Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
It has been some time, yes in deed. The desire to tell you every minute detail is rather large scale, but the sake of my sanity and your time... Wait, for the sake your sanity and MY time, I'll keep it brief, upbeat and refrain from as many swear words as possible.
College is... Important. College is... Expensive. College is... como se dice, "drama laden, sports infested, high school for a second time?" No, college is not that bad... but it borders the prior description with the exception of the pros! Meeting people, conversing on a somewhat higher level, receiving commendations from professors who recognize your worth and want to continue increasing it with well laid out lessons and questions that create a sense of 'this is really going to make me a better, more well rounded person in the end' feeling. And that is worth all the drama, sports, & high school re-runs completely.
But the title doesn't fit the blog does it? No, I've not taken more hours than I can handle. In fact, I'm on at 15 this semester which makes last years schedule seem lighter (it was only 16, but that added hour made a big difference in eating dinner with the family or stuffing my face at the desk with a fork in one hand and a highlighter in the other: NOTE - Pink highlighters are not tasty)!
So what is new?
Five kids? No, you knew that already.
Husband? No, you knew that, too.
Give up?
Homeschooling!
Yes, my little minion, five children grace our household and four of them are school aged. It goes without saying all four said school aged children are now under the educational advisement of yours truly!
And it is going wonderfully! The kids have their classes in the morning and afternoons, I have my classes on Mondays and Wednesdays on campus. My online classes are done after dinner and I get to SEE MY CHILDREN DAILY! Much unlike last semester when I would return from campus and an hour later, they were in bed... Leaving out for the bus while I was in the shower and the routine continued like that for four months. Oh, and let us not forget the entire two weeks of random automated calls from the local school district my children attend(ed) stating a bomb threat had been received... a note had been found... a student shot himself at home... None of that at the Evans Homeschool, Learning, Loving and Living Center! We cater to our kiddos educational needs and get to have fun, too!
For instance, a portion of my tuition pays for certain amenities on campus, one being the gorgeous library! And what would a library be without a spectacular museum? And who was able to give their children a hands on, first hand look at life from the age of the beginning of man (dino days) all the way through the Vietnam War? Life in the World through an Arkansans eyes! They had an incredible time and the photos were priceless. I feel hard pressed to share them with you, but for the sake of not ruining it, should you ever make it to Arkansas State University, Jonesboro, you should certainly stop by the library on campus and check it out! You won't be disappointed.
Alas, I am SUPER MOM! With my cape of love flying high and my arms outstretched to give those endless hugs, I bid you all good evening -- there is a child that needs my attention and I cannot fathom ignoring them... even for you!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Friday, August 30, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Arkansas... Where Truth is Stranger than Fiction
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers by,
I can't believe it has been nearly a year since my last blog! Suffice it to say, college can dampen your blogging abilities and I feel pressed to inform you that I am putting off studying for a Social Stats Lab final to bring you the latest from the inner recesses of my mind!
But it is a story of tragedy. Of sadness. Of possible conspiracy and of the tangled webs of sex, scandal and the most highest of conspiracy theories... or it could be true. The fact that it is completely amateur is why this post is here, rather than Justice Shall Prevail -- and I make no claims that any of the following theory is true... I simply call it like I see and with the history of Arkansas's Judicial and Legal System, I can't help but post it here in hopes of enlightening, entertaining and bs'ing what could be fact and what could be fiction.
The case starts as one of complete and utter fear. A mom wakes to find her teenage daughter missing. See official Amber Alert here. Her favorite things: shoes, clothes, make-up, cell, all accounted for. It's between 3:30am and 5:30am and she is no where to be seen. The mom's ex [sic] husband pulls up in his truck and, bewildered, asks why she is up so early. The mother informs the man that her daughter (his step-daughter) is missing. She advises him she is going to contact the police and he says, "bull shit, bull shit" and leaves, stating he is going to the police station.
One could conclude at this point the step dad had a hand in her disappearance by the ex [sic] wife's description of his behavior. Case closed, right? Not in Arkansas. Approximately 36 hours later, his body is found, dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.
I know what you're thinking... Of course he did it. He knew he would go to jail and the coward that he is killed himself to avoid prosecution and prison time! But did he?
The mom goes on camera with a local news station, KAIT Region 8 News, Jonesboro, to tell her story. It does not take a college degree (though I have one) to determine her tone and affect are rather flat. Not that of worn emotion, but rather, one of... hmmm. I can't say confusion, because she doesn't really seem confused. I can't say anger, because she does not show any. And I can't say sadness, despair or even apathy for the loss of her ex-husband or her daughter, because again, her demeanor is just blank... TOO blank.
The teens biological father went on camera with a Tennessee news team about a week later and stated there was an issue of abuse toward the teen by the stepfather and that the girl "was going to tell". Read a related news article about the case here. The only issue I can find with this is, if the bio-father knew there was abuse and that his daughter was going to tell, why did he not file a report, make a call or otherwise be an advocate for his young daughter?
Let's consider the following:
In December 2012, a 12 year old is reported by her mother to be a runaway. Later, the story breaks that she was abducted by a 27 year old, who I dub the ring leader in a sex scandal & child porn case. He has multiple contacts throughout central and northeast Arkansas who maintain contact via text messaging and e-mail. This 12 year old girl is from Lawrence County. The man accused of abducting the girl is arrested. The mother continues to allow the girl to be toyed with by 13 other young men and teen boys, claiming she is 16 and 17 years old. Now, the twist... The mother is later arrested for her involvement in the scandal. This mass of co-conspirators in the operation have their sights on the teen mentioned above.
It's hard to put into text so I'll lay out a timeline... I seriously have to get back to my studies...
December 2012 - 12 year old girl reported runaway by mother
February 2013 - 27 year old arrested in abduction of runaway Theory: The stepfather / mother of missing teen are: struggling for money? involved in the sex, child porn case and fear they will be identified as co-conspirators?
March 2013 - Teen missing Theory: The stepfather / mother were involved in the disappearance for: money? Sex trafficking?
March 2013 - Stepfather dead Theory: The father did NOT know the mother was involved and was: shot by the mother? Shot by a fellow conspirator for fear of being 'outted' to the authorities?
March 2013 - Bio-dad makes claim stepfather abused teen
April 2013 - Sex, child porn scandal case breaks Theory: someone knew about the connection and: gave information to the authorities? Forwarded text photos or evidence?
April 2013 - 14 arrested in Sex, child porn scandal
April 2013 - Mother of 12 year old arrested in connection with sex, child porn scandal Theory: mother was very well aware of what was going on with her daughter and the alleged perpetrators, but continued to use her daughter in an abusive manner for financial gain or other form of exploitation?
April 2013 - Mother and father of one of the alleged (teen) suspects in the sex, child porn scandal is arrested in separate case involving child rape/sexual assault of a family member Theory: More to this than what is being reported?
April 2013 - Family of dead stepfather speak out Theory: Have reason to believe the stepfather was murdered because: he found out the mother was involved with the sex, child porn scandal? Knew the teen was being sold in sex trade?
April 30, 2013 - Teen is still missing Theory: Human Trafficking? People do not just 'vanish' into thin air? No trace of her in the area, yet authorities continue searching?
Remaining questions:
1.) Does the missing teens mother have any known association with the alleged perpetrators of the sex, child porn scandal? Did the stepfather? Did the missing teen know the 12 year old?
2.) Were the financial statements of the stepfather confirmed and equate to the money he spent/had remaining from his income tax returns? Was there a discrepancy?
3.) Was the stepfather at home when the mother went to bed at 10:30pm? Was this typical pattern of the stepfather? Did he display any new behaviors in the last four months that would be described as atypical?
4.) What was the relationship with the teen and the mother? Were there any recent arguments?
In Arkansas, where the tea is sweet, the cornbread is buttered and the mosquitoes are hated family pets, the fact that the truth may be stranger than fiction is only one facet of the life in true Smallville. A community pulls together for the sake of finding a missing teen. Law enforcement struggle to piece the clues together in hopes of saving a child. I pray they find the missing teen. I pray that justice is also found. However, looking under the same rock for new clues is asinine and a waste of time. True investigation starts with questions... I wonder if they thought about that?
Until next time,
LaVonda
I can't believe it has been nearly a year since my last blog! Suffice it to say, college can dampen your blogging abilities and I feel pressed to inform you that I am putting off studying for a Social Stats Lab final to bring you the latest from the inner recesses of my mind!
But it is a story of tragedy. Of sadness. Of possible conspiracy and of the tangled webs of sex, scandal and the most highest of conspiracy theories... or it could be true. The fact that it is completely amateur is why this post is here, rather than Justice Shall Prevail -- and I make no claims that any of the following theory is true... I simply call it like I see and with the history of Arkansas's Judicial and Legal System, I can't help but post it here in hopes of enlightening, entertaining and bs'ing what could be fact and what could be fiction.
The case starts as one of complete and utter fear. A mom wakes to find her teenage daughter missing. See official Amber Alert here. Her favorite things: shoes, clothes, make-up, cell, all accounted for. It's between 3:30am and 5:30am and she is no where to be seen. The mom's ex [sic] husband pulls up in his truck and, bewildered, asks why she is up so early. The mother informs the man that her daughter (his step-daughter) is missing. She advises him she is going to contact the police and he says, "bull shit, bull shit" and leaves, stating he is going to the police station.
One could conclude at this point the step dad had a hand in her disappearance by the ex [sic] wife's description of his behavior. Case closed, right? Not in Arkansas. Approximately 36 hours later, his body is found, dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.
I know what you're thinking... Of course he did it. He knew he would go to jail and the coward that he is killed himself to avoid prosecution and prison time! But did he?
The mom goes on camera with a local news station, KAIT Region 8 News, Jonesboro, to tell her story. It does not take a college degree (though I have one) to determine her tone and affect are rather flat. Not that of worn emotion, but rather, one of... hmmm. I can't say confusion, because she doesn't really seem confused. I can't say anger, because she does not show any. And I can't say sadness, despair or even apathy for the loss of her ex-husband or her daughter, because again, her demeanor is just blank... TOO blank.
The teens biological father went on camera with a Tennessee news team about a week later and stated there was an issue of abuse toward the teen by the stepfather and that the girl "was going to tell". Read a related news article about the case here. The only issue I can find with this is, if the bio-father knew there was abuse and that his daughter was going to tell, why did he not file a report, make a call or otherwise be an advocate for his young daughter?
Let's consider the following:
- FACT: The stepfather had reportedly received an income tax return and purchased a gun and computer(s).
- Question: Is this typical behavior for him? Had he previously owned a computer?
- FACT: The items were confiscated by authorities for collecting potential evidence in the girls disappearance.
- Question: Have they found anything?
- FACT: Local law enforcement and rescue/search volunteers, to this day, continue to search for the missing girl -- in the local area of the town in which she resided.
- Question: Are there any leads?
- FACT: A recent string of arrests tied to sex, porn, and child rape came about a mere 6 weeks after the teens disappearance -- in the same county and stretching to date, as far south as Searcy, Arkansas and as far north as Rector, Arkansas. Involved in this separate case is the 12 year old (victim) and the 14 alleged perpetrators ranging in age from teen to 27... AND the own girls MOTHER! Fifteen total suspects in this separate case.
- Question: Did either the mother of the missing teen or the stepfather know any of the persons involved in the scandal case?
- FACT: As of this post and to my knowledge, the mother of the missing teen is not a suspect... why not?
- Question: If she was the last person to see the teen alive, doesn't that make her a suspect? Was the relationship typical? Atypical? Was there resentment, anger or animosity held between the two that has yet to surface?
In December 2012, a 12 year old is reported by her mother to be a runaway. Later, the story breaks that she was abducted by a 27 year old, who I dub the ring leader in a sex scandal & child porn case. He has multiple contacts throughout central and northeast Arkansas who maintain contact via text messaging and e-mail. This 12 year old girl is from Lawrence County. The man accused of abducting the girl is arrested. The mother continues to allow the girl to be toyed with by 13 other young men and teen boys, claiming she is 16 and 17 years old. Now, the twist... The mother is later arrested for her involvement in the scandal. This mass of co-conspirators in the operation have their sights on the teen mentioned above.
It's hard to put into text so I'll lay out a timeline... I seriously have to get back to my studies...
December 2012 - 12 year old girl reported runaway by mother
February 2013 - 27 year old arrested in abduction of runaway Theory: The stepfather / mother of missing teen are: struggling for money? involved in the sex, child porn case and fear they will be identified as co-conspirators?
March 2013 - Teen missing Theory: The stepfather / mother were involved in the disappearance for: money? Sex trafficking?
March 2013 - Stepfather dead Theory: The father did NOT know the mother was involved and was: shot by the mother? Shot by a fellow conspirator for fear of being 'outted' to the authorities?
March 2013 - Bio-dad makes claim stepfather abused teen
April 2013 - Sex, child porn scandal case breaks Theory: someone knew about the connection and: gave information to the authorities? Forwarded text photos or evidence?
April 2013 - 14 arrested in Sex, child porn scandal
April 2013 - Mother of 12 year old arrested in connection with sex, child porn scandal Theory: mother was very well aware of what was going on with her daughter and the alleged perpetrators, but continued to use her daughter in an abusive manner for financial gain or other form of exploitation?
April 2013 - Mother and father of one of the alleged (teen) suspects in the sex, child porn scandal is arrested in separate case involving child rape/sexual assault of a family member Theory: More to this than what is being reported?
