tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36984262984051490842024-02-19T06:53:25.470-08:00The Smile BehindJust me, with my thoughts.
Sometimes more, sometimes less.
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-42491789514567064072019-06-26T17:20:00.000-07:002019-06-26T17:20:00.049-07:00A Cry for a Word<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I wish there was a word we could speak that dealt sadness a crippling blow.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Something we could tell those we love, when they are hurting, that would take the pain away.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">If only our vocabulary contained a phrase with the power to wipe away the tears, and to comfort the broken heart.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">If only such a word existed.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Alas, our speech is constrained by our own verbal limits.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">All we can do is show that we care, and let God do the rest.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Keep on my friend.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">We may not be able to take away the hurt... but we can always be there for you.</span></div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-36168818792845702932017-04-15T19:42:00.000-07:002017-04-15T19:42:30.733-07:00A Talk with MeWhat if you met an older version of yourself? What would that conversation look like?<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<o:p>========== </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
Appropriately dubbed ‘The Windy City’, movement seems
to never cease; whether it is the ever-shifting mass of people, or the brisk
windswept chill that seems to slow time itself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It’s September. Fall has just begun its takeover. Trees are fading from
their sharp greens; to dull reds, and brilliant yellows. The sun casts it’s
golden orange beams across the glowing city earlier and earlier, as nightfall
embraces the ever-darkening skyline.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
On an evening such like this, I walk into a small
pizza shop, that came highly recommended by a friend. An usher greets me
cheerfully, and leads me to a small booth. Accepting a proffered menu, I begin
my browsing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
“What is that?!” Two hands suddenly wrap my shoulders,
close to the neckline with a loud <i>‘WHACK!’</i>
I turn slightly, to see a man, in his early 40’s – 43 is my guess. There is
something recognizable about him… the mannerisms, the smile, the painful way he
is massaging my tense shoulder muscles…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
“Excuse me, I’m sorry… Do I know you sir?” I ask
sharply. This strange man has interrupted a very important choice of mine – I
am not willing to be nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t…”</i>
he winks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That wink! I know
that wink! That’s something I… wait… Dinner forgotten for the time being, and I
offer my hand. “Jerry.” <i>“Ha! Me too!”</i>
is the response. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Narrowing my eyes, I begin mentally sizing this man up. I notice a
small glimmer in his eyes - framed with smiling-lines - this guy is no stranger
to spreading cheer through them. Blond hair that had been retreating from his
forehead for a small while, seems to all gather at the back of his head,
forming a veritable haystack of a cowlick. He is wearing a brown and
cream-white checkered flannel shirt, and deep blue jeans. Beat-up and dusty
black tennis shoes tell many tails of outdoor adventures. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
His massive hands
catch my eyes. ‘<u>This guy could have been a very successful pianist</u>’ I
think to myself. Black edges around the fingernails… is that... tire dust?
Fingers slightly bent, with the beginnings of, what looks like, arthritis. He
cracks his left thumb, three times. Each time the knuckle pops, less than the
time prior.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then it clicks. (I
laugh at the pun my brain just made… because knuckle cracking sounds like a…
never-mind. Back to the now.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Jerry has been
looking me in the eyes this entire time. Obvious sentiment has replaced the
cheerful glimmer in his eyes – almost sadness seems to be washing over him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“May I… may I take a seat?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I say ‘<b>NO!</b>’ in my head, but
my voice doesn’t obey.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sure. I guess so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Ah! Thanks! This place has the
best deep-dish in America. Trust me”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Why what?”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why should I trust you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Skepticism is an easy fallback for me. It isn’t possible for this man
sitting across from me, to be me. Yet, everything, down to the quad-blink (A
nervous tic). This isn’t real – But… but it is. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Alright. Here’s the deal”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I snap out of my denial.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Say wha?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Here’s the thing Jerry… Nah… I’m
gonna call you Jeremiah… Here’s the thing Jeremiah. I know what you’re
thinking. Ha! My – your face is an easy one to read.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“YOUR face is an easy one to read!” I blurt subconsciously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“That’s the idea, yeah. Your
face, my face. It’s the same face, separated by a few decades.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I shake my head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Okay, for the sake of argument… Wait. No. This is literally
impossible. You can’t be me. <b>I</b> am
me…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“Observant” </i>Jerry smiles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I blink. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Yeah. Anyways, just forget about
the impossibilities, because here I am. An older, wiser, more handsome… you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I blink again. I want so bad to give my best sarcastic answer. At the
same time, I really want to know this guy’s story… I’m torn. So, I decide to
stay quiet… for now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Okay, look. I remembered coming
to this place twenty-something years ago - by-the-way, the Sausage Deep Dish is
the best – ah, yeah, anyway… There’s some stuff I really need to tell you.
Like, important things… knew you’d be here.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Okay… fine. Whatcha got? What amazing things do I do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“I’m not going to tell you what
happens to me- you… I want that all to be experienced firsthand, without the
distraction of knowing it. Nah… That’s – that’s not why I’m here.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well? Get to the point! Why exactly ARE you here?!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“That. THAT is why I’m here.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“This impatience, the arrogance,
the annoyance… I suppose you could say I’m a warning. A yellow light: You’ve
gotta decide if you have to speed up, or slow down. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I don’t understand… A warning?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Listen up. You need to learn a
little patience. Trust me.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You keep saying ‘trust me’… I really don’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Jerry lets out a near-laugh, then locks eyes with mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“Jeremiah. Look.
You’re quickly moving down a path… a path you don’t want to travel on. I’ve
been there. THIS is where it led me. Your impatience causes you heartbreak. The
arrogance causes your friends heartbreak. The annoyance causes familial
heartbreak. All of this comes back around. You will TRY to be unaffected by all
that occurs… but all that happens is numbness. Boxing yourself in, you break
away from everything, and everyone, that cares for you. This box becomes your
home, Jeremiah. A home that is full of hurt, loneliness, and self-destruction.
I don’t want this to happen. I WANT to change who I… who you become. There is
still hope for you!”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I look intently on… expecting more. Jerry is looking down at the table.
