However, what some people see as compassion others I see as giving an eternal break.  I vehemently oppose rather think it best to err on the side of caution when it comes to giving the practicing abuser (of anything, drugs, alcohol, people)  chance after chance after chance to get their act together.

Well.... I suppose I would be more willing to give "multiple chances" if the abuser was an independent person.  For example no spouse and especially no children involved.  There comes a point where it is in the best interest of "third parties" to move on and too be cut free from such a poisonous life style.

I have see all to often persons SAY they will do such and such or even that they love their children but their actions don't change.  Still violant.  Still abusing.  I can HEAR what they are saying but they are SHOWING me something quite different.  How many times is enough?  How many months are enough?  How many years are enough?  I suppose that answer can only be answered by those dispensing "compassion" (aka, the enabler).

While I firmly believe that each person was created for a specific purpose I do not believe that if that same person decides, through repeated acts of their "free will" to live a self absorbed, self serving life style that they necessarily need to be "rescued" again and again.  In fact in some circles that would be called "enabling".

I believe that there comes a point where the (proverbial) line has to be drawn in the sand.  If the abuser makes the choice to  cross the (proverbial) line "the next time" then the abuser has made their choice.  So called compassion in these cases are for naught.

There are only so many hours in any given week.  There can be only so much money available.  Each situation has to be evaluated too determine who gets the extra time and money.  Will it be the "serial abuser" or will it be the innocent(s) tied to them?

I, for one, have determined that I will err on the side of the innocent(s).

This (whole saga) reminds me of a story in the Bible where Jesus the Christ (HIMSELF) sends his disciples on a journey.  He tells them not to take anything with them.  They will be cared for by those they tell of the Savior.  Jesus ends His "dispatching orders" with some very condemning words for those who refuse to even listen to the messengers.

You can see the the story below.  I've taken it from my PC program QuickVerse 6.0.

Additionally, I have put a link to Sanity's blog if you care to look at "the battle."

Sanity's blog

Those Who Reject the Message

Those who rejected the twelve and their message were rejecting Christ Himself. People today are faced with this choice. They accept or reject. Those not for Christ and open to His message are against Him. There are those who, rejecting the messenger, consider this not rejection of Christ but only rejection of a person. Christ told the twelve that to those who reject you (the messengers) “when you go out of that city, shake off the very dust from your feet as a testimony against them.” (verse 5). In Biblical times, the Jews, upon their return to Jewish soil, would shake the dust off their feet as they left Gentile soil as a symbol that they had broken all communion with Gentile people. Therefore, Christ’s instructions to the disciples to “shake off the very dust from your feet as a testimony against them” would be a solemn judgment on the people of the unresponsive town. In this instance, as well as in the parable of the “sower,” we learn that as messengers we have the responsibility to “proclaim,” not to determine whether one is going to be receptive or not.

Morgan Stanely and Goldman Sachs have been named holding banks by the federal reserve in an article by the dealbook.blogs.nytimes.com.

In the same article the investment banks such as Lehman had a debt to equity ratio of 30 to 1 and Bank of America is 11.75 to 1.

That is like asking for a $3 million dollar loan on a $100,000 house.  They wouldn't even look at you and they are doing it themselves and the calls are coming in.

That is why Paulson and Bernanke are spooked and that's why they need coin now, margin calls.

1929, the year that wouldn't come back is here.

The bail out won't help.

Nothing will and the feds know it.  They want to band aid it so they can get out while the going is good.

Leverage and margin calls, the oldest story in the book coming back to haunt us.

If you found this blog and think you know me, if you are the person with the HUGE backpack on the way from Fort William to Inverness on september 14th (14. September), write me.

-

-

Fated meeting, in the middle of nowhere

You go your way

And I go my way

But we are both there

At the same time

-

And we look – how we look –

At each other

And we stop

And we think

Of each other

-

Fated meeting, in the middle of somewhere

You look my way

And I look your way

And we are both there

So very aware – of that look

-

And we hesitate, and we linger

An hour, or two

And we look

And we think

But don’t dare it

-

Fated meeting, in the middle of… something?

