tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1822708395037101872024-03-05T18:25:39.225-08:00the blog#amwriting : a passion for words and perspectives
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-85887473941189225642022-03-13T09:50:00.002-07:002022-03-13T10:56:02.756-07:00On: Question TWO <p> </p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", "serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">What
is the difference between right and wrong?</span></span></b></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Morality has some epic grey area no?!? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have memories from when I was about six;
this is when I remember sorting thorough good vs evil and right vs wrong for
the first time. I distinctly remember the feeling I had when I knew something
was wrong or unfair –it was a very sour taste in my mouth; a notable discomfort.
I actually I swore off Tom Cruise as a person based on a character he played in
a film being unfaithful to his spouse. I just couldn’t cope. (I'm still unsure if I forgave him)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", "serif"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqjEjh8zy8ZqhYCPXcVRnEj4n0LmJPaX4ZZsoPdq6TrRyILQ5I-XmfduAkVvFztTZc3txG39A5fBuyF_Jf3nJQCjdtaGDlG3YCLOYfvIDWN1wMWs-EYRuGXtuPMIfN84AKT_eMTPEyeqfaU_lNS0nXgUaGHBrwwXL2KmHVmMv9CGx_v5B6nYbHhLFlZg=s1169" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="1169" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqjEjh8zy8ZqhYCPXcVRnEj4n0LmJPaX4ZZsoPdq6TrRyILQ5I-XmfduAkVvFztTZc3txG39A5fBuyF_Jf3nJQCjdtaGDlG3YCLOYfvIDWN1wMWs-EYRuGXtuPMIfN84AKT_eMTPEyeqfaU_lNS0nXgUaGHBrwwXL2KmHVmMv9CGx_v5B6nYbHhLFlZg=w274-h166" width="274" /></a></div>The human mind is so incredible, but at the
same time it can be so immature, selfish and counter-intuitive. We’ve invented
rocket ships and have landed on the moon – a moon that we somehow knew was
there (unlike the fox or bumble bee). We’ve invented the internet and cell
phones and all sorts of institutions. But we can’t exercise loyalty or avoid
greed or manipulation. Ego damn near ends our civilization in regular
intervals. I’m baffled by our progressive yet backwards mindset. The difference
between right and wrong comes down to the individual moral breadth. We damn
well know better between right and wrong even with grey area. Social or cultural
faux pas excluded because honest mistakes will happen and helping people rise
above requires compassion, understanding and kindness. I think human beings
will always struggle when they have to weigh their own interests or those of their
children/kin versus those of the greater good. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly people can exercise free will, people
can pull themselves out of a gutter while stepping on another’s back to gain
traction. </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Doing right
isn’t always an easy or a clear path but it’s not beyond us given our extreme
potential.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://ionfire.blogspot.com/2016/07/21-questions.html" target="_blank">21 questions (2012 answers )</a> FULL BLOG<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">MY ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION 10 YEARS AGO...</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(236, 236, 236); line-height: normal;"><span style="color: #292929; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When you were little and you watched someone
kick a dog , you just knew that it was wrong. We have an intuitive sense of
fairness that we don’t always cultivate and use in our lives, but I think we
know a lot about what is right and wrong from an early age. Often times our
radar gets foggy and confused as we learn self-promotion from a variety of
examples—good and bad. I guess to sum it up, I’d say: right is doing your best
to make decisions using a moral compass that you are proud of. Wrong is usually
more selfish.</span><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="color: #292929; font-size: 15pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-76659236485968535052022-03-10T04:06:00.008-08:002022-03-13T09:17:35.598-07:00On: question ONE<p><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">Back in 2012, I answered 21 deep and random questions I found online. The plan— then</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", "serif"; font-size: 16px;">— was to </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">answer them again in 10 years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Just to preface this little social experiment, upon trying to answer said questions again, I did not read what I had written 10 years ago. Going in BLIND--social science at it finest!! Each question will get its own blog post. Not sure how, but it's 2022. SO prepare yourself for the first blog in this experiment titled - "On: Question ONE"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: times new roman, serif;">SECONDARY</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> DISCLAIMER: I care very much about reaching my potential, whatever that may be, and learning from my mistakes. So these are my most honest answers. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><p>For context, read :) <a href="http://ionfire.blogspot.com/2016/07/21-questions.html" target="_blank">On: 21 questions (blog)</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is the meaning of
life?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ok</span>,
coming in hot then? Great question albeit one of life’s mysteries. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t imagine one simple answer can solve
this query for the billions of people currently fuddling through life and the
human existence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This is a case by case thing; some people don’t care to know and some find it in religion or pain or grief. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I hope I can find the meaning of my
life before I go. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It’s 2022 and I haven’t read my response from 2012 and I’m
getting this uncomfortable feeling that I might sounder wiser back then than it will now. Meh, oh well. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I go
through phases where I think I know what the meaning of a life is (for me) …
and then I fall off a rainbow or trip into a 3-month gutter or have a
miscarriage or lose my job or feel so devastatingly homesick that I lose sight of anything
that motivates me in the world. And uh a</span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">geing</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> is a hard one too, because ten-years-ago I was an optimistic 30-year-old who didn't feel like i had more wrinkles than success.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwThqmO5ks4-hjQOwPIlP9y7tFrCCd__dCcq0K12Hq9Vvdp1Y4Q20wemzINozGidSNiGvEI5oBt1HhV7Mwdek1cHX_aeZ7972F495gmt1TFsJhigkfHAY9BsuqElQoEjnRtypjsm22kl_PKXDPKvPaYftyvgG2odAAPbaKBeZ4luHGz-rgaayRO_n0sg=s1280" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwThqmO5ks4-hjQOwPIlP9y7tFrCCd__dCcq0K12Hq9Vvdp1Y4Q20wemzINozGidSNiGvEI5oBt1HhV7Mwdek1cHX_aeZ7972F495gmt1TFsJhigkfHAY9BsuqElQoEjnRtypjsm22kl_PKXDPKvPaYftyvgG2odAAPbaKBeZ4luHGz-rgaayRO_n0sg=w335-h318" width="335" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Maybe
we are not supposed to be able to answer this question in a black and white
kind of way. But I feel like the meaning of life is definitely not some short
list. I think we are supposed learn, grow, forgive, and love. I think community
is important. I think pleasure, joy, and love make pain, adversity and grief
bearable – except for when they don’t because sometimes nothing seems to help. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think we are meant to be gentle with
ourselves and while we’re at it, with other living things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
think we are supposed to be kind even when we aren’t receiving kindness. It’s
so much more profound when it’s the right thing to do. I think we ought to aim
to use our talents in a way probably only we can. The meaning of life is individual.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Perhaps, it’s
to surv</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ive the chaos, to ask for and accept help, to cozy up with vulnerability,
to feel gratitude, and to find meaning and grace despite what hand we got
dealt.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Personally,
I have long way to go, I need to place more import on letting the messy stuff
be part of the triumph, like it is in sport. I need to be less interested a
clean house and more in the memories that made the mess in the first place. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_4"
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</v:shape><![endif]--><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>kindness
and compassion - when I’m struggling, I tend push people away and I create difficulty, I literally make this unintentional quicksand that anyone who walks towards me succumbs to. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I need to be most compassionate and most sympathetic
during those times when I need it the most—be the change you want to see and all. I need to
lean in, risk is not fun (especially not on paper), but it’s worth it most
times. Looking back on my 41 years, my biggest leaps of faith were the birthplace
of my most incredible triumphs and most handsome rewards.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8DNJeUO3HLEPfSxpSJ-9DiVWPaEJ4WP7UXtlAcyUbTZznv8ma4Z-7isU8__R0NJAeKC6HIvwOHDg55OJuxRKNFlvHpJlPiUQR6bb0OU4TOpjL7haqhXoRjb-FPseqh7rgU9IZzXlbvIE93x6CHuCn-mqDdZc1B85ST0afnl9Aoncp6MvYH-xYeZbzPQ=s1169" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="1169" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8DNJeUO3HLEPfSxpSJ-9DiVWPaEJ4WP7UXtlAcyUbTZznv8ma4Z-7isU8__R0NJAeKC6HIvwOHDg55OJuxRKNFlvHpJlPiUQR6bb0OU4TOpjL7haqhXoRjb-FPseqh7rgU9IZzXlbvIE93x6CHuCn-mqDdZc1B85ST0afnl9Aoncp6MvYH-xYeZbzPQ=w357-h205" width="357" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Something
crazy happens though—doesn’t it— once you have to keep other humans alive, there’s
a shift from taking calculated the leaps of faith to this preventive thinking, a best
outcome/minimal risk thing… I blame evolutionary biology </span>because we should still take the leaps. Our tiny humans will learn the value of a leap of faith. </span><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">So
the meaning of my life is still evolving: but… I know I need to keep working on me and
not lose sight of the fact that me at my best uplifts everyone around me. Plus,
giving up my own light (yes past my societal prime) doesn’t uplift
anything or anyone. Practising self-growth stunts my overthinking disorder. </span><div><div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Also,
I want to underpin my months and years with a feeling of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>true gratitude. I want to stop weighing the
value of all my effort or expecting my effort to comfort me- it's a choice, and doing my
best does comfort me. Continuous effort is accumulative and deeply
satisfying – big picture wise. x<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE END</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: ""serif"","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
challenge you to answer question ONE and then all 21… and then again 10 years from
now. What have any of us got to lose? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /></div></div></div>the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-77507940334177893462018-01-09T12:56:00.002-08:002020-03-22T05:11:11.750-07:00On: Motherhood<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Baskerville Old Face, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Two-years-ago, I willingly signed up for this ‘demanding’ training course; one of those … learn-as-much-information-as-humanly-possible situations. This condensed exposure assignment was </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">publicly</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> known as “motherhood,” and as of 2017, I left my enjoyable, selfish comfort bubble and became a card-carrying-trainee – FOR LIFE.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Advertising said there was the equivalent of a second birthday, a whole holiday dedicated to these women where they were showered with gifts and could relax and revel in their parenting accomplishments and hard work; so much love – they said – one might explode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKcPd2xuL5czuEZtIoK0ptRmdUieBe5HoJdAilKHUMMET2elVKIFs72gZpUVWJL7E8Fh6oEM4JzGboTcBr5_vBPZ6mrzlswSEq2KLuqzbAS0UXYJorBAgcM3e6q2t-rz8VL9oXDmffLl_/s1600/verity6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="480" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKcPd2xuL5czuEZtIoK0ptRmdUieBe5HoJdAilKHUMMET2elVKIFs72gZpUVWJL7E8Fh6oEM4JzGboTcBr5_vBPZ6mrzlswSEq2KLuqzbAS0UXYJorBAgcM3e6q2t-rz8VL9oXDmffLl_/s400/verity6.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">They didn’t say there would be 1000 extra loads of laundry or diapers so offensive there might be tears, they didn’t mention any one of a million moments that would bring you to your knees looking frantically for a white flag to wave or some a manual to consult. Nonetheless, my whole being is invested forever. I am a lifetime card-carrying member of the mom club. I’m proud. It is a privilege to raise a person; it is important work and a sacrifice which has few equals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Delivery day: I’m on a rolling gurney, they’re pulling bobby pins from my crown braid – nothing metal in the ER!! I’m getting the short version of surgery, my husband has been whisked off to sign some forms and put on scrubs, I can’t feel my legs, I didn’t do any research this spinal tap … gap in memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">After 30-hours of labor (labour) some pretty aggressive threats to both, a student nurse and my husband, one attempted escape, some forceps, and an unexpected spinal tap later, I had a baby girl in my arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoR7UQ-zpBA8g-2GUMwKdor8UFoB3GPD9knaxWLGc27pVZiverqfe970ICjr5rJ4GCXSsSPTBmLNcLGdbEPlMX5UgAj_mZWrhbyaTb1DyI15r_nyrorDLqitAP0yn6upa0niz9bFoQGowF/s1600/verity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="893" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoR7UQ-zpBA8g-2GUMwKdor8UFoB3GPD9knaxWLGc27pVZiverqfe970ICjr5rJ4GCXSsSPTBmLNcLGdbEPlMX5UgAj_mZWrhbyaTb1DyI15r_nyrorDLqitAP0yn6upa0niz9bFoQGowF/s320/verity.jpg" width="297" /></a><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I couldn’t understand the intensity of emotions swirling around my exhausted, inexperienced head. In that moment, I clung first to disbelief until awe set in. Most of my first 24 hours with her, I can’t remember. But soon I began collecting every incredible and consuming feeling and I tucked them all away into a lock box in my heart. I am forever bound to you from 6lbs 13oz to whatever did and does happen forever – even that 1 pound of weight loss you tortured me with just one week after you were born. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />Y O U are so beautiful, sometimes I think I’ll never see anything more perfect from here on out, and then one of those days hits me smack between my eyes. I fall off my crying-over-your-beauty-rainbow and hit the ground. THUMP … Yes, because things get difficult, and draining and oh so weepy … sometimes we both cry. But mainly it’s you; sometimes you scream and moan … and how did you get poop on my arm?!? Then you take a fist full of my hair and yell some more. You are so dramatic. </span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>But you are so gorgeous, my daughter. You are remarkable and exquisite and unique. Know this: I will make mistakes and I will miss the mark, I will yell and we won’t always agree, but I will never take you for granted.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville Old Face, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I understand, you are learning and absorbing at a rate no formed adult can comprehend/remember. You crave stimulation like lungs do air; I do my best little muffin. But just when I feel proud of our harmony, you decide to shake things up. It is precisely during those moments of clarity and harmony that you regurgitate your entire meal onto my fresh, clean shirt in 20 minute intervals (and I wore </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">pyjamas</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> for 2-months, so putting on a shirt was a big step for me.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />You are the neediest best friend I've ever had, but thanks for testing my patience; I've always needed to work on that. Thanks for teaching me how to eat dinner in 14 seconds with my non-dominate hand. Thank you for making me feel funny and for being amused when I do basic and mundane things or say anything in a voice just one octave higher than normal . Your gummy smile shatters my happiness meter. I love you.</span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville Old Face, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">You are incredible to me and always will be; it’s unimaginably painfully, gorgeous; it’s heart-stopping; your beauty is </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">recognisably</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> already worth all the hard work and bad days scattered in front of me for the next 40-years or however many I have left as your mom. Your beauty is even worth the first time you tell me you hate me, and you will (sad face) because hormones are Horrible with a capital H.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I look at you and I see these perfect, tiny, little body parts and facial features that I assembled with my own body. God knows how it all works, but it is truly amazing. This love that I get to feel is because I made a life. For 9-months, I gave up coffee and alcohol and certain food; I anxiously calculated every choice in relation to growing you. I borrowed a very important cell from your dad and gave up my body to give you a safe home, a place for you to grow and form. I also gave up what my body was, and maybe I gave up the best it would ever look in a bikini – fair trade. WORTH IT! Plus I can add, “can grow skeleton” to the skills section of my resume.