I see a single tear stain, run down his left cheek. The energy that had been
emulating from this man earlier, is clearly drained. His shoulders sag a
little, and he appears much more… human. I feel for this man. The foresight
strikes me hard. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I drop my head in pondering.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“A yellow light… It’s my choice to speed up, or slow down. But whatever I choose, I have to own that -
take responsibility for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I look up again. The menu is still in my hands. A young gentleman,
dressed in black and deep red is standing to my right, awaiting my order.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Shaking my head slightly, I notice something quite odd.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The once occupied chair across from me, is empty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Your order sir?” The impatient waiter queries. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hold your horses just a sec... Was there another man, sitting there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The waiter gives me a glance, then turns sharply to leave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Wait, hold on! I’m being serious… Was there an older man, early
forties, sitting across from me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No sir. There was not. What’ll you have?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Chicago darkens,
as the sun melts slowly behind the horizon. <i>“There
is still hope for you!”</i> hangs in the air – palpable, real. A sharp chill
pierces the warmest corners of The Windy City, as it begins its bedtime ritual.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“The yellow light shines. Will
you speed up, or slow down?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
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==========</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thoughts? Comments? Questions?</div>
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Let me know!</div>
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If you found value in this, please share it with others. =)</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-42542703833026401702017-03-14T09:56:00.001-07:002017-03-14T09:56:15.954-07:00What's YOUR Superpower?We aren't superhumans. That's just scientific. We don't have radioactive spiders, or kryptonite. <div>
Sadly, there aren't guys that can run at the speed of light, or gals that can move things with their minds... (As cool as that would be)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There is something that exists that is just as neat.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Want to know what it is?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Take a guess!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Wrong! Try again. ;)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Give up?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This has been around for as long as human have been - which is technically true...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because this phenomenon is known as humanity.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We are all a part of this. Every one of us. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We aren't superhumans. But we can choose to be outstanding. We are all gifted, one way or another. Some of us are incredible actors, others care deeply for the hurting, others have athletic prowess. Everyone has something (quite a few have more than one). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm sure you've been asked 'If you had powers, what would yo do with them?' </div>
<div>
I imagine the answer came with some form of 'change the world' (If that's not what you said... Why not?)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You have skills. You have the potential to change the world. What are you waiting for? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Get out there, and be who God made you to be! Use your talents, gifts, time, and energy! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't settle to be normal. Be excellent. Be outstanding.</div>
<div>
Make them miss you, when you're gone.</div>
<div>
When it's all said and done, be the the one remembered for doing "The Father's work" (Luke 2:49)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just the days musings... What think you?</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-56815353566832888352017-02-28T13:48:00.001-08:002017-02-28T13:48:42.893-08:00MasksHey folks of the interwebs!<br />
Just announcing something small...<br />
<br />
BUT FIRST...<br />
Look at these pictures.<br />
I'll explain in a second.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZeCOHDlTZZUlG4YKu7bdiq8AXiv7CT5KaAjJJo2NB88Q5v9pwG3Odg-ABtPJ9A4nauHFG4HjeFPS53RwCGr6VZlYMb7oi6SbgTG8qAvEb5LEo2Rvi2Ki_XejCZsR_1lifz7x-YeDzQ/s1600/Alicia_Remenar_sml.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZeCOHDlTZZUlG4YKu7bdiq8AXiv7CT5KaAjJJo2NB88Q5v9pwG3Odg-ABtPJ9A4nauHFG4HjeFPS53RwCGr6VZlYMb7oi6SbgTG8qAvEb5LEo2Rvi2Ki_XejCZsR_1lifz7x-YeDzQ/s320/Alicia_Remenar_sml.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5ZsP4Uwxr0-FonfPt6z28_g1F6Z-aNix78a0rrYrVYM4FkanoK2xjs5CtxSGR8AHJOEsO9xVAw2ezNP-PFDjC8SFQ6tlwttkwRUDttfrmo9Tzk9dLz51AI1UAoMXJyO6QgdEFhALTQ/s1600/Jeremiah_Hoppman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5ZsP4Uwxr0-FonfPt6z28_g1F6Z-aNix78a0rrYrVYM4FkanoK2xjs5CtxSGR8AHJOEsO9xVAw2ezNP-PFDjC8SFQ6tlwttkwRUDttfrmo9Tzk9dLz51AI1UAoMXJyO6QgdEFhALTQ/s320/Jeremiah_Hoppman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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These are some digital portraits I've done.<br />
Maybe you've seen them, maybe you haven't...<br />Either way... this post is an announcement.<br />
If you like what you see, you can now get one of your own beautiful face!<br />
If you ARE interested, email me at byfaithstudios@gmail.com<br />
Make sure to include your name, and a photo.<br />
Payment will be required upon completion of the image. I will not send it, until payment has been processed. (Preferably through facebook)<br />
I charge $50 for each person in the image you want created.<br />
Have any questions? Shoot me an email!<br />
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I look forward to working with you.<br />
Spread the word! =D<br />
<br />
-Jeremiah H.Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-34021515821216860272017-02-19T19:43:00.000-08:002017-02-19T19:43:39.736-08:00Mom's GardenLiving in a desert makes it difficult to grow much of anything.<br />
Unless its sagebrush, cactus, or the ever prominent tumbleweed, you'll be hard pressed to find anything long-term, where there is no consistent water source.<br />
<br />
However, there was a place of solace one could find, if you lived here, in New Mexico.<br />
Somehow, through the dry, scorched earth, a beautiful myriad of color would burst through the mass of dull green shrubbery, and dirty blue skies. In the middle of this desolate place, my mother had planted a garden.<br />
<br />
This was no ordinary garden, mind you.<br />
Sturdy walls embraced the outside edge; giving shade to those plants, frail to the noon-day sun, and much-needed respite from the harsh, never-ending force, that we call wind.<br />
Reaching further upwards, horse-fence graced the walltop, protecting the contents therein from the predators and greedy paws of would-be intruders.<br />
Carefully cultivated soil, dark, rich, sweet smelling groundcover, gave space and nutrients to the wandering root systems of the various vegetables and flowers.<br />
This is merely the outside. A veritable fortress, against any rodent, looking for an easy snack.<br />
<br />
Once you pass through the creaky gate, a new world takes shape.<br />
This world was my mom's happy place.<br />
It wasn't hard to see why.<br />
Strong tomato plants, with dashes of red and yellow, stand proudly along the east wall.<br />
Daring squash plants, hugging the ground, creep along the west side.<br />
Small marigolds, dot the ground with splashes of yellow, and orange.<br />
In the far corner, a watermelon seed had snuck in unnoticed... It had become a monster, over the spring. Looming behind the rows of peas and carrots.<br />
Stepping through the entry, was like stepping through a portal, to another dimension.<br />
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This was my mom's garden.<br />
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It was...<br />
<br />
Now, it's once majestic walls, have crumbled. The ground, once intense black, now grey, and parched. The plants are no more than a mere memory...<br />
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What happened to this place?<br />
Where did it all go?<br />
<br />
Mom knew how to add color to a dreary situation.<br />
She always had the right words to say.<br />
Like the garden, she protected us... not in a commanding way... but in a way that allowed us to enjoy every bit of God's creation.<br />
She read the Bible, giving us a strong Biblical foundation, and spiritual nutrition.<br />
Her heart was full of His love.<br />
When you talked to her, you would be taken to a different place. Her words of wisdom were unmatched, and genuine.<br />
<br />
My mom's garden was merely an outpouring of who she was when she was here.<br />
<br />
But my mom is gone... as is her garden.<br />
<br />
The memory lingers. The love stays strong.<br />
<br />
Her legacy will continue, in each of our own gardens... which we will plant, nurture, and care for.<br />
Maybe one day, our garden will be added to hers.Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-50096618885579890502017-02-16T19:24:00.002-08:002017-02-16T19:24:36.447-08:00My MonsterI'll admit it. I've got a monster. It's an ugly beast. <div>
Unmanageable, Untameable, Underestimated, and unwanted.</div>
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However, with very strict regulation, it can become less of a threat.</div>
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I'm referencing, of course, the tongue - a vile demon - forged in the fire of hate, and malice. It desires to spark conflict, or deceit. It spreads out traps and manipulation, hoping to ensnare any and all who fall prey to the cunning wickedness that is an unbridled tongue.</div>
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How is it, that something so small, can have such an immense role in everything we do?</div>
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The capabilities of it, stretches far beyond the sinful nature of man. </div>
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It can also be an exceptionally powerful tool. A tool that builds up, reinforces, or encourages others. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The Bible says something to the effect of; "Can a spring bring forth both fresh, and saltwater?" (James 3:11) </div>
<div>
Why does this happen? Are we all just fakers? Are we building our own towers out of other people's bricks?</div>
<div>