April 2013 - Family of dead stepfather speak out Theory: Have reason to believe the stepfather was murdered because: he found out the mother was involved with the sex, child porn scandal? Knew the teen was being sold in sex trade?
April 30, 2013 - Teen is still missing Theory: Human Trafficking? People do not just 'vanish' into thin air? No trace of her in the area, yet authorities continue searching?
Remaining questions:
1.) Does the missing teens mother have any known association with the alleged perpetrators of the sex, child porn scandal? Did the stepfather? Did the missing teen know the 12 year old?
2.) Were the financial statements of the stepfather confirmed and equate to the money he spent/had remaining from his income tax returns? Was there a discrepancy?
3.) Was the stepfather at home when the mother went to bed at 10:30pm? Was this typical pattern of the stepfather? Did he display any new behaviors in the last four months that would be described as atypical?
4.) What was the relationship with the teen and the mother? Were there any recent arguments?
In Arkansas, where the tea is sweet, the cornbread is buttered and the mosquitoes are hated family pets, the fact that the truth may be stranger than fiction is only one facet of the life in true Smallville. A community pulls together for the sake of finding a missing teen. Law enforcement struggle to piece the clues together in hopes of saving a child. I pray they find the missing teen. I pray that justice is also found. However, looking under the same rock for new clues is asinine and a waste of time. True investigation starts with questions... I wonder if they thought about that?
Until next time,
LaVonda
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Forget the A.R.K. - Be a L.I.G.H.T!
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
Been a while, to say the least, but you should always know, I'm out and about, scouring the town, the countryside, the school, the market... just about any particular place I can to find a great subject in which to voice my opinion about - be it a welcome topic, a debate, or just a little rant to pass the time. Today's post comes from the heart. One that I know doubt could do better at, but an act so bright, I had to wear shades.
A.R.K. - act of random kindness -- this goes without saying, but for those slow on the up-take, I'll say it anyway. If the world as a whole would do one random act of kindness, we could be such an awesome world. Granted, I do not know of any other worlds with 'people' of our kind, but nevertheless, how great would that be... But one act doesn't seem to go very far and there are far too many people taking 'advantage' of those acts. So I came up (and I'll tell you how in a minute) L.I.G.H.T... Simply put - "Life Is Generosity, Honesty, and Trust". Let me break it down for you.
Life is... Generosity - Taking a moment to tell someone something, do something for someone, being a generous person without expecting anything in return. Being thoughtful of others situation and showing compassion where it is due.
Life is... Honesty - Couldn't we all use a little bit more of this in our lives.
Life is... Trust - If we knew people were honest, couldn't we trust them more? Wouldn't we want to trust them more? I know my life would be a lot less irritating if I could trust people more.
But, LaVonda... How did you ever come up with this?
I'll tell you.
At a local grocery store the other day, I was in the process of filling my WIC voucher. If you have now or have ever been on the WIC program, you are very much aware of how each store has different brands and how only certain brands/varieties to chose from or that are allowed for purchase. Knowing this, the health department created a pamphlet containing a list of all the approved food items -- and they are suppose to distribute said pamphlet whenever a person is certified for the program. However, they tend to keep them locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Well, I have 5 children and pretty much a veteran of the program, so I'm familiar with the items allowed, however, while in the grocery store the other day, I seen a young lady, who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 years old, belly starting to look like she had ingested a small ball -- yep, she was pregnant. She was with who I assume to be her grandmother. They were standing in the cereal aisle, as was I. The look on her face was that of fear to say the least. Not because Tony the Tiger was staring at her, but because she looked lost.
Standing there for a moment, I began to wonder just how hard life had been for me when I was pregnant with my first child at 18. I also recall how nervous I was to even be seen in public for a while because of the looks people would give me. But eventually, I got over it.. I'm thick skinned like that and truth be told, I don't care what people think about me - ye that is without sin... and so on.
Well, as I stood there debating on whether to get hot cereal, cold cereal or go out on a limb and get both, I also began to wonder how I would have felt if someone had been kind to me in my time of fear and despair. Glancing back at her casually, I noticed she was trying to see the WIC labels on the shelves that directed the consumer to the approved items as though she had not ever seen them before. Then it occurred to me, perhaps she has never been in this situation before, or ever received WIC before -- heaven help her if she has been pregnant before. She looked so young.
That is when a light bulb came on. Not an epiphany - but just a big ol' smack of reality -- I'll be a light. Not a religious fanatic who preaches about spreading a light and what not - that only works if you are dealing with someone who is lost. I'm talking about MY LIGHT - LIFE IS...
How could I stand there, holding a pamphlet that lists everything she is looking for while I just shop away, possibly capable of reciting the pamphlet by memory alone. Walking up to her and her grandmother, I said hello. I did not go into the 'you're so young, have you thought of adoption" speech that I had heard religiously for nearly my entire pregnancy in 1998. I simply said, "I've already got my stuff and this pamphlet will help you figure out what you can get. You can have it if you'd like."
The look on this girls face was something electric. She seemed like a huge burden had been lifted just by taking the paper from my hands. She thanked me (repeatedly) and said she was so worried about getting the wrong stuff. I told her it was my pleasure and not to worry if she does get it wrong, the register will let the cashier know and they can fix it.
I may not have been the light that I wanted to be, and I may not have really done anything huge in someone elses eyes, but... I helped someone, I was honest, and trusting and generous... and in MY eyes... that is LIFE!
Until tomorrow,
~L
Been a while, to say the least, but you should always know, I'm out and about, scouring the town, the countryside, the school, the market... just about any particular place I can to find a great subject in which to voice my opinion about - be it a welcome topic, a debate, or just a little rant to pass the time. Today's post comes from the heart. One that I know doubt could do better at, but an act so bright, I had to wear shades.
A.R.K. - act of random kindness -- this goes without saying, but for those slow on the up-take, I'll say it anyway. If the world as a whole would do one random act of kindness, we could be such an awesome world. Granted, I do not know of any other worlds with 'people' of our kind, but nevertheless, how great would that be... But one act doesn't seem to go very far and there are far too many people taking 'advantage' of those acts. So I came up (and I'll tell you how in a minute) L.I.G.H.T... Simply put - "Life Is Generosity, Honesty, and Trust". Let me break it down for you.
Life is... Generosity - Taking a moment to tell someone something, do something for someone, being a generous person without expecting anything in return. Being thoughtful of others situation and showing compassion where it is due.
Life is... Honesty - Couldn't we all use a little bit more of this in our lives.
Life is... Trust - If we knew people were honest, couldn't we trust them more? Wouldn't we want to trust them more? I know my life would be a lot less irritating if I could trust people more.
But, LaVonda... How did you ever come up with this?
I'll tell you.
At a local grocery store the other day, I was in the process of filling my WIC voucher. If you have now or have ever been on the WIC program, you are very much aware of how each store has different brands and how only certain brands/varieties to chose from or that are allowed for purchase. Knowing this, the health department created a pamphlet containing a list of all the approved food items -- and they are suppose to distribute said pamphlet whenever a person is certified for the program. However, they tend to keep them locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Well, I have 5 children and pretty much a veteran of the program, so I'm familiar with the items allowed, however, while in the grocery store the other day, I seen a young lady, who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 years old, belly starting to look like she had ingested a small ball -- yep, she was pregnant. She was with who I assume to be her grandmother. They were standing in the cereal aisle, as was I. The look on her face was that of fear to say the least. Not because Tony the Tiger was staring at her, but because she looked lost.
Standing there for a moment, I began to wonder just how hard life had been for me when I was pregnant with my first child at 18. I also recall how nervous I was to even be seen in public for a while because of the looks people would give me. But eventually, I got over it.. I'm thick skinned like that and truth be told, I don't care what people think about me - ye that is without sin... and so on.
Well, as I stood there debating on whether to get hot cereal, cold cereal or go out on a limb and get both, I also began to wonder how I would have felt if someone had been kind to me in my time of fear and despair. Glancing back at her casually, I noticed she was trying to see the WIC labels on the shelves that directed the consumer to the approved items as though she had not ever seen them before. Then it occurred to me, perhaps she has never been in this situation before, or ever received WIC before -- heaven help her if she has been pregnant before. She looked so young.
That is when a light bulb came on. Not an epiphany - but just a big ol' smack of reality -- I'll be a light. Not a religious fanatic who preaches about spreading a light and what not - that only works if you are dealing with someone who is lost. I'm talking about MY LIGHT - LIFE IS...
How could I stand there, holding a pamphlet that lists everything she is looking for while I just shop away, possibly capable of reciting the pamphlet by memory alone. Walking up to her and her grandmother, I said hello. I did not go into the 'you're so young, have you thought of adoption" speech that I had heard religiously for nearly my entire pregnancy in 1998. I simply said, "I've already got my stuff and this pamphlet will help you figure out what you can get. You can have it if you'd like."
The look on this girls face was something electric. She seemed like a huge burden had been lifted just by taking the paper from my hands. She thanked me (repeatedly) and said she was so worried about getting the wrong stuff. I told her it was my pleasure and not to worry if she does get it wrong, the register will let the cashier know and they can fix it.
I may not have been the light that I wanted to be, and I may not have really done anything huge in someone elses eyes, but... I helped someone, I was honest, and trusting and generous... and in MY eyes... that is LIFE!
Until tomorrow,
~L
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Day the Mole Met His Match
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
Everyone has seen them at one time or another. Those raised lines of soil trailing haphazardly along your lawn. You walk over to them and relentlessly press them down with your foot, only to wake the next morning to see them pulling something akin to Lazarus... They've risen again!
Yes folks, even in the wonderful whole in the wall called Oak Grove, moles do exist. And so does a never-giving up husband named Rodney. You see, he loves his lawn as do I. He tends to it like a woman would her mani/pedi and can't stand for things to miraculously appear, be them God made or otherwise.
A trip to our local Lowe's store for a mole trap several years ago proved completely worthless. It worked better as a lawn ornament. Nevertheless, the ice storm of 2009 seemed to have made the moles disappear. Alas, el nino has ended and the insects/spiders/rodents/mosquitoes are worse than ever! The mole hath returned!
With a more determined frame of mind, hubby and I venture back to Lowes in search of a product that will eradicate these vicious creatures -- it seemed determined to hit our pecan tree -- and we cherish that tree! Perusing the products they have available, one catches his eye: Poison Peanuts! Reading the label, we agree this is the best way to end the little bugger!
The sun had just began to set and he walks, I waddle, to what we've now deemed "ground zero". Following the labels instructions we bait the area - and wait. The next morning, reminding me of a child on Christmas morning, hubby trails outdoors to see if there was any sign of his return - and there was! We knew he took the bait... and just as we were about to celebrate, we glance over our land and see another risen area of soil some 100 ft from us.
Hubby's eyes widen, a sinister smiles stretches across his face as he launches an all out assault on the mole from hades. The following is a true story.
Day 2: "I can't tell if he's taking the bait. There are signs he's been there, but he keeps moving."
Day 3: "He's definately moving. The poison isn't working. I'm going to have to set it out better."
Day 4: "I've baited nearly every trail he's been in. There's rocks all over hiding the bait so I should be able to kill him."
Warning - Graphic!
On the 5th day, I walk into the kitchen as hubby is returning from the back yard. He has this glimmer in his eye, nothing too evil, yet, a very satisfied look appears. I ask, "Did you get him?" He replies, "With the shovel! I seen him moving when I was out there, so I started digging about a foot behind him. I dug up the tunnel real fast and killed him with the shovel!"
And what woman wouldn't be proud of her solider husband, defending their pecan tree against the likes of one sadistic mole?
Hope you enjoyed! We certainly did!
Until Tomorrow,
L
Everyone has seen them at one time or another. Those raised lines of soil trailing haphazardly along your lawn. You walk over to them and relentlessly press them down with your foot, only to wake the next morning to see them pulling something akin to Lazarus... They've risen again!
Yes folks, even in the wonderful whole in the wall called Oak Grove, moles do exist. And so does a never-giving up husband named Rodney. You see, he loves his lawn as do I. He tends to it like a woman would her mani/pedi and can't stand for things to miraculously appear, be them God made or otherwise.
A trip to our local Lowe's store for a mole trap several years ago proved completely worthless. It worked better as a lawn ornament. Nevertheless, the ice storm of 2009 seemed to have made the moles disappear. Alas, el nino has ended and the insects/spiders/rodents/mosquitoes are worse than ever! The mole hath returned!
With a more determined frame of mind, hubby and I venture back to Lowes in search of a product that will eradicate these vicious creatures -- it seemed determined to hit our pecan tree -- and we cherish that tree! Perusing the products they have available, one catches his eye: Poison Peanuts! Reading the label, we agree this is the best way to end the little bugger!
The sun had just began to set and he walks, I waddle, to what we've now deemed "ground zero". Following the labels instructions we bait the area - and wait. The next morning, reminding me of a child on Christmas morning, hubby trails outdoors to see if there was any sign of his return - and there was! We knew he took the bait... and just as we were about to celebrate, we glance over our land and see another risen area of soil some 100 ft from us.
Hubby's eyes widen, a sinister smiles stretches across his face as he launches an all out assault on the mole from hades. The following is a true story.
Day 2: "I can't tell if he's taking the bait. There are signs he's been there, but he keeps moving."
Day 3: "He's definately moving. The poison isn't working. I'm going to have to set it out better."
Day 4: "I've baited nearly every trail he's been in. There's rocks all over hiding the bait so I should be able to kill him."
