A couple I know are in the process of getting a divorce. More specifically, she wants a divorce, he does not. She filed. He argued. And two weeks thereafter, he asks her for sex. She says know.
Now...logic prevails to me that if she didn't want to be married to him, what would make him think that she wanted sex from him?
So he begins to bang on about how it is her 'martial duty' and that he could take it if he wanted to, regardless of whether or not she agreed, because she married him and it was his right.
HELLO? Ever hear of the word RAPE?
Now, gentlemen, regardless if you are married or not, if you force yourself on someone without their consent, it IS rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. There is no justification you can give me for it. I will not accept anything. You are forcing something on someone against their will. RAPE.
So, of course, what respect I've tried to have for this individual plummeted with an audible whistling noise that probably is akin to the sound of someone falling into an abysmal, bottomless pit.
And he says actions speak louder than words. He hasn't done anything. Not that he didn't imply that threat, but if we're speaking of actions, him hopping on the hood of her car, him stealing her battery to her cell phone, going through everything of hers and then trying to get her to make him food, do his clothes, and clean while she works and sits around and plays on the computer/Diablo all day speaks volumes, doesn't it?
We live here as a tribe. When we moved in, we moved in with a man, woman, and child. Our little group consists of my husband, my two kids, and my best friend that I've known from junior high (yeah....almost 20 years...). It was stated that when we moved in, we were a package deal. The house was big enough, they needed the money for the bills, so everything was kosher.
Three days after we move in, all hell breaks loose. She tells him to 'get out', and it's pretty downhill from there. Well, of recent, he as taken aside my friend and told her she needs to leave and that she have fifteen days to move out.
He called her out of the blue last night, in the middle of the night. She's been paying bills and buying food like the rest of us. He already approached me with the idea, which I shot down. "She goes, then we all go," is what I told him. So about a week later (last night), like a sneak-thief, he tells her she has to leave. On the phone. In the middle of the night when she's not even home (and he's on break at work).
(I can still hear the whistling sound.)
Actually, by telling her to leave, he's violating his restraining order because he is financially encumbering the household/realty. She doesn't want to leave, but is in fear of what he might do to her furry little children. For all the acting out he's done, well, I can't say she's not justified in her thoughts. She can't afford to really be out on her own and leave, but the situation around here is getting tense.
I really wish he'd just go. Not that I wish him harm or that anyone wants to screw him. It's been this way from the onset - trying to get him to go amicably and split up what's in the house that was theirs, have a working relationship which enables them to share joint custody of the child.
He has fought every thing every step of the way.
So now it looks as if it has to get ugly. There's not a lot of help for it. Till then, I'm stuck in this strange and twisted hell that one individual has inflicted upon an entire household. Hopefully things will play out for the best. And if she really DOES go (my friend), well, I'm not long to follow, I'm sure.
I cannot respect a person who wants to lord and master over another. I cannot respect a man who treats a woman (or anyone else for that matter) as if they were property. Or servants to be bossed about. Or children to be punished. I cannot respect a person who tries to flex authority for the mere sake of being able to show clout, causing angst and strife just because they are upset they didn't get their way elsewhere. That archaic, backwoods mentality should have been left behind in the last century, and more the better.
So we will see what happens. Till then, I'm really rather pissed off.
It just struck me as kind of cool. I dunno.
French prétentieux, from prétention pretension, from Medieval Latin pretention-, pretentio, from Latin praetendere
1: characterized by pretension: as a: making usually unjustified or excessive claims (as of value or standing) pretentious fraud who assumes a love of culture that is alien to him — Richard Watts> b: expressive of affected, unwarranted, or exaggerated importance, worth, or stature
I have an irritation plaguing me. It's one of those things, but it's okay. It's a small thing, like a rock in the shoe. Annoying, doesn't seem to go away, and sometimes you just can't quite get it out.
One of the pet peeves of mine, something I really hate, is watching people 'grow up' into something their not.
I'm not saying that people don't grow up. But... I have to say, that generally, one who is not raised around sophistication and culture has a hard time adapting, and a worse time understanding some of the upper class rituals in which the privileged partake. I'm not saying it cannot be learned...but I must say that it is a skill acquired through time and patience.