We use the same mouth to both pray to God, and then curse our neighbors. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A lot of questions... </div>
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What are your thoughts? </div>
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Will you rise, and with me, work towards controlling this evil force?</div>
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Or will you let it overtake you?</div>
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The choice is yours!</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-11290519059766690792017-02-08T22:44:00.002-08:002017-02-08T22:44:35.755-08:00What's in a smile?<div>
Some use a smile as a weapon. The deadly curve, with malice lurking just behind, evil intent, and wicked planned. This vile smirk laughs in the face of gratefulness and love, and strikes down the pure and hopeful grin.</div>
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While the wretched plot, and devise and scheme, there is another form that a smile can be.</div>
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It is used commonly as a mask. A mask to hide shame, bitterness, pain, and sorrow. Happiness is easy to fake, because people don't like to accept anything less. To them, happiness = success. Regardless of how broken they are, to wear that smile, hurts even worse.</div>
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Through tears and agony, these poor souls suffer... there is yet a third face on which a smile can rest.</div>
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A face of true joy! A grateful heart is a glad one. When the wearer knows the honesty behind the grin, there is peace, and hope. Love, and warmth. </div>
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While others try searching for it, and some try to fabricate it, only those that found it, know what it's like. </div>
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To be 'happy' is shallow. It's only skin deep.</div>
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To have JOY is infectious. (In the best way)</div>
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The solution? </div>
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Give thanks. =)</div>
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Thoughts? Comments?</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-11413672211064112012017-02-04T22:55:00.002-08:002017-02-04T22:55:19.188-08:00Sorry for the Wait...Folks!<div>
It's been way too long... For that, I apologize.</div>
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Seems like a million and one things have happened over the course of these past (near) two years...</div>
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I won't get into that though. Far too much backstory.</div>
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Don't leave yet! There's been something on my mind, and I'd like for you to read it, and provide input. </div>
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Here goes.</div>
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====</div>
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Waiting. I'm always waiting. It seems to me, that the more I try to get ahead, the further behind I get.</div>
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Why is that? Am I doing something wrong? Is it just that I can't do anything? Is that simply my fate?</div>
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Fate. What a precarious word to use, so flippantly. </div>
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Too many questions, not enough answers. </div>
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Or maybe, just maybe, I'm just looking in the wrong places...</div>
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Sometimes it seems all I have left, is to wait. </div>
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Perhaps... perhaps the answer is patience. </div>
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Wait on God's plan, instead of pushing ahead, in my selfish desire, and sinful blindness.</div>
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Human nature has this innate desire to 'do it myself!' Even at a young age, it's evident.</div>
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This, in and of itself, doesn't seem wrong at all. In fact, to many, this sounds like a valuable skill. However, this self-sufficiency has bred a different species of value, then what I grew up with. </div>
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I was taught to pray, and follow God's will. Not to prey on the weak, to fulfill my ignorant wants.</div>
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I learned the true purpose of dying to myself, so that God can and will be glorified. Not how to glorify myself with useless stuff I'll never use anyway.</div>
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My parents led by example. Living selflessly, always waiting on God's timing, no matter what.</div>
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In the end, the wait is worth it.</div>
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Why is it worth it?</div>
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That may be something you need to find out for yourself, my friend.</div>
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====</div>
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My late-night thoughts, this Saturday evening! What do you think?</div>
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Let me know!</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-64795523834978123612015-04-15T17:48:00.003-07:002015-04-15T17:48:40.201-07:00The Lines Time Creates<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
There is no way to escape it.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
It is always present, and always prevalent. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You can’t hide from it, or ignore it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAKw0vPtoCACoTcdao6HE2MkKeJpAx4Era7yYz3T-JZHy9S5pH0_SS191d9-5Kro6VMGKiEWNpSoj5vQUWPQ0UWe1QFvvpEJVTlOsxIwLuniEvIL84Oqg8R82-1Mgp-Y5RrOOOHwoSw/s1600/Fancy+Watch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAKw0vPtoCACoTcdao6HE2MkKeJpAx4Era7yYz3T-JZHy9S5pH0_SS191d9-5Kro6VMGKiEWNpSoj5vQUWPQ0UWe1QFvvpEJVTlOsxIwLuniEvIL84Oqg8R82-1Mgp-Y5RrOOOHwoSw/s1600/Fancy+Watch.jpg" height="232" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is time.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
If a man chooses to be rebellious in every aspect of
life, they still cannot deny the final calling of time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Each and every person will run out of it. Every last soul
must succumb to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
This leaves me with an important question. Amidst the
tangles of the many lives we see daily, how many of those people fail to
realize the importance of time?<o:p></o:p></div>
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More importantly, how do we use this temporary gift?<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was gifted to us before time began, and gifted by the
One who began time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This alone, is sobering. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Why do we make light of the vapor of time? We waste every
second on video games, and Internet cats.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
We use our smartphone screens to escape real life, with
an earbud implanted in our ear 24/7, to drown out all that we disagree with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
I know of a generation that used imagination to create
things of worth…Not to launch birds into a digital structure. They worked with their hands to produce a
living crop, not asking acquaintances to donate a ‘blanket’ or ‘milk bottle’ so
your calf in Farmville will grow faster. They got jobs by working hard, and
being their best, not by sitting in class, and spouting everything the teacher told
them to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Point is, we all have a predetermined amount of time to
accomplish something great, and yet we stare into virtual realities, and worry
about what someone will think of your latest tweet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Let’s face it. This generation is in a rut. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
How are we to escape it? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Certainly not by standing still, and waiting for someone
else to pick up the slack. For all you know, YOU are that someone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Get up. Look around. The world is broken. It has fallen
to pieces while you sat, phone in hand, browsing Facebook. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Nobody knows how much time you or I have. So together,
let’s use what we have left, and redeem it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Ephesians 5:16</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Perhaps I'm rambling...</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
Thoughts? Comments? Questions? </div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-82629965077039768402014-08-02T20:56:00.001-07:002014-08-03T18:41:08.130-07:00Where Glory Matters<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>You’ve been counting down the days to this very moment. Every inch of
your being is tense, waiting, lingering. Since you were young, this was your
goal, and you; after so many years of experience, growing, and struggling; have
come to this point. You breathe deeply, and look this goal straight in the eye.
Fists clench, as you mentally steel yourself… This is it. This is the end of
chapter one… This is the beginning of a whole new beginning. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This could be anything, from a major
performance, to asking for a young lady’s hand in marriage. We all have a final
goal in sight. The question is; will we complete them? And if so; how?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my question to you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am
preparing for a couple races coming up soon. If I don’t work my legs, than I
won’t be ready to run all the way. If I am not ready to run all the way, then I'm are no longer doing everything to God’s glory. Let’s face it… doing something
halfway has NEVER shown any respect to God. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, when you really go at it,
and I mean with every aching hour, working those legs, just so you can finish
that race strong, there is such a feeling of finality, knowing that you have
done well, as a faithful servant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Realize this doesn’t have to do
with working out only… this applies to every task you set out to do, whether it’s
sweeping the kitchen, or building the Eiffel Tower. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me take this one step
further. I read on Google+ or Facebook (perhaps both) a friend of mine had said
something to the effect of “We spend so much of our time in worldly pursuits.”
