s story.
The story of Françoise Gilot is a loud, ringing anthem for every woman who has ever felt her own light dimming to make room for someone else’s ego.
She understood a fundamental truth that many spend a lifetime trying to learn: your potential is not a sacrifice to be offered up for someone else’s greatness.
For many women, the "shadow" isn't always a famous painter; sometimes it is a workplace that overlooks their talent, a relationship that demands they play small, or a cultural expectation that they should prioritize everyone’s dreams except their own. Gilot’s life proves that you can be a mother, a creator, and a partner without losing the core of who you are.
She refused to let her role as a mother to Claude and Paloma be an excuse to stop painting, and she refused to let Picasso’s international fame be a reason to stop seeking her own.
She didn't wait for permission to be great; she simply got to work.
When she eventually married Jonas Salk, the man who saved millions from polio, she did so as an equal, a woman who had already validated her own existence.
When she walked out of that villa, she wasn't just walking away from Picasso; she was walking toward herself.
In 1992, a 32-year-old historian became Prime Minister of Estonia.
He had read exactly one book on economics: Milton Friedman's Free to Choose.
He used it as a policy manual. Western advisors and Estonian economists told him it would fail. 🧵
15 THINGS THAT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE IF YOU START THEM IN JUNE 🧵
1. Deep clean your bedroom until it looks sterile like a hotel.
Of the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence, Abraham Clark may have paid the highest personal price. Almost nobody knows his story. Buckle up.
He was a New Jersey farm kid considered too frail for farm work, so he taught himself math, then surveying, then law. He never got rich from it because he kept defending poor farmers who could not pay him. His neighbors called him "the Poor Man's Counselor."
In the early hours of July 4, 1776, while Congress debated independence in Philadelphia, Clark wrote a letter to a friend with one of the most chilling lines of the Revolution: "Perhaps our Congress will be exalted on a high gallows."
He signed anyway.
Then the British made it personal. Two of his sons were officers in the Continental Army, and both were captured. They were thrown onto the prison ship Jersey in New York Harbor, the deadliest place of the entire war. More Americans died on British prison ships than in every battle of the Revolution combined.
One son got it even worse. He was locked in the dungeon and given no food except what other starving prisoners could push through the keyhole of his cell.
The British reportedly offered Clark a deal: renounce the Declaration, switch sides, and your boys go free.
He refused.
Here is the part that breaks me. Clark sat in Congress through all of it and never once brought it up. No special pleading, no favors. Congress only found out through other channels and threatened retaliation against a British officer, which finally got his son out of the dungeon.
After the war, he kept choosing the little guy. He fought for debt relief for struggling farmers and refused to support the Constitution until he was assured a Bill of Rights would protect ordinary citizens.
In September 1794, at age 68, the self-taught surveyor who outlasted the British Empire died of sunstroke after a long day working on his own farm.
No statue on the National Mall. No musical. Just a small town in New Jersey called Clark, and most people who drive through it have no idea why.
Some men signed the Declaration with ink. Abraham Clark signed it with his sons.
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