tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912479146553801922024-03-12T18:53:06.503-07:00And, today what I have to say is...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-3966604282967608882014-08-13T07:08:00.001-07:002014-08-13T07:12:49.999-07:00The lovers need to be loved.As humans, we all have that undying need to have love, be loved, and give love. It is a need like no other. It is something that differs in necessity for us all, and yet we all need it. It is inborn. Some give love. Some show it outwardly in the form of gestures, hugs, kisses, complements, and the like. Some present it in the form of laughter and kindness, as the late Robin Williams did. Some feel uncomfortable showing love, even if they want to. Some do not. Many of my best friends feel allergic to hugging, and I find that hilarious, and I respect that entirely. We all have our own distinct patterns of showing each other we care, and in turn, we have our own requirements on how much we desire in return. There are different methods. It doesn't fit a mold.<br />
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And, haven't we all known that happy, funny, loving, and caring person, the one who always lifts us, makes us feel joy, and who seems to always be on top? The hugger, the lover, the laugher, the caller, the inquirer, the strong one. There are so many types of this particular person. There are so many people who take it upon themselves to fill voids, to hug when hugs need to be given, and who make jokes to turn frowns and sad feeling into laughter... into forgetfulness.<br />
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But, isn't it that same sweet, kind, fun-loving individual who seems so full of love who is always seeing the dark side in order to turn it into light? Isn't that same kind person thinking of your sadness as they are turning it into happiness, even for a brief moment? Wouldn't it make sense that those who need love the most, give it the most? Or maybe it is the people who hide their grief the most, who need to be shown more?<br />
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Either way, I wish people showed each other their love more. I mean, I wish they REALLY showed it. Don't get me wrong, I know some people have a really hard time with overt expressions. I get it. But, I think about the people I have lost. I think about how I wish I had spoken to them, called them...just one. more. time. I wish I had wrapped my love around those people.<br />
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And, even more importantly, what about the people who envelope their sadness, overtly giving love, and inwardly wishing someone would make them laugh, give them a hug, tell them "I love you"? I wonder just how many people are out there who really need love... I am sure someone would give them love, but they won't ask. They just will not. <br />
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As for myself, I do love outwardly. I hug. I tell people I love them regularly. I am happy, and I joke and laugh A LOT (sometimes too much). I love to make the people around me feel good, welcome, loved, happy, and show people how much I care. Most of the time I am genuinely happy and am sufficed by giving. BUT....I also experience pain. I don't regularly show it. In fact, I try to hide it most of the time. I think people forget about those of us who don't show our sadness or needs. Having endurance, that strength I give to others, is sometimes exhausting. And, if I do (which isn't often) get sad and need someone to show me kindness, I SHALL NOT ASK FOR IT (Insert giggle here).<br />
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Having said that, I wouldn't change that I love a lot. I want to. I love the way it makes me feel to love. It is just I wish that as a society, we all loved a lot... I wish we told each other more when we needed love. I wish I was better at knowing when and what. I wish it was okay to ask for love and then receive it. I imagine people who are extremely depressed to be salvageable by the love of others.<br />
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I see the publicized suicidal deaths of celebrities, which is just a representation of a larger population in ways... and I wonder... If that person had just SEEN...JUST SEEN this outpouring of love of them prior to them taking their lives, would they have even considered it. I think love eases pain. Laughter IS the best medicine, after all ;) Seriously though, we should all show..in our own ways of course, the love we know we should to the people we know we should. Does that make sense?<br />
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Life and time here are short. <br />
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But all-in-all, I think you get my point... We get firm, rigid. We don't do what we should all the time, and we don't think about the invisible needs of others...others that we adore but just don't consider. I know I don't always do what I should OR even recognize that which I would if I JUST put some thought into it. So, in the memory of Robin Williams, his laughter, kindness, and even his sadness...And, for all the silent sufferers out there...Go hug someone, brighten someones day, or tell them how much you love them. Give something to someone in your own way. You never know how much they might need it. It IS the small things that add to be big things!!<br />
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XOXO<br />
LOVE Y'ALL<br />
<br /><!--3--><!--3-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-72018487926207585272013-07-23T07:54:00.000-07:002013-07-23T08:31:52.855-07:00Rage against the dying of the lightEvery morning I start my day off with a Facebook scroll down. I look to see who is saying what, doing what, to laugh, and to think. I went outside to breathe after several mornings of race-related, borderline hate-based, postings from people of all genres, colors, shapes, and genders (all a product of reactions of recent events). For some reason, I thought about Dylan Thomas's famous poetry and line stating, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light", and whilst I have always thought of this line as a fight in life in general, this morning I saw it a little differently.<br />
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Shouldn't we "rage against the dying of the light" in different ways than just in generality? and not just against death? Maybe, just maybe, the light is love, caring, peace, hope, and maybe there are really worse things than death. Is death what we should rage against? Or, is raging an oxymoron, because maybe it is the antecedent of rage to be in the "light"?</div>
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I think hate is worse than death. I think breeding vengeance is worse than death. I think making yourself above others of any race, creed, age, gender, body type, religion (or non-religion), just because you feel entitled is worse than death. I think harboring meanness and teaching our innocent youth to discriminate is worse than death. All those aforementioned seem awful dark to me. And yet, there is such a fine distinction here.</div>
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What we say with our words can effect so much, and yet so many fail to realize. Teach history to teach others what we did right and to not repeat what we did wrong, even if that history is 5 minutes ago. Teach love and non-discrimination, not perpetuate that which we know wrongfully exists and for most of us are completely disgusted with. Do not belittle in the face of anger. Try to make others see that we are more alike than we are different. Try to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, even when your shoes are dirty and wet. Remember, a vast majority of us have feet.</div>
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I am saddened when steps are taken backwards in my own personal "rage against the light" and attempts to share it, because in this case my rage is not rage at all...but love. I want to tell all my friends and neighbors of all kinds that I love them, because they, too, are worthy of love. I want to tell anyone who feels that they have been wronged as a people or a kind that I am sorry for the rage of a different sort and by a different type of person. There is evil in this world, and most likely there always will be. So, let's "rage against the dying of the light", let's rage in love and companionship, and maybe that evil won't be so perpetual and deep-stricken. Have hope. Have peace. Have love...and be indiscriminate.</div>