You go your way

And I go my way

And it will never be anything

This time

-

And we leave – yes, we leave –

This way you and that way I

And we know that

We could have met again

Right around the corner

-

But didn’t

Have you ever felt like you just needed to get out?  Not just out of the house or out of the office.  I mean out-out...out of your life, out of your world, out of your skin.  Out long enough to stop being who everyone expects you to be; to drop the personas and pretenses, to scale your own walls of protection and expose yourself...to yourself. To get out and step away long enough to inhale, to breathe-in and re-discover who you are.  I get this feeling now and then of being corralled, hemmed in by life. And when it hits, there is really little I can do to save my sanity, but get out. On a trip last July, I found myself exhaling a big sigh of relief as I drove out of Vegas with a group of friends. A girl’s trip, planned to escape the triple digit temperatures and the frustrations of being buried alive by work. We were headed to Great Basin, Nevada for higher elevations and a promise of no cell phone service. It was a perfect chance to get out and get away, to re-claim personal space and peace of mind.

The caravan out of Las Vegas early Friday morning was bottled joy in contrast to the blank stares and focused intent of the morning commute traffic.  We had nabbed a three day weekend out of the middle of the month and felt no guilt for leaving the working world behind.  Keeping ourselves in check we made our way past the last city off ramp. We could feel the weight of the shortened week begin to lift while the constraints of life’s monotony broke away. Our plan was to hike Wheeler Peak, a 13,065 ft mountain that stands watch over the state of Nevada. With no concrete plan other than our destination, we began to feel the power of experiencing the world in front of us.  When the layers of expectation and responsibility beginning to fade, we took note of the desert, and the present moment came into view.  The world around us shifted as the landscape took on a renewed smell, the mountains grew, and the sky turned a brighter hue of blue; at some point, arriving became secondary to living. We agreed on a short cut that would take us down 50 miles of dirt road and a washed out Canyon.  It was the quickest way to freedom...windows down, arms flying in the wind and the raw earth coating our senses with the essence of sage. We made our way north to the destination planned, experiencing a journey with no limitations... letting go of imposed standards and unsolicited opinion.

 As the first day grew into the second, the morning greeted us with a crispness we had not experienced in Vegas for months.  Sleeping bags wound themselves tight around tangled legs in an effort to stave off the chill. The price to pay for camping took its toll on ribs spoiled by pillowtop mattresses and down. We each wondered if the tightness in our hips would loosen as we arranged our gear for the ascent to the peak.  We went about our morning with calm intent, letting the plan for the day unfold over coffee and chatter; the morning campfire bearing witness to the days energy. Six strong women, a boy and a dog connected by parallel paths and a need to explore their own limitations, without judgment.  We started out of camp, clambering our way towards a trail that would take us above the trees, giving a whole new view of the landscape, a whole new reality...enlarged and expanded. Falling into a rhythm we passed through the lower layers of Aspens and meadows, pools of snow melted lakes.  We were in awe as we made our way through the Noble Firs and grass swept hillsides.  Only to be humbled by the Bristlecone Pines growing out of a mountain formed in rock. 

Climbing our way to the top of the tree-line, we caught our first close-up look at the peak we were attempting to conquer. Strong and silent, the trees gave way to rock, a wailing wind holding the hummingbirds and wild lavender at a respectful distance. We sat in silent gratitude for the shelter of the hillside, feasting on lunch and reassessing our intentions for the day.  All but three decided to turn back to camp and take advantage of a long winding descent in the early afternoon sun.  The three of us pushing for the top, would need to reset our resolve.  Getting ready for the challenge, we added layers of clothing, checked our water stores and closed the distance to form a condensed unit.  We headed up and out of the protection of the tree-line, only to be blasted by howling winds.  They were relentless and cold, causing us to put our heads down and focus on the task at hand. The rock at our feet turned to shale and our concentration turned to our footing. With each step up, we left the comforts of the hillside.  All thoughts and observations became internal. Finding our pace, we climbed in unison as if attached by invisible wooden rods. We must have looked as though we were marching in a band, carefully placing one foot in front of the other...left, left, left right left. We could tell the air was thinning considerably as we started to rest at every couple hundred feet of elevation gain.  At 12,000 feet, 1,065 ft short of the top, we decided to turn back.  One girl was experience a headache, while we were all being beaten down by the weather.  Respecting our own power, in control of our own lives, we turned down hill in anticipation of shelter and warmth.

Stopping at the first outcropping of trees, we all contemplated the strength and power of the mountain.  Within the shelter of the Bristlecone pine on the side of a hilltop, we dug into our food stores and sat with the silence of our surrender.  Silence turned to respect for the force of the mountain, and the power of our hearts.  Before long, we were laughing and giggling, never showing signs of regret for turning around, proud of what we had accomplished.  On the long hike back to camp, we fell into our own pace, leaving space for each of us to breathe-in the day’s experience.  Finding room on a mountain trail, we were able to re-discover who we were and what we were made of. 