Sure we give God the glory and all, but are we only blowing hot air? Do we
spend time getting to know the One we are so worried about making known? If we
truly do desire to Give HIM the glory, then it starts in our personal lives. When
we give Him our time, our thoughts, and everything we have, (They are His
anyways…) that is when we can TRULY say everything we do is for His glory.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just a snippet of what’s on my
mind this evening. =)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Am I rambling? What are your
thoughts?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
-Jeremiah<o:p></o:p></div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-21176507049813016632014-03-28T22:08:00.001-07:002014-03-28T22:08:19.765-07:00GoPro Footage from a MotorcycleEnjoy! =D<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="328" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/LV3KySzqEYI" width="550"></iframe>Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-24454152848377977252014-02-23T17:45:00.001-08:002014-02-23T17:50:03.750-08:00What do we Defend?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Hey everyone! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A few months ago, I shared a blog post written by a friend about her
thoughts on the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The response I got was shocking. I’m
not going to go into the details of everyone’s comments, but they were all to
the effect of <i>“That’s wrong! How dare you
go against a movie that I enjoy so much!”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9tkdCqPMlbRzYrGwsH4MjnPRXKm7dUqJVV6s8moH1MExo4sm63SON3wx5AHcr0nmcRXRJNwNOm0BjNPR7UpmIzS9U87U5eg1JhUckHAJxVQlZ5ltyFE17MAqUhvN56pf1zYYPKpR3w/s1600/mad-37445_640.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9tkdCqPMlbRzYrGwsH4MjnPRXKm7dUqJVV6s8moH1MExo4sm63SON3wx5AHcr0nmcRXRJNwNOm0BjNPR7UpmIzS9U87U5eg1JhUckHAJxVQlZ5ltyFE17MAqUhvN56pf1zYYPKpR3w/s1600/mad-37445_640.png" height="200" width="146" /></a></div>
I was amazed, and saddened. Now, I’m going to point out, that those of
you that did comment made some very interesting points, a few of which were
valid. But the real issue that I saw was not that someone chose to speak out
against what they saw as evil; it was that people chose to stand up for
something that has no eternal value.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Answer me this: Why is my generation so ready to stand up and defend a
film of this world, specifically created to entertain, but will ignore the
pressing issues of today? Abortion, for instance; we all know it is wrong… why don’t
we do anything about it? And yet, we get all up in arms when someone says
something against a movie that they feel strongly against. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
To put it plainly folks, you are speaking out of both sides of your
mouths. (This is something that even I struggle with!) I’ll admit… I’m not the
best example. But I pray that this post will make a change in you and me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Take a stand people. Not for your favorite film, or the music you
listen to, but for Christ! If you really want to make a difference in this
world, you have got to get His word out, and you cannot do that when you are
arguing that Lord of the Rings is a worthwhile pastime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Anyway… this has just been on my heart for a while… Had to get it out
into the open. Any thoughts? Comments? Reiterations? Rants?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Please comment below what you think!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As always,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
God Bless!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
-Jeremiah<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
P.S. If you were offended, either ask God why, or (to put it bluntly) consider
leaving. I’ll be doing a lot of posts like this… and if you don’t like the
sound of this one… this may not be the place for you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Just sayin’ =)<o:p></o:p></div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-73349720652765643742014-01-03T21:33:00.001-08:002014-01-03T21:33:43.637-08:00I'm back at it!Hello to one and all!<br />
I might as well get back to blogging, as I've kinda had this urge recently to write.<br />
<br />
This post will mostly be a quick 2012 recap, and then some of the changes that will be happening to this blog.<br />
<br />
Biggest and most important change, I think, was that I graduated. What a relief, what a great step towards success, what a great milestone. For those of you that haven't graduated yet, hang in there! It is one of the most rewarding feeling you will EVER have.<br />
I made a lot of new friends, and grew to know I already knew even more.<br />
Everything else is rather pale in comparison with these two. (Besides, I would rater not talk about me... what did YOU all do last year?)<br />
<br />
Now for the exciting part of this post. What direction will this blog be taking?<br />
Well after a lot of prayer, and consideration, I feel like this blog should be used for encouragement, and insightful, optimistic information. (Don't worry, I'll still post some of my short stories, and videos at various intervals...)<br />
I'm going to attempt a once-a-month regular post. (With a random smattering of stuff in the middle of the months)<br />
I'm going to be posting more of what God is teaching me as this year progresses. Whether is be on the topic of which movies I should watch, what music I should listen to, or what He has been showing me spiritually.<br />
I'll also throw in a few movie/book reviews in there for good measure.<br />
What are your thoughts as to where this blog will be going this next year?Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-43405246473052955472013-03-18T19:07:00.005-07:002013-03-18T19:07:50.442-07:00Another Short one!Hey y'all, I know you haven't heard much from me... College life and all. =)<br />
I'll not make any excuses, I'll just get right into the good stuff.<br />
I have another short story written!<br />
Enjoy!<br />
===============================================<br />
<b>SET FREE</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had always thought of myself as an actress. As a young
child, my Mom never could tell if my ‘wounds’ were real; and for the most part,
they weren’t. There was one wound though that was real. I never even knew my
Dad. I know this sounds like any other sob story, but this happens to be MY sob
story. Nobody would ever listen to me, so I write out my feeling. Somehow, a
blank sheet of paper seems to listen better than most people nowadays.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Mom actually had me out of wedlock. I didn’t find out
until I was 19. I think my Mom was trying to protect me. She probably figured,
the less I know, the easier my life would be. I’ll be perfectly honest; my life
was fine until I found the truth. You know the saying; “The Truth will set you
free”? I didn’t feel very free at that point, actually, I didn’t feel much at
that point. Why did my Dad never even want to see his little girl? Was I that
much of a disgrace?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I grew older, I would mask the pain I felt inside. An
actress never betrays her true emotions on stage. The stage of my life was no
different. The feelings I had stayed
inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nobody cares to listen to an unwanted teen.” I would tell
myself. This kind of scenario is in every country, state, and city. I was just another scenario. Dads all around
the world, walk out on their families. Mom’s leave their Husbands for a ‘more
exiting’ life. I could not keep my emotions to myself. I had to tell someone. I
felt I would explode if I could not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Mom had been a beacon of hope for me since I had left
home. I knew I could tell my Mom my feelings. “She will understand;” I told
myself. “Dad left her too.” I showed up at her doorstep, and rang the doorbell.
A man answered. He seemed to be in his late 50’s, brown hair, now graying. And
deep, sad gray eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was startled. Where was Mom? <br />
“Sir, would you kindly tell me why you are at my Mom’s house?” I asked; a little colder than I had meant to.
<br />
The man answered with a question: “Cindy? Is that you?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This man was beginning to scare me. How did he know my name?
Where was my Mom? Why was he here? The man reached out, and touched the side of
my head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A tear trickled down his wrinkling cheek as he repeated
himself. “Cindy, is that you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
I was quivering
in fear now. <i>“What does this man want?!” </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
“You don’t
remember me?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<i>“What kind of a question is that?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
“Cindy, I, I am
so sorry for leaving you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<i>“What? There is no way!”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
“I… Cindy… I’m so
sorr-…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point, the man broke down into sobs. He fell to his
knees, and looked up. His gray eyes, now with a hint of redness looked directly
into mine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I no longer quivered in fear instead, I felt a
sadness. A sadness I had never felt since the day my Mom told me the truth. The
man seemed to compose himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cindy, my name is Levi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“That
name. Why do I remember it?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A new wash of emotions seem to overcome Levi. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just stared at him. Why is his name so familiar?
Slowly, I begin to remember the name. Then suddenly, like a thunderbolt, I
remembered everything. My mom, sitting in her living room, me right next to
her. Both of us in tears, she is telling me the reason I didn’t know my Dad.
She was telling me why I don’t remember Levi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Dad?”</i>
I whispered. He looked up at me again. He mouthed the words “<i>will you forgive me?”</i> I was at a loss.
On one hand, I could not believe his audacity, to come back and haunt my
Mother. On the other, I realized, <i>“He
came back! My Dad came back to me!”</i> The latter feelings ground to a halt. I
felt nothing towards this monster. He hurt my Mom, abandoned me, and left us to
our own devices. He harbored no feelings then, Why the change now? Does he