Warning - Graphic!
On the 5th day, I walk into the kitchen as hubby is returning from the back yard. He has this glimmer in his eye, nothing too evil, yet, a very satisfied look appears. I ask, "Did you get him?" He replies, "With the shovel! I seen him moving when I was out there, so I started digging about a foot behind him. I dug up the tunnel real fast and killed him with the shovel!"
And what woman wouldn't be proud of her solider husband, defending their pecan tree against the likes of one sadistic mole?
Hope you enjoyed! We certainly did!
Until Tomorrow,
L
Sunday, May 6, 2012
It is with Great Pleasure...
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
A short and simple post to let you know how humbled I am. It is with great pleasure that I inform you, yours truly received the TOP 15 Award at Black River Technical College on April 26, 2012. Out of the 2,000+ students enrolled at both campuses, I am one of the top 15!
I was truly honored by this recognition and I can't be more pleased with my level of education that I have received and am currently receiving at this facility. A gratifying feeling knowing someone there recognized me, little ol' me, out of so many, and that I was deemed worthy of such an award.
There are so many that go unnoticed because of being shy, quiet or just generally are wallflowers. My hope is for them to speak up - be heard - be a winner!
And while this sounds like an acceptance speech for an Academy Award, well, so be it! In Arkansas, this is as close to an Academy Award as it's going to get and I'm rolling with it.
I share this award with my best friend, my lover, my strength, and my rock - My husband of nearly 10 years -- Rodney Evans. Since 2008, when I first gave humor to the notion of returning to school, he supported me unlike no other. He stood by me through the initial fear and intimidation that a returning student often goes through, reminding me that I am smart and can do anything I put my mind to. He ran our household single handedly for the first year, as I sat, crying at my desk, praying the Algebra gods would have mercy on my fallible soul as the letters mixed with numbers caused near panic attacks and shortness of breath.
Through the 60 mile commutes four days a week, keeping our vehicle running so I could get my Criminal Justice Degree and then, to re-enroll again to pursue my AA -- tending the house, the lawn, the laundry, the four children and now, the 5th due in just weeks. He is a man of epic proportion, a man of strength, values, morals and respect. A man who cares what his wife does and will do anything to support her in her decisions. Yes, this award doesn't come close to what I owe him for all he has done, but I wouldn't have it without him and that alone is why I share it with him.
I love you Rodney! Thank you for each and every thing, big and little, that you do! You are my superman!
Until tomorrow,
~L
A short and simple post to let you know how humbled I am. It is with great pleasure that I inform you, yours truly received the TOP 15 Award at Black River Technical College on April 26, 2012. Out of the 2,000+ students enrolled at both campuses, I am one of the top 15!
I was truly honored by this recognition and I can't be more pleased with my level of education that I have received and am currently receiving at this facility. A gratifying feeling knowing someone there recognized me, little ol' me, out of so many, and that I was deemed worthy of such an award.
There are so many that go unnoticed because of being shy, quiet or just generally are wallflowers. My hope is for them to speak up - be heard - be a winner!
And while this sounds like an acceptance speech for an Academy Award, well, so be it! In Arkansas, this is as close to an Academy Award as it's going to get and I'm rolling with it.
Through the 60 mile commutes four days a week, keeping our vehicle running so I could get my Criminal Justice Degree and then, to re-enroll again to pursue my AA -- tending the house, the lawn, the laundry, the four children and now, the 5th due in just weeks. He is a man of epic proportion, a man of strength, values, morals and respect. A man who cares what his wife does and will do anything to support her in her decisions. Yes, this award doesn't come close to what I owe him for all he has done, but I wouldn't have it without him and that alone is why I share it with him.
I love you Rodney! Thank you for each and every thing, big and little, that you do! You are my superman!
Until tomorrow,
~L
The Realization of Life
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
Many of you are aware of how often a light bulb turns on over your head. You have an idea, a thought or come to understand something so magnificent, you are in complete awe of your minds thinking capabilities... and if you have ever stopped by my blog, you are certain to have read a few of my own epiphanies. Well, today is no different, except that it didn't happen today, but rather, it has been happening for the last few months.
Let's say your are sitting somewhere listening to a conversation between two people. Not eavesdropping, just waiting for the right time to join in on the convo. Lets say those two people are not talking about school work, homework, work work, or anything like that, but rather, something that is common between the two of them. I'll go out on a limb and throw the subject of Zombies out there. OK, this post is about a particular professor I've been privileged to have and a classmate who has brought a smile or two with their commentary (and he's so respectful to his 'lady friend', never being derogatory in any way!).
This particular professor is infatuated, dare I say obsessed with Zombies and the A&E Show, The Walking Dead. Now, in the beginning I thought this was just a one time happening -- a short intercession if you will between class starting and roll being taken. However, the next week, the same thing... followed by the week after that and the week after that. So much so, the smiles on both conversationalists faces seemed to fascinate me. Being a fan of Vampires as opposed to Zombies, I had to find out what all the hubbub was about. Having been caught up on all my homework for one evening (gasp, how the hell did that happen?!?), I sat down in front of my families big screen, turned on the blue ray player, pressed the netflix button and within minutes, I was caught up in a whirlwind of death, tragedy, confusion and, *sigh* I must say it... A disgusting, gut wrenching, close my eyes on some parts tale that seemed to go on forever. Needless to say, I may have been converted that night -- I'll never tell!
Venturing back to class the following day, I inform said professor that I watched the first season with intent and curiosity. I fear I would not lose any sleep should I ever miss another episode, but it would be fascinating to follow up with the second season which just ended, and much to my dismay, neither would talk about it in class, except that it just keeps getting better. I sometimes caught myself wondering, "is this what two women sound like when they are discussing a new pair of shoes or a new handbag?" To see the look on their faces when they described the show and how it made them feel made me truly realize life -- no matter what your poison, everyone has a taste for something - theirs happens to be zombies while mine certainly still remains chocolate!
But it was not just seeing the two of them conversed about a show they shared in common, but the issue was with me as well. I did not have the ability to 'mesh' with their conversations as much as I would have liked to, but alas, a great teacher does not always have something in common to be a good listener or share-er of advice, wisdom, praise or self-worth.
A teacher sometimes listens and gives feedback without drawing more to the story. Sometimes she remains the quiet woman who smiles at you when you've gotten so tongue-tied all you can do is laugh. Sometimes she is the teacher who encourages you to look outside the box -- to weigh all your options, to question EVERYTHING before deciding on anything. Sometimes, just sometimes, she is the teacher who makes all the difference in the world. Out of respect for my teachers and their privacy, I will leave them nameless... but, if you are a witness to my laughing outbursts in class or my ability to seem to get one unwanted contraction in that seemingly perfect essay, then you know who you are -- and you should know that you have both made a huge impact on my life!
I salute you. Thank you for being who you are and for teaching me who I can be!
Until tomorrow,
~L
Many of you are aware of how often a light bulb turns on over your head. You have an idea, a thought or come to understand something so magnificent, you are in complete awe of your minds thinking capabilities... and if you have ever stopped by my blog, you are certain to have read a few of my own epiphanies. Well, today is no different, except that it didn't happen today, but rather, it has been happening for the last few months.
Let's say your are sitting somewhere listening to a conversation between two people. Not eavesdropping, just waiting for the right time to join in on the convo. Lets say those two people are not talking about school work, homework, work work, or anything like that, but rather, something that is common between the two of them. I'll go out on a limb and throw the subject of Zombies out there. OK, this post is about a particular professor I've been privileged to have and a classmate who has brought a smile or two with their commentary (and he's so respectful to his 'lady friend', never being derogatory in any way!).
This particular professor is infatuated, dare I say obsessed with Zombies and the A&E Show, The Walking Dead. Now, in the beginning I thought this was just a one time happening -- a short intercession if you will between class starting and roll being taken. However, the next week, the same thing... followed by the week after that and the week after that. So much so, the smiles on both conversationalists faces seemed to fascinate me. Being a fan of Vampires as opposed to Zombies, I had to find out what all the hubbub was about. Having been caught up on all my homework for one evening (gasp, how the hell did that happen?!?), I sat down in front of my families big screen, turned on the blue ray player, pressed the netflix button and within minutes, I was caught up in a whirlwind of death, tragedy, confusion and, *sigh* I must say it... A disgusting, gut wrenching, close my eyes on some parts tale that seemed to go on forever. Needless to say, I may have been converted that night -- I'll never tell!
Venturing back to class the following day, I inform said professor that I watched the first season with intent and curiosity. I fear I would not lose any sleep should I ever miss another episode, but it would be fascinating to follow up with the second season which just ended, and much to my dismay, neither would talk about it in class, except that it just keeps getting better. I sometimes caught myself wondering, "is this what two women sound like when they are discussing a new pair of shoes or a new handbag?" To see the look on their faces when they described the show and how it made them feel made me truly realize life -- no matter what your poison, everyone has a taste for something - theirs happens to be zombies while mine certainly still remains chocolate!
But it was not just seeing the two of them conversed about a show they shared in common, but the issue was with me as well. I did not have the ability to 'mesh' with their conversations as much as I would have liked to, but alas, a great teacher does not always have something in common to be a good listener or share-er of advice, wisdom, praise or self-worth.
A teacher sometimes listens and gives feedback without drawing more to the story. Sometimes she remains the quiet woman who smiles at you when you've gotten so tongue-tied all you can do is laugh. Sometimes she is the teacher who encourages you to look outside the box -- to weigh all your options, to question EVERYTHING before deciding on anything. Sometimes, just sometimes, she is the teacher who makes all the difference in the world. Out of respect for my teachers and their privacy, I will leave them nameless... but, if you are a witness to my laughing outbursts in class or my ability to seem to get one unwanted contraction in that seemingly perfect essay, then you know who you are -- and you should know that you have both made a huge impact on my life!
I salute you. Thank you for being who you are and for teaching me who I can be!
Until tomorrow,
~L
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Back In The Saddle
Hello fellow bloggers, readers, and passers-by,
It's that time of year again when we say goodbye to the fat-drenching holiday food, the mistletoe and eggnog. We welcome the new year with an open mind and hopefully, an open heart. We set aside those thoughts of contempt to make way for adoration of those who are doing well and though, sinfully, we sometimes turn green with envy to those who have a little more than we (I) do! *gasp* Yes, I want great things, too! But the difference for me: I will not sit around and wish -- I will make it happen.
So, I venture, yet again, to BRTC in hopes of putting some useful knowledge into the 'ol think-tank and maybe even have an "awe" moment by such knowledge! In any event, I refuse to give up. "Why would you give up?" they ask!
Let's regroup. Last semester, Algebra did not completely obliterate my GPA but it did take a hit. A surprise pregnancy near the end of the semester left me wondering, "Is God seriously playing a game with me?"... the answer being a loud NO just as soon as I heard the heartbeat of that miracle now growing in my tummy. And for the Pièce de résistance, not one damn person running for the presidential seat is worth listening to, much less voting for.
But I will not fret, and you, dear friend, shouldn't either. Because where there is a will, there is a way, and whether it is God, Buddha, Allah or any other deity, life will continue. We will saddle up, straighten our hat, (hopefully you have your big girl pants on) and strive to make sense of this thing called life. There is only one ending for us all -- not heaven or hell, but death in general, and I for one wanna be going 90 mph when I slide into my coffin yelling, 'man, what a ride'!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
It's that time of year again when we say goodbye to the fat-drenching holiday food, the mistletoe and eggnog. We welcome the new year with an open mind and hopefully, an open heart. We set aside those thoughts of contempt to make way for adoration of those who are doing well and though, sinfully, we sometimes turn green with envy to those who have a little more than we (I) do! *gasp* Yes, I want great things, too! But the difference for me: I will not sit around and wish -- I will make it happen.
So, I venture, yet again, to BRTC in hopes of putting some useful knowledge into the 'ol think-tank and maybe even have an "awe" moment by such knowledge! In any event, I refuse to give up. "Why would you give up?" they ask!
Let's regroup. Last semester, Algebra did not completely obliterate my GPA but it did take a hit. A surprise pregnancy near the end of the semester left me wondering, "Is God seriously playing a game with me?"... the answer being a loud NO just as soon as I heard the heartbeat of that miracle now growing in my tummy. And for the Pièce de résistance, not one damn person running for the presidential seat is worth listening to, much less voting for.
But I will not fret, and you, dear friend, shouldn't either. Because where there is a will, there is a way, and whether it is God, Buddha, Allah or any other deity, life will continue. We will saddle up, straighten our hat, (hopefully you have your big girl pants on) and strive to make sense of this thing called life. There is only one ending for us all -- not heaven or hell, but death in general, and I for one wanna be going 90 mph when I slide into my coffin yelling, 'man, what a ride'!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saying Goodbye
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
No, I'm not leaving! *tear* Thank you for your undying loyalty to my blog, though I have done nothing if not neglect it since around August... But fear not, I have not stopped entirely -- I do have a life outside of the world wide web! And today, I'll bring to you the year of 2011 -- they hype, the drama, the saga, the actors, the deaths and the ability to say "Bring it on 2012 -- Let's See What You've Got" -- right??? RIGHT!
