Fall Schedule
Helios film lens 44-2/Canon Rebel f/8/manual- taken on back deck- 8.4.14
I’ve officially made the switch from Vincennes University over to Indiana University East. My admissions counselour, Cherie, helped me register for my classes, which are:
1) Research Methods for Experimental Psychology
2) Cross Cultural Communications
3) Statistical Techniques (post-pre Calculus math course)
4) Everyday Psychology
5) Ethics
That’s a healthy 15 credit hour schedule- no small potatoes. (The most I’ve ever taken in one semester were 21 credit hours- 6 classes- and apart from one class, received 5 A’s, so I think I can swing this.)
As much as I’d love to stay at VU and explore CSI/Forensics and as much as I’d love to entertain the possibility of a future in DNA & Serology, my calling is clearly in the area of working with people on the street at the street level. Sure, a cushy office (with AC in the summer) would be great and everything- degrees hanging on the wall- but I’m driven by my desire to work with people who are drug addicts, homeless, troubled, hopeless- society’s throwaways, and those who suffer from a myriad of emotional/psychological disorders. That much I know.
A few years ago, I dropped out of school entirely, due to severe migraines that plagued me weekly. My Pastor encouraged me to return to school- if at all possible- which I was miraculously able to do. At the time, I owed the school more than $1,000, due to having to drop out. In short, I was screwed. But I was so encouraged by her letter, I called the school and asked if anything could be done to help me. I faxed in a few medical documents, proving that I’d had physical complications and the school wiped out the entire debt. (This is why I say that my return was nothing short of a miracle. This just doesn’t happen in the academic world!) She (my Pastor) suggested that I get out of Business Administration and explore other areas that would better utilize my talents, such as working with others. Had it not been for her urging, I would have never returned, so that’s always in the back of my mind. I push on for others and not just myself.
School begins in approximately 3 weeks and I couldn’t be more excited! I’m hoping to take a year off to work on my music, but I’m not sure if that will be before or after I receive my bachelor’s in Psychology.
In the meantime, I’m going to keep myself occupied by surprising my Mom’s friend with a photo book that I’m calling “Whispers from the Garden”. Her friend’s husband passed away several years ago and they shared an amazing garden behind their house. I shot some pics there last winter and will be compiling the book from my collection of pics taken of their winter garden.
Supper calls! Until next time.
Birdhouse from the garden
“This is Dad, Calling from Heaven.”
I had a strange dream the other night. My Dad called me on the phone. It sounded distant, understandably so- he passed on to Heaven a number of years ago.
“Birg,” he said. “This is Dad…calling from Heaven.”
I was shocked when I awoke. I thought it was utterly cool that he would call me from the Great Divide. 🙂 The Bible makes mention of a banister of Witnesses leaning over Heaven. God gives these particular Saints permission to cross over from time to time to witness to us that are still here. My Dad told me that himself, many years ago.
“Come on! You can make it!” They say, to encourage us.
I dream of my Dad all of the time. He comes to me many times per year, ministering to me, sharing Scriptures and such- we still have a great time, and, truth be told, you can call them “dreams”, but they’re more than that.
I had such a dream a few months ago. Me and my (extended) family were all standing on a high mountain. All of us. My Dad was at the very top and he was turned around, looking back over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack and was about 25 years younger. He wore a big smile on his face and was waving his hand to follow him. I knew what the dream meant, for he taught me to interpret dreams many years ago.
It was Christmas day when they took my Dad off of life support. The doctors wanted to see if he would make it through for the next few days without it. Naturally, everybody was gathered together for Christmas festivities, but I stayed at the hospital all day with him. I couldn’t bear for him to be alone on that day. We had a great time, given the circumstances. I’d already been told that he’d been muttering things incoherently because of the medication and such. But no such thing happened on that day.
