tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44463508538969899392024-03-13T13:21:08.134-07:00Thirteen LeftsReality is an illusion, a very persistent one.
People are not disturbed by the things they see, but the view they take of them.
What you see depends mainly on what you look for.Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-22821622961663502942008-07-15T11:21:00.001-07:002008-07-22T10:37:21.844-07:00i give up.on someone i love. it's time. when the love isn't lost but just changes i still haven't got a grasp on how exactly you let someone "go". i feel like i should just move to a new city unannounced. if it were just me, i probably would.<br /><br />why am i putting this here, i guess the same reason i put anything here. there isn't one. there also were five more detailed paragraphs i have sinced removed.<br /><br />somehow i feel like i should delete the bad, find the good in all this, tuck it away, and carry it with me. moving forward. onward. upward. up up and away ! <--i just love to say that one.<br /><br /> i feel really empty. and the oh so typical... lost. and sad. actually tremendously sad. like physically sick sad. bad sad. that's a first. but most people wouldn't know it. most don't. so i am gonna roll with it, and see how this heartache shit plays out. i should get a notebook or journal and start writing down all these "lessons" in how "time heals"... make it an experiment.<br /><br />and can i say for the record, why is every fucking song on the radio about being in love - or - losing love! it makes a day hard to get through. i should turn the music off for awhile. i promise you this, i will not write a song about it !!<br /><br />and while i am on the subject of relationships. can i just tell you that, i have grown apart from almost every close friend i have. i choose to say "grown apart" because it is less painful then saying by fault or neglect of anyone. i am terrible at keeping relationships with people. i am scared to death of intimacy. vulnerability. i have lost my circle of friends, lost myself a little.<br /><br />i can <strong>be</strong> a great friend. but i have a hard time letting someone be a friend to me.Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-35494254116387077562008-03-24T14:31:00.000-07:002008-03-24T14:33:21.416-07:00whoever said, "money can't buy happiness"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJt96C4upsIO1h9sVVUCc3SewnAy6FTLKwjPDeY3MWlK5NrpV1NhuKxH1klfXsg3tfpQASzmvMbBQJuYWwpISujDqmn4MwD97FtkMC7ln5NcK0K8rkaWJgZ7ybDmDzW7OSfyVsFRvoHkz/s1600-h/nell.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181424232961394098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJt96C4upsIO1h9sVVUCc3SewnAy6FTLKwjPDeY3MWlK5NrpV1NhuKxH1klfXsg3tfpQASzmvMbBQJuYWwpISujDqmn4MwD97FtkMC7ln5NcK0K8rkaWJgZ7ybDmDzW7OSfyVsFRvoHkz/s320/nell.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>was never stuck in a dead-end job.and while it can't buy "happiness" per say, i will indeed tell you what it can "afford" you... oh, hell...what it can "buy" you!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>it can buy personal freedom, the kind where you can afford to pursue passion instead of paycheck! it can buy you an education for learning sake, not just a degree! it can buy you precious time with an impressionable daughter, who thinks mommy has to work too much! it can buy a retirement plan, much needed, so i am not working at burger king in my eighties! it can buy peace of mind! yes, it sure as hell can!</div><div> </div><div>i am in one of those seesaw type moods. could be considered manic, in medical terms. but i am not. clinically. promise.</div><div> </div><div>one of those days, that you just decide you are missing out severely on life. one of those days where you unexplainably decide to never go back to work. one of those days, where the day itself, is so overwhelmingly dumb and routine. one of those days where the idea of doing this every single day for the rest of my life, just won't work. </div><div> </div><div>one of those days that smacks you in the face and screams, "wake up...grow up...get out and on with life! cause you sure are missin' out sista' girl!"</div><div> </div><div>yep. my subconscious thoughts shout at me like nell carter from "gimme a break" yea yea!</div><div> </div><div>i wish i had a nell carter. to kick my ass.</div><div> </div><div>and friends closer. to hug. </div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-76149258866373797562008-01-25T12:06:00.000-08:002008-01-25T13:14:35.086-08:00when you forget your own password<div align="left">you know it's been awhile. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">so I read a single girl in New York's blog today - and - I got a phone call today...both got me thinking. Thinking a lot actually. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I hate talking about boys and relationships, I always have. I don't know why, but it feels like a sign of weakness to me. The whiney single girl, who can't find the "right" guy and her heroic stories about dating in this mad world. There is the side of me that likes to play it off, like "I dont' need no stinkin' man to be happy" which I don't, but I must admit I think about it more and more frequently.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">so today I get a call from an "ex", like as in a "we used to date and have sex for over a year" ex. He was much older than I, not in a sick way, but I have always been one to like older men. The young, hot, crusty haired, frat boy types NEVER did it for me. A-n-y-w-a-y, so the ex calls and it seems initially like he is wanting to see how I am doing, which in the past has usually meant, "I am single momentarily and would like to get laid" or at least that is what I assumed it meant, and for the last four years, I have not seen him, nor had a drink with him, gone to dinner with him, nothing. Let me just say first, he was a very handsome, very successful man...had that tall, dark and mysterious thang' goin on, and when he first approached me I was flattered and intrigued. All around, he was a good guy, decent guy... had a good family, great house, never been married, no kids. Of course he liked to stare at himself in the mirror in his briefs, and was a bit pretentious with his clothes and cars, but...he was thoughtful and kind. He talked every now and then about marriage and kids, not necessarily with me, but we talked about how we both felt and what we both wanted. He was almost ready, I was not. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Today he told me he got married and has a baby on the way. He met her, they dated for a year ( A YEAR?! What's a year....not enough time to find out someones crazy...or...maybe when it's "right" you just know) he took her to Rockefeller Center in NY, got down on his knee and proposed. Now, they are expecting a child.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It hit me like a ton of bricks, I felt like my chest was tightening. It wasn't because I wished it was me, but I did wonder...if that is why he called. Is it that simple, you meet, you mate, and you procreate, you just sort of make that commitment to grow together - YOU JUST DO IT, and hope for the best and make the most out of it? Or does everyone really have that gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, earth-shattering LOVE that I think LOVE should be? Do I expect to much? Did I expect to much? Am I thinking too hard about this right now? </div><p align="left"><br />I am with someone now. Someone I love more than I ever thought I could love someone, besides my daughter, but...but...but... there's always a "but" with me. I am fully aware that I have "intimacy issues" (and I don't mean in the bed) and I am not the type of girl to pursue, push, or make ultimatums. I like my space. And I wonder how long I can keep saying that? Thing is, the guy I am with now knows and appreciates this and loves me still, loves me more than anyone ever has...expresses it more freely then anyone ever has...looks at me like no one else ever has...<br /><br />but I know there's a chance we'll never get "there"...I just KNOW, but I am too scared to let him go, and it will definitely be something I have to do...I will have to be the one to walk away. Why do I think about walking away, is that in itself a sign, or is it my old fears creeping back and ruining another good thing?<br /><br />sometimes I wonder if it is just that I "recognize" love now, and am ready and able to let go more freely, and wonder what I may be missing out on...am I missing out?! I just feel like there is so much out there, and I am not giving myself a chance.<br /><br />Maybe it's just those damn jewelry commercials, where the guy slips the necklace on her neck when she's sleeping - or - in her hand on the snowy car ride home... damn them! </p>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-33715708414158980012007-09-11T09:19:00.000-07:002007-09-12T11:43:08.061-07:00framed and hanging<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC799dgC5uqljXPortGhJQSGYJQ6z3V3lgOWNksrqT2f6VecwOqxj-PPVc1pOPfxGuMdHi87ELBf9ytI6l1SB0yM9lD9V0dBgDKj6A8xDfcgAimb0OpyOVuq34MwVY75H2Ylr0eWEmgsxU/s1600-h/ohyeah.