I contemplated the uniqueness of each woman that climbed and descended the mountain that day.  Each being active participants in their own journey, tapping into their own guidance. Heading back to the heat of Vegas the next morning, we decided this would become an annual trip.  Ribs aching and hips tight from another relentless battle with the hard ground, it was decided we would each invite a new friend to experience the beauty of Great Basin and Wheeler Peak. We wanted to share what we had found among the trees, along the path. We had listened with an open heart, and heard our own guidance along the way. Each of us having reconnected to our own soul, internally; stepping back into our own skin, rejuvenated as the beauty of our true selves emerged.

By T.K. Maurer

Last week, U.S. and Iraqi officials said the two sides agreed tentatively to a schedule that includes a broad pullout of combat troops by the end of 2011 with the possibility that a residual U.S. force might stay behind to continue training and advising Iraqi security services.

But al-Maliki's remarks indicated his government was not satisfied with that arrangement and wants all foreign troops gone by the end of 2011.

Iraqi leader insists foreign soldiers must go - Yahoo! News.

------

Sorry for the harsh paraphrase there, but I wanted to make it clear to my fellow Americans what the Iraqis think our foreign policy should be regarding their domestic policy.

But I have found, in my travels,
that the majority pf people, although
with the ability to remember the good
and bad times in their life's, seem
to focus on the bad instead.

I do find myself wondering why,
instead of lingering on the good
times that have been had, the
pleasant memories stored up
there, the human brain [sometimes]
has the uncontrollable urge to
linger on the bad side of life.

Now I'll be honest and be the first
to admit that I myself do it too.
But.

This simply will not do.

Like my fellow blogger mrhappy88
has been trying to say with his blog,

Get Out There
Be Happy
Do Stuff

Quite simple when you break it down
to be honest.

[just in case you wanted to visit his
blog i have included the address
below]

http://mrhappy88.wordpress.com

This week marked two awesome milestones for the Baxter family. First, Autumn Grace started kindergarten on Wednesday, no doubt a milestone for any family. Second, and I'd say, more pivotal to learning life's lessons, she took her first backpacking trip. Now, to fully understand what i mean, let me define what this trip looked like. First, i packed like I normally would for a two night backpacking trip; pack, shelter, clothes, food, etc., then i packed everything Autumn would be needing as well. Stepping off from the car, I'm pretty sure i weighed in at about 40 pounds (about 10 more than i usually carry.) Autumn, Nick, Bruce and I started out from the parking area near Grayson Highland's campground, and in short order she turned the very small pack she was carrying over to me, her dedicated and diligent sherpa.

So that first day went. We rambled all of a mile or two down to this great little site on the other side of Big Wilson Creek, across form Upchurch Road. There we set up camp,  made a roaring fire, and hunkered down for an evening of fireside chat's and dinner. After dessert, Autumn decided she had enough and went off to our tent to read and drift off. When she woke me in the wee hours for the call of nature, i knew this was going to be a fun trip. She surely wanted to use the wood line, but, after all our talk of bear bagging, she was convinced there were bears outside the tent. Convincing her otherwise, we stumbled into the moonlit eve.  She did her thing, still assuring me that there were in fact bears in the wood nearby.

On Saturday morning we awoke, made breakfast and prepared for Autumn's longest ever hike. We broke camp and took an unmarked trail to the Seed Orchard Road, via the Wilson Creek Trail. The Wilson Creek Trail twisted up and down along the side of the Big Wilson Creek for about a mile before landing us safely onto Seed Orchard Road. This road led us past the Fraiser Fir Stand in the Seed Orchard and up to the confluence of many trails. After choosing a side trail over to the AT, we meandered to the Wise Shelter for our first break, and a visit to the privy. We timed our arrival well with the departure of some day hikers who were collecting blueberries, blackberries, and huckleberries. A kindly old hiker helped reassure me of the sweet treats appearance and off they went. As we continued on the AT from Wise to Massie's Gap, our progress was halted every five seconds by the newly dubbed "Blackberry Kid."

