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|Tuesday, June 26th, 2001|
I've been feeling dizzy now for about 3 weeks. At first, I thought it was the heat/humidity, then I thought it was a sinus infection (I don't know why I thought that). Current Mood: sleepy
So, yesterday, I couldn't take it anymore. I thought, what if I have a blockage in my carotid artery and my brain isn't getting enough blood? I mean my father had both of his carotid's stripped out, cleaned and sewn back in because they were so filled with plaque.
They ended up missing a piece of the plaque and it was sent through his arteries when they returned the blood supply. He ended up having a stroke because of it. That's not what killed him, but it sure messed him up quite a bit.
So, I'm talking to my doc about this and the possibility of inheriting his vascular problems. Since I have no other real risk factors... I don't smoke, I rarely drink, my cholesterol is great... he says, it's something to consider down the road... but for now, he feels that I have a problem with my inner ear causing my dizziness problems. The messages from my ear to the brain are a bit screwy.
I can be standing, not doing anything and then suddenly... like a wave, I'm caught off balance like I'm standing on a rocking boat. It's really weird.
It's kinda funny too, because people kinda freak when they see me suddenly move real slow in a certain direction... they must think I'm drunk (I wish).
It's been pissing me off more than anything. I mean I don't have any pain or anything... just sudden episodes of dizziness. Cutting the grass on Sunday, was different to say the least. On my turn around to start a new row, I noticed my previous pass was less than straight. It was rather funny... I made really neat designs in the grass.
So, he gives me this prescription for Meclizine which is supposed to help. It may have to take awhile to kick in, but since this morning, I've not noticed any difference. I'm a bit more drowsy, but that's about it. Thank God it hasn't effected my driving... except for that damn lawn tractor. :)
Well... my wife should be returning soon with a Wendy's double, fries and Frosty. I had planned on working in the kitchen installing the base cabinets... but it's so hard to stay awake and focused. I'll just call it an early night and watch a little TV and hit the sack.
|Sunday, June 24th, 2001|
|a wee bit of Scotland...
Yesterday, we all went to Oberlin, Ohio to attend the Scottish Games. We go every year and have a great time. So much to see and experience... we never end up seeing everything we plan to look at.
One thing really pissed me off... I rented this camcorder to take some videos of the days' events. Actually I rented this camcorder two weeks ago in hopes of taking a few shots to show the remodeling accomplishments of our house to my mom. My mom is house bound with emphysema and hasn't been able to visit us in close to 5 years. She is teathered to pump that creates oxygen so she can breathe. We also don't have air conditioning which she needs to help her breathe. This is one of the reasons why I am against smoking... but that's not the point of this entry.
Anyway... in the two weeks that I had this piece of shit rented, I was too busy with other things to make the tape. And so, for $22.00 bucks a week, this camcorder rested quite nicely in it's case in the family room. I called last Friday night to make arrangements to rent it for yet another week. This will total over $66.00 for something I had not even used yet... am I smart or what?
OK... opening ceremonies at the Scottish Games... the stadium at Oberlin College is filled... every bagpiper has been assembeled on both ends of this football field. There were approximately 500+ bagpipers there yesterday. They will march onto the field and play the same song together.
The camera goes up on my shoulder...
A new tape has been previously installed...
The battery has been charged... (note: no use to this battery in over 2 weeks)
Here come the bagpipers... and... the camcorder doesn't work. Of course... it's when I need it most, that it fails on me. Had it been my own camcorder, it would have been launched from the stands to the 50 yard line. This luck seems to follow me of late... I can't win for anything.
They marched onto the field with such precision... such music... it was truly awesome. They read the list of those who had passed away who were contributors to the Scottish Games since last years event. It was then that a single unit of pipers began playing Amazing Grace. Without further direction... on the second verse of Amazing Grace, the remaining 480+ pipers joined in for an incredibly moving rendition. My eyes welled up, as they always do, whenever I hear this song played by bagpipes.
I am reminded of my fathers funeral... graveside... and the bagpiper we hired to play. My heart could not have been in any more pain than it was at that moment. I was so moved by that bagpiper... his music touched my heart. Crying was not a good description of what I was going through... more along the lines of wailing. My hero had left me... the man who was strong in my life... in my heart... was no longer here.
