For some time now, crop circles have been popping up all over the world. The US, Russia, China, Africa. It seems there isn't a place on Earth that is off limits to the sudden and generally unexplained appearences of these strange, and at times elaborate, formations.
In the popular movie Signs, starring Mel Gibson and Joaquin Pheonix, the formations were a precursor to an alien invasion. So far the realities of this planet have failed to witness, or at the very elast confirm, such an act. So far, we only have the formations.
There are numerous explanations for these formations. Aliens, weather, pranks. Yet as a civilization, we have yet to come to a definite conclusion, one that everyone agrees upon. There is ample evidence for all theories, depending of course on what you accept as evidence. The internet is filled with testimonies and witnesses, experts in every field imaginable, all claiming the same thing. "Our theory was the one that was right." All these witnesses experts and groups speak in a past tense form, as if the issue is settled simply because they use that tense.
I am sure most of you in the general public are rather tired of hearing about them. With the internet making communication almost instant, and with no filtering of the information put on it, it's easy to get lost along the multitude of trails that one could follow trying to determine what's real and what's not. It's just not worth the time. There is too much garbage to sift through. We have jobs. We have responsabilities that require more than 15 minutes of our days. We, the general public, cannot spend 14 hours a day researching the subject, even if we are fascinated by it. I think it is because of this that most of us are tired of the ideas presented when dealing with crop circles. We simply no longer care if they are real or not.
I used to wonder. At least, I did until I saw one with my own eyes. Now right up front I am going to tell you that I did not witness it happen. The cause of the formation is purely speculation. I only saw the results, as do most who witness such things. I only saw the completed circle. I was walking to work early morning, approximately around 5:00 AM. My usual path cut across an emopty field. It was within this field that I saw the circle.
Before I go further, I would like to add some particulars about this field. It wasn't one of those big fields like you see in the movies. It was just an empty lot, nestled between a large grcery store and a very well known car dealership, no more than 65-75 yards square give or take. To the front of this field was the highway, to the back was the street on which my home rested. There were probably 8 to a dozen houses that could hit the field with a thrown rock from their front steps. This was not some secluded farm, it was an empty lot in the middle of a city neighborhood.
It was overgrown with gras and weeds, standing close to three feet in height. It came to my waist. I was walking along the outside of the field, next to the dealership, when I saw it, about 2 feet in from the egde.
I did say that I no longer wonder about the original of crop circles. But this isn't because I know the answer to their riddle. I suppose you could say it's the exact opposite. I beleive that no one does. I believe the answer to the riddle goes beyond anything I can research. To expand, what I mean is that since I did not witness the actual forming of the circle, all I can really do is guess. Any research I can do is limited to other reports of crop circles, who also did not witness them happening. basically, I can look at the exact same information millions of others have already looked at. All these reports, and all this informtion, has led to the multitude of existing theories concerning the origins of these formations, which tells me none of it is conclusive.
Couple that with what I personally witnessed, and I feel none of these theories are even close to being right. Or if they are right, they are not right in the way they think. Let me exlain.
The circle I saw was different than anything I had read or heard about. Because of this difference I can rule out some possible causes for its creation.
This circle was not caused by a baord strapped to a person's feet, as many will claim before even listening to what I have to say. They will ask how can I possibly be certain it was not made from boards strapped to someone's feet? I have two reasons for knowing this.
One) there were no footprints leading into the circle. I know, you're saying 'Wait a minute. How can you be so sure there were no footprints when the field was around 200
feet square? Is it possible I missed some along the way?"
No, it isn't possible that I missed the footprints. The field was that large, that's true, but the circle was not. This circle was no larger than a child's snow sled. That's right, it was only 3 feet across. It was a miniature crop circle. I could see the entire circumference of the circle as easily as I can see my own two feet, my gut withstanding. There were no footprints leading into it through the grass and weeds.
So now you say "wait a minute. You claimed it was maybe only 2 feet from the edge of the field. WOuldn't it be possible for someone to simply straddle the grass, thus leaving no footprints behind?"
No, it was not possible for someone to straddle the grass or 'leap' into the field so as to not leave any footprints. The reason I know this is the second reason I know it was not made from someone's feet. The grass stood approximately 3 feet high. The circle was only maybe 12 inches deep, meaning the bottom 2 feet of each and every blade of grass still stood perfectly erect, straight up, undisturbed. Also, the blades of this grass were not cut, but folded, and they all lay in the same direction, creating a smooth spiral pattern.
I don't know too many people light enough to leap upon grass and not have it fold to the ground beneath them, do you? Try as I might, I cannot think of a way to trample only the top part of a blade of grass.
The circle I saw was maybe 3 feet in diameter. The blades were not cut. Nor were the full blades folded but only the top 12 inches. There was no disturbance to the grass around the circle, which means whatever caused it was suspended from above.
What exactly that was, I don't know. Could it have been man-made? Sure. Could it have been made by something other than man? Sure. For the time being, I have not heard or read any theory about crop circles that is even remotely satifactory in explaining what I saw with my own eyes.
My miniature crop circle.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Dentist Trip
Yay, it was fabulous. The chitlins both insisted they had good last days of school, and when we went to the dentist, they were perfect angels. Caleb started to get a little antsie towards the very end, but not so much anyone other than his mother and I would really notice. They were quiet, held their mouths open wide, sat still...it was great. We were so proud of them. It was pretty funny though when Mitzi kept trying to talk to them with that jaw spreader thingy still in. It was like she didn't realize all we could hear was a child's rendition of the Charlie Brown teacher. Plus, the dentist insisted that it could not possibly have been their first trip. Not a single cavity, absolutely nothing wrong.
Carrie informed me that she was very strict about brushing their teeth their whole lives. Even when they were babies, she would wipe their gums with a soft cloth. As soon as she saw their first tooth, out came a soft brush. I find it adorable how she takes care of them. She's a mom, and a good one at that.
Carrie informed me that she was very strict about brushing their teeth their whole lives. Even when they were babies, she would wipe their gums with a soft cloth. As soon as she saw their first tooth, out came a soft brush. I find it adorable how she takes care of them. She's a mom, and a good one at that.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Good and bad news.
Okay, we started with a simple plan. One cat. That was all. Perhaps a pupy down the road, but for now... 1 cat. So we need to find a cat. Preferably a small kitten, so we can all get to know one another. We find one, except, well, it has a sister. Yep. You can't break up a family, especially when they are that young. So now we have two cats. 2. Not 1. 2. No biggie. Meet Xiaer and Lina.
Okay, so here we are with 2 cats. It's summer time. It's hot. Our windows are open. Oh wait. What's that streaking across our kitchen floor? Oh look. Another cat. A stray. Sneaking in through our bedroom window because we have food out for our cats. Thin thing, isn't it? Poor kitty. Yep. 3 cats. Come on in, Meow Meow.
Hmm, summer is gone. Snow is everywhere. Honey? Do you hear that? It sounds like...it's coming from under the house. Oh my, there's a kity stuck under there. Must have gotten under when we were repairnig a burst pipe. It's been closed up for almost 2 weeks now. poor thing. We need to let it out and feed it. Oh loko, it can't even put it's paws down they hurt so bad. Poor kitty. Yep. 4 cats. Hi Princess, meet the family.
Princess is missing? Where is she? It's been a week. I hope she is okay. Oh there she is. Oh dear, she has been in an accident. Both ears are cut off half way down. Her tail is about 2 inches shorter, and her right eye is...not good. Poor baby. She can barely walk, and she whimpers in her sleep. poor baby. We're glad you're home. We'l take care of you. Just rest for now.
Eh? What's that? Meow Meow's pregnant? No, can't be. Yep. 4 cats, 3 kittens. We can't keep these kittens. But look at Doodles, he is so cute and lovey. Let's keep just him. Yep. 5 cats. Howdy Doodles.
What's that again? Meow Meow AND Princess are pregnant? Impossible. WHAT!? 9 kittens from meow Meow, plus another 4 from Princess? Let me think, that makes the total what? 18, right? Oh no, two passed away. {:O( 5 cats, 11 kittens.
Oh no. One of the kittens was running outside just as the door was slammed shut. There was no pain, i promise. Yes I was with her. I comforted her and pet her really soft. It didn't last long. No pain. I promise. 5 cats. 10 kittens. Mitzi saw her get hit with the door. She went in her room. I buried the kitty, and she asked me to show her where. We talked a little about Heaven, and how we will miss her.
Okay, so here we are with 2 cats. It's summer time. It's hot. Our windows are open. Oh wait. What's that streaking across our kitchen floor? Oh look. Another cat. A stray. Sneaking in through our bedroom window because we have food out for our cats. Thin thing, isn't it? Poor kitty. Yep. 3 cats. Come on in, Meow Meow.
Hmm, summer is gone. Snow is everywhere. Honey? Do you hear that? It sounds like...it's coming from under the house. Oh my, there's a kity stuck under there. Must have gotten under when we were repairnig a burst pipe. It's been closed up for almost 2 weeks now. poor thing. We need to let it out and feed it. Oh loko, it can't even put it's paws down they hurt so bad. Poor kitty. Yep. 4 cats. Hi Princess, meet the family.
Princess is missing? Where is she? It's been a week. I hope she is okay. Oh there she is. Oh dear, she has been in an accident. Both ears are cut off half way down. Her tail is about 2 inches shorter, and her right eye is...not good. Poor baby. She can barely walk, and she whimpers in her sleep. poor baby. We're glad you're home. We'l take care of you. Just rest for now.
Eh? What's that? Meow Meow's pregnant? No, can't be. Yep. 4 cats, 3 kittens. We can't keep these kittens. But look at Doodles, he is so cute and lovey. Let's keep just him. Yep. 5 cats. Howdy Doodles.
What's that again? Meow Meow AND Princess are pregnant? Impossible. WHAT!? 9 kittens from meow Meow, plus another 4 from Princess? Let me think, that makes the total what? 18, right? Oh no, two passed away. {:O( 5 cats, 11 kittens.
Oh no. One of the kittens was running outside just as the door was slammed shut. There was no pain, i promise. Yes I was with her. I comforted her and pet her really soft. It didn't last long. No pain. I promise. 5 cats. 10 kittens. Mitzi saw her get hit with the door. She went in her room. I buried the kitty, and she asked me to show her where. We talked a little about Heaven, and how we will miss her.
School's Last Day
The house is cold. It's the beginning of June, and the house is cold. It's early morning, and the fans and air conditioners are all running. My love is ill, she has been for a couple days. She insists that she is burning up and that the house needs to be cooler. I am the opposite, I think it should be a little warmer. I also am the man, so I have little to no say in the matter.