Upon reaching the At Spur, we decided to break again, and relieved ourselves of the burdens on our backs. Looking up the hill, we decided to bushwhack to the top of the rocky knob above us. The knob, technically a part of Wilburn Ridge, afforded great views of our domain. It looked north onto the high country affording views of the Massie's Gap, greater Wilburn Ridge, Scales, and a variety of interlacing trails. We could also see people, lots and lots of people. After taking the requisite "summit photos,"

 we descended, shouldered our loads and continued on. After crossing through Massie's Gap, we continued south on the AT to the intersection of the Wilburn Ridge trail and the AT. From there we hiked and scrambled up the blue blaze trail. The trail took us right over the first of the Wilburn Ridge trifecta of high points. From the first one, we saw the wide crossroads below, and beyond, the second (most impressive) of the rock outcroppings on the ridge. This was to be our destination for lunch. After descending the first highpoint, and crossing the

well traveled intersection with the Highlands Horse trail, we again climbed up the high bluffs.

When we arrived at the top, we shed our packs, and began a casual and lengthy evaluation of our surroundings. We saw day hikers, backpackers, horse packers (way below) and wild ponies (in the distance.) We ate lunch at a lazy pace and lounged a bit under a beautifully clouded sky. The temperature, wind and noise level were the best I've ever experienced on this ridge, and before long the four of us had it all to ourselves. After an extended period, we checked our map, made a plan and began the descent to Rhododendron Gap. A mile and change after the gap, we arrived at a well traveled campsite at the meeting of the Crest and Lewis Fork trails. Arriving here was a great relief for all of us, especially young Autumn. She had been such a trooper and set a great pace for all of the day's eight or nine miles. Just shy of pulling in, she began to waiver, and the site of camp helped bolster her spirit. 

We set up camp, and began prepping fire and dinner. Before long we had a wonderful fire going, and a belly full of chow. We played cards, and hung around a bit. As the evening wore on, the sun set in one of the most beautiful displays of color i had observed in a long time. Before long, the moon began to appear. Slowly at first, and then as if aware of our longing, the clouds unveiled a full and bright moon. Autumn quipped "this is the most beautiful thing ever." A light mood settled on the four of us. After we lazed in the moonlight a bit, I suggested Autumn rest for the next days walking and off she went to read and rest.

In the morning, we awoke, made cocoa, and began to prep the fire and breakfast. As breakfast cooled i packed our things and we readied for the final leg of our journey. After eating and some final packing, we headed down the crest trail bound for Scales and our first break of the morning.

 Pulling into scales gave us all an appreciation for just what we had done so far. Many families were camped all over the field there, many with multiple large sleeping and cook tents. Fire rings and pick up trucks surrounded us. As we stopped to eat a snack (our last of the trip,) and stretch our weary bodies, we sensed the end was near. Pulling out of Scales, we took the Scales trail down to it's intersection with Wilson Creek trail. About halfway, and only a few miles from the car, Autumn took an awful spill, scraping her hands, and bumping her head. to keep her spirits high and keep us moving, I threw her on my shoulders, and off we went. 

Ten minutes later we were again walking side by side, and talking about our wonderful trip. 

As we wandered to the end of the Scales trail, we arrived at an intersection where we started our loop the day before and knew we were almost at the end. We strolled down the seed orchard road at a casual pace and soon arrived at the trail head. While a relief to our aching bodies, I was remiss to leave so soon. Autumn had done so well and pushed so much. I could not have been a more proud Dad, lavishing praise and high fives. After changing into flip flops and clean t-shirts, we piled into the car and headed to Damascus for lunch and treats. As things settled down and we headed down the interstate, the effect of two days hiking and mothering began to set in. Adding the responsibility for Autumn to the workload of backpacking, while extremely rewarding, is more effort than that of just walking for one's own sake. That being said, I would gladly crawl across a desert of broken glass to see Autumn succeed like she did this weekend.

One final thought... mad props go out to Bruce and Nick for their kindness, patience, and willing spirit. At all points these guys did everything they could to make Autumn feel like part of the team. They encouraged, and consoled her like only true friends could. All in all it was a great experience for Autumn and the adults. After this experience, I cannot wait until we get another chance to get out again. Thanks fellas!!!

Back to my apartment I had to clean, clean, clean and clean again over and over again. Besides the fact that I developed OCD from living there and it's no cleaner than before. I realized that nothing was alright THAT night and  was in a dead end. No exit possible. I had a massive panic attack, it all started by staring at the ceiling in the bathroom while I was washing my hair. I saw these greens little circles forming the image of a grape there.