So, the year started off on a positive note. New resolutions for many... and many that I faltered on myself... That losing weight thing crapped out after the first two months. The exercise thing after two months (only because I was EXERCISING ALL THE TIME and not losing any weight -- zero will power, also) *wink*
No, I'm not leaving! *tear* Thank you for your undying loyalty to my blog, though I have done nothing if not neglect it since around August... But fear not, I have not stopped entirely -- I do have a life outside of the world wide web! And today, I'll bring to you the year of 2011 -- they hype, the drama, the saga, the actors, the deaths and the ability to say "Bring it on 2012 -- Let's See What You've Got" -- right??? RIGHT!
So, the year started off on a positive note. New resolutions for many... and many that I faltered on myself... That losing weight thing crapped out after the first two months. The exercise thing after two months (only because I was EXERCISING ALL THE TIME and not losing any weight -- zero will power, also) *wink*
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Commercialism Vs. Spirit
Hello fellow bloggers, readers, and passers-by,
This post will probably make no sense to you, or me for that matter, but I felt the need to do it. To write something for you all to read, and to ease the tension that is slowly building up inside me. Not to mention the pain in my neck, throat, head and sinus area. Alas, I am ill. But fear not, my faithful followers, it is not the illness that will be contagious, but rather, the urge to do something... anything... to break the boredom I am so severely suffering this holiday season.
"Times are tight and moneys hard... and here's your F'in Christmas card"... yes folks, I just wrote that. Do not be bothered by it. It is nonsense really. But it is true that times are tight and that money is hard. For instance... many people have gone out, blew up their credit card balances and cleared nearly everything out of their savings account to buy into the commercialism of Christmas. Their four member households will open a more than adequate number of gifts this holiday, bragging on face book and twitter how much they received and how happy they are and their 'I can't wait until next years list' of gimme's. On the other hand, some families are happy with the simpler things. That turkey dinner they have so patiently waited for all year... complete with all the trimmings, because let's face it... Thanksgiving dinner just can't compete to Christmas dinner!
Then there are the families who have no presents, no dinner, and no one to share a greeting with. Families that have been torn apart by addiction, depression, adultery, and an onslaught of other issues that many forget exist. And while these are truly tragic events, the one that really chaps my hide are the ungrateful... the ones who want more and more and more, and are not once truly appreciative of what they have.
I'm not talking about material things. I'm talking about life. Whether you believe in God, Buddha, Allah, or other deity (or not)... you got here somehow, even if by science... and yet, we are living, breathing human beings are incapable of showing a little gratitude. Those who believe in a higher power often do for others who cannot do for themselves... but is it because they want to out of the kindness of their hearts, or because they think they will receive something in the end. I know, I know, they think its the right thing to do, so they do it... but you and I both know, whether it's on earth or in heaven, they expect something in return. Sadly, those who do not believe in a higher power will often give just because they can and want to. As you can see, being in the bible belt has it's good points and it's bad points... and I've seen enough 'christians' to know that a person is just a hypocritical walking into a church as they can be walking down an aisle at the department store.
I told you this post would not make sense... but it's starting to come together. If we are going to make it in this world, let us give with our hearts, unconditionally, rather than with our wallets on a budget. Let us become indebted to our neighbors out of the kindness we share with each other over the high prices at the store. Let's do unto others as we'd have done unto us because we genuinely care about the other person, not so we earn bragging rights about how expensive a particular gift was.
In this day and age, I can't imagine a world more ugly, filled with commercialism, hate, jealousy, greed, and contempt as I have witnessed this season. So, my family will be bucking the system. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the 24 of December will be Commercialism Day. This is the day we will give our children gifts in honor of commercialism. Between four children, they will open gifts all totaling at a value of less than 200.00. They will smile with happiness, not because they got what they wanted, but because they were loved enough to get something, and they will value that. Because it isn't the price or the gift, but the love that backs it up. How many i-pad, i-phone, xbox 360 holding fiends can say that?
But our holiday will not stop there. On December 25, we will wake up, hug each other, have breakfast together, read the story of Christ's birth (because we do believe)... Then we will visit family and share the love we have with them. And when all is said and done, our children will know the true meaning of love... not the falsification of Christmas as commercialism would have us to believe.
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
This post will probably make no sense to you, or me for that matter, but I felt the need to do it. To write something for you all to read, and to ease the tension that is slowly building up inside me. Not to mention the pain in my neck, throat, head and sinus area. Alas, I am ill. But fear not, my faithful followers, it is not the illness that will be contagious, but rather, the urge to do something... anything... to break the boredom I am so severely suffering this holiday season.
"Times are tight and moneys hard... and here's your F'in Christmas card"... yes folks, I just wrote that. Do not be bothered by it. It is nonsense really. But it is true that times are tight and that money is hard. For instance... many people have gone out, blew up their credit card balances and cleared nearly everything out of their savings account to buy into the commercialism of Christmas. Their four member households will open a more than adequate number of gifts this holiday, bragging on face book and twitter how much they received and how happy they are and their 'I can't wait until next years list' of gimme's. On the other hand, some families are happy with the simpler things. That turkey dinner they have so patiently waited for all year... complete with all the trimmings, because let's face it... Thanksgiving dinner just can't compete to Christmas dinner!
Then there are the families who have no presents, no dinner, and no one to share a greeting with. Families that have been torn apart by addiction, depression, adultery, and an onslaught of other issues that many forget exist. And while these are truly tragic events, the one that really chaps my hide are the ungrateful... the ones who want more and more and more, and are not once truly appreciative of what they have.
I'm not talking about material things. I'm talking about life. Whether you believe in God, Buddha, Allah, or other deity (or not)... you got here somehow, even if by science... and yet, we are living, breathing human beings are incapable of showing a little gratitude. Those who believe in a higher power often do for others who cannot do for themselves... but is it because they want to out of the kindness of their hearts, or because they think they will receive something in the end. I know, I know, they think its the right thing to do, so they do it... but you and I both know, whether it's on earth or in heaven, they expect something in return. Sadly, those who do not believe in a higher power will often give just because they can and want to. As you can see, being in the bible belt has it's good points and it's bad points... and I've seen enough 'christians' to know that a person is just a hypocritical walking into a church as they can be walking down an aisle at the department store.
I told you this post would not make sense... but it's starting to come together. If we are going to make it in this world, let us give with our hearts, unconditionally, rather than with our wallets on a budget. Let us become indebted to our neighbors out of the kindness we share with each other over the high prices at the store. Let's do unto others as we'd have done unto us because we genuinely care about the other person, not so we earn bragging rights about how expensive a particular gift was.
In this day and age, I can't imagine a world more ugly, filled with commercialism, hate, jealousy, greed, and contempt as I have witnessed this season. So, my family will be bucking the system. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the 24 of December will be Commercialism Day. This is the day we will give our children gifts in honor of commercialism. Between four children, they will open gifts all totaling at a value of less than 200.00. They will smile with happiness, not because they got what they wanted, but because they were loved enough to get something, and they will value that. Because it isn't the price or the gift, but the love that backs it up. How many i-pad, i-phone, xbox 360 holding fiends can say that?
But our holiday will not stop there. On December 25, we will wake up, hug each other, have breakfast together, read the story of Christ's birth (because we do believe)... Then we will visit family and share the love we have with them. And when all is said and done, our children will know the true meaning of love... not the falsification of Christmas as commercialism would have us to believe.
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Saturday, December 17, 2011
What a Slap in the Face!
Dear fellow bloggers, readers, and passers by,
I want you all to think or a moment about a tragic event that occurred on our land... America. Land of the free, home of the brave... amber waves of grain and so on... One event that, for a moment, time stopped. The earth didn't move. Life paused, hair grayed, lives were lost... and all at the hands of a foreign group of radical extremists who have no passion for life, but rather, their promised, 'life after death'... I'm talking about an event so extreme, lives were forever changed... But I will not say it. I want you to look at a picture. I want you to examine the entire picture. The object in the picture is a simple object... but the images on the object aren't so pleasant. They aren't porn or any thing illegal, so calm down. But they may cause your blood pressure to rise, you anger to increase and for a moment, you may see red... But I want it made clear, this picture is not to insight anger, hatred or bigotry towards Muslims in general... As previously posted in a blog, not all Muslims are terrorists, and not all terrorists are Muslims.
Ready? Set. Go!
I want you all to think or a moment about a tragic event that occurred on our land... America. Land of the free, home of the brave... amber waves of grain and so on... One event that, for a moment, time stopped. The earth didn't move. Life paused, hair grayed, lives were lost... and all at the hands of a foreign group of radical extremists who have no passion for life, but rather, their promised, 'life after death'... I'm talking about an event so extreme, lives were forever changed... But I will not say it. I want you to look at a picture. I want you to examine the entire picture. The object in the picture is a simple object... but the images on the object aren't so pleasant. They aren't porn or any thing illegal, so calm down. But they may cause your blood pressure to rise, you anger to increase and for a moment, you may see red... But I want it made clear, this picture is not to insight anger, hatred or bigotry towards Muslims in general... As previously posted in a blog, not all Muslims are terrorists, and not all terrorists are Muslims.
Ready? Set. Go!
I apologize for the image not being as clear as I'd like... I did not take the picture. This was shared on face book tonight by a friend of mine. When I seen the picture at first, I couldn't make out what it was... but then I made it bigger (cause with age come vision loss) and then I could see it clearly. In addition, I will not say what I see, but rather, let you decide for yourself.
One must ask the question though... Is Pepsi playing both decks of cards? Are they secretly supporting some foreign group? Are they just clueless at advertising? Or did they inadvertently post something that looks like a grim reminder for all of America to see? Either way, shame shame!
I'm not asking you to boycott Pepsi. I'm not asking you to write angry hate mail or do anything stupid! I'm simply trying to open your mind to the world around you... Because here in the Bible Belt, we get our eyes and our minds opened when we are told to, unless we decide to become HUMAN and do it ourselves!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Devil In Us All
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers by,
Allow me the opportunity to tell you something... The devil lives in us all. What? She has lost her mind! What the hell is she talking about? Please let me explain. We are human. Carnal creatures with thoughts and feelings and emotions and every other thing that make us who we are. And God made us that way. In his own likeness. With arms, and legs and hair and a brain and a heart and so on. And that is the most wonderful gift anyone could ever have... the gift of life.
But sometimes, that gift is taken advantage of. Sometimes, evil comes along and whisks it away as if it were never ours to begin with. Sometimes, the devil moves in and rather than a safety deposit, he simply makes a final withdrawal, closing out the account of our lives and forever holding hostage the things we once cherished.
I know that sounds like a ramble, but there is meaning behind it. Be patient. The bible says, 'do not pass judgement'... but we do. The bible says, 'do not commit adultery', but it happens. The bible says 'forgive those who trespass against us', but we don't, and when the bible says, ' thou shalt not have no other Gods before me', we do. Is it our own actions that cause this to happen, or the devil living inside us? I often hear people say, 'the devil made me do it'. Well, we are responsible for our own actions, thus, the devil is inside us, right?
Greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, wrath and lust. Seven of the most deadly sins... But are they really? Can we not ultimately control each one of them? Or do we like to play the blame game and spend our time relishing in the life of greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, lust and even wrath? Do we not kill our dreams when we refuse to own up to our decisions? Do we not slaughter our children's future, when we chose to lie over tell the truth? How can we call ourselves loving and forgiving souls and yet, live the way we do?
I've seen in the past 24 hours, southern people, living in the Bible Belt of America, make some of the most horrible statements against the life of a person. This person has been accused of taking the life of a child. This person also has been called a pedophile, a murderer, a killer, a soul-less creature, a person who deserves to die -- all without having been tried in court. I've witnessed people make allegations of his guilt without a shred of evidence. I've seen police officials state a confession had been made. I've also witnessed with my own eyes, three convicted men be released from prison for 'saying' they committed a crime, when I believe in my heart they did not. My question to you is this? If a person says they done something, is it true? If a person knows about something, does it mean they committed the act? The consensus from one site is the following:
"... knowing when, where and how a crime was committed means you are the killer!"
"... knowing the family members of the victim means you know everything there is to possibly know about the case at hand."
"... a person who is accused of having child pornography means they have molested their own children, their neighbors children and they should be put to death -- no questions asked."
"... being interrogated by police for hours on end to tell them nothing 'new' about a case they have talked to you about means you done the act and are going straight to hell."
But I ask you this...
When did it become OK for us to convict a person on a whim without so much as giving them a chance to defend themselves? When did it become second nature for us to say someone is guilty just because...? It's not OK with me. And for that, I will always continue to look at both sides of each and every story -- because the devil lives in us all. And I will not let him steal my ability to see past him.
Sincerely,
LaVonda
PS The term 'devil' does not necessarily mean the 'evil one', but rather, it is used as a metaphor for the evil and negative things in which we act upon.
Allow me the opportunity to tell you something... The devil lives in us all. What? She has lost her mind! What the hell is she talking about? Please let me explain. We are human. Carnal creatures with thoughts and feelings and emotions and every other thing that make us who we are. And God made us that way. In his own likeness. With arms, and legs and hair and a brain and a heart and so on. And that is the most wonderful gift anyone could ever have... the gift of life.
But sometimes, that gift is taken advantage of. Sometimes, evil comes along and whisks it away as if it were never ours to begin with. Sometimes, the devil moves in and rather than a safety deposit, he simply makes a final withdrawal, closing out the account of our lives and forever holding hostage the things we once cherished.
I know that sounds like a ramble, but there is meaning behind it. Be patient. The bible says, 'do not pass judgement'... but we do. The bible says, 'do not commit adultery', but it happens. The bible says 'forgive those who trespass against us', but we don't, and when the bible says, ' thou shalt not have no other Gods before me', we do. Is it our own actions that cause this to happen, or the devil living inside us? I often hear people say, 'the devil made me do it'. Well, we are responsible for our own actions, thus, the devil is inside us, right?
Greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, wrath and lust. Seven of the most deadly sins... But are they really? Can we not ultimately control each one of them? Or do we like to play the blame game and spend our time relishing in the life of greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, lust and even wrath? Do we not kill our dreams when we refuse to own up to our decisions? Do we not slaughter our children's future, when we chose to lie over tell the truth? How can we call ourselves loving and forgiving souls and yet, live the way we do?
I've seen in the past 24 hours, southern people, living in the Bible Belt of America, make some of the most horrible statements against the life of a person. This person has been accused of taking the life of a child. This person also has been called a pedophile, a murderer, a killer, a soul-less creature, a person who deserves to die -- all without having been tried in court. I've witnessed people make allegations of his guilt without a shred of evidence. I've seen police officials state a confession had been made. I've also witnessed with my own eyes, three convicted men be released from prison for 'saying' they committed a crime, when I believe in my heart they did not. My question to you is this? If a person says they done something, is it true? If a person knows about something, does it mean they committed the act? The consensus from one site is the following:
"... knowing when, where and how a crime was committed means you are the killer!"
"... knowing the family members of the victim means you know everything there is to possibly know about the case at hand."
"... a person who is accused of having child pornography means they have molested their own children, their neighbors children and they should be put to death -- no questions asked."
"... being interrogated by police for hours on end to tell them nothing 'new' about a case they have talked to you about means you done the act and are going straight to hell."
But I ask you this...
When did it become OK for us to convict a person on a whim without so much as giving them a chance to defend themselves? When did it become second nature for us to say someone is guilty just because...? It's not OK with me. And for that, I will always continue to look at both sides of each and every story -- because the devil lives in us all. And I will not let him steal my ability to see past him.
Sincerely,
LaVonda
PS The term 'devil' does not necessarily mean the 'evil one', but rather, it is used as a metaphor for the evil and negative things in which we act upon.
Hello Readers,
My apologies for waiting so long to write you. This semester really kicked my tail, but alas, I am here for the next two weeks and plan on venting like you wouldn't believe. First and foremost, I passed college algebra... I will not define the status of my passing grade, but I do not see that 4.0 on my GPA so you know it was a bloody battle to the finish and I came out swinging!
Now, for the heartpounding, never going to believe it, hold your breath until I finish this paragraph moment... I'm pregnant! No, this is NOT, I repeat, this is NOT a joke. Five years ago this past July, I had a tubaligation to prevent the conception of any more rugrats... four is plenty, right? Well, in the eyes of my God, he thought I was not finished having babies and in turn, has blessed my and my husband with another child. Due July 9, 2012 -- and we are praying steadfastly for a girl. We have a 13 year old girl and the remaining three are boys, 10, 7, and 5 respectively. Names have already been selected thanks to my wonderful and amazing husband who helped clear the murky water that is, finding the right name:
Kennedy Patrick for a boy
Kelley Jolinn for a girl -- He picked the first, I picked the middle -- and you know I have to share why, right? Right!
My life has been wrapped around making sure people know I'm a good person. Obeying the law, staying out of trouble, being the person my grandmother raised me to be. And I can honestly say that aside from a binge drink session everynow and then, I haven't fallen victim to the hardcore drugs that have so often broken the homes of many. In fact, I even quit smoking back in June and as of the 10th of December, I am nicotine free 6 months! Go ME!... But that isn't where I got the name. Since starting school, I've had many opportunities to blow it... to flake it off as if school didn't matter, something akin to my attitude in high school. But I can say now, with a grown up voice, that is not me. Taking a particular class with the same teacher for several semesters, you begin to open up... learn a little more about who you are and what you believe and yadda yadda.
This particular teacher encouraged me to always think before I speak, to never fall for one side of the story without reading all of it and to always voice my opinion when it is about something I truly believe in, but doing so in a tactful and pleasant way. She has also taught me how to let somethings just 'roll' like water off a duck (except I'm not a duck) -- and for that, I am truly grateful. And her name is Joan Linnsteadter. Thus, the name Jolinn. She is a strong woman, I am a strong woman, and like my previously born daughter, this one will be strong as well.
My how I have missed you... this was just to catch up!
More to come,
LaVonda
My apologies for waiting so long to write you. This semester really kicked my tail, but alas, I am here for the next two weeks and plan on venting like you wouldn't believe. First and foremost, I passed college algebra... I will not define the status of my passing grade, but I do not see that 4.0 on my GPA so you know it was a bloody battle to the finish and I came out swinging!
Now, for the heartpounding, never going to believe it, hold your breath until I finish this paragraph moment... I'm pregnant! No, this is NOT, I repeat, this is NOT a joke. Five years ago this past July, I had a tubaligation to prevent the conception of any more rugrats... four is plenty, right? Well, in the eyes of my God, he thought I was not finished having babies and in turn, has blessed my and my husband with another child. Due July 9, 2012 -- and we are praying steadfastly for a girl. We have a 13 year old girl and the remaining three are boys, 10, 7, and 5 respectively. Names have already been selected thanks to my wonderful and amazing husband who helped clear the murky water that is, finding the right name:
Kennedy Patrick for a boy
Kelley Jolinn for a girl -- He picked the first, I picked the middle -- and you know I have to share why, right? Right!
My life has been wrapped around making sure people know I'm a good person. Obeying the law, staying out of trouble, being the person my grandmother raised me to be. And I can honestly say that aside from a binge drink session everynow and then, I haven't fallen victim to the hardcore drugs that have so often broken the homes of many. In fact, I even quit smoking back in June and as of the 10th of December, I am nicotine free 6 months! Go ME!... But that isn't where I got the name. Since starting school, I've had many opportunities to blow it... to flake it off as if school didn't matter, something akin to my attitude in high school. But I can say now, with a grown up voice, that is not me. Taking a particular class with the same teacher for several semesters, you begin to open up... learn a little more about who you are and what you believe and yadda yadda.
This particular teacher encouraged me to always think before I speak, to never fall for one side of the story without reading all of it and to always voice my opinion when it is about something I truly believe in, but doing so in a tactful and pleasant way. She has also taught me how to let somethings just 'roll' like water off a duck (except I'm not a duck) -- and for that, I am truly grateful. And her name is Joan Linnsteadter. Thus, the name Jolinn. She is a strong woman, I am a strong woman, and like my previously born daughter, this one will be strong as well.
My how I have missed you... this was just to catch up!
More to come,
LaVonda
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
What the HELL was THAT?
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
Don't let that title fool you! It wasn't a UFO or Yeti or any other unexplained phenomenon, but rather... ANOTHER EPIPHANY! I'm sometimes think I'm God's little light bulb and he likes to flick the switch real fast like a kid playing with the lights. But I'm thankful for those little bursts of bright insight into life, the world, education, and what not.
For this blog, it wasn't any of the above... it was a dream. A dream that could have lasted all of thirty seconds but felt like a lifetime. Every image, remarkably clear and precise, no fuzz or blurring. Perfect scenes of life, rich and vivid color, sound as crisp as any theater system and the feeling that everything was 'alright'. A dream so remarkable... that I can't remember a damn thing! Not a face, an distinct image, a word or phrase... nothing.
So I ask you, what the HELL was THAT? Why is it, I can dream the most horrific dream, filled with gruesome images and depictions of child abuse from Be The Voice, stories laden with drama and sadness -- and I can recall each and every moment of that dream... Or the dreams that I'm flying... Not like a plane, but rather, gravity defiant, jumping from one big boulder to another, only to slowly glide down, virtually impact-free, only to be jarred awake from a buzzing alarm clock, which has died many times as I threw it against the wall...
But a dream, where complete serenity, seemingly wonderful emotional and mental state evolve, and I CAN'T remember any of it... If it were a message from God, would I not remember the message, per se? A symbol or hidden story behind something else? So frustrating!
So I will await my sleep again, in hopes that an image or a phrase or an action will stick into the deepest recesses of my mind, so that I can wake to analyze them and figure out exactly... What the HELL that was!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Don't let that title fool you! It wasn't a UFO or Yeti or any other unexplained phenomenon, but rather... ANOTHER EPIPHANY! I'm sometimes think I'm God's little light bulb and he likes to flick the switch real fast like a kid playing with the lights. But I'm thankful for those little bursts of bright insight into life, the world, education, and what not.
For this blog, it wasn't any of the above... it was a dream. A dream that could have lasted all of thirty seconds but felt like a lifetime. Every image, remarkably clear and precise, no fuzz or blurring. Perfect scenes of life, rich and vivid color, sound as crisp as any theater system and the feeling that everything was 'alright'. A dream so remarkable... that I can't remember a damn thing! Not a face, an distinct image, a word or phrase... nothing.
So I ask you, what the HELL was THAT? Why is it, I can dream the most horrific dream, filled with gruesome images and depictions of child abuse from Be The Voice, stories laden with drama and sadness -- and I can recall each and every moment of that dream... Or the dreams that I'm flying... Not like a plane, but rather, gravity defiant, jumping from one big boulder to another, only to slowly glide down, virtually impact-free, only to be jarred awake from a buzzing alarm clock, which has died many times as I threw it against the wall...
But a dream, where complete serenity, seemingly wonderful emotional and mental state evolve, and I CAN'T remember any of it... If it were a message from God, would I not remember the message, per se? A symbol or hidden story behind something else? So frustrating!
So I will await my sleep again, in hopes that an image or a phrase or an action will stick into the deepest recesses of my mind, so that I can wake to analyze them and figure out exactly... What the HELL that was!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Sunday, September 4, 2011
When is Enough Really Enough
Hello faithful readers and passers-by,
It's been a while since I graced your presence with a note worthy blog post. I'm extremely tired and probably slightly delusional as I write this. In fact, I do not even guarantee that it will make one concise thought plainly relevant. But I will muddle through with every best intention of spilling my brain on the keys in hopes that they will press correctly!
And I have no exact blog in mind. I've thought all day about what to write. I've blogged about other stuff on other blogs, but now, when I'm given the opportunity to write for fun, I'm too tired. And the cause for that tired, sluggish, liquid-brain feeling is Algebra... College Algebra to be exact.
I think back immediately to the first time I seen an algebraic equation. For some of you, it will seem very late in school. I was in the Sixth Grade at Southland C-9 in Cardwell. I had seen simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and, of course, long hand division. And I'd had my fair share of the dreaded reading problems. But when I seen 6 - n = 3, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. I could do algebra, no problem! It looked easy and I didn't even have to think about it. I zipped through those problems like a knife slicing melted butter!
In high school, it was pretty much the same, for the most part. I would get a little confused every now and then, but all in all, I had it licked. And when I graduated, I was certain I had taken with me the most parts I would ever need. Boy, was I mistaken!
August 2008, I entered into college. I hadn't seen a math problem, aside from how many cups would I need to bake a specific recipe, but I didn't think I'd forgotten much. Math was like riding a bike, once you learn, you never forget, right? W-R-O-N-G!
I walked into Intro to Algebra (because I only scored high enough on the entrance exam to skip pre-algebra), and I immediately felt a huge lump in my throat. Thankfully, my professor could sense my fear and broke us into it rather gently. The end of the semester landed me an A on my transcript. And after the holidays, I would re-enter the class a grade up -- Intermediate Algebra.
thinking I had this licked, I didn't practice over the holidays and when classes started, it seemed like I had forgotten it all over again. Only this time, we didn't start out easy. We dove head first into the black abyss that is, Intermediate Algebra.
I managed a doggie-paddle maneuver that kept my head above water, but every now and then, a rip tide would grab me and pull me under... Scathing by with a B for my final grade and countless nights of terroristic dreams of x's and y's haunting me with a red ink pen and a devilish grin. Sure that I would never have to face an algebraic expression/equation/factor/polynomial/any-nomial ever again, I did not take any more math classes. Why? Because I had selected my degree based on how much MATH was required. Needless to say, I only cheated myself.
Because as I pen this blog post, I am faced with a folder full of COLLEGE ALGEBRA problems that are due Wednesday and I've not even finished one problem. Not because I'm lazy and don't care, but because I honestly do not know how to do it. I can't remember. The part of my brain that requires memorization of math rules has fallen into a coma and may never awaken. I've put my book on my head in hopes that scientific osmosis would occur with no avail. I've repeated the phrase, "I love math and math loves me" in the mirror and still can't say it with a ounce of honest faith. I have caressed my math book as a writer would caress his favorite type writer before beginning his next award winning novel and she has yet to respond to me. Lo, I feel as if I'm fighting a losing battle all the while, she mocks me -- taunts me with promises of A's only to end in a mental breakdown.
I can only hope that my ginko biloba will begin working and that the deep breathing exercises I am starting will help get some additional oxygen to that comatose part of my brain. And that my niece, whom I love dearly, can beat something into my thick skull over a plate of Labor Day food tomorrow! If not, well... there are no ifs. Either it will work, or it won't work, but I am hopeful!
On a positive note, however... As long as there is Algebra in schools, there will also be prayer! ~Cokie Roberts
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
It's been a while since I graced your presence with a note worthy blog post. I'm extremely tired and probably slightly delusional as I write this. In fact, I do not even guarantee that it will make one concise thought plainly relevant. But I will muddle through with every best intention of spilling my brain on the keys in hopes that they will press correctly!