She is going to stay in bed. I turned the alarm off and made sure she was still producing her cute little woman snores. She was. I snuck out of the room and started to get things ready for the day.
It's the last day of school for the kids. Yay summer vacation. We will see how their day goes. They get out early, just a little over half a day. Hopefully it goes great, because after they get home, we have to take both to the dentist for a check up. That may or may not be very fun for them.
As I mix up the pancakes, I remember the last visit to the doctor. There were needles. Caleb, the 10 year old, had to have blood sample taken. Carrie told me all the horror stories of previous visits when they had to take blood. Screaming...lots of screaming. Because of his autism, he cannot simply say his thoughts, but he can scream when he is hurt, and apparently it hurt him quite a bit. The tests were necessary though, and she told me how she had to hold him down while they took the sample. I am glad I wasn't there, I don't think I could have handled it. She's a lot stronger than I am.
I am working really hard to not burn the pancakes because I have acquired a reputation for burning things I try to cook. I don't deserve it, I think. Everyone burns something every now and then, it's only nature. In all honestly though, I have burnt spaghetti, during the boiling phase. I'm not joking.
So I pay extra attention now, and I recall my fears as we went last time to the doctor and they informed us they needed to take blood. I almost cried during that visit. Luckily I was able to keep the eyes from getting too moist in front of everyone. He didn't scream. In fact, he didn't really complain at all.
He sat perfectly still, watching them get his hand ready, watching them get the needle ready. He didn't tense up, which we were all afraid he would do. He just watched. The first attempt at hitting a vein failed.
So did the second attempt. Even though they wiggled the needle around under his skin and pushed and pulled and tried to work it in. Through it all he never made a sound. Standing there watching them move this needle around in the back of his little hand, we knew it had to hurt tremendously. They weren't just moving it a little, but a lot. Back and forth, back and forth, over and over. They just couldn't get it in.
Carrie and I kept looking at each other, knowing he was in pain but not saying a word about it. We had asked him to be brave, but this was ridiculous. He never even winced. They called in someone else for a third attempt. It was then he responded to it all.
He looked up and tears were running down his perfectly stoic little face and he said “One more time” in a small little voice that was filled with pain and a lot of fear. They got it in that time, finished up, and we left. He cried in the car all the way home. I still tear up remembering it.
Carrie told me a couple stories about doctor trips of the past. Some were okay, some not. I have seen them both 'freak out' over the smallest things. But I have also seen them both handle some very difficult situations with nothing less than an admirable level of maturity I cannot even begin to put into words. They're only 10 and 8, and sometimes they're more grown up than the adults they know.
I took a second away from the pancakes and woke them up. It's time to get ready for school. Caleb, or Boo as he is sometimes called rolls onto the floor from his bed. It's his usual routine. Roll from the bed to the floor, lay for a bit, then get up. Sometimes he will crawl out to the couch but this morning it is just the roll.
Sis, who is 8, is already awake. The girl doesn't sleep much. She's watching another Spongebob Squarepants dvd. I say another which is a lie, because it's the same one she (and therefore everyone else in the house) has watched 100 times already. What can I say, she likes SB. I tell her it's time to get dressed and rush back to the pancakes.
They're fine. I finish them up and make sure the kids are getting up. They are.
Boozie asks for breakfast of course. Sis doesn't sleep, Boo doesn't stop eating, it's the nature of the world. In case you're wondering, Boozie is also Caleb. Apparently when he was born, mom and dad couldn't decide on a name. They chose Caleb for the birth certificate, but he goes by Manny, Boo, Boozie, Boozie Bear, Poo, Pooh Bear, Schnoo, Shnuggie. I could continue but I refuse.
I get them fed and dressed, brushed and cleaned, and the bus shows up early. It's okay, they were ready. Off to school they go for a half day, then to the dentist. I hope their day goes good. I will know in four hours.
She is going to stay in bed. I turned the alarm off and made sure she was still producing her cute little woman snores. She was. I snuck out of the room and started to get things ready for the day.
It's the last day of school for the kids. Yay summer vacation. We will see how their day goes. They get out early, just a little over half a day. Hopefully it goes great, because after they get home, we have to take both to the dentist for a check up. That may or may not be very fun for them.
As I mix up the pancakes, I remember the last visit to the doctor. There were needles. Caleb, the 10 year old, had to have blood sample taken. Carrie told me all the horror stories of previous visits when they had to take blood. Screaming...lots of screaming. Because of his autism, he cannot simply say his thoughts, but he can scream when he is hurt, and apparently it hurt him quite a bit. The tests were necessary though, and she told me how she had to hold him down while they took the sample. I am glad I wasn't there, I don't think I could have handled it. She's a lot stronger than I am.
I am working really hard to not burn the pancakes because I have acquired a reputation for burning things I try to cook. I don't deserve it, I think. Everyone burns something every now and then, it's only nature. In all honestly though, I have burnt spaghetti, during the boiling phase. I'm not joking.
So I pay extra attention now, and I recall my fears as we went last time to the doctor and they informed us they needed to take blood. I almost cried during that visit. Luckily I was able to keep the eyes from getting too moist in front of everyone. He didn't scream. In fact, he didn't really complain at all.
He sat perfectly still, watching them get his hand ready, watching them get the needle ready. He didn't tense up, which we were all afraid he would do. He just watched. The first attempt at hitting a vein failed.