Then all of my proud and zenitude went down the drain.

The worst thing that can happend to someone who is obsess to clean is to admit that there is mushrooms growing in your house and trust me baby it is nasty and there's more than just a spot.

My apartment is no paradise, i knew it, being part of rich CDN equals being the very low low class of society, right above the low low low class but my apartment was pink and purple and I got too excited with everything next door.

Today I admit my crime and now go back to suburbia ...... which is a good punishment in my opinion.

Otherwise, you will all be glad that I had the best vacations ever. Not even you, you or YOU had better in a year.
It was my first vacations since..... uh... hum.... well a long time and I could not have been more excited.

Everything started with the Warped tour which is if you know me, my christmas or hanukkah in summer. However, 2008 was weird. I think that seeing all those kids really crushed me. I am old now. Not like pope old but Barbie old.... I have been around since a while but still looking good... I took good pictures and at least  met that awesome band 3OH!3.
Jesus! If you guys do not know this band I think it is the new generation of 50 cents but white..... plus they made the crowd go crazy and they do not take themselves seriously so no risk of being shot there.

Then during this amazing week of break I went boating with my dad. My dad is this kind of calm guy that says things like " Now I won't break Cynthia so when we'll hit the beach hold the boat tight." Which is always nice to hear but obviously it will end up being total chaos like " OH MY GOD CYNTHIA GET OUT OF THE BOAT GET OUTTTTT THE MOTOR IS IN THE SAND IT WILL BREAK GET OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT". Me, sitting in the front of the boat (it's a small boat) my reflex is to jump in front of me, to get on the beach ...... I never reached the beach until after when my ipod and cellphone was soaking wet. Tragic but they survived.

Oh and no VB sorry but it's coming it's only a matter of time I swear!

-The Richest Man in Babylon by George S. Clason

Another thing that kills me is that I don't feel like God is with me any more.. I used to have a feeling that I knew that God was WITH ME. Like I know I am saved.. but I don't feel like I am in the right with God anymore.. It's probably because sins that I used to cry over are nothing to me. "Ops sorry God, I'll try not to do that again." when before I would fall face down.. Its hard to worship someone who your sin has separated you from. But every day I dig and come up short.. I don't know what to do anymore.. I left the wilderness but I am still in it. 

I don't feel like going over and reading this to myself to make it right. If you don't get it don't question because I wrote this to vent.. well that's not true.. if I wrote this for myself I would not post it for all to see.. What ever, pray for me please.

I'm sick of people standing around the watering hole sulking about how much they hate this country. We have pretty fuckin' open borders, so go to the post office, stand in line, pay your fee, take your picture, and board the next fucking flight to france. When you get there send me a photograph of you and your smoking hairy french-bitch ladyfriend with a voice like Brando, assuming you like ladies that is.

This is the kind of banter I am referring to (from http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article14998.htm )

"Among many reasons, I hate America for the near-extermination and subsequent oppression of its indigenous population. I hate it for its role in the African slave trade and for dropping atomic bombs of civilians. I hate its control of institutions like the United Nations, World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and World Trade Organization. I hate it for propping up brutal dictators like Suharto, Pinochet, Duvalier, Hussein, Marcos, and the Shah of Iran. I hate America for its unconditional support for Israel. I hate its bogus two-party system, its one-size-fits-all culture, and its income gap. I could go on for pages but I'll sum up with this: I hate America for being a hypocritical white supremacist capitalist patriarchy."

Fuck you If you hate it then get the fuck out! Or as they say in france, "Fuck you, bitches! oh shit they heard us. Call the Americans, hurry hurry!" Everyone wants to bitch about this county and how they don't like thia and they don't like that, but i got news for you borther. There isn't a place on this fucking earth that is any better for EVERYONE! You may find a country that caters more to your spefic needs but you'll still have your gripes, but at least here you're allowed to gripe! Go to Seirra Leone and gripe, see how far that gets you, be my guest. It'll be one less tree-hugging, whale-cock-chugging, save the enviorment, I'm gullabale enough to believe in global fucking warming hippie to bother me in my day to day life. I'm tired of the eco rhetoric being force fed to us through the mainstream media. Why don't people fucking form their own opinions? I know repubs that ONLY get their news from Fox and Dems that ONLY get their news from The New York Times. I personally like to check out all the major news groups then go trolling through the fuckin tubes and kinda compare and come to my own deduction.