For instance, there are quite a few people who sit down at a formal dinner and have trouble with utensils. (And I've been one of those people.) If you're using twelve pieces of flatware and you're unsure which fork is used for escargot, but you've got it sitting in front of you, chances are that you haven't grown up with that kind of experience. Having the desire to collect those rare and interesting pieces of cutlery is an acceptable hobby...but giving oneself airs as if you were born with that silver spoon in your mouth, well, that's something you might want to think about.
The idea I am trying to convey is simple enough - don't pretend to be something you're not. Very few people grow up knowing what Belleek is, or understanding the motives of the Unger Brothers. (Personally, I would perfer the works of the Armand Frénay group over that of International, but that's just me, you see. I don't really care for what others love, I have my own visions of what is beautiful.) You can like beautiful things, you can collect them if you're of a mind to be materialistic - just don't think that by pouring money into something that others collectively think is 'elegant' that it makes you some sort of expert or attributes its own sophistication to you - these things are not learned by osmosis.
By strutting around and saying, "LOOK AT MY EXPENSIVE STUFF" makes you no better nor smarter than some pinhead 'celebrity' who rose to fame and fortune overnight and has an 'image consultant' pick out most of his wardrobe, or a 'designer' pick his goddamn furniture. You have money, but you still have no class, you still have no culture.
'Stoopid glue' (super glue) some peacock feathers on a duck and frankly, it is STILL a duck.
(yeah...I posted this from my other blog, because I think it got eaten...)
I suppose so. But the people-watching fascinates me. I saw something that was to be the apex of my evening. For behold, the floor moved as one unit and thus I realized the existence of R&B line dancing. Who would have thought it?
I know that a lot of younger people go there to hang out, but really, I realize how sad it looks. People either milling about or making fools of themselves on the dance floor. Reckless and drinking without hesitancy, the dim lighting and crowdedness somehow mutating into an excuse to behave publicly as an ass and have it be acceptable.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
I don't know. But I know where they wind up.
In fact, I think it was not the last anniversary, but the one before that where we went out alone. The night went smoothly and instead of collapsing in throws of passion on the bed when we got home....we just passed out.
The next day, my stepmother complained loudly about having to have watched the children (I have never really asked her before and now will never ask her again), which has always been my biggest fear was to foist my children upon someone as if they were a burden. I love my kids, and they are KIDS....they are not destructive (mostly), they are not rude or talk ugly. They just are kids, and they like attention. However, there are many in this world that are not 'kid people' and there are even more that have had children, went through the long haul, and as they get older, their patience and temperament sour (my parents).
So this year, with a gaggle of clan, I thought that if such a situation occurred, that they might be able as a group effort to herd the children for a few hours on my anniversary. Unfortunately, the brunt fell on one person who rose admirably to the occasion (although she is contemplating if she really wants kids).
I know what it sounds like. It sounds like my kids are brats. They're not. They're highly intelligent, they're pretty well behaved and they are curiously bright. The six year old is the top of her year class in reading, in so far as she is the first 1st grader on their Advanced Reader program and is reading at a third grade level. My eldest, who is 10 (almost 11), is part of the GT program, in the top echelons of her AR program, and was just invited to a leadership conference at the college. Smart kids. But kids have a lot of questions and need a lot of attention. They really take selfless individuals to give them what they need, and not dissing anyone, unless you have the responsibility of the well-being of another human and take that responsibility seriously, you have no idea how selfish you really are.
But beyond that....we actually get to go out. Wow.
We're in the car, and the conversation is as follows.
"So....where do we go?"
"I dunno. Where do you want to go?"
Ack. So, what do I do? I'm a shopaholic - I take him window-shopping. We go to several places, trying desperately hard not to talk about anyone or the family within the scope of our conversation. We go shoot pool. We go play putt-putt (the course was fairly uninteresting, save for the water hazards). We go out to a nice dinner (and I admit, that after 12 years of marriage, I am just not learning that although my husband hates cheesecake, the one and only cheesecake he will eat is key lime pie....which would have helped oh, I dunno, 12 years ago to know...) and then, out of fairness, go shopping for a few things for the household. I call the sitter, asking if she needs anything, and she informs me she's bought it all, don't worry, just come home. So we do. And we marvel to each other about how of recent, we might see each other outside of laying in bed five hours in a week...and we just got to spend an entire day together.
And the house is completely empty.
Now, for someone who is used to a full house, this is almost kind of dejecting. But we take it in stride, snuggle up and watch a cartoon (anime is STILL just a cartoon), awaiting people to come home.