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"Do not go gentle into that good night" ~ Dylan Thomas</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-9596359617371592532012-03-03T09:35:00.001-08:002012-03-03T09:38:02.583-08:00The good ol' benefit of the doubtI've probably posted about this before. It is something I just cannot wrap my brain around...<br />
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Why on Earth can human beings not understand that respect (and perhaps -gasp- love) is a commonality that we should and can share even in times of disagreement. Whether it be questions or opinions, matters of the heart, soul, mind, religion, education, race/ethnicity, or political ideologies, WHY can we not respect a decent conversation, an individual, and a thought that opposes our own? Please excuse this trite question: Who is more of a successor: the holistic communicator, the vocal recluse, or the communication dictator? Duh.<br />
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There is no doubt that each personality has certain strong feelings towards at least one concept/basis in their livelihoods. It is what I would consider "normal' to have a strong discretion(s) towards a particular matter or situation at some given point... But WHY, why, must we push, disrespect, and downgrade those who do not agree, do not fit our molds, and who show, verbalize, or even seem to not feel as we do? It would be matter-of-factly ignorant to think that everyone is going to fit into our own personal conceptual system. It would be factitious to assume that those worthy of dignity must only come from this small pool that we consider to fit a standard.<br />
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Do those who consider themselves "right" (whether it be morally, or politically, or what-have-you) FEEL that they have some sort of authority to make those decisions and stances? What makes one better than another? Cannot love and disagreement go together? The answer: Of course it can. We disagree with all of our family members, our friends, and any other persons who come into our lives at some point, whether we realize it or not, and yet in certain instances we attempt to find a compromise, attempt to listen, and agree to disagree..<br />
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Why does this stop at certain points and within certain cases that we deem fit? Shouldn't this be a universal idealism (except in extreme situations)? Perhaps that is the issue, maybe we find extremism in places we should not? What happened to the good ol' benefit of the doubt? Personally, I have learned more from those whom I disagree with than from any person(s) that I see eye-to-eye with.<br />
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Value respect, show respect, and give respect, and I'm pretty sure it'll come right back at cha'. Disrespect others, put down their mental systems, and hit hard below the belt, and you'll find yourself having a very sore spot yourself.<br />
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(I'm done) :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-6418997090847391252011-07-08T09:17:00.000-07:002011-07-08T09:19:10.026-07:00The grass is greener on the other side until I step over the fence and look back the other direction.I was just thinking today about how much friendship dynamics change as our lives do. I miss hanging out for hours and hours laughing and goofing off..with what seemed like not a care in the world. I still have fantastic friends. The ones that still remain are very high quality. I know if I really need someone, I have friends to turn to. But, I do miss the days before full-time jobs, children, and responsibilities. It seems these "grown-up" changes made the endless hours with friends seem almost like a task rather than a pleasure.<br />
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I miss my time to hang out wherever and whenever, but I am so busy with kids, and cleaning, and chores, activities, and all the "things" that I have to do that it just exhausts me. I miss sitting on my couch alone with my best friend talking about all we have going on, giggling about who-knows-what, and sharing things we probably shouldn't with each other. I miss the opportunity to have meaningless fun with other people to take my brain away from everything else (without a screeching child interrupting or a spontaneous "ring around the rosy" mid-conversation").<br />
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It is just one of those trade-offs that happen in life, and it is most likely temporary. One day, I'll be wishing for this precious time back with my boys. Their youth gives me so much to do, and it limits my options on what I do and when I do it....but I still have a LOT to do. Fun things to do. I get tired... But, I get to see them grow, and change, and they are SO funny and cute. I'm sure in some-number of years, I will be whining to my girlfriend across the room that my babies are growing too fast, and I wish I could just sit at home and play with them for several more years. I'll have all the time I want for friends whenever and wherever, and I'll wish the clock would turn back... once again.<br />
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It is sort-of that "if you have curly hair you want straight, and if you have straight hair you want curly" or the "grass is greener in the other pasture" phenomenon. I tend want something different than what I have, it seems. Yet, that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the current, while I anticipate the future, and reflect on the past.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-45187771161710848172011-07-03T07:12:00.000-07:002011-07-03T07:12:34.919-07:00Today it is about venting...I love to blog, which I rarely make time to do, but today it really isn't about pleasure. It is about venting.<br />
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Haven't you ever had one of those moments where something minute and silly makes you break down, b/c you've been holding in so many concurrent emotions for so long that they all come flooding in at once? Well, this morning, I let the last surviving fish of Aden's flop down our kitchen sink drain. I was so careful. I put the drain cover in, poured the water slowly, and... all of a sudden he changed his fishy swimming course mid-pour. He jumped to the side. He landed in the sink, and when he did the sink drain pushed just enough to the side for him to slip down. (Adios, fishy).<br />
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Yes, I cried. I cried, b/c I didn't want my four-year-old son to be upset. He was still asleep, and I was going to have to tell him what happened. I cried, b/c I'm frustrated at how things are....how life is...You, know what I mean; No matter how much we try to control our environments, sometimes (most times) we just can't MAKE results. We do what we can, and we hope for the best.<br />
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I get SO tired of it. I am optimistic, really... but think everyone gets tired of it. I am exhausted with the result not being what I wanted or expected. I know I shouldn't expect, but isn't that just being human. It seems that way with every portion of life, really... Expectations either being met or being disappointed.<br />
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I need a break from it. I need to vent and cry and run away, but I don't usually. I just soak it in, over.. and over. Even in my blogs, I never go down to specifics in my personal "stuff". Not only do I not want to (who wants to put their "stuff" online), but I also don't know that I could. I hold so much in for so long that I think I could explode with "stuff".<br />