Taken from me.
Not taking into account the way he had suffered with his illnesses... I wanted him here with me. Yet I'm sure he just wanted peace.
And so... the piper was playing Amazing Grace at his graveside... the military honor guard fired their shots in the air... and three jets passed over our heads with a deafening sound.
That will remain in my mind forever.
The pipers were finished on the field... and I had taken a small movie with my digital camera. But I wanted so bad for the camcorder to work. One of my daughters went with me back for looooong walk to the car to take the cameras back so I wouldn't have to carry them around all day.
The rest of the day was spent listening to music, eating food, buying t-shirts and souvenirs. It had been a full day, and we decided to make the drive home. We had passed several antique stores along the way and commented that it would be nice to stop on the way home and see what they had.
So, like moths to a flame, we visited two different antique stores and spent a couple hours walking... drooling... wishing... and actually buying a few items to take home. Such fantastic furniture we wish we could buy... but the cost outweighed our desires. However... with visiting both stores, we spent close to $400.00 on antiques. There is one item that I must have that we will return for this next weekend to buy. It was too large for our car and I will have to take my truck to bring it home. It is a HUGE framed picture of the 1929 graduating class of John Adams High School. This framed item is at least 4 foot square and shows the school picture of each student. Now, we don't know where John Adams High School is... and we don't know a single person in the picture. But being a photographer myself... and both of us antique crazy, this is a one-of-a-kind find. I really love old photographs, and each face has a story... you have to wonder how they turned out... if they are still alive today... were their dreams fulfilled in life. There is such history with that piece. I hope it's still there when we return. It's obvious that it doesn't mean anything to anyone else or it wouldn't be sitting there for that long... but I really like it.
So, yesterday was a great day... perfect weather... sunny skies... cool temperatures... great company.
And now... I turn my attention to yardwork.
Can it get any better than this?
It has been a great change coming here from where I used to live and work in Columbus. Even the people in my own department aren't that close to me. We just got a new boss in our area after our previous manager was fired. This guy has a really different style... one that I've never had any experience dealing with. He acts like a little kid most of the time... everything is a joke and he plays alot at work. I'm not used to that, so I've decided to just wait and see how this works with everyone. Others in my area think he's great, but something tells me this will be short lived and his managing style will end up biting many in the ass. If my ass is going to get bit... I'd rather have some say on who's going to do the biting.
I mean, it is my ass, right?
I miss the diversity of people in Columbus... many different cultures, racial backgrounds, sexual preferences... it was a very nice blend of people. Where I am now is such a thin cross section of America... country folk... and more of the older country folk at that.
I record CD's on my RealJukebox Player on my PC at work. Instead of having to lug CD's to and from work all the time, I just record them and take the CD's home. I like a variety of music... alternative to classical, celtic to club music. Anyway, when they walk into my office, I normally get some reaction to the type of music I have playing and it pisses me off sooooo much!!! When they hear alternative music, the reaction is that they expect me to me be shooting cocaine... a look of total disapproval. If it's classical or celtic music, then I'm a faggot and they will bring their hands to their chest and close their eyes as if to mock someone "absorbing the ambiance and texture of the blended rhythms... and whatever bullshit they feel the need to spout.
If it's club music... then I've really crossed then line... because that kind of music is what those niggers in Columbus listen to. And statements like that are met with the kind of response that they have never faced in their life. They can take their narrow-minded, racist, bed-sheet wearing thoughts, and get the fuck out of my office!!
Walk into any other office or department, and be prepared to hear knee-slappin', banjo-twangin', Skoal-chewin' country tunes. And nothing... and I mean nothing can make my stomach churn more than listening to some inbred, cheantin' heart, crap than that shit. But I never make a comment... never walk in playing an air banjo or reveal my look of disgust at what they listen to. I merely excuse myself and make it to the closest toilet and puke my guts out.