So did the second attempt. Even though they wiggled the needle around under his skin and pushed and pulled and tried to work it in. Through it all he never made a sound. Standing there watching them move this needle around in the back of his little hand, we knew it had to hurt tremendously. They weren't just moving it a little, but a lot. Back and forth, back and forth, over and over. They just couldn't get it in.
Carrie and I kept looking at each other, knowing he was in pain but not saying a word about it. We had asked him to be brave, but this was ridiculous. He never even winced. They called in someone else for a third attempt. It was then he responded to it all.
He looked up and tears were running down his perfectly stoic little face and he said “One more time” in a small little voice that was filled with pain and a lot of fear. They got it in that time, finished up, and we left. He cried in the car all the way home. I still tear up remembering it.
Carrie told me a couple stories about doctor trips of the past. Some were okay, some not. I have seen them both 'freak out' over the smallest things. But I have also seen them both handle some very difficult situations with nothing less than an admirable level of maturity I cannot even begin to put into words. They're only 10 and 8, and sometimes they're more grown up than the adults they know.
I took a second away from the pancakes and woke them up. It's time to get ready for school. Caleb, or Boo as he is sometimes called rolls onto the floor from his bed. It's his usual routine. Roll from the bed to the floor, lay for a bit, then get up. Sometimes he will crawl out to the couch but this morning it is just the roll.
Sis, who is 8, is already awake. The girl doesn't sleep much. She's watching another Spongebob Squarepants dvd. I say another which is a lie, because it's the same one she (and therefore everyone else in the house) has watched 100 times already. What can I say, she likes SB. I tell her it's time to get dressed and rush back to the pancakes.
They're fine. I finish them up and make sure the kids are getting up. They are.
Boozie asks for breakfast of course. Sis doesn't sleep, Boo doesn't stop eating, it's the nature of the world. In case you're wondering, Boozie is also Caleb. Apparently when he was born, mom and dad couldn't decide on a name. They chose Caleb for the birth certificate, but he goes by Manny, Boo, Boozie, Boozie Bear, Poo, Pooh Bear, Schnoo, Shnuggie. I could continue but I refuse.
I get them fed and dressed, brushed and cleaned, and the bus shows up early. It's okay, they were ready. Off to school they go for a half day, then to the dentist. I hope their day goes good. I will know in four hours.
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Life I love Part III
Originally, I didn't do so well at this new company. The first two weeks, for whatever reason, I just couldn't get a grasp on things. Sure, when you're starting out on a new job, it's going to take a while to get the hang of things. But with this company, you didn't get a long time to adjust. You fit in, or you didn't. Their turn over rate was exceedingly high for the area, and over the next couple of years I personally saw more than 100 people come and go throughout the plant. In a company that only had 325 or so employees, that's a high percentage.
Anyways, it was bad enough for me that I think they were going to let me go, but I knew someone who worked there and I believe, though it was never verified, that she suggested they let me try my hand in another shop. I was transferred, and did exceedingly well. Within four months, I was a machine operator and I was the one handling the schedule, deciding basically who and when to put on what project according to customer demands. I had no official authority of course, but over the next couple of years, i was the one running the line. People came to me with thier problems, I had to solve production issues, I ran the line according to the schedule, I was the one who was held accountable for things if they went wrong.
This company went through many changes in regards to custmer demands. As a result, at times they woudl require special shifts to operate the machine, in order to meet demand. I volunteered for weekend shift when it was needed, I volunteered for the 12 hours shifts whent they were needed, and I always did overtime. It was during my work on that line that I met the person who was to be my first serious relationship. We dated for a year exactly, starting on Valentine's day, ending the next year same day. It was ok, we parted on good terms, both realizing things just weren't what we were looking for.
Over the years, I met people, friends, girlfriends. Eventually I applied for and became a Lead, which was exactly what I had already been doing for the last five-six years but without the actual title. I had a friend at the time who had needed a place to stay, so soon enough I had a room-mate.
While I was the Lead on Swing Shift, the company decied they were going to implement Lean philosophies into the company. It was all new to all of us, so we had to wing it as we went. I ran the only line on Swing shift in our department. Day shift had 7 and we had one. There was little to no communication or support from Day shift managers or engineers, so we pretty much had to figure things out the best we could. We made imporvement over the builds we were doing. The largest improvement coming from one build in which we reduced the process time by over 55% and reduced required assemblers by 45%. What took 5 days and 7 people now took 3 days and 4 people. It was quite an improvement, Unfortunately, it was also an improvement completely overlooked and down played by the day shift manager, and my line never received the proper recognition they deserved.
Eventually, the need for the Swing shift ended, and I went to days. Upon going to days, I realized they had made almost zero improvements to the build lines. All the time we had been told we were so far behind, and we were the only ones who had followed through to even the smallest degree. Many of the improvements we had made were lost so the builds could once again be filtered into dayshift build lines without disturbing too many of their processes.
I had to wait for an opening to be a Lead again. When it came, I took it. During my last stint as a Lead, I apparently became too involved with my line. I began noticing how some of the employees were being treated poorly by management (one in particular) through blatant lies, insults, and various degradations. I began trying to facilitate some changes, trying to smooth over the field and bring some of these issues to upper management's awareness.
During this time, I met a wonderful lady. The most wonderful anyone could ever hope to find. She was everything; funny, pretty, cute, gorgeous, smart, everything that a person truly wants but is afraid they will never find. I was lucky, and she found me. She had two children, both with autism. We grew closer and closer, and soon she was my best friend. Soon after that, she was much, much more to me.