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I guess talking in circles and in non-specifics helps, but I wish I could just let it ALL out...Oh well, I know that I won't and I can't. So, I'll just dry my tears, have a root beer party (in honor of Mr. Fishy), and go about my day. I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow. I usually do.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-22247385461854835042010-12-04T04:26:00.000-08:002010-12-04T04:49:05.875-08:00Strong and not strident: Inner conflict and strength<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: red; font-size: 13.5pt;">“As a woman who was raised in a society where it is implied that women should be agreeable and amenable, where speaking up for yourself can label you 'difficult', I personally have found it difficult to do that very thing. Why is it important to have personal boundaries and make sure they are not crossed? More importantly, how can we keep them while coming off strong and not strident?” (http://goop.com/newsletter/107/en/)</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Monica Berg, a spiritual leader and writer, in the recent Goop newsletter, asked this question. In addition to her own response (see link above) stating, "Our own beliefs are only threatened when we don't know what they are,” several seemingly very intelligent and well-spoken women responded to her thought-provoking dialogue, as well. My brain turned as I pondered the different responses, which I sincerely appreciated: the importance of integrity, how we are "molded" by our environments, the successes of standing up for oneself, definitions of "strident", our fear of assertiveness and the implications of it, and just the complexity of the issue for women.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">What I find strange is that amongst all of those intelligible women's reactions, I never heard how the intriguing nature of the question itself makes us wonderful and insightful creatures? How that we, as women, are nurturers by physiology, and yet we conquer ourselves and our environments to become powerful and meaningful products of society and of the world through the exact struggle we are attempting to conquer. Our bodies and minds are developed for the purpose of caring for and nurturing others. Yet, we are thrust into a world of situations in which our nurturing instincts are challenged, we are put to tests of integrity and mindfulness, and still we hold onto that which makes us feminine and individualize our patterns and decisions. We still manage to care and nurture those whom we desire to, including ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I am proud that this question is even pondered. I am proud that a woman faces this issue. Why? Boundaries specific to our gender, and more importantly ourselves, are an important topic of discussion. We have personal boundaries and social boundaries that are individual and then we have those that are socially “mandated” to identify, define personally, define socially, and apply within a certain context. Complex? Yes, this is true (an understatement, really..haha). But, isn’t it the very complexity that we struggle with that makes us so special, that makes our struggle so unique, and that will empower us beyond the stratospheres of politics and elected roles. Isn’t it this very question that sets our facilities of communication and our desires aside from our male counterparts? Isn’t it true that we cannot know what our own beliefs are in a society if we are not knowledgeable about “society” itself? Definitions are not constant standards. They are malleable by context.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It is the search, the questions, the inner-reflection, the hope, the viability of integrity, and the mistakes that we learn from that give us our power and strength. It is the daily fight a woman has within herself and within her society that makes us so strong and promising. It is the decision to personally challenge the past and tread unknowingly through the present with our heads held high that makes us so grand. It is the choice to become and not just be that gives us our strength and helps us determine our boundaries.<o:p></o:p></span></div></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-24135623480169612192010-11-22T14:31:00.000-08:002010-11-22T14:33:49.576-08:00Aden will be 4 in less than a week...Looking back<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQFMeWmULd5TfO5yry_pg-bGvADP6eTQJIMeiNNTttCBcmkeW0JJsrSDNhfy3Er5dOrF9m9fAaMKCUfjCsiBt4stM0efyWkkzBD3KV60JzOCjiMwl1MuWLuSk09zyZDhzuHWUzzAsiV3m/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQFMeWmULd5TfO5yry_pg-bGvADP6eTQJIMeiNNTttCBcmkeW0JJsrSDNhfy3Er5dOrF9m9fAaMKCUfjCsiBt4stM0efyWkkzBD3KV60JzOCjiMwl1MuWLuSk09zyZDhzuHWUzzAsiV3m/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aden's first picture with momma</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsLWzTgg0iexFTil8FLrkvFA7nS51BtG1olWDdtnXoKmO6Mp-7QPED-JMoTiaCFbLEP8gICFtGpOviENtZCufqlFrCQbuGlt2a5Bsz75slG7-WfGgKdPwj7oiCsdNvGCWP1wwZ1ep0yvj/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsLWzTgg0iexFTil8FLrkvFA7nS51BtG1olWDdtnXoKmO6Mp-7QPED-JMoTiaCFbLEP8gICFtGpOviENtZCufqlFrCQbuGlt2a5Bsz75slG7-WfGgKdPwj7oiCsdNvGCWP1wwZ1ep0yvj/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2wks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhSEe9_k3VrEi9lZU84cNePBN_XJHYNpKeMZNVU6dk2LhK5-ZAdiiGIAgbFj8K3m2EHKGoDMhXs36rli3opGKqMjRaLhNwsfUBAEOt8HtyPzTUDrorbVcmAnAWgAvPHjN-EXkvtZVs50s/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhSEe9_k3VrEi9lZU84cNePBN_XJHYNpKeMZNVU6dk2LhK5-ZAdiiGIAgbFj8K3m2EHKGoDMhXs36rli3opGKqMjRaLhNwsfUBAEOt8HtyPzTUDrorbVcmAnAWgAvPHjN-EXkvtZVs50s/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a sweet baby</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIKo8Iy9g1Ztdcby9YkYlB9fG6Gp9TK6KtmrMKfcamWDQPnvh6d5lOPAgCZ5WvgFFhSYYYHWhzY1zthhqxtKt6oRPEOx-bpyj8CQpGdCw7Z2I-r6Fbhz4JnFYXboA55c6Rj1OeLQk8KKq/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIKo8Iy9g1Ztdcby9YkYlB9fG6Gp9TK6KtmrMKfcamWDQPnvh6d5lOPAgCZ5WvgFFhSYYYHWhzY1zthhqxtKt6oRPEOx-bpyj8CQpGdCw7Z2I-r6Fbhz4JnFYXboA55c6Rj1OeLQk8KKq/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little elf (2007)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoguzcqrl6eQAQYKRIbNyIzv4c2fwp59oy4aXuf5u9MJme-ocr4WnrfW5O19wHggvzdIsF1ngpdUrJIgL_b69dzz8-sUO-0G0b2TH6YCqKkPF1EFHvnpAp07FKwgRq-TaytXadHeJQkCv/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoguzcqrl6eQAQYKRIbNyIzv4c2fwp59oy4aXuf5u9MJme-ocr4WnrfW5O19wHggvzdIsF1ngpdUrJIgL_b69dzz8-sUO-0G0b2TH6YCqKkPF1EFHvnpAp07FKwgRq-TaytXadHeJQkCv/s320/5.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1st birthday!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq77lFhUXAWnjhsADlLu3SQKfOQAzlzoc480SkLFB0f9iCcQOxSKPlnDL2V5aTCzHEp_rC_HLmuvPBUMnbhth2TaMOCkn-ioMPgBrtEDt8-zI_r_JQZxqGrz0tgCPzFLAXQZkB1qGaofx/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq77lFhUXAWnjhsADlLu3SQKfOQAzlzoc480SkLFB0f9iCcQOxSKPlnDL2V5aTCzHEp_rC_HLmuvPBUMnbhth2TaMOCkn-ioMPgBrtEDt8-zI_r_JQZxqGrz0tgCPzFLAXQZkB1qGaofx/s320/6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always happy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLST-rur0dOLxnRtlDK_8DHWACDbIrVuvbwuxzmSDm8A7vTUwTr2Uhn_0sh8wkjW_ktybJWGCuae2WjC9pRKfTQKTqveNhdnTcS2Zyh0klKEVBtpu0NqAvfXeEVGYtmxV6BaNBiEUB77rK/s1600/7.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLST-rur0dOLxnRtlDK_8DHWACDbIrVuvbwuxzmSDm8A7vTUwTr2Uhn_0sh8wkjW_ktybJWGCuae2WjC9pRKfTQKTqveNhdnTcS2Zyh0klKEVBtpu0NqAvfXeEVGYtmxV6BaNBiEUB77rK/s320/7.5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet face, baby blues</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNSLci8jVQsx470Udg5zCG56sbR0JJ6X0j4nerddbk_nw-bcYNvwP-qP4vAZ-R_NhX5Kd9odhtaHPVzWbzHGFCRk9cZcUasrPfX713VCRvA5XkGvZEPBvAwiJGffEbigb_lNDXT4YGFrJ/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNSLci8jVQsx470Udg5zCG56sbR0JJ6X0j4nerddbk_nw-bcYNvwP-qP4vAZ-R_NhX5Kd9odhtaHPVzWbzHGFCRk9cZcUasrPfX713VCRvA5XkGvZEPBvAwiJGffEbigb_lNDXT4YGFrJ/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day before his 2nd birthday</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UrHXDhx6j26jHjhqffSN4HL9FY2GA-9dA7rOZM1dIxw_5izJs4Ogx5NvsG3KOVxDhbxHsMmlY_KIf7bqfWqiZldAZSCL0WPt22CqvvTHEolvK4YoQ-VTizyIcskE2dAK7N84Tkhbtt24/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UrHXDhx6j26jHjhqffSN4HL9FY2GA-9dA7rOZM1dIxw_5izJs4Ogx5NvsG3KOVxDhbxHsMmlY_KIf7bqfWqiZldAZSCL0WPt22CqvvTHEolvK4YoQ-VTizyIcskE2dAK7N84Tkhbtt24/s320/8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time passes so fast</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXwrVw2SiAMR2C3IGXpCEaQm_JbVgVv29oYUftnmdcEbW7Oe8ozO0WtsSE7jljt1VOazrk_vSp63Q2ucc8YnlAXDjavLiOR3p-7tk7bUpOm7nQjhRhv8pNgvQ0XVKj-xXpz6dxSHxz_JE2/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXwrVw2SiAMR2C3IGXpCEaQm_JbVgVv29oYUftnmdcEbW7Oe8ozO0WtsSE7jljt1VOazrk_vSp63Q2ucc8YnlAXDjavLiOR3p-7tk7bUpOm7nQjhRhv8pNgvQ0XVKj-xXpz6dxSHxz_JE2/s320/9.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, we call him Mr. Personality :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzcS3NBAJKvmb6AM2MijCzmhUbv4nXeH6dfg7jBS5W6hyphenhyphenySSobKXl-ozS-j_imR9oP2IETidPbYIDz1rMmSLZ_YD606I2Hd711_nUgN-8llQjqlvEjRzSnwzz4os-QPO_YCslnCKNjMql/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzcS3NBAJKvmb6AM2MijCzmhUbv4nXeH6dfg7jBS5W6hyphenhyphenySSobKXl-ozS-j_imR9oP2IETidPbYIDz1rMmSLZ_YD606I2Hd711_nUgN-8llQjqlvEjRzSnwzz4os-QPO_YCslnCKNjMql/s320/10.