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">To my budding, little person, to my exquisite girl, if I could record everything you do -- I would. You won’t remember what we’ve been through or even understand our connection, the best chance you’ll likely have at even appreciating that is if you are lucky enough to have your own children. You will have babies one day, but maybe you won’t because sometimes it just not possible. If you want to but can’t, I’ll sit with you and your unimaginable hurt, I’ll urge you to live on to find your unique purpose. I’ll hold your sweet head in my hands until you cry the last tear you need to cry in order to move on. I would give up my own life if you wanted something you couldn’t have -- if it were only that easy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />And there’s more—</span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 18pt;">LIFE isn’t easy…</span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /> ... it’s gritty and sometimes it feels like you’re chewing on beach sand just to get through the days and challenges that will find you. Be brave and kind and trust that whatever hurts will fade .. a bit …or a lot …. or totally – with time. Give it time, my love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You will call me a thousand times and ask how to make my deviled eggs, even though it’s only mustard and mayo, I will tell you patiently and happily because I love it when you call me.</span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">When you are 18 you’ll want a tattoo of a quote or some animal that you think is really cute. To your 18-year-old mind, this seems justifiable – Please DON’T do it, choosing something permanent with a mind that's still evolving might haunt you well into your 80s. You might like it in the end, but it's more likely that when you’re 29 you will wish you could go back in time and tell your 18-year-old self to sleep on it – for a decade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hopefully the future you will always be a better version of “the you” that you are along the way. I will raise you to strive for self-improvement as you go along in life. I will teach you to own everything that happens to you ... even your mistakes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 18pt;"><br />"if you want people to speak affectionately of you, you should have behaved better."</span></i><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Munchkin, you will get gum stuck in your hair, don’t cut it out yourself, yes, you guessed it, I WILL be mad, but even more mad if you hide it from me. And speaking of gum in your hair, it’s a metaphor for living your life and accepting the good with the bad; the intricacies of perspective and the narratives of difficult situations can be complicated despite the best intentions … Sweet, chewy gum is far less appealing in your hair than your mouth. But stay calm, find a solution and in the end, it will be OK.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And a few more lessons – there so many, I hope I do them justice and help you blossom, I hope you’re graceful girl- a kind one. I will teach you to let your life breathe — tell your story; be authentic, rise from loss and pain and setback. Perfection is an idea not a reality. I will teach you to acknowledge your urges and that your primary relationship should always be with yourself. A long time ago, I read somewhere that if you love yourself, you will attract the same love, compassion and loyalty in other people, I never stopped believing that and I hope I can teach you to believe it too. I will teach you to be intimate with your feelings – feelings are so difficult but this ebb and flow is what actually makes life so good. Joy sometimes hurts, not only because of the hardships to get there but because sometimes it’s fleeting. Listen, I know it sounds loony. You will cry, and lose people and know heart break (pause for my own sobs) and there will be thousands of days when you will want to throw in the towel and give up. DON’T give up! It all makes sense with time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville Old Face, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I could write 50 more pages but there’s just two more things: ONE, in relationships demand respect, don’t let anyone take advantage of any good you have offer – good in a relationship should be a mirror; TWO, your father is a shining example of a good man, </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">recognise</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> that before you begin dating. And the last thing I will say (for now…) no one will ever love you as much as I do. I made you and that is just the way it goes kiddo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Be good. Be kind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />Forever yours,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Mom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face", serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /> <3 <3 <b><i>Lovingly dedicated to my MOM <3 <3</i></b></span></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-88365203297075123092017-04-24T05:56:00.002-07:002020-06-11T04:43:31.541-07:00On: the 5%<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">If you read anything this year, let it be the blog post, <u>The Tail End</u> by: Tim Urban. (I’ll
include the link at the bottom.) If afterwards you don’t feel sentimental (or
all-out sob hysterically -- like I have) ... congratulations, because it's a heavy one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Furthermore, the most
remarkable thing I have watched in the name of entertainment or education is the TED talk, <u>Do Schools Kill
Creativity</u> by: Sir Ken Robinson (link also at bottom). I watch it each year since I discovered it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Because of my own chosen career path, I have many friends who
work in the performing arts and if any of you are reading this post (which I
have shared on Facebook and Instagram)… please know that the assessments supported
in both of these works will make your heart sing and your optimism float! They
are both so valuable and confirming in a world that moves faster than ever
before. READ THE BLOG, WATCH THE LINK, you’ll thank me later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvlight"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“ I can’t tell
you how wonderful it was, we walked in this room and it was full of people like
me, people who couldn’t sit still, people who had to move to think” – Gillian Lynne<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Otherwise, If you have stumbled
upon this and are reading it, consider that it will only take you a few minutes
to consume both of the highly valuable perspectives I have recommended … please copy the links
and save them in a notes page on your iPhone, or on your favorites bar; also
give yourself the gift of 15 minutes (minimum) daily. Let yourself have a tiny
chunk of time to indulge, do something for you — social media doesn’t count. I
truly believe, our minds will be trapped and dull if we only allow them to do
things and think thoughts based on what needs to get done – bills, kids, work,
loans… stress. I promise you won’t forget to pay the bills if you stop dedicated 20-minutes per day to worrying about paying the bills. Log the need in that incredible memory
of yours and spend the 20 minutes pampering yourself, stretching or sleeping longer. x<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Me personally, I have an aim to be as authentic as I can during my human experience ... and I was always proud of being unconventional. I ran away from home
to see the world, to learn about my fears and strength. Insofar, I found many triumphs. I left the nest
and those people I love. Now more than ever, I realize that I traded in something very valuable for
something I knew I needed. I needed to wander to truly be free, and to nurture my
natural abilities and to have faith in the things I felt so sure of. Because there are things - for everyone - from a time before the world or an adopted fear strips them away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">I am imaginative and creative and I think those things will draw me
to wholeness, wellness and security--as they always have. I knew being stuck in convention would
have kept that truth hidden from me. I can't imagine living my whole life in the proverbial dark. I don't exactly know how I knew, but letting my emotions have space was remarkable; they aren't good or bad, they just are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Truthfully: I only found the words for that
sentiment recently.Nonetheless,I am grateful that I felt my urges and that I let myself
take them seriously. I am grateful for parents who refused to medicate me and
who let me be unique, thoughtful and <b><i>distracted.</i></b> I am grateful for a family who
let sleeping dogs lie and rolling stones roll. I love you and I will make our 5% count. I will make whatever percentage count!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Final thoughts: listen
to your urges, let yourself be successful in your true nature with your natural abilities and </span><b><i><span style="font-family: "helvlight"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“make sure your
priorities are set by you—not by unconscious inertia.” — </span></i></b><span style="font-family: "helvlight"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tim Urban<b><i> </i></b></span><span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "helvlight";">If you need a push,
see the links below:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><br /></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Tim Urban:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><a href="http://waitbutwhy.com/2015/12/the-tail-end.html">http://waitbutwhy.com/2015/12/the-tail-end.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvlight";">Ken Robinson:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvlight";"><a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity">https://www.ted.com/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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x A</div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-32262708804271154762016-11-11T07:53:00.001-08:002022-03-04T06:18:00.960-08:00On: President Donald Trump<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Disclaimer:</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> I didn't vote for President Trump, but he is the President and a huge part of me wants desperately for him to succeed... not to break a mold or to shove it to corrupt politics but because if he does, then the people and nation will be succeeding to a certain degree too. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Dear Mr. President</span><strike style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px;"> Elect</strike><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You have been elected, the majority has spoken … and now you have asked
us to rally behind you, regardless of where our individual votes were cast; I
genuinely agree that it’s our part of the deal, in a free democratic election, we
should rally behind the victor. So Mr. Trump, I’m rallying; but please don’t
forget your part of the deal. You promised us we’d never be forgotten again and
that you’d lead each and every one of us. You may not personally value or place
import on the things I do, but your end of the bargain revolves around
listening to our voices. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><em>To start, this is what (our voices) are saying:</em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">RESPECT
is RECIPROCAL<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have always been upset with the idea that we could
take to the internet and just say whatever we pleased about anyone – let alone
– the president of the United States, it used to be considered treasonous to defame and advertise
bitter, hurtful, opinionated things about our leaders. But one day we all
started accepting this behavior, we started demonstrating it ourselves and
teaching our youth that it was okay. Mr. Trump, you’re a parent, what example did
you lead? My parents raised me to understand that people in glass houses
shouldn’t throw stones. Not too long ago you sat carelessly somewhere and
published your not-so-kind opinion of President Barrack Obama. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(@realDonaldTrump: “President Obama will go down as
perhaps the worst president in the history of the United States.” — Donald J
Trump ) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And
Mr. Trump, just yesterday you wrote this: (@realDonaldTrump: “Just had a very
open and successful presidential election. Now professional protesters, incited
by the media are protesting. Very unfair!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>—Donald J Trump<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-I-Y7t-nrCOPgZFfcUbMylNe06j0mymxe_Eus7P6OH3Cy83LKYrOb8a2cJrExMfmsNHfTpiAQsdTdsk3q3gcdOLxxdjr11sBZqqyDymCJF2bOgITJx5OxUU9U1apd2NLFs6gsgfwgKrQ/s1600/d9d84d88fe286d387a87681df777c958.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-I-Y7t-nrCOPgZFfcUbMylNe06j0mymxe_Eus7P6OH3Cy83LKYrOb8a2cJrExMfmsNHfTpiAQsdTdsk3q3gcdOLxxdjr11sBZqqyDymCJF2bOgITJx5OxUU9U1apd2NLFs6gsgfwgKrQ/s320/d9d84d88fe286d387a87681df777c958.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My generation doesn't feel comfortable when you act like a hypocrite- or speak like a toddler and just spit out your first thought without consulting the frontal lobes. It is both wasteful and
a bit naïve to expect your experience and transition into presidency to be warm when you've never rallied behind a leader. You are not deserving of more respect than your predecessor, especially when you were not respectful yourself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was you, after all, who willingly antagonized and ridiculed others. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Trump, how come your behavior bashing a president should be tolerated but
the reciprocal behavior is: as you call it, “Very unfair”? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I learned about winning and losing when I was 9 years old, and I learned not to name call even younger than that. So please educate me, why is bullying ok for you and why is your win more deserving of applause? If you had held yourself to those same standards, protesting your win would have been seen as very unfair; I think the word you may be looking for is IRONY. You attracted that response with your
own energy. If you really meant that you wanted to heal and unite this nation,
a little humility is a good place to start.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;">The good news, every minute is chance for you to turn it all around; I am rallying, not because I agree with everything that you do, but because it's the right thing to do, and I will treat you as I would want to be treated. My generation has a lot to teach you, including that respect is something you can earn. You don't take respect and you're not born with it.</span></span></div>
<br />
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We CARE about the FUTURE of the PLANET<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yesterday, I provoked some of my friends on Facebook
to talk about climate change; I wanted to know their take on some of the
implications derived from the science and the hype. What they wrote was elegant,
caring, and informed responses. Their summary of a very large, confusing issue
sounds like this: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dear Mr. President, <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<u><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Please take care of
our environment; please understand that more severe weather patterns, violently,
colder winters and more catastrophic natural disasters like hurricanes and
forest fires are the result of climate change. It is impossible not to see the
damage human beings have caused. Our planet needs to be a priority. If we don't care
about clean energy, and we don’t advance our thinking, irreparable damage is
certainly the gamble we are taking. Climate change is not as simple as you seem to think it is,
try to understand it differently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It‘s
not this ‘black and white’, ‘the whole planet isn't just a few degrees warmer’
kind of problem. The planet depends on you and your choices; after you have gone
from this world, we will still be here. Please Mr. Trump, educate yourself. You
now have access to some of the most gifted minds; you can take incredibly informed
advice; please don't let us down.<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yours Sincerely, </span></i></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> The FUTURE</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Be
OPEN-MINDED<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Everyone
you will ever meet knows something you don’t yet.” —Bill Nye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are people out there who elected you
because you’re different, because government had become so elite, it was made
up of wealthy, lawyers who were professionally trained to fight with each other.
Debate skills and argumentativeness are valued in the practice of law, but you
aren’t trained, therein lies the great hope, the HOPE that you will rise to
this occasion and become our voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-HPhsAknB4ZHFlwF5xhrgweXhjlia1R_-Lod5eQmTZ3b12ZL1Pn79ssBe6JmjXW5v7O47DnznTVGsa6FqDVQFJ75MSUldkKHeOEZBYYW5NlqtJx7KbHWi0kdLT_A5U167oFFvdnpN-dJ/s1600/american-flag-cartoon-clipart-best-195054.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-HPhsAknB4ZHFlwF5xhrgweXhjlia1R_-Lod5eQmTZ3b12ZL1Pn79ssBe6JmjXW5v7O47DnznTVGsa6FqDVQFJ75MSUldkKHeOEZBYYW5NlqtJx7KbHWi0kdLT_A5U167oFFvdnpN-dJ/s200/american-flag-cartoon-clipart-best-195054.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With this vote people seem to be saying: <i>"We"</i> don’t want any more fighting; <i>we</i> don’t want money moving big decisions and <i>we</i> don't want politics to be about whichever team has the most lobbying dollars – <i>we</i>
want and need change! <i>We</i> need a new definition for politician. and <i>we</i> hope it's you. By electing you, <i>we</i> have made it
abundantly clear that <i>we</i> don’t care that you’ve been crude, <i>we</i> don’t care about
her emails, or about your young wife, we don’t care that she’s an immigrant vs.
your stance on immigration. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>We </i>actually
don’t care about any of your double standards – ignorant as they may be – <i>we</i> just
don’t care. But even you, Mr. Trump will need to rise above, otherwise you will only serve yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The people seem to be sending a message...what
<b><i>we </i></b>do care about is: the issue that affect our daily lives; <b><i>we</i></b> care about rebuilding
a government that works for everyone, the elite are fine. <b><i>We </i></b>need a representative that can be
person before a right or left viewpoint. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><b>We</b></i> care about finding a path to unity; race
and religion shouldn’t come between us—not anymore—<b><i>we</i></b> know better. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>We</b> have to
figure out how to trust each other and we need to rip off that band-aid. No no!