Instead, he shared two Scriptures with me from the KJV and was as clear as a bell doing so. One of those verses was Titus 1:2-
Paul, a servant of God, and an apostle of Jesus Christ, according to the faith of God’s elect, and the acknowledging of the truth which is after Godliness;
2 In hope of eternal life, which God, THAT CANNOT LIE, promised before the world began;
And he went on to share with me the comfort in knowing that God cannot lie, does not lie, and will not lie. He took great comfort in the fact that God keeps all of His promises and will absolutely save us. He could accept that he felt like “the chief of sinners” much of the time, but God would ultimately keep His word and deliver him. And so it was.
I didn’t know how much time I had left with him that day. We were best friends at the end, and had been for years. We’d been through so much hell together! But such GREAT forgiveness. And, the Word does say that with much forgiveness is much love. Those who forgive the most, love the most: he surely taught me that.
I hugged him then, and fell on his neck and told him that it was a total privilege to be his daughter on this side of Heaven.
“I’ll see you up there, Dad. Save me a seat.”
And there was nothing more to say.
I thought that there would be a big gap after he died. But really, we’re still very close and “death” only stands as a doorway that he crossed through into LIFE. Even so, I’m glad he takes time out of his busy schedule “up there” to still give me a call. :0)
Water, Water, Everywhere
Josh, taking a pic of me at the Louisville water park. Helios film lens 44-2
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I ask him.
“I feel beautiful,” he says.
Red Yeti Brewing Company: The Review
256 Spring Street/Jeffersonville, Indiana/47130
Josh told me about a new place in town called the Red Yeti Brewing Company. What’s this? A real craft brewing company with farm to fork food? In Jeffersonville, Indiana? I had to know more so we popped in today for a quick bite and a cold stout.
First, a bit of history. Our region is as old as the hills and seldom is there a new shop (or store) open that offers farm to fresh anything. Sauces come in large cans and you’re lucky to get fresh homemade pasta anywhere. Our city is dusty, old, historic, and not much happens in the way of culinary surprises.
So it was a nice fresh surprise upon first arriving: a small quaint crowd gathered ’round the bar, and the smell of fresh food was immediate. We were greeted by our server, Ashley, who was super friendly (but not overbearing) and besides serving us, she filled us in on the local food scene- what came from where- and also obliged to tell us what our food was made of.
Ashley
I’d like an Ashley in every restaurant. I was dying to know what was in our smoked brisket, besides their homemade BBQ sauce (yes, homemade), smoked cheese, and bacon jam. There was a distinct sweetness there that I couldn’t quite pick out.
“Blueberries,” Ashley revealed. “We don’t have a freezer or a microwave. All of our food is market fresh from the local region.”
Ashley, we love you. (Don’t worry Jack. We love you too!)
Our home cut fries were served with a fresh covering of grated parmesan with a side of garlic ranch aioli. The food was absolutely fantastic and so very fresh. Although they spoke of making their own brew soon, for now, they’re importing a variety of exotic sounding (and tasting) beers. Take for instance, the Brooklyn Chocolate Stout:
It’s absolutely out of this world with notes of deep chocolate. It’s richer, deeper, and full of way more flavor than a traditional stout. Heaven in a glass.
The colour scheme was rather masculine, which I very much like: red and black throughout surrounded by brick walls. Large pieces of machinery peppered the decor giving it an interesting industrial tinge that I very much dug:
Light fixture
Dining Room
One thing that I really appreciate about this place is that the menu is small and uncluttered. If I’ve learned anything from Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, it’s that most failing businesses clutter their menus with unnecessary items that they’ll never cook. Everything on the menu is (again) fresh, and made by a professional chef as well as a sous chef, and it definitely shows.
As Ashley stated, “I’m proud to be part of this establishment. We all work really hard to bring the best that we can and do what we can to make it what it is.”
She went on to describe many of her work days, which include arriving early to sort out the fresh kale and other farm fresh vegetables. I’m used to eateries such as this on Bardstown Rd. in Louisville, Kentucky, but it’s a total delight to find such a gem right around the corner here in Jeffersonville.
My guy before the Brooklyn Chocolate Stout:
And after:
“Do you know what I love about you?” He asks.
“What?” I ask in return, eyeballing my stout.
“Everything.”
