tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461884344877386522024-03-13T17:18:08.534-05:00Broken Girl Fractured WorldAndrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-62611896699884612792013-06-11T18:07:00.000-05:002013-06-11T18:07:50.745-05:00Published Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvtEV70WlGw/Ubes7BrcB1I/AAAAAAAABSo/_4jGxBAfOgo/s1600/available.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="490" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvtEV70WlGw/Ubes7BrcB1I/AAAAAAAABSo/_4jGxBAfOgo/s640/available.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Well, I kind of goofed! I was going to release the book on June 25th, but I approved the proof and it went live! <i>Blood of the Sire</i> is now available in paperback! If you're at all interested it is available on Create Space and soon Amazon and expanded distribution.<br />
<a href="https://www.createspace.com/4087848?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026">https://www.createspace.com/4087848?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026</a>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-32431034525474383632013-05-22T08:44:00.000-05:002013-05-22T08:44:02.436-05:00Cover Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4jqGjhPcRM/UZzLiOQkBeI/AAAAAAAABK4/a3CJJdxJfSk/s1600/Completed+cover+preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4jqGjhPcRM/UZzLiOQkBeI/AAAAAAAABK4/a3CJJdxJfSk/s640/Completed+cover+preview.jpg" width="640" /></a>Book Cover Reveal</div>
<br />Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-78254338594909564332013-04-09T17:50:00.001-05:002013-04-09T17:50:54.909-05:00Writing Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rbdQWF5lh4A/UWSbQRzDoMI/AAAAAAAABDE/d5h3JdBXVTc/s1600/advert.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rbdQWF5lh4A/UWSbQRzDoMI/AAAAAAAABDE/d5h3JdBXVTc/s640/advert.tif" width="522" /></a></div>
<br />Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-88263854531019385112013-03-13T16:46:00.001-05:002013-03-13T16:47:21.479-05:00Happy GirlI haven't posted on Broken Girl in a very long time, over a year in fact. Part of the reason is so much has happened in that year. Kevin and I were married 1-11-12 so I spent 2012 learning to be a wife to a wonderful man. I also graduated in May. I now have an Associates Degree in Supervisory Management.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f-6qw4LznmI/UUDyee7UCmI/AAAAAAAAAys/iHn6bpr00Q0/s1600/wedding2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f-6qw4LznmI/UUDyee7UCmI/AAAAAAAAAys/iHn6bpr00Q0/s320/wedding2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
In October we began house hunting and January 2013 found us our first home. It needs a lot of work; because of that, most of my blogging has switched over to our house page. If anyone is interested in watching our DIY renovations, you can watch:<a href="http://staumhouse.blogspot.com/"> http://staumhouse.blogspot.com/ </a>for updates.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NYaZdUwHC_M/UUDzPiXfneI/AAAAAAAAAy0/dLPVoYpdVJY/s1600/1668105ax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NYaZdUwHC_M/UUDzPiXfneI/AAAAAAAAAy0/dLPVoYpdVJY/s320/1668105ax.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Also, I am planning to publish my first novel in June. 'Blood of the Sire' started last November during NaNoWriMo. I'm working hard on edits and it will be ready, I promise. If you'd like to follow the progress, follow my author page on facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Andrea-L-Staum-Author/146878242143910">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Andrea-L-Staum-Author/146878242143910</a><br />
<br />Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-21402770728330937432012-12-02T11:39:00.000-06:002012-12-02T11:50:15.424-06:00NaNoWriMo Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wA-kqlWIro8/ULuJWpTMR8I/AAAAAAAAALo/RIfBwHoxoCc/s1600/nanowrmo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wA-kqlWIro8/ULuJWpTMR8I/AAAAAAAAALo/RIfBwHoxoCc/s1600/nanowrmo.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>~John Steinbeck</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I have been in a total writers block for quite some time. I haven't felt like writing anything whether it be a blog post, a short story, or a poem. Nothing has been coming to my brain. Then two of my friends from my Arizona Writer's Round Table started chatting about NaNoWriMo on Facebook. This was something that I had never heard of before. For those who don't know, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month and it occurs every November since 1999. As the picture above kind of demonstrates you have 30 days to write 50,000 words! There are no cash prizes or fancy plaques at the end of it. Winning is reaching the goal. Self satisfaction in completing the task.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The concept intrigued me and the more I read statuses between my friends I was drawn in. So without really knowing what I was getting into I decided to give it a try. This was what I needed to get back into writing and it recharged my brain. I got more out of this experience than a manuscript. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">1. Writing is not the solitary activity I had always thought it to be. I didn't partake in any of the regional events that occur, but perhaps next year I will. I did play around on the forums, but that isn't a medium I really enjoy and honestly, forums confuse me. I did have the support and encouragement from the two friends who got me involved, as well as family and other friends. I also got to hang out with Marlene who is one of my writing buddies and I haven't spent 4 hours in a coffee shop bouncing ideas off someone in a long time; having that feedback was so amazing! I don't know if any of those supporters know how important that cheering was to me getting through this month.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">2. Kevin </span><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">can put</span></span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
up with my flights of fancy even when it means the apartment isn't cleaned for a month and still love me even if it completely frustrates him and he doesn't fully understand how I can zone out while writing and not hear him when he's less than two feet away from me.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
3. The dry spell of writing may finally be over! (Thanks to Cyndi for being the muse that got me into this entire process)</div>
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
<br />
4. I can do amazing things when I put my mind to it. Ten years ago I had a goal of 500 words a day to finish Dragonchild and I've already rewritten it completely once, with Kalahtaya I averaged 1,881 words. I still haven't a conclusion to the book and it drives me crazy because it is not my usual style of writing and to me feels like its dragging but is actually building to something. I just wish I knew what that something is.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
5. My friends are incredibly patient with me posting my updates. I used my facebook profile as an accountability meter. I would post my daily progress with the day count and the total. I clarified that it was my intention because I realized it could be taken as incredibly arrogant. In this process though, I did realize how they way you look at things makes a world of difference. I recorded where I was in the process. For example:</div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
</div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Day 22: 1,311 words</span></div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Total: 42,579 words</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; line-height: 17.981481552124023px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17.981481552124023px;">I focused on how far I had come instead of how much was left. (In case my friend reads this, please know I am just pointing out an observation and not critiquing.) Instead of saying: 7421 words to go. For me I think the second statement would have felt insurmountable. This was a huge step for me. I am horrible at positive thinking and this month </span><span style="line-height: 17.962963104248047px;">inadvertently</span><span style="line-height: 17.981481552124023px;"> showed me the difference in perception and made me feel confidant and happy in each days works. Even days that yielded a mere 200 words I didn't get down on myself.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; line-height: 17.962963104248047px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17.962963104248047px;">6. I have habits in my writing. Groups of three and names that end in ah or eh sounds are incredibly </span><span style="line-height: 17.94444465637207px;">prominent</span><span style="line-height: 17.962963104248047px;">. I purposely changed names just to try and get away from this, but the power of three is very strong in my writing. My heroine in Dragonchild traveled with two companions the entire book, even when the original ones bowed out they were replaced to keep with the threes, oh and her name is Eva. In this story the town is Kalahtaya, the main character is Kitra and her granddaughter is Marlea. I have also rewritten the mythology of the first book which means continuity is going to be hard pressed to streamline. This was also the first time I've written an entire story with a character name that I am really disliking, but feel at this point changing it might be wrong even if I don't feel he owns the name or if it's just because it ends in ah and I want to break pattern.</span></span><br />
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #0b5394; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">7. I am terrified of editing this since it was so insane writing this and I can't say for sure what I wrote. Maybe I do need to back off and start editing in the hopes that a conclusion will occur. Especially since this went a complete opposite direction of what I had hoped. Originally, Marlea was the main character, but Kitra elbowed her way into the spotlight.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SzY0dMxJdcc/ULuRfuVMz8I/AAAAAAAAAL4/_JV5T3yOe84/s1600/writersblock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SzY0dMxJdcc/ULuRfuVMz8I/AAAAAAAAAL4/_JV5T3yOe84/s320/writersblock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">PS: I'm sorry the formatting is crappy, I'm having trouble with things working together properly.</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-64641966443928539382012-06-17T19:03:00.003-05:002012-06-17T19:11:32.127-05:00Grandpa's Girl<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i>Grandpas always have time for you when everyone else is too busy.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i>~Unknown</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idJBKvaGzJA/T95kUD9cm3I/AAAAAAAAALI/4WjF8VsdEjM/s1600/grandmagrandpa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idJBKvaGzJA/T95kUD9cm3I/AAAAAAAAALI/4WjF8VsdEjM/s320/grandmagrandpa.png" width="214" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #351c75; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #351c75; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> First, Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and grandfathers out there. I guess that it is appropriate that today is the day that I gathered the courage to write this. On June 4th I lost one of the most important men in my life. My grandpa, Morbe John Schneidewend. There is always the official obituary that lists all those who are left behind, and those who proceeded him in death, but it seems so short when I think of everything that Grandpa did in his life and all the things that I never knew and probably won't know about him.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In previous posts I've explained the chaos that was my youth. There was one constant in that storm and that was my grandma and grandpa's house. My sister and I were dropped off there almost every morning during elementary school. Grandma would make whatever I wanted for breakfast. It is part of the reason that I can't stomach French Toast anymore after eating it for a year straight. In other words, I spent a lot of time at their house. Before our clan got to large, every Easter, Christmas Eve, and Thanksgiving brought the entire family together. For the first eight years of my life I was the youngest of the cousins which meant I was the target of much hair pulling and teasing, but those gatherings were some of the happiest times.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even during my parent's divorce I looked forward to them, except for one Christmas Eve that was a horrible misunderstanding that had my mom not show up. I was devastated and in tears and while everyone was trying to get me to smile and be ok, Grandpa came to my aid and told them to leave me alone. That is one of my strongest memories of him. He was my defender and protector against the bad things.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The picture above is Grandma and Grandpa's wedding picture. They celebrated their 66th wedding anniversary the day before a horrible stroke struck Grandpa. When I got the voicemail from Mom to call her ASAP on Saturday, I thought the worse. He was in the hospital but the prognosis was not good. I was fortunate to have a coworker take my Sunday shift and Kevin and I went up to visit. Pretty much everyone was there. I don't think the ICU unit had seen that many people for one person for some time. The sign on the door saying two visitors in the room at any given time was ignored. It had been years since I had seen some of my cousins and some of my second cousins I hadn't even met, but for this event we made sure to be there. Those from out of town drove as fast as they could and those out of state tried to make arrangements to be there.