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108986021902462162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC799dgC5uqljXPortGhJQSGYJQ6z3V3lgOWNksrqT2f6VecwOqxj-PPVc1pOPfxGuMdHi87ELBf9ytI6l1SB0yM9lD9V0dBgDKj6A8xDfcgAimb0OpyOVuq34MwVY75H2Ylr0eWEmgsxU/s320/ohyeah.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>so I have become a little less than obsessive about "what to do with my photographs?" I don't <em>need</em> recognition, though it would be flattering. I don't <em>need</em> praise and accolades, though they are humbly welcome. I just get tingly at the idea of someone wanting my photograph<strong> framed and hanging</strong> in their home, office, outhouse, trailer, cabin, etc. I am not delusional and think I could make a living off shooting photography, though I would love to...shoot it for a living, not be delusional, though that may be peaceful at times.</div><br /><div>as a temporary substitute to a real website of my very own and under the intense pressure of trying to decide the "how to's" of managing my own inventory, and/or orders (if they may ever be) I found this great little world, for artists of all types, to have a platform to put their stuff out there...and so I throw it out there...or lightly toss I guess. <a class="header_subadmin" id="ctl00_linkMemberProfile" style="COLOR: #878787" href="http://luckygirllefty.imagekind.com/" target="_blank">http://luckygirllefty.imagekind.com/</a> </div><br /><div>Be kind, please rewind. Oops, kidding. Be kind and visit, no expectations. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><strong>Expect little, be pleasantly surprised. Expect a lot and always be disappointed.</strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-anYr9pz09kxUr7-l09ZHhsiKexaU6gLrCGBCarpstdi0mQUhTjYbRIEW92wp8MCyRloc2QtjO48EP_dPFERH_VSj8uE4qtP0-aOW75AqYNyOrKwW-b4rB8nqlxIxD0-NrhoeY3ScNKJ/s1600-h/casual.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108992060626480370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-anYr9pz09kxUr7-l09ZHhsiKexaU6gLrCGBCarpstdi0mQUhTjYbRIEW92wp8MCyRloc2QtjO48EP_dPFERH_VSj8uE4qtP0-aOW75AqYNyOrKwW-b4rB8nqlxIxD0-NrhoeY3ScNKJ/s320/casual.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtLMbO8DMxfQugR82LrW7_Xs1UjkNFFE4l15x4-a5OBcwfERMnoYvruFzYUccZRIjjcOKFiAReK07i7YyxTOmnUG6F9v0TgXnzbN-mLY5BbGXA6qTy8Dd1W3v7J1GSEIv4j6A93SjsgKR/s1600-h/cherry.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108992060626480354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtLMbO8DMxfQugR82LrW7_Xs1UjkNFFE4l15x4-a5OBcwfERMnoYvruFzYUccZRIjjcOKFiAReK07i7YyxTOmnUG6F9v0TgXnzbN-mLY5BbGXA6qTy8Dd1W3v7J1GSEIv4j6A93SjsgKR/s320/cherry.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></strong></div></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtLMbO8DMxfQugR82LrW7_Xs1UjkNFFE4l15x4-a5OBcwfERMnoYvruFzYUccZRIjjcOKFiAReK07i7YyxTOmnUG6F9v0TgXnzbN-mLY5BbGXA6qTy8Dd1W3v7J1GSEIv4j6A93SjsgKR/s1600-h/cherry.jpg"></a></span></strong></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-27071458197956365852007-01-16T18:24:00.000-08:002007-09-12T11:28:22.490-07:00Mean Girls.Boy oh boy, I must have took about fourteen rights because I almost forgot about this all important blob of space. Maybe I have been pre-occupied with thoughts or eating NON-STOP. No, I didn't just have a bowl of cereal at 8:24pm! Look, I am giving my Elliptical Machine a break tonight, she looked tired.<br /><br />So today, little lovebug of mine found out that girls (more so than any other species) can be cruel. And just for no good reason. It's tough to explain to a nine-year old that I know it hurts but pay them no attention, that she's better than that, and that it will all be forgotten by tomorrow. When really I wanted to say, it will only get worse in Middle School and High School, girls can be downright mean (and I was one of them, long ago) and those two are stupid girls anyway and I never liked them! It is nothing to be concerned about, it's rather silly, but at that age it's only just beginning and the first jab is like a dagger to the heart - OUCH!<br /><br />Afterwards, she felt better. Acknowledged the unreasonable behavior and was preparing Q&A's for tomorrow, should the same subject arise. "Hey Mom, thanks for talking to me, I feel better!"<br />How come I don't... I don't want her to grow up!Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-73838627353240045342006-11-14T16:44:00.000-08:002006-11-14T17:14:25.754-08:00"The Heart Museum"<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/1600/botanical%20gardens%20071.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/320/botanical%20gardens%20071.