Now, let me go back a bit. We're doing the window-shopping thing, and talking about the things that we like, what we'd allow in our home and what we wouldn't (we both have differing tastes in decor) and what we could compromise on. I would pick something up, then put it down, he would keep his hands in his pockets.
And he knows I'm a shopaholic.
So he asks at one point when I'm holding something, "Would you like that for your anniversary?"
Absent-mindedly, I set it down. "No...not really."
He cocks his head to the side, waiting for a response.
"I just....don't really see anything I can't live without. Or that I'm dying to have. Really...Some of it is nice, but it's really all just junk. I don't NEED any of it."
I thought he was going to fall out.
I'm just coming closer and closer to the realization of who I am, I think. I mean, it's something we constantly work on. But a lot of the time, no matter how expensive, when I buy something, I really just wind up giving it away to someone who seems overjoyed to get it. The stuff doesn't really matter to me. And the stuff that I DO keep, well, I realize that I'm not just wanting to keep it...I'm actually 'holding it' for someone else. Like the girls have some very beautiful handmade things, sewing and crafting, from old pagan friends which I have lost track of. But they are delicate, some of them, and to give them over now would probably sign their death warrants. So, I have them put away (I really could use hope chests for them) for them when they get grown and move off.
Silly, isn't it? But I realize my stuff isn't mine, it's in holding for someone else. At least, most of it.
Anyway...beyond my rambling, there's two points in there. Promise. The first is that no matter how long you are with someone, you still will not now everything there is to know about them (and my anniversary was the 16th...I've been marred 12 years now). And...now matter how long you're alive, you're always constantly going through self-discovery.
Yeah, this is a badly worded blog. But valid points.
One friend thinks it's a good idea to post nude pictures of his girlfriend on MySpace, in the efforts to keep the pictures privately on his profile for his own viewing pleasures. Several pictures, stripping and obscene to most conservative individuals, are uploaded.
Apparently this individual did not realize that unless he went in and customized his options on his friend updates, that regardless of the pictures being private, that ALL OF HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY on MySpace would be notified that he posted new pictures, and the pictures, in fact, would appear thumbnail-sized for all the world to see.
Not that I care much one way or the other for nudity. I really could care less if she ran around the house butt-bare nekkid singing "BORN FREE" at the top of her lungs.
Frankly, I don't care that she would mind to do it either.
But the idea of someone posting her pictures without her permission before a public audience is not only reckless behaviour, it is almost akin to rape.
Yeah, I said it.
I think of it as this way - when someone forces you to do something you would rather not do, or they take of you without your permission, that constitutes as rape. Regardless of whatever definition you choose.
So now that individual's significant other is wandering around this evening, trying to sort things in her head and probably plan a slow and painful demise for her partner.
Sorry, if I was on the jury, I'd find it hard to convict her. I almost went into an apoplexy myself. I love her, but if I'd never saw her naked in my entire life, I think I could live with that. And Gods know who's got her picture not to masturbate to. That thought alone is violate.
Anywho, the moral of the story? Think before you act. Never put anything incriminating in writing and never, EVER take nude photos of yourself unless your comfortable with sharing them with the world.
C'est la vive.
White and frothy
Cool and crisp
Oh my gentle slushie!
Of vanilla tenderness!
Sweet at night
Squishy so bright
Clear and fine
Smooth and Divine
Oh...my cream soda slurpee!
Yeah, it's a bout of silliness. Some things you just can't take too seriously.
Someone accused me of knowing the comings and goings of another friend. I was like, "Damn, don't you realize that I don't live in the same world they do? Sure, I have a summer home there, but that doesn't mean I can read their mind!"
Or watching my 10 year old have kittens over the fact they've scratched a game and it won't play. And she was bawling over it. It's...just...a...friggin...game....
Someone comes to me and says, "I have a question..." My quip? Before they can say anything, I say, "And I might have an answer."
Someone else laughed at my comments. I said, "Stand back. Don't get cut." He looks around, saying, "Cut on what?" "My wit," I reply. "It's sharp."
As one of my ex's is prone to say..."Don't take life to seriously...you'll never get out alive."
And as I am painting, I realize that I am painting over writing. The writing is actually measurements over the years of a young child named Cody. And here I am, washing color over writing, blotting over someone's history.