We’ll definitely be coming back to the Red Yeti Brewing Company. 🙂
Bad Potato
Helios film lens 44-2/Canon Rebel
Success is the Best Revenge
And when they’re laying their traps, waiting for you to fall- look ’em dead in the eyes and smile. It will kill them- because they don’t know how to love.
Life is But a Dream
Lately, life has been so good. I’m enjoying my summer break, but am looking forward to going back in just a few more weeks. I can’t believe I’ve been out of school for a month now. I’m in the process of being accepted at WGU Indiana: it’s the only school in the nation with a fully accredited teacher’s program- distance ed- and it’s award winning.
So……I’ll be majoring in Biology in the teacher’s college. (Yes, teacher’s college!) I’m either going to explore the possibilities of becoming an elementary/middle school biology teacher, or using my bachelor’s to begin work on my master’s in biology (again, at the teacher’s level) or work on my master’ in DNA & Serology. Either way, I’ll have a few more years before I’ll need to make that executive decision. For now, I’m content with working solely on the Biology major.
Josh will be going back out of town on business for a few days. We spent the day out at the park (Lapping Park) walking on a trail that we officially claimed as our own. Afterwards, we hit a flea market and picked up some BBQ sauce for our new smoker/grill and Josh bought me some pumpkin coffee (for our Espresso maker) and then hit up a Chinese buffet. I feel like I’ve got ticks crawling all over me so I’m off to hit the shower.
Au Revoir.
Summer School Begins NOW
Original artwork: my photography (self portrait at the Ohio River) digitally rendered into Gouache oil on stone, titled: “Sister, I will Carry You”, circa 2009
So I’m waiting to hear back from an advising doctor at the University of Florida where I’ll ultimately work on a master’s in Forensic Science, particularly in that of Serology (the study of bodily fluids) and DNA. I’m most interested in Crime Scene Investigations- sans the body. If I could get past the whole “dead body” thing, I’d rather work there but I’m just not sure I could hang with that. (I’m sure at some point I’m going to have to get past that.) I have a keen interest in forensics and so I’m hoping Dr. ******* will be able to advise me on which B.S./major (Biology, Biochemistry, Criminal Justice) I need to pursue so that I can effectively move in the direction of Serology and DNA: I won’t be settled until I have my game plan on lock down!
To get a head start, I’ve found an awesome (free) forensics site in which you can enroll in (again- free) courses that include audio seminars- complete with course modules, syllabi, etc. I’m beginning with blood spatter analysis tonight. It’s going to have to hold me over until I can begin school in the fall.
For any potential CSI/DNA/Serology buffs, here’s the link:
https://www.forensiced.org/training/courseapp.cfm?csection=Forensic%20Sciences
Enjoy!
I’m In
I’ve been keeping my fingers crossed about being accepted into IU East; their acceptance rate is only 60%.
I called today and found out that I’ve been accepted!
I am sooooooo stoked. I’m a little shaky knowing that I’ll have to take ridiculously hard classes (chemistry, physics, and Calculus) but I’m up for the challenge. Josh is giving me his full support.
Life just got a whole lot better.
Changing Lanes: The Trilogy
Ole Betsy’s been dead since about last year. (Ole Betsy’s my car.) My sister gave it to me 5 years ago because she thought it would kick the bucket any day. I expected her to last a year or so. Certainly not 4 & 1/2! She overheats at the 2 mile marker, so when Josh and I risk taking her out for a spin, we have to turn it off at the stoplights- you know- just in case.
I’m still able to smile at the (semi-romantic) notion of driving such an eyesore around town when I think about how great it’s going to be one of these days. And one of these days is about 8 years from now. I’ve gone and changed my majors again.
See, I was going to be a probation officer and so thought about taking Criminal Justice + Psychology (double major). But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forever bonded with CSI and forensics, given that my Dad shared his True Detective magazines with me and my brothers- sparing not the eye at all. Some of the images branded me for life: I suppose that’s why I feel such a connection with criminology and forensics, etc. You’re either cut out for that stuff or you’re not and I certainly am.