And I have no exact blog in mind. I've thought all day about what to write. I've blogged about other stuff on other blogs, but now, when I'm given the opportunity to write for fun, I'm too tired. And the cause for that tired, sluggish, liquid-brain feeling is Algebra... College Algebra to be exact.
In high school, it was pretty much the same, for the most part. I would get a little confused every now and then, but all in all, I had it licked. And when I graduated, I was certain I had taken with me the most parts I would ever need. Boy, was I mistaken!August 2008, I entered into college. I hadn't seen a math problem, aside from how many cups would I need to bake a specific recipe, but I didn't think I'd forgotten much. Math was like riding a bike, once you learn, you never forget, right? W-R-O-N-G!
thinking I had this licked, I didn't practice over the holidays and when classes started, it seemed like I had forgotten it all over again. Only this time, we didn't start out easy. We dove head first into the black abyss that is, Intermediate Algebra.
I managed a doggie-paddle maneuver that kept my head above water, but every now and then, a rip tide would grab me and pull me under... Scathing by with a B for my final grade and countless nights of terroristic dreams of x's and y's haunting me with a red ink pen and a devilish grin. Sure that I would never have to face an algebraic expression/equation/factor/polynomial/any-nomial ever again, I did not take any more math classes. Why? Because I had selected my degree based on how much MATH was required. Needless to say, I only cheated myself.
Because as I pen this blog post, I am faced with a folder full of COLLEGE ALGEBRA problems that are due Wednesday and I've not even finished one problem. Not because I'm lazy and don't care, but because I honestly do not know how to do it. I can't remember. The part of my brain that requires memorization of math rules has fallen into a coma and may never awaken. I've put my book on my head in hopes that scientific osmosis would occur with no avail. I've repeated the phrase, "I love math and math loves me" in the mirror and still can't say it with a ounce of honest faith. I have caressed my math book as a writer would caress his favorite type writer before beginning his next award winning novel and she has yet to respond to me. Lo, I feel as if I'm fighting a losing battle all the while, she mocks me -- taunts me with promises of A's only to end in a mental breakdown. I can only hope that my ginko biloba will begin working and that the deep breathing exercises I am starting will help get some additional oxygen to that comatose part of my brain. And that my niece, whom I love dearly, can beat something into my thick skull over a plate of Labor Day food tomorrow! If not, well... there are no ifs. Either it will work, or it won't work, but I am hopeful! On a positive note, however... As long as there is Algebra in schools, there will also be prayer! ~Cokie Roberts
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Saturday, August 13, 2011
63 Days of Living
Weird title, I know. But I can't begin to tell you what it means to me. I'm 31 years old. When I was 16, riding around cruising the streets of the city, I thought it would be cool to be 'like' my friend -- light up a cigarette and be cool. Like a fool, I had disregarded the fact that I had chronic bronchitis from a young age and asthma that had almost disappeared by the time I was 15 -- and I STILL picked up smoking. Hindsight truly is 20/20.
For the last 16 years, I was bound by the addictive qualities of tobacco. I would not have ever considered myself addicted because I always thought, "I can quit whenever I want... I just don't want to quit right now." Boy was I wrong. I tried quitting when I was 18 -- made it a couple weeks. Little did I know that would be the longest I would ever make it... Until now. Over the course of the years, I had smoked more than 54,204 cigarettes. (9 X 365 X 16.5) <-- for the Math fans out there!
I smoked through 4 pregnancies, risking my babies for that rush of satisfaction from a nice, sweet pull from a cancerous stick of temporary pleasure. Risking my ability to breathe, my ability to taste, to smell. Risking 7 minutes of my life for every cigarette I smoked -- and in my defense: I only smoked 9 cigarettes a day. Technically less than a half a pack a day. I knew smokers who hit the 3pack/day mark. I wasn't addicted. I was a casual smoker. I didn't smoke in the house. I never smoked in the house. I always went outside. But that didn't mean anything to my lungs. Like I was somehow lessening the fact that smoke was dangerous if I was mixing it with fresh air as opposed to 'recirculated indoor air'. I would never light a cigarette and put it down to do something else. I would finish my cigarette and then go back to what I was doing. Sometimes, I would push myself... If I was in the middle of a project, I would encourage myself to finish the project and then enjoy the smoke... But I was really finishing 'myself' -- that smoke was the polish to my casket.
Until one day in May of 2011. I had awoke that morning feeling sluggish. You know that feverish-body aching-god help me through the day mornings where you didn't want to do anything but stay in bed because even your skin hurt. I could handle all that. What I could not handle was not being able to breathe. I could not talk or catch my breath. I could not stop coughing, literally. Every breath in was followed by a hacking session, and every breath out, the same. Around noon, I thought I felt better and so like any smoker who is addicted, I ventured outside to get a drag. Bad idea. Coughing subsided, but the headache was horrible. Back inside, I felt chilled again, so I went back to bed. By midnight I was even more miserable. I had a temperature of 102. To many, that is barely a fever. But a person with low body temperature that is 'normally' 94, 102 is like 106 for others. And the coughing had returned with a vengeance.
Having four children and fearing I had contracted pneumonia or something worse (I was working in a childcare based medical facility), I drove myself to the local emergency room. Managing to make it through the initial triage, I am told my pulse/oxygen is 93. Well, that can't be good!?! Waiting to get called back to the treatment room, I start thinking about how people inflict pain on the people they care about. My brief thoughts of self-induced narcissism develop and disappear before I can process my next thought. "What if I die?"
That is not something I like to think about because depressing thoughts are the death of life, not being buried 6 feet under. When you are depressed, you are truly cheating yourself. Being buried is what happens after you've lived. Being the optimistic that I am, I start thinking about good things, only to be brought back to that previous thought, "What if I die?"... Who would help my husband take care of my babies? Who would take care of my husband? How would someone explain to my children how much I love them? Who would help my 85 year old grandmother when she needed someone to call the cable/phone company because she misplaced her payment to them? Who would pay for my burial? How would anyone delete all my stuff online? Would I go to heaven? Some thoughts were a little superficial and dramatic, but my thoughts, nevertheless.
Going through the medical examination, I kept letting those thoughts creep back up. And then, like any Scorpio with a thirst for success, I decided then and there, I would not let those thoughts have a reason to creep up ever again. After a painful breathing shot in the subcutaneous tissue of my stomach and two breathing treatments and 6 damn prescription medications, I drive myself home, with one thought on my mind: Am I ever going to taste a cigarette again? After all that, I still thought about a cigarette. But I was still determined to beat this addiction.
Arriving home just in time to see my children get on the school bus, I explain to my husband what the doctor said and tell him (he's a smoker/dipper) that I've decided to get help. I tell him I am going to stop smoking and I need his support. He said OK. Now, keep in mind, we've both tried quitting before and we both know how I am when I have cravings for a cigarette! BITCH DEVIL INCARNATE! So we both knew this was going to be hard. But it was nothing like I anticipated.
Getting online, I found the quit smoking website and phone number for my state. (You can find it as well, just google "quit smoking in _________ "). I took a deep breath (immediately followed by a 2 minute coughing session, which reassured me I was doing the right thing) and made the call. I was greeted by a friendly voice who helped me register, offered me medication to help curb the cravings and was told I could call ANYTIME I needed to for support. The entire process took about 20 minutes. I had a quit date set, a quit coach hot line and a website for additional information. I followed the instructions, which were basically, track my smoking habits for 1 week. Keep a journal/record of when I smoke more, where I'm at, what I'm doing, etc. when I smoke a cigarette. Simple enough. And was I surprised.
After meals was the strongest cravings. Agitated/angry moods were the fastest smokes with the most 'chain smoking' sessions. Stressful situations were the slowest smokes with the most times smoking (and my job was VERY stressful, so I smoked a lot when I was off work). After sex, driving, talking on the phone all had me with a cigarette in my hand. One week later, my patches, quit guide and ally guide arrived in the mail. And the following day, my brother overdosed -- Talk about stress! Luckily, I had not reached my quit date so I was OK. But my lungs were still very tender from coughing. I used my inhaler nearly 6 times a day. And I was still smoking. I still couldn't taste anything because of the severity of the sinus infection that came with the Chronic Bronchitis and bronchiospams the doctor had diagnosed me with. Still, I was determined that June 10th would be my quit date, come hell or high water... And I was hoping I could do it.
My husband read the ally guide and came to me with three questions.
1.) Are you sure you WANT to quit?
2.) What should I do if you ask me for a cigarette?
3.) What can I do to show you I support you?
Now, being a bookworm, I did not really take into account the ally book. I think it's great they sent it, but I didn't read it -- I'm my worst enemy, I do not find ME to be an ally to myself. I did read and use the Quit Now book. It helped me to better understand triggers and learn coping strategies.
June 10th arrives and I think, I can't quit. I can't do it. I don't know if I am strong enough. But that night, at 11:30pm, I went outside, still unable to taste a damn thing, and smoked what would be my last cigarette. And said goodbye to a 'friend', an 'acquaintance', a 'shoulder' and an 'chain'.
June 11th, I put on my new best friend. My 21 mg. Nicotine patch... and for the next 8 weeks, I would slowly lower the Mg's to 7, finishing on August 5th and being completely Nicotine free. The first day without a patch was scary. I kept seeing myself freaking out like I did when I had quit smoking before, not having the nicotine to keep me afloat. The second day was much much harder. I had managed to temporarily alienate my entire family, warning them that nicotine deprivation was something akin to PMS only worse -- they ran for cover! The third day was completely easy. No anger, no stress, no creepy thoughts. I swear it was like I had a patch on again... and every day since then has been the same way. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a little more on edge in that agitating sounds really push my buttons a lot easier. I have a lower tolerance for bullshit or drama. And I deal with those issues a different way.
You've all heard the song, "Pray for you" by Jaron and the Long Road to Love. I laugh every time I hear that song because it is completely WRONG for any time of prayers... but it makes me laugh all the same. When I'm pissed, I come to my bedroom, close the door and turn that song up just as loud as I can get my computer to play it. The speakers whine from pain, but I sing it just as loud as I can... and by the time the song is over, I feel better. I suppose, masochistically, I'm singing those lyrics to Nicotine.
When all else fails, depend on Psychology. I'm a college student minoring in Psych. and cognitive behavioral therapy, while sounding completely dull and boring really helped me. The basis of this theory of learning is that we think a behavior. Well, I would 'think' about cigarettes in my 8 weeks of quitting smoking. Not for long, but it bothered me that I would think about them. I would dream about them, too. And that really can dampen your 'successful spirits'. So, like any person wanting to change that thought process, I bought a rubber band. Large enough to fit my wrist, but small enough that it wouldn't fall off. Every time I thought about a cigarette, whether it was smoking it, smelling it, seeing it in my mind, or seeing someone else smoking, I would snap the rubber band.
thought + snap + pain = training the brain to recognize those images and thoughts as painful. The product: a reconstructed thought process that eliminates smoking thoughts as frequently.
It was not easy, but it wasn't hard. I still occasionally think about those damn things, but it's a hate thought, not a reminiscing thought. I can't stand the smell of a cigarette. I can't stand the look of a cigarette. I can't stand THEM!
And it's been 63 days of living for me... I've saved $75.00 and I've added 58.8 hours back to my life.
And you can do this, too! I can taste food. I can jog a half mile (30 second intervals/walking) and I can smell how wonderful and clean my house is after I clean it! Petty for some, BIG MILESTONE FOR ME! You can reach this milestone, too!
Feel free to contact me at lavonda_evans@hotmail.com if you need a friend to help you... Just put "friendly ally" in the subject bar.
It feels great to be able to say I'm a non-smoker. It feels great to have my independence back. It feels great (though the scales disagree) to enjoy food again. I've put on a couple pounds... and that I can deal with!
Until Tomorrow,
LaVonda
For the last 16 years, I was bound by the addictive qualities of tobacco. I would not have ever considered myself addicted because I always thought, "I can quit whenever I want... I just don't want to quit right now." Boy was I wrong. I tried quitting when I was 18 -- made it a couple weeks. Little did I know that would be the longest I would ever make it... Until now. Over the course of the years, I had smoked more than 54,204 cigarettes. (9 X 365 X 16.5) <-- for the Math fans out there!
I smoked through 4 pregnancies, risking my babies for that rush of satisfaction from a nice, sweet pull from a cancerous stick of temporary pleasure. Risking my ability to breathe, my ability to taste, to smell. Risking 7 minutes of my life for every cigarette I smoked -- and in my defense: I only smoked 9 cigarettes a day. Technically less than a half a pack a day. I knew smokers who hit the 3pack/day mark. I wasn't addicted. I was a casual smoker. I didn't smoke in the house. I never smoked in the house. I always went outside. But that didn't mean anything to my lungs. Like I was somehow lessening the fact that smoke was dangerous if I was mixing it with fresh air as opposed to 'recirculated indoor air'. I would never light a cigarette and put it down to do something else. I would finish my cigarette and then go back to what I was doing. Sometimes, I would push myself... If I was in the middle of a project, I would encourage myself to finish the project and then enjoy the smoke... But I was really finishing 'myself' -- that smoke was the polish to my casket.