I guess I thought I knew what it meant to move so far from "civilization" when choosing country life. But I guess I didn't consider that along with the simple life... that I'd have to deal with simple minds as well. I accept the fact that I have to drive about 30 miles to the closest indoor mall... or almost 10 miles to get to a McDonald's. The culture shock has finally subsided... but the mentalities are something, I doubt will ever change. Current Mood: peaceful
|Friday, June 22nd, 2001|
My eyes are hurting... even though it's only 10:01pm, I'm very tired. It's been a long week. I took my contacts out early tonight. I just wanted to relax.
My wife brought our three daughters to my work today for lunch. It was a nice lunch. People in the cafeteria were so nosy... just staring at us like we were a side show act. I guess it's because I never eat in the cafeteria. I normally take my food back to my office, eat at my desk and surf on the net. I figure it's my time and I want to unwind. I'm under so much stress that I want my own time for me.
I don't have any friends at work. I've been there over 6 years and I don't have anyone to hang with and shoot the shit with. When I used to work downtown Columbus, I had two guys that were like brothers to me... great friends. We'd go out on Friday nights and get a room downtown and then go get shit-faced. Hockey games, shooting pool, meeting other coworkers at clubs and end up closing the bars... the good ol' days.
But here... there's no one. Men are a minority where I work... as are a younger population as well. I mean, even though I'm turning 40 next month, most of my friends back in Columbus are in there late 20's to late 30's, which I consider young.
I miss my buds so much. We email back and forth every so often... but that's about it. When I left the group to find another job, the others left too within a few months to other jobs and we have not gotten together very much at all since.
It's as if it were another transition in my life... much like college. My roommates from Kent State were also like brothers... yet we don't stay in touch either. One guy I'll probably never find again. He kept his background and life a mystery even then. I wonder how they all turned out.
Damn... I've been out of high school for 22 years! Things sure have changed since 1979. Shit, that is so scary... I feel old. There are days my body hurts and it's not from exercise... just from life. I mean I'm in much better shape in my life now than my dad was at this age... I rarely drink now for the past 6 years, I've never smoked, I stay active... although I could change my diet. I need to cut back on food and the types of food. I eat pretty good food most every day... two servings of vegetables every day for lunch along with whatever entree they have.
You know... I just stopped typing and scrolled back and read this... what the fuck am I saying here? I mean... where in the world is this going????? Damn... like I'm typing, for the sake of typing and just babbling about absolutely nothing. Twenty-two minutes later... and I haven't said one meaningfull thing.
Time for bed... what a loser. Current Mood: sleepy
|Monday, June 18th, 2001|
If when reading this, I seem to jump from subject to subject, it's because the kids are talking... rather loudly. Geesh... I can't think!
What an exceptional day it was yesterday! We all drove to my in-laws to visit for Father's Day. My mother-in-law watched our kids while my wife, my sister-in-law and my father-in-law went to play golf.
This would be my fourth time out, I think. I haven't played a round of golf in over a year. I enjoy playing... I'm not that good, but it is fun.
We had to wait awhile before we could go out due to the crowded course. So, back into the clubhouse for a hotdog before we leave.
Those golf carts are so much fun. My father-in-law was showing me some golfing etiquette. He's played for years and years. He always gives me good advice.
The weather was outstanding... a nice breeze and sunshine. I took my digital camera and got some good shots. My wife took a couple of me, but they really aren't that great, or I'd put them online.
On one hole, I slammed the ball all the way to the sand trap just in front of the green. That was over 250 yards... pretty cool. That was the high point of my golfing abilities. The other shots weren't worth bragging about... and actually, I'm sure I hit a house along the course. That ball took off from the tee like a jet and arced over to the right... to this enormous, plush house. I'm sure I'm, not the only one who's done that.
We returned back to the farm and the kids wanted to ride in the paddle boat... which they did. That water looked so nice... ducks cruising by and it seemed like warm water. I was tempted to jump in, but I didn't bring a change of clothes.
We ended up having a bonfire with hotdogs and marshmellows. I ate way too much... had a big 'ole honkin piece of watermellon to finish it off. I thought I was going to hurl... I was stuffed.
All in all... it was a very nice day. One to look back on and smile.
Happy Father's Day to me! Current Mood: peaceful
|Tuesday, June 12th, 2001|
|I told myself I wouldn't talk about this... but here I go...