Example. I've been listening to the banter on TV about the fuel crisis and how its Bush's fault I personally am too lazy to address this issue but one of  my favorite (not quite what I'd call a news source by any means but good nonetheless) web authors posted something yesterday that kinds sums it all up.

Read the full article here ( http://arthurshall.com/x_2008_oil.shtml )

Here is an excerpt ...

""Gas is expensive because Bush has oil interests!"

"When Bush took office, gas was $1.46 a gallon."

The former statement is just a catchphrase for a shithead. The second is true, but ignores the fact that two years before, gas was 77c a gallon, here in Indy. In other words: It doubled under blubba clinton in two years, and neoliberal shitheads declared it to be a "Good Thing". When it doubled again under Bush, in 5 years, during a war in the Middle East, with a frothing nutjob in Venezuela and strife in Mexico and Nigeria, along with a massive demand increase from China, India and other developing nations, that was a "Bad Thing"."

Please read the article and check out some of his other stuff the home page is on my blogroll to the right if you're on the main page ==>

These very same people that bitch about shit they only know 1 side to are the people who get to line up come November and make un- or ill- informed decisions that dictate who OUR next leader will be. Guess what if they don't like him they'll just keep bitchin' but I bet they won't move to france, because who in their right minds would rather live in that indecisive prissy shit hole, not even the Dems are goin to france I PROMISE!!!

[edit]

"You say people are pussies for not liking America, so you tell them to move to France. Correct me if I am wrong, but wouldn’t moving away and doing nothing really be the pussy move"

- Yeah it would be thats why I called them pussies!

"At the same time however does the government not spy on us everyday?"

- What does this have to do with our ability to complain? You got off point a little in your hippie anger, kik (thats the new lol because i'm typing in the dark)!

"Global warming… Are you so ignorant that you really believe it is not real?"

try reading stats from somewhere other than www.greanpeacehippienews.org again mainstream media feeding you what they need you to hear in order for you to buy their electric hybrid cars that pollute and damage the environment more in production than your average combustion engine does over its life span! enjoy spending the extra 3 dollars on "green" products that the only difference is a 30% mark up and new packaging!

"MY challenge is this, go be that change you want to see."

- Sorry I'm Lazy and I happen to like America. Only things I would change are the crime rates and taxes, but I can't do that from my couch so fuck it, I'll just vote for someone who will address those issues for me!

BTW you mispelled hippie, "hippe".

This is where we do live.I want to see this:

Not this:

ha!

I am currently drowning in a sea full of boxes. What do I want to be, where do I want to go, who will I ultimately become? The quarter-life crisis is in full effect. It breaks down as such:

What do I want to do?:

Not just as a career, because we are really kidding ourselves if we think our complete identity is locked up in what job we choose. What do I want to do as in, should I use my creativity? Should I work toward helping my community? Should I live in a cave and rely on mountain berries and rain water to survive? What do I want to do? What is ultimately going to make me be the embodiment of a great person?

Where do I want to go?:

This is way more literal than you might think. While you are reading this as a philosophical question, I absolutely mean it. Italy? Bahamas? Africa? Atlanta? Vermont? Kentucky? The bowling alley? Where do I want to go? I want to see the world, perhaps not all of it but some, where do I start?

Who will I ultimately become?

When I am 80, will I look back on this moment and think "You idiot, you're 25 you have your whole life ahead of you and your wasting it typing this blog?" Or will this blog be an integral part of my ultimate identity? Do I want to be a good and kind person or a cut-throat, money hungry kind of gal. Do I want to sacrifice time with my family do become a professional? Or is my family going to be most important and never sacrificed?

I don't even like pink. I don't know why I chose it. Probably to break out of the box. We are constantly put into these boxes, these pre-made molds and if we dare deviate there's hell to pay. Yes, I like pink sometimes it doesn't make me an evil valley girl. Yes, sometimes I rock out to Linkin Park and sometimes I define militant with T. Kweli. Yes, sometimes I exercise vigorously and sometimes I sit on my butt and do nothing. I am never all one thing, we are never all one thing. I am stepping out of the box. Welcome to my blog, the true tale of an artist, nanny, weight watcher, writer, wife, daughter, sister, friend, rocker, Clark Howard listening, rap fan who always makes a way no matter what blocks the path.

And tomorrow, I am wearing pink.