My company had decided that it was best to ignore the proven lies told about it's employees by its management and members of its engineering crew. These employees then received some of the worst treatment I have ever witnessed in my years working, and it became too much. I could not help, and I would not sit idly by and watch these people be treated that way. Then something happened to me directly as a retaliation from my manager for pointing out the lies being told, so I quit.
My wonderful girfriend is the most supportive woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She held me up, and backed me up. If it hadn't been for her, I am sure I would have been sitting in a chair right now, assembling parts for that same company, my head bent low, my drive and care forced from me from the very company I worked for. I would have been a shell, nothing more. I know this from experience. I know what I am like. She saved me from this, from myself.
I now live with her and her two amazing children. Everyday they remind me how lucky I am to have them in my life. Everyday I thank God for them, and I pray I never lose them. In what will follow this introduction, The Life I love Parts I, II, and III, I will endeaver to protray the reasons I find myself now living such a wonderful, fullfilled life, and why I love it with all my heart and soul.
Anyways, it was bad enough for me that I think they were going to let me go, but I knew someone who worked there and I believe, though it was never verified, that she suggested they let me try my hand in another shop. I was transferred, and did exceedingly well. Within four months, I was a machine operator and I was the one handling the schedule, deciding basically who and when to put on what project according to customer demands. I had no official authority of course, but over the next couple of years, i was the one running the line. People came to me with thier problems, I had to solve production issues, I ran the line according to the schedule, I was the one who was held accountable for things if they went wrong.
This company went through many changes in regards to custmer demands. As a result, at times they woudl require special shifts to operate the machine, in order to meet demand. I volunteered for weekend shift when it was needed, I volunteered for the 12 hours shifts whent they were needed, and I always did overtime. It was during my work on that line that I met the person who was to be my first serious relationship. We dated for a year exactly, starting on Valentine's day, ending the next year same day. It was ok, we parted on good terms, both realizing things just weren't what we were looking for.
Over the years, I met people, friends, girlfriends. Eventually I applied for and became a Lead, which was exactly what I had already been doing for the last five-six years but without the actual title. I had a friend at the time who had needed a place to stay, so soon enough I had a room-mate.
While I was the Lead on Swing Shift, the company decied they were going to implement Lean philosophies into the company. It was all new to all of us, so we had to wing it as we went. I ran the only line on Swing shift in our department. Day shift had 7 and we had one. There was little to no communication or support from Day shift managers or engineers, so we pretty much had to figure things out the best we could. We made imporvement over the builds we were doing. The largest improvement coming from one build in which we reduced the process time by over 55% and reduced required assemblers by 45%. What took 5 days and 7 people now took 3 days and 4 people. It was quite an improvement, Unfortunately, it was also an improvement completely overlooked and down played by the day shift manager, and my line never received the proper recognition they deserved.
Eventually, the need for the Swing shift ended, and I went to days. Upon going to days, I realized they had made almost zero improvements to the build lines. All the time we had been told we were so far behind, and we were the only ones who had followed through to even the smallest degree. Many of the improvements we had made were lost so the builds could once again be filtered into dayshift build lines without disturbing too many of their processes.
I had to wait for an opening to be a Lead again. When it came, I took it. During my last stint as a Lead, I apparently became too involved with my line. I began noticing how some of the employees were being treated poorly by management (one in particular) through blatant lies, insults, and various degradations. I began trying to facilitate some changes, trying to smooth over the field and bring some of these issues to upper management's awareness.
During this time, I met a wonderful lady. The most wonderful anyone could ever hope to find. She was everything; funny, pretty, cute, gorgeous, smart, everything that a person truly wants but is afraid they will never find. I was lucky, and she found me. She had two children, both with autism. We grew closer and closer, and soon she was my best friend. Soon after that, she was much, much more to me.
My company had decided that it was best to ignore the proven lies told about it's employees by its management and members of its engineering crew. These employees then received some of the worst treatment I have ever witnessed in my years working, and it became too much. I could not help, and I would not sit idly by and watch these people be treated that way. Then something happened to me directly as a retaliation from my manager for pointing out the lies being told, so I quit.
My wonderful girfriend is the most supportive woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She held me up, and backed me up. If it hadn't been for her, I am sure I would have been sitting in a chair right now, assembling parts for that same company, my head bent low, my drive and care forced from me from the very company I worked for. I would have been a shell, nothing more. I know this from experience. I know what I am like. She saved me from this, from myself.
I now live with her and her two amazing children. Everyday they remind me how lucky I am to have them in my life. Everyday I thank God for them, and I pray I never lose them. In what will follow this introduction, The Life I love Parts I, II, and III, I will endeaver to protray the reasons I find myself now living such a wonderful, fullfilled life, and why I love it with all my heart and soul.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Life I Love Part II
I moved to southern Arizona when I was in the 6th grade. I spent the next 9-10 years there, give or take. I suppose that means you could say that's where I grew up. I went through the oh-so-wonderful 'P' stage of youthful life, had my first touch of love, and a lot of the other things that make up a person's unique life history.
My first crush was Jennifer. Jr. High School. I still remember pretty well. She was the girl in school who does everything, sports, clubs, groups. Everyone knew who she was. Of course she was also one of the smartest of course. She was popular, but not in the popular girl kind of way, it was just that every knew who she was because she did so many things. Naturally I never actually talked to her. Too shy, too unsure, too embarassed. Usual reasons. She knew I liked her though. Looking back I am sure she would have gone out with me if I had asked. Don't know if she would have liked me, but she would have given me an honest chance, of that I am certain. She was a nice person.