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And he is still as sweet as the day he was born <3</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I remember it like it was yesterday. Aden was born on November 28th, 2006 after HOURS of an epidural repeatedly wearing off and stalled labor via c-section. I remember my thoughts, hopes, dreams..and... ...misconceptions, all of it. The last 4 years with Aden have taught me a lifetime of lessons, patience, and love. He might as well have opened an entirely different universe for me. I was career-oriented, a perfectionist to say the least, and my mind set was completely different. Those mentalities prepared me for the rest of my life, but I am so happy to have become who I am because of him. I had never intended to become a stay-at-home-mother. I had intended to go back to work within months of my baby boy's arrival. But, as you can tell, life had other plans. Aden taught me a different type of appreciation, and he taught me to appreciate life's surprises. My husband talked me into having children (twice). Nope, I had NO maternal ideation...not really. I didn't have a clue what it took to raise a child, and I was horrified at the thought of being so selfless. Well, I can say that they were the two best decisions (to let go of the reins a little...or maybe a lot) that I ever made. I never in my WILDEST dreams could have imagined my life now, the fun I have had and will have, and the work and worry that is involved in raising a child. I look forward to a lifetime of work, worry, and fun surprises! Thank you for rocking my world, little man. I love you Aden Zachary, my precious boy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-8877370661058574082010-11-13T01:51:00.000-08:002010-11-13T06:29:13.832-08:00Ignorance is NOT bliss<h1 class="parseasinTitle" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ignorance may be painless and comforting to those with flightly lips, but to the world and people around the imbecility it can be quite distasteful and unpleasant. (It never ceases to amaze me.) There are two types of ignorance in my book: innocent, not-meaning-to-cause-harm ignorance...and then there is the mean, intentional, regretful, and downright plaguing ignorance that haunts mankind.</span></span></h1><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The ignorance of anyone who would go to a funeral and protest, especially a soldier's funeral, has to be an intentional and malicious stupidity. According to what other people have reported (I refuse to read media reports on this issue), recently, there has been an increase in protests at funerals for United States soldiers. How absurd! For one, no matter the feelings on war, combat, military choices, etc...protesting at a funeral only and simply makes a complete idiot of those who participate. The attention the protesters receive can NOT possibly be fruitful to their cause. I cannot imagine one empathetic, loving, and normal humane person would think that protesting at such an event would be a good idea.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This brings an entirely new definition to ignoramus. For one, the soldier's family has no control over the soldier's enlistment. They are sufferers of the deepest sort. They serve for our country, too, but without their own consent. How on EARTH can someone be so callous? It shouldn't matter the situation or cause. Protesting at someone's religious or non-religious grief-based ceremony or event should be completely federally prohibited (in my personal opinion). And, the absolute LEAST we could do for soldiers who serve our country is to protect them with law-based content and implementations, so their families may grieve without such abhorrent disruptions.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As for freedom of speech, I am ALL for it, but there are LINES that should be drawn. Do we allow students to say whatever they please in a public classroom? No. There are certain circumstances that warrant restriction for the common good. <b>There are many issues that have been protested at funerals, and I cannot think of ONE that is worthy of the protest!</b></span></span></div><h1 class="parseasinTitle" style="color: black; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></h1><h1 class="parseasinTitle" style="color: black; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">All in all, funeral-protest laws have been passed in at least 41 states, including: Alabama, Arkansas, Colorado, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, Washington, Wisconsin and Wyoming.</span></span></span></h1>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-72089375138976259812010-10-31T00:51:00.000-07:002010-10-31T00:53:41.188-07:00I have achieved a new level of awesomeness...I don't mean that I am awesome. (Although, I am not necessarily saying I am not totally awesome, either. haha). What I mean is that I FINALLY have learned a more holistic type of FUN. F-I-N-A-L-L-Y.<br />
<br />
It is a totally new level on my life reminiscent scale. It really is.<br />
<br />
I had a hard time growing up, and I was quite a stiffy at times. In case you aren't familiar with the technical term "stiffy", I am referring to my lack of ability to just let loose and be myself. I put myself into a shell. I was always trying to be perfect, and I worried about what people thought or how they might react. I was so caught up in how I would appear that I didn't <i>really </i>think about what I wanted or wanted to experience for myself. Or, maybe I <i>did </i>think about it some, but I didn't have the cohones to actually do it.<br />
<br />
I tend to try my best and be a bit of a perfectionist. The problem with perfectionism is that it is a completely flawed concept. Trying your best and expecting a lot is one thing...a wonderful insightful life approach, but being a perfectionist just leads to disappointment after disappointment.<br />
<br />
The truth is that we only have a limited time to do what we want in life. If someone asked <b>ME</b> what I want out of life, excluding the obvious firsts...<b>other people</b>...I would have to say that I want to be happy and loved. Happiness is a harder asset to come by than most people give it credit for. You can find happiness in simple things, but life in general is tough.<br />
<br />
So, what have I learned? I have learned that memories and actions like dancing madly in public, or laughing a little too loud, or singing "I Put A Spell On You" dressed like a beat up zombie character, or running through the racks at Wal-Mart playing peek-a-boo with my kids, and giving life a huge dose of zest makes me happy. It is FUN! Where o' hath thou' been, fun? (I wish I had learned to do this earlier in life, but I'm also glad that I have come to such a revelation in the present).<br />
<br />
I don't care what the "stiffies" think, and I refuse to be a stiffy. I know the ones who truly love me will love me for my fervor for life. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my life. I have bad days, we all do...but I've learned to counteract the toughness in life with something called FUN! A warning to those around me, I intend to be a total embarrassment to myself and my children for most of the remainder of my life, but yet not feel embarrassed in the slightest ;) I intend to bask in my imperfections!<br />
<br />
If you haven't acted a complete and harmless fool lately. I highly suggest that you try it!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-41602641455410217842010-09-29T17:59:00.000-07:002010-09-29T17:59:37.409-07:00I love looking back...I love looking back at my blog. It is a compilation of my thoughts...at difficult, fun, tiring, exciting, wonderful, bad, and intrigued moments. It gives me solace when things aren't going exactly right. It helps me realize that I can get through, b/c I have done it a million and one times. The good times and bad times are what make us who we are. I couldn't be me without each and every one of them. It is sort of like looking back through an old picture album and seeing what you didn't know you remembered...only in thought rather than vision. It is a different sort of retrospect that I rather enjoy and appreciate. It is easier to reflect when their is something to reflect upon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-53578892942196887622010-09-12T05:51:00.000-07:002010-09-12T05:51:56.102-07:00So, I gave her five bucks....I've often wondered if I should give people money when they come up to me asking (or begging) for it. There has been several times when I was not sure of the intention of the person asking. Are they going to use it for food or another necessity item OR is it going to be spent on drugs, alcohol, or something else I do not approve of someone spending my hard earned money on.<br />
<br />
Well, yesterday at Walmart, as I was walking to my car, I see a lady walking car to car in the parking lot. I kind of figured she wanted something, and as much as I hate to admit it, I had that "Oh, great" mentality as she slowly approached me. Now, don't get me wrong, I KNOW there are dire straights, and I am ALL for helping my fellow man (or woman), but when people ask for money, it scares me. I always wonder: Am I going to get mugged? Am I perpetuating a problem? (those sorts of questions).<br />