I know without a doubt that I’ll be in school for the next 6 years solid. It’s not likely that I’ll get a B.S./B. A. in anything at all and hop right to it. Nah. I’m going to jump in up to both eyeballs, as is my way. So, I’ll be double majoring in Biology and Psychology (which is actually Neuroscience/neuropsychology) which suits me just fine. Afterwards, I’m hoping to transfer to the University of Florida where I can work on a Master’s in Forensic Science.
If you think Forensic Science can be achieved with just “college algebra”- think again. You have to master Calculus (I and II) as well as Chemistry (I and II) and let’s not forget Physics. (I and II) Not for the faint of heart!
I shared my grand academic plan with Josh earlier. It only took his two-word reply to make me shudder, “Imaginary numbers,” he said.
Yep. That did the trick!
“What is I?” He went on.
I stared back stupidly.
“I is the square root of negative one. There is no square root of negative one which is why they call it an imaginary number,” he finished.
Right.
I certainly have my work cut out for me, but if I can actually pull this off, I’m fairly certain that I will have found my calling after all.
Back to Betsy. She’s been really good to me while I’ve had her but I’m afraid I’ll have to trade her in this fall. When I’m combining grocery trips with photo shoot (opportunities) because she’ll only go two miles- that’s pretty much my cue to get a new one.
Josh, leaning against a stranger’s car outside of the grocery store- taken today/Helios film 44-2
Same car
Relaxation = Torture
I swear, most people would give their right leg to have my summer. I get to take the entire summer off- work free. Everything is taken care of financially- for that, I can be so very grateful. I own my home (and car) so there are no payments to make there. I can loaf around and read all day, or watch Netflix or arrange my patio furniture on my deck (etc.) or do absolutely anything I want until August.
For most people, that’s called “winning the lottery”. But for me, a perfectionist-workaholic, it’s sheer torture! I live my life by deadlines and goals and am always “achieving something”. Anything less than that feels utterly lazy to me. Logistics aside, I am having a wonderful time in the chill zone.
I’ve registered for my new college- Indiana University East- for this fall where I’ll be working on a double bachelor’s in Psychology and Criminal Justice. I’m hoping to eventually be able to move to Arizona. (That’s later on down the road though.) As much as I’m drawn to both majors, I’ll wait until I’ve completed both before deciding to work towards a Master’s in Psychology or Criminology. it’ll be an interesting road nonetheless.
Josh is off to get us some authentic tacos and ceviche and we’ve decided to settle in for a night of intense gaming! I swear I’m having the best time of my life these days. No complaints.
Bernheim Forest/ Water Lillies [Van Gogh meets Monet]
My Latest Addiction
Home made salt water taffy!
As a young girl, I often made homemade rock candy. I also made fondant and tried to make some sort of chew candy, but I was a noob in the kitchen with little more than an old beat up Betty Crocker cookbook. (This was waaaaay before the internet.)
I’ve made several batches of this delicious salt water taffy in the past few days and will try it again tonight, adding a scoop of peanut butter. Even the timing of one minute can be the difference between soft, chewy taffy and jawbreaker-like solidity, so best to not exceed 245 F degrees.
For anyone interested, here’s how to make it:
Ingredients
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 tablespoon cornstarch
- 2/3 cup light corn syrup
- 1 tablespoon real butter
- 1/2 cup water
- 1/2 teaspoon sea salt
- 1 tablespoon vanilla favoring
I’m no Martha Stewart and I prefer to cook like my grandmother, Jewel- rugged-style and pretty much eyeballing everything rather than measuring. For this type of thing, you have to measure it, however. It couldn’t possibly be easier:
Mix everything up in a pan. Stir somewhat consistently until it reaches 255 F. I didn’t have a candy thermometer so Josh stuck his voltage tester in it and viola! If you don’t happen to have a hot guy in the kitchen with greasy power tools, you can also do the cold water test. Drop 1/4 of a teaspoon in a cup of cold water. If it “balls up” easily- you’re good to go. I also gauge it by the “pull” it has when you stir it. After stirring it over medium heat for 8 minutes or so, it thickens up and begins to have a pull to it- you can use that method also.