But I also remember, rather fondly, something my sister said at a function at the school one time. I can't recall what the function was, maybe it was graduation. But my family was there. My sister and I have always been close, at least to me we have. I naturally told her who I liked. When they announced Jennifer's name, they followed it up with all the awards and clubs and achievements she had gotten over the short two years.
"No way," my sister said plainly, smiling at me. She didn't mean it in a bad way. She just knew her brother, and at the time, the girl was out of my league, plain and simple. I loved my sister for being up front and honest with me.
My first love (not my first girlfriend mind you) wasn't until High School, and did not go so well. It was a typical story. Boy meets boy (wait until the story is finished before forming any thoughts), boys become best friends, second boy meets girl, they date, he leaves her, first boy is asked why by girl, first boy befriends her (yes, only befriends), boy falls in love, girl goes back to second boy and first boy is crushed, second boy gets her pregant and leaves her, first boy tries to be her friend, tries to help her raise her baby a little, nothing ever happens between the two.
See? Typical.
I had dropped out of High School while in 11th grade. They weren't teaching me anything I didn't already know. Unfortunately, that outlook was only mostly correct. They weren't teaching me anything new, but I didn't graduate. Now I know I should have, even if I didn't learn more. When I dropped out, I joined a training program that taught people trades for free. I started learning a bit about computers, then went to construction instead. Once I completed that, I worked with the instructor for a couple months as his assistant. It was all right, but it wasn't meant to be.
I then found a job at Jack in the Box and stayed there for about 6 months, working through the fryer, the grill, counter and window. I was going to consider management training.
But when I was 22, my exceptionally wonderful mother moved to northern Idaho, which pretty much meant I no longer had any ties to Arizona. No family, and all my friends had moved on. It was apparent that it was time to begin the next chapter of my life. So I did.
I had a friend from Arizona who had moved to Colorado who I had been keeping in touch with. At age 23, I moved there and got a job as a maintanence man for a really nice mobile home park. Let me tell you, that was quite a shock, going from southern AZ to Denver, CO. in the middle of winter. I went from sun and sand to snow and ice in a matter of a day. My body almost didn't make it. I stayed there for nine months and gained close to 60 pounds. Insulation I guess.
It was a go-nowhere job. Nice place, nice people, great boss, but for me, it wasn't where I wanted to be. I had family in Idaho, other than just my mother, so I made a few calls and when I was 24 I decided to visit my family in Idaho for Christmas for only 2 weeks.
It was one of the most beautiful places I had been, that I remembered anyways. Tree covered mountains, dark green grass, streams, rivers, lakes. Even the air was sharp and crisp. I have lived here ever since.
I may have grown up physically in AZ, but this is where I feel I have grown up mentally and emotionally. Every place a person lives, everything they do, only leads them to the life they are supposed to live. Everything I had done and experienced was leading to this place and this life. Of course, I didn't recognize that at the time, I was just going through life the way I thought I should.
I found a job almost immediately after deciding to stay, I had no intention of freeloading off my mother and stepfather. It was a production company. I did well, I have always been good with hand-eye coordination, and that was what this was all about. 'Build this and build it fast' was their motto. I could do that quite well. And I stayed with them for the next 11 years.
My first crush was Jennifer. Jr. High School. I still remember pretty well. She was the girl in school who does everything, sports, clubs, groups. Everyone knew who she was. Of course she was also one of the smartest of course. She was popular, but not in the popular girl kind of way, it was just that every knew who she was because she did so many things. Naturally I never actually talked to her. Too shy, too unsure, too embarassed. Usual reasons. She knew I liked her though. Looking back I am sure she would have gone out with me if I had asked. Don't know if she would have liked me, but she would have given me an honest chance, of that I am certain. She was a nice person.
But I also remember, rather fondly, something my sister said at a function at the school one time. I can't recall what the function was, maybe it was graduation. But my family was there. My sister and I have always been close, at least to me we have. I naturally told her who I liked. When they announced Jennifer's name, they followed it up with all the awards and clubs and achievements she had gotten over the short two years.
"No way," my sister said plainly, smiling at me. She didn't mean it in a bad way. She just knew her brother, and at the time, the girl was out of my league, plain and simple. I loved my sister for being up front and honest with me.
My first love (not my first girlfriend mind you) wasn't until High School, and did not go so well. It was a typical story. Boy meets boy (wait until the story is finished before forming any thoughts), boys become best friends, second boy meets girl, they date, he leaves her, first boy is asked why by girl, first boy befriends her (yes, only befriends), boy falls in love, girl goes back to second boy and first boy is crushed, second boy gets her pregant and leaves her, first boy tries to be her friend, tries to help her raise her baby a little, nothing ever happens between the two.
See? Typical.
I had dropped out of High School while in 11th grade. They weren't teaching me anything I didn't already know. Unfortunately, that outlook was only mostly correct. They weren't teaching me anything new, but I didn't graduate. Now I know I should have, even if I didn't learn more. When I dropped out, I joined a training program that taught people trades for free. I started learning a bit about computers, then went to construction instead. Once I completed that, I worked with the instructor for a couple months as his assistant. It was all right, but it wasn't meant to be.