<br />
So, the lady walked up, not too close, but close enough to where I could get a pretty good look at her. She was worn looking, if that makes sense. I wouldn't say she was dirty or anything, but she looked tired and disheveled. She proceeded to ask me for money to put gasoline in her car. She said she was stranded without gas, and she had to make it all the way back to Durant from Denison. She wanted me to go look at her gas gauge, but I wouldn't do it. I handed her a $5 bill.<br />
<br />
Kind of instinctively I made a decision that I would have made with more thought. I told the lady that I didn't need to see her gas gauge, and honestly I didn't really care what the money was for. I told her, "If you are asking for it, then you must need it more than I do." Now, I didn't know what the woman would REALLY do with that $5, and I must have not really cared, or I wouldn't have given it to her.<br />
<br />
And, although I didn't care what she did with the money (I mean, I couldn't control what she did with it), as I turned around to finish loading my car with things I THOUGHT I needed (mostly NOT necessities), I watch as her beat up car that looks like it is on its last rope pulls into lane at the gas pump.<br />
<br />
I know I made the right decision. I don't know that lady's circumstance, her life, her reason, her problems, her thoughts. If she would have driven out of that parking lot without stopping at the pump, I would have still felt like my decision was the right one. If she had spent that money on drugs or alcohol or simply just pocketed it, I still would have made the right decision.<br />
<br />
Do you want to know why I felt like it was right either way? Because it was. I don't need that $5. I don't need that fatty Arby's meal next door. I can go without just once. People go without every day. People are mistrusted and misused every day. We do not have a magic power that tells use people's intentions, whether good or bad. Besides, good and bad is relative, isn't it? Even illicit drugs can become a life line (as much as I disapprove of addictions).<br />
<br />
Need is need is need. If I had not helped her, would anyone? How long had she been there? Those questions are not ones with REAL answers. All I KNOW are my OWN thoughts. I KNOW that I feel better not saying "no". <b>I KNOW that I feel better not knowing what she was going to do with it rather than not knowing what she would do <i>without </i>it. </b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-23071263535777683062010-08-14T04:36:00.000-07:002010-08-14T04:36:10.354-07:00And She Lived Happily Ever After: The Story of The Three Little VirtualitiesOnce upon a time (in a far, far away land...of course) there lived a young lady who was quite the inquisitive. She enjoyed talking with her friends, hiking in the woods, swimming, running, and adventure. One day she got high speed internet. <br />
<br />
This opened up a WORLD, a plethora, and immediate access to information within seconds. It was quite the adventure in itself. She researched, and studied, and taught for day upon day. Learning and growing and exhausting herself.<br />
<br />
Then, all of a sudden, she found a place...a once very magical place, called Myspace. It glittered, and it moved. It was colorful and pleasant on the eyes. It was full of life and stories and pictures of the outside world. It was simply beautiful....but there was something missing. She just couldn't put her finger on it. <br />
<br />
So soon, and with her adventuring nature, she became somewhat bored with the glitter and sparkles of this new kingdom. She searched the internet far and wide, until she came upon a more contemporary, classy, and resourceful place. It was like moving from a loud, sweet, shiny, and fast-paced carnival to a hill on the country-side with birds and a camera. Facebook, it was called. She made friends, chatted, sipped coffee, and shared her adventures. <br />
<br />
While she visited Facebook, she also happened across the land of Twitter. Twitter was simply a looking glass of sorts that allowed her to see from her pinnacle, as a pirate in a ship. But, it never gave her the wonderment and excitement that the other two places did. It was just one more place she visited on her journey.<br />
<br />
Well, for some time it was this way, she enjoyed her travels. Until, (gasp) the world of Facebook became overwhelming. It was no longer a scene of serenity, but an entire community and appropriation of meddling and association. It became a task and a chore to have to visit several times a day. Then, BOOM!! Stories, memories, and delight blew up in a cloud of notification smoke.<br />
<br />
So, she stepped away from the high speed internet and pondered reality. She looked around her room, and she didn't see glitter, or movement. She didn't see port side binoculars, and she didn't see a loud community sipping wine and eating cheese. She saw her desk, her couch, her window....THE WINDOW!!!<br />
<br />
Outside were REAL birds, and trees, and dogs, and fresh AIR! She stepped out into the sunshine and soaked it in. She stretched her arms and slowly breathed in the crispness. From that day on, she vowed to never let her adventures become virtual. She took one last glance back at the kingdom of Facebook, which held a special place in her heart, bid her new friends fair well (promising to keep in touch), and rode off into the sunset. As she ventured off, she decided that it is okay to <i>visit </i>magical places, but it isn't always best to make a permanent home there. <br />
<br />
And, she lived happily ever after. <br />
The End<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://tinypic.com/?ref=30t0u4j" target="_blank"><img alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic" border="0" src="http://i35.tinypic.com/30t0u4j.jpg" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-67867259019894334112010-07-15T12:03:00.000-07:002010-07-15T12:03:51.283-07:00Great UnexpectednessFor most of my life, I've thought that not expecting anything meant no disappointment. So, I tried to avoid expectation as much as possible (which is pretty much impossible). But, what I forgot about was the greatness that lies within expecting one thing and getting wonderful in the unexpected.<br />
<br />
I remember trying to picture my life, and seeing something COMPLETELY different than my present self. I tried to control my future. I wanted life to be a certain way with certain (what I thought to be) important elements. <br />
<br />
Well, life isn't a book or a movie. It isn't always fair, the monsters are not destroyed, the endings are not necessarily happy, and sometimes there is no rational explanation. Sometimes, the best explanation is none at all. <br />
<br />
The best thing about life is its raw realness. The possibility of everything...and nothing. I could never have imagined my life, as is. The growth and reciprocation within myself is only with retrospect of the unexpected. <br />
<br />
So now, I expect the unexpected....and I appreciate, enjoy, and love it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-34953271160344741682010-07-15T05:03:00.000-07:002010-07-15T05:05:34.444-07:00Friend or foe?Standing tall<br />
a sanctuary <br />
in shade<br />
<br />
Liquid gems shared<br />
roots run down, out, and around<br />
synchrony swayed<br />
<br />
Ivy creeps<br />
birds peep<br />
insects crawl<br />
inside it all<br />
<br />
Sunbeams of light<br />
giving hope but not sight<br />
age on call<br />
until they fall<br />
<br />
Great hands reach<br />
straightness stands<br />
self or as one?<br />
<br />
Frozen journey<br />
not at all alone<br />
characters oblivious<br />
to damage they have doneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-29285749666243315452010-06-17T04:56:00.000-07:002010-06-17T04:59:41.269-07:00Magic "Who Cares" GlassesI am SO unbelievably grateful to my true friends for their companionship. I genuinely care deeply about them, and I believe they genuinely care about me. (Sending a love shout-out to my true peeps. lol) And, a relationship that isn't reciprocated in a compatible fashion, cannot be a "true" one.<br />
<br />
I have had a hard time lately, and my true friends have asked about my health condition and me in general, been a shoulder for me to whine on, given advice to take or leave, watched my children if I needed it, and been the epitome of what friendship is: a reason to TRUST.(Thank you!)<br />
<br />