Can someone explain to me why people say Christians and Catholics? Why is there a line drawn that separates the two? What makes a Christian different from a Catholic? Do we not worship the same God? Are we not all the same form of Christianity?
How are the divisions made... under the Christians, do we include, Lutherans, Methodist, Presbyterians, Prodestants, Seventh Day Adventist, Baptist, Jehovah Witness, Church of Christ, Church of Latter Day Saints and then Catholics?
I don't claim to be all that knowledgeable with theology (obviously). During my religious teachings, or catechism as it's called... I was not interested in religion at the time. I was young, foolish and bored with the whole thing. I was also led to believe that it wasn't important by my friends that attended the classes with me.
As I got older, I felt the importance for religion to be a bigger part of my life. By getting married and having my own children... I felt that I was part of something much bigger than my own warped sense of self-importance. God had become a definate part of my life. Now I have this need to know more about God and His works. My daughters have truly amazed me by their eagerness and willingness to participate in church related functions and religious events. They inspired me to look within my own existence and purpose... what God wants of me.
I see a big difference from the Catholic religion when it comes to Scripture. I see how many of the other religions quote passage after passage from the Bible... yet I wonder how much of that is truly heartfelt within them? Is it a testament to their religion that they can memorize quotes from the Bible? Yet I see these same people gossip and judge others... quick to anger and fail to accept others with their faults.
This is not a judgement of all followers of that particular religion. You cannot judge the group by the actions of a few. And who is right to even judge in the first place? And I look to my own church and the actions of some of the congregation... as part of the Mass, to offer a sign of peace and shake the hand of others within the church during the service and utter the kind words, Peace be with you. And then to see these same people race out of the church in the middle of the final hymn... to sit in their car and literally cuss while still in the parking lot at the "stupid asshole" who can't drive fast enough to "get out of their fucking way".
Yes... Peace be with you, my brother... peace be with you. For you have truly found the message of today's sermon.
I struggle with my dealings with the church. It has changed so much from when I was younger. And while I was not totally interested in the church back then... I know the importance it held for my father. He was an inspiration himself. I now see all the changes from when I grew up and the respect that was once there... to now, where it's more of a social event... where the church sounds like an auditorium with so much loud conversation before Mass begins. My blood pressure rises and I just would rather leave than to participate with these people.
I started out asking a question here and now look where I am.
I guess what I feel is... I know my feelings toward God. We talk daily. I go to Him... and I thank Him for another day of life. For another chance to try and make something positive out of whatever happens along the way. To try and accept people for who they are... not what they do. To not be so damn judgemental of others. And lately... that someone will buy my damn house. :)
So regardless of what I hear people say and bitch about the Catholic religion (that's NOT what I read here... just what I hear in the real world)... to me, there is no "right" religion. It's too personal and individualistic to group all Catholics into the Catholic box... or the Methodists into the Methodist box. I know what I want to say... but not sure if what I'm saying is making one bit of sense.
Listen to The Man
Love The Man
Follow His Word
|Monday, June 11th, 2001|
So much to say... so little time.
I guess I'll get my thoughts down first and then elaborate later... I have a computer class all day and have to drive into Columbus to take it. I should be getting ready, but here I sit... catching up on all my friends journals.I am having terrible back pains again. I know the reason, but it doesn't help any.We bought a new keyboard for the kids yesterday. With MIDI capabilities and PC interface, my daughters will be able to get more out of music than before.After I finished my two hours of cutting grass Saturday, I became terribly sick and felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. I have no idea what's going on with me, but it had me doubled over in the shower until the hot water ran out. It's eased off up to now, but it's still there. I haven't been eating much since then.The contract we have on the other house to buy runs out in 8 days. Why won't someone buy our house? It's like we live in a trailer park or something. Soon to come, a little website to show you my current house. Then you can explain why no one is buying.I HIGHLY recommend the movie Finding Forrester. I watched it twice over the weekend... cried like a baby both times at the end. Somehow it touched me.
|Tuesday, June 5th, 2001|
| Current Mood: tired
Irreparable invalid markup ('<align="left">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<align="left">Well, I'm screwing around with this damn journal trying to customize it a little. Right now it's pretty stupid looking. Hell, I paid for this for a year for the ability to customize it. But I'm tired and ready to get nekkid and jump into bed. Long day tomorrow... it's been a long week already.<p><align="left">Time to check email <i>because <u>someone</u> was supposed to send me a pic of themself</i>, but I doubt that it's there. Maybe I'll take my camera to work tomorrow and take a few shots. What the hell... throw caution to the wind!