I'm of mixed thoughts of this. In one hand, I am helping someone else forge new memories in a place they bought to be their home, to raise their own child. On the other...I am obliterating someone else's memories of a place. It is both elating and pulling at the heart strings.
But I move like an automation, trying to make sure that the color is even, this cool blue as it lays over someone else's fading memory.
Time for the new.
Well, what's the saying? "Seen in it's true light, everything is a test."
I figured as much, being that I'm the noob and I really don't know a damn thing about some of the things that I have to do. I just keep hearing the mentor from the leadership program, "If it CAN be delegated, it WILL be delegated." I think I have to make this my personal mantra.
I don't think that the switch is so difficult to me, but I do like to LOOK busy, and frankly, no one respects a leader who won't do themselves what they delegate you to do, right? Or am I fishing here?
I have to wear dress clothes and my feet have been killing me. At one point, the boss even inquired as to what kind of shoes that I would be wearing. I think he was hinting about it. I couldn't find any of my utilitarian shoes (even in dress shoes, I buy flats or things which I can run in...), only a pair of dressy, classic black flats and I think I'm blistered. After day 2 like that, I bought some casual suede guy shoes.
Yes, I wear guy shoes. Chick shoes are REALLY unrealistic. Who the hell wants to run around on tiptoe all day? Give me Docs over Mary Janes any day.
And I don't get the double standard, just to digress. Men wore make-up in Egypt. Men carried purses in England. They wore velvet and lace and heels.
And today? Hell, they get beat up for it, or worse. Much worse. I've no respect for five self-guessing homophobes where it takes FIVE of them (did I mention five?) or so to beat up some scrawny young man who is wrestling to learn, understand, and accept himself for who he is. But anyone who would do such a thing has a streak of violence and cruelty, and any that have tried to worm their way into my circles have been dropped in a hot minute.
And it doesn't stop at just the guys, I assure you.
Regardless....I think today was just a day to rant. I hurt, I'm under fire.
What was that Noobler Elf? Yeah...your hero's quote.
"Nobody is in control. Not the government. Not the Pope. Nobody." - Terrence McKenna
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
*Your blog is cool, so I'll do you one better - I'll post it on my MySpace too.
And here are the six random things about myself:
1. I have a strange talent for finding cool things. It is completely random, regardless of whoever I am with, and it suits their tastes and is generally at a fabulous deal (reasonable price). I can be in a flea market, a junk store, in a high class department store or a rummage sale. Whatever. I'm pretty lucky to drag out somewhere to find something you're looking for.
2. I am highly observant. Things that people don't generally notice or see I can recall with clarity. If there's a traffic accident, more than likely I can recreate the entire thing verbally or drawing a picture, also explaining in detail the color, texture, and additions on the sweater the little old woman was wearing. Often down to the jewelry and hair style. Sometimes this is good, because it helps 'feel people out', but other times it is just information that doesn't seem to have any use.
3. Anything with more than four legs is NOT my friend. I like snakes, I can deal with bats, lizards, mice, whatever...but if it's skeleton makes up the OUTSIDE of it's body, I'll run screaming like a little girl. Maybe not the screaming part, but I will disappear suddenly for a prolonged period of time (unless the offending creature is caught and flushed or disposed of in some form or fashion).
4. My favorite cartoon is the Fairly Odd Parents.
5. I love to take pictures, but I hate to be in them. Picture-taking, photography...you have to have an eye for composition. It doesn't have to be people either. I love to try at it.
6. Weird things set off my artistic mind. I see art in wood grain patterns, art in shade and light. I see the potential of items before me for art, whether its a garbage can of crap or old bathroom fixtures. Somehow things generally get incorporated into my creative escapades.
I tag....Sterlin, Katherine, Jaymi, Debbie, Jessica, and Kristie
I don't know if you find that amusing or not. But I thought I'd take a shot at it.
People are accustomed to the things they know.
SO...with that in mind...it is unfortunate, but the blogging continues on MySpace...because apparently I can't get people to read over here. Well, not many anyway.
So if you have a MySpace, go ahead and add me...(notes are appreciated). My ID is knottybynature and the email is firstname.lastname@example.org.
So show me you care and drop by. :) It's being published there on the right side of your screen.
The husband says of all the places he's lived, Kentucky is very green and mountainous. I like that idea, really. But wherever we go, all I am thinking about is the college, the schooling. We really should have never stepped off that track.