"I get out, I get out of all your boxes" - Lauryn Hill (the less sane days)

Does anyone actually give a shit about anything?!

Abroad and meeting people who have left their families and friends behind to experience something different. But we must not be blind, people dont just leave the most important things in their life behind, something triggers it. Something must have happened. Do people become black and white?

I have met people from south, east and west europe, south america, joining me in the adventure of the unknown, in this ltle known town.

Many have been nice "from the start", the kind of nice that coming from England you think, something here is not right, this is too good to be true, and almost as a principle when something becomes to good to be true I make myself ultra aware. Their is an alternate motive, if people are so nice?

I mean the fact these guys who were doing the same training as me and invited me to sleep in the same room as them, when these two girls didnt  have a clue who I was.

They said " ohhhh listen this is what we d o in europe, dont let people get lost, stick together, avoid loneliness" well something along those lines. Anyway me being the ultra sensitive was shocked by the words " dont murder him", when she left me with the other girl, I mean would you do this to a new person, it freaked me out, I had heard about people murdering traveling students and I dont make banter like that, I dont even like to talk about murder or things like this unless its absoluly nessecary, nevermind meeting someone knew, on top of this a really do analyse what people people say the essence and the basics for their thought , and many times there were contraditions which I always wish to explore. But it makes me think they are mad.

I made them aware and they really didnt understand that I had met people in the past who said strange things and turned out to be strange, well I stayed wake most of that night...but the second and last night was fine, maybe I dont get out enough I dont know...?

But I gave such a shit about everything at that point, that new developing situation in my life and I looked to these idiots to be guides, what a stupid idea, they said I should have "more fun!" What does have fun actually mean???!!! I was never shown or told but it seems my version of fun is commonly different apart from getting drunk, (also have fun with my old friends, though they always seem to care less) is commonly different from most other peoples version of fun...so the result being an openminded guy..I let lose..a bit..experimented with my words, lost my principles lost my way and total control!

 With the aid of drink, and what happens, now they think I am a drunk...they used to think I was too incontrol and a bit sexy...bullshit..lesson 1 never listen to strangers, never listen to women..though iam glad I did it and have picked up on this weakness...and yeah I am getting back to regime and control, but I am left looking at new ideas and beliefs that seem to make me more common, I dont want to be more common, I dont want to not care, I dont believe in not caring , and no discipline or formula to life, I dont want to be common.

So now I am regrouping.

So at least i noticed. Not the first time.  On top of that many people I meet out here are in a stuggle between being good and bad, giving taking, puting what i see as discipline into making someone elses time on this planet pleasent for them as well as your self...Am I too fussy or what?

It almost reminded me of Adam and Eve, being tempted to "have fun", the picture above is William Hogarth

Later that evening, my wife's friend offered to watch the kids so we can go to IKEA to get a kids loft bed.  Of all the things we could do by ourselves and we go to IKEA .  We decided it would be easier to make a decision about the furniture without the kids.  We spent an hour deciding between two different loft beds and finally decide on one.  My wife and I hurried through the store to get ready to check out.  For the particular items we needed (the loft bed, the mattress, and a tent for the bed), we need to pick them up right before the register.  It's rather simple, your are given an aisle number and a bin number.  The three items we came for were all out of stock.  That's great!  This is not our day.

We went to pick up our kids and we stayed for dinner.  They had some delicious BBQ chicken and fresh gucamole and chips.  I wonder why my BBQ chicken does not come out like that?  So I guess this is a positive.

We came back to our place and found some teenagers in the pool. That is not surprising for a Saturday night.  They decided to vandalize the spa area by putting bubbles in the spa.   This can cause damage to the filtration system.  My wife asked them many questions and  of course none of them live in the area.  They hopped the fence out of the pool area and ran off to their car.  They were quite rude with their responses to my wife.  I can not believe teenagers today.  I don't mind if they want to use the pool but just keep it quiet and don't vandalize it. 

A very catchy song. Its sung by Jill Vidal, or Wei Si in Chinese. I don't know much about here other and she is the twin sister of Janice Vidal or Wei Lan. Thats about it.. They sing in Cantonese, and their English is very good. They are half  Filipino (Father side) and Chinese Korean (Mother side). Gah, so jealous of their looks, and the sisters can BOTH sing very good. They are both very popular in Hong Kong. Just looking stuff up on Wiki... Okay, done. :]]  Its 0:35 seconds with a fade in and a small fade out in the end. Enjoy it here.