This is what was inside my digital camera... I have no idea how... but it was in there.
I've been so bummed out for a couple weeks... my digital camera has been broken. I have a Sony Mavica... the kind where you put the disk in and it records right on the disk. It's not the top of the line digital, but it takes great pictures and you don't have to download them to the PC... just pop the disk in.
Earlier yesterday evening I called Sony to find out what I should do about my camera... maybe they had suggestions. They sure did... after checking their records, my warranty had expired and I'd have to send $180.00 to have the camera fixed. Wrong answer.
I was sure the problem was mechanical since the electronics worked fine... it just wouldn't acknowledge the fact that a disk was in the camera. So tonight, well, actually last night (since it's now 1:30am Tuesday morning), my wife and I went to Lowe's to buy subfloor and new carpet for a room I will carpet this week. I picked up one of those miniture screwdriver sets. I was determined to find out what was wrong with the camera. I must have had 10 to 20 of those little screws like they use on eyeglass frames all over my computer desk. I took parts upon parts off this camera. I figure I'd have to pay for it anyway to have it fixed... why not give it a shot.
I found this little piece of paper inside the camera. Didn't make sense to me, unless it was to reduce the friction caused by the drive head that goes back and forth to read the disk. I thought, what the hell... try and get it out of there. So, with tweezers, I began to very gently pull this paper. It was like that kids game of Operation. I didn't want the metal tweezers to short out the electronics while I pulled this paper. The more I pulled, the bigger the paper got.
To make a long story short... turns out this paper was one of those self-adhesive postage stamps with the backing still on the stamp. The only thing I can think of is that during my eBay transactions (I sell a lot of stuff on eBay), stamps must have gotten in my camera bag and eventually in the disk slot of the camera. All I know is I am soooooo happy!!! Time to take some shots around here of the work I'm doing to this house. Keeping up with the booklet I'm making on remodeling a turn of the century home.
This house was built around 1860. It's been a lot of fun remodeling it... keeping some of the old while adding modern conveniences.
Well... I can sleep better tonight. I can't believe I was able to fix it and put it back together. WOOOOO HOOOOO!!!!!
Current Mood: jubilant
|Saturday, June 2nd, 2001|
|down to the wire...
I broke down... I caved in and did what I promised myself I wouldn't do. It's been bothering me lately, actually for the past two days, about the recent turn of events. I'm thankful, yet waiting for something bad to happen as a counterweight.
I promised myself that I wouldn't reduce myself to old wives tales of selling our house. I had heard that if you take a statue of St. Joseph and bury him upside down in your yard that your house will sell extremely fast. I have a big problem with this as I believe it's blasphemous. Being Catholic, I have been taught to be respectful of my religion. Some people have a problem with Catholics and our religious icons. The story I get from non-Catholics is that we appear to worship deities other than God. Because we have stautues of the Virgin Mary, Joseph, St. Francis of Assisi, etc., that we are worshiping false Gods. This is the furthest from the truth. We do not worship false Gods... rather we look at the symbolism of the roles that these people played during the time of Christ. They are inspirational and are an example of levels of grace that we can model our life after. There is only one Lord... one God Almighty. And it is to Him that I pray to and offer my soul to.
The issue of burying the St. Joseph statue is merely a respect issue with me. I have asked for forgiveness for my weak state that I would be persuaded to be pulled by a tale of luck. Luck, plays no part in my beliefs or my religion. It is about faith and my belief that God has a purpose for me here. I have no clue as to my purpose, except that it has not been fulfilled yet.
So here it is... getting down to the wire that we will be able to sell our home in time to buy the other one. The owners have decided to remove their house from the market on June 19th should we not be able to sell our house. Their reasons are unfounded in my book... but it is their house and their decision.
