Tar Heels and Mormons.
Posted on May 31st, 2014 @ 10:31 pm

I had to get out of the house today.  I am getting stir crazy and wanting to travel. My last minute plans fell through, with a reason I totally understand).  I ended up wanting to go to the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge.  I figured since I was going out to South Carolina, I’d go to Ridgeland, too, and look around.

I didn’t find the Jasper County Courthouse,  but I got a few good photos on Gopher Tortoise Square.  It’s a tine park.  It had lost of hibiscuses in bloom.  However, I may have lost my camera’s lens cap.  I hope it’s lost in my car.

I stopped at the South Carolina Welcome Center on the way to Ridgeland.  I am trying to stop living in my past in many ways, but one thing from my past caught my eyes.  I’m in Gamecock Country now and what did I see?  A Tar Heels Hat.  It brought the memories of North Carolina I was trying stop thinking about with a trip.

After my South Carolina adventure, I stopped at a friends home and talked to her for a bit.  Then, on my way home, I got another punch to the stomach.  I got some more bad news, which thankfully doesn’t hurt too much since I lived through it last year.  I’ve coped before and will cope again.  As I was turning onto the street that leads to back to my neighborhood, I had remarked I was going to have to call a 24-hour prayer hotline.

God must have heard my remark.  As I was driving into my neighborhood, my Mormons, as my father calls them, appeared.  They are LDS missionaries that serve my neighborhood.  I take the time to talk when they come to my house.  I may not convert, but I do find their devotion and missionary work interesting.

I feel like they showed up today because I needed them.  We had a quick talk about my news of the day and just burdens in general.   They shared a passage from the Book of Mormon with me and said a prayer.

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The Sunday Paper Route
Posted on May 31st, 2014 @ 2:20 am

There hasn’t been a moment you’ve been off my mind / I’ve searched through every meditation I can find

“Almost Everything,” Richard Marx

I need to go to bed, but I had a can of Coke earlier in the evening and now I’m waiting for sleep to finally settle in.  It’s not quite there for me, yet.

I don’t know why, but 1993 is playing over and over in the my head.  In same ways, it was a crappy year for me, but looking back, it wasn’t too bad.  The best times I had were with Nina and Ryan.  Ryan is long gone, but Nina is still in my life.

Another thing I did that year was work on a paper route.  Our neighbors at Bragg delivered the Fayetteville Observer-Times in the wee mornings as a way to earn extra money.  Nicki sounded like she had fun doing it, so I stepped in one time she couldn’t do it.  It was quite an experience.

We got up about 2 AM in the morning and headed to the printing press building, where fresh copies of the paper were waiting.  After rolling up and bagging some papers, we went on our way.  The route was out in east Fayetteville.  Ascot and King’s Grant were a few of the communities on the route.  It was there, in the Ascot community, did I finally start my dreams of being married.  However, it was peaceful and I saw a different side of Fayetteville.

I remember one part of the route was in the backwoods, so it felt. That one way creepy.  After a week or two of my helping on the route, the route shifted and the creepy backwoods homes were off it.  The realignment was due zip code changes in the area.

I ended up doing the Sunday paper route with the neighbors.  I would sleep on their couch every Saturday night.  After we moved to Savannah, and came back to Fayetteville/Ft. Bragg for one weekend, come 1 AM Sunday morning, I was awoken for the paper route. We were staying at their home and I was not expecting to deliver papers. I ended up helping them.

My payment for doing the paper route?  A left over newspaper to do my weekly Current Events assignment for Social Studies.  Back in those days :lol:, we had to take in a newspaper article. A physical copy made of newsprint.

Newspaper delivery wasn’t the only job I had that year at age 14. I would also baby sit the other neighbor’s kids.  I would make $20 a night in the summer.  Sometimes, Nina would stay with me and I’d split the money.  Since my mother was right next door, if anything bad had happened, she would have been right over.

I guess I just needed this off my chest.  Looking back now, I see that age 14, not age 20, is when I really started to work.  14, an age I cursed when I was living it, was really a great age after all.

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“A girl named Shawn”
Posted on May 28th, 2014 @ 11:33 pm

Sometimes, I wonder how people remember me.  Are they good memories or bad?  Am I remembered as “a girl named Shawn”?  Or is it “I once knew this girl named Shawn.  She…”?

I’m sure there are a few people that start off as “I knew this bitch named Shawn.”  I’m sure “There was this weird girl I knew once.  Her name was Shawn” is spoken, too.

Just a passing thought.

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Feeling Nostalgic
Posted on May 27th, 2014 @ 10:33 pm

An at the moment, this song is in my head. Not so much about a person, but a feeling the person gave me. He gave me a confidence that I was needing, but didn’t ask from him.

In other news, I am starting to plan some more travel. I find smaller trips over the longer vacations more satisfying to me.