And, once again, there are ruiners in the crowd (as there is with everything, right?). I sure wish I had "Who Cares" glasses prior to finding out the "truth". It is so difficult to want someone to love or care about you that doesn't...or, to think someone IS being genuine and get slapped in the face with it. <br />
<br />
And, so...<br />
<br />
I must get over the fact that some people aren't going to genuinely care about me, lie to me (or about me), criticize me, or what-have-you. You can't wish/want or hope or be nice to someone so much that they care, and you can't change other peoples' flawed personality issues. It doesn't matter if they are "supposed" to love me.<br />
<br />
I guess I'll just keep being me. Take it or leave it. I'll feel sorry for those people who can't be genuine, who are incapable of reciprocated "true" relationships worth more than words can do justice, and who feel like they need lies to fulfill themselves. <br />
<br />
And, as far as them doing what they do/did to ME, personally...Who CARES! :) (Well, I guess I do have those glasses after all. A little different in application, but still the same result.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-20534222075767697592010-05-20T02:26:00.000-07:002010-05-21T01:41:20.115-07:00The raven versus the seagullBombarded the unconscious<br />
And stolen my dreams<br />
Taken my decisions<br />
From this repeating theme<br />
<br />
Eyelids peeled open<br />
Vision is blurred<br />
I do not wish to be<br />
Darkness's chauffeur<br />
<br />
Can you release me from your talons?<br />
Give me my babes' rest<br />
Gently lower yourself<br />
And place me in your nest<br />
<br />
Can you give me peace?<br />
Allow me my own will<br />
Shallow breath's release<br />
On morning's windowsill<br />
<br />
I do not need the worm<br />
As appetizing as it seems<br />
Take me under your wing<br />
And please give me back my dreams<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
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***4:20AM and I am so tired of insomnia.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-85789442534339425112010-05-16T06:40:00.000-07:002010-05-16T06:43:37.086-07:00R-E-S-P-E-C-TThe lesson for the day is that we CAN all get along. I really do not understand why people have to be so demanding, rude, and assertive with their belief systems (Am I beating an old horse to death?). Some of my very best friends do not agree with me on topics that we both hold dear. There is a matter of respect between individuals...lines that you do not cross.<br />
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So, if you have an opinion, belief, idea, or what-have-you, that is fine. We have all the right to those. But, if you do not want or cannot handle other people's opposing opinions/ideas, and be respectful when they do not agree (and vice versa), then simply keep it to yourself. <br />
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I cannot fathom why this is such a difficult concept. We can learn something from everyone, even if it is just that we do not agree. I mean, unless you are DIRECTLY affected by someone's input, why is it such a big deal? It is a rarity (and virtually impossible) to agree with anyone on everything.<br />
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I know that sometimes people can be eccentric, and sometimes to a point of mental instability, that is a different case. I figure the best approach to fundamentalism or dogmatism (and I'm not necessarily referring to religiosity here), is to ignore the problem, and hope to goodness that it disappears. I have no constructivism for minds who cannot show empathy, regard, respect, and tolerance. <br />
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An authoritarian perspective on life is not pleasant, and it surely will get poor results. So, why can't we all just get along?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-7916432613024238952010-04-28T18:50:00.000-07:002010-04-28T18:58:50.403-07:00Babies are NEVER "bad"....Ok, so the title is a itty bitty bit misleading. Of course, babies/children ARE in fact sometimes "bad". But, I don't think it is appropriate to tell a young child OVER and OVER and OVER that they are. I think that it should be extremely limited, and maybe even eliminated. If a young child is told that they are bad repeatedly then they BECOME that stereotype already being engraved upon them. They believe that they are...whether they are or NOT.<br />
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Research has shown this to be true. Classrooms divided into treated-like-they-will-succeed and treated-like-they-will-fail DO JUST THAT. If a child is shown the letter (A) over and over before a test, they are much more likely to make an (A). Similarly, if a child is shown (F)s over and over before a test, they are MUCH more likely to fail.<br />
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I recently had a run-in with my son's karate coach about this issue. My son is 3, and YES, he can be a handful. He doesn't have a HUGE attention span, and he definitely hasn't mastered following instructions 100% of the time. These are all pretty much standard for a 3yr old. <br />
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Now, I am ALL for discipline. I think children NEED to be molded at a young age. Otherwise, they are given a shaky foundation for life. HOWEVER, there is a difference between construction and demolition.<br />
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I cannot imagine telling young children that you are going to QUIT your job, b/c they didn't "behave" the way you wished that day. I cannot imagine telling 3 to 5 year olds that they don't deserve their participation stickers almost EVERYTIME they come to class. And mostly, I cannot FATHOM trying to teach without a TON of positive reinforcement. This person actually punished 3yr-olds as a team (In other words, if one messed up they all were punished). <br />
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Ok...so...I was accused as the PROBLEM, simply based on the fact that he has over 20-something years of experience. Well, my response to that...Years do not necessarily make a person. There are a LOT of old people in this world who do not know their head from their behinds...AND...There are a lot of really young people in this world who are wise WAY beyond their years. I don't think age/years makes a person perfect, wise, or immune to learning. If you claim years or age as a reason not to listen, learn, and grow, I would accuse the opposite.<br />
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I started realizing the effects were not just my parental imagination when Aden began dropping his head and calling himself "bad" at home, and then quoting this "coach's" descriptions of his mislabeled deviance. (It broke my heart).<br />
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Unfortunately, Aden loved going to this OVERLY PAID instruction, and I had to explain to him that it wasn't his fault. A 3yr-old cannot determine an adult's mistakes. They are taught to obey and respect, and they don't really have to ability to discern something on that level. They think if someone tells them they are bad...Then, they must be. <br />
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Needless to say, we no longer go to this coach anymore, and I will NOT go back. Why can't the world be full of nice and respectful people who want the best for everyone? Even if Aden IS bad (which is a perceptual term, and it seems that he IS in this coach's perceptions), what exactly IS bad at 3, and should we really be telling a 3 year old that over and over? <br />
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I know, I know. I ask too much :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-21875223957495294722010-04-08T19:23:00.000-07:002010-04-29T18:57:01.044-07:00Sugar and Spice Can Be Kinda NiceI suppose being female isn't ALL bad:<br />
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I mean, I will admit that I do rather enjoy choosing a style and color for my hair, the satisfaction of viewing my carefully glossed and French-manicured toes, deciding heels versus flats with my ensemble for the day, getting an occasional door opened on my behalf, and even my societal right to be an emotional wreck on occasion.<br />
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But, I do get tired of all of the hassle. I expect myself to look presentable, all whilst trying to accomplish the daily routine of woman-ness with a screaming tot. It now only takes me 30min to complete my transformation. At one time, it took at least an hour-and-a-half to prepare myself for the world. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to spend, nor do I choose to donate that much of my life to the beauty gods.<br />