NEVER FORGET, but – it’s impossible to heal when you carry
it around with you.<b><i> We</i></b> care about the environment, and the world we leave behind for
our kids and future generations. <b><i>We</i></b> care about being safe and about working
hard towards each and every one of our tiny goals; it shouldn’t be so difficult
to find work. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The vote happened, and I'm not one to throw bricks or fight fire with fire, but Please Mr. Trump, <strong>be open-minded</strong> and think of us, so many of us
struggle to pay student loans and struggle to make ends meet, <b><i>we</i></b> look at you
and <b><i>we </i></b>just can’t relate, what must it be like to never wonder how you will pay
for the food or keep the heat on. Please honor that vow you took after winning
the election.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">p.s. I am willing to turn it all around, I'll go first: I'm sorry I put that silly image online of you looking like a clown, if it's hurtful, I'll remove it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">-A xx</span></div>
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</div>
</div>
</div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-8501241204770183142016-11-02T07:14:00.001-07:002018-09-18T09:35:56.551-07:00On: A Wedding Day<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHsbTQhkk0ovewDHhFIZoJMCxv0dO9nnV7R70Cj0tPx5tzPrBstsuZ9s4T6P_4QIzjAXeBFljNZbQ3hqgnRcJCOSVk7Y0yP2Rn9YYX0id5U6uLIgm96PEqY0x0255hOfW1Vj8os2bW5Ol/s1600/14914569_10109145289613124_2111584036_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHsbTQhkk0ovewDHhFIZoJMCxv0dO9nnV7R70Cj0tPx5tzPrBstsuZ9s4T6P_4QIzjAXeBFljNZbQ3hqgnRcJCOSVk7Y0yP2Rn9YYX0id5U6uLIgm96PEqY0x0255hOfW1Vj8os2bW5Ol/s200/14914569_10109145289613124_2111584036_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Don’t
be fooled, you can never know what having your own wedding day would be like
until it’s happening to you. I had attended quite a few weddings in my lifetime, and I
let myself believe I didn’t need one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I told myself that chair coverings and table cloth colors should never be something to focus my energy on. I let myself be fine with not spending so much money on one day, and I allowed myself think that a wedding was a vain, tradition I could live
without—I was wrong, I was -<em>oh so very wrong.</em><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I
never was the little girl who dreamt of her wedding day, I used to dream of
pink skies, walking across laser beams and about what clouds tasted like. My mind was a wonderland
of curiosity and I could lose myself there for hours. It never occurred to me
to imagine something common, I didn't think to obsess about something that seemed rather expected
of us. I am a hopeless romantic, but I’m unconventional to the core, my
fantasies revolved around fabulous unknowns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUs5X1CCsiwo61wzzFRo_JwXkvByGGPfVtlwT6mkpVJyt4B1_q1OsfvfvNHVhjS7tZtn-w4jg5ly0b90Kb0-Vjjb96C5bpSZ0bLtZDSt1fQ3YSK5HBzIli_d14_SXLlguqhCbntn7wuAPI/s1600/14937064_10109145286783794_278331400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUs5X1CCsiwo61wzzFRo_JwXkvByGGPfVtlwT6mkpVJyt4B1_q1OsfvfvNHVhjS7tZtn-w4jg5ly0b90Kb0-Vjjb96C5bpSZ0bLtZDSt1fQ3YSK5HBzIli_d14_SXLlguqhCbntn7wuAPI/s320/14937064_10109145286783794_278331400_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>If you don’t want to have a wedding, then don’t. Yes, it can be that simple.</strong></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">My
version of things isn’t some scripture or exception-less truth, it’s a new
perspective and it’s wallowing in the magic of being in love and finding the
person you want to share the rest of life’s wild journey with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>All I’m preaching is: don’t
talk yourself out of doing it because you think you understand what you’re
missing—you don’t.</strong></span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpk8cbWQht4v8mp3zrsV5k5VKBdC2nBhEz3fOpbzV-ECrsDc2DHMai5x8Zq88u2aGoSAqfRmDLRQgHK0XhSspqQ9nYoqoPnFuJrh6kfoyEKQPIOpmhyphenhyphen4xiwze0wWEYMiLMeUF8ubp3tFd/s1600/Fullscreen+capture+1122016+14640+PM.bmp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpk8cbWQht4v8mp3zrsV5k5VKBdC2nBhEz3fOpbzV-ECrsDc2DHMai5x8Zq88u2aGoSAqfRmDLRQgHK0XhSspqQ9nYoqoPnFuJrh6kfoyEKQPIOpmhyphenhyphen4xiwze0wWEYMiLMeUF8ubp3tFd/s320/Fullscreen+capture+1122016+14640+PM.bmp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">You couldn't possibly know what you're missing. I thought it was about pride and kitchen appliances. It’s not, it’s about love;
it's a Venn Diagram of your past, present and future. It’s getting every good thing about the both of you and putting it in one room; it’s all the
people that helped better you and the tiny imprints forever in your heart -escaped- and just
floating around the spaces between your bodies. It’s a network of love, and
on that special day, that network has one thing in common - - it’s so magical. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing I’ve done so far compares to it's magic, I’m still
in awe as I write this to page. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">They
all showed up, for the same reason, they came miles and hours and days away
from their homes. They were unselfish; they gave you wishes and gifts; they
danced, ate and laughed at a party you designed just for them. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Yes,
things went wrong, and big disasters were averted into smaller ones; nervous
energy doesn’t always draw calm reasonable results, but I get to tell my story
how I remember it, and this is how I’ll always remember it -- it was about LOVE;
dreamlike and fantastic. It was truly unimaginable and my heart was soaring
with joy. A kind of joy that I’ve never known. I was happiest and the least
stressed I’ve ever been.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">People always find it difficult to slow up and realize what's good and happy before it's gone, I'm there. My life is good and happy and it's took me 36 years to really fill up with appreciation for that idea. If you aren't hitched and a tiny part of you thinks it could be for you -- if you aren't sure -- I'd say keep looking and hoping and going, it's the way forward.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-40278359732586733232016-06-23T10:17:00.002-07:002022-03-04T06:43:50.551-08:00On: Cheesegate<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was feeling a bit emotional and frantic the days
and minutes leading up to an event we will, from here on out, call #cheesgate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When one has too much time to think, unfortunately
that thinking can -- and often does -- go sour. And after these ideas turn to worry;
they birth a variety of other negatives which wouldn’t have been possible if
not for the superfluous thinking to begin with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes you hear people talking about planting
those good mental seeds; think positive – they say cheerfully…. and look on the
bright side. Time after time, articles, blogs, papers, quotes, and books proclaim
that being positive is the way forward. I’ve read that being positive will help
you have mostly positive experiences. This is probably true and we all know it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Getting out of bed to whine about the cold floor or
the bad dream, surely becomes the stubbed toe and burnt toast, traffic, spill,
trip, arrrggghhhhh! Even though I believe this idea and for the most part try
to live by it, sometimes I lose my way – BIG TIME. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8Xi_IQAaIUgPPe5eHpAb-N-CjiSrihAyUbZguHxCAoQNe8mdjH451zADKjqLDJKv-uKR48X6Vpck7MBU3eq26kqQc2h3Tmx2ycVPh0rLyDbm5Yoidub48hRHT4hyphenhyphenE_DqRwsEh8nFbucs/s1600/Cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8Xi_IQAaIUgPPe5eHpAb-N-CjiSrihAyUbZguHxCAoQNe8mdjH451zADKjqLDJKv-uKR48X6Vpck7MBU3eq26kqQc2h3Tmx2ycVPh0rLyDbm5Yoidub48hRHT4hyphenhyphenE_DqRwsEh8nFbucs/s200/Cheese.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">#Cheesegate <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">June 14<sup>th</sup> 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was mid lather that afternoon, feeling lonely and
feeling crabby, feeling sorry for myself. So many feelings! Things were not
going perfectly, and I was in hard focus to that fact. It was, of course,
raining; the load of clean towels just finishing up in the washer had no hope
of getting dry out on the line. Waaaaaa… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This is also slightly embarrassing to write because
I am fully aware that I was being ridiculous. My perceived problems gingerly
cheered on by my PMS, are not actual problems. These types of problems are cushy,
invented problems founded in boredom and they are wholly useless. I fully
respect that people in the world have real problems like pain, illness,
heartache, hunger, and loss to name a few; I know that I need to reserve my
worry and sadness for those inevitable days, in the course of a lifetime,
filled with actual problems. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6:05 PM: The rain has finally stopped, and I think
to myself: ‘what’s the easiest, fastest dinner I can make?’ As I busy myself
tidying the kitchen, my fiancé arrives home from work; shortly after him my
dinner idea arrives too, ‘that’s it, I can make us Grilled Cheese!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagB75oaER6wm98sJY0uP6PQ_kDpiAHPs3ccucE0GQH9_76m_341nZKTH7PhrRrUen4gUohziXjqUuyj43LA3LJ0RSfmMqdjnzoqmuqtL-hg2dJ3-JZ7S_-gmZ7B7OrMBMjpEkuT6nrEU4/s1600/fde300f443b44e9ed927fe78c815c30b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagB75oaER6wm98sJY0uP6PQ_kDpiAHPs3ccucE0GQH9_76m_341nZKTH7PhrRrUen4gUohziXjqUuyj43LA3LJ0RSfmMqdjnzoqmuqtL-hg2dJ3-JZ7S_-gmZ7B7OrMBMjpEkuT6nrEU4/s400/fde300f443b44e9ed927fe78c815c30b.jpg" width="285" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast-forward, I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches
with shredded cheddar, butter and fresh bread. When they first become ready to
be flipped, not all of the cheese is melted, yet being somewhat of an expert on
the nuances of grilled cheese sandwiches, I know in my heart it’s time to
carefully flip the bread. The first flip is delicate but necessary. I slide the
spatula in one swift motion under the first sandwich; my plan is to use two
fingers to hold the premature creation together as I ease it to the other side.
Unfortunately my brain was two steps ahead of what was happening real time. All
it took was one snag, faster than I realized, the pan slipped a few inches from
the center of the pegs around the gas flame. It then fell towards the floor,
red hot, I had no choice but to step back and watch my day finally crumble into
utter imperfection—just as I expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The red hot pan didn’t just land face up allowing me to then use the
handle to simply pick it up and make a small set back into an easy fix – NO, no,
nooooo … <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it landed face up, but only
after one full rotation ejecting the bread and cheese into mid-air while
simultaneously decorating and trashing the room in an instant; #cheesegate was
real and it just happened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After its mid fall rotation, the red hot pan melted
swiftly to the lovely IKEA kitchen rug and the odor of burnt yarn immediate hit
my nose. I yelled a few obscenities, glanced towards the open window to see our
neighbors, the nicest, rabbit-owning, vegetarian, lesbians I’ve ever met,
thrust into the drama of #cheesegate simply by proximity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I swiftly ran away to lick my wounds, and I passed
my man on my way from the kitchen, leaving him to take in the chaos…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a melted rug, hairy dinner, cheese explosion,
two glaring and curious lesbians, a gas, cooking flame, still burning and all
of this set to the sweet, sweet background music of my sobs. An anthem, of
defeat wafted from my lungs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-88410600252993283632016-06-16T02:33:00.001-07:002016-11-11T08:18:06.226-08:00On: Do-OVERS, an introduction<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This is a do-over moment. I think….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1bNO2uOe4ISHmLSSL2Etpn3clYRY78JlfjBdEVIByR3vSX_CAwKWjwg3dfiQSR2Whxa_mPJOPED0rpChG_-UxFKIZHY1OiXmYxfYElpzQAzwAx5OnAvKXG6nPPAk3eHl91NLtwyggwZh/s1600/2015+-+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1bNO2uOe4ISHmLSSL2Etpn3clYRY78JlfjBdEVIByR3vSX_CAwKWjwg3dfiQSR2Whxa_mPJOPED0rpChG_-UxFKIZHY1OiXmYxfYElpzQAzwAx5OnAvKXG6nPPAk3eHl91NLtwyggwZh/s200/2015+-+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I started a blog in 2014, initially just to show
myself I could do it, to show myself that I could make time for it or write
powerful things, and maybe a little bit to prove I wasn’t afraid to share my
ideas with complete strangers. Hi!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For about two minutes, I felt bold and brave and checked off a
resolution. Bond--James Bond. But as it turns out, I made all the classic mistakes. I didn’t introduce
myself, I didn’t grow an audience, I didn’t<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>specialize ...so what?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I gravitate towards passion and enthusiasm,
I follow my own set of specific blogs.... but I just wish there was also space for talking and typing and pondering without
diversifying without choosing a very specific niche. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I value authenticity and I don’t want to hide
behind an internet image that can only protects me from reality
and pain. I actually want to expose myself and talk about my realities and pain.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I want to start dialog and smash
boundaries and do it with like-minded-stranger-friends whom I found on the internet!
So what do you say, like-minded-stranger-friend? Can I write powerful things and
can we talk about a variety of topics and can it be ok to have a passion for knowledge
and passion for variety? </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few years
ago I had tiny voice in my head quoting field of dreams, “if you build it they
will come” …..naïve…. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I built it and
they didn’t come. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish I could go back
and do it right, because I love writing. It might be my thing, it might be my niche. I
think that passion and effort are far less valuable then celebrity and followers
in 2016.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68sWmlDdrF62ZfAiQ8z5l7WLJEuRAz97ySFgPHbuhrkTb7s4e2TROdRJ9XBRBS1y85sc6OCrLr1WUPPsK8IRLUv1oxUBgT8Gh7h3rJscP5QSNfO-L38__GSKnCg71QHQPf4G0iLfF3kaF/s1600/IMG_6459.aaJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68sWmlDdrF62ZfAiQ8z5l7WLJEuRAz97ySFgPHbuhrkTb7s4e2TROdRJ9XBRBS1y85sc6OCrLr1WUPPsK8IRLUv1oxUBgT8Gh7h3rJscP5QSNfO-L38__GSKnCg71QHQPf4G0iLfF3kaF/s320/IMG_6459.aaJPG.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">SO with all that said, please let me introduce
myself, I’m called Annie, I live my whole life with my whole heart; from the time I was small, I knew I wanted
to be a storyteller. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I love social science and brain science and art, theatre,
books, food and I love people, for they make life fascinating and they make love possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I firmly believe
that being emotional is not and should not be considered an illness; but instead
a skill. Expressing emotion is an undervalued skill. Some people have numbers to comfort them and others an ear for linguistics. Being able
to feel is something that literally gives birth to creativity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve made the correlation
that creative people are prone to depression and then we just stopped asking
questions. Maybe depression is prone to creativity. Music can make us cry because it holds the emotion of its creator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">People have evolved to hide,
suppress, burry and change their feelings into a variety of things from anger to
physical symptoms to illness. They say a physical symptom of
emotion is tears, we don’t know why a salty liquid streams from our eyes, but
it does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdpE4KkQFl2R8qY-VOi0BX7CQ81p0LzYBEBp_wgtXRTXNWYonK4zxH-hE1C9OCAecFaChOQccSqJgxjjmP7WIXRB9rQiZ4A7xgpdypcdn2F4NjD_6JJ-I81tg_3qtn_nNJCOsHfbJLT1Q/s1600/bill+bye.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdpE4KkQFl2R8qY-VOi0BX7CQ81p0LzYBEBp_wgtXRTXNWYonK4zxH-hE1C9OCAecFaChOQccSqJgxjjmP7WIXRB9rQiZ4A7xgpdypcdn2F4NjD_6JJ-I81tg_3qtn_nNJCOsHfbJLT1Q/s1600/bill+bye.png" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This blog is dedicated to people like me, but it's for
anyone of any race, size, color or variety. Let it be a tasting space for many
different ideas and opinions. I aspire to start conversations and help people
with things I’ve already overcome. But it is also a space to be challenged and hopefully to grow. I want to learn from
people and their challenges that I haven't had to overcome. One of my favorite quotes is:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“everyone you will ever meet knows something
you don’t ”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It has been nice to meet you. Thank you so much for
your time. <i><b>Your time is so valuable and you used some of it to read this.</b></i> Hopefully, I inspire people to tell their stories, to think, to be open and fearless... and most hopefully, I aspire to provide a space (my little bit of cyber-real-estate) where anyone can and everyone can support each other. we can all grow and learn from different kinds of pain and joy! xx <o:p></o:p></span></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-85852260988265945272015-12-09T06:32:00.002-08:002022-03-04T06:43:27.372-08:00On: Unfulfilled Olympic Dreams <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>FORWARD </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think my story really begins the night I watched my mom skating on a seven-foot by eight- foot homemade ice pond in our backyard. The space was illuminated just enough by a small floodlight and I could see her from my bedroom window; she looked so pretty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of those misty nights so it seemed like the air was thick and maybe even visible in that single beam of the light shining in her direction. I was seven years old then.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Little did I know that my first experience with ice skating would spark a 12-year drive towards an Olympic dream. Over the next decade, I spent hundreds of hours perfecting technique, and my parents spent hundreds and thousands of dollars on skates, competitions, ice time, and coaching fees. Nine years after my first day on the ice, I was an international and national medalist, and my desire to reach higher filled me. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 2000, my climb to the top was halted. I learned hundreds of intricate things during my push to find my ultimate potential, one of those things being that people idealistically forget to factor in the set backs that sometimes keep them from accomplishing the things they so desire. We don't plan for injury, or confidence issues; we don't plan for the flu or loss. We plan and aim in a way that only factors in the goals, the good, and what we assume it takes to move only upwards on our map. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is the story that rarely gets told; the story just beyond the glow of the lime light of an aspiring Olympic athlete. The determination and commitment that is part of trying, I now realize, is equal for those who make it and those who do not. What goes into trying to be an Olympian demands the same skill, determination, and persistence whether or not it becomes reality.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>CHAPTER 1</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My older sister was actually the first in my family to be enrolled in skating classes, and I was hauled along to watch her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: black;">As my mom intently focused on my sister, I learned I could slip away without being noticed to play and explore. Soon, I discovered that I could find money under arcade games and hide behind vending machines. What glorious freedom it was. One day, I found 25 hockey pucks under the cold metal bleachers, and it was that same day, I discovered, I quite enjoyed going to the rink. All of those things, plus a 'Slurpee' on good days--the rink was my favorite escape. I couldn’t wait for the weekly trip; I made plans and imagined what I would do once that minivan door rolled open on its squeaky hinges. Welcome to St. Clair Shores Civic Arena – a tomboy’s dream house. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I loved the smell of the cold air, and I loved not feeling hot after I ran around for a half an hour straight. I love being there. I was a messy, hyper, little kid with scraggly hair and likely a food stain on my shirt; the palms of my hands were brown from crawling under the seats</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and if I wasn't embarrassing my mother with said Kool-Aid mustache, it was some other combination of a sloppy trifecta. Any other scenario was a miserable day at the rink for me. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One day, I was strictly ordered to stay put, right next to my mother, in the seats. I remember the lecture on the way through the expansive parking lot, "no escaping", she said, "today is not about adventures, got it?!?" It was true, I had to endure an entire hour just watching my sister take her lesson. I remembered being dressed nicely, if memory serves, I think we had to go straight to Catechism from the rink that evening.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Soon however, I found myself amazed by my mandatory alternative. She was good! She was fast and not at all wobbly-like; basically -- different than I had remembered. Autumn made skating look so easy, how was she doing that, I wondered? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is when my lack of internal monologue had me blurting out, "I think I can do all that stuff she's doing too, mom... when can I take ice skating lessons?"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">My dreams had come true, soon I was enrolled in the next six-week program alongside my sister, and my days of playing under the bleachers were over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once a week, for next six weeks, I laced up little, white ice skates and went to class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Unfortunately, there was one tiny problem, I ABSOLUTELY hated it; skating was NOT fun, was NOT easy and my sister was still better than I was, unacceptable. I wanted out! Denied; it didn’t take long for me to learn one of my mother’s rules: I paid in full, so you participate in full -- non-negotiable. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">"Because I am the mom, and I said so." </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Therefore, keeping with "OUR" commitment to finish the learn-to-skate semester, I did so, but I spent my sessions endlessly day-dreaming about the future. I couldn’t wait to go back to my tom-boy games, to roll around in the glorious dust bunnies behind the Coca-Cola vending machine. This early mentality may or may not have contributed to the large number of dramatics falls I experienced before the six-weeks had finally elapsed, a trauma my knee caps will never let me forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-22172066649520281572015-12-06T18:56:00.004-08:002022-03-04T06:41:35.909-08:00On: a former #Rendezvous (Part II)<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>To fully understand this part of the story you must first read the prequel</em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<a href="http://ionfire.blogspot.com/2014/02/a-path-to-worthy-man-life-lesson.html" target="_blank">PREQUEL</a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The house of cards began to fall. As I reaffirmed my version of events, I was more sure than ever that I believe in love. I believe in the idea evolving in love with ever-changing conditions. Impermanence making all life possible, all love possible. But I also believe in other people, they are the true silver lining of living a human </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">life; people - delicate, unique, people. And above all, I believe in commitment--define it for yourself, value it as you wish but don't be a hypocrite. I<em><strong> was being a hypocrite. </strong></em></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><strong><em>I decided that, </em></strong>I will bolt myself to those rare unique people I find and I will be right there for 300 years. I will! My version of commitment is </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> longer, thicker and more gritty than a mouthful of dirt. I believe in the scariest of desires and all versions of emotional security, counterfeit or otherwise. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I asked myself, what could be so important in this world? It's nice to achieve but why must we consume ourselves in the name of achievement. Aren't we just burning down the future, and missing the point?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGq-vclRTrefB1xtzM-gbpk76W-wzQgGHxrv6ouUi3b023tCbHeiRC6ei2_T8Xp_qakkClOKG59bMqj1avZRapvcVfzh383PC9Y5hJNjdc3DXIkpIe8StDzXrhCpdxdlGirbH4h6wzBzH/s1600/Quotation-John-Green-love-Meetville-Quotes-247091.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGq-vclRTrefB1xtzM-gbpk76W-wzQgGHxrv6ouUi3b023tCbHeiRC6ei2_T8Xp_qakkClOKG59bMqj1avZRapvcVfzh383PC9Y5hJNjdc3DXIkpIe8StDzXrhCpdxdlGirbH4h6wzBzH/s200/Quotation-John-Green-love-Meetville-Quotes-247091.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">TO my future babies: take care of each other. People are the most valuable assets you will get to experience. <span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><strong>I can't stress this enough</strong></span>, people are so important and too many of us seem to learn that one on the way out. I learned it by the time I was 32. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>"People are such a valuable part of human existence. Cherish people, show up, be accountable and do good by the people you get to love... especially by the ones that love you."</em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To love is a gift, a remarkable and creative gift. Don't be too scared to love, even after love has hurt you, even after love has ruined an optimism you'll never feel again. LOVE ANYWAY!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If we can construct insurance companies and create industries and erect and destroy towers in the name of that same security; If we can build and build and build solely to justify all the things we aren't meant to understand, then surely we can commit! We CAN give up all other options for another force that we can't understand--LOVE. Don't mind the fear; fear is every bit as fake as security. It's self preservation and pure irony.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So that's it, that's what I learned here in my wall-less, rendezvous. What makes me feel safe is something people forgot to value, ourselves and each other. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess the concept of emotional security is counterfeit, I think it is of pure human desire, yet I still want it, a tiny sliver.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said, <em><strong>"illusion is the greatest of all pleasures"</strong></em> ? I want a man by my side who will give me all kinds of pleasure both indulgence and delay, both radical and real. And I will wait for him and believe in him, I have to!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so it was with rapid momentum, this man from the rendezvous who gave me no version of hope had made me feel apathetic. I didn't recognize myself. As I waited right there, he didn't have the time, he didn't make the time; I was bored and frustrated because it was exhausting to climb in to bed knowing that I deserved better, without knowing where to search. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">It turns out, it doesn't matter that you don't know where to search, it's matters that you search at all.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To the man too afraid to leave his shell, here's my exit interview: </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dear Rendezvous,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> <em>Mr. "at a safe distance": </em>I am not afraid of my own feelings. I didn't ask for much, I didn't need gobs of stimulation and</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I certainly didn't chase affirmation. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">GOODBYE. I feel like I’ll always want more than I’m allowed, and it haunting because you like it that way. But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I told you what I was built for, what I need and seek. So why are you in this picture? You existed, for now, only to delay me. I am restricted to being stuck in this middle-ground where everything is always slipping away and it has to be fine. I wake up alone and wait for the right time zone and it has all gone beige. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was not vested in an outcome, but outcomes tend to happen either way, with or without expectations tied in neat little bows. You have taught me not to be afraid to lose something that isn’t mine... something that wasn't and never will be mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Being strong and independent is virtuous but not in total lack of well-roundedness.</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Sincerely, A</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dear world, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><strong><em>I want a full life bursting with real love, and wild adventure. I want the ability to embrace all of the grit and wholeness of my accurate existence. <span style="font-size: small;">I want to be a true creative in my work and legacy and to love, to express, those things are truly creative acts. I seem to attract and find the men who want a brave, independent woman but then can NOT handle her. They are so terrified to lose they can't possibly love or be loved in return; a self-fulfilled prophecy of the saddest kind. I hope you evolve.</span></em></strong></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></em></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I want to be overwhelming and not by intent but by nature. I am lusty and feminine and intense. I want to build a fantasy and indulge in the pleasures of it with</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: small;"> a real man. One who wants to be there. </span></span></span></em></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></em></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large; mso-spacerun: yes;">I want a worthy man. I will wait for him and believe in him. He will find me.</span></em></strong></span></span><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: large;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: x-small;">(written 2013, engaged to Steven Lee Worthington September 2015)</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: x-small;">Coming soon.... Mr. & Mrs Worthy xx</span></em></strong></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-81917103687789863962015-12-04T11:30:00.002-08:002016-12-08T09:56:13.304-08:00On: Rx: Self-help<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have an urge to share a story...</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> About 15-years ago just before heading off to become a student<strong><em> at Michigan State University,</em></strong> I started <b style="font-style: italic;">self-medicating; </b>it was always<b><i> </i></b>a bit of an indulgence, my secret weapon. Afterwards, I felt a variety of things that I liked: happiness, inspiration, calm; it was a way to harness chaos for me. Now, you might be wondering what I was doing to pacify my nerves.... we're getting there. </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I chose that phrase 'self-medicating' for a reason, I chose it because it has a negative stigma in tow, I chose it because I redefined it for myself, and I hope my story might help you redefine it, too.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This story is not dictated by my fear for worries. Perceptive is a powerful thing. This drug of choice was called writing and it didn't have any side effects, stigmas or regrets. It comforted me just like the warmth of anxiety and just like burn of alcohol but it was about embracing daylight and by giving my mind a creative, all-consuming activity, I rendered it too busy to roadblock itself.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I write, I let my mind spill onto a page and it's medicinal magic. I chose that phrase self-medicating so that anyone who may come across this story might have an opportunity to see the ability to see self-help and self-medication as positive synonyms. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is so much hope, there is so much physical and emotional first aid out there. </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Things that don't involve harming yourself or pumping your body with toxins until your pain is dormant for a short time. We both know it returns and usually more intense than before.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are so many people who dedicate their life's work to providing support -- I felt all alone, but I wasn't. I promise, YOU ARE NOT ALONE !</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am an empath, I have a fantastic and chaotic mind, I can wallow in inspiration and I can feel sadness, not just my own but other people's too. I feel everything with my whole body. But,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">being able to feel doesn't need to be the worst conviction ever handed out. Fighting your nature isn't always the way forward. By finding a healthy focus and embracing myself, </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I came to this: MY BOTTOM LINE -- my life has value and for that value to be real, I have to be the first one to believe in it. SO I earned and learned and battled for every ounce of self-worth I have. I took a journey and worked the greatest project of my life -- myself. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUGvQgMNbHlo8M5x2_F7-aJ0hLt4FAZd_lHKmRoEDUwg2SzjEFCQBbeID5BVwm-cIUUDk5oeLlwm6AfuJer_PhXhyCRAIu6DL9GwlCuiP0TAHFQwpTdP08J_V5Na-mKxR1CHCLKxHHDC5/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUGvQgMNbHlo8M5x2_F7-aJ0hLt4FAZd_lHKmRoEDUwg2SzjEFCQBbeID5BVwm-cIUUDk5oeLlwm6AfuJer_PhXhyCRAIu6DL9GwlCuiP0TAHFQwpTdP08J_V5Na-mKxR1CHCLKxHHDC5/s400/writing.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So when I feel anxious or sad or overwhelmed, </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I write. among other things, writing, for me, is a form a catharsis and a form of creative expression. I use my writing as treatment, I am treating a problem at it's source. I am giving my mind a productive job. I prefer this avenue as opposed any self-medicated adventure of the destructive variety. All those band-aid variety fixes are temporary and dangerous. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I truly feel I am more articulate in my life and with my friendships when I
can interpret the illusions and disorder in my own mind into a written format. I can
set my fingertips on the keys or pencil to a page and there is grace made of clutter and disarray. I can purge and create all at once. I feels wonderful.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Like a kite string with no tangles, pulling
effortlessly up towards the sky; writing takes the once white space of blank pages and makes it a testament that
doesn’t evaporate with distraction or impermanence. It won't disappear into thin air, but instead it
lasts and it’s meaningful; it's artistic. This thing is deeply therapeutic and it helps me medicate my mind and soul so that I can remain healthy and happy. FIND YOUR THING, it may help you find yourself.... </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">WRITING-- it comes <strong><em>Highly recommended xx.</em></strong></span></span></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-49795440162140654652015-11-23T12:21:00.001-08:002022-03-04T06:24:12.202-08:00On: My advice to younger me<em>A tribute to my friend</em><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I write letters, I think they are
the most unique and unrepeatable gift you can give to another person. It takes
time and creative verve to articulate feelings into words. It’s pure devotion. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">You should know that you are
beautiful, you have an innocent and hopeful soul, and you are my kind of people.
Each time we re-connect, I am amazed at how inspired I feel; you renew my faith
in people, in hope, and in living an authentic life. You allow me to see and remember
the value of disclosing our flaws, owning our mistakes, and the merit in celebrating
who we want to become. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have one chance
at human life and that mystery is gorgeous. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLe_AxxMXPtystanZiqSskwteB-iIIpkOXgV79Gvkp1tK38tWyjlXIunH8Z85VOWkzsjxdXHBYgkNzgdQmfuSsv7G8drc6cGS2aqEHpQe6ZScjkESzc_Cm8KVeeTNgSLVZV6Cg3FyubmGg/s1600/authen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLe_AxxMXPtystanZiqSskwteB-iIIpkOXgV79Gvkp1tK38tWyjlXIunH8Z85VOWkzsjxdXHBYgkNzgdQmfuSsv7G8drc6cGS2aqEHpQe6ZScjkESzc_Cm8KVeeTNgSLVZV6Cg3FyubmGg/s320/authen.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I celebrate you and the speed with which
you choose to learn and grow, take your time, Liz; it’s so worth it. Live to
the point of tears and live beyond your anxiety, transcend your fear and allow
evolution. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Learn to manage all the
harsh, complicated bits of life with grace and choose only the battles most
worth it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that self-medicating
works in the short term, but it was invariably harming me in the long run. So I
looked for non-medicinal solutions, I found other ways to manage stress and
calm my spirit and I tapped into the emotional powers which were always so
natural to me. As it turns out, those powers are what other people like refer
to as affliction; I disagree. The ability to feel, and to articulate those sensations
with words, movement, and expression doesn’t make me weak, it protects me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EHSATMl5IH0ULK01COA7eWov20IExL-RYw_I2HWMkL-sWkZW1XoUv4GQ5R4s79xfwDISB1DJqejTLTlb-brBapEoFJYBFpfGhASApmIV97ObxNJunlvxYe1voUlsKgVfrQLJmMtKgPuK/s1600/11280251_1637744369794790_1561552423_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EHSATMl5IH0ULK01COA7eWov20IExL-RYw_I2HWMkL-sWkZW1XoUv4GQ5R4s79xfwDISB1DJqejTLTlb-brBapEoFJYBFpfGhASApmIV97ObxNJunlvxYe1voUlsKgVfrQLJmMtKgPuK/s200/11280251_1637744369794790_1561552423_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I did some thinking about something
we recently talked about. You had expressed confusion concerning a man in your
life. You seemed uncertain how to accept the story as is truly was versus how
you think it should be. And my advice: All the best things in life are never
the way we think they should be; expectation is a dangerous ability of human
behavior. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teaching someone they are
worth being loved is a phenomenal experience, helping them accept that love with
patience and loyalty, well that is true commitment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d rather do that than have a story look
perfect on paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">This man loved before you and is in
part a victim of such experience. The thing about first love is that
afterwards, you will never again be able to feel love that very same way; the
first one is so memorable because it is unique. It is pure, hopeful, and naïve …
naïve being the most important part of the equation. When you surrender to the
feelings and stings of first love, you are vulnerable and more than willing because
you have never been hurt, you don’t understand betrayal in a romantic sphere
and your faith in that person is limitless. You will never again be able to
love another with that exact perspective because people have an instinct to
protect themselves; we evaluate our pain and build all types of emotional and
physical walls so we will never be made to relive that pain again. It sounds awful
but “experience is a cruel teacher” but experience is required of growth, it is
required to live on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Someone once told me the best advice
they had ever been given was: “Don't sweat the small stuff because it's all
small stuff”.... The not small stuff of life, I think know a little bit about.