Until one day in May of 2011. I had awoke that morning feeling sluggish. You know that feverish-body aching-god help me through the day mornings where you didn't want to do anything but stay in bed because even your skin hurt. I could handle all that. What I could not handle was not being able to breathe. I could not talk or catch my breath. I could not stop coughing, literally. Every breath in was followed by a hacking session, and every breath out, the same. Around noon, I thought I felt better and so like any smoker who is addicted, I ventured outside to get a drag. Bad idea. Coughing subsided, but the headache was horrible. Back inside, I felt chilled again, so I went back to bed. By midnight I was even more miserable. I had a temperature of 102. To many, that is barely a fever. But a person with low body temperature that is 'normally' 94, 102 is like 106 for others. And the coughing had returned with a vengeance.
Having four children and fearing I had contracted pneumonia or something worse (I was working in a childcare based medical facility), I drove myself to the local emergency room. Managing to make it through the initial triage, I am told my pulse/oxygen is 93. Well, that can't be good!?! Waiting to get called back to the treatment room, I start thinking about how people inflict pain on the people they care about. My brief thoughts of self-induced narcissism develop and disappear before I can process my next thought. "What if I die?"
That is not something I like to think about because depressing thoughts are the death of life, not being buried 6 feet under. When you are depressed, you are truly cheating yourself. Being buried is what happens after you've lived. Being the optimistic that I am, I start thinking about good things, only to be brought back to that previous thought, "What if I die?"... Who would help my husband take care of my babies? Who would take care of my husband? How would someone explain to my children how much I love them? Who would help my 85 year old grandmother when she needed someone to call the cable/phone company because she misplaced her payment to them? Who would pay for my burial? How would anyone delete all my stuff online? Would I go to heaven? Some thoughts were a little superficial and dramatic, but my thoughts, nevertheless.
Going through the medical examination, I kept letting those thoughts creep back up. And then, like any Scorpio with a thirst for success, I decided then and there, I would not let those thoughts have a reason to creep up ever again. After a painful breathing shot in the subcutaneous tissue of my stomach and two breathing treatments and 6 damn prescription medications, I drive myself home, with one thought on my mind: Am I ever going to taste a cigarette again? After all that, I still thought about a cigarette. But I was still determined to beat this addiction.
Arriving home just in time to see my children get on the school bus, I explain to my husband what the doctor said and tell him (he's a smoker/dipper) that I've decided to get help. I tell him I am going to stop smoking and I need his support. He said OK. Now, keep in mind, we've both tried quitting before and we both know how I am when I have cravings for a cigarette! BITCH DEVIL INCARNATE! So we both knew this was going to be hard. But it was nothing like I anticipated.
Getting online, I found the quit smoking website and phone number for my state. (You can find it as well, just google "quit smoking in _________ "). I took a deep breath (immediately followed by a 2 minute coughing session, which reassured me I was doing the right thing) and made the call. I was greeted by a friendly voice who helped me register, offered me medication to help curb the cravings and was told I could call ANYTIME I needed to for support. The entire process took about 20 minutes. I had a quit date set, a quit coach hot line and a website for additional information. I followed the instructions, which were basically, track my smoking habits for 1 week. Keep a journal/record of when I smoke more, where I'm at, what I'm doing, etc. when I smoke a cigarette. Simple enough. And was I surprised.
After meals was the strongest cravings. Agitated/angry moods were the fastest smokes with the most 'chain smoking' sessions. Stressful situations were the slowest smokes with the most times smoking (and my job was VERY stressful, so I smoked a lot when I was off work). After sex, driving, talking on the phone all had me with a cigarette in my hand. One week later, my patches, quit guide and ally guide arrived in the mail. And the following day, my brother overdosed -- Talk about stress! Luckily, I had not reached my quit date so I was OK. But my lungs were still very tender from coughing. I used my inhaler nearly 6 times a day. And I was still smoking. I still couldn't taste anything because of the severity of the sinus infection that came with the Chronic Bronchitis and bronchiospams the doctor had diagnosed me with. Still, I was determined that June 10th would be my quit date, come hell or high water... And I was hoping I could do it.
My husband read the ally guide and came to me with three questions.
1.) Are you sure you WANT to quit?
2.) What should I do if you ask me for a cigarette?
3.) What can I do to show you I support you?
Now, being a bookworm, I did not really take into account the ally book. I think it's great they sent it, but I didn't read it -- I'm my worst enemy, I do not find ME to be an ally to myself. I did read and use the Quit Now book. It helped me to better understand triggers and learn coping strategies.
June 10th arrives and I think, I can't quit. I can't do it. I don't know if I am strong enough. But that night, at 11:30pm, I went outside, still unable to taste a damn thing, and smoked what would be my last cigarette. And said goodbye to a 'friend', an 'acquaintance', a 'shoulder' and an 'chain'.
June 11th, I put on my new best friend. My 21 mg. Nicotine patch... and for the next 8 weeks, I would slowly lower the Mg's to 7, finishing on August 5th and being completely Nicotine free. The first day without a patch was scary. I kept seeing myself freaking out like I did when I had quit smoking before, not having the nicotine to keep me afloat. The second day was much much harder. I had managed to temporarily alienate my entire family, warning them that nicotine deprivation was something akin to PMS only worse -- they ran for cover! The third day was completely easy. No anger, no stress, no creepy thoughts. I swear it was like I had a patch on again... and every day since then has been the same way. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a little more on edge in that agitating sounds really push my buttons a lot easier. I have a lower tolerance for bullshit or drama. And I deal with those issues a different way.
You've all heard the song, "Pray for you" by Jaron and the Long Road to Love. I laugh every time I hear that song because it is completely WRONG for any time of prayers... but it makes me laugh all the same. When I'm pissed, I come to my bedroom, close the door and turn that song up just as loud as I can get my computer to play it. The speakers whine from pain, but I sing it just as loud as I can... and by the time the song is over, I feel better. I suppose, masochistically, I'm singing those lyrics to Nicotine.
When all else fails, depend on Psychology. I'm a college student minoring in Psych. and cognitive behavioral therapy, while sounding completely dull and boring really helped me. The basis of this theory of learning is that we think a behavior. Well, I would 'think' about cigarettes in my 8 weeks of quitting smoking. Not for long, but it bothered me that I would think about them. I would dream about them, too. And that really can dampen your 'successful spirits'. So, like any person wanting to change that thought process, I bought a rubber band. Large enough to fit my wrist, but small enough that it wouldn't fall off. Every time I thought about a cigarette, whether it was smoking it, smelling it, seeing it in my mind, or seeing someone else smoking, I would snap the rubber band.
thought + snap + pain = training the brain to recognize those images and thoughts as painful. The product: a reconstructed thought process that eliminates smoking thoughts as frequently.
It was not easy, but it wasn't hard. I still occasionally think about those damn things, but it's a hate thought, not a reminiscing thought. I can't stand the smell of a cigarette. I can't stand the look of a cigarette. I can't stand THEM!
And it's been 63 days of living for me... I've saved $75.00 and I've added 58.8 hours back to my life.
And you can do this, too! I can taste food. I can jog a half mile (30 second intervals/walking) and I can smell how wonderful and clean my house is after I clean it! Petty for some, BIG MILESTONE FOR ME! You can reach this milestone, too!
Feel free to contact me at lavonda_evans@hotmail.com if you need a friend to help you... Just put "friendly ally" in the subject bar.
It feels great to be able to say I'm a non-smoker. It feels great to have my independence back. It feels great (though the scales disagree) to enjoy food again. I've put on a couple pounds... and that I can deal with!
Until Tomorrow,
LaVonda
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Government Knows...
Good Morning fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
I shall not humor you with images of eye candy like the previous blogpost. I will not bore you nay-sayers with religious propoganda, nor will I feed your over-blown ego's with right wing/left wing extremist views of why religion is an issue at all. Today, I will tell you the government sucks big goose eggs and the majority of them have given the majority of us a greater reason to encourage educations -- "What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Answer: A politician!" **GASP** "
I shall not humor you with images of eye candy like the previous blogpost. I will not bore you nay-sayers with religious propoganda, nor will I feed your over-blown ego's with right wing/left wing extremist views of why religion is an issue at all. Today, I will tell you the government sucks big goose eggs and the majority of them have given the majority of us a greater reason to encourage educations -- "What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Answer: A politician!" **GASP** "
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Brand New Jones
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
After getting all the school shopping done and cleaning out the closets and baking and what not, I thought I would blog. But this wouldn't be a ranting blog, or a bitching blog, or a blog about death and destruction, or religion. This blog will be a dedication... A dedication to Hollywood and to the masses that flock to the theaters in droves to see the next big flick!
So for you, my readers, I bring you some new (and old) Jones!!!
Ready?
Donnie Wahlberg --
In closing, take a moment to reflect back to who you had a Jones for in elementary school. Bet you can still pick them out in a movie or on a set. Thank you Hollywood for the memories!
Until Tomorrow,
LaVonda
After getting all the school shopping done and cleaning out the closets and baking and what not, I thought I would blog. But this wouldn't be a ranting blog, or a bitching blog, or a blog about death and destruction, or religion. This blog will be a dedication... A dedication to Hollywood and to the masses that flock to the theaters in droves to see the next big flick!
So for you, my readers, I bring you some new (and old) Jones!!!
Ready?
Number 10. Eric Bana
Number 9. Channing Tatum
Number 8. George Clooney
Number 7. Nicholas Cage
Number 6. Ryan Kwanten
Number 5. Sam Elliot
Number 4. Matthew McConaughey
Number 3. Gerard Butler
Number 2. Tie: Robert Pattinson
Number 2. Tie: Taylor Lautner
And the winner is...
Donnie Wahlberg -- No ladies, it's not because he's sporting a gun and badge (though, ask me again in a little while...) He has been a hero of mine ever since 5th friggin grade when he was part of the boy band, New Kids On The Block... And he still has a little spot in my heart!
My favorite song! What a blast from the past!
In closing, take a moment to reflect back to who you had a Jones for in elementary school. Bet you can still pick them out in a movie or on a set. Thank you Hollywood for the memories!
Until Tomorrow,
LaVonda
Friday, August 5, 2011
Lack of Concern Where Concern Is Due...
I'm going to skip the intros because I'm so pissed right now I can't see straight. You all know I have four children and my children are my LIFE! And I entrust certain individuals to look after my children, specifically the Church my children go to. It's a local Pentecostal church in the city I live in. And when I trust them to watch after my children, I expect them to reciprocate a certain amount of concern. If I were watching their children, what would they expect of me? Tit for tat, right?
Well, apparently, several persons at the church they go to think it's OK to just disregard a parent. Blow them off as if they don't fucking matter! Well, FUCK THAT!
My children, aged 13, 10, and almost 7 have attended this church for nearly 2 years. In those two years they have participated in a number of functions, all under the "UMBRELLA" of the Pastor. Yes, I trust a preacher man... I USED to trust him.
Over the last three months, shady things have been happening at the church involving my children. For instance, during Church Youth Camp. Three days and three nights, my two oldest children were chaperoned by members of the same sex at the hotel in town. Why they rent a hotel rather than just meet up at the church everyday, I will never know. But they do. Women and girls in one room, men and boys in another. I do not have ONE problem with that. I do, however, have a problem when my daughter is told she will have a place to sleep, then all of a sudden, one of the women spill grape juice on my daughters side of the fucking bed, forcing her to sleep on the floor. OK... Accidents happen. But on night number two, one of the WOMEN... GROWN WOMEN, invited one of her friends to stay the night. This invited woman does NOT go to their church. Yet she was important enough to make my daughter sleep on the floor the next two nights as well. BULL SHIT! And to make matters worse, the invited woman started prank calling some GUY... Yeah, grown women and teen girls in the same room, and a GROWN woman prank calls a guy, as if it's funny or something. Are they not aware that teen girls are very impressionable and tend to look up to the elders of a church for guidance and model behavior. So I have to explain to my daughter when she arrives home that prank calls are immature and not in good taste. And I explain to her the right thing to do would be to tell the pastor. Pastors, like parents, do not ALWAYS know what's going on. A couple of weeks later, she tells me that she told the pastor and he said that behavior would not be happening anymore.
Second instance, my son, during youth camp, is at the water park with members of the church. But rather than getting wet at the water park in 99+ temperatures, he is made to play at the park with the equipment while the girls get to partake of the water elements. Then, without even a care or concern, I get a call from my son telling me that he was at the skate park riding some random person's skateboard and falls, knocking the air out of his lungs, bruising his elbow (about the size of a damn grapefruit) and scratching his back up. The church never called me. He called me and said, "If I look like I've been beat up, don't worry." Ummm, OK... WTF! More so, the adults were all under the pavillion, which is nearly 100 yards away from the skatepark. Granted, my son is 10 and could yell loud enough that he MIGHT draw attention if someone was taking off with him, but what about 'responsible adults' and their role in the events? Total lack of concern! I guess they think that abductions and child murders don't happen because in their delusional world full of holy ghosts and prayer that all children will be ok... Ummm, why don't they ask The Yates Children, or Caylee Anthony or the other 100,000+ children that are abducted/killed/sold how that whole Christian Belief is working for THEM! dammit!
Instance number 3... Oh yea, it gets better. My almost 7 year old started attending about 2 weeks ago. And in those two weeks he said he has a blast. I on the other hand find myself up at 11:21pm writing this fucking blog because the three of them were invited to a church party from 6pm to 9pm... and they JUST GOT HOME! They just walked through the FUCKING door! No call from anyone, except my youngest to tell me he's tired. Then, a woman gets on the phone and says, they will be home shortly. That was at 9:30... Ummm, where the hell is 'shortly' in 2 damned hours? I would hate to know what they consider a lengthy amount of time!