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><em>"Admission is free, donations are welcome." </em>Is the first line of the poem that made me so PROUD, proud doesn't even seem like a big enough word. The author is nine-years-old, and has more enthusiasm and creativity in her little head, more hope and life in her brown eyes, more compassion and love in her heart, and kindness and peace in her soul than any other PERSON I have had the pleasure and gift of knowing. Oh, and her smile, what a smile!<br /><br />She wrote a poem for an optional creative writing competition, where the 1st and 2nd place winners will be going to a statewide competition in their age level at a state university, where the winner may be published. She came in 2nd place! I couldn't be any happier for her. I knew the talent and ideas were there, but as with any child, it is usually the confidence that takes time to catch up. I hope this gives her that confidence to know it is okay to fail, as long as you try...and when you try, you just may succeed!<br /><br />An excerpt:<br /><br /><em>On the bottom floor, there is all that I have done.<br />Art of the past.<br />People I have known and places I have gone.<br />Memories that make my heart smile.<br />And things I know I should not have done.<br /><br />Here on the main floor is what is today.<br />All of my friends, my school, and things that I know<br />My family, my life, all that is happening now<br />All of it I love.<br /><br />Upstairs is the modern art.<br />My husband, my house, and children are there.<br />They are part of me, what I am going to be<br />It is art that hangs there waiting for me.<br />Things I love now, but have to wait to see.<br /></em><br /><br />Beyond her true pride, her biggest concern - or - first question,<br /><em><strong>"Can I put this on my college application?"</strong></em></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-69838921004425257172006-11-07T09:58:00.000-08:002006-11-07T10:14:19.757-08:00H-O-P-EIf you were to vote NO on Amendment 2 <em>would you be willing to sign an agreement saying you will <strong>not</strong> be allowed ANY access to cures or treatment options that may come from the stem cell research?</em> Would you?<br /><br />It establishes responsible boundaries and guidelines to ensure that stem cell research is conducted ethically and safely. And, it strictly bans any attempt to clone a human being. If people choose to engage in illegal activity, they will. For there will always be those who will find their way around an issue, but I am not willing to put aside HOPE that stem cells could provide cures for many currently incurable or common diseases and injuries for those of us who want good.<br /><br /><strong>This isn’t a political issue! It’s not a partisan issue. This isn’t a science versus religion, a Democrat versus Republican. This is a people issue and that’s why it is so vital.</strong><br /><br /><em>This message is brought to you by Thirteen Lefts, and I approve this message on behalf of the many loved ones I know with MS, and Diabetes.</em><br /><br /><a href="http://www.missouricures.com/settingtherecord.php">http://www.missouricures.com/settingtherecord.php</a>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-67474354099845979342006-11-01T18:42:00.000-08:002006-11-01T19:12:04.873-08:00The Elephant in the Room!<span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I have a friend, who has a daughter, who has a condition, a serious condition. The little one Savanna has been fighting for so long, longer than most of us adults may have had the strength. The condition has progressed, and there is a solution, a liver transplant. The liver transplant is the elephant in the room. Only, this elephant is one we ARE willing to talk about...even more willing to HOPE & PRAY for, and WISH & DREAM that it comes soon, very soon. Savanna is an angel, that has been waiting to spread those wings of hers she keeps folded so patient<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/1600/sav.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/320/sav.jpg" border="0" /></span></a>ly. </span><a href="http://savannaselephant.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;">http://savannaselephant.blogspot.com/</span></a></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">This condition deserves not to be explained any more than it already has, it has had it's time in the light...now it's Savanna and her elephant's time. I know we all have a special place in our hearts for children who are suffering with medical conditions, we always say we would like to do more, and wish we could. LETS !</span></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am working on something creative, and when the time comes to share I would appreciate support. Stay on the look-out, and please keep Savanna and her family in your thoughts & prayers.