I then found a job at Jack in the Box and stayed there for about 6 months, working through the fryer, the grill, counter and window. I was going to consider management training.
But when I was 22, my exceptionally wonderful mother moved to northern Idaho, which pretty much meant I no longer had any ties to Arizona. No family, and all my friends had moved on. It was apparent that it was time to begin the next chapter of my life. So I did.
I had a friend from Arizona who had moved to Colorado who I had been keeping in touch with. At age 23, I moved there and got a job as a maintanence man for a really nice mobile home park. Let me tell you, that was quite a shock, going from southern AZ to Denver, CO. in the middle of winter. I went from sun and sand to snow and ice in a matter of a day. My body almost didn't make it. I stayed there for nine months and gained close to 60 pounds. Insulation I guess.
It was a go-nowhere job. Nice place, nice people, great boss, but for me, it wasn't where I wanted to be. I had family in Idaho, other than just my mother, so I made a few calls and when I was 24 I decided to visit my family in Idaho for Christmas for only 2 weeks.
It was one of the most beautiful places I had been, that I remembered anyways. Tree covered mountains, dark green grass, streams, rivers, lakes. Even the air was sharp and crisp. I have lived here ever since.
I may have grown up physically in AZ, but this is where I feel I have grown up mentally and emotionally. Every place a person lives, everything they do, only leads them to the life they are supposed to live. Everything I had done and experienced was leading to this place and this life. Of course, I didn't recognize that at the time, I was just going through life the way I thought I should.
I found a job almost immediately after deciding to stay, I had no intention of freeloading off my mother and stepfather. It was a production company. I did well, I have always been good with hand-eye coordination, and that was what this was all about. 'Build this and build it fast' was their motto. I could do that quite well. And I stayed with them for the next 11 years.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Life I Love Part I
Hi. My name is Tim. I am 36 years old and am finally living a life I feel is worth living. I am a pretty avaerge kind of guy, I suppose. Not too tall, not too short. I have been told I am good looking, but I have also been told I am not. I laugh a lot, I love to laugh. During my life, laughter has been the one constant friend I could always count on. Granted, there were times when I had to find it myself, and no one else knew quite what i was laughing about, but I think that's the way it goes sometimes.
I want to give brief history about myself. Unfortunately it has to be brief because in truth I don't remember a whole lot about growing up. My family, mother, father, two older sisters and one older brother (yes I am the baby) moved around a lot when I was young. At least I consider it a lot. My parents found work where they could, which meant we moved. I hear horror stories about children of military parents who have been forced to move 4-5 times, and I chuckle. Oregon, Idaho, Washington, North Carolina, California, Florida, Montana, Arkansas, Arizona...I've held some kind of residence in all these places before I was 16. Some states we lived in more than one town.
I am not complaining. They did what they knew how to do. They raised us the best they could. Sure there were times we were hungry, but I don't think there was ever a time we went without food. Even if it was just bologna and cheese sandwiches. No, I am not complaining, I don't waste my time pretending that it has fractured my delicate mental quality. I love my parents and tehy love me, and life is life.
What I am saying though is that growing up with that seemingly habitual rouine of moving has taken something from me I think most people have. And that is the ability to hang on to certain things. Things, places, even people, more directly friends, became less important to me, since I knew that chances are I wouldn't know them for more than a year or so. I was young. I dind't understand then that that is a way of life anyway. People come and go, and you should cherish the time you have with them, even the ones you don't like. All I knew really was 'I have friends, my firends are gone, I have no friends, I have friends again, my friends are gone again'.
I coped with these changes by moving on. Pushing those thoughts of where I came from from my mind, and only seeing where I was. The problem was that I was a child. 'Moving on' meant something entirely different then the wisened know. It meant leaving behind. This repeated 'leaving behind' left me with an almost inability to recall previous experiences. I can now, quite literally if I attempted to do so, sit down and count the exact number of memories I have before entering the 6th grade. I never lerned how to train and practice long term memories. I had no need. The people I would never see again, the places were on the other side of the country. I had a hard enough time trying to fit in where I was.
The other draw back was that, because I was a kid and emotional, most of the slivers of memeories I have tend to be not of a fun and delightful nature. I naturally enough remember mostly the bad parts. Not because there were so many, but because dealing with hurts and pains and disappointments help us define who we are at young ages. It's called growing up. I have happy memories too. but I would say it's four bad to one good. I would like to make it clear that teh bad are in no way horrendous, just...bad.
I would have to say the worst 'side effect' of it all came when I was in 8th grade. We had lived in the same place for over a year, and I had been going to the same Jr. High school for over a year. It wasn't far away; two blocks over, two blocks down. Can't get easier than that, unless it was only one block. Well, I went to sleep one night,e verything just fine. But when I woke in the morning, I noticed something was wrong. It started out normal enough. I was woke by my mother. I stood and started to get dressed. Halfway through putting my clothes on I realized I had no idea why I was getting dressed. What was I doing? I was putting on my pants, sure, but what came after that? I didn't know. I don't think anyne really noticed what was wrong. It probably just looked like I was having a bad day. Everything seemed foreign to me though. Not my family, but everything else. When I finally stepped outside, I had no idea where I was. I knew I was home, but I dind't know where that home was. I was standing on gravel and I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. School. But where was that? Nothing, absolutely nothing, looked familiar. The houses were all new, the ground was all new, I didn't know north from south, nothing.
