There's a book lying on my couch. "I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye". It's a book on grief. It came highly reccomended by my sister. I bought it as soon as I could, I believe it helped her on the road to healing. I wanted to heal too so I bought it. It arrived a few days ago and I cracked it open. I've read about three paragraphs and I can't read anymore. The book scares the crap out of me and I'm not entirely sure why.
It's sort of like that the haunted house at the end of street on Halloween. You know the one... with the strobe lights in the window, the graves in the yard, the cobwebs in the trees, and screaming and laughing kids running away in every direction? Everyone that's gone in tells you how great it is and they want to go back, and you REALLY want to go in but you're pretty sure you'll pee yourself if Jason jumps out of a corner and chases you down with a chainsaw... so maybe you don't want to take the chance, just in case.
I've heard that authors produce their best work when they are in the depths of misery, pain, and depression. I don't know how true that is. I like to write, in fact I love to write and I've been told that I'm quite talented when I do so. I consider myself an author but I didn't write a bit after my dad died and I was pretty miserable at that point. I did write a goodbye to my nephew when he died a few months ago, but that was only because screaming into nothingness started to hurt my throat and whispering into the dark seemed a bad habit to develop.
It seems as if nobody really understands why losing him hurts so much. He was more than my nephew. We were only three years apart. He was my first friend. He's in all of my first memories. If I ever felt joy, excitement, amusement, confusion, anxiety, fear, frustration, anger... he was a part of it. Even as I sit crying while I remember, I can see his smile and hear his laugh... and it hurts me even more. I hate being in a world where he isn't. John tells me that I have to "move on". I don't want to "move on". I never want to "move on". That would imply that I am leaving him behind, and how do you leave behind such a huge part of your life?
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Written For Jeremy
In Loving Memory
Jeremy Gene Sharpe
8/17/1975-10/19/2011
Beloved To Everyone Whose Heart He Touched...
He Was My Nephew.
A Day
I took a day to cry for you
I took a day to grieve for you
I took a day to lay in bed, and just remember you
It took a day, but I could just make out your smile
It took a day, but I could almost see the twinkle in your eye
It took a day, but I could almost hear your laugh
Then, I could feel again
Then, I could breath again
Then, I could feel my heart beat again
Then, I cried some more.
I know that every day without you will hurt
I know that every day without you will feel empty
I know that every day without you we will feel your loss
But I know that soon we will see you all around us
We will capture your smile on the face of a toddler doing something he's not supposed to be doing
We will hear your laugh escape from the belly of a tiny baby, pure and true
We will feel you in the touch of our loved ones
And we will smell your hair in the morning breeze after the rain
You were more than a gift, you were a blessing. Sent to us to show love, inspiration, and strength in it's purest form.
It's time to rest now, our Sweet Angel... What a beautiful life you will have now next to God.
We will miss you, today and every day.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Purple Hand
When Ellen came out of the closet I was 18 years old and extremely annoyed with all of the headlines. So she was a lesbian, why was that anybody's business? What annoyed me more than the media making such a big deal out of it was the fact that SHE had made such a big deal out of it. You didn't see Demi Moore going on Oprah saying "I'm straight!"
When I was much younger, my Auntie Nina had a boyfriend. He was really nice and I had a little girly crush on him. We moved to California and then came back to Vegas, but when we got back the boyfriend was no longer in the picture. I asked Nina why they broke up, and she simply said "Times change, people change." I accepted that, time went on, and while I never made the conscious connection, I knew that the reason the boyfriend never came back into the picture was because Auntie Nina had moved the boyfriend out of her life, and moved a girlfriend in. This never bothered me, it simply made since. I think that's why the whole Ellen thing bothered me.
In the 1980's I never saw Nina make a big production about her sexual preference (though granted I was young and there may have been one) so why the Hell did Ellen's matter? Why would it be a big deal in the late 1990's? Quite honestly, much in part to having Nina as a part of my life, the issue of sexual preference has never really been an issue to me. (I hate the term "homosexual") To grasp the idea that it can be, or ever has been to others, is something completely intangible to me. I would like to say that others are closed minded or ignorant, but I can't even say that much about them. I think it is more that they are unfortunate. Unfortunate to not have had a Nina, a Heather, a Rob, or a Mike in their lives to show them that sexual preference does not define a person... a PERSON defines a person. How on EARTH does one piece of a VERY personal part of a persons life become the basis of such discrimination?