But life happens, doesn't it?
It's almost time. Things are coming together. I feel a little off of center, but that is because I think that the things which were holding me back have fallen away. This is good, I think. We'll see.
Not that it isn't fabulous trying to keep up with the math portion of things in the classroom, but my mind doesn't do well with the figuring part. All I can do is sit around and sniff markers, trying very hard to listen to what is being said.
And yes, I CAN sniff markers...they're scented markers and non-toxic. So there. :P
After class, my brain isn't working well enough to read anything of substance, so I thought I'd pick up The Witching Hour by Anne Rice....I think I've been pretty disappointed (but I'm into self-inflicted pain...I'm still reading it...), because frankly, one character is introduced and you get like a 40-100 page essay on their background...oh well... maybe it's relevant to the ending.
I can't wait to go to the 'green' store. Apparently it's a tester for sustainability, utilizing all sorts of renewable methods of energy and all sorts of other nifty things. There's only two in exsistance to this kind of extreme, and they're seeing if they're feasible for incorporating into the later building of the stores. It's awesome. Can you imagine what kind of wonderful we'd have if every major chain of store/services/etc. decided they'd 'go green'?
It is a wonderful idea, but don't get carried away with it. Don't take what I'm saying wrong, either. I've seen plenty of people who went wonderfully green and became pillars of the community. Then there are those who become so absorbed as to lock out the rest of the world - face it, it's easier to believe you're being 'ethical' towards something that can't speak for itself, no matter what other damage you do. It's easier to have that one-sided relationship than it is to build relationships with people.
But let's steer out of those dark waters.
I think I've been putting off going to my home store because really, I'm scared. Nerves and all. I wanted to go tomorrow, but my dad quite logically pointed out that if my sponsor (the store manager) has to be there on monday, more than likely, he's not going to be there tomorrow. Makes sense. So I'll get my clothes ready and hope.
I bathed my poor car and sucked out all the debris from the floorboard. I don't think I've been as attentive to the last several cars I've had. I just didn't take much stock in their physical appearance, as long as they ran. But being that I'm having to buy this one for so much, perhaps that is what unconsciously goads me into taking better care of it. I still haven't unpacked from the four weeks I've been away...somehow, I just dread pulling all that shit out of my trunk.
I haven't got to see my sister or mother yet. They are STILL without power since Ike hit. Apparently there was some sort of verbal exchange between my brother and my mom and sister, so they decided that they'd overstayed their welcome and went elsewhere (to one of my mother's friend's houses...not sure which). I am feeling a little homesick, and hopefully soon I'll be able to see them. Although my sister are a lot like water and oil sometimes, I really long to see her.
Randomness - anyone know where I can find Spaceballs merchandise?
I was not disappointed.
It was a monolith to both bookwormies and greenies alike. The damn thing was probably some gutted grocery store, because it was about three times as big as the one that is in downtown Houston (off Montrose area). So when I checked out (I bought books for my kiddoes, it's been a few weeks since I've added to their collection), I commented on how large the bookstore was.
"It's the largest one there is," the lady said laughingly. "In fact, it houses our corporate office upstairs. This IS the homestore."
That probably would be heaven for me. An endless library of books, all that were, all that are, and all that would ever be, lavishly decorated with interesting artifacts and museum pieces. Bedecked with comfy couches, pillows, fireplaces and lush atriums.
When we 'axe' you to come over, it is because we are in the back yard, throwing axes at a tree in the attempts to fell it on top of the house while we're drinking. It is not a literary device of slang which forumlates the actual word 'ask', that most people who use the 'axe' substitute are too damn lazy to pronounce.
The focus of diversity is an oxymoron.
When quoting the movie "Blazin' Saddles", it is not okay to quote some of the lines aloud, no matter how damn funny they are.
Just because they make it in your size, doesn't nessecarily mean that it fits, nor that it is MEANT to be in your size. There is something unwholesome about having a thong in a XXX-L size, personally. Or even a bikini.
And in regards to the last thought and other ones which could coincide, there are just some things you can't un-see.
How narrow-minded. How shallow.
Let's face it, folks, most of America is split between the 'haves' and the 'have-nots'. The majority of Americans can be considered the 'have-nots' and stereotyping the neo-pagan community as such is the sign of a narrow-minded individual.