And no matter how good and smart and prepared we are, we will never be ready
for hurt, loss or pain.<br />
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Love him and yourself until you are certain you are in the wrong place. He is
not a project, calm your competitive nature and love, loving is joy and even
when you don’t get love in equal amounts returned, it is joy. Be that joy. Be
love and be authentic as you always have been. Not every love story is flawless
from the first moment. Tell your love story the way it happened. Yours will be
unique and inspiring and it will rock you whole world; the thought of losing it
will knock the air from your lungs. You part in your current story is vital and
if this isn’t the love story of your live it, you will pass through a very
distinct moment when you know it’s time to let go. And if you were authentic
and loved because the love was deserved the pain of that loss will be converted
into fond memories and pain written over. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
My theory is to love others like you deserve to be loved. Do not love another
like a project, or someone to be fixed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are perfect just as you are and you
deserve to be loved that way as does everyone else who is bold enough to try to
love again. For now it seems he's been fumbling and flopping trying to love you
accurately; all while he hasn’t been loving himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe he will get there while you’re still by
his side and that would be exquisite. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
have both fought for each other and it’s less important to have a good story as
it is to have a good teammate. I met Steven online, not perfect or ideal for
some people but it’s our story and we have built a story worth telling, he the
best teammate, I’m done looking; he is exactly how it should be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><strong><em><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"Perhaps someday, I'll crawl back home beaten and defeated, but as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak and beauty out of my sorrow, I'll be ok."</span></em></strong></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><strong><em><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">-Sylvia Plath</span></em></strong></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">With love and light,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Annie xx <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-8129751754488059972015-11-13T10:37:00.002-08:002022-03-04T06:23:49.364-08:00On: My big sister<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Dearest Auts,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCwR4hhZbqeL6oLVkFVBVGlWXvhL3xvjPl6QQvj5TYoRxcim0I-tbJzykieiIllxscyA1hprYUgbYjD_ReqmTuo8bRLdBrKQb4NfvVIN7P3r3FCFYg3gx1zBAzYNZWXTCNpInG6IFwG17/s1600/judge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCwR4hhZbqeL6oLVkFVBVGlWXvhL3xvjPl6QQvj5TYoRxcim0I-tbJzykieiIllxscyA1hprYUgbYjD_ReqmTuo8bRLdBrKQb4NfvVIN7P3r3FCFYg3gx1zBAzYNZWXTCNpInG6IFwG17/s320/judge.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">You were my example,
I’ve watched you pass through the phases that make up the maturation stages of a young
life ... and by that observation, I have learned so much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Having a sister is pretty darn
cool. You taught me how to outsmart and outwit both situations and people. You also
taught me when it was necessary and wasn’t ... because sometimes, you said, "you
have to know when to wash your hands and walk away." You taught me how to make mistakes and how to convince everyone else that it had happened gracefully.You
taught me how to dance like both a teenager and our mom, you taught me how to do
terrible, unidentifiable impressions of people on TV and you taught how to
emulate style –even if it was Kurt Cobain’s… </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">You taught me how to extract the calm reaction out of dad and how to glide past mistakes while only freaking out in private. You taught me all kinds of things, you showed me a blueprint…a starting point and I’m so grateful, because without you ahead of me, I might still have my head up in the clouds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I fully looked up to you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I know I’m
gone, I left the nest and ran off to live my version of life and I know I have
missed many Christmas parties, and other celebrations, and I know that I can’t reclaim those lost moments to safely tuck away in the filing cabinets of my brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheifW7xPMjOqCMrupE1j8F5ZypsDAL-Oc6XoAVVqonQcr8cbjqfFvwm6aqg5kFhnZQtsFiZYsVMlNLKRhG57Uk1wedL0HgQiVaZAnmr4xtxrT2OBye1flz_hF7OvJnmvUu23Dleu45ymhh/s1600/i-love-my-big-sister-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheifW7xPMjOqCMrupE1j8F5ZypsDAL-Oc6XoAVVqonQcr8cbjqfFvwm6aqg5kFhnZQtsFiZYsVMlNLKRhG57Uk1wedL0HgQiVaZAnmr4xtxrT2OBye1flz_hF7OvJnmvUu23Dleu45ymhh/s320/i-love-my-big-sister-quote-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
Y<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">ou must know
that I miss you and I miss my family, but just because I can’t be there all the
time that doesn’t mean you aren’t always on my mind. Every teachable, shareable,
laughable moment that trips me up brings you to my mind. I share funny moments with you. It's a </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">private ritual, an homage to sisterhood. It’s a soothing piece
of the greater picture.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Like that
time in Paris while I looking at a famous sculpture -- I began laughing out loud because it was too cartoony for me to take seriously. Soft, rolling edges and dumb expression like Patrick starfish. IN that moment, I just knew you'd be more amused that in awe too. And another time, when I nervously walked
up to the camels in Abu Dhabi because you told me they would surely spit on me; or during my first trip to Germany, I asked some locals exclusively about their birthdays and if there was any possibility that they had an eraser in their pocket, because these were the words and phrases I had remembered from your German flash cards in high school …. (Der Radiergummi,tasche and <span lang="de">Wann hast Du Geburtstag?) I'm sure I sounded</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> eagerly ridiculous, but gleefully, I asked dozens of people and you were in my heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I take you everywhere .The people we love
make us brave enough to journey off alone—brave enough to discover a version of
ourselves waiting for exposure. And we know we can go home to tell the stories
of our adventures to them—and they will listen, laugh and ask to hear them
again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">
</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">You are with me whether you know it or not. I love you! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span> </div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-66337141434852973662015-10-28T12:07:00.003-07:002022-03-04T06:23:23.151-08:00On: Aspiring to be a STORYTELLER<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I have
many core beliefs. One of those beliefs is the idea that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong>"PRACTICE
MAKES IMPROVEMENT " </strong>perfect is subjective.<strong> </strong></i>As I sat practicing my writing, I drifted off into
my imagination, and I thought…have I always wanted to be a writer? The
answer is no. I had always gravitated towards it; I kept elaborate journals and
was painfully loyal to the books, quotes and articles that made me feel
something; I even studied journalism in college but there wasn’t this sure
feeling that I wanted to be a writer -- per se. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-OLz9cN7dpYziZ3BL1O-yPQiFquto2tTxIOOlYxK5QbLgERudoD5yiyOtzRo_bnixWAdxnWU2YHTn0C78Mi1tiboJqjVm2fsDn1i16ChWtQJPvA10e71fto0LftjzCJ2EBMD9NCD-oUh/s1600/self-improvement-books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-OLz9cN7dpYziZ3BL1O-yPQiFquto2tTxIOOlYxK5QbLgERudoD5yiyOtzRo_bnixWAdxnWU2YHTn0C78Mi1tiboJqjVm2fsDn1i16ChWtQJPvA10e71fto0LftjzCJ2EBMD9NCD-oUh/s320/self-improvement-books.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Now,
in retrospect, I see that I wanted to be a storyteller. To be <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CRYSTAL CLEAR</b>, that’s different than
being a writer. You can write about something and have it be informative,
intelligent, and educational even. But a story teller will write something that
transcends simple avenues of communication. A storyteller will connect, they
will relate, they will make a difference. A storyteller is the teller of stories, they can write informative,
intelligent and educational things, but they can also be brave, lively, and comforting.
THEY MAKE US FEEL. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Back
in the dark ages before Pinterest, I used to save articles from magazines. I
stored them in these page protectors and binders; (my original Pinterest
account is still at my mom’s house in a box somewhere—and furthermore, my
sister introduced me to original Pinterest and actual Pinterest.) These
articles that made the cut were so well written that I knew I had to save them
because I knew I couldn’t live properly without the opportunity of reading them
again. I also had this urge to share them with other people, surely they’d
smile, cry, or laugh—like I had done.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">From
a relatively young age, I became very loyal to what I liked to read; if I got
around to giving something literary a chance—definitely not fiction—and I liked
it, then I would keep it like a comfort object that would always be there for me in some capacity. Those
books and articles were so integral to the foundation of the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘me’</i></b>
that I eventually became, they made me more motivated to be the storyteller
that I always wanted to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">When
I was in grade school, I think checked out the same 2 books each and every
library day. As I mentioned, I was always loyal. So against my mother’s nudges,
I came home with “Oscar the Otter” or “Amelia Bedelia” and delighted in the joy of reading those pages. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would wallow in glory, it was magnificent how my loyalty to those words made me feel. I would transport into this
fantastic world were eventually a small smile would decorate my face. And as I closed the back cover on either book, I knew I made the right choice.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXhYshKwUfiPwgPuWzZXbxoMqZdKlGZS2IFKytBXVaWCgAF_1jVCHaeGlCGHMWMV8RKUtt1TNjfHKSM-lo6omOrDz-ydf39AT2nkBSamcvO56N1efNChrgIg02W6jpdNyoBPoR8C_Vx_8/s1600/quotes-writing-william-h-gass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXhYshKwUfiPwgPuWzZXbxoMqZdKlGZS2IFKytBXVaWCgAF_1jVCHaeGlCGHMWMV8RKUtt1TNjfHKSM-lo6omOrDz-ydf39AT2nkBSamcvO56N1efNChrgIg02W6jpdNyoBPoR8C_Vx_8/s320/quotes-writing-william-h-gass.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I
wasn’t aware of it then, but every time I </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">re-read the things I kept and kept
going back to, I realized that same small smile would visit my face. I always remembered
after the final period in the final paragraph why I was loyal. I would tuck it
safely back in place knowing where to look if I needed it. I came to see with
maturity and wanderlust that it was this ability to connect that I liked. It
was more than just smart, correct, competent writing. It was more than a wild,
fictional tale. It was human connection and relate-ability. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">So the morale of this story is,</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"> I
guess I didn’t really define what I wanted to be until I was older. My parents
raised me well; they asked what wanted to be when I grew up, like many parents.
They promoted things I was interested in and encouraged me to put great effort forth
as the only way to be rewarded, yet I didn’t really define what I wanted until
much later in life. Because <strong><em>I wanted something very abstract that was hard to
articulate.</em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">
Now ... I see the thing that came very natural to me was different forms of storytelling,
and then my perspective was much clearer. I’m working on it. I’m harvesting that
storyteller inside me ... the one that was always there. I hope you tag it, pin it, share it, post it or print
it. I hope you tuck this away safely in your back pocket or drawer or email box,
so that you can read it again when you need it the most.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">With
love & flare xx<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Annie
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-15250693496712628702015-10-21T07:20:00.003-07:002015-12-06T19:05:56.913-08:00HOME is where the MOM is<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;">My mom and I... we are alike yet very different, probably in equal amounts. In any case, we have a special bond; she raised me, installed my buttons and sure knows how to push them. She's a mystery, like I'm admiring a dangerous cougar in one moment and then running for dear life in the next. At this moment, it is my greatest hope to be as effective of a parent as she has been. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyczFri_Qr1mdN7pCn4K9iBCA3ttCWGJNvIPynLbyEwn-rEHQ6DNT2OuG305cUSQ7PpRwGNk3SjpDWvsxr6g6FxSnpN6fJYuj3XiQ1NqGm52z-6ZqPUi7i5RrySBSc8qeqji0ZqjlnJ43g/s1600/i_love_mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyczFri_Qr1mdN7pCn4K9iBCA3ttCWGJNvIPynLbyEwn-rEHQ6DNT2OuG305cUSQ7PpRwGNk3SjpDWvsxr6g6FxSnpN6fJYuj3XiQ1NqGm52z-6ZqPUi7i5RrySBSc8qeqji0ZqjlnJ43g/s1600/i_love_mom.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;">They are supposed to love you, but more importantly, they are supposed to raise you, teach you and leave you ready to leave the nest armed with all the important life skills rendering you capable to survive and thrive. CHECK!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">This morning we were driving together; it was a chilly, fall morning before the sun even got out of bed.
Even the sun has more downtime than her. "I'm just so tired all the time," she said. We were in conflict about what
temperature the car should be, I called her a post-menopausal monster, we both
giggled. </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">My poor
mother, her words were still hanging in that space with us. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">How do we get here, I wondered? How did we get to the
place where everything we do is stuff we have to do; where a holiday or birthday or
glass of wine has… ever so subtly …gone from a bookend to barely at all?</b> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg0jl7CnCtkYfLm7mj6aupYln1ikMDOduaZ1qmc91lb-6wlYsy8boO3fV3NeWMb9hPzA6qB_7K6q5C1Inx51EVsgKsj8QM0GjcunnIU-fYMDV0q-r_LaGWCcd8DQqqbMk-eEYDbK-Tk44/s1600/Mom-Quote-Home-is.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg0jl7CnCtkYfLm7mj6aupYln1ikMDOduaZ1qmc91lb-6wlYsy8boO3fV3NeWMb9hPzA6qB_7K6q5C1Inx51EVsgKsj8QM0GjcunnIU-fYMDV0q-r_LaGWCcd8DQqqbMk-eEYDbK-Tk44/s200/Mom-Quote-Home-is.jpg" width="156" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I guess as humans, we can contemplate our own demise
and as we get older, we have this sensation that prepares us for that day (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">well the possibility of it...</i>) where we can’t
work, can’t walk, can’t pay our bills. I know with each passing year in my life,
I’ve contemplated beefing up my sources of false protection, "huummmm…. maybe I
should get more insurance, a safer car, a chubbier savings account", and I don't have kids yet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still worry about
getting older, just in proportion to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I get it, I understand, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mom </i>--</b> there will be a
day when my kids and grandkids overwhelm me, too. The simple idea that I have
helped create something that I will always feel responsible for, is over whelming.