I had heard from several different people about this practice with the statue. And yesterday, I received it in the mail. Last night, we held hands and prayed that our house is sold. Then I buried the statue according to the instructions (bury St. Joseph upside down facing the street and close to the for sale sign). I cannot believe that I am doing this. If my faith is strong, why then have I given in to this practice? Have I abandoned my faith in God to seek personal gain? While I am not praying to Satan, I feel as though I have let Him down.
The funny thing is that we mentioned our problems with selling our house to several different people at church and many of them recommended doing this. Even the principle of the Catholic school suggested it. They all said it worked for them or friends of theirs. Am I making more of this that what needs to be? I don't know.
By the way... after two weeks of absolutely no interest from anyone in our house... no showings... no phone calls... a couple stopped by yesterday wanting to know about the house. They were from out of state and visiting relatives. They want a farmhouse with acreage. While we have the farmhouse, we're only on a little over an acre. But the owners of the property that surround our house have expressed interest in selling additional land behind and to the side of our house. We have no neighbors to speak of... simply cornfield or wooded area.
Since we were not ready to show it, just returning from work, we asked them to schedule a time with our realtor. They seemed very interested and asked a lot of questions as we stood outside talking.
Makes me wonder about this statue.
Current Mood: hopeful
|Friday, June 1st, 2001|
| Medical technology has advanced once again...
recent breakthroughs now allow us to peer into the human body...
Behold... the image of the brain of the average man.
Current Mood: amused
|Friday, May 25th, 2001|
|Aren't we all capable of teaching?
There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at all her students and told them she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making big X's and putting a big red "F" at the top of the paper.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, it was required for her to review each childs past record... and she put Teddy's off until the last. However when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around."
His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She even felt worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper... except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children laughed when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a half full bottle of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she examined how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit receiting reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy had become one of her, "teacher's pets".
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she received another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he stayed in school, had stuck with it, and soon would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Then, four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he received his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now, his name was a little longer... the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
The story doesn't end here... you see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did.
On her wrist was the rhinestone bracelet that Teddy had given her for Christmas. Mrs. Thompson had also used the perfume that Teddy had given her... the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing their last Christmas together.
They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear... "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so very much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back, "Teddy... you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference."
|Thursday, May 24th, 2001|
One of the journals that I read frequently here is one of those sex freaks I spoke about earlier. She has this hot little body and pictures of her in different outfits posted in her journal.
The more I read it, the more I'm convinced that some guy has created this journal and is trying to pass it off as this girl. Damn.
It has been awhile since her(his?) last entry on the journal and I took the time to go back and read more into the previous posts. I was able to find where the pictures were stored on the Internet of her that are posted in the journal. Finding this out, led me to additional photos that were not included on LJ.
Rather juicy photos I might add.
But her constant reference to this one particular guy leads me to believe that this journal has been set up by this guy himself. Not to be sexist or anything, but the method or style of writing is that of a total bimbo... a real dipstick. Yet, she uses HTML and images rather cleverly throughout her journal.
What I get from all this is, this guy is trying his best to take on the persona of a sex hungry nympho who's dumb as a fence post, but the journal is littered with HTML too complex for fence-post-Sally. Also, the journal talks this guy up as if he were a god as well.
My problem with all this is that the fantasy is gone. Just as when you're old enough to finally realize when you're reading your older brother's dirty magazines, that those supposed stories that were submitted by female reader's of the men's magazines were actually written by some guy with a overactive imagination... it's a total let down.
I have my own erotic stories to tell... while few in number... they are nonetheless hot and more importantly, true. It is my hope and desire to continue to add to that library. As long as the fire remains burning within my marriage... I will continue to be adventurous, spontaneous and forever promise to keep that sensual flame burning. After 18 years of marriage, we still show affection... not that sick kind of smothering, touchy-feely shit that makes others want to puke. But we still spoon on the couch while watching TV... or hold hands while walking.
I'll continue to buy her sexy little outfits for playtime... and the funny thing is... after the kids have gone to bed, we end up falling asleep ourselves before we even have the opportunity to have those moments. So exhausted from playing the cards that life dealt us each day.