realize how much he destroyed my life, or my Mom? I hated this man. Why do I
hate my Father?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could no longer keep bottled up. My emotions flooded
over. I fell to my knees, and hugged him. I told him every feeling I had
towards him. I told him I hated him. I told him how he hurt me. I told him how
much I missed not having a father. I told him I loved him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Dad just kneeled there with me in his arms, and
rocked back and forth. Tears coursing down his frail cheeks. He kept
whispering.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Why
did I leave you Cindy? I had everything I wanted, why did I leave you?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Levi had come back to Mom and I. He knew that only
through forgiveness, would he be a new man. His coming back, had an even
greater effect on me though; Through my Dad’s faults, I found a Father who was
faultless. And I can only pray that He will show his faithfulness to my earthly
father.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had always been taught that the truth will set you
free. I have been set free. The pain of past emotions has evaporated. I can
only forgive; and let go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“The
truth will set us <b>FREE</b>.”</i><br />
John 8:32<br />
<br />
<i>-Copyright 2012-<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>============================================</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what do y'all think? Let me know! =)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God Bless!</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-83905489704655346592013-02-06T17:26:00.002-08:002013-02-06T17:27:27.766-08:00Please keep these words in mind when you go through a rough spot, or trial: "<span style="color: #073763;">God will only test those who He deems strong enough to endure it."</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
God will give us trials if He knows that we are able to conquer it. The harder the test is, the stronger your faith is.<br />
Remember, if life is going easy, you should probably look at your spiritual walk with God.<br />
<br />
Maybe I am rambling. What are you thoughts?Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-24673614484709189282012-11-20T16:33:00.001-08:002012-11-20T16:33:18.665-08:00Frisbee<div>
Here is a logo I did for my Ultimate Frisbee team this year. Whaddiya think?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLTQ3PNUo06l6ik0d1JvqIyUVvFxr7h9XZLKLUtch6ooXcjV9wsbfn8ha9zl1KgHl5lg2J13l7TQN2_xkEIB44tfFTA6TiM6kIGqLjXPlqVFvOiVT2UrplLCJPu3-Vf2L1LRioqJgHA/s1600/Ultimate+Frisbee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLTQ3PNUo06l6ik0d1JvqIyUVvFxr7h9XZLKLUtch6ooXcjV9wsbfn8ha9zl1KgHl5lg2J13l7TQN2_xkEIB44tfFTA6TiM6kIGqLjXPlqVFvOiVT2UrplLCJPu3-Vf2L1LRioqJgHA/s320/Ultimate+Frisbee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-69780075653431173402012-11-18T18:32:00.004-08:002012-11-18T18:32:53.762-08:00Photoshopping... =)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Hey audience! I've been messing around with Photoshop recently, and decided to post a couple of my works. Let me know what you think! =)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jtdGbqOigpq8OEZVB4cOC8llJlCqBx7YGtFIkdljhfvPu_d8aogAoIXIaBx3C_HrVx8ptEsEpLH-m-ro5rARI2yVhl6XThEZFjpPVVg8s4YjbCQuOxZllut2zOZy3_3KDUxS6hAWrA/s1600/Fire+Horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jtdGbqOigpq8OEZVB4cOC8llJlCqBx7YGtFIkdljhfvPu_d8aogAoIXIaBx3C_HrVx8ptEsEpLH-m-ro5rARI2yVhl6XThEZFjpPVVg8s4YjbCQuOxZllut2zOZy3_3KDUxS6hAWrA/s320/Fire+Horse.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_pyvNZC4n8JMg0JY91wurt_Cyly71J3qrKJYV9i1HFymDMWwRrC60TN7wWO_Mgd9b9PfN5WEwllcjRHBpuqlKW6Is-aJEG9erjVOXV5_0nGH9yCOPSMXjiL8_Fgl4xwDxm36VwmJqQ/s1600/PhoneGunlikeYEAH!!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_pyvNZC4n8JMg0JY91wurt_Cyly71J3qrKJYV9i1HFymDMWwRrC60TN7wWO_Mgd9b9PfN5WEwllcjRHBpuqlKW6Is-aJEG9erjVOXV5_0nGH9yCOPSMXjiL8_Fgl4xwDxm36VwmJqQ/s320/PhoneGunlikeYEAH!!.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-60735292329596964222012-11-01T19:58:00.003-07:002012-11-01T19:58:41.029-07:00Blast from the Past... Recently I was reading a script for a play I was in last year called; Cheaper By the Dozen.<div>
What a great memory!</div>
<div>
Here is an excerpt from the Script:</div>
<div>
Backdrop: Anne, the oldest girl in the family, has skipped dinner and is missing an exam while at a movie with her boyfriend Larry. (And a brother, Bill, (10?) as a chaperone). This is the scene where she gets back home.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
========================</div>
<div>
[For a moment, the stage is empty. Then the door L Opens. Bill bursts in and moves to C stage. He acts very much put-out. Then Anne enters L, turns back, and calls.]</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anne. Come on in Larry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
[Larry, a nice looking boy, enters L somewhat hesitantly.]</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anne [smiling at him]. Just- my house.</div>
<div>
Bill. I'm starved.</div>
<div>
Anne [irritably]. Well, go eat.</div>
<div>
Bill. Don't worry. And don't think I didn't notice.</div>
<div>
Anne. Notice what?</div>
<div>
Bill. Remember that silly part in the movie? [They nod.] That part all about-[With distaste]-<i>love?</i> [Continues, accusingly.] I saw you hold hands.</div>
<div>
Anne [gasping]. That's a lie! [Bill folds his arms and glares.]</div>
<div>
Larry. If anything like that happened, for maybe ten seconds, it was because of the movie and entirely involuntary.</div>
<div>
Anne [turning towards Larry wistfully]. It was?</div>
<div>
Larry [nodding]. it was that kind of a movie.</div>
<div>
Anne [swallowing her disappointment]. Oh.</div>
<div>
Bill [to Anne]. See?</div>
<div>
=========================</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just a nugget for y'all. =)</div>
<div>
Let me know if y'all want anymore!</div>
<div>
Here is the theater groups page: <a href="http://www.etheatre.org/">Encore Theatre</a></div>
<div>
God Bless!</div>
<div>
Quick side note... I was the guy who played Larry...)</div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-73838453360916750542012-10-23T07:28:00.002-07:002012-10-23T07:28:18.618-07:00A Favorite Quote<br />
<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; margin-left: 25px; margin-right: 25px; padding: 0px;">
<i>"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." ---Edmund Burke</i></h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzJzA3WjIIBW2KqxcVwrwR5ANq8Ds_gbdGhpupYDbvfFr0_qnsykGOFEABOZeuKXA5f8b55VwVQ147x_4MCr_jtL64zulPhT6xuSF1lZ3IkvfkEenDuQCEhyLpmW8zLPi-QOmXM-7Rg/s1600/Edmund_Burke2_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzJzA3WjIIBW2KqxcVwrwR5ANq8Ds_gbdGhpupYDbvfFr0_qnsykGOFEABOZeuKXA5f8b55VwVQ147x_4MCr_jtL64zulPhT6xuSF1lZ3IkvfkEenDuQCEhyLpmW8zLPi-QOmXM-7Rg/s1600/Edmund_Burke2_c.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
This statement is so true! And now, with the upcoming elections, it is imperative that we, as christians, DO SOMETHING! If we all just sit back saying: "Well Virgil Goode has no chance anyway." and do nothing, we've already lost the battle! If you quit saying nay, and go out and vote your conscience, he will most certainly have a chance! But enough of my rambling. See y'all next time! =)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-4545587005542541512012-10-19T08:23:00.001-07:002012-10-19T08:23:06.892-07:00Short StoryThis is a short story I wrote a few months back.<br />
Let me know what you all think!<br />
(This Story has won second place in a "Short Story Competition)<br />
================================<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Balthazar; font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“How
can my life go wrong now?” I thought, “I have everything I want.” But suddenly
an icy hand of fear chills my spine and bitterness floods up my veins as I
remember my past. Tears spring unbidden to my eyes, as the memories flood in
faster than the tears that now stain my cheeks. “I don’t want to remember” I
whisper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Back then, nothing was in right order. I had no parents, and
was on the streets of New York; a tough life for a twelve year old. The years
consisted of cold winter nights, and scorching summer afternoons. I would stand
on a street corner and beg for money, or food. I would stand there, with a
cardboard sign that stated roughly; <i>“No
home. Need food and money”</i> The occasional ‘Good Samaritan’ would stop and
chuck a few coins into my upturned felt cap. But other than that, I was on my
own. I really don’t know how I survived those years. Maybe it was the hope of
someone wanting me, but whatever it was, it kept the fire burning in me for
five painful years. As my thirteenth birthday came around, I hit rock bottom.
There was nothing that could bring my life any lower. Utterly lost in the ocean
of loneliness and drowning in my own self-pity. I would not sleep at nights
because I was afraid to wake up and find out I was still here; still in the pit
that many fall, and few return. I knew I was one of the many. I was not one of
the few. The days passed by, and I just existed without living. I was not
human, I was nobody. One day, I was out on my usual corner, when someone came
to me and started talking to me. Nothing made sense, the person just kept
saying things like “You’re lost, and you need a savior” or “all you have to do
is believe!” I knew I wasn’t lost, and I certainly believed that my life was a
real one… All I could think was: “<i>This
person is either high or drunk.” </i>I ignored them. The next day, the person
was there. And once again, I was proselytized with their biblical jargon. After
that I moved to a different street corner. I wasn’t about to become somebody’s
‘project’. When I turned fourteen, I still had no hope, and no want of life.
But something happened that changed the course of my life. I was walking to my
corner, when I heard a sound. I looked to my right and there stood a solitary
box. It was moving. I did what curiosity told me to, I looked into the box.
There was one small black pitiful looking kitten. I didn’t want an animal, so I
just kept walking. I heard a rustling behind me. I turned around and saw the
box had tipped somehow and the kitten had started crawling over to me. The grey clouds started dropping icy rain. I
did not want to get caught in this storm, so I turned and walked back to my
small hovel. I felt worse than the dark foreboding clouds looked. Suddenly I
saw a shape moving through the sheets of freezing drops. It was the kitten; but
now it did not look like a kitten. It looked like a wet towel that someone
tossed into a ditch. The kitten was barely moving. It did, however, let out a
single, quiet <i>“mew”</i> and that was it.