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Life · Music · Videos

The Participant Ribbon
Posted on May 25th, 2014 @ 10:41 am

I only caught part of this video the other day, but enough that I did want to make a comment about its core principle. I am not going to talk about the video itself.

You see, when I was a kid, way back in the late 1980s, my school had a Field Day each year. I loved field day. It meant summer was near and it was an excuse to get out of the class room. Our field day was always held at the affiliated Catholic high school. Mothers would come out and cheer us on.

In first and second grade, I always got 2 ribbons. One was a white third place ribbon and the other was a green participant ribbon. They were jokes to me. Everyone got that green ribbon. The third place ribbon was a way for the volunteer moms could give every one a ribbon for at least the relay race. My class would be broken into teams, usually 4 teams. The first place team got a blue ribbon; second place would get the red ribbon, and all the other teams placed third. And ALL the kids had to run the relay. So yes, I knew that white ribbon was a pity ribbon.

I remember in second grade, I was crying because my sister, Nicki, who was only in first grade, had a red second place ribbon in an event other than relay. I think it was the Potato Race  It sucked knowing you weren’t that great at athletics. My mother consoled me about it, told me I was a winner anyways, and then promptly took us to McDonald’s for the other part of the field day ritual.

The next year, for Field Day, I was not expecting much for ribbons in count.  I knew I was going to get the relay ribbon and the participant ribbon.  This year, I was entered into the Potato Race.  I remember racing my heart out.  I thought I had won second place.  I finally got a ribbon of my own.  When I saw my classmate Melissa get the red ribbon, my heart was broken.  I thought I hadn’t placed.  I felt dejected.  I walked away to cry.  Next thing I know, Vic’s mother came over, asked me my name, and promptly wrote it on a ribbon, and then pinned it to me.  Maybe I had placed third, after all?  A white third place ribbon in something other than relay would be a big deal to me.

I looked down at the ribbon.  It was a blue ribbon.  A BLUE RIBBON! This was better than that red ribbon my sister won the year before.  I also remember my class walking by the bleachers where the parents were sitting to observe.  Next thing I know, I hear my mother clapping and jumping up and down.  She could see I had a blue ribbon on my chest, and she was proud and relieved.  Proud that I earned that ribbon.  Relieved that I wasn’t going to be crying after the end of the day.

As I got older, I cherished only the blue ribbon.  I got the white and green one for merely showing up.  I had to earn that blue one.  So I carried a potato on a spoon across 10 yards.  I did it and I did it before the rest of my classmates.  It was mine!

Yes, the blue ribbon, not the white and green ribbons, taught me about earning things and how earning things are rewarding.  Well that, and all the stuff I earned in school.  In first grade, if were earned the most amount of stars each week, we got a certificate.  Once I learned how to get one, I did everything I can to get one.  I think my mother ran out of wall space in my room at year.  I did the BookIt program because I loved getting free pizza.

Other the years, it has encouraged me. In college, I worked hard in school to keep my grades up.  It kept me on scholarship.  I was able to pay for a majority of my schooling via grants and scholarships.  I got a degree and my parents didn’t have the burden of paying for it.  My parents told me when I was 14 and I toured Fayetteville State University as a part of the National Junior Honor Society field trip that I would have to pay for my college.

And now, at my age, I am going to grad school.  How I am paying for it while paying for a car and a house? Again, the reward system.  My job has a tuition program.  For as long as I’ve been there, my employer will pay for the bulk of my degree, provided the degree is related to my line of work.  As long as I do well at work, I can get this reimbursement if I go well in school.  I have been working my tail off at work, and school.  It’s hard, but it was worth it when I got that A in that class.  However, I know if my work starts suffering, the degree goes on the back burner.  The degree won’t pay for my car and house at the moment.

To loop back to the participant ribbon again.  I know people that took the participant ribbon in their lives.  Those people expect the world to give them everything. They get mad when they don’t get what they think the deserve.  They are miserable.  They don’t appreciate what good they have in there lives.  A lesson in winning, as well as losing, is what field day is about.  It’s not the ribbon in the potato race that matters; it’s the lesson one received in getting the ribbon in the potato race that we all need.


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Head Scratchers · Life · Politics & Current Events · TV · Videos

Happiness Is…
Posted on May 20th, 2014 @ 9:51 pm

Making an A in your first graduate level class. Knowing I have been working on the never ending project at work, went on a cruise in the middle of the class, and questioning on if I made the right choice, this is a very needed grade to see.

Working on a Master’s Degree is just a hobby, believe it or not. It’s not a must have for my job.

In other small news in my boring life, I purchased a Holga Electronic Flash 12MFC flash. It’s a hot shoe flash. I’ve been taking test shots. I’d like to take it out to Bonaventure and play around with it on a few of the graves. I’d actually like to go on another photography trip.

And that’s an update for now.

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When I Feel Down…
Posted on May 11th, 2014 @ 11:34 pm

All I need to do is browse Craiglist and thank God!

I really do wonder about some of the people on that site.

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