I suppose I too will have an innate awareness that I have to protect them always (far past the
point when they are doing it for themselves). I'm protecting myself, mom.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CkXddI1xwm46VUA-em6Sr7NrmAL0cGfQKWAeBhH2DYIxjnHCTwCRaLYVhP9Sh4CJ0RIYNlwNJhp4hNvRqmwe8daW16LEiOakEYEXamJgeFI8-qnooBKVJzBB8GHigAaCyO3MbMJ_4KhL/s1600/39522_10100359005561794_2495133_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CkXddI1xwm46VUA-em6Sr7NrmAL0cGfQKWAeBhH2DYIxjnHCTwCRaLYVhP9Sh4CJ0RIYNlwNJhp4hNvRqmwe8daW16LEiOakEYEXamJgeFI8-qnooBKVJzBB8GHigAaCyO3MbMJ_4KhL/s320/39522_10100359005561794_2495133_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Right now the idea of having kids,<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> freaks me right
out</b>. There is no way that could be real, is that going to happen to me? How do mom's do it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">You get older and you have to accept more responsibility,
that’s ok with me, but then you also agree to create more responsibility? I officially
have the next eleven months to fully digest that concept before I get married—note
to self—add it to the list. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Mom, I’m sorry I introduced you to facebook and the
iphone (mother’s day 2010) and any number of other things that suck at your very
precious time – the time when you aren’t
working or worrying about your kids and now grandkids. I am sorry for borrowing your time, for filling it up with trying
to learn yoga poses because I think you should. I’m sorry I put that kind of pressure on you. I'm sorry
I still don’t understand ... I certainly hope that I will understand; the day I sign up for parenthood. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">C</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">an I just say,
you are such a good Mom!</span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqbkGOTHoqdA6ywV2qTignK1ehgZhuqkdGujfoOIX4ld7uDuS-nHlEtQrD84arUvWy9dU8sbM6oWMqjZCca7ruYj8Xek6pqqoLJULdANWzWHBDK7nx9bA0fPKgR-y54Sg4wgUHKYrUMZo/s1600/IMG_2224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqbkGOTHoqdA6ywV2qTignK1ehgZhuqkdGujfoOIX4ld7uDuS-nHlEtQrD84arUvWy9dU8sbM6oWMqjZCca7ruYj8Xek6pqqoLJULdANWzWHBDK7nx9bA0fPKgR-y54Sg4wgUHKYrUMZo/s200/IMG_2224.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em><strong>Just know that I’ll do my ultimate best to live responsibly
and safely so that you can spend a little more time on you and a little less
time worrying, I also understand it isn’t your fault, it’s just part of being
someone’s mom. I love you xx<o:p></o:p></strong></em></span></span></span></div>
</div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-78705152952029706852015-10-20T12:04:00.005-07:002022-03-04T06:22:59.070-08:00An Open letter On: Mental Health<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Please read the prologue to this letter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="http://ionfire.blogspot.com/2015/10/mental-disorder.html" target="_blank">Read ME</a><br />
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</div>
<strong>
</strong><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">So here’s a
<strong><em>letter </em></strong>to myself, my brother, my cousin, and anyone who needs an advocate.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Dear YOU,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I know how you
feel, (I know … we’re not supposed to tell people that because it’s insensitive,)
but I’ve spent my whole life being overly sensitive and I just need to break that
rule. People need to feel like they aren’t suffering alone. You aren’t ALONE.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century";"><br />Of course I don’t know exactly how you feel. I can’t fathom the places you’ve gone and the exact amount of pain on a scale; I can’t hear your thoughts or know about your particular type of aftermath. But I can know that how you proceed—from now on—should be up to you. Your health is yours, as is your future. It should not be chosen solely by a doctor or statistic or range. How you prefer to feel should be up to you, and there are professionals with integrity out there who will help you achieve that. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I had to learn to love myself, it was a process. It was the biggest, scariest, value add I've ever known. To anyone, lost, tormented, confused or struggling out there, if you stumble upon this letter, know, I will be your training wheels. Like a favorite library book, I am here for you. I'll say it until you can say it without me. I love you so much ... and I will do everything in my power to make that love matter. If this is how I can show up for you, I will. I am here. If you let me, I'll send you a letter, a lifeline, I'll cheerlead.This is important.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDxSU0euk4qryGktCPBoRp9Z44lj4k7etrMLC-cBHoGxl4UIHOKbiq27dmFr7V15JtGVwQG43GB5qg4ZguNK2O6CpduzVaGEjX4gw0GkUiv3exGBZZ9YmCfHVdu9xbyV1el799KXQCdBb/s1600/Decide+Commit+Succeed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDxSU0euk4qryGktCPBoRp9Z44lj4k7etrMLC-cBHoGxl4UIHOKbiq27dmFr7V15JtGVwQG43GB5qg4ZguNK2O6CpduzVaGEjX4gw0GkUiv3exGBZZ9YmCfHVdu9xbyV1el799KXQCdBb/s200/Decide+Commit+Succeed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Think about
this: There are people who have been told they will never walk again, yet they
have walked. There are people who have been told chemotherapy is the only treatment for
their cancer, yet they have entered remission by other means. There have been
people who have been told they have 6-weeks left to live, yet they have lived
much longer. It's fair to say that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> n</span>ot everything we are told
by the medical professionals we trust is the absolute truth; there are always
exceptions and mistakes and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">there is
always hope</b>. Take charge of your treatment, care about yourself, and find
an avenue that works for you. Speak to your doctor, ask questions, and decide
you’re important enough. You have to want it the most.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I chose me, I
committed to me. I refused to believe I was a failure (looking back: I wasn’t a
failure</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">) but despite that truth,
every single fiber of my being felt that way. I felt a heavy emotional pain and
pressure on my chest. My self-talk, my thoughts, my fears, my hesitation, my
reflection in the mirror, everything that I felt, saw, and knew confirmed it. I
was depressed. It hard to explain depression but its such a real force.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jRJb6ye6rPDha-BKXaP4xQOGHa7-8YgV-HHLe3y7ovqFx1owsW1gkXZ7AlmNnGpu9ReCIMVNJkfmUwBTN2CBxopd1BCUixIK6iefCNppbmPzMyDL9YIGEEquojKCxEuYaK_q2TMWzMGk/s1600/overthink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jRJb6ye6rPDha-BKXaP4xQOGHa7-8YgV-HHLe3y7ovqFx1owsW1gkXZ7AlmNnGpu9ReCIMVNJkfmUwBTN2CBxopd1BCUixIK6iefCNppbmPzMyDL9YIGEEquojKCxEuYaK_q2TMWzMGk/s200/overthink.jpg" width="144" /></a><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Medicine helped
me not feel anything, which I preferred, for a while; I enjoyed the break from
me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being me is a tall glass of water,
the kind that gives you brain freeze. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Over time, I came to see that feelings
and emotions and my overactive, overly-sensitive brain was what made me capable
and brilliant and it’s what held my potential. I just needed to protect it and harvest
it. I had to </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">love and accept me in order start that journey. I needed to
live with balance and not allow my lifestyle choices to thrust outside of that.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdEzjpElWnKU4olF-dZ6VtfMv4aiguvufOO-4wj6VA-J3PM3HWMh_JY6gGXc5IE9USgFFGC5EOqlV8w5-RbYA4r6JQj8BOhVPw85OP_DUJtZ0qw55KOGKGqVLP1bxFdtCjDBv6eGyist_/s1600/137dec213eb4f68e686563ae22e075d4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdEzjpElWnKU4olF-dZ6VtfMv4aiguvufOO-4wj6VA-J3PM3HWMh_JY6gGXc5IE9USgFFGC5EOqlV8w5-RbYA4r6JQj8BOhVPw85OP_DUJtZ0qw55KOGKGqVLP1bxFdtCjDBv6eGyist_/s200/137dec213eb4f68e686563ae22e075d4.jpg" width="80" /></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">For me too much caffeine, too much sleep, too much food or too much
emotion are not productive. I learned that excessive behaviors and the “too much”
factor were my catalyst for offsetting things. I have to practice awareness and
balance. I need awareness and balance. I write, I perform, I express, I cherish
my creativity, but not excessively.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">For me</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> Depression</span></i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"> was easy place to go and hard place to
leave. It’s also a place that some people can’t relate to, for them it appears to be a state of self-loathing, something to be snapped out of. But it's not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">This incredible journey I have been on, it has been a selfish one, and I don’t regret a single
minute of it. Because NOW, I love myself, and I know my actual weaknesses as well as my full source
of strength; NOW I am capable of loving myself and others the way they deserve to be loved. I haven’t
felt depressed in 15-years and I have done that all without a single pill, this isn't to say my story should be anything like yours. The thing about illness of the mind is, effective treatment is subjective and what works for me may not for you. If standing on your head relieves your depression, then go with it, if you think it helps -- it does help. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I've learned, you can treat your symptoms or you can treat the underlying problem, the choice is yours; but if you choose to fix the problem, like I did, then you have to accept it exists. This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But denial enabled me to stay lost and in pain with triggers threatening my everyday life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Being a
performer has allowed me to siphon emotional energy into my work; my job makes
it ok for all that extra syrupy stuff to have a space, I’m not saying everyone
should be a performer, I’m not saying being a performer saved me, I’m just being candid and
telling my story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I believe we all
have something to contribute and until I do give something great to this world,
I will keep trying. Please share this post with someone who needs to be related
to—with someone who is someone like me and maybe you. ♥ xx</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><em><br /></em></span>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><em><br /></em></span>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><em>If you or someone you care about is struggling with the reality of having, coping with or adjusting to the presence of mental illness, please reach out!</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><em><br /></em></span>
RESOURCES:<br />
<br />
IN THE UK<br />
<span style="background-color: #f5f8fa; color: #292f33; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0.26px; white-space: pre-wrap;">08444775774 </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f5f8fa; color: #292f33; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0.26px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://support@anxietyuk.org.uk/">AnxietyUK</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f5f8fa; color: #292f33; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0.26px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
IN THE US<br />
<h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #353535; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 28px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin-bottom: 11px; margin-top: 22px; max-height: 1e+06px;">
CALL THE NAMI HELPLINE</h3>
<div>
National Alliance on Mental Illness</div>
1-<a class="contact ad-class" href="tel:8009506264" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-height: 1e+06px; text-decoration: none;">800-950-NAMI</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><a href="http://ideas.ted.com/how-should-we-talk-about-mental-health/" target="_blank">How should we talk about mental health?</a></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a class="ad-class" href="mailto:info@nami.org" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: ProximaNova-Light, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 22px; max-height: 1e+06px; text-decoration: none; text-transform: lowercase;">-F, 10 AM - 6 PM ET</a><a class="ad-class" href="http://www.nami.org/Find-Support/NAMI-HelpLine#crisis" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: ProximaNova-Light, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 22px; max-height: 1e+06px; text-decoration: none;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box; max-height: 1e+06px;"><u style="box-sizing: border-box; max-height: 1e+06px;">Find Help in a crisis</u></strong></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="ad-class" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 22px; max-height: 1e 06px;">or Text "NAMI" to 741741</span><br />
<br /></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-51124230547555388622015-10-20T11:07:00.000-07:002016-12-08T03:22:49.390-08:00On: Anxiety & depression; you're not alone<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I am someone who is naturally anxious and also someone who has survived through a debilitating phase with depression. I am someone who believes in treatment and recovery.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">
<br />
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I am also someone who has a brother who has suffered through psychosis which originated in axiety and sleeplessness. I have a cousin who took his own life. I am someone who is very much like more than a few other ‘someone(s)’ out there. I am not alone and neither are you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">
</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBA7nfRXJoIr2j_V_veJJYVsHlP7yZVV6yc_-T4eZNPegi7ZpsbegisNzq7vTm6k1QQHleL9vzXNoDoLF0R6GSm79Fw3KPm9ChQMDu4mV6E0JZ2bpRCKshnZpyuDSlariLvNkd4sniCq27/s1600/12167043_10107405629490954_1920728757_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBA7nfRXJoIr2j_V_veJJYVsHlP7yZVV6yc_-T4eZNPegi7ZpsbegisNzq7vTm6k1QQHleL9vzXNoDoLF0R6GSm79Fw3KPm9ChQMDu4mV6E0JZ2bpRCKshnZpyuDSlariLvNkd4sniCq27/s200/12167043_10107405629490954_1920728757_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I am not professional</span></b><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">, and I<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> AM NOT A DOCTOR…</b> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">BUT I am a communicator. I have something to say about the topic of mental health. Together we can remove the stigma! I have educated myself and want to start a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">conversation</i></b>
not just because of my personal experiences but because I feel somewhat let
down. I see a world afraid to talk about mental illness and health systems world-wide which are saturated with individuals not invigorated by helping
people overcome thier issues, but interested in treating symptoms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">In my opinion, many mental health
professionals act as <em><strong>legal drug dealers</strong></em> advising patients to medicatethemselves. Why isn't anyone investigating the root cause. So WE move forward feeling that medication<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> is </span>the only protection
from our own ill-functioning brain. Yes "we".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>In college, I was taught without REM sleep,
research shows, people will eventually die. First the dreams will be acted
out in reality through budding psychosis and hallucinations and eventually death is the outcome.
Our lives revolve around our perceptions; they are vital to our existence. In considering this idea, I wonder how drugs are even a solution to begin with. Drugs don't actually treat the problem, sleeping treats the problem. Science also shows that sleeping medication prevents the brain from going into REM sleep. How can we know these facts but still get guided towards masking symptoms with ineffective solutions? </em> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span>Furthermore, many of these pharmaceuticals have debilitating
side-effects and patients experience addiction. Many people feel the pharmaceutical treatments don't provide relief. Just like a hole in a leaky boat merely stuffed with debris, it is only temporary and fix stretched over a long-term time frame -- <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I think it’s</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">irresponsible --</b>
I think if enough people talk about it, we can change it. We can demand responsible care.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century";">On the other hand, we can not expect our healthcare providers to want our health more than we want it. If a smoker advised to quit smoking yet still sneaks cigarettes and a patient with diabetes still sneaks sugar, the most cost-effective approach to any burdened system is the easy way. We have to take charge of our heath and want the highest possible quality of life. This is when we can expect to be met in the middle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Our brains are
magnificent machines, so magnificent we still don’t understand how to fix them
when faced with this growing variety of mental "disorders"... Did you know that many psychopathic killers were found to be
mentally or physically abused as children; a trauma that changes the brain permanently?
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I think we deserve options and I think
we deserve to live optimistically instead of in fear. I think exercise, a healthful
diet and restful sleep have been better for me than any pill. I think I have an
anxious mind that is hardwired to over-process, but I think despite all of that, I AM NOT BROKEN. I am not a stigma. I am a person who wants to thrive.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDWATkcbYdYWK2mX10E9uebf4PSP9uG5gIxvSWOGf3XZBoOZJTq3jFfRQ3loe61EO0mrVQZbOKHQig9Ze_S09Yi4Os_npeZ-6tHc4iLn4comtvDNKIQV4LgAyj_siVIwY9VXWIsG0np2_/s1600/d300a4deaed266b64c885bb84bd7b3bf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDWATkcbYdYWK2mX10E9uebf4PSP9uG5gIxvSWOGf3XZBoOZJTq3jFfRQ3loe61EO0mrVQZbOKHQig9Ze_S09Yi4Os_npeZ-6tHc4iLn4comtvDNKIQV4LgAyj_siVIwY9VXWIsG0np2_/s320/d300a4deaed266b64c885bb84bd7b3bf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Take this example:
If someone were to break their leg, they can never go back to having an
unbroken leg; they may have pain, stiffness, and arthritis; their range of
motion may be affected. Their muscles may atrophy and they may need surgery or
rods; but the difference in the treatment they receive is that they are taught
and educated on how to return to the highest possible quality of life after
such an “injury”. They are given literature on how to tape or stretch the
injury, they are advised to try acupuncture or massage; physical therapy may be
an avenue or swimming. They have hope and a choice. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I think this is responsible.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I also think ‘mental injury’ and ‘physical
injury’ are very different and I think the implications of giving patients a
choice are widespread and not always an option especially without a proper support system. But even knowing
that, I still think we deserve hope and a choice. I still think there shouldn't be just one avenue.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Sue me. Educate me. Convince
me. Agree or disagree with me, but either way, let’s start a conversation.
People are falling through the cracks, and they deserve the highest possible
quality of life.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpl9FyWB_8uKVdOBkDX-KfabIg08DVfWpfysPCWreTis4UFOzv1OB7lqbQw1UcYHEbJaWd2V-uMpdbisMlaEeXKn5PYz2LCSFlA4wLcYjI2tD-u08nSQ8TGBy0priFlUb01rHI4NTHcH1e/s1600/tumblr_lh27uwbAZ61qb6t6wo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpl9FyWB_8uKVdOBkDX-KfabIg08DVfWpfysPCWreTis4UFOzv1OB7lqbQw1UcYHEbJaWd2V-uMpdbisMlaEeXKn5PYz2LCSFlA4wLcYjI2tD-u08nSQ8TGBy0priFlUb01rHI4NTHcH1e/s320/tumblr_lh27uwbAZ61qb6t6wo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I am ruled by my right brain, but it's not the worst thing in the world. It's beautiful! The world needs diversity of thought and approach. The left brain protects you, so I've just learned to think with my heart but bring my brain along for a second opinion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Accept yourself, find resouces, ask questions and mostly, you have permission to love yourself <span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>♥</span> xx</span></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-10090276732376211862015-10-08T11:08:00.002-07:002022-03-04T06:22:45.674-08:00On: FamilyThe I read somewhere that people are the real lotto tickets in this life, for a long time that stuck with me, and now, I too assert it to be true. People and their beautiful souls and the little bit of good they hold onto in themselves -- they are the real deal, in this lifetime. I want to meet them all and keep them s<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">afe in my pocket. I want to teach them things, and learn from them the things I haven't yet discovered. </span><br />
<div>
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<div>
And then I find myself thinking about, the people we are bound to and stuck with, FAMILY -- the ones we ache to understand and love appropriately.</div>
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I think we have it all wrong though, I did. family are those people who know you, not just OF YOU... they have known you the longest and have witnessed your evolution, they've pushed it and sculpted it at times. They have seen you before you boasted of being the kind of person a person wants to be; family has, at different times of different intentions,<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">lifted you up and kicked you down, they let you be or pulled you back from harm. </i></div>
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Those people have loved your potential before you saw you had one. Before you committed to yourself they were committed to you. Things get said, walls constructed but there's more to it than knowing just what to say and when. Sometimes it's tricky to forgive and find grace--do it anyway. It will always be <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">hard to view things from a perspective that isn't your own; we tend to be the center of our ideas, </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">fear and triumph. But the people who love and challenge us are not meant to operate from inside our minds, they are not meant to know what to say or how to say it. They help us build wings and deserve a little credit when we are ready to fly.</span></div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-63674614112358959932015-09-05T04:33:00.001-07:002022-03-04T06:20:00.162-08:00On: saying goodbye to the circus xx<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmfVgZJEb1THdNgT6OuCR8iqd4FRK35yQDcd9NaMHAjYyV4V04PSgPVfptZ5vYfn_3lylNdMeDvHJwJFLOxC7w5BcCLUSxg-zmi2EsXRkvh_add4TZWANJ2-tRhgVR-W0FN9hC29DhE50/s1600/iceshow-115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmfVgZJEb1THdNgT6OuCR8iqd4FRK35yQDcd9NaMHAjYyV4V04PSgPVfptZ5vYfn_3lylNdMeDvHJwJFLOxC7w5BcCLUSxg-zmi2EsXRkvh_add4TZWANJ2-tRhgVR-W0FN9hC29DhE50/s320/iceshow-115.jpg" width="320"></a><br>
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Sometimes the story has no ending... sometimes the story is part of everything you are
forever and one day. There is no manual for running away from the circus. What a journey! I have chosen to explore a fascinating
and wonderful world on an unconventional path. What a marvelous place to be
when I was learning life’s many lessons.<br>
<br>
How do you look at everything you’ve created and say goodbye; how do you do
it if one of those things is the fiber of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve spent most of my life knotted and tangled in love with a version of
who I could be. I have built and lost and rebuilt an identity; I don’t know how
I will ever be this happy. I wonder what will make me this happy.<br>
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What else will govern me? What will make me feel strong, feel determined,
feel beautiful? What will make me feel so alive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time I try to
articulate this, I can’t. It’s too big and thick and far too real to summarize.