</span></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-86163250751906311642006-10-26T11:00:00.000-07:002006-10-26T11:07:38.215-07:00Breaking News...?Do we really need the Baseball Commissioner to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">interrupt</span> our evening television schedule to tell us they have "Breaking News" and that the news is... a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">baseball</span> game has been cancelled?! World Series or not, it is <strong>completely</strong> unnecessary. I actually had to listen to him explain to us that, "<em>After long consideration, we have decided to post-pone tonight's game due to R-A-I-N." </em>Yes folks, it's raining...and thus you can't play baseball in the rain. Give me a break<em>!</em>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-76011051770316119792006-10-17T13:58:00.000-07:002006-10-17T18:52:27.460-07:00MIA: Pink and Soft Things.<div align="justify"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/1600/Oldies%20016.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3315/542767438219847/320/Oldies%20016.jpg" border="0" /></a> Why are women so hard on other women? Is it comparable to a pissing contest for men? I have spent many years working in mostly "corporate" settings surrounded by the usual inner office gossip, a habit that should be extinct, but has survived and evolved through the years by the hard work and determination of WOMEN. Obviously it has roots deep in insecurity, and I have to confess I too have been guilty from time to time. I was recently placed in a situation where I work among ALL men, (we're talking 50/1 ratio) and besides the usual generic complaints all women would rightfully have... noises, smells, scratching... amazingly I found out just how simple their world really can be. There are not as many hidden agendas, dancing around issues, and fake smiles to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">maneuver</span> around. They say what they mean, they do what needs to be done, no sugar coating just straight shooting. I have always said, the difference between men and women is obvious to me. Women find a man, analyze every little thing..."Why does he do that? What do you think he meant by this? What is he thinking?" Usually this is followed by them trying to "fix" or "change" or "evolve" these behaviors and actions, thus driving themselves crazy (and him far, far away). Men, on the other hand, are comfortable even brazenly proud of the fact that they just don't get the opposite sex and why we do what we do...and they just don't care. They embrace the differences and make jokes. We fight them and end up in therapy. One thing we do share... the sweet tooth.</div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446350853896989939.post-28743292830840367822006-10-17T11:37:00.000-07:002006-11-02T07:26:01.395-08:00and begin...<div align="justify">So, I have spent about an hour of my on-the-clock work day trying to decide what could possibly be the most important idea, or thought in my head, I want to drop upon any and all who should read this. Who would read this? Will I send out a mass email inviting all my "contacts" to come *see* that I have started my own blog for their viewing pleasure? In all actuality, I have done it for purely selfish reasons. Is that narcissistic? Who do I think I am? Now, if I invite those close to me to read this, what good material will I possibly be able to write about without offending... and then no doubt have to "explain"? Wait, I think I've got it... I will write about people in my life who don't have regular access to a computer and the internet. That would narrow it down to about ONE person, and although her life is surely "blog worthy" it feels wrong to solicit her in that way. I have a good feeling I will warm up and wear down, and before you know it I may be writing about everything from my latest and greatest sex to how I almost poisoned my family with a Pork Roast this past Sunday. In all honesty, truth be known, I just want to write. I also have a tendency to be quite emotional and opinionated, but can promise I will always be open and willing to see both sides of an issue. Wait, I am not running for any office...these are just my harmless thoughts put into words. </div><div align="justify"><br /><em>"As far as possible, and without surrender, be on good terms with ALL persons. Speak the truth quietly and clearly; listen to others, even the dull and ignorant, they too have their story."</em> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801946992477442161noreply@blogger.com1