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Washing, exfoliating, creams, and powders…shaving, and covering, and plucking, and modifying; it is simply exhausting. The number of steps that must occur before I exit the comfort of my humble abode is ridiculous. And, what is even more frustrating is that I then, after all my diligence, still feel completely inferior to my idolizations. <br />
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I tote. I clean. I cook. I BREATHE. I buy. I read. I learn. I cuddle. I lift. I coax. I discipline. I laugh. I watch. I listen. I give…<br />
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But…I get. <br />
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There are some traditional female complaints that do have some up-points. For instance: I did not enjoy the ails of pregnancy, but as horrible as I felt, and despite the bodily morph, I DID get to experience it. I HATE PMS with a passion, however I do get that excuse to cry and moan and whine if I need to on a monthly basis. I feel like crap about the way I have to throw myself together, but it is particularly nice when I DO have the time to make myself feel feminine. I adore being able to yackity-yack about the meaningless. I like my insecurities being filled by a warm embrace. And, more than anything, I really LOVE being a mommy.<br />
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Since I have to hide my sentiment when Bambi’s mother gets shot or when the old man in “UP” loses his lifetime partner, I cannot imagine having to be a man. I would totally suck at it. <br />
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Sure, I can put on a HARD exterior: bury pain, rough around, and let my inner masculinity shine. BUT, at the end of the day, I guess I actually like my girly hassle. I prefer my constant quests toward beautification. I enjoy hearing, “I want mommy”, after a scratched up knee. I like being the hug-giver. I do get to be the sensitive one. <br />
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I have to remind myself that it is pretty cool to be a girl. Or, maybe I'm just an optimist, and I am trying to see the glass half-full, seeing as I don't really have much of a choice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-79219434109340315212010-04-02T02:29:00.000-07:002010-04-02T02:32:27.209-07:00Don't ask, we'll ask, and don't tell, we'll tell???TALK about backtrack. I'm not usually one to offer my opinion on matters of a political nature, but I just cannot fathom being discharged from the United States Army based on sexual orientation in 2010?! <br />
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The Associated Press reports that the "don't ask don't tell" policy has been temporarily suspended. Now, I'm not much of a military gal, and I am not familiar with much associated with the military, but tell me again HOW does an openly gay person pose a threat to national security?<br />
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The Pentagon has stated that they want to "hear from gay troops" as they are conducting a current research study to determine how best to lift the ban. There is only one problem....<br />
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<b>THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT IT, OR THEY COULD BE DISMISSED! <br />
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Okay, so I'm not a genius by any means, but this seems to be a tad bit contradictory. And, to make matters worse, a senior service official interviewed 3 openly gay persons. Well, on Thursday he "thought" their was a moratorium on dismissals while these interviews were taking place....<br />
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BUT...once again...<b>OOOPsie</b>. Apparently, he had to retract that statement. There is not, nor will there ever be (according to the Defense Secretary), such a bind on dismissals for being gay. He says he won't reveal their identities or discharge them at this time...hmmm. <br />
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The official then goes on to say that he PROBABLY should have told these these 3 suckers that they were breaking the law and their conversations couldn't <i>necessarily</i> be kept confidential.<br />
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I mean, really?!! Seriously!? Some one is pulling a late April Fool's joke, right?!<br />
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Nope. Good ol' U.S. of A. (sigh). To date, about 13 THOUSAND people have been discharged under the "don't ask, don't tell" law, some ousted because of open admissions to being gay...and others when they did not make their sexuality apparent. <br />
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Maybe the Army has a reason for this law that I do not understand? I wouldn't mind an explanation, because I feel like my current opinion is that we are not as keen on humanity as I had once thought. And, regardless of WHAT the Army decides on the stupid law, shouldn't the gay people that DO keep their mouths shut (as ordered) be protected when <b> SPECIFICALLY ASKED </b>to speak?? ESPECIALLY when <i>RESEARCH </i>is involved?! <br />
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Anyone educated in the realm of research is drilled on the importance of confidentiality in studies of this nature. Why on EARTH would, in of all places, the US Army not adhere to these <b>standards</b>? GOOD grief.<br />
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And, that is all I have to say about that. (I felt a Forest Gump quotation would be quite appropriate).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-58764351992272952272010-04-01T18:53:00.000-07:002010-04-01T19:36:47.639-07:00Too close for comfortI have come to find that we all seem to have someone who we are inevitably close to, whom we must spend regular time with, and who drives us completely crazy. This might be a friend, co-worker, family member, etc. <br />
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This person <i>sometimes </i>is wrapped in a all-too-kind packaging. They seem sincere and gentile, but are hiding a secret that they might not even know that they have. This person's introduction to another is truly an unexpected "surprise": like a tornado on a sunny springtime day, poo on your shoe after walking through lush grass, or a laugh that produces cola through your nose.<br />
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Others of these sort do not hide their B.S. at all. Many times, they give a boastful distaste, hiding a smile under a frown no matter the occasion. Most of the time they are genuinely pleased by the sourness of themselves.<br />
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We often wish to confront this particular person about whatever it is that bothers us. Well, much to my expectations, these confrontations never go too productively. <br />
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Then their is you (i.e. me), who is too determined (hard-headed) to not contribute to the possible eradication of the bothersome quality or tendency. You attempt to talk openly, honestly, and respectfully to this person. You try to sneak in the negative with a sugar-coated menagerie of compliments and distractions.<br />
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So, what happens you ask? Well, one of two things: Either the sugar coating is peeled into a heap and ONLY the pursecutory nature of the discussion is completely highlighted, distracting the content into a hard-iron defense of momentous proportion. OR, the person is too oblivious to even notice the implications at all. <br />
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Personally, I prefer oblivion to the "turn-around". The turn-around is when <i>you </i>are then attacked and caught completely off-guard. The discussion is NO longer about the intended, but is now transfered into the criticization of you, leading to full-out list of all the wrongs you have personally performed for the entire duration of your lifespan.<br />
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So, what is my methodology for this sort of unresolved issue, you ask? (We all have our own techniques, please feel free to leave yours in the comment section below). It is very simple: RETREAT!! The behavior probably isn't going to change, despite any best efforts.<br />