At 220 F- you’re going to get a runny taffy that never really firms up. At 245 F, you’ll get a firm taffy that’s just about right. At 260 F and on up, you may need to see the dentist if you try to chew it. If you want a buttered Werther’s type of candy, jack it up to 275 F or more. Trial and error is the best way to learn but really, 245 F is usually what I aim for.
When it’s ready to take off the stove, pour it into a buttered dish (or bowl) and let it cool down long enough to be able to handle. Once cooled, the real work begins. The taffy needs pulling and stretched for about 10-15 minutes. It’ll begin to change colours from a honey brown to a light tan and then to a bone white when it’s finished.
Roll it into a log and use kitchen scissors to cut it into bite sized pieces. The sweetness of the sugary vanilla mixed with bite of the sea salt is pure HEAVEN. Twist each piece up into wax paper and you’re good to go.
Burn Bright: Burn Loud
Today’s been a wonderful day. 🙂
When I gave my mother my diplomas (Behavioral Sciences degree + CPC in Substance Abuse) for her birthday today, she gasped and then clutched them to her chest and just wept. It was so precious! I wasn’t expecting that kind of a response. I also told her that if I’m half the woman that she is when it’s all said and done, I will have succeeded in this world. I’ve never known a sweeter woman than my mother. She has a greater capacity to love and forgive than most people.
I know quite a few people who feel that their moms are critical and will even make them feel bad or ashamed of their appearances or what have you: my mom’s just the opposite. I’m working toward buying her a home over the next few years. I told her (back when I was 16) that someday, I’d buy her a home. Now I can see the outline of it taking shape.
After I graduated, she asked me if I was able to add “those little letters after my name”- ha. Cute.
“No. I don’t have any little letters after my name. But after I’m a doctor, I will have,” I said.
The thoughts and realizations of becoming a doctor are now within my grasp. It’s no longer a wild notion that I can work toward and obtain my Psy. D in Psychology, which is one of the highest levels of doctorate for psychology that one can receive.
The reason my fight is so intense, is because in my family, we women have always been little more than glorified toilet scrubbers, wives, moms, nannies, care-takers and sitters. I’m the first female- for literally generations- to receive my college degree. It’s just not something women in my family do-ever. This is why I took both of my nieces under my wings and encouraged them to get their degrees. One of them enrolled in college, but dropped out shortly after she was married- never to return. The other (I hear) is now working really hard in a nursing program, taking after her Aunt Birgy- making A’s and doing very well. She’s had some private struggles which have stacked the odds against her, so the fact that she can overcome these obstacles and pursue her degree is really quite profound. I think she’s going to make it. 🙂
In my family, this type of thing is huge! She wants to be a nurse, but really, there’s nothing stopping her from going all the way and becoming a doctor. We’re all quite poor, and I’m doing all I can to change the infrastructures of the (hush hush) sexism that has held back the women in our family for many generations. When a person or family unit comes from a very poor upbringing and goes on to earn a good salary and improve their lives economically, it’s called “upward mobility”, sociologically speaking. When a person comes from money (whether old or new) and ends up in a shack with little more than a few coins to rub together, it’s known as “downward mobility”.
I want to be an example for the women in my family and I’m raising the bar high. I won’t settle for going to work and going home- multiply that by many years- and then “simply dying”. What will it all have been for? I want to burn bright and loud and show them that they can achieve anything that they set their minds on. Mediocrity is not an option.
Another reason working toward a doctorate in psychology is so important to me is because my maternal grandmother died with dementia. It’s not a stretch to assume that my mother could end up like her mother. I’m working toward becoming a trained professional so that I’ll decrease my Mom’s chances at getting dementia. It’s an inherent disorder, and you can do little to alter DNA, but it can be warded off, or even diffused altogether if given the right nutrition, and treat any early symptoms aggressively and proactively. I will not let my mother become a statistic and in some home somewhere.
She gave me life! And it’s the least I can do to spend the rest of mine dedicated to making hers better.