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The stroke was very severe and knowing how stubborn he was the family knew he would not want to be on a feeding tube and a living shell. It became a horrible waiting game at that point. Kevin and I stayed at the hospital until seven Sunday night. When I was about to leave I leaned over and gave Grandpa a parting kiss on the cheek and told him I loved him. For the only time in the hours that I had been there he tried to speak, and I don't care what my aunt says, he told me he loved me in those mumbled words.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 5:30am Monday morning I got the call that he passed away. I suppose this was a blessing that he wasn't in such a state for very long. My grandma refused to leave his side that night. 66 years together after all. I think my cousin, Kathleen, said it best "<span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">It's not the fact that he's dieing it's the fact that my grandma stays by his side for worse or for poor, For over 66 years of marriage! My grandpa lived an amazing life! A life of faith, hard work and was putting people before himself! I am blessed to be able to have him in my life and for as long as I had! He will be missed but he will soar on the wings of eagles!</span><span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The rest of the week was a blur. I wanted to do something to memorialize Grandpa and the best thing I could think of was to plant a lilac bush. My grandparent's house is surrounded by lilacs. Every year Grandpa and I would clip bouquets for Grandma, so the lilac bush was fitting. It is not easy to find one so late in the season, and asking for violets at Home Depot is </span><span style="line-height: 17px;">evidently a cardinal sin. I managed to get a viola plant with seven little flowers on it that looked close enough to violets. I spent the day before the funeral with my sister, nephew, and brother-in-law at Grandma's. I gave Grandma three of the violets. The rest were for Grandpa. I put them i the breast pocket of his suit like so many other little hand made bouquets I had given him as a little girl.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; line-height: 17px;">That is all the sadness surrounding the end of Grandpa's life, but what of all the happiness? How selfish are we in our grief? My grandpa taught me as much about hard work and play as my own father, if not more. He spent hours taking apart electric motors for just a little bit of copper. He was climbing into his tree stand up until he was eighty years old. He was stubborn. Like a lot of older people he preferred not to take his pills and would cancel his birthday. He would eat entire meals without his dentures because he thought they felt funny. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">But he also let a little girl climb around the wood pile and find little pieces of wood that she could hammer together into homemade giraffes and horses. He would take her strawberry picking and fill buckets with berries. He would let her take things apart beside him and go hunting for worms in the garden. He took an old tire and built her a tire swing because she wanted one like the one at school. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">My favorite memory was when my sister was moving from Oregon to Boston my mom threw together a baby shower for her even though my nephew was already born and it was the first time the family was seeing him, while everyone was running around, Grandpa, Dad, and I sat outside staring at the clouds. With all the halabaloo that quiet moment of picking out shapes mattered the most. </span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394; color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">As an adult, my grandparents helped me out of some hard times financially and even when I got my feet under me he would force me to take money because I needed to pay for gas so I could visit him more. I am so glad I made those extra trips even if it was hard to see such a strong man shuffling around the house and my grandma's onsetting </span><span style="line-height: 16px;">Alzheimer's</span><span style="line-height: 17px;">. We would sit and watch the birds and squirrels and put together puzzles. I'm glad I would stop, turn around and give extra kisses and hugs, I guess I was stock piling them for now.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1wHWmVPpU_A/T95vaK0WP9I/AAAAAAAAALU/fGonmMn4Sco/s1600/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1wHWmVPpU_A/T95vaK0WP9I/AAAAAAAAALU/fGonmMn4Sco/s320/family.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Me, My Sis, Grandpa, Grandpa, and My Nephew</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sis and I joked that we had the monopoly with our grandparents, </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She was Grandma's, I was Grandpa's</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1G_PKFHVbz4/T95wSVbbx3I/AAAAAAAAALc/GgoGYK781Lo/s1600/grandpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1G_PKFHVbz4/T95wSVbbx3I/AAAAAAAAALc/GgoGYK781Lo/s1600/grandpa.jpg" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Morbe J. Schneidewend, age 86, was called to eternal life on Monday morning, June 4, 2012. Morbe was born in Waupaca County on December 20, 1925, son of the late Paul and Ella (Drath) Schneidewend. On June 1, 1946, he married Frances Wied i</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">n Bear Creek, and the couple celebrated 66 years together just this past Friday. As a young man he worked on a local farm, and over the years had a variety of different jobs. He delivered milk in the Clintonville area, worked at Neenah Foundry, Manhattan Rubber Company, Kimberly Clark, and retired from Stowe Woodward. Everyone will remember Morbe as a very hard working man with a great work ethic. Morbe loved to hunt and fish, and was a dedicated and faithful member of Bethel Ev. Lutheran Church in Menasha. In recent years, he loved to spend time on his porch, watching the birds and other critters at the feeder.<br /><br />Morbe is survived by his wife: Frances of Neenah; six children: Sheldon (Barb) of Menasha; Rodney (Sharon) of Hortonville; Peggy (Steve) Dillenberg of Greenville; Holly of Appleton; Timothy (Paula) of Grand Chute; and Tierney (Frank) Seebantz of Arbor Vitae; twelve grandchildren, twenty-two great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild; six brothers and sisters: Leland (Florence) of Menasha; Leo and his companion Pat of Milwaukee; Gladys Reinke of Sugar Bush; Lila Knack of Maryland; Art (Caroline) of Neenah; and Paul (Ann) of Clintonville; four sisters-in-law: Valeria Fletcher of New London; Bernice Young of New London; Irene Schneidewend of Cecil; and Helen Wied of Appleton. Morbe was preceded in death by his parents, and infant son, sisters: Violet and Reverna (Robert) Beyer; brothers: Philip, Clarence (Magdalen) Eric (Pat) and Lloyd; brother-in-law: Robert Reinke, Robert Knack, Gene Fletcher, Lloyd Young, Peter (Gloria) Wied, Llewellyn Wied, and Willard (Mabel) Wied; and sisters-in-law: Shirley Schneidewend, Marion (Hank) Lindemann, Sylvia (Winfred) Knutson, and Beatrice Wied.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-50932620990219554032012-05-14T16:08:00.001-05:002012-05-14T16:08:06.218-05:00College Girl<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><i style="color: #353535; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives</i>.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><i>~ Clay P. Bedford</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">It has been a very long time since my last post. I was surprised that everything for posting was reformatted, but I'll muddle my way through. So why has it been so long? School and work and life. So much has been happening this year. Also, I needed sometime to let events get farther into my past so I can be more comfortable telling them. I still have a year of insanity that I wanted to recount and another disaster of a relationship. After those downers I wanted to go into my silver lining story about the man who has changed my life in two years into something I could never have imagined. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">But for now, I'm just wanting finals week to be over. On Sunday I graduate with my Associates Degree in Supervisory Management. There's one more test between now and then, and I should be studying for it but I just really want to take a nap. It's scheduled for way too early in the morning so no late night cramming. Where I go with my education I have no clue. It took me ten years after high school to get something other than a technical certification, so it'll probably be another ten years for me to do something more. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">Any suggestions as to what to do with all the new free time I'm going to have since I won't be studying anymore? I'm looking forward to reading something that isn't assigned.</span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-29139329742626811242011-12-25T23:26:00.007-06:002011-12-26T19:44:02.200-06:00Girl on a Political Soapbox<div style="text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left; "><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I claim that human mind or human society is not divided into watertight compartments called social, political and religious. All act and react upon one another.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>~Mohandas Gandhi</span></i></div><div><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>We are more thoroughly an enlightened people, with respect to our political interests, than perhaps any other under heaven. Every man among us reads, and is so easy in his circumstances as to have leisure for conversations of improvement and for acquiring information.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>~Benjamin Franklin</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7mbVo8BuEkU/TvgGs8qexWI/AAAAAAAAAK4/wxNaanf5f6w/s200/PoliticalBrain.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690305498450937186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 130px; " /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><i><span ><br /></span></i></div><div><span >Admittedly, I usually avoid talking about topics political, but there is a reason I am driven to make this post: my brain won't shut down and let me sleep because it is thinking about this over and over again. </span></div></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span ><span>What is causing this? It starts with a comment that was left on a friend's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span></span> status that said: they say there are 2 kinds of republicans. rich ones and dumb ones. (That is typed exactly as it was typed in the comment) When I first read this statement I was very angry. I felt the person writing it to be incredibly judgmental, juvenile, and, honestly, an idiot. One thing I would like the reader to know, I don't fully consider myself a Republican. I am not far right, nor am I far left. I have my set of values that lead me to be </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Conservative in many of my positions and views. Needless, to say this means that I do feel attacked when people make such broad statements as this. This person doesn't know me, she is a friend of a friend. She doesn't care who sees what she says and that's part of what angered me. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " ><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " >As said, I don't usually speak up about politics because it leads to such backlash and no one really wins. Especially now that my state is in a huge political upheaval because many are unhappy with the way the elected Governor has been doing things. That is neither here nor there to what I am writing about though. It is the way people that are conducting themselves that is horrible. People are allowed to speak their minds, but they don't even bother with tact anymore. They don't care how others may react nor do they take the time to consider another side of things. I have been trying to be open minded and listen to the arguments of those who disagree with me, but it is really hard when they don't give me the same respect. They lump me into a political party and don't care what I personally might believe. They don't listen to counter arguments that they can't fight, instead they go back to the same old recitations without furthering the discussion. What's worse, is a lot of them aren't thinking for themselves. They have been told what to think and how to act and not question what they have been told. All the while, they say the same thing about the other side.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " ><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " >It is going to be a long election year coupled with a possible recall vote in this state. This is almost as bad as the last Presidential race where all I wanted to do was hide under the bed and wait for the world to end with the poll closures. We wonder why politicians can't get along on the state or federal level, while we watch the average person combat those of the opposing party. We call for an end to bipartisanship, then complain when the elected official votes against party lines. We act surprised when an elected official does what they say they will, then fight to stop them every step of the way. We celebrate cowards and curse those who do their day to day jobs. Maybe it isn't the other party that a person needs to step back and reflect upon, but ourselves as individuals. We expect so much out of everyone else and claim to be doing something for the greater good and all the while we are promoting 'our side' instead of stepping back and reviewing the greater picture.