But those precious moments we have when we wake in the morning... still half asleep... and her warm body is against mine... all is right with the world.
And we start it all over again.
Current Mood: contemplative
|Tuesday, May 22nd, 2001|
|oh the pain...
I am in such pain.
My left hand, wrist and lower arm hurts so bad I can't take it anymore. I hope I'm not getting carpal tunnel. I've been reading about it on the net and most, if not all of the symptoms are exactly like what I'm going through.
It has been progressively getting worse over the course of a month. It seems there is no position that takes away the pain. I've been eating ibuprofen like candy and even some Vioxx that was left over.
Oh God... please... I can't go through this now. Please, dear God... not now.
I have so much to do at home and at work. This would be the worst time that this can happen. Damn this hurts. Really hurts.
I've been holding in a lot lately... trying to be strong. Trying so hard not to let my wife and kids see how our situation is effecting me. But I'm losing it... I feel like I'm losing ground. For so long I've been treading water... fighting... being the strong one... but I so want to quit. To sink would only hurt for a few seconds and then it would be over.
I feel like depression has returned to be my friend again. I can't get a brake. The harder I try to do what is right... what is good... what my father would expect of me... the more I get pushed deeper into the shit. What have I done to deserve this?
I have been told that God is not cruel... that God will not give me more than I can bear. I watched my daughter receive her confirmation this past week. My heart was torn... for one part of me was so proud that she accepts God so eagerly into her life... and another part of me questions why some are made to suffer. Are they made to suffer as a sign to others that we must maintain our faith? That even through the darkest hour... when we feel that we cannot take another step... when we cannot stay afloat... that we must believe... and He will raise us from our depths and hold us in His arms and wipe away our tears. How can I see this? How can I know what to write here... to say such things... but feel in my heart that I am one to fall to the bottom?
my heart is turning dark
i fear what i am becoming
apathy and dispair... can you have both? I hurt so bad right now.
As I sit here, I rest my wrist on the edge of the desk to type... slight twinges of pain shoot up my arm, but this pain is so much easier than what I go through with other things I do. This is a vacation from pain... a jolt now and then is nothing compared to the constant ripping pain I receive when trying to support myself to stand up... as I lean on my left hand to stand... the movement of my fingers causes my wrist to fold... the searing intensity is too much. I have dropped items today because of this torture.
I'll call the doctor tomorrow. And I know when I go see him, the pain will leave... and I'll be made to be the fool. Why is it the day you get your haircut is the day your hair looks the best? Your toothache fades when you walk into the dentist office... raining after you wash your car... a touch of Alanis' isn't it ironic... don't ya think.
So do I surrender... do I give in... do I talk to him again and ask for something stronger this time? I'm tired of the fake smiles... the false emotions... it takes so much more effort to wear the mask then to show what you feel... and I can't let them down.
i am so tired
|Friday, May 18th, 2001|
|CAUTION: Beware of AB
After reading Hillary's post concerning her recent enjoyment of WOW cheddar and sour cream potato chips, I hope those WOW thingys aren't made with olean. It wouldn't be your thighs to worry about... rather, making a run for the border would be of major concern.
Have any of you eaten products made with olean? In case you're not familiar with this wonderful breakthrough in foodstuff technology... olean is a supposed cholesterol-free additive that is used in place of nasty artery-plugging junk used in so many junk foods.
It's the work of science trying to pacify our desire for junk food, but secretly replacing the junk portion with chemicals of a modern age.
The only problem is, olean can cause major shit attacks. I speak from experience. This may or may not happen to you... but it has the potential to allow for projectial liquified fecal evacuation (ie; asshole blowout).
While some of you may mutter to yourself this guy gives way too much information, I feel it's my civic duty to warn others about the destructive force of AB.
AB afflicts many of us... silently building up pressure, and then... with tremendous force, we sometimes find ourselves inconveniently far from rescue facilities. Tragedy strikes... and another victim of AB is a grim statistic.
So if, you must satisfy that craving for junk food... read the label... be an informed addict... and stay clear of olean.
No one wants to read about you in the paper... another life struck down by AB.