And that, my friends, is what leads me to my "violently purple hand". (Thanks for the terminology Laura!). On Halloween of 1969, sixty members of the Gay Liberation Front and the Society for Individual Rights gathered outside of the San Francisco Examiner building and staged a peaceful protest. The newspaper had been printing ant-gay articles against the local gay clubs and they were speaking out against it. During the protest, the people inside thought that it would be a good idea to dump purple printers ink from atop the building on them. Not cool!
Covered in ink, the protesters took the opertunity to scrawl "GAY PRIDE" on the building and stamp their handprints on the walls. (Good for them!). It became probably one of the most visible shows of pride and protest of the time. Unfortunately, when the authorities showed up and arrests were made, it was not the people that assaulted the protesters but the protestors themselves that were hauled in. There was, of course, quite a bit of police brutality toward all protesters... including women. Sickening really when you think about it.
Now, playing Devil's Advocate for just a moment... they DID mark up private property... but AFTER they were assaulted!!
I guess, for a time there was an attempt to use the "purple hand" as a symbol of gay pride but it didn't stick. I chose to use the symbol simply because it felt fitting for several reasons. One, it's almost Halloween now. Two, San Francisco is a hub for LGBTQ pride now. Three my degree is in journalism and Four... it's damn interesting!! So.. what are your thoughts?
When I was much younger, my Auntie Nina had a boyfriend. He was really nice and I had a little girly crush on him. We moved to California and then came back to Vegas, but when we got back the boyfriend was no longer in the picture. I asked Nina why they broke up, and she simply said "Times change, people change." I accepted that, time went on, and while I never made the conscious connection, I knew that the reason the boyfriend never came back into the picture was because Auntie Nina had moved the boyfriend out of her life, and moved a girlfriend in. This never bothered me, it simply made since. I think that's why the whole Ellen thing bothered me.
In the 1980's I never saw Nina make a big production about her sexual preference (though granted I was young and there may have been one) so why the Hell did Ellen's matter? Why would it be a big deal in the late 1990's? Quite honestly, much in part to having Nina as a part of my life, the issue of sexual preference has never really been an issue to me. (I hate the term "homosexual") To grasp the idea that it can be, or ever has been to others, is something completely intangible to me. I would like to say that others are closed minded or ignorant, but I can't even say that much about them. I think it is more that they are unfortunate. Unfortunate to not have had a Nina, a Heather, a Rob, or a Mike in their lives to show them that sexual preference does not define a person... a PERSON defines a person. How on EARTH does one piece of a VERY personal part of a persons life become the basis of such discrimination?
And that, my friends, is what leads me to my "violently purple hand". (Thanks for the terminology Laura!). On Halloween of 1969, sixty members of the Gay Liberation Front and the Society for Individual Rights gathered outside of the San Francisco Examiner building and staged a peaceful protest. The newspaper had been printing ant-gay articles against the local gay clubs and they were speaking out against it. During the protest, the people inside thought that it would be a good idea to dump purple printers ink from atop the building on them. Not cool!
Covered in ink, the protesters took the opertunity to scrawl "GAY PRIDE" on the building and stamp their handprints on the walls. (Good for them!). It became probably one of the most visible shows of pride and protest of the time. Unfortunately, when the authorities showed up and arrests were made, it was not the people that assaulted the protesters but the protestors themselves that were hauled in. There was, of course, quite a bit of police brutality toward all protesters... including women. Sickening really when you think about it.
Now, playing Devil's Advocate for just a moment... they DID mark up private property... but AFTER they were assaulted!!
I guess, for a time there was an attempt to use the "purple hand" as a symbol of gay pride but it didn't stick. I chose to use the symbol simply because it felt fitting for several reasons. One, it's almost Halloween now. Two, San Francisco is a hub for LGBTQ pride now. Three my degree is in journalism and Four... it's damn interesting!! So.. what are your thoughts?
Thursday, August 25, 2011
No good, rotten, horrible, very bad day!
So, cats are nocturnal animals and they like to play at night. Especially my little bitch kitty. She apparently found a ball last night and when she was done playing with it, felt the need to leave it on my side of the bed. So, when my bladder woke me up this morning at about 5:45am, I stepped right on it and I am pretty sure I hyper extended my knee. Ok.. maybe I'm being dramatic but it hurts really bad!! Luckily I didn't piss on myself, managed to make it to the toilet, and laid back down until 6:30 when my alarm went off.