And to top it all off, I call the pastor at 11pm to inquire on the whereabouts of my children. His words, "I don't know." Let me fucking repeat that for you... "I DON'T KNOW"...
Ahem... let me calm down. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
He then tells me that he wasn't there tonight. Ummm, the pastor... wasn't there... at a church function... No, instead, the same WOMEN who were prank calling guys at Church camp were directing this shindig. OMFG!
Now I have to be the bad parent because I will not tolerate this church any longer. Their genuine neglect of my children has forced me to make the ultimate decision. I will not allow my children to attend that church any longer. I've had enough of their total lack of respect for me as a parent, their lack of respect for my children, who believe it or not, do get tired after a long day. I will, however, forgive them, because that is the christian thing to do... But I will not forget it. EVER! My children are my world and they better fucking believe that!
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
~L
Well, apparently, several persons at the church they go to think it's OK to just disregard a parent. Blow them off as if they don't fucking matter! Well, FUCK THAT!
My children, aged 13, 10, and almost 7 have attended this church for nearly 2 years. In those two years they have participated in a number of functions, all under the "UMBRELLA" of the Pastor. Yes, I trust a preacher man... I USED to trust him.
Over the last three months, shady things have been happening at the church involving my children. For instance, during Church Youth Camp. Three days and three nights, my two oldest children were chaperoned by members of the same sex at the hotel in town. Why they rent a hotel rather than just meet up at the church everyday, I will never know. But they do. Women and girls in one room, men and boys in another. I do not have ONE problem with that. I do, however, have a problem when my daughter is told she will have a place to sleep, then all of a sudden, one of the women spill grape juice on my daughters side of the fucking bed, forcing her to sleep on the floor. OK... Accidents happen. But on night number two, one of the WOMEN... GROWN WOMEN, invited one of her friends to stay the night. This invited woman does NOT go to their church. Yet she was important enough to make my daughter sleep on the floor the next two nights as well. BULL SHIT! And to make matters worse, the invited woman started prank calling some GUY... Yeah, grown women and teen girls in the same room, and a GROWN woman prank calls a guy, as if it's funny or something. Are they not aware that teen girls are very impressionable and tend to look up to the elders of a church for guidance and model behavior. So I have to explain to my daughter when she arrives home that prank calls are immature and not in good taste. And I explain to her the right thing to do would be to tell the pastor. Pastors, like parents, do not ALWAYS know what's going on. A couple of weeks later, she tells me that she told the pastor and he said that behavior would not be happening anymore.
Second instance, my son, during youth camp, is at the water park with members of the church. But rather than getting wet at the water park in 99+ temperatures, he is made to play at the park with the equipment while the girls get to partake of the water elements. Then, without even a care or concern, I get a call from my son telling me that he was at the skate park riding some random person's skateboard and falls, knocking the air out of his lungs, bruising his elbow (about the size of a damn grapefruit) and scratching his back up. The church never called me. He called me and said, "If I look like I've been beat up, don't worry." Ummm, OK... WTF! More so, the adults were all under the pavillion, which is nearly 100 yards away from the skatepark. Granted, my son is 10 and could yell loud enough that he MIGHT draw attention if someone was taking off with him, but what about 'responsible adults' and their role in the events? Total lack of concern! I guess they think that abductions and child murders don't happen because in their delusional world full of holy ghosts and prayer that all children will be ok... Ummm, why don't they ask The Yates Children, or Caylee Anthony or the other 100,000+ children that are abducted/killed/sold how that whole Christian Belief is working for THEM! dammit!
Instance number 3... Oh yea, it gets better. My almost 7 year old started attending about 2 weeks ago. And in those two weeks he said he has a blast. I on the other hand find myself up at 11:21pm writing this fucking blog because the three of them were invited to a church party from 6pm to 9pm... and they JUST GOT HOME! They just walked through the FUCKING door! No call from anyone, except my youngest to tell me he's tired. Then, a woman gets on the phone and says, they will be home shortly. That was at 9:30... Ummm, where the hell is 'shortly' in 2 damned hours? I would hate to know what they consider a lengthy amount of time!
And to top it all off, I call the pastor at 11pm to inquire on the whereabouts of my children. His words, "I don't know." Let me fucking repeat that for you... "I DON'T KNOW"...
Ahem... let me calm down. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
He then tells me that he wasn't there tonight. Ummm, the pastor... wasn't there... at a church function... No, instead, the same WOMEN who were prank calling guys at Church camp were directing this shindig. OMFG!
Now I have to be the bad parent because I will not tolerate this church any longer. Their genuine neglect of my children has forced me to make the ultimate decision. I will not allow my children to attend that church any longer. I've had enough of their total lack of respect for me as a parent, their lack of respect for my children, who believe it or not, do get tired after a long day. I will, however, forgive them, because that is the christian thing to do... But I will not forget it. EVER! My children are my world and they better fucking believe that!
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
~L
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The End of the Nocturnal Era
Good Morning fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
This morning I sit before my computer with a head full of stuff. But cannot categorically put it all together. Rambles of this, tidbits of that. All perfectly coherent thoughts, but they are going so fast, it's hard for me to keep up with them. No, I'm not insane and to my knowledge, I'm not a victim of adult ADHD -- trust me, for that you have to be physically hyper and my weight tells me that I'm not so there!
Fell asleep last night on the couch around 7:30pm. I was tired and grandmother always told me, when your tired, you'll sleep. She never gave me a set bedtime no matter how hard it was for me to wake up the next morning. And until I hit Junior High School, I never really cared for a bedtime per se. However, those hard mornings were not pleasant so I made it a point to be in bed by 10:30pm every night. Why that particular time? Well, growing up, I didn't get the pleasures of cable TV in my room, much less color. But when I finally did get a hold of a b & w 13" with rabbit ears, you can bet your sweet bippy I would get my own daily dose of "Are You Being Served?" And it went of at 10:30pm. So there!
You should also know that I do NOT like taking medicine or pills of any kind. I am the type that will go for days with a headache before I take medication for it. But the habit I fell into as I aged would not be pleasant. The extra cups of coffee in the morning kept me going strong til around 3pm. Then I would bottom out. At first, I indulged in a cup of coffee in the afternoon, but that didn't really do it for me. So my trusty five hour 'bottle-o-crack' was a Godsend. However, those are pricey. Then I discovered a handy dandy vitamin: B12... Now this isn't your average vitamin. This sucker packs a punch with all the B vitamins, and the other vitamins and minerals that help 'activate' the b vitamins. Needless to say, I can go all day and (obviously) all night without wearing out.
But I fear the worst from this habit. I've never been an early riser. I've always gotten up around 8 or 9 unless something big was going on or I had plans. Nope, I'm very much nocturnal and I would much rather be out and about, or up working on something while everyone else sleeps. That is my 'thinking time'. And I've noticed more since I've stopped smoking that the time I have is like that bottomless bag you carry when you need a lot of stuff with you, but have to dump it all out to find that one little thing you need most of all: I can't find enough stuff to do to fill my time, and when I get ready to go to sleep, rather than put everything to rest until the next morning, my mind starts thinking about it.
I've written stuff down right before bed (like my psych books say to do, and of course, I've heard the best: Dr. Phil, Oprah and a gob of healthy living experts), who say to keep a pad and pencil by your bed. If you can't clear your head, write it down so you won't forget about and that helps you to be reassured so you can fall asleep... Ummm, used to work... Now... Not so much.
Because I don't want to jot it down. I want to start it and finish it all in one go. And I think that is my deal. It's not that I don't have patience, but that I would rather not procrastinate! *** GASP *** LaVonda! Say it isn't so! You of all people cannot be a procrastinator! :) Of course I can... and I 'was' really good at it. But something happened. I would love to just turn my brain off! I can look at laundry, dishes, housework, etc., and not give rip if it gets done. But the stuff in my head, I can't turn it off. And it's beginning to affect my sleep habits.
So, with my 1 of 2 only cups of coffee, I am going to finish up this post, check my email, double check my school info, then I'm off to talk to the laundry. I've been up since midnight. Maybe going to bed at 8 and waking up early wouldn't be too bad... After all, nothing is constant but change, and that even includes my habits!
Have a superflyingtacklepounce of a day!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
This morning I sit before my computer with a head full of stuff. But cannot categorically put it all together. Rambles of this, tidbits of that. All perfectly coherent thoughts, but they are going so fast, it's hard for me to keep up with them. No, I'm not insane and to my knowledge, I'm not a victim of adult ADHD -- trust me, for that you have to be physically hyper and my weight tells me that I'm not so there!
Fell asleep last night on the couch around 7:30pm. I was tired and grandmother always told me, when your tired, you'll sleep. She never gave me a set bedtime no matter how hard it was for me to wake up the next morning. And until I hit Junior High School, I never really cared for a bedtime per se. However, those hard mornings were not pleasant so I made it a point to be in bed by 10:30pm every night. Why that particular time? Well, growing up, I didn't get the pleasures of cable TV in my room, much less color. But when I finally did get a hold of a b & w 13" with rabbit ears, you can bet your sweet bippy I would get my own daily dose of "Are You Being Served?" And it went of at 10:30pm. So there!
You should also know that I do NOT like taking medicine or pills of any kind. I am the type that will go for days with a headache before I take medication for it. But the habit I fell into as I aged would not be pleasant. The extra cups of coffee in the morning kept me going strong til around 3pm. Then I would bottom out. At first, I indulged in a cup of coffee in the afternoon, but that didn't really do it for me. So my trusty five hour 'bottle-o-crack' was a Godsend. However, those are pricey. Then I discovered a handy dandy vitamin: B12... Now this isn't your average vitamin. This sucker packs a punch with all the B vitamins, and the other vitamins and minerals that help 'activate' the b vitamins. Needless to say, I can go all day and (obviously) all night without wearing out.
But I fear the worst from this habit. I've never been an early riser. I've always gotten up around 8 or 9 unless something big was going on or I had plans. Nope, I'm very much nocturnal and I would much rather be out and about, or up working on something while everyone else sleeps. That is my 'thinking time'. And I've noticed more since I've stopped smoking that the time I have is like that bottomless bag you carry when you need a lot of stuff with you, but have to dump it all out to find that one little thing you need most of all: I can't find enough stuff to do to fill my time, and when I get ready to go to sleep, rather than put everything to rest until the next morning, my mind starts thinking about it.
I've written stuff down right before bed (like my psych books say to do, and of course, I've heard the best: Dr. Phil, Oprah and a gob of healthy living experts), who say to keep a pad and pencil by your bed. If you can't clear your head, write it down so you won't forget about and that helps you to be reassured so you can fall asleep... Ummm, used to work... Now... Not so much.
Because I don't want to jot it down. I want to start it and finish it all in one go. And I think that is my deal. It's not that I don't have patience, but that I would rather not procrastinate! *** GASP *** LaVonda! Say it isn't so! You of all people cannot be a procrastinator! :) Of course I can... and I 'was' really good at it. But something happened. I would love to just turn my brain off! I can look at laundry, dishes, housework, etc., and not give rip if it gets done. But the stuff in my head, I can't turn it off. And it's beginning to affect my sleep habits.
So, with my 1 of 2 only cups of coffee, I am going to finish up this post, check my email, double check my school info, then I'm off to talk to the laundry. I've been up since midnight. Maybe going to bed at 8 and waking up early wouldn't be too bad... After all, nothing is constant but change, and that even includes my habits!
Have a superflyingtacklepounce of a day!
Until tomorrow,
LaVonda
Monday, August 1, 2011
Cracker Jack Government
Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers-by,
When I was in high school, my civics teacher taught me a lot. But the one thing I remember is that in politics, you don't get anything for free. Politics is best defined as 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'. But you see readers, my back isn't itching. I don't want them to touch me. I don't want them to think about touching me. I don't want them to pass a bill that says they are thinking about touching me. I want them to leave me the hell alone. (End rant).
You've all heard of Ponzi right? The greatest pyramid scheme and efficiently named from the master mind behind it. People pay in, pay in, pay in, then when it's time for them to get their money, oops, sorry, it's not there anymore! Ummm, social security, anyone? Anyone? For years I've been asking myself, how in the hell did this thing pass? Then, like all wonderful self-realizing epiphanies, it hit me. The government passed it because they seen how well it worked for Ponzi. But that is until this generation came along. See, we are the righter's of wrong when it comes to our government. We are not stupid. We are not dumb. We are the call it like we see it generation. And I'm calling bull shit! There is no way on God's green earth, with ALL the money that is paid in by working people, on a weekly, bi-monthly, and monthly level to have a feeling the money is going to 'run out'. Unless someone has had their hands in the damn cookie jar!
Enter: Epiphany #2... The government, with all their greedy, sneaky, conniving, manipulating, open hands out, they took what they wanted. Government+money=power... But, giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys -- they are going to get in trouble! And they have. This whole debt limit, we won't agree, kiss my ass bullshit has to end.
I sat down Saturday night, dark thirty, flipping through the channels after everyone else had went to bed. I seen infomercials on skin care products, Trojan - whip your hair back - vibes, hold-your-stomach-in underwear, get-it-up male enhancers, fountain-of-youth make-up and the list goes on and on and on. Then I landed on Cspan. Yes, that channel you NEVER watch because all you see are political jackasses wearing suits pretending to do something beneficial, the whole while, they are sitting behind a desk scratching their balls like George does his head, right before he realizes that tree's don't move! Needless to say, it was boring as hell!
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