I’m off to play a Nancy Drew game. I’m having such a great time in life these days: Every day is a vacation. 🙂
My son, Brian ,and his little lady, Amanda- so in love
God Walks
These past few days have been nothing short of incredible. Some things have happened here at home that have caused both Josh and I to be soft-hearted, more so than usual. Take for example, his wallet, that was stolen from a department store. His birth certificate, ID, more than $100, my credit card too- and lots of other goodies were inside of it.
Interestingly enough, rather than being angry much, we’ve been teary-eyed and hyper-emotional. But that’s to be expected under the circumstances. As for me, I’ve been pondering my life (imagine that!) and contemplating my absolute direction in which I’ll go. I was in Business Administration five years ago when my Pastor suggested I switch majors to something that might better utilize my talents. I considered what she said and decided to go into Human Services/Behavioral Sciences. Generally, I wanted to work with homeless people and troubled juveniles, etc. From there, I considered Criminal Justice and probation/parole, and up until yesterday, I was alright with that.
But I’ve been praying and asking God to guide me to the place that He wants me to go. His answer: Psychology- specializing in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder/OCD behaviors- but most importantly- child sexual abuse and trauma. He’s really been digging around in my heart these past few months, stirring up some things I’d rather not acknowledge.
I was sexually abused by a relative when I was nine years old. Up until a year ago, I couldn’t even string those words together in the same sentence. I haven’t been in denial- but so very apprehensive to even look in that direction. It means pain. Heaps and heaps of pain. At some point, we sexual abuse survivors really do just get tired of this old monster that eats away at our heads and hearts. It’s emotionally and psychologically draining. Well, perhaps that is a form of denial. But as long as I don’t want to see it, it’s still buried. I couldn’t speak about this issue while my Dad was alive. This type of thing destroys lives- it’s like a locomotive with razor-sharp teeth- eating souls along the way. It devastates families. So for many years, I’ve stayed silent. I’ve taken my lashes privately to spare my siblings what would have been much ruin, both privately and publicly. Not surprisingly, my family has preferred that as well. Nobody ever talks about it. It “doesn’t exist” in their worlds.
I was told (when I was a child) that if I ever told anybody, my brothers and sister would be taken away and we would all be put in foster homes and that I would have been the cause. I was only 9! What a terrific and horrendous burden to place upon a child so young. So I kept my mouth shut. And suffered alone. And suffered. And suffered. And suffered.
My siblings got to keep each other and nobody went to a foster home. Hooray.
But I can’t stay silent any more. God has been walking through my heart. He’s telling me that I have a story to tell and it’s ok to tell it! I’ve suffered enough. I can hardly believe the number of women I’ve met online who are my age that have been sexually abused. A good many of them are taking multiple medications and cannot even leave their houses without another family member. That was me a handful of years ago too.
For four years now I’ve studied psychology and such in college. I used to slag on therapists, thinking they were goofy- spitting out “mumbo jumbo Freudian crap”. How ignorant! Naturally, I’ve come to understand just how hard psychology really is; all of the various sections of the brain and their functions that pertain to specific disorders and so on. And that’s just the physiological aspect- there’s the sociological aspect too; perspectives and theories and research methods. The field is so extensive, it really does command respect.
I’m 44 years old and I’ve never been treated for being molested as a child. The shame and pain that goes along with it keep women like me silent. And so we suffer silently. Year after year. But God has touched my heart today with His finger. It burns with a super fire! I’ve decided for the first time in my life to seek treatment for my childhood trauma. The silence must be broken if the remedy is to be successful. Besides, this is the area I want to study and specialize in in my studies. How can I possibly be of any help or use to other women who’ve suffered from this if I don’t become the client and receive professional help too?
And so I shall. I’ve called my local Behavioral Health facility and have scheduled an appointment for June. The first step really is the hardest. I know that the road won’t be particularly easy, but I know that I’m making a good emotional and psychological investment for my future. I’ve been so encouraged by the many (many many) brave women who have shared their similar stories through their blogs.