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " ><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; " >Back to the woman's comment though. I don't consider myself dumb. I have slightly above average intelligence, at least that's what the IQ test I took in my high school Psychology class told me and I can talk so I'm not mute. As to rich, at first I crossed it off that I'm not that either. Then I thought about it, I'm not rich monetarily, but I am rich in so many other ways. I am happy with my life which is filled with a loving family and good friends (even the ones that don't agree with me politically). I am blessed with a roof over my head, food for my table, a vehicle that runs, my needs are covered and there really aren't any wants. I am rich beyond belief and anyone can have this, it doesn't matter their political preference; they just need to open their eyes to what they have before them.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span >Merry Christmas!</span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-15253736078661851312011-09-13T14:16:00.007-05:002011-09-13T21:50:16.710-05:00Stressing Girl<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><i>There cannot be a stressful crisis next week. My schedule is already full.</i><div><i>~Henry Kissinger<br /></i><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GuAgZ93zTOY/Tm-zDAymymI/AAAAAAAAAKw/pz2yEBEbWoY/s200/Daily%2BClassic%2B2.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651932921706498658" /><br /><div>This weeks topic is taking a look at stress and all the lovely forms it can take and how it relates in my life. This gave me an opportunity to review and realize that in reality, a lot of my stress has gone away. I used to have to stress about bills and whether or not I was going to be able to buy groceries. Now I don't feel so afraid of that. Admittedly, having a stable relationship with someone who is financially responsible and willing to reel me in when I start getting overextended on wants vs. needs helps this situation. Now that those worries are no longer in the foreground, I don't know what I have to stress about. Maybe I'm just calming down as I get older and see that things are not as bad as I once thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I went looking around the internet for stress questionnaires after I came to the enlightenment that things aren't so bad and maybe I am maturing and maybe I'm actually doing really well. That is until the following happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Conversation with fiance:</div><div>Me: This test says my stress is high!</div><div>Him: Listen to your voice honey.</div><div>Me: What?</div><div>Him: High Pitched and loud. You're stressed because your taking</div><div>all these stress tests.</div><div><br /></div><div>(links to the tests on bottom of page)</div><div><br /></div><div>In other words, because I don't really think about the stress in my life as stressors; because they are just there and I have to live with them so why give them special names, I don't feel the stress that is occurring?</div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to rate my current level of stress, I would actually say it is pretty low. The biggest stressors in my life right now: Work, School, and the stupid fly that won't leave me alone!!!</div><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-avM7jf4TZfM/Tm-wcY6EY_I/AAAAAAAAAKo/2QR1W-ZOciE/s200/picturefly.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651930059142095858" /><div><br /></div><div>The simplest of these has to be the fly. Ok, I am using it as a scapegoat for other irritants, but it is something that I could do something about. This little pest manages to avoid squishing at every turn. Talk about a stressful existence! The bug just wants to buzz around land on a rotting banana peel, make a home in the rabbit litter, and lives its 15-30 day lifespan in grotesqueness. Instead, it spends most of its time buzzing around avoiding everything from a flyswatter to a tennis shoe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Work is work. I am fortunate to have a company that allows me to be be myself. There are open door policies in place so if there is a concern there are people to talk to. I really am fortunate. I can't control the weather or the economy. I'm less stressed about the seasonal layoffs this years. Probably because it allows me to focus on school more.</div><div><br /></div><div>This semester is gonna be one of my hardest. I am hoping to graduate next May, which means putting in for a lot of credits this and next semester. So far I'm handling it. The best thing I have found to handle it is a planner! In middle school and high school I was given a planner every year and never really made use of it. It only just dawned on me that this was a planner. I got one for school this year along with different <span class="Apple-style-span">c</span><span class="Apple-style-span">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">r</span> </span>pens so I am now color coordinated for all my classes. This semester also has me doing more full term classes. This is something to get used to because my accelerated program has me doing 8 week stints online. I am also having interaction with people because of my in-person class and that is stressing. Somehow I've been taking leadership roles and that's new to me. I'll make it through like always even if I freak out a bit, but I know that is my own doing. I put more stress on myself because I have to aim to do my best. So I spend a semester wondering if I'm answering things right or if I am doing what the teacher wants me to do. I need to stop second-guessing and relax.</div><div><br /></div><div>All kidding aside, there is one thing that I am stressed about, but I can't do anything about it so I don't mention it. I'm really worried that my grandparents won't be alive to see my wedding. I know that I could move up the date and ensure that they are there. As of right now it really wouldn't be a hard thing to do although we already have the caterer and location set for our chosen date, but that's over a year away. It is very important to me for them to know that I am married and okay; that they don't have to worry about me anymore. I worry that I don't see them enough or spend enough time with them. Grandma just was diagnosed with dementia and if confirming that I am me and not my sister was an issue before, I don't know how it will be now. I am scared and when the diagnoses came through, I avoided calling or stopping in because I'm too weak to deal with this...</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mindtools.com/stress/Brn/BurnoutSelfTest.htm">http://www.mindtools.com/stress/Brn/BurnoutSelfTest.htm</a><div><a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/stress-assessment/SR00029">http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/stress-assessment/SR00029</a></div></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-5518332651440398432011-09-01T17:46:00.003-05:002011-09-01T18:36:04.296-05:00Reflective Girl #1<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yht6X-5c1Y/TmAWgLdHMxI/AAAAAAAAAKY/kSgf_bid2FU/s1600/Dana%2BFradon%2B1%2BMay%2B1965%2Btragedy%2Bcomedy%2Bpair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 389px; height: 345px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yht6X-5c1Y/TmAWgLdHMxI/AAAAAAAAAKY/kSgf_bid2FU/s400/Dana%2BFradon%2B1%2BMay%2B1965%2Btragedy%2Bcomedy%2Bpair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647538674809123602" /></a>
<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><i><span class="body" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Everybody sees me as this sullen and insecure little thing. Those are just the sides of me that I feel it's necessary to show because no one else seems to be showing them.</span> </i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><i>~Fiona Apple</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>
<br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This quote resonates with me. I think that I portrayed a sullen person for quite some time, to the point I really do not know what else I am supposed to be. I watched so many people be bouncy and happy, and I could never figure out how they did it. It seemed so fake to me. I get nervous around people like that. I understand that in a vast majority of cases they are hiding their true selves behind this facade. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I know that I have my own facade though. I'm just a bit better at hiding it. I have an inferiority complex. While try to not portray this, I have always felt others were better than me. Growing up I was the girl that got picked up from school in a dump truck. I'm the girl who's parents divorced when I was ten. This doesn't seem like such a huge thing in today's society, but I grew up in a Christian school where divorce was a huge NO-NO, so this forged a sense of not belonging. Even after switching schools I was the odd ball. Still the daughter of a salvage man and the girl that wore Harley T-shirts. It was my twenties that I realized there was such a thing as women's shirts that were cut for women. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I never became a part of a group, but ventured from group to group. I never felt like I belonged to any of them. I just did my own thing. I went out with a high school friend and she told me that she respected me because I did that. I teared up when I heard that. I spent so much time feeling like I was unnoticed and in the shadows, when it wasn't the case. People did see. They may not have said anything at the time, but I made an impression. I still have friend's who tell me their parent's ask what ever happened to the girl who was going to work on motorcycles.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I guess I never gave myself the credit that I mattered. Now that seems a lifetime ago. I spent a few years lost and living just for the basics in life, but now, now I can move past that. Self actualization is a possibility. I kept in the shadows and away from people, now I crave interaction with others.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This may be why I don't mind working sales now. I get to meet lots of different people and I've put my time in so I don't need to feel inferior. If a customer feels that I don't know what I'm talking about, that's not my fault. They are ignorant. I've been in the industry eight years now, with three in my present position, I think I have a handle on it. If I don't know something, I am now able to ask for help and not feel ashamed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Despite all this, I have public mask. My fiance points it out when he visits me at work or overhears me on the phone. My voice raises in pitch and I tend to fake a lot of smiles. I'm not a bubbly person but I'm not a sullen person. I just am me. This comes across as condescending and aloof, and that hurts me that that is how people see me. I have told my manager on numerous occasions that if I could have a personality transplant I would. Not because I feel much of it needs to change; but so I could relate to others. I do not fit into the mold that everyone expects a person to present. Even if it isn't socially acceptable, I hold to my own opinions. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Luckily, I found someone who loves my quirkiness. I'm tired of beating my head against the wall trying to be something I'm not. I know that how I see myself is higher than I really am, but it's still obtainable. I also have people that will keep me grounded. I fool myself as much as I try to fool others. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>image is the work of Dana Fradon The New Yorker May 1, 1965</i></span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-45987697766222410852011-08-30T21:49:00.005-05:002011-08-30T21:56:39.199-05:00The Girl and School<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThZ2Ixf4h4s/Tl2i1qJMTYI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/D4ad_g3F0Cg/s1600/henry_ford_1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThZ2Ixf4h4s/Tl2i1qJMTYI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/D4ad_g3F0Cg/s400/henry_ford_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646848550522080642" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u>
<br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u>
<br /></u></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><i>Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.</i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><i>~Henry Ford</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><i>