I turned around and even the front of my own house looked strange. I had never been there. I walked a little ways, but nothing was familiar. I eventually went back inside, since I dind't know where to go, and was able to convince my mother something was wrong. That I didn't know.
When I did get to school, it was nearly the same thing. I had a very vague impression of the classes. People, friends, seemed new to me. I didn't know my own friends. I didn't know acquaintences from close friends. I didn't know teachers. I didn't know a lot. I don't remember what happened the rest of that day. I think I just went thorugh the motions, trying to pay attention and hoping no one noticed I was a freak of some sort.
That was the worst time. I had to relearn my life. That wasn't fun. Talk about feeling like an outcast. Alone.
I have had a couple episodes like this, only the others were no where near as harsh. I would wake up and the last three days would be gone, or maybe a week or two. It's only happened maybe four times, but it has taught me one thing that i hope I never lose. I am me, no matter how much of the outside world I forget. My heart is my own, it is not dependant on the world around me. My mind is my own, it is not dependant on the world around me.
If you take away the world, who are you? I know the answer to that question now. I don't think many do. That's not to say I like the answer, I am just saying I know it.
I want to give brief history about myself. Unfortunately it has to be brief because in truth I don't remember a whole lot about growing up. My family, mother, father, two older sisters and one older brother (yes I am the baby) moved around a lot when I was young. At least I consider it a lot. My parents found work where they could, which meant we moved. I hear horror stories about children of military parents who have been forced to move 4-5 times, and I chuckle. Oregon, Idaho, Washington, North Carolina, California, Florida, Montana, Arkansas, Arizona...I've held some kind of residence in all these places before I was 16. Some states we lived in more than one town.
I am not complaining. They did what they knew how to do. They raised us the best they could. Sure there were times we were hungry, but I don't think there was ever a time we went without food. Even if it was just bologna and cheese sandwiches. No, I am not complaining, I don't waste my time pretending that it has fractured my delicate mental quality. I love my parents and tehy love me, and life is life.
What I am saying though is that growing up with that seemingly habitual rouine of moving has taken something from me I think most people have. And that is the ability to hang on to certain things. Things, places, even people, more directly friends, became less important to me, since I knew that chances are I wouldn't know them for more than a year or so. I was young. I dind't understand then that that is a way of life anyway. People come and go, and you should cherish the time you have with them, even the ones you don't like. All I knew really was 'I have friends, my firends are gone, I have no friends, I have friends again, my friends are gone again'.
I coped with these changes by moving on. Pushing those thoughts of where I came from from my mind, and only seeing where I was. The problem was that I was a child. 'Moving on' meant something entirely different then the wisened know. It meant leaving behind. This repeated 'leaving behind' left me with an almost inability to recall previous experiences. I can now, quite literally if I attempted to do so, sit down and count the exact number of memories I have before entering the 6th grade. I never lerned how to train and practice long term memories. I had no need. The people I would never see again, the places were on the other side of the country. I had a hard enough time trying to fit in where I was.
The other draw back was that, because I was a kid and emotional, most of the slivers of memeories I have tend to be not of a fun and delightful nature. I naturally enough remember mostly the bad parts. Not because there were so many, but because dealing with hurts and pains and disappointments help us define who we are at young ages. It's called growing up. I have happy memories too. but I would say it's four bad to one good. I would like to make it clear that teh bad are in no way horrendous, just...bad.
I would have to say the worst 'side effect' of it all came when I was in 8th grade. We had lived in the same place for over a year, and I had been going to the same Jr. High school for over a year. It wasn't far away; two blocks over, two blocks down. Can't get easier than that, unless it was only one block. Well, I went to sleep one night,e verything just fine. But when I woke in the morning, I noticed something was wrong. It started out normal enough. I was woke by my mother. I stood and started to get dressed. Halfway through putting my clothes on I realized I had no idea why I was getting dressed. What was I doing? I was putting on my pants, sure, but what came after that? I didn't know. I don't think anyne really noticed what was wrong. It probably just looked like I was having a bad day. Everything seemed foreign to me though. Not my family, but everything else. When I finally stepped outside, I had no idea where I was. I knew I was home, but I dind't know where that home was. I was standing on gravel and I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. School. But where was that? Nothing, absolutely nothing, looked familiar. The houses were all new, the ground was all new, I didn't know north from south, nothing.
I turned around and even the front of my own house looked strange. I had never been there. I walked a little ways, but nothing was familiar. I eventually went back inside, since I dind't know where to go, and was able to convince my mother something was wrong. That I didn't know.
When I did get to school, it was nearly the same thing. I had a very vague impression of the classes. People, friends, seemed new to me. I didn't know my own friends. I didn't know acquaintences from close friends. I didn't know teachers. I didn't know a lot. I don't remember what happened the rest of that day. I think I just went thorugh the motions, trying to pay attention and hoping no one noticed I was a freak of some sort.
That was the worst time. I had to relearn my life. That wasn't fun. Talk about feeling like an outcast. Alone.
I have had a couple episodes like this, only the others were no where near as harsh. I would wake up and the last three days would be gone, or maybe a week or two. It's only happened maybe four times, but it has taught me one thing that i hope I never lose. I am me, no matter how much of the outside world I forget. My heart is my own, it is not dependant on the world around me. My mind is my own, it is not dependant on the world around me.
If you take away the world, who are you? I know the answer to that question now. I don't think many do. That's not to say I like the answer, I am just saying I know it.
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