Some people think that such things shouldn’t be aired in public, but every one who has and continues to do so is my hero. We never know just who we’re going to touch in this world, or who may be reading our posts that have no idea what to do, where to go, who to talk to, etc.
I have a great, new outlook on life and I’m excited at the prospect of finally getting professional help for such an ugly disease: child sexual abuse.
Today is my mother’s birthday. She doesn’t know it yet but I’m going to give her my (college) diplomas as one of her gifts. I’ve fought so hard to finish my degree- for myself, yes, but especially for her. And she’s so proud of me. :0)
Happy birthday, Mom. ♥
My Mom’s one and only sunflower
This One’s for You, A*****e
So Josh and I were hanging out in a parking lot, near a sweet little 1/2 mile walking track. We’re laughing and taking pictures:
Josh was doing figure 8’s and I was experimenting with long exposure:
Just as Josh was finishing up a few tight laps, a white car slowly approached us: Security. Great.
And it went a little something like this:
“Is this private property?”
“Yeah, you know you’re not supposed to be taking pictures.”
“Um, no. I didn’t, Is it private property?”
“Have you been taking pictures?”
“Well…yeah, of him,” I said, pointing to Josh. “Is the grass and walking track public, or is that private too?”
[No answer. Again.]
“You know I could take your camera if I wanted to?”
[WTF?]
And then he went on to tell me how much control he had over me (etc. etc.) and didn’t like my “bad attitude” (get in line, dude!) and that he (again) could take my camera away.
Good grief- I really have had it with men who want to control a woman because THEY THINK THEY CAN. It’s absolutely abusing one’s “power” because he has a gun and a government vehicle.
I went over to the gazebo, stuffed my camera in my bra and dared him to say another word.
“Josh, can you pick me up over here please? UNBELIEVABLE,” I said, standing a few feet away. I was beyond pissed.
And just so you know Mr. Security dude, I DID take pictures of your building.
And this one’s for you, a*****e:
And there’s more where that came from:
The same location:
I even drank your melted snow- barefooted:
And some of the Indiana Army Ammunition Plant (which is strictly prohibited to explore, I might add):
And some of the kids:
And for the record, there was this one security guard that works with you. He stopped me one day in the winter time as I parked my car in your parking lot. He asked what I was doing and I told him I was taking pictures. I asked him if it was alright if I took some shots of one of the old buildings. He said, “Sure.” I ran all the way there and back, as I knew I needed to hurry, and I did that to be considerate.
Everything worked. See?
Get a clue, douchebag. <<<<<<<<—————–
I Can Get Used to This
I stayed up all night reading my Vivien Leigh bio and eating Jalapeno Cheetos. Does life get any better than this? I can hardly wait to find out.
I awoke at 5:00 p.m., cleaned the house, and am getting ready to hit my Gazelle Stryder for an hour- coffee at 7! This is what my entire summer will look like. Loafing around doing absolutely anything I want- living on rock-n-roll time. (Up all night- sleep all day.) I’ve gone from a no nonsense student to a glorified beach bum in less than a week- I love it. 🙂
Josh has been out of town for two days on business. I really miss that kid when he’s not around!
Nothing more to report. Life is good.
Very very good.
Brian and Amanda- Warhol/pop
Just In
My diplomas!
I had no idea that my CPC/certification in Substance Abuse would be an actual diploma also. I don’t think it’s set in that I’ve officially graduated from college. It feels like a major accomplishment and it’s definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. My 2nd diploma was a great Mother’s Day present when I checked the mail today- fresh off the press.
All in all, today’s been a great day. I spent the afternoon with Josh and my mother. (I had ordered some chocolate truffles for her from Swiss Colony for Mother’s Day.) It’s 1:35 a.m. and although Josh has to work tomorrow, he left to go to the store to buy me chocolates. I only hinted that I would like some and he was out the door and off to the drug store to buy them for me. What a great guy. 🙂 No complaints here.
Off to bed. My Vivien Leigh bio awaits. (And so do my chocolates.) Happy (late) Mother’s Day, to all of the moms out there! x
m o n o c h r o m e j u n k i e † 