<br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">I know I have been really bad with keeping to posts this summer. It is the busy season at work and I have been cramming wedding planning into the summer--even though the wedding's over a year from now. Well, I wanted to put up a quick post to let you all know I am going to be putting up a few post in the next few weeks that may seem a bit strange. That is because I am going to make use of Broken Girl for my Psychology class. We are to do Reflection pieces throughout the course and a lot of what we are studying is focusing on what this little blog is all about anyway, so I figured I could role it all into one. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Hope things are going well for everyone!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">~Andrea</span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-89182244148772313482011-05-29T20:03:00.007-05:002011-05-29T20:40:38.981-05:00The Girl Came From Somewhere After All<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OZchvhbgrR0/TeL0wGpE72I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/T1H9plQxGfs/s1600/grandmagrandpa.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OZchvhbgrR0/TeL0wGpE72I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/T1H9plQxGfs/s200/grandmagrandpa.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612317192910860130" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 0, 0); "><i>A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year. </i></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 0, 0); " ><i>~Paul Sweeney</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; " ><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; ">Today was a great day. I went back home (150 mile drive give or take) to celebrate my maternal grandparents' 65th Anniversary. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; ">The first time my grandparent's met they were on a double date. They weren't in the same couple on that double date, in fact if I remember the story correctly, Grandpa got stood up and was just following Grandma and her date around the fair, which is another reason that their 65 years together is even more impressive, in my opinion at least.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; " ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; " >Today was especially interesting because I have not seen the vast majority of my relation in what amounts to three years. The last time we gathered was for Grandma's 80th birthday. There was a sea of second cousins that I didn't know or recognize and out of the 12 cousins 9 were there. This was a tremendous showing. My mother chose work over driving down and to a degree I can't blame her too much. Money is tight, but still how often does a couple see 65 years? The actual anniversary is June 1st, but with it being Memorial Day weekend, it had better odds.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; " ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" >While this was a wonderful time, I found it unsettling. I don't get to see everyone very often and when I do it's like a huge time warp minus the fun costumes and a step to the left. Grandpa is using a walker now and this doesn't work in my mind. My grandpa was always out working in the yard, sorting scrap metal, or doing something. The thought of him needing assistance baffles me. Grandma is starting to confuse some things. I found it funny when I flipped through the picture book and my fiancé's name was suddenly 'Keith' easily remedied but still it isn't the way of things. Both of my grandparents are in their 80s so these signs of aging shouldn't come as such a shock, but it becomes harder because I feel faced with the inevitable. Although, I will give the family total props, this is one of the few occasions that I did not hear one person say, "This may be the last time we're all together like this." Something that has been a horrible theme for the last few occasions.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" >There has to be one port in the storm for every person. For me that was Grandma and Grandpa's house. It was a safe haven through all the horribleness of my parent's divorce. Even when things were said that weren't good for a young person to hear (it's a divorce everyone badmouths everyone after All) it was still comforting to go there. I joke with my sister that she's Grandma's favorite while I'm Grandpa's so we have a monopoly on them. I remember sitting in the basement making wooden animals out of the firewood or climbing the apple trees in the backyard. The wood burner is gone as are the apple trees. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" >With all the memories of baking cookies and watching cartoons or drawing on the underside of the coffee table or pretending the ornately carved legs of the dining room table were horses, there is one memory that stands out. It was one of the last Christmas Eve's that the family all gathered at Grandma's before we got to be too many. Mom and dad had been separated for awhile and fighting again and I hadn't seen or heard from her in probably near a month. I was so sure that she was going to be at Grandma's though. How could anyone miss Christmas? Why wouldn't she want to see me? Dad dropped me off and I waited. Mom wasn't going to show. She was off with her current boyfriend and would later claim that she figured I didn't want to see her so that was why she did not go. I remember breaking down. I couldn't stop crying. In front of all the cousins, aunts and uncles, I couldn't stop. Grandma tried to make me smile and get a picture, but Grandpa stepped in. He told her not to and leave me alone. Mom got called and eventually did show, but the part of that night that I will always remember is Grandpa stepping up and defending me. That was why their house is always safe.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;" >Congratulations Grandma and Grandpa! I know you never would have imagined 65 years or the sprawling family you started, but I for one am sure glad you did! </span></span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-13988585208226843562011-03-04T21:35:00.005-06:002011-03-04T21:53:12.192-06:00The Girl Takes No Credit For This<div class="blog_content blog_design_a" id="entry_body" style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font: normal normal normal 13px/20px Georgia, Century, Times, serif; "><div class="entry_body_text" style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; "><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; "><span style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; "></span></p><h1 style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: normal; "><span class="sqq" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline; "><i>“<a class="sqq" href="http://thinkexist.com/quotation/how_can_a_woman_be_expected_to_be_happy_with_a/217400.html" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-decoration: none; ">How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.</a>”</i></span></span></span></span></h1><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: normal; "><span class="sqq" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline; "><i>~Oscar Wilde</i></span></span></span></span></div><h1 style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><br /></span></span></h1><h1 style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">The other day at work I walked passed the downstairs TV and CNN was on. They were interviewing these two women about the 6 reasons women are single. The women are on an XM radio show called Broad Minded. The whole reason I stopped was one of the women was asked what were her reasons for being single. Her response stopped me in my tracks, she said, "I'll be honest, I'm a blend of three- You're a slut----" I never found out what the other part of the combination was. I couldn't believe she had just point blank said that on TV. I don't think I ever heard someone be that point blank.I hadn't watched the beginning or the rest of the clip. I finally found the whole article that started it all and am sharing it. </span></span></h1><div style="font-style: normal; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">I also included the video of the interview. YAY to me for figuring out how to embed it! The reason I am sharing it is because I so could relate to this article! So many of these reasons stacked up against me in the past. It was only when I stopped and took a breath and decided to take a better look at myself and what makes me happy was I able to find someone who could love me.</span></div><h1 style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: normal; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tracy-mcmillan/why-youre-not-married_b_822088.html" title="Permalink" id="title_permalink" style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; text-decoration: underline; font-size: 32px !important; line-height: 36px !important; font: normal normal bold 20px/22px Georgia, Century, Times, serif; ">Why You're Not Married</a></h1><div style="font-style: normal; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">By Tracy McMillan</div><p></p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">You want to get married</em>. It's taken a while to admit it. Saying it out loud -- even in your mind -- feels kind of desperate, kind of unfeminist, kind of definitely not you, or at least not any you that you recognize. Because you're hardly like those girls on TLC saying yes to the dress and you would never compete for a man like those poor actress-wannabes on <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">The Bachelor</em>.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">You've never dreamt of an aqua-blue ring box.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Then, something happened. Another birthday, maybe. A breakup. Your brother's wedding. His wife-elect asked you to be a bridesmaid, and suddenly there you were, wondering how in hell you came to be 36-years-old, walking down the aisle wearing something halfway decent from J. Crew that you could totally repurpose with a cute pair of boots and a jean jacket. You started to <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">hate</em> the bride -- she was so effing <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">happy</em> -- and for the first time ever you began to have feelings about the fact that you're not married. You never really cared that much before. But suddenly (it was so sudden) you found yourself wondering... <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">Deep, deep breath</em>... Why you're not married.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Well, I know why.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">How? It basically comes down to this: I've been married three times. Yes, three. To a very nice MBA at 19; a very nice minister's son at 32 (and pregnant); and at 40, to a very nice liar and cheater who was just like my dad, if my dad had gone to Harvard instead of doing multiple stints in federal prison.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">I was, for some reason,<em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; "> born</em> knowing how to get married. Growing up in foster care is a big part of it. The need for security made me look for very specific traits in the men I dated -- traits it turns out lead to marriage a surprisingly high percentage of the time. Without really trying to, I've become a sort of jailhouse lawyer of relationships -- someone who's had to do so much work on her own case that I can now help you with yours.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">But I won't lie. The problem is not men, it's you. Sure, there are lame men out there, but they're not really standing in your way. Because the fact is -- if whatever you're doing right now was going to get you married, you'd already have a ring on it. So without further ado, let's look at the top six reasons why you're not married.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; ">1. You're a Bitch.</strong><br />Here's what I mean by bitch. I mean <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">you're angry</em>. You probably don't think you're angry. You think you're super smart, or if you've been to a lot of therapy, that you're setting boundaries. But the truth is you're pissed. At your mom. At the military-industrial complex. At Sarah Palin. And it's scaring men off.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">The deal is: most men just want to marry someone who is nice to them. I am the mother of a 13-year-old boy, which is like living with the single-cell protozoa version of a husband. Here's what my son wants out of life: macaroni and cheese, a video game, and Kim Kardashian. Have you ever seen Kim Kardashian angry? I didn't think so. You've seen Kim Kardashian smile, wiggle, and make a sex tape. Female anger terrifies men. I know it seems unfair that you have to work around a man's fear and insecurity in order to get married -- but actually, it's perfect, since working around a man's fear and insecurity is big part of what you'll be doing as a wife.<br /><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; "><br />2. You're Shallow.</strong><br />When it comes to choosing a husband, only one thing really, truly matters: character. So it stands to reason that a man's character should be at the top of the list of things you are looking for, right? But if you're not married, I already know it isn't. Because if you were looking for a man of character,<em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">you would have found one by now</em>. Men of character are, by definition, willing to commit.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Instead, you are looking for someone <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">tall</em>. Or rich. Or someone who knows what an Eames chair is. Unfortunately, this is not the thinking of a wife. This is the thinking of a teenaged girl. And men of character do not want to marry teenaged girls. Because teenage girls are never happy. And they never feel like cooking, either.<br /><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; "><br />3. You're a Slut.</strong><br />Hooking up with some guy in a hot tub on a rooftop is fine for the ladies of <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">Jersey Shore</em> -- but they're not trying to get married. You are. Which means, unfortunately, that if you're having sex outside committed relationships, you will have to stop. Why? Because past a certain age, casual sex is like recreational heroin -- it doesn't stay recreational for long.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">That's due in part to this thing called oxytocin -- a bonding hormone that is released when a woman a) nurses her baby and b) has an orgasm -- that will totally mess up your casual-sex game. It's why you can be f**k-buddying with some dude who isn't even all that great and the next thing you know,<em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; "> you're totally strung out on him.