I tried to ignore it, but I just could not bring myself to let a tiny kitten
die. I ran out, into the pelting rain scooped up the poor little thing, and
sprinted back. The kitten looked up at me and I could’ve sworn it gave me a
grateful look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">What happened that day made me stop thinking about myself, and
focus more on one that needed compassion, and help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">As the days wore on, I took care of the kitten. I had named her
Homeless, but she was far from being homeless; she always had a home with me. As
my fifteenth birthday rolled around, I noticed a change come about my outlook on
life. There was something that did love me. The Kitten, now a full grown cat,
was always at my side. Always looking to comfort me during those rough days,
where I would just cry for hours. This cat had given me what, I guess, was a new
lease on life. I started searching for a job. Anyplace that would take a
fifteen year old, without a big fuss. After many weeks of searching, that old
feeling started to creep up my spine. I would think: <i>“nobody wants a hobo kid.”</i> But for some reason, every time I had a
thought like that, Homeless would meow loudly. I never quite understood what it
was, that gave her that instinct. I finally found a job at a local Laundromat.
I usually had the graveyard shift. Nobody would come in during those hours, so I
would just talk to Homeless; who went everywhere with me. My sixteenth birthday
was a tough one. Nobody but Homeless and I celebrated. I never used to
celebrate, but when Homeless came into my life, I would go and find something
sweet, for both of us to share. I quit the Laundromat, and got another job at
McDonalds. This meant Homeless could not come with me. Mostly I worked 10:00 AM
- 7:00 PM daily. I had a fair paycheck so I was able to afford a rundown
apartment. At least it did not leak, and the walls were still intact. Three
weeks before I turned seventeen, I came home, and called for Homeless. She did
not show up. This was not a problem; she went out a lot when I got the job at
McDonalds. I went to bed, but I just could not get to sleep. Something was not
right. I decided to take a walk around the block. Suddenly, I heard a
screeching coming from my left. My heart lurched inside me, and I took off like
I never had before. I reached the accident site in tears. I just knew Homeless
had been hit. I slowed to a walk, and looked on. All I saw was a lady just
staring underneath her vehicle. I did not see Homeless. A sudden sound made my
jump. It was a tiny <i>“mew”</i> I turned
around, and saw Homeless standing there; as if nothing had happened. I was
never so relieved to see her just sitting there and staring on. I still don’t
understand what happened that night. The driver said she saw an animal crossing
the road. She swerved, but still felt the car hit something. She got out of the
car, and there was nothing there. I always locked Homeless in the apartment
after that. I did not want to lose her again. The next week, I came home, to
find a note on the door. It read: <u>Hi, you don’t know me, but I know you.
Would you come to lunch Sun. at 10:30? We can meet a McDonalds.<br />
</u>
<u> Sincerely,<br />
</u>
<u>your step-mom, Deborah<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><u><br /></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I did not know what to do. I just stared at the letter in disbelief.
I thought she had moved to California. I could not bring myself to believe she
was here; in the big city. I had the early shift the next morning, so I went to
bed, and hoped to wake up and find it was all a dream. A bad dream. It was not.
This was reality. Suddenly, my life felt kind of surreal. I didn’t know when I
was dreaming, or when I wasn’t. Friday rolled around, than Saturday, then
Sunday. I still had to go to work. But the problem was that SHE would be there
too. I didn’t want to go. I left that morning a little early. My Taurus was in
the shop, so I walked to McDonalds. I was used to walking places.
Unfortunately, there was a little church on the way. I usually rolled up my
windows as I drove past. However, seeing as I had no windows to roll up; I
would just have to ignore the music. But for some reason, I couldn’t. I attempted
to, but every time I tried to think of something else, this music would break
that thought down. I suddenly recognized the song. It was a tune my mother, my
real mother, would sing to me, when I was just a small child. The whole scene
left me with a feeling of; <i>“I’ve done
this before…”</i> Again, the words pierced my sub-conscious thoughts: <b>White as snow, white as snow, though my
sins were as scarlet, Lord I know, Lord I know, that I’m clean and forgiven.
Through the power of your blood, through the wonder of Your love, through faith
in You, I know that I can be, White as snow!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I finally made it out of earshot of the church, but the song
still rung loudly in my head. I thought to myself: <i>“How can someone’s blood clean me? Doesn’t blood stain? Who would love
me enough to clean me with their own blood?”</i> and other thoughts along those
lines. As I walked up the McDonalds, I had completely forgotten about my
step-mother. That is, until I stepped through the door. She was in a corner
booth. I could hardly recognize her. But I did not want her to see me, so I
moved quickly behind the counter, and timed in. I now had an excuse if she
wanted to talk to me; I’m busy serving other people. I knew what my job was, so
I got to work, trying to ignore the woman in the corner. She did not leave at
twelve, or two, or even five. She just sat there. I tried to avoid her; and was
successful until my boss told me, to tell “that lady” that “she’s loitering.” I
went as slow as possible, but I could not delay the inevitable. “Excuse me,
Ma’am.” She looked up from a book she was reading. I continued; “um, you are,
um… well, loitering.” She looked at me with surprise, and a hint of sadness.
“Really?” she asked. “Well, yeah” I replied. She simply closed the book, and
got up. I almost let her walk out, but for some crazy reason, I heard myself
ask her: “Ma’am is your name, Deborah?” she stopped dead in her tracks. “Excuse
me?” she turned and stared at me. This was the same stare that she used when I
told her I never wanted to see her again, or when I said she wasn’t my mother.
All of my old feelings resurfaced with a vengeance. “Yes, I am Deborah.” She
said cautiously. I did not know what to do. It seemed as though I had no
control over what my voice was saying; and for the second time, I heard myself
say: “Deborah, I am Alex.” My stepmom’s hand flew to her face and I could see
the tears well up instantly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” she asked.
Suddenly, I could talk again. I was so overwhelmed however, I couldn’t have
said anything if I had wanted to. For some reason, I just wanted to comfort
this lady I front of me. This lady who I used to hate, I could feel nothing but
pity for her. I hugged her. Tears took their place in my eyes as she said: “I
love you Alex.” I could no longer keep my emotions in as questions flooded out.
She and I sat back down at that tiny little corner booth; and started at the
beginning. We didn’t stop until my boss strode up and said: “Ma’am, you are
loitering; I ask that you please leave.” Deborah stood and walked toward the
door. “Wait!” I called. “Here is my address.” She thanked me and closed the
door. I got home that night around 9:00 with a light feeling, as if a huge
burden had just been thrown off my back. I was happy. I could not remember
having this feeling since I was 5 or 6 years old. Homeless seemed to sense my
joy. She always seemed to have a keen insight into what I though, or felt. I
awoke the next morning, and shocked the drowsiness with a mug of coffee. I
poured Homeless’ food, and left to pick up my car. I took a different route so
I could bypass the little church completely. I got home, and noticed Homeless
hadn’t touched her food. I guessed it was because it was a new, cheaper brand.
I thought nothing of it, and cleaned up for work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It was after 11:30 when I got back home from McDonalds, and I
was tired. I barely made it to my bedroom, before I collapsed into bed. There
were times I had some strange dreams, but doesn’t everybody, at one time or
another? Tonight I had one of those dreams: I was sitting on the couch in my
living room, and my mother walked in, and looked at me. “Feed the cat honey.” I
got up and started to, but realized there was already food in the bowl. “Mom,
the cat already has food.” She just kept staring. “Feed the cat.” I began to
protest, when my mom pointed her finger to the door. “Go feed the cat.” She
said. “Mom,” I reasoned, “The cat’s food bowl is right here.” Mom repeated herself again. I was getting a
little scared now, and so I walked outside. There, an empty food bowl sat, and
right next to it, lay a towel. Curious, I picked it up. Underneath, Homeless lay.