Firstly, in my own personal experience, the 'poor pagans' are generally out of the broom closet. They live in such a way as they do not generally care who knows they are pagan and they either do not advertise it, they wear their markers discreetly but don't parade it, or they wear their symbols proudly and will share their beliefs with anyone and everyone. The 'haves' in the pagan community, well, they have had a tendency to be much more subtle about sharing their beliefs, because the fact of the matter is, they are the minority and although we are a country that preaches 'melting pot' and diversity, there is a lot of prejudices in our culture, specifically against the words 'heathen', 'pagan' and witch.
I also believe that this 'poor' trait stems from something much more fundamental in pagan beliefs too. The majority of people who declare themselves pagan, openly or in the broom closet, well, they don't really focus on money, do they? They focus on the family, the tribe, and the importance of community, many things which are base in our beliefs. Having a savings account filled with thousands of dollars or a good IRA is one thing, but the majority of us would spend our last pennies to make sure that those we have in our 'tribe' are fed, clothed, and have a roof over their heads.
I have never personally been 'well-off' or blessed with more money than I really know what to do with. However, when wealth and abundance has blessed me, I have fully extended that, shared that, with both friends and family in the order to make their lives easier. To me, my family was more important than a huge bankroll. To me, my friends being okay was worth more than a brand new car.
Hurricane Ike is a grand example - you can have it all, everything you ever wanted (this example being on beachfront property), and have it taken away in an instant. What then?
I think this myth-conception (yes, every pun intended) is through the misunderstanding of our true values. Most people become pagan because of heritage and tribe, not dollars and stocks. Most people become pagan because they have a need for family, for understanding, and for a sense of fellowship and community. You don't need a 300 dollar wand, you don't need a solid silver incense burner.
As for business practices and professionalism, frankly, if you hire anyone that isn't a well-established business with references, you're playing russian roulette with whatever you're project is. If you're specifically hiring the pagan community and you don't take the same issues into consideration, you're setting yourself up for defeat and you're propagating a stereotype. There are a LOT of self-employed people who do really good jobs with references. Dumb you if you choose an individual who isn't because you choose them out of their religion and not their references. Pagans get hired all the time, and just like any other faith, race, or creed, you're going to get your slackers and poor people. They're across the board and not limited to faith.
So before you go on preaching about how much better you are because you've chosen to be successful, make sure you have the understanding of the community and society as a whole before you bang on about the pagan community. There are plenty of pagans who are successful and just because you don't see them easily doesn't mean they're not there. In fact, I am on several newsgroups and am stunned that I seem to be the only one without a degree in something (which soon I will work to change).
Stop and think before you open your mouth and show the world you haven't.
We used to camp out on Crystal Beach. Little fire, driving across the sands. People didn't really congregate there and no one really bothered you unless the fire was too big.
But now it's literally 'all gone'.
It puts the whole 'stuff' idea into perspective. No matter how much you have, or how nice it is, it only takes a moment for it all to be blown to smithereens, unrecoverable....gone....gone...gone.
People put too much value on stuff anyway.
I can't say that I don't have a lot of stuff. I have an overabundance of stuff. Books I haven't read in years, trinkets that I've collected. Crazy stuff. But oddly, a person will say, "Hey, that is SO COOL." And then I'm like, "Take it. Please. Here!" And when they look dumbfounded that the object of their admiration is in their hands and really, really theirs to keep, I just laugh and tell them to take it or it's going to get thrown away anyway.
I mean, ballcaps, for instance. I've bought about 6 in the past three weeks, and I bought them all on clearance. But they're cute, and people like them, so it doesn't hurt me to give them away. Like one is brown and says "Treehugger" (the one that I'm currently wearing is pink and actually is a Guiness hat....never saw one in pink...), or something. What did I pay? 3 bucks. What does it cost me to put a smile on someone's face? Three bucks.
I think I get off relatively cheap. And it makes someone happy.
No master's degree here, but I make it. Maybe someday when I get the opportunity to go back to school, and I WILL go back...it's just a question of when. Right now just trying to get my ducks in a row, which is all that anyone can do. Till then, surrounded by friends and content in the way things are going, which is always good.
Till then, I'm trying to work to being a more active Seeker. Gods help me. :)
this blog is just a random place of mine. if you look to your right, you'll see a feed from my myspace account. it is where i do most of my posting. but maybe i'll eventually use this space.
if something brought you here, i hope that you find what it is you are Seeking.