Current Mood: crappy
|Tuesday, May 15th, 2001|
Waiting for dinner to finish up... I decided to sit here and spend a few minutes. My daughter tells me that she didn't win for secretary of Student Council. The girl that won was one of the more popular girls at school. She's not crushed over the news... I believe she kind of expected it to happen, yet hoped that this would have a Brady
ending to it. Fat chance.
As long as people will continue to play the lemming game, this world will never change. I see it even where I work. I read about it in the newspapers... apparently no one is capable of using their own mind to make a decision. The popular vote is still the key to any decision making. It's a shame.
I will not even comment on the presidential election... how ashamed I was to be an American through that ridiculous event.
We all seem to be followers... the media has such an influence on Americans.
There's a comic... I can't remember his name, but he states, Marketing is the worst job you could possibly have... no seriously... if you are in marketing... kill yourself. No really... do us all a favor and just... kill yourself. I have that wav file, but I can't find it... but I have to agree... through marketing and the media, we are told that we have to have this product... we neeeeed to buy this to fit in... what bullshit.
For instance... the marketing director where I work is such a slimeball... God how I hate people who schmooze up to people. Ass kissers... a line of bullshit a yard long. And this is the thing that pisses me off... our marketing director has never taken one single college course in her life!!! She has a high school education and has an operating budget of a quarter million dollars every year!!! She spreads her bullshit so thick... and the CEO just laps it up.
Don't get me wrong... I don't want her job... I had my fill as an art director long ago. I can't play the BS game, so I bailed before I started chugging Pepto-Bismal.
I was reminded by a co-worker the other day about the story of The Emperor Who Had No Clothes...
I wonder if our CEO realizes we can see he has no balls?
Current Mood: aggravated
|Sunday, May 13th, 2001|
I just uploaded a pic of myself for my journal. It sucks you can only use a picture 100 x 100 pixels. Mine looks dark and rather jagged. Have to have a better one taken. I see other pictures on here that seem more clear and much larger than this one. Time to break out the digital and experiment.
|LJ in a nutshell
I spent a considerable amount of time on here over the past two mornings. The first thing I do when I get on the pc is check email, then I check my tracker on a website that I created to tell me how many hits I have on it. The website is used to sell my house.
Anyway, after that excitement has passed, I turn my attention to LJ to see, first of all if anything new has happened with those on my friends list. I only have two on my friends list, but I truly enjoy reading about both of their lives. Even though we have never met and only know each other through the entries made here, I somehow feel a connection... don't ask me how, but I can relate to their personality, attitude and style of writing.
I also have a few other journals that I read who I would never add to my friends listing merely for the fact that they aretotal freaks
scare the shit out of mesex addicts
I view their journals for pure entertainment purposes. The sex addicts journals are fun because they enjoy posting nudies of themselves. What can I say... I'm a guy.
But for the most part, it's sad to read a lot of these journals. I would guess that most of the journals are from people between 17 to 25 who are pissed off at one thing or another. Most have school to bitch about or he said, she said issues.
As I stated as a reply to a post on a friend's journal, my life is far from perfect. I have my problems just like the next person. This journal is a way to vent that. Whether or not anyone can relate and respond is of no consequence. This is inexpensive therapy. With the possibility that someone can see something in our lives that we may have overlooked and point us in a new direction... or look at it from another point of view.
My parents were divorced when I was about 13 or so. They never communicated... not even enough to fight about something. I guess I found that by watching them and their failure to communicate (re: Cool Hand Luke), that I was not going to do that in my relationships. It's important for me to express my feelings and thoughts. My wife on the other hand is not as forthcoming in her thoughts and feelings as I am. I don't fault her for that... that is merely her way. But it's important for me... so this is a way for me to get it out.
At one point after re-reading things that I had posted, I worried that what I wrote might be boring. And then I thought... what? Why would I be concerned if what I wrote is boring? This isn't for others to critique. Hey, if my life seems boring based on what few things I care to share here, then too bad. Tough cookies. Sometimes I can be a real dumbass. I'm obviously not going to share all my thoughts, feelings and dirty little erotic intimacies that go on in my sex-deprived life. opps, one got out just now
Well... I've gone on long enough... got plenty of crap planned for today... better get moving.
Current Mood: relaxed