</em> And you have no idea how it happened. Oxytocin, that's how it happened. And since nature can't discriminate between marriage material and Charlie Sheen, you're going to have to start being way more selective than you are right now.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; ">4. You're a Liar.</strong><br />It usually goes something like this: you meet a guy who is cute and likes you, but he's not really available for a relationship. He has some condition that absolutely precludes his availability, like he's married, or he gets around town on a skateboard. Or maybe he just comes right out and says something cryptic and open to interpretation like, "I'm not really available for a relationship right now."</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">You know if you tell him the truth -- that you're ready for marriage -- he will stop calling. Usually that day. And you don't want that. So you just tell him how perfect this is because you only want to have sex for fun! You love having fun sex! And you don't want to get in a relationship at all! You swear!<br />About ten minutes later, the oxytocin kicks in. You start wanting more. But you don't tell him that. That's your secret -- just between you and 22,000 of your closest girlfriends. Instead, you hang around, having sex with him, waiting for him to figure out that he can't live without you. I have news: he will never "figure" this out. He already knows he can live without you just fine. And so do you. Or you wouldn't be lying to him in the first place.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; ">5. You're Selfish.</strong><br />If you're not married, chances are you think a lot about you. You think about your thighs, your outfits, your naso-labial folds. You think about your career, or if you don't have one, you think about doing yoga teacher training. Sometimes you think about how marrying a wealthy guy -- or at least a guy with a really, really good job -- would solve all your problems.<br /><br />Howevs, a good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself. She has too much s**t to do, especially after having kids. This is why you see a lot of celebrity women getting husbands after they adopt. The kids put the woman on notice: <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">Bitch, hello! It's not all about you anymore! </em>After a year or two of thinking about someone other than herself, suddenly, Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford comes along and decides to significantly other her. Which is also to say -- if what you really want is a baby, go get you one. Your husband will be along shortly. Motherhood has a way of weeding out the lotharios.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><strong style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; ">6. You're Not Good Enough.</strong><br />Oh, I don't think that. You do. I can tell because you're not looking for a partner who is your equal. No, you want someone better than you are: better looking, better family, better job.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Here is what you need to know: <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">You are enough right this minute</em>. Period. Not understanding this is a major obstacle to getting married, since women who don't know their own worth make terrible wives. Why? You can fake it for a while, but ultimately you won't love your spouse any better than you love yourself. Smart men know this.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">I see this at my son's artsy, progressive school. Of 183 kids, maybe six have moms who are as cute as you're trying to be. They're attractive, sure. They're just not objects. Their husbands (wisely) chose them for their character, not their cup size.<br /><br /><em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">Alright, so that's the bad news.</em> The good news is that I believe every woman who wants to can find a great partner. You're just going to need to get rid of the idea that marriage will make you happy. It won't. Once the initial high wears off, you'll just be you, except with twice as much laundry.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">The bottom line is that marriage is just a long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don't deserve it. Because most of the time, your messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man will <em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">not</em> be doing what you want him to. But as you give him love anyway -- because you have made up your mind to transform yourself into a person who is practicing being kind, deep, virtuous, truthful, giving, and most of all, accepting of your own dear self -- you will find that you will experience the very thing you wanted all along:</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">Love.</p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; ">Tracy McMillan is a TV writer whose credits include Mad Men and The United States of Tara. Her memoir I Love You and I'm Leaving You Anyway is now available in paperback from Harper Collins/It Books. She lives in Los Angeles with her 13-year-old son. Follow her on <a href="http://twitter.com/whyurnotmarried" target="_hplink" style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(123, 3, 64); outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; text-decoration: none; ">Twitter</a>.</em></p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; "><br /></em></p><p style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 14px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><em style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: italic !important; "><br /></em></p></div></div><br /><object style="height: 390px; width: 640px" width="640" height="390"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/074j00lTveU?version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/074j00lTveU?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="390"></embed></object>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-26882683828815928022011-02-05T19:10:00.004-06:002011-02-05T19:33:48.394-06:00The Girl Gets Some Closure<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><i><h1 style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; " >“Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checked by failure...than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.”</span></h1><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; " >~Theodore Roosevelt</span></div></i><div><i><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TU31mCywa7I/AAAAAAAAAJs/pabYJkrhQCM/s200/domino.jpeg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 129px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570378348060765106" /></i></div><div>I am guilty of what has to be one of the dumbest moves I have ever made. Trust me when I say this is big considering some of the stupid stuff I have done. I looked the boy up on a social networking site. I did this about a year ago. I should really have let well enough alone, and for a long time I did. Then it starts eating away at you when you realize that there was no real closure to the situation. I am a person who needs closure. I'm not saying that I was stalking his page. In fact I ignored it for quite some time. I was discussing it with my fiance how I would love answers to the burning questions that I still have after three years of separation. Yes, that is an insane amount of time for this to still be bothering me, I realize this. I went ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div>I sent a message to him and as far as messages to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ex-es</span> go; it was rather tame and civil. I came to a realization. As much as he wants me to hate him, I actually should thank him! Yes, the boy who forced me into bankruptcy and foreclosure, who started my year of insanity, who broke up so many of my friendships...should be thanked! If he hadn't knocked me from my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pedestal</span> of everything being good in my life and forced me into a downward spiral that I barely recognized myself in, I could never have crawled back victorious. I never would be where I am now. </div><div><br /></div><div>So check list this with me. If all the horrible crap hadn't happened, I would never have...</div><div><br /></div><div>1)moved 150 miles from my family for a job and subsequently found my kick ass current job.</div><div>2)met the love of my life who accepts all of me past and all, even if he doesn't like it he accepts it.</div><div>3)reconnected with my family with even stronger bonds.</div><div><br /></div><div>In essence his method of destroying me backfired. In no way am I giving him any credit for these achievements, please don't read me wrong. I just give him credit for being the trigger. I did the work to become better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ultimately, I did get a response, in fact I got three responses. Upon reading these responses I realize some people never change and it's a very good thing I got out when I did because he really doesn't deserve someone like me.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style:italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div></span></div><div><span style="font-style:italic;"><br /></span></div></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-81838144223338836872011-01-07T21:06:00.002-06:002011-01-07T21:22:44.751-06:00Lost in Motion Girl<i>I have come back again to where I belong; not an enchanted place, but the walls are strong.</i><div><i>~ Dorothy H. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rath</span></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Happy New Year!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>, it has been a very long time since I posted anything. Would anyone believe the biggest reason for this is I couldn't find my quote book? I was getting ready to move around the time of the last post and the everything got bundled away into boxes and satchels. (Did I really just use the word satchel in a sentence?...Twice?) Moved into the new apartment and most every box got put into the second bedroom to wait for the moment that it would be unpacked. The problem with this being, there was not sufficient cabinet space, so a cabinet was bought and put together by yours truly ^_^ Then boxes started to get unpacked and low and behold the book was found, but school was in full session and even though it is slow season, work is hopping. Tonight, I only just re-found the book behind My Love's stash of energy drinks in said cabinet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me catch everyone up. Finally decided on a course of action as far as school is concerned. I am doing Supervisory Management Program. I am going to overload myself this coming semester with a full course load of 15 credits on top of full time employment. Although I fully understand this is nothing new in the history of schooling, it is new to me so I am kind of dreading it. I lost my 4.0 last semester because of Accounting, but still got High Honors, major accomplishment for the math disinclined, such as myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>I found my passion for work again. This may have been due to the fact we had holiday shut down and I had an entire week between Christmas and New Years to work on putting the apartment in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">semblance</span> of order that it has yet to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">achieve</span> since the move. Or maybe the fact that my manager and myself are it for most of the slow season so I <i>have </i> to step up the game since we are technically "two men down"... technically. </div><div><br /></div><div>I maintained most my writing goals last year. Broken Girl suffered, but I did submit at least one piece each quarter and collected a couple of new rejection letters.</div><div><br /></div><div>I found the perfect wedding gown and now hope that I fit into it when the wedding actually happens. On the positive side, it will be paid for by the time of the wedding ^_^ I also have my bouquet made and that will hopefully stay assembled for the next two years.</div><div><br /></div><div>So readers, I apologize for my absence. I will more than likely be back once school begins because the blog is a great way to procrastinate on homework and I'm good at that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope everyone had a great New Years celebration and that life is going to be even better for 2011.</div><div><br /></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-15662311503938670312010-07-21T08:36:00.003-05:002010-07-21T09:00:04.075-05:00The Girl's Relationship Lessons<em>I would rather entertain and hope people learned something than educate people and hope they were entertained.</em><br /><em>~ Walt Disney</em><br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ok</span>, I know there are tons of books out there and they spout most of what I'm writing. I've read these books, rolled my eyes and said "Yeah, right, not me." There is a lot of truth behind those books and whether we believe them at the time or not, well I for one got caught up in it.<br /><br />1) If a guy says he's incapable of love: Believe him! I spent over a year and a half hearing this line and refused to believe it. I thought it was baloney. It wasn't. No matter what I would do wasn't going to change his mind. He wasn't ready for a relationship and had told me straight out that he wasn't. I was too focused on making him care for me I missed the most obvious hint that it wasn't worth my time.