Author Archives

Joan Sharpe McCullough is a freelance writer, photographer, and a public educator. She's a published author with new projects on the horizon. A mother, relative, and friend, she's an avid writer with a passion for video, photography and social media marketing. Please subscribe to this blog to get regular updates! Follow Joan on Twitter @jovan367

  • If You Build It, They Will Come

    Welcome to Our New Home! Well readers, it’s time for Social Juggernaut to move to a self-hosted site! In the essence of growth and development, I’ve decided that it’s time to become a serious blogger. I have already migrated your… Read More ›

  • We’re Moving!

    Well readers, it’s time for Social Juggernaut to move to a self-hosted site! In the essence of growth and development, I’ve decided that it’s time to become a serious blogger. I have already migrated your subscriptions (email subscribers) to The Social Juggernaut. Social media followers will continue to see new posts as always. Soon, I will redirect all traffic from this blog to the new one. Meanwhile you are more than welcome to go ahead and look around!

  • Apple Finally Put Siri Where It Belongs — Tech – TIME

    Many aspects of my life are neat and organized. My computer is not one of them. I rarely purge my system of old files and photos. I forget to uninstall software I don’t need anymore. My desktop is a mess… Read More ›

  • Fatherless Daughters: What Men Look for in Women

    Fatherless daughters fight an uphill battle for position among women who have loving histories with their fathers. Those fortunate women are seemingly more able to submit in relationships. They know exactly what types of relationships are healthy and what types are not. In fact, they are less likely to settle into relationships that do not mirror the love and caring shown to them by their own fathers during early childhood.

  • What Men Look for in Women: The Plight of Fatherless Daughters

    Fatherless daughters fight an uphill battle for position among women who have loving histories with their fathers. Those fortunate women are seemingly more able to submit in relationships. They know exactly what types of relationships are healthy and what types are not. In fact, they are less likely to settle into relationships that do not mirror the love and caring shown to them by their own fathers during early childhood.

  • Life

    Life is a long time to serve in jail… SouthernMomJD Did I just hear what I think I heard? That couldn’t be!  As I sat there with my eyes glued on the clerk I tried to maintain my composure.  … Read More ›

  • Get Out of Your Own Way: Closing the Diversity Gap in EdTech

    I just sat down at the Blogger’s cafe´at ISTE 2016 amongst some common Twitter acquaintances known as the #Educolor movement. Their mission is to close the diversity gap in Educational Technology by raising awareness across the country. — Joan McCullough (@Jovan367) June… Read More ›

  • 10 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Younger Self

    We all look back at our younger selves and sometimes cringe at some of the choices we’ve made. If I could write myself a letter and mail it back in time I would. There would be 10 things I’d love to say to myself:

  • Burying Your Parents? Goodbye Normalcy

    We are getting older now, and my friends have begun to bury their parents. Without making the grave mistake of telling them “I know how you feel,” I try to offer support in every way I can. There’s very little I can do really, and I know it. No magic words or no gift of any sort can even begin to scratch the surface. It’s like I’m the woman in the long black trench coat standing in the far corner of the graveyard during a burial, looking on as the survivors slowly crossover into “my world”.

  • Burying Your Parents? Kiss Normalcy Goodbye

    We are getting older now, and my friends have begun to bury their parents. Without making the grave mistake of telling them “I know how you feel,” I try to offer support in every way I can. There’s very little I can do really, and I know it. No magic words or no gift of any sort can even begin to scratch the surface. It’s like I’m the woman in the long black trench coat standing in the far corner of the graveyard during a burial, looking on as the survivors slowly crossover into “my world”.