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My personal procedure is to give them my best cheesy smiled, puppy dog-eyed face, and closed body-language stance, especially when meeting unexpectedly. I MUST groan to myself in order to eliminate some of the mental combustion. Then, I avoid them as much as possible, and I deal utterly and completely with whatever it is that drives me crazy. In other words, this is NO solution at all. I basically tuck my tail and run, leaving myself at the beginning of where I started---full circle. <br />
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So, when I get a chesire cat kind of smile, I can't help but wonder...Am <b>I</b> the ONE? And, are we ALL the <b>ONE </b>to somebody? Wouldn't that make the masses SO much easier to tolerate, if we knew with certainty that we all were that ONE? I mean, to me (and you might very appropriately refer to me as facetious), it makes having to <i>deal </i>a little easier when I know someone else has to <i>deal </i>with me :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-79078770466089709182010-03-31T09:52:00.000-07:002010-03-31T09:56:43.486-07:00Grasshoppers are NO LONGER coolAccording to the Wall Street Journal, federal officials have estimated the largest grasshopper "outbreak" since 1985 to hit the West this year. Apparently, in 85' they ate everything in sight, including "fence posts and paint off of barns"! Last summer, in Wyoming, grasshoppers ate every blade of grass on 10,000 ranch acres. They estimate about 60 grasshoppers per sq yard in the high population areas for this coming year! WHAT!? <br />
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When I was a child, I used to LOVE playing with grasshoppers. They were flighty creatures with big delightful eyes and an amazing hopping ability. I noticed that they hop 20X their body length, and I thought the "tobacco juice" they produced was quite "COOL." I enjoyed watching as well as chasing them. They made tasty treats for the catfish in my grandpa's pond. <br />
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But, as with most things as I get older, my perceptions are changing. What was curiosity with the <b>BUGS </b>has turned to distaste for them completely. Now, I tend to see these armored locusts as creepy, bulging eyed, sticky-legged, noisy nuisances that eat my precious blooming flowerbed and fly unexpected into my face or hair. They spit brown GOO out of their mouths...eww. Disgusting!!<br />
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Officially, they are NO LONGER COOL!<br />
<a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i42.tinypic.com/i1iumd.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-18910558851079091472010-02-25T09:23:00.000-08:002010-02-25T09:23:12.634-08:00I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed (THANKS Feng Shui)Well, I am in one of those moods that usually go with a horrible, no good, very bad day...But, I'm really not having a bad day...JUST A BAD MOOD. I think I woke up on the WRONG side of the bed today.<br />
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Hmmm, but then to avert my attention from my moodiness, I wonder: What does that mean? Wouldn't I have to sleep on a particular side of the bed to wake up on that side (or roll around a lot). Ramblings? Maybe, but I do have a point...a pointless point...but still a point:<br />
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Turns out, Feng Shui (which is the method the Chinese use to place harmony with things/people in their environment) in addition to psychological/physiological findings about the workings of the brain (go figure on this one) helped to establish the "wrong side of the bed bit". See, the left side of the brain is more rational/logical/analytical and the right side is more emotional/imaginative/artsy. And, in Feng Shui, the Chinese regard the left side of the brain with family/health/money/power. Therefore it is very apprehensively concluded that the LEFT side is the "right" side...hmmmm<br />
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So, yes...today (and everyday), I rose to the left. I tend to be the analytical sort. But, this doesn't really empirically back this theory that there is indeed a "wrong side of the bed", since I rose on the left and am feeling rather on the mood ENHANCED side. The LEFT side was NOT the RIGHT side today. And, since your left foot is controlled by the RIGHT side of your brain. That doesn't really fit either, now does it. According to the physical structures of the brain, a less fragile of a mood would <strong><em>actually</em></strong> start with the RIGHT FOOT FORWARD (and wouldn't matter the side of the bed).<br />
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Maybe... I should have just stayed in bed :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-11765608345079608462010-02-18T00:37:00.000-08:002010-02-18T00:38:27.644-08:00WITWC2?Ok, I am ALL for technology within reason...But, honestly, does anyone else think this is too much:<br />
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Kotaku calls it a "fast finger keyboard". <br />
I have recently stated that the iPad will probably change the world, much as the iPhone did. I am all for technology with purpose. Having instant access to the web-on-the-go changed how we accessed information and each other forever (for the good and not-so-good also, but that is another discussion). As for the iPad, Having instant access to full page periodicals all neatly delivered on a hand-held device will make reading more efficient and more practical in our now more bustled lifestyle. I'm sure there will be pros and cons (as of the time wasting potential of the iPhone), but all-in-all, I see potential.<br />
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But, really? What improvement are we making for ourselves here with a "fast finger keyboard"? Does LOL or TTYL take too much out of our fingers? WHEW, I almost broke a sweat! And, will the already formed acronyms eventually lead to young people writing IMO, yet having NO idea what the letters indicate. Well, IMO, this is a $25 waste of money. People who spend abundant hours chatting online using acronyms are probably not in need of too many millisecond time saving measures. <br />
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And, since we are on the topic...JIC, UDK how to translate an IM, FYI there is a <a href="http://www.webopedia.com/quick_ref/textmessageabbreviations.asp">TXT/IM dictionary</a> you can use. S2S there are actually 100s of them. (I wonder how many teens use an IM dictionary more than a Websters? hmm). It is just pathetic. F2F interaction is not completely outdated. WITW coming to? <br />
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Man, I'm exhausted. Hitting that shift key and only typing out letters instead of words just took it completely out of me. TAFN. L8RG8R (<em>as I pass out from pure lethargy</em>)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91247914655380192.post-90268338621331237652010-02-15T19:21:00.000-08:002010-02-15T19:21:21.362-08:00Takin' Advantage of FREEdomTo get straight to the point..<br />
Dr. McAnaney's office held a "free dental clinic" all day today. I saw this all on the 5 o'clock news. I couldn't help but laugh when the news anchor bluntly said (repeatedly), "Now, they are offering only ONE, I repeat, only ONE procedure per patient". I wonder JUST how many free-loaders went out there to get their ENTIRE mouth overhauled. <br />
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Now, this was QUITE a kind and generous gesture on behalf of Texoma Dental Care, and I am sure that it was MUCH appreciated by all that attended. But, I can't help but feel sorry for the poor suckers who worked there today.<br />
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I saw several people in line without teeth, probably hoping for FULL dental implants for free. Can you imagine the mouths that showed up, and can you imagine picking only ONE procedure to perform? lol<br />
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Well, inside those tents was probably very interesting. And,while I do NOT want to make light of people who are need of dental care or who are in desperate need of assistance, I would like to take a moment and reflect (ie. laugh) at the HUGE line of folks who were in attendance. <br />
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My imagination cannot help but to form a detailed image of complaints, halitosis, and missing tooth lispsss. And so, I would like to say that it was VERY kind for <em>Texoma Dental Care</em> to do what they did. And, on behalf of all the yuck mouths (and receptors of those mouths) who did receive some sort of treatment today (even if it were limited and incomplete), I would like to say thank you for giving to our community. We do not see such givingness everyday. It must've TRUELY been "Dentistry from the Heart".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0