I’ll have to walk away from this chapter and I’ll have to convince myself its what I want. <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXv-s3RbWgRXXNhKhND_eFE5cMWYcR80Yr15Igdv_naH5zmCDKoKmM9cpI8syMSIiirgmUHEFTcLwXYQE3LJtFYJxF-8Qu6lk1Rj016G7n-4fCwWDnwM6BiLBO-fqrIDgelXiRXushDX58/s1600/Fullscreen+capture3a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXv-s3RbWgRXXNhKhND_eFE5cMWYcR80Yr15Igdv_naH5zmCDKoKmM9cpI8syMSIiirgmUHEFTcLwXYQE3LJtFYJxF-8Qu6lk1Rj016G7n-4fCwWDnwM6BiLBO-fqrIDgelXiRXushDX58/s200/Fullscreen+capture3a.jpg" width="200"></a>Because of you, I know how to speak without words and I know
how to give without exchange. Don’t leave me. I was just 10-years-old when I
picked you. I cried and gasped and climbed and grew and it was my blood, and
pain that made every tiny minute of glory feel like heaven; all that pain and
all that immeasurable will and it began in a child's brain. I’d do it all over again; I would.<br>
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I sit here today wallowing in retrospect... and I think I may never be laced
in the pieces of a grand spectacle again; it's both cool and haunting. <o:p></o:p><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3N1SnxkA3fbfMJ9tdD5DXtvRQJZA62J-y7HwbyGCo2kZxQAl8y5TpFQwjmgF1EBX93BJ4FeHAI72GeiJ4ioJUYfDYmBGZvHiO7SjudOyT1WhS1P0odlFzeBwVrzeQXgDFcfhiJ7_zh3A/s1600/968877_10151874778210802_1860081051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3N1SnxkA3fbfMJ9tdD5DXtvRQJZA62J-y7HwbyGCo2kZxQAl8y5TpFQwjmgF1EBX93BJ4FeHAI72GeiJ4ioJUYfDYmBGZvHiO7SjudOyT1WhS1P0odlFzeBwVrzeQXgDFcfhiJ7_zh3A/s200/968877_10151874778210802_1860081051_n.jpg" width="200"></a></div>
I’ve been on these blades now for 2-decades and 6-years. I’ll tell you
everything. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was: tears and sweat and
broken bones. It was: thriving in a constant space of judgment.
It was: yes, and no, and I’m sorry; we’re sorry. It was: can you, could you,
will you...? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was: give us
more, learn faster, TRANSCEND!!! It was: think thin, be tall, and “oh,
can you make that flat footed, leather, boot with a wooden sole look pointed.”<o:p></o:p><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXsmBFZPe_8xFeUJ5ruuPd1_7iQUQBE2Li1QT_Er4Wq07c2yLek-Hh91TVknOeAcKPBwwbRvhswuwwPs_xHaWZCwJy_neL1GbAxcacVEkZhOhjBPh65ers_gsTo-6OaBjP1d1jfVY5uCu/s1600/969097_10151874796240802_578232010_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXsmBFZPe_8xFeUJ5ruuPd1_7iQUQBE2Li1QT_Er4Wq07c2yLek-Hh91TVknOeAcKPBwwbRvhswuwwPs_xHaWZCwJy_neL1GbAxcacVEkZhOhjBPh65ers_gsTo-6OaBjP1d1jfVY5uCu/s320/969097_10151874796240802_578232010_n.jpg" width="320"></a>It wasn't: about the money, or the travel or the wonderful, unique people
from a BIG world. But that stuff made it pure magic. All the additives made it
so damn captivating, they made it hard to leave. This sport knocked me down and
then it taught me how to climb, and how to do it vertically using only my
fingernails. It taught me about art. It was a mixture of overwhelming joy and
ill-timed setbacks. It was authentic and gritty but the whole bittersweet era
was perfection. I’m telling the story and I’m telling it how I want to remember
it. Just as it occurred, it was perfect.<o:p></o:p><br>
<br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVNx2ugPlAhkhbO4Vk-PiUCyMhImhPiO3JibmjogbAXlTZaYUGQ_8eDup-hf-9YlXuq7Ay_a2Wtk9p4ZegfreVysDwiq0A0pXn4M4Iv-uIfzvLUBbsHy1FI6c5FE5jqTH-n4eHOccuGdl/s1600/1012231_10151748335447416_1696129986_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVNx2ugPlAhkhbO4Vk-PiUCyMhImhPiO3JibmjogbAXlTZaYUGQ_8eDup-hf-9YlXuq7Ay_a2Wtk9p4ZegfreVysDwiq0A0pXn4M4Iv-uIfzvLUBbsHy1FI6c5FE5jqTH-n4eHOccuGdl/s200/1012231_10151748335447416_1696129986_n.jpg" width="200"></a>I pushed my way into places I knew nothing about, I learned control, check,
line, and edge quality; I learned how to land 5 different triple jumps in countless
variety. I learned how to fall less painfully because the fight against gravity
was a winless battle. I fought to be good over a pair of blades. It never
promised me anything. It didn’t promise me red carpets or important medals, but
fighting for something won't always get you admired. You won’t always get the
job, the girl, you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">won't always get
picked. </b><br>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"></b><br>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That was never the point.....</i><o:p></o:p></b><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp1hpzcmCT3eTCE3_36IZyOuR4HDHRxhEvKoj_URmFGM85LMR9HPb6_lKzLJEVc8jMQofDeB_5QD2QZdbk_06dB6V1ne4L6gVTAnt0DJc5lUWcrA5SifucB_WhGcBryc28cqueG4Ey-gi/s1600/Fullscreen+capture+7182014+115424+PM.bmp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp1hpzcmCT3eTCE3_36IZyOuR4HDHRxhEvKoj_URmFGM85LMR9HPb6_lKzLJEVc8jMQofDeB_5QD2QZdbk_06dB6V1ne4L6gVTAnt0DJc5lUWcrA5SifucB_WhGcBryc28cqueG4Ey-gi/s200/Fullscreen+capture+7182014+115424+PM.bmp.jpg" width="200"></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">“The hardest
most refreshing lesson you’ll ever learn is that LIFE has very little to do
with you. YOU get to SHOW up, you get to make moves. You get to touch lives,
but no, you don’t become the starring role.” -HB<o:p></o:p></span></b><br>
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And every tiny aspect in your life is the same. It was never about you, you’re
lucky to be a part of it. I was lucky to be part of this sparkling world and
lucky to meet my rare and unique accomplices. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TO THEM THANK YOU,</i></b> thank
you to each and every person who has ever shared a moment on the ice with me.
You have no idea how much I admire you! xx</div>
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<span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Photo By Steve Lee <a href="http://www.redboxstudios.co.uk/" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">www.redboxstudios.co.uk</a> By kind permission of Stageworks Worldwide Productions for the Hot Ice Show. <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.stageworkswwp.com%2F&h=FAQHIsWUQ&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">www.stageworkswwp.com</a></span></div>
<br>the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-26600825790497434932015-05-15T05:25:00.004-07:002022-03-04T06:19:41.368-08:00On: Falling in LOVE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzlBDf1WD7zl0KiI4wny7m2QYykJA2yYfIteZrh0oS7MI7IqRDzbaCN38lHLD0dA4rsbyX2Fi4rOd2t_sh4l0D0d9hUkGI1HKfezYIMrLCKBdr6Hn5CykAC2r4K_HshswJ9FbRooDSbIJ/s1600/12086808_10107351509966914_357409219_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzlBDf1WD7zl0KiI4wny7m2QYykJA2yYfIteZrh0oS7MI7IqRDzbaCN38lHLD0dA4rsbyX2Fi4rOd2t_sh4l0D0d9hUkGI1HKfezYIMrLCKBdr6Hn5CykAC2r4K_HshswJ9FbRooDSbIJ/s200/12086808_10107351509966914_357409219_n.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Dear You,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I woke up, wiped my puffy eyes and I saw you fixing your tie in the mirror. This feeling of pure devotion came over me; I began to cry. You came over and said, “don’t be silly, it’s alright” … I think you assumed my tears were because I was leaving, in less than 24-hours, I would be on my way across an ocean and the 'long-distance' part of most love stories gets a very bad reputation. </span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As tears delicately dropped from my chin, my mind was racing, but I was more than alright, I was feeling secure and empowered by our love story. This exact moment was one I had ached to know and suddenly it had materialized in front of me. I was wholly overwhelmed; I was massively in love, but also it was the safety and sureness that made me cry. </span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Loving when you’re ready to love is so inspired. because that love creeps into every breath and every cell that you are. That kind of love makes you feel like a super hero in conquer mode. And today I sat inside that truth. I gave in, recognized it and allowed myself permission to cry for it, I was “…living to the point of tears…”. That’s who I am. </span></span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">You should know that you are a brilliant man. You care for me and tend to me and make me feel calm. you indulge my senses and harbor my pain. You make me better.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">What’s more is that all those tiny bits across my entire young life that were spent heartbroken or stuck in the reality of any type of loneliness -- well those bits, have all been erased -- written over. What Joy? You are my reminder. I am so grateful. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Falling in love with you has been without equal. It is has been guilt-free whip cream topping. It has been like a cool breeze on a hot day; a day when the air is thick and it presses on your shoulders like only the invisible vapor of humidity can. I am safe now and I know your intentions are wholesome....as wholesome as the snowflakes that begin to fall just as I prayed for them. For me, you are the scene in a movie when your skin gets cold.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBcp-u1lUzl7RQe3g8PdO3awAbG48-ZtjRuLN3grG7TEjZBGI23rmamf4mRcWOoPbdNQ5U5Nm1Z8CGmvRjLpCi-MputC1u5YgQTZTjgmyc-eUDMhjSD0P8ekjzmqaltXqtopMJXv8wX2f/s1600/IMG_7302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBcp-u1lUzl7RQe3g8PdO3awAbG48-ZtjRuLN3grG7TEjZBGI23rmamf4mRcWOoPbdNQ5U5Nm1Z8CGmvRjLpCi-MputC1u5YgQTZTjgmyc-eUDMhjSD0P8ekjzmqaltXqtopMJXv8wX2f/s200/IMG_7302.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I have these moments, thank god for my moments. I happen to wake up while all of my dreams are still there with me. They are gently wafting around my head and I feel an intense awareness; they call it emotion. Emotion is her affliction they say, but for me, it’s one of the great gifts of humanity. I like feeling, I will never quit. I will use this affliction to make a difference and do good!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">This morning, I was simply trying to say something sweet and unrehearsed while my mind was translating those dreams. So instead of movie screen grace, you got sloppy American syrup and mascara on the white pillow cases.You got me, <em><strong>you get me</strong></em>, and I get you, how lucky can one girl be?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I love you to the moon and back,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> <3 Her </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
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<br />the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-84694571312385573512014-09-01T03:45:00.001-07:002016-11-11T08:22:33.884-08:00On: Bipolar disorder<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My gorgeous Mikey:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Your life is extraordinary whether it feels like that </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">or not.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I promise.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are so much better than any of the horrible things you’ll have to suffer in a lifetime. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The world may define you by adversity or triumph, but don't define yourself by those things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can’t imagine what your fantastic brain is doing now. The things that other people's brains can disguise or hide ... burry or break, well ours they can make a symphony of that stuff; a painful, wicked, e x h a u s t i n g symphony. I know you're tired; I’m sorry you’re stuck with such a lonely gift.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We just can’t help but to process and process our ideas until there are so many sub-thoughts the rest of the world has moved on. We toil and think and imagine until every cut is bleeding daylight.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Maybe right now this ability doesn’t seem so much like a gift, maybe it seems like a burden; but you can make grace of a mess and it will serve you. It will. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You have a wild, empathetic mind attached to the softest of hearts. You have saved lives with your empathy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I could read your mind, I would know how to save you; I would know how far you are from discovery. I could cheer you to the finish line, and rejoice, but If I could do that, I would know how to save myself. I know that may sound posh but you understand me -- <i>YOU</i> get me, you always have. I don’t have to explain my awkward analogies to you. Of the people I relate to most, you are on a very short list. I have never worried about how you’d handle adversity. I still don’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Please know that it’s okay to be mad and confused and lost too. It’s ok to feel like the people who are supposed to pick you up off the floor seem to be the ones who are </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">blocking your airways. It’s okay to ride your feelings and give exposure to everything you’ve ever thought. It’s okay to be mad at god and resent your mother and wish you could go back to the day when nothing made you want to crumple up the score sheet and start over again.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You'll get past all of the feelings. It’s okay to smile. Mikey, it’s ok to forgive. While you're at it, forgive yourself. We are not here to be flawless and we are not here to prance around with our trophies and well-mapped lives that perfectly match some supposed-to-be ideal existence, but you knew that long before I wrote it here. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I firmly believe that you will come to a place in your life, as most people do (at very different times, of different catalysts) where you can choose to be committed to your own truth—not the truth of your family, or society… nor the pact you have with your wife or the unwanted good intentions people shove on you when they show up just in time to see you suffering. But the version of events that allows you contribute something unique, something only you could. If you choose to be committed to your truth you will find your purpose. You will look in the mirror and say: “I accept my human life, my flaws and mistakes and compulsions”—you’ll just say—“I choose me”. And then you’ll fight and fix and improve and it’s joy—it’s pure JOY!!! It’s the best work you’ll ever know because when you are whole and you love yourself, the love you have to share is immeasurable. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Youth is a mess ...things happen, decisions get made and impressions formed and then one day, you open your eyes and clearly see everything that you’d do differently.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>That’s as normal as it gets</i>.</span></strong> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve known you my entire life. And you have been such a good slave to everyone’s versions of what you SHOULD be. And I don’t blame you for being exhausted. I don’t blame you for breaking down. But you should tell your story; tell someone... Tell everyone, and after you’ve purged everything, and spit out the blood from your mouth, remember that the people who tried to help you were the ones who never left. Despite how and why they fought for you and despite the insane measures and despite how much pain... please remember that those people are human like you and they make mistakes too. And when someone you love is frantic you can’t breathe, you can’t focus, you cant sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And mom, y</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">ou must know she loves you more you can even comprehend.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">She loves you beyond the moon and beyond anything words can express, the beauty of language is defeated in this paragraph. She would not breathe a selfish breath ever again for any desire of her own if you were suffering.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When you love someone as much as she loves you, nothing can save you from the devotion and insanity which compels you to protect them. NOTHING! And protecting someone is a perception, it's a desperate long-shot mixed with a little hope. Hope is a gorgeous ideal.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love you. Please know that we will always try to love and protect you as we best know how. If it’s not the right way at the right time at least take peace in the fact that effort is far more meaningful than perfection. You are brilliant and savvy and just fine. You will survive. I promise that too. I’m here for you. Give me your hand, tell me what to do. You are never ever alone.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">love, Annie</span></div>
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<strong>If you know someone suffering from the grips of mental illness, you can help, you can make a difference. Tell someone, reach out, find help. You are not alone.</strong><br />
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<strong>NAMI Helpline National Alliance for the Mentally Ill <span class="redText"><a href="tel:1-800-950-NAMI" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1-800-950-NAMI</a></span></strong><br />
<strong><span class="redText"></span></strong><br />
<span class="redText"><strong>National Youth Crisis Hotline <span class="redText"><a href="tel:1-800-448-4663" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1-800-448-4663</a></span></strong></span><br />
<span class="redText"><strong><span class="redText"></span></strong></span> </div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-52524910629378920912014-07-14T09:24:00.003-07:002016-11-11T08:16:39.403-08:00On: Grieving, to Gabriel<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I opened my eyes, half way, like every morning; I could hear
the roller coaster and faint screams, it was joy, right?!? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounded like joy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I could see curious beams of sunlight
sneaking into my room through the curtains that I failed to adjust properly at
bedtime the night before; the night before you left me, the night I wasn't
thinking about you. Why wasn't I thinking about you? ...Why wasn’t I imagining
your laugh, oh that laugh was contagious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I write this to say
goodbye. I write this to say thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3q3mR4kbzUF7egJso2fs5KIFfsnK2vfs5z5hbI-Q4Rk7xGyh7UeyJtwSaTPDS-Nf3PVvcLbf6MVQJd2QBHfLRPs9i3FSBNuAWG8JtiSwUwjdQ1PxnDe4nvP5uJ4D6luR3va6adDWH5I-n/s1600/gabe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3q3mR4kbzUF7egJso2fs5KIFfsnK2vfs5z5hbI-Q4Rk7xGyh7UeyJtwSaTPDS-Nf3PVvcLbf6MVQJd2QBHfLRPs9i3FSBNuAWG8JtiSwUwjdQ1PxnDe4nvP5uJ4D6luR3va6adDWH5I-n/s1600/gabe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Oh yes, I was telling you about the morning: back to that
morning. Come with me back to that black morning – mourning … <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the sounds were masquerading as joy, but they
had fooled me—I opened my eyes—not to joy, not to beams of light, but thousands
of painful stings like pricks of a million bees feasting on my heart, it was
awful. I guess we have a choice of what we want to feel, believe, and focus on.