Dead. Suddenly, I jerked awake. A cold sweat covered me. I was shaking. I did
not want to know the meaning of this dream. I was afraid. “Dreams don’t mean
anything.” I told myself. I did not believe myself. I got up, and called for
Homeless. She did not come. My heart jumped to my throat. I choked; “No, no,
no! This can’t happen!” I frantically searched the entire house. No trace
whatsoever. Then I noticed the food bowl; it was still full. I needed some
fresh air! I ran and opened the door, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, on
the porch, sat an empty food bowl. But my attention was not on the food bowl.
It was on the towel lying next to it. I knew what was underneath. I slowly
turned the corner up. There lay my precious Homeless. Not a spark of life in
her. My legs turned to jelly. I slumped down, and cuddled the lifeless form in
my arms, and cried. I cried like I had never before. I never had loved
anything, or anyone, more than Homeless. I realized, then, that it was
Homeless; who had thrust me from the pit of despair, and self-pity. Now, her
job was done. I only could hope that she died peacefully. I don’t know what
clicked in me then, but from that day on, I had changed. I can’t really explain
what transpired that night. I was sitting on the porch crying and asking God:
“Why? Why now, my life was finally in order! Do you hate me? I’ve never done
anything to you!” suddenly, the song from the church bled into my thoughts. <i>“Though my sins were as scarlet”</i> I
thought to myself: “Having Homeless was not a sin!” The song, now surging into
my subconscious, ripped through my mind. <i>“Lord
I know, that I’m clean and forgiven,”</i> I knew I was not clean. I also knew
the song was not talking about Homeless. I was trying to talk my way around the
obvious. I just did not know what to do. All of the sudden, I wanted to be
‘white as snow’ I wanted to be clean, and forgiven! I started singing the song
softly to myself. Soon, the song turned to sobs, and the sobs turned to a
prayer. A prayer for forgiveness. A prayer that would make me; white as snow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The next morning, I called my mom and told her of the late
night experience. I told her about Homeless, about the thoughts that
overwhelmed me at the time, and I told her about the prayer. The life changing
prayer. I could tell my Mom got choked up about the cat. Even though she had
never seen her, I had told her how much I had loved that cat. She sounded
exited when I told her about the prayer. “Alex, I cannot tell you how much this
means to me. All I wanted was to tell you about God, but I never got the
chance, before you, well, before you left.” I knew she was right. “Look, Mom,
I’m sorry about the way I ran away, I was just so confused, and stressed… Will
you forgive me?” That did it for my Mom; I heard her crying on the other side.
“Yes, of course Alex! Of course I forgive you!” Now here I was, just on the eve
of my twentieth birthday, and my life had come apart, and been put back
together, in only 6 hours. I was a completely new person. My outlook on life
was different now; however, there were many times my new life was challenged by
something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Two months after I turned twenty-three, my mom died, a few
weeks later, I was in a car accident. I was paralyzed in both my legs. Again,
my life was shifted into third gear. I was now a paraplegic. Everything seemed
unreal to me for a few years after that. I had to get used to living my life in
a wheelchair. One night, around 11:00, I heard a really loud commotion coming
from the kitchen. I wheeled myself in, and to my utter astonishment, the door
was open, and a black figure stood before me; his weapons drawn from my sudden
appearance. I scooped the cat up, and he put his claws away. I then closed the
door. The intelligent little guy had somehow opened the door, and had come in,
and was feasting on the butter that was sitting on the counter. I had promised
myself, when Homeless had died, I would never have another animal. But this cat
was so scrawny, and malnourished, I could not, in my wildest dreams send him
back out the door. I named him Scram; short for scrawny, and malnourished.
Scram had a tendency to melt my heart as soon as I would look at him. He would
give me this look of, “Do I make you happy?” or “May I eat now?” I will never
forget little Scram. He surprised me, and lived completely opposite of his
name. He was small for a full grown cat, but his belly made up for what he
lacked in size. I had never owned an animal that ate that much, I didn’t even
eat that much! I think God sent this guy to help me heal after the accident. God
knew that animals were the ‘Band-Aids’ of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I had grown up on the streets of New York, so I had plenty of
knowledge of went on out there. I knew what could happen to 12 and 13 year
olds. I knew that I was one of the fortunate few, who ever survived. One night,
I had just gone to bed, Scram was under the bed; he always slept there, I had
another weird dream: I could see myself; I was sitting on a busy road. Cars
were just driving straight through me. I was walking across the road. I stopped
at a trash can, and opened the lid. A small child was in it. She had a dirty
face, tangled blonde hair, and deep, sad, blue eyes. She just looked up at me
and mouthed the word; “Help!” I put the lid back on and walked back across the
road. There sat a young boy. He jumped up when he saw me and gave me a hug.
“Did you go save my sister?” he asked. I then realized the girl was his sister.
I turned around, and saw her trying to cross over to me. She kept screaming
“BROTHER!! WHERE ARE YOU?!” the boy suddenly yelled out, and started sprinting
across the street. The driver of an oncoming car slammed his brakes. But I
could tell they weren’t going to stop in time. I started running across, but I
realized I was supposed to be in a wheelchair. I collapsed in the middle of the
road. Both children were not out of harm’s way yet, but neither was I. I was
right in the path of a Truck. The truck drove right through me. I remembered;
the cars could not hit me! I crawled over and started dragging the kids to
safety. Multiple times I was driven through. It hurt, but did not injure me. I
knew I could endure the pain, as long these kids were safe. After what seemed
like an hour, I made it safely across the street. Then I woke up. I had no idea
what the dream meant. The clock on my bedside dresser said: 3:48. I went back
to sleep, but the same dream came to me again, and again. On the third dream
however, a man got out of his car, and helped me get across. He then leaned
over to me and whispered: “These kids need someone to help, protect, and save
them. God knows, they do!” I jumped awake at those final words. I heard Scram
jump as well; except there was a piece of wood above his head. I winced; “That
sounded like it hurt.” I knew what this dream was all about. I looked at the
clock; 5:34. The dream kept replaying inside my head. Especially the words <i>“God knows they do!”</i> “Lord, I think I
understand what you are telling me, but I have no resources, no money, and no
skills!” I opened my Bible directly to Lamentations 5:3-4. <i>We are orphans-our fathers dead, our mothers widowed. We must even pay
for water to drink; our fuel is sold to us at the highest of prices.</i> “I’m
sorry Lord; I know you will bring the resources if you want me to do this.” I
was going to start a children’s rescue. I immediately started forming a plan.
Scram jumped up onto the bed, and I started petting him absentmindedly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Adobe Arabic"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Around
10:00 that morning, I called the pastor of the little white church. I was going
to ask him for any ideas on how to get started. Before I even had time to
explain what was going through my head, the pastor started talking. “Hey Alex,
I know God has a plan in store for you. Even though you are a paraplegic, that
does not mean you cannot do great things!” I thanked God silently and told the
pastor about my plan. God never ceased to amaze me. When He wanted to get a
point to me, He sure knew how to do it! I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, so I
called a couple of my friends, and got their advice. Most of them thought the
children’s rescue was a good idea. Some even volunteered to help me get it
started. “How can my life go wrong now?” I think, “I have everything I need.” I
no longer have that icy hand of fear freezing my spine. Bitterness is not
flooding through my veins anymore. My eyes are now dry, as the memories fade.