<br /><br />2) In no way shape or form does anyone have the right to call you demeaning names. The one exception to this might be is if you agree to kinky stuff in the bedroom, but that's your <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">prerogative</span>. I for one did not need my self-esteem shattered by being calling a slut and a whore by someone I wasn't dating. If someone needs to belittle you; you're better off on your own.<br /><br />3) When there is a perpetual need for you to cover every bill that comes your way when in a committed relationship. I'm not saying that the girl can't cover dinner and household expenses. I firmly believe in the 50/50 trying to not overwhelm the other person with financial <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">responsibility</span>, but if a pattern forms that it isn't so 50/50 more like 100% on your shoulders it's time to reevaluate.<br /><br />4) Waiting is worth it! There are so many little compromises a person makes in relationships. Soon you start writing off things just to stay with someone. Well... he smokes and I don't, but as long as it's outside, I guess it's not that bad... WRONG! If you don't like something there is no reason to sweep it under the rug just to stay with someone. It's just blinding you to possible bigger faults. There are actually people out there that match your values out there and it may take some digging to find them and, yes heartbreak along the way, but trust me: IT IS AMAZING when you don't have to overlook things that irritate you just so you can be with someone. (Not saying there is no compromise, just not to the point that it whitewashes everything and makes you question your values)<br /><br />5) Do not degrade yourself. When you find yourself in the bank office bawling your eyes out because your significant other did not follow though with promises and they are threatening to take away your car to the point your grandparents have to step in, or your begging friends and family for money: It is time to open your eyes. This was a major thing toward the end of the Girl Meets Boy saga but it goes beyond <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">panhandling</span>. There are a lot of weird requests out there. Especially after a bad break-up it is easy to lose self-respect. Yes, you do things that you would not do in your normal frame of mind.<br /><br />However, have enough respect for yourself to draw the line on things that could truly harm you or degrade you. Among these: crying and begging someone to stay with you when they've made it clear your just a sex toy to them (they aren't going to change their mind and you just made yourself out to be a needy fool), giving into odd sexual fantasies of a partner that put you to shame (You have every right to say no to things you are not comfortable with) <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Obsessing</span>/Stalking (You don't need to know what they are doing every moment of the day anymore than they need to know about you)<br /><br />If for any reason the person you are with has issue with you denying something that you're not comfortable with, take a moment to look at the overall and decide if the person is worth being with.Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-58509551415073828732010-07-11T22:20:00.004-05:002010-07-11T22:35:35.371-05:00Happy but Worried Girl<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TDqNf7MyyII/AAAAAAAAAJU/gtdnErc-cQc/s1600/seuss.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492858275138553986" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TDqNf7MyyII/AAAAAAAAAJU/gtdnErc-cQc/s200/seuss.jpg" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>When you are in love you can't fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams.</em></div><br /><br /><div><em>~Dr. Seuss</em></div><br /><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><br /><div>Today is a momentous day for me. Six months ago I made contact with the one person in the world who turned my view on life and love around. Happy Anniversary Love!</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I apologize for not keeping up with the blog. Season hit and after running around at work coming home and thinking of posts has become difficult. Correction, sitting down and putting it down on the keyboard is difficult. I swear I have had about thirty post topics flit through my mind only to escape to the recesses of subconscious when I get my motivation up enough to do something about it.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I watched a documentary about Heavy Metal recently and in it Dee Snyder of Twisted Sister was telling a story about how one day he was sitting by the pool trying to write the next "We're Not Going to Take It" and found that he couldn't do it. His life had turned around with all the success that writing about rebellion and scrapping by was really hard. I understood the concept when I watched it, but now I can relate. I have lost focus of where Broken Girl was supposed to go. I plan to return on track and continue the stories that I started to tell. I apologize for my procrastination.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I must pose this question because of something happening with one of my friends has me puzzled. Is it possible to fall headlong in a long-distance relationship with someone? If you are not near the person, can you have a true romance and be angry or surprised if it fails? And if you are in such, or trying to maintain such, a relationship: How much contact is acceptable? I know there are times in close distant relationships where it seemed like I was in almost constant contact/checking in status with the other person, I don't even know where you begin to decide such lines in a cross-country affair...</div><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492857285995596306" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TDqMmWWvChI/AAAAAAAAAJM/lNWGb5Fu2z0/s200/hearts.jpg" /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-61369178851875868602010-06-17T18:44:00.003-05:002010-06-17T19:02:28.471-05:00Washer Girl<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TBq0A0n-VAI/AAAAAAAAAJE/5hiXTuVpR4U/s1600/laundromat_sprawl_265.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 136px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483893422496306178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TBq0A0n-VAI/AAAAAAAAAJE/5hiXTuVpR4U/s200/laundromat_sprawl_265.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about.</em></div><div><em>~ Charles <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Kingsley</span></em></div><div><em>.</em></div><div>I went to the laundromat today. Seemingly a mundane task, and do not get me wrong, I do not mind doing laundry, I just do NOT like paying for it. For this reason, I usually will load everything into the car and drive 150 miles to my dad's house to hang out with him and just as importantly get clean socks. Of course this is based upon a schedule that usually does not allow me two days off in a row, so my time as a Victoria's Secret cashier is still paying off since I (in theory) do not need to laundry for a minimum of a month and a half. Plus, I am no longer allowed to do it because I spend too many quarters...</div><div>. </div><div>But I highly doubt you want to know the details of my clothing, that really is not the topic of today's blog. It is the conversation I had while in the laundromat with an elderly lady. I inherited my Dad's ability to talk to strangers; even though I have a phobia of telephones. This gift is how I can be in a buffet line and learn about the pancake maker's eighteen month old son. There really is one topic most everyone wants to or is able to talk about and that is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">themselves</span>. How many personal blogs (Broken Girl included) are out there for crying out loud?</div><div>.</div><div>The thing is does anyone listen? We spend so much time wrapped up in ourselves or the false lives of TV/movie/book characters or tabloid section that do we never look at our neighbor, our close friends, our own family to find out what it is that makes them tick.</div><div>.</div><div>The lady today is eighty years old. Her husband and she are from a state away but are staying at a local campground. They are staying for the rest of the year because the husband has to do dialysis three times a week and it is easier to get it near here than back home, and they enjoy being around here. They have a large family with multiple <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">grandkids</span> and great-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">grandkids</span>. </div><div>.</div><div>They have lost one son and still speak with his wife and she would move up here to be with them if she could get a job around here. The kids come up every weekend to bring the mail and check on them. How great is that? So much love in the family, so much life lived! She had to ask her daughter just how long she (the lady I was speaking with) and her husband had been married because she remembered her fiftieth anniversary but the ones that followed just blurred.</div><div>.</div><div>For all of this though, both she and her husband are ready to die at any time. They just want to go to sleep and never wake up. They have lived a good life and even in the hard times came through it. There is nothing more they want to do. </div><div>.</div><div>I am glad I got to speak with this lady, whom I do not even have a name for, it got me thinking of how many stories each person has and how many get lost because no one listens. </div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-72475614756635832072010-06-08T18:40:00.003-05:002010-06-08T18:54:02.716-05:00The Girl has an Announcement<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TA7WCzmcE7I/AAAAAAAAAI8/z1VJpB7w5KE/s1600/books.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 128px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480553140255986610" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/TA7WCzmcE7I/AAAAAAAAAI8/z1VJpB7w5KE/s200/books.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>Being married doesn't make you happy; it makes you married. </em></div><br /><div><em>~Marian Jordan from Wilderness Skills for Women:How to Survive Heartbreak and Other Full Blown Meltdowns</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div>.<br /><div>I have to say that that book is one of my all time favorites. It helped a lot when I felt very lost. Marian Jordan has a lot of of good Christian Inspirational/ Self-Help books, what makes them so great? She's human! Her writing style is compelling and sincere. A number of self-help or Christian books seem so doom and gloom. The writer does not care about the reader. </div><div>.</div><div>This is not the case with Marian Jordan. Her other books include <em>Sex and the City Uncovered: Exposing the Emptiness and Healing the Hurt </em>and <em>The List: Figuring Out Prince Charming, the Corner Office and Happily Ever After. </em>She also started Redeemed Girl ministries (<a href="http://www.redeemedgirl.org/">HTTP://www.redeemedgirl.org</a>) and I must admit, that she is part of the reason I started Broken Girl/Fractured World.</div><div>.</div><div>However, that a book review is not the purpose of this entry. I just want to apologize that I have been on a sort of writing hiatus the last couple weeks. School ended (4.0 semester!) work is getting busy (despite the rain) and I have been discussing things thoroughly with the the love of my life and am incredibly happy to announce:</div><div>.</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">I AM ENGAGED!!!</span></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-89656821376270074432010-05-25T18:35:00.004-05:002010-05-25T18:46:12.113-05:00Essay Girl #2<em>I present to you in a form suitable to the relationship I wish to achieve with you.</em><br /><em>~Luigi Pirandello</em><br /><br />Within the Public Eye<br />.<br />It is safe to assume that millions of electronic transactions take place on a daily basis. The banking system thrives on debit cards that allow the consumer easier access to their funds without withdrawing the physical bills and coins from their account. When looking at the receipts the merchant is taking it at face value that the money will be transferred to them. No longer is society dependant on a tangible thing such as paper currency. Checks work along the same principle that the value written on it is the value to be paid. There is no longer any need for physical contact in order for a transaction to take place.<br />.<br />The same principle can now be applied in social media. How? Online a person can present themselves however they deem fitting and it is up to the individual viewing the words to form a picture and determine if it is true or false. This is where persona becomes open to interpretation. Not only does the information presented become part of the deciding factor in believing someone, the prejudices and personality of the reader come into play.<br />.<br />In the article “Written in Blood”, Adi Kuntsman describes a scene that played out over a bulletin board, the members of which were Russian-speaking gays, lesbian, bisexuals, and transgendered who live in Israel. This particular thread is of note because so much is wrapped in it. Real World politics come into play when a new member joined the discussion. The user name of the new individual was “Daughter of Palestine” and her place of residence was listed at “occupied Palestine”. Most of the members of the site were Israeli or Russian in origin and began to question the new user’s validity. Due to the fighting in the area most were against her and suddenly a good majority of time was spent trying to decipher the origin of “Daughter of Palestine”. It became overly important to label her as a fraud and discredit her because of her heritage. After all, to most users of the site anyone claiming Palestinian descent was naturally a liar because of the racial bias of the area. The board users were accustomed to like points of view coming from others on the board and Daughter of Palastine challenged those views not only with her presence, but by presenting arguments to the contrary. (Kuntsman, 2008)<br />.<br />This is an extreme case of not believing what is presented, even when the user asserted her position, Daughter of Palastine had to prove herself over and over again. Doing so in a very tactful and educated way, until another user ‘borrowed’ her identity and started writing things that countered what the original said. Whether there really was a clone or if it was the first user playing around was never determined, and in the end the entire board was left more confused than when the thread started. (Kuntsman, 2008)<br />.<br />The example of “Written in Blood” shows what happens when a user is looked upon in suspicion. Due to the region and the politics it is understandable that such a thing could happen. However, one can be too trusting of information presented online.<br />.<br />A close friend of mine was using Internet dating sites. He met a woman that he grew very close to. She lived in a neighboring state so much of their conversations were done via telephone or e-mail. The two of them were becoming closer with each exchange. He went so far as to cancel a career opportunity because it would move him too far away from her; then, he asked to meet with her.<br />.<br />At this point the woman became very hesitant and uncooperative with information. She started telling my friend she was diagnosed with cancer and was not up for visitors or that the dates coincided with treatments. The stories became more and more grandiose as he tried to get closer to her. She kept him at arm’s length. Eventually, her stories collided and he found out the truth.<br />.<br />This woman was married, twice the age she claimed to be, and used her daughter’s photograph as a profile picture. She had drug my friend’s heart through a lot and left him unsure of where he stood in anything. He had opened himself up for this person only to have her make a fool of him. (interview, 2010)<br />.<br />It should not be overly surprising to see that in a 2007 survey done by Advertising Age that 61% of participants believed that online profiles are exaggerated. (Wheaton, 2007) As in the case of my friend there are people out there who lie and use the Internet deceptively toward their own ends.<br />.<br />This is not to be interpreted that everything presented in a profile is false. It just shows that some online profiles are exaggerated, or as one survey participant put it:<br />.<br /><em>"As an avid Facebook user, I can fully attest that Facebook does not honestly reflect who we (college students) are; in fact, I would argue that it is the main reason we continue to use Facebook. We may start out using it as a social medium for connecting to friends, but the truth is, by the time we're that far in, we're hooked on the fact that it's about ourselves more than anything. … it’s entertainment that allows us to be as important and cool as we always thought we should be."</em> (Wheaton, 2007)<br />.<br />This is a major point to be made: the Internet allows the individual to market themselves in ways the previously were unavailable. Unlike before, a writer can reach a mass audience through a web log or podcast. What had started as a few technophiles posting user-generated content, jumped to almost 48 million people or 35% of users in 2005. There is now a tool that allows people to express their thoughts, and thanks to small groups of followers, a blogger can feel the success that eludes them in real life. It is important to remember that this does not mean fame and fortune outside cyberspace. (Bulk, 2006)<br />.<br />As the amount of information expands a paradox begins to form in regards to privacy. The more information an individual places online, the more that individual becomes known. In regard to social networking sites, this becomes a concerning issue. When initializing a profile the sites ask for details ranging from name to birth date to hometown and contact information. It is important to remember how much this information opens an individual to the public realm. In addition, anonymity is removed with a picture. (Taraszow, et al., 2010) It is more concerning when viewed from the standpoint that younger users are disclosing this information without concern of consequences.<br />.<br />The case of the Sanders family in Washington state is just one example. The family had posted an ad on Craigslist to sell a diamond ring. They then arranged a meeting with a buyer in their home to view the ring. After everything was agreed upon three associates of the buyer came into the house and proceeded to ransack the house looking for other valuables. They then started to beat the wife and oldest child, at which point the husband tried to defend his family and was fatally shot. Thankfully, three of the four assailants have been arrested.(King 5, 2010)<br />.<br />Sadly, this is not the only story like this and serves as a warning. In no way are such acts new, but now it is easier to release personal data and open oneself up to become a possible target.<br />.<br />Online someone is always watching and when that is kept in mind there is a shift in the personality of the one posting. Just as a person shifts their demeanor when in public, a person changes their methods of conduct online. In their study, Gonzales and Hancock, (2008) studied the writings and a view of people’s personality when they thought they were writing on a public blog versus a text document. A shift in personality was clearly noted in this process. When the participant thought others were going to see the material, they were more extroverted in their statements. They were much more optimistic and open with details.<br />.<br />With the appearance of optimism and the details provided from users, we learn that Cyberspace is not going away and more information will be viewable as time goes along. Therefore, as a society those using it are becoming more aware of being watched and presenting themselves in a more public way. Could a shift back to etiquette be a possibility? This is not probable; however, when made aware that others are watching it is more likely that a person will think twice before posting something and reconsider the validity of the information they view.<br />.<br />Even though friendships can be formed online that would not develop without the Internet; the personality and human factor remain. Not everyone using the Internet is friendly. As in the case of my friend, he met with a liar who toyed with him for her own amusement; but, there are those who use message boards and network sites to find victims. ‘Don’t talk to strangers’ is what most parents tell children in the real world and then proceed to break that rule online. The Internet is not a safeguard from bad things happening to an individual; it is a tool that can be used positively or negatively depending on the personality and desire of the user. The same concept applies to every user out there which needs to be kept in mind each time a post is created or read. The individual needs to be aware of dangers that come with posting, while looking at how they present themselves to others. In this way it is no different than in the world outside of Cyberspace.<br />.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Works Cited<br />Gonzales, Amy L., and Jeffrey T. Hancock. "Identity Shift in Computer-Mediated Environments." Media Psychology 11.2 (2008): 167-85. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 1 May 2010. <http: url="http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ufh&AN=32771568&loginpage=Login.asp&site=ehost-live">.<br />King 5 News, comp. "Craigslist Murder Victim Widow: 'This Was an Evil, Evil Act'" King5.com [Edgewood, Washington] 5 May 2010. Print.<br />Kuntsman, Adi. "Written In Blood." Feminist Media Studies 8.3 (2008): 267-83. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 1 May 2010. <http: url="http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ufh&AN=34011149&loginpage=Login.asp&site=ehost-live">.<br />"Past Experience With Online Dating." Personal interview. 5 May 2010.<br />Snyder Bulik, Beth. "Web Celebs Leverage Their Online Identities." Advertising Age 6 June 2006: 6. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 1 May 2010. <http: url="http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ufh&AN=21391129&loginpage=Login.asp&site=ehost-live">.<br />Taraszow, Tatjana, Elena Aristodemou, Georgina Shitta, and Yiannis Laouris. "Disclosure of Personal and Contact Information by Young People in Social Networking Sites: An Analysis Using Facebook Profiles as an Example." International Journal of Media and Cultural Politics 6.1 (2010): 81-101. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 1 May 2010. <http: url="http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ufh&AN=47841229&loginpage=Login.asp&site=ehost-live">.<br />Wheaton, Ken. "What You Say." Advertising Age 5 Nov. 2007: 4. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 6 May 2010. <http: url="http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ufh&AN=27403199&site=ehost-live">.Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-18228563504083777982010-05-13T22:32:00.003-05:002010-05-13T22:52:05.632-05:00Insight Girl<em>It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes. it takes more gut and gumption to forgive them for having witnessed your own. </em><br /><em>~ Jessamyn West</em><br /><em></em><br />Today would equal one of those days that should be shelved in a dark corner and never reflected upon again. It started really well. Then I checked my banking account and had to run out the door to deposit money because I had once again neglected things and gone <span style="color:#ff0000;">red </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">so thanks to the wonderful man in my life I was able to save myself from another fee for today.<br /><br /></span>Then I went to work. It was a typical day, the rain keeping a good portion of customers at bay. Curses on fair weather riders! Curses I say! This was only moderately bad. I was still kicking myself for the overdraft and not watching carefully. I've been insanely good for the last two years to the point of paranoia when it comes to the check book.<br /><br />Then the call came in. I had ordered and sent off the wrong part to a customer. I felt so bad and had mucked everything up. Two points to this: one the customer assured me it was okay, he works in public relations and is used to this on a daily basis and he hoped I was not going to get in trouble with my manager and two, my manager basically looks at things as 'we are human, we make mistakes, apologize, fix, move on'.<br /><br />What does this tell us? Everyone involved is okay with the situation and it has been resolved to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">everyone's</span> satisfaction. So why do I continue to kick myself? Why does it bother me so much that I goofed and fixed a problem?<br /><br />Maybe the conversation I had with a parental unit after work sheds some light. After explaining that I made a mistake and how I made said mistake, confusing model years and models, I get a reply of: What's going on? Why aren't you concentrating hard enough?<br /><br />Really? Does it matter that I had actually fixed my initial mistake of almost ordering for a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">FLTR</span> instead of a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">FLHX</span> before the order was processed? No. Does it matter that the particular binder that I was looking at has 3 model years in it separated only by a sheet of orange paper? No. I should have been on top of it from the start.<br /><br />This brief conversation shed so much light on things. I have always strove to do beyond what is humanly possible because one slip up gets just the slightest comment of criticism and it spirals me downward. I wonder how many people realize how off handed supposedly helpful/probing questions really rock people from their place of security...Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-14419921795571042112010-05-03T22:39:00.003-05:002010-05-03T22:57:44.496-05:00The Girl Pays Tribute: Audrey Hepburn<em>I never think of myself as an icon. What is in other people's minds is not in my mind. I just do <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9-XPmYB-sI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Wb3PF6CgCyc/s1600/audrey3.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467254766906243778" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9-XPmYB-sI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Wb3PF6CgCyc/s200/audrey3.jpg" /></a>my thing.</em><br /><em>~Audrey Hepburn</em><br /><br />Audrey Hepburn was born May 4, 1929. I can think of very few actors or actresses that can or could match the beauty and grace that Audrey portrays on the silver screen. Her waif like look and classy demeanor just make her one of the most beautiful people to have lived.<br /><br />But there was so much more to this woman! Her <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">filmography</span> includes 31 stunning films. Among which are <em>Funny Face, My Fair Lady, </em>and <em>Breakfast at Tiffany's.</em> She retired at the top of her game in the late 1960s, although she did do an occasional film in the following decades.<br /><br />Yet, the masterpieces she left on film are nothing compared to the compassion and grace she had off the screen. In 1988, Audrey became a special ambassador to the United Nations UNICEF fund helping children in Latin America and Africa, a position she retained until 1993, when she passed away January 20<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">appendicular</span> cancer.