I know what you’d want me to choose. It’s just really hard today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The night before the morning – mourning, I was thick in the
middle of something making me uneasy. On that night, when across the ocean the
grieving had just begun. I was drinking and thinking and trying to sort out why
my nerves were so strung out. It was you; they were strung out on you and I
didn’t even realize it. I was always intuitive and I have always hated not
knowing why I'm heavy until something hits me between my eyes. It feels
like a taste of hell …if I could just focus, if I could just draw an inch closer
to my feelings; my feelings are so intense, then I would’ve known, before it
knocked me over, before you never made us laugh again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Gabe, I cried for you, and I will again, until I’m done. But
I will also honor you and laugh for you and consider how you'd take in a
million situations you don't get to have now. I'm still breathing and I get to
have them, it's so unfair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Can I ask you something? Do you remember the skinniest tree you’ve
ever seen? Do you remember trying to hide behind it? Do you remember the gypsy's
and their straight accusations? Do you remember those mandatory blue booties and
leaving work to learn the art of wafting smoke rings from the drag of a hookah
pipe? Do you remember the red room in the condo with those 2 twin beds, do you
remember getting rained out with more than coffee in the coffee mugs? … where
did we park? Level 7 was yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Let's go to the cafeteria and eat terrible food because it
free. Let's flirt with mimes and commit minor crimes against a code of conduct.
Let's go buy discounted baked goods. Is it pay day yet? Torvill and queen and
tributes in blue jeans and who says I can't look good in a uniform?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I was putting on my red lipstick today, looking at the
mirror; not present in that moment. I was just replaying you in my mind. I feel
floaty (yes, I made it up, not a word, but you’re ok with that, right? and you’d
even go so far as to use it, too.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m aggressively
confused. I’m massively wounded. I’m without you. But you are in the cells of
so many people, you put yourself there and you will never be gone. My life
felt better because you walked into it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">In loving memory of beautiful Gabriel Leel, Thank you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-57621083762658021242014-05-29T22:18:00.001-07:002016-11-11T08:17:21.038-08:00On: Reinventing yourself<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the beginning, back to my earliest memories, I started out as any kid does, absorbing the world like a sponge. Except ... I was emotional and erratic as a child. I was blissfully<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> unaware; I was a dreamer.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span> I had this wild heart and I was unreasonably prone to the highest of highs and of course hit hard by the lowest of lows. I could be completely knocked off any course by my emotions. They would flood me and my clarity, I was captivated... mind, body and imagination.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then, I learned how people saw me, not just how I wanted to be accepted, not how I believed I was ... but how--at face value--I was received. The way other people see you shines a shade brighter than the person you think you are. This awareness began to develop at the tender age of 12, and It was then that I began a path to reinventing myself for the very first time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>"BEFORE YOU CAN reinvent yourself, you have to know who you currently are; people need to understand their strengths, their weaknesses, their passions and their own story."</em></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> <strong> -Robert Steven Kaplan</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So reinvention ... I had decided that I was going to be a fierce athlete, one that people could take seriously. It was a plan that manhandled me and created the greatest passion I can claim. A little background information is that I have always had attention span issues, my mind is visual and emphatic, my thoughts birth superfluous sub-thoughts and then I blaze a wild, fictional tale each and everyday before lunch time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was distracted, too curious and boredom was always my best friend as I moved from one thing to the next and from one thought to another. I had an ache for stimulation that ruled me. Skating was the one thing that forced me to focus, in order to excel, I had to cultivate an ability--an ability that was not so natural for me, but it was the one thing that kept boredom at bay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Since that first version of myself that I actively created, I've continued to chart the course that would gradually guide me to the person I wanted to be. I had become an elite athlete but before I could blink I had fallen several stories (storeys) to the ground. As I slowly stood up, I had to teach myself how to embrace my new role. My former identity was gone and I was now an 'average girl'. Nothing wrong with that , right?!? But there was no pressure on me anymore and I hated it. I began to learn about courage and I remembered how to apply myself. So with baby steps, I became a college graduate, professional athlete, and world traveler; in that progression, I had earned grace and confidence; the grace part I'm still working on ... but regardless, I kept pushing myself into new roles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, you ask?!? Well, now I sit with a beautiful responsibility on my strong shoulders. I am an artist. I'm not giving this title casually. I have admired artists for a long time and I have earned this title. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have long wanted to join the ranks of other artists, but it took a lot of old fashion effort and time to call myself a true creative, while also knowing it was fairly accurate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> And here's what I've learned: Being an ARTIST is not about you ... it's about climbing to reach a place that requires ego but at the point of delivery is less completely any ego. It's about what you have to give and share and not the applause you earn as you give and share it. An unrepeatable type of fluidity that pours out of those people who are bursting to express. It's who I am. It's who I always was.--a storyteller. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And when I come to the next fork in my path, when it's time to once again reinvent, I know that I can shine in any role I pursue because I know me, I work on me and I have been the best project I've ever known. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I type that very thought, I think about my daughter. I think about the little wild heart I haven't yet had. The future extension of all I've gobbled up. And one day she will be my source. She will be my best most challenging work. She will be a work of art with parts of me embedded in her. She will have embellishments that I inadvertently have passed on to her. And me I'll, once again, be reinvented -- a mother, a teacher perhaps -- with dreams that aren't for me anymore.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-7344154039329950362014-05-23T10:42:00.002-07:002016-11-11T08:23:23.056-08:00On: Jazz Music<br />
Dear Scotland,<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">I
have wanderlust, and you have perpetuated my sickness.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
It was one those nights, the onset felt something more like catching a flu;
just achy, heavy and happening regardless of my opinion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I somewhere between waking up that morning and
post-performance that evening, I had lost my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘joie de vivre’</i> but nonetheless, I had committed to going and so
that’s exactly what I did. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I stepped
one foot out the stage door, I left my funk right there on a sad, damp step. My night was underway no time for agendas. So I stepped on a wave and rode it until late or
early depending on how you look at it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
6-hours prior to the onset of that night, I was choosing something dramatic to wear.
My tone that morning was much more enthusiastic; I was looking forward to a night
out in a truly historic city. How exciting … good food, interesting people, and all the while looking and feeling quite fancy. <br />
<br />
Fortunately, it only took me about
three bites of gorgeous risotto to feel a glimmer of that original enthusiasm. We had wine, a carafe a piece. We had Italian food; we tried each other’s dishes and
laughed. I was tired and sore but being consumed by all the things that were taking over my senses; all the things that made the ick fade away.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-IuV3Xwkckai5i7lSUcENuyryhlyidx78ORJmF4VbPbE8vRIiFm48Q50bQGojJwg10RCQv_7WC8raYp_q-nk4BtQpsWnASHyjDX7puKnPFfqyyyTrr_Ro0mCcAYL0sjm_fb5R6MZ3On4/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-IuV3Xwkckai5i7lSUcENuyryhlyidx78ORJmF4VbPbE8vRIiFm48Q50bQGojJwg10RCQv_7WC8raYp_q-nk4BtQpsWnASHyjDX7puKnPFfqyyyTrr_Ro0mCcAYL0sjm_fb5R6MZ3On4/s1600/photo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Before long we wound up at a jazz bar. It was humid as we
descended a set of truly narrow stairs into the basement lounge space. The
memory of this part of the night is something I can’t shake—in a good way. The
music cutting the fog-like air; the atmosphere was thick enough to choke on. Each inhale
was coupled with the smell heat and old beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And all of this is a file in my mind that has no gaps - a movie - and I can
watch it as many times as I’d like. It’s just stuck there in the front lobe of
my brain.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
There was this five piece band… two guitars, a trumpet, drums, and a sax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had impeccable chemistry, this über geeky
appeal and messy hair. They had a liberal vibe; wearing T-shirts that only smart
guys who understand irony would buy. Those shirts were my first source of amusement ... things like the square root of a skull and where's Biggy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was those five guys that had me with agenda for the first time since the
evening had begun. I wanted to watch every set they were going to play,
that’s exactly where I wanted to be. They were daytime nerds with a nighttime secret -- entertainers. Every cell of me understood why they wanted to be up their doing their thing.<br />
<br />
The lounge had this strange set up with multi-level parquet flooring. At
least three of the walls were covered in different textures; there was rope
lighting and an insignificant, asymmetrical dance floor space. The tables and
chairs and seating didn’t match; best of all, there were ‘hipsters’ everywhere, and not the wannabe kind that the T-shirts and hashtags make fun of,
but it was as if the actual inventors of the hipster movement where underground
with me that night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
staring into a sea or a cult of similar-minded 30ish people, and they were my
kind of people. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOajDHh9xf77RLtV0IEZYBZLqUU8FyK8J_sD-52V9qrYDHf4aZQjqlKOv7XZ1T6ctV4s2AefIM1iVH_WWvtwXh7S8_GCdjV2CTmKBcp7bxB0Jn2WArWsMQlkpAn-9bI_7H-peQ6J6StdY/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOajDHh9xf77RLtV0IEZYBZLqUU8FyK8J_sD-52V9qrYDHf4aZQjqlKOv7XZ1T6ctV4s2AefIM1iVH_WWvtwXh7S8_GCdjV2CTmKBcp7bxB0Jn2WArWsMQlkpAn-9bI_7H-peQ6J6StdY/s1600/photo+4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Back to those 5 guys, and that chemistry; OOooooooh that harmony. I am a
performer and when you click with the people with whom you share the stage, (as
in you truly respect them and they you), there is a distinct chemistry the
audience can feel. It’s magical. I’ve painted entertainment with people who
don’t know the art of connection and it’s fake-- entertaining -- but not quite right.
When the lights snap on, if you can transcend yourself and all your normal life
woes and become what you are selling; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>if
you can breathe that dream and tell the story, it’s just arresting to feel so close to
complete strangers. It feels like they know you and they know how to massage your imagination and you theirs. <br />
<br />
Those musicians had connection and commitment to
each other. They probably had ups and downs like any other ‘family’ but they
surpassed it and were walking on a higher level. I enjoyed their music, wit
and even their weird Scandinavian dance track tributes.... but most of all I enjoyed their
chemistry!! What a beautiful thing to witness. They too get to transport away from the world's pain and they too get to make something original and unrepeatable. <br />
<br />
I kept thinking on repeat, what a beautiful thing to witness.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"On stage I make love to twenty-five-thousand people and then I go home alone." </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
-Janis Joplin</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<o:p>I guess I'm in the process of digesting another bit of what I truly believe. Authenticity is so important, and maybe even an art form. You must be who you are-- and own that. </o:p><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<o:p>You must love who you are with all of the bumps and flaws; and with pain as a teacher you must become as likeable as you deserve to be, it up to you! You must push for and cherish your potential at the same time.<br />
<br />
<br />
</o:p><br />
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<br />the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182270839503710187.post-45120843094730467152014-05-16T13:43:00.001-07:002016-11-17T07:05:22.014-08:00On:Meeting a good man!<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">
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<blockquote style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;" type="cite">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"What a man... what damn good man." How can I write this and not sound as bias as I know I am? He changed my life, and I will never be the same.</em></span> </blockquote>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbSW8EIVPRHWIme2-5W_iVD9_w4qbUB0_-zshTpRdOTugjwG5ZAylPY82DCTU7lGpRkOhRjdB8Ob9NSo1yujgxj-jB8VoHoCoC_Vs_QkglPeagybB2hbbzf-H1Ro7oyxuRsHFo8QDCTvj/s1600/do-good-quotes-pics-pictures-sayings-images1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbSW8EIVPRHWIme2-5W_iVD9_w4qbUB0_-zshTpRdOTugjwG5ZAylPY82DCTU7lGpRkOhRjdB8Ob9NSo1yujgxj-jB8VoHoCoC_Vs_QkglPeagybB2hbbzf-H1Ro7oyxuRsHFo8QDCTvj/s1600/do-good-quotes-pics-pictures-sayings-images1.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
Knowing someone is good, and good for you doesn't have to mean you they are so for any romantic reason. <br />
<br />
Allow me to be 'oooey' and 'gooey' and apologetically partial because sometimes people deserve that. Good people, especially them, they deserve to hear that they are good. And good is contagious; happy is contagious and we can spread those things around too. He did that. <br />
<br />
I'm sitting here in gate B8 next to a woman who seems to be a bit too cautious of germs; taking a wet-wipe from her bag she cleans the rim of her wine glass and rotates it two revolutions to check it's safe -- w e l l, 'safer'. I can't help but think about all the things we call afflictions; the fears and little bites of control that we keep floating around our beautiful, breakable lives. Those tormented and diseased, hopeless parts that taught us, grew us ...and then we can't be the same afterwards. YES it is possible that we can be better, and maybe even able to bleed daylight, but never ever the same. <br />
<br />
I am here to confess that sometimes you'll never be the same but not because of the adversity but because of the love!!! How gorgeous is that? And then all the other stuff that we hope someday someone will adore or at least find enduring is just small stuff that matters to only us ...on a bad day. <br />
<br />
<strong>I'll take it.</strong><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">
<blockquote type="cite">
<blockquote type="cite">
<span style="font-size: large;">Back to him, he's got the biggest heart. Just bleeding to share. It bleeds to live and laugh and include. Sometimes he gets lost in his popularity and forgets about you, but just as many times as he has forgotten, you can double that .... and you'll have the number of times he reminds you that he needs you, misses you, is there for you. </span></blockquote>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">He's a rockstar and a badass and he does things for his own reasons and not for any damn thing thicker than that. I haven't met someone who judges less than he promotes in a great while. How can you just be so debonair? He's polished and pressed, aware, alive, and GOD he's cool! He has vices and faults and somehow you can't really see that. He is suave, assured, and coasting well above his own adversity; funny and historically self-deprecating. If it's bad it's worth laughing at, and if it's good in any way, shape, or form, then it's worth sharing with everyone; worth sharing with anyone willing to suck on their tiny little portion. He'll save you a piece, don't worry. He makes you admire those he admires because if he spends his time there, then there must be something to see, to learn to love! </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKalXMosS6fm94yRp0i6G9U2akH_c4lV_Jizg99JwpmRmgBTrFuDejosX-EWnFK6e_odI9Gd8v8G1SoJj7PXKYPRApQiLHoxHKuoerGnEYtyR6kXGIxWjjdumRNBR1S6FfdYcUqdy1q5Pf/s1600/DSCF7193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKalXMosS6fm94yRp0i6G9U2akH_c4lV_Jizg99JwpmRmgBTrFuDejosX-EWnFK6e_odI9Gd8v8G1SoJj7PXKYPRApQiLHoxHKuoerGnEYtyR6kXGIxWjjdumRNBR1S6FfdYcUqdy1q5Pf/s1600/DSCF7193.JPG" width="281" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">You carried me ... and my bags .... more than 5 times a piece. You gave me joy, laughter and sarcasm. You taught me stuff - yep - stuff. You showed me that I could trust and more importantly that I could trust as fast and as meaty as I wanted to. </span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am built to love and see the good and give everything and you are my kind of people. I know I am not alone in the world just to have intersected with you. You gave me beer and caramel and brownies and then did the workout with me too. You gave me a boost and 50 reasons to be confident. You shared everything with me; the best of those things was you. You changed me and got me and accepted me. You made my world glow. Your my Whitney! It's a mess, and we're ok with that!</span><br />
<blockquote type="cite">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I LOVE YOU NEILL SHELTON! For one more day than always!</span> </div>
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the bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836539014099720886noreply@blogger.com0