“Thank-you Lord; for helping me to remember” I whisper. I know a new chapter in
my life has just begun. The old is put off, and I step willingly into the next
page of my life. <i>“Thank-you God, for
everything you have given me. Thank-You for my helplessness, for without You, I
am nothing, but in You, I can do all things!”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Balthazar; font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The End?</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">=====================</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">So what did you think?</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Leave a comment below, and let me know!</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">(the copying of this story may result in fees, and </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">other</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">unpleasant</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> circumstances, as it has a copyright)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Balthazar; font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-63880544621487319162012-10-19T08:17:00.001-07:002012-10-19T08:17:41.755-07:00CROSSfireMy Brothers newest release!<br />
<a href="http://goldencomputerediting.blogspot.com/2012/10/2012-short-film-crossfire.html">www.goldencomputerediting.com</a>Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-9994073930118005462012-08-28T19:08:00.000-07:002012-08-28T19:08:40.862-07:00CollegePlus! Scholarship Contest<br />
Hey everybody! I have a request for y'all. Please click<br />
the link below, and vote for my video. It is an entry to a<br />
scholarship competition that CollegePlus! is holding. Also,<br />
share it like crazy please. you only have till 10:00<br />
(mountain time) tonight!<br />
http://scholarships.collegeplus.org/essays/350-what-value-would-i-receive<br />
Thank-You so much!!<br />
Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-38772413956124837992011-11-26T14:23:00.001-08:002011-11-26T14:23:30.562-08:00Y'all have to check this out!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://mrdoob.com/projects/chromeexperiments/google_gravity/">Epic Link!!</a><br />
<br />
<br />Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-75387515533328670352011-11-17T17:48:00.001-08:002011-11-17T17:58:33.571-08:00Song by Jonathan Hoppman: (To the toon, "Canine Crunchies)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Birthday Blisters can't be beat! They give your hands a special treat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Blisters on your hands and feet,can't wait till' birthday blisters!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Birthday Blisters laying tile, even though they take a while.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">They are 1 foot not a mile, all LOVE Birthday Blisters!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Birthday Blisters Blue AND Red, they hurt all the way to bed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">They sting, throb, and hurt your head, Love those Birthday Blisters. </span></span> <br />
<br />
Birthday Blisters You should try. They make You whine. They make you cry.<br />
Any-more You just might DIE. Get more Birthday Blisters!<br />
<br />
Birthday Blisters Don't look cool. Makes you feel like a fool.<br />
When You have them know they RULE!<br />
<br />
<br />
Nasty Birthday Blisters!<br />
<br />
<br />
(Tribute to Dad. WHo got Blisters on his BIRTHDAY!<br />
tyranny I tell You!)<br />
<br />
By: Jonathan Hoppman<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3698426298405149084.post-14416858157392550252011-10-07T15:14:00.000-07:002011-11-17T17:58:34.997-08:00 I know everyone likes a laugh... check some of these out!<br />
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I did <i><u><b>not</b></u></i> write these, i just pulled them off a website. =)<i><br /></i><br />
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<i> A bad workman blames his fools … EDIT: tools … stupid keyboard.</i><br /><br /><b> If you think good architecture is expensive, try bad architecture.<br /><br /> ... Brian Foote and Joseph Yoder</b><br /><br /><br /><u>The top ten scariest people you don't want to deal with in their professional capacity:<br /><br /> 10. Telephone solicitor<br /> 9. Traffic cop<br /> 8. SWAT team<br /> 7. Paramedic<br /> 6. Firefighter<br /> 5. Hazardous materials disposal team<br /> 4. Trauma surgeon<br /> 3. Executioner<br /> 2. Architect<br /> 1. Renovation contractor</u><br /><br /><i><br /> Homeowner: That's the lousiest construction I've ever seen! Is that because you're ignorant or apathetic?<br /> Contractor: Huh? I don't know what you mean.<br /> Homeowner: Do you know the difference between ignorance and apathy?<br /> Contractor: No, but who cares?</i><br /><br /><b><br /> Contractor: Mr. Smith, I'm sorry that I couldn't get back to finish the job until today.<br /> Homeowner: I'm Mr. Jones. I bought the house from Mr. Smith six months ago.</b><br /><br /><br /><u> Homeowner: I've got to hand it to you. You're the only contractor I've ever hired that's been able to bring religion into my life.<br /> Contractor: Is that because the hand of God guides me and the beauty of my work makes you think of Heaven?<br /> Homeowner: No, I didn't believe in the Devil and Hell until now.</u><br /><br /><i><br /> Two carpenters were working on a house. The one who was nailing down siding would reach into his nail pouch, pull out a nail and either toss it over his shoulder or nail it in.<br /><br /> The other, figuring this was worth looking into, asked, "Why are you throwing those nails away?"<br /><br /> The first explained, "If I pull a nail out of my pouch and it's pointed toward me, I throw it away 'cause it's defective. If it's pointed toward the house, then I nail it in!"<br /><br /> The second carpenter got completely upset and yelled, "You moron! The nails pointed toward you aren't defective! They're for the other side of the house!"</i><br /><br /><b> A workman was killed at a construction site. The police began questioning a number of the other workers. Based with past brushes with the law, many of these workers were considered prime suspects. They were a motley crew:<br /><br /> The electrician was suspected of wiretapping once but was never charged.<br /><br /> The carpenter thought he was a stud. He tried to frame another man one time.<br /><br /> The glazier went to great panes to conceal his past. He still claims that he didn't do anything; that he was framed.<br /><br /> The painter had a brush with the law several years ago.<br /><br /> The heating, ventilation and air conditioning contractor was known to pack heat. He was arrested once but duct the charges.<br /><br /> The mason was suspect because he gets stoned regularly.<br /><br /> The cabinet maker is an accomplished counter fitter.<br /><br /> The autopsy led the police to arrest the carpenter, who subsequently confessed. The evidence against him was irrefutable, because it was found that the workman, when he died, was hammered.</b><br /><br /><u> Back when I was working as a roofer, I was supposed to attach some galvanized sheet metal flashing with some long galvanized screws. I asked my foreman to hand me a screwdriver and was surprised when he handed me a hammer.<br /><br /> "No," I said, "I need a screwdriver."<br /><br /> "Here you go," he said, proffering the hammer again.<br /><br /> "No," I protested, "I want that long, skinny thing with the handle at one end and the flat blade at the other."<br /><br /> "Oh!" he said. "You want the screw remover!"</u><br /><br /><i>Definitions:<br /><br /> Contractor: A gambler who never gets to shuffle, cut or deal!<br /> Bid Opening: A poker game in which the losing hand wins.<br /> Low Bidder: A contractor who is wondering what he left out.<br /> Architect's Estimate: The cost of construction in Heaven.<br /> Project Manager: The conductor of an orchestra in which every musician is in a different union.<br /> Critical Path Method: A management technique for losing your shirt under perfect control.<br /> Delayed Payment: A tourniquet applied at the pockets.<br /> Completion Date: The point at which liquidated damages begin.<br /> Liquidated Damages: A penalty for failing to achieve the impossible.</i><br /><br /><br /><br /><b><br /> Three contractors were visiting a tourist attraction on the same day. One was from New York, another from Texas, and the third from Florida.<br /><br /> At the end of the tour, the guard asked them what they did for a living. When they all replied that they were contractors, the guard said, "Hey, we need one of the rear fences redone. Why don't you guys take a look at it and give me a bid?" So, off they went to check it out.<br /><br /> First to step up was the Florida contractor. He took out his tape measure and pencil, did some measuring and said, "Well, I figure the job will run about $900. $400 for materials, $400 for my crew, and $100 profit for me."<br /><br /> Next was the Texas contractor. He also took out his tape measure and pencil, did some quick figuring and said, "Looks like I can do this job for $700. $300 for materials, $300 for my crew, and $100 profit for me."<br /><br /> Without so much as moving, the New York contractor said, "$2,700."<br /><br /> The guard, incredulous, looked at him and said, "You didn't even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?"<br /><br /> "Easy," he said. "$1,000 for me, $1,000 for you and we hire the guy from Texas."</b><br /><br /><br /><br /><u><br />Home is where you hang your architect.<br /><br /> ... Clare Booth Luce</u><br /><br /><i> The government is doing an experiment, so they take an architect and put him in a room with 3 small glass balls on a table. They leave him, come back an hour later and the balls are stacked in a pyramid. They ask him why he did it and he says, "Because I knew it could be done."<br /><br /> Next they take an engineer, put him in the room with the balls. They leave him, come back an hour later and the balls are stacked straight up one on top of each other. They ask why he did it and he says, "Because I knew it could be done."<br /><br /> Then they take a contractor, same thing. Come back an hour later, there's one ball on the table. They ask him what happened and he goes "Umm ... well ... I broke one and the other one is in my lunchbox, I'm taking it home.</i><br /><b>One thing you never want to hear an architect say: “Oops!”<br />-Jeremiah Hoppman</b>Cheerful Dayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00731781832057186213noreply@blogger.com0