<br /><br /><em>I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.</em><br /><em>~Audrey Hepburn</em><br /><p><em></em></p><p></p><br /><br />http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-79588183803378004182010-05-03T22:03:00.003-05:002010-05-03T22:29:14.483-05:00The Girl's Over a Quarter Century Old!!!<em>I don't want to wake up half a century older; wanting to be a quarter century new.</em><br /><em>~ Jimmy <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Newquist</span> of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Caroline's</span> Spine</em><br /><br />May 4<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> marks the beginning of the next quarter of my life! Yes, I ran around last year going on about being a quarter century old. Funny thing Dad was saying the same thing. I am certain most 25 year <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">olds</span> do not run around saying this...<br /><br />So what does this mean? It's just a day after all. Well it is MY day! Birthdays return me to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">mentality</span> of a five year old. I get overly giddy and excited and can't wait for what the day will bring. I think this has to do with it being one of the few 'holidays' that does not have some form of negative connotation surrounding it. I have spent the last week overdosing on suspense.<br /><br />Mind you, I have had what amounts to a week of celebrations. The boyfriend took me to the House on the Rock last week because I have wanted to go for so long. Yesterday he took me to see <em>The Lion King</em>. It was amazing! I got attacked by a giraffe, we were REALLY close to the stage. Because I have been so over eager, he moved tomorrow's events to tonight. Part of this is because he has Monday nights off and wouldn't have to rush everything between my getting done with work and him going to work. I think it was also because he feared I had let my expectations get a little too high and out of control and was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">uber</span> afraid I'd be disappointed. What he does not know is, I do this <em>all </em>the time! I get bouncy excited about things and create insane possible outcomes. I know I do this and for that reason and rarely am surprised when reality does not match the fantasy. It comes from overactive imagination.<br /><br />I think things are going well. I have taken to heart the lessons of the first 25 years and can dwell on them for a moment. I know what it is to be treated well by someone (finally), still learning to accept that I am allowed to be treated this way, the world will not end if I find happiness in some small way, speaking my mind and standing up for myself is far better than being a doormat, but class and grace will win out every time over selfishness and immaturity. I can take whatever life wants to throw at me and have the most kick ass support system a girl can ask for when I get out of the way and ask for help.<br /><br />Really mind boggling fact, this means I have owned my bike <em>half </em>my life. I know some old school riders that can't even claim that! ~_^<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9-O4DR2ruI/AAAAAAAAAIk/w-lnu46mC64/s1600/26th.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467245566255083234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9-O4DR2ruI/AAAAAAAAAIk/w-lnu46mC64/s200/26th.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-91805109322007427292010-04-29T23:45:00.006-05:002010-04-30T00:18:56.253-05:00Dreamer Girl<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9pnOrJqyWI/AAAAAAAAAIc/XBbGBQ1nHqI/s1600/POL-wolfpack-2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 139px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465794599566625122" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9pnOrJqyWI/AAAAAAAAAIc/XBbGBQ1nHqI/s200/POL-wolfpack-2.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p><em>The feeling of inferiority rules the mental life and can be clearly recognized as the sense of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">incompleteness</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">unfulfillment</span>, and in the uninterrupted struggle both of individuals and of humanity.</em></p><br /><p><em>~Alfred Adler</em></p>.<br /><p><em>Our unconsciousness is like a vast subterranean factory with intricate <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">machinery</span> that is never idle, where work goes on day and night from the time we are born until the moment of our death.</em></p><br /><p><em>~Milton R. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Sapirstein</span></em></p>.<br /><div><br /></div><div></div><div>The moon is high over the forest, but little light makes its way through the thick boughs of evergreens. The pack is running tonight. Their numbers are rarely the same sometimes seven, sometimes nine. It is always an odd number and they are never on the hunt. They are summoned.</div>.<br /><div>The scene shifts. The shaman sits before a fire in a clearing. The smoke curls up into the inky blue night sky. A few stars are visible, but the shaman does not look up. He is waiting. He can hear the paws on the forest floor even at this distance.</div>.<br /><div>The pack can sense they are close. They speed up managing to avoid every tree in their path, plunging through shallow streams effortless on their way to the shaman.</div>.<br /><div>He waits patiently, never moving. Not even when they break into the clearing. The wolves study the shaman with disinterested yellow eyes. They do not wish to be here. Suddenly, the flesh begins to melt from the shaman and slowly his bones appear and he crumbles into nothing more than a heap of ivory.</div>.<br /><div>Some of the pack begins to advance on the marrow filled treat. They may not be hunting, but they will not turn down such an invitation. Then those who do not wish to partake turn against their own to defend the bones. The defenders are often outnumbered and snarling and biting. If the succeed the shaman begins to regenerate. Slowly sinew and flesh knit together into a being. he takes a piece of burning wood from the fire and scares away the members of the pack that would have done him harm. Then he sits down with his defenders and the night fades away.</div>.<br /><div>This was the dream I had over and over as a child. I usually woke up in a cold sweat when the shaman began to decay. It really was feature film quality. One night I forced myself to watch it all. That's when I found out about the pack dividing itself over the remains and the shaman's regeneration.</div>.<br /><div>There always seems to be one dream that reoccurs to a person that is theirs to interpret. My dad had one with cats and spoiled milk; mine was the wolves.</div>.<br /><div>I finally sat down and figured out what it all meant. Whether you believe in dream interpretation or not, I must say that I have only had the dream maybe twice after I figured out what it all meant. That's twice in near ten years after having it nightly or, at the very least weekly, as a young girl.</div>.<br /><div>The shaman represented me as a whole. The pack: my self-image. The wolves that advanced on the bones were all my doubts and fears. Every part of me that beat me up and told me I was no good. That I should be swallowed hold and destroyed because there was no purpose for me. Every mistake I made in reality there was a voice in my head ready to devour me with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">criticisms</span>. The defenders were that bit of confidence I always had, the last bit of hope. For a very long time that bit of me was outnumbered by the self-loathing. Finally, that part became stronger to the point it could overcome the adversary. </div><div>.</div><div>This dream was my mind's method of telling me to layoff myself. I needed to be scared witless in my sleep to see it, but eventually I did. I still hold myself to an overly high standard; just not nearly as bad as before. When I do start to get over bearing the dream will float to the front of my subconcious and remind me to back down for the time being.</div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1446188434487738652.post-66885680739100620602010-04-27T21:39:00.004-05:002010-04-27T22:07:12.856-05:00Tourist Girl<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9eljydyaFI/AAAAAAAAAIE/8K-lNpV660c/s1600/House_Image_BW_fs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 159px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465018707098101842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OaZKf60OWxM/S9eljydyaFI/AAAAAAAAAIE/8K-lNpV660c/s200/House_Image_BW_fs.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><em>We all have some taste or other, of too ancient a date to admit of our remembering that it was an acquired one.</em><br /><em>~Charles Lamb</em><br /><br />Sorry all for missing last week. Never found a moment alone with my keyboard. Classes are winding down and I should be focused on my last quizzes and papers, but right now I cannot. I am a week away from my birthday and as a present I was taken to the House on the Rock today.<br /><br />I have spent the last four birthdays saying I will go to this attraction that has been practically in my backyard, just off the beaten path about 50 miles but close enough that there was no excuse. I'm sure that every place has that attraction that everyone that lives there knows about, yet never seems to get there. I was amazed at the number of people in Arizona that have never seen the Grand Canyon. It seems that if it's near you, you never go. Vacations are meant to get you away from the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">familiar</span>, or if you're like my family, either set off for a destination and get lost or set off and get distracted by something else along the way.<br /><br />So what is the House on the Rock? Just the most amazing example of what can go on in a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">visionary's</span> head if left to their devices and allowed to follow through! This place is amazing! There's so much STUFF that you can't take it all in. I'm linking to the official site to get a better idea of things. This is a self-guided tour type thing. It is not a museum in the normal sense. The creator, Alex Jordan, collected things, and made a home for them on this rock. He created an entire house and incorporated the natural beauty of the area. There are trees growing out of the floor!<br /><br />Far easier to just supply the info than babble:<br /></div><br /><br /><div>During the 1940's, a man named Alex Jordan discovered a 60-foot chimney of rock in the beautiful Wyoming Valley. It was here he decided to build a house on the sandstone formation called Deer Shelter Rock. Jordan built the house as a weekend retreat and never intended it to be a tourist attraction. However, people kept coming to see the architectural wonder they had heard about. Jordan eventually started asking for 50 cent donations. That was only the beginning. The 14-room house is the original structure of what is now a complex of many buildings, exhibits and garden displays.<br /><br />Alex was a collector all his life and enjoyed visiting museums; however, he did not want The House on the Rock to be a museum. He intended it to be much more than that. Though parts of the collections could have easily found their way into museums, The House on the Rock is more of a trip through the wild and fantastic imagination of Alex Jordan than a visit to a dusty, lifeless museum.<br /><br />In December of 1988, Alex sold The House on the Rock to longtime associate Art Donaldson, a collector and a businessman who shared his broad interests. Alex remained at The House on the Rock as Artistic Director until his death on November 6, 1989. Art Donaldson continues to own The House on the Rock and builds on Alex's dream of expanding and entertaining visitors from all over the world. Alex continues to be in his own words, "Present but not voting".<br />(From: http://www.thehouseontherock.com/HOTR_AttractionMain.htm )</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Why did I want to go here? Because I've heard about it for ages! This is one of the attractions my state has to offer that I've never gotten to see out side the 'Discover Wisconsin' programs on PBS that show the same footage year after year. Nothing can compare! In one morning/afternoon (it took us three hours to tour and one of the sections if closed right now even!) I got to see the world's biggest <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">carousal</span> (not a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">single</span> horse head on it), a multitude of pneumatically control instruments so precisely designed to play that it knocks your socks off, the Infinity Room, a free standing hallway that is supported by one very thin cable, a very large squid fighting a whale, and learned a bit more about history. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I have a friend that has been going on about how crazy this guy had to have been to do this. I don't think she sees the full scope of it. There is a fine line between genius and crazy and in my opinion this is genius! This is what a person can do with initiative and drive. This is what can be done if you don't listen to what is supposedly normal. If someone were to try Alex Jordan's vision in today's world it wouldn't happen. Either the person would become discouraged because of everyone telling him/her that they are crazy or some major company would get involved breaking the enchantment. We tend to look down on people who follow their visions. Maybe the reasons is because too few people are willing to follow their own.</div></div>Andrea Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16487763905153177438noreply@blogger.com4