I went into the hallway, woke up my daughter, and headed downstairs to wake up my son... where I was greeted with a pile of dog shit and puddles of dog piss. Personally, I prefer the smell of coffee in the morning but, hey, my dogs thought otherwise. I woke up my son and prepared to clean the filth. Well, I had just mopped the basement a couple days before and I had left the mop bucket down there full of dirty water. So as I came up the stairs I asked my son to take it up, dump it, and fill it with hot water.... only I had forgotten my knew was hurt, put too much weight on it, tripped, and spilled the dirty mop water all over the floor... and watched as dog poop slid across the tile in a mini flash flood of dirty water.
Well, then my son started bitching about how we should just lock the 15 year old dog up outside all night long because HE is sick of dog pee/shit in the morning. Um... you're upstairs eating breakfast... I am the one down here cleaning it so WTF do you care???? I told him and his sister to make their own lunch so that I could clean it up. I also told the boy that we may as well take the dog to the vet and have him put down because that's a whole lot more humane than leaving him outside all night! That pissed him off even more. I left to take him to school and I was so glad to have him out of my hair.
So, I get back 10 minutes later and look at my daughter. I ask her if she's made her lunch and she says yes. She went upstairs to brush her teeth before she left to catch the bus and I noticed that the usual mess she makes all over the counter when making a sandwich isn't there. This concerned me because she didn't eat lunch at school yesterday either. Mind you, she's 13, beautiful, and I doubt she's hit 100 pounds yet... so the idea of her not eating concerns me. I really don't want her falling into the "I'm fat" stage of life. Anyway, I looked through her backpack for a lunch and didn't find anything so I went upstairs and asked her what she made herself for lunch. She said a PBJ, chips, blueberries and a Life Water. I asked where it was, and she said in her backpack. I called her out on the lie... and now I'm REALLY concerned about her eating habits. Like, seriously considering weighing her weekly. Ornery teenager fight #2 ensued until she left.
Then, I decided to check and see if the $105 in checks had cleared yet. Well, I discovered that I had $95 in checking and they had NOT cleared yet. Fabulous. Luckily, they're checks to the schools and I doubt they'll clear until the middle of September... I hope anyway.
I had to run to the store to get some cleaning supplies.. clean clean clean when the day sucks to keep your mind off the suck. I pull out of my driveway, hang a left, make it up a block and hear thump thump thump. AYFKM?!!?!? A flat tire. I opted to go very slowly back to my house instead of stopping in the middle of the street, and figured I would just throw the spare on, get the tire fixed at Discount Tire for free, and if not then just get a cheap used tire until I can afford new ones. Yeah, not only did John take the jack so I had to be "that girl" and call roadside assistance TO MY HOUSE to change a tire, but Discount didn't have any used tires and it will be $80 for a new one, installed. Seriously? Eff it, I will drive the other husbands Hummer until payday, the primary husband can drive around on a donut.
Did I mention all of this happened before 9am? I need a shot of tequila and a penis.... and of course neither are available at the moment.
I went into the hallway, woke up my daughter, and headed downstairs to wake up my son... where I was greeted with a pile of dog shit and puddles of dog piss. Personally, I prefer the smell of coffee in the morning but, hey, my dogs thought otherwise. I woke up my son and prepared to clean the filth. Well, I had just mopped the basement a couple days before and I had left the mop bucket down there full of dirty water. So as I came up the stairs I asked my son to take it up, dump it, and fill it with hot water.... only I had forgotten my knew was hurt, put too much weight on it, tripped, and spilled the dirty mop water all over the floor... and watched as dog poop slid across the tile in a mini flash flood of dirty water.
Well, then my son started bitching about how we should just lock the 15 year old dog up outside all night long because HE is sick of dog pee/shit in the morning. Um... you're upstairs eating breakfast... I am the one down here cleaning it so WTF do you care???? I told him and his sister to make their own lunch so that I could clean it up. I also told the boy that we may as well take the dog to the vet and have him put down because that's a whole lot more humane than leaving him outside all night! That pissed him off even more. I left to take him to school and I was so glad to have him out of my hair.
So, I get back 10 minutes later and look at my daughter. I ask her if she's made her lunch and she says yes. She went upstairs to brush her teeth before she left to catch the bus and I noticed that the usual mess she makes all over the counter when making a sandwich isn't there. This concerned me because she didn't eat lunch at school yesterday either. Mind you, she's 13, beautiful, and I doubt she's hit 100 pounds yet... so the idea of her not eating concerns me. I really don't want her falling into the "I'm fat" stage of life. Anyway, I looked through her backpack for a lunch and didn't find anything so I went upstairs and asked her what she made herself for lunch. She said a PBJ, chips, blueberries and a Life Water. I asked where it was, and she said in her backpack. I called her out on the lie... and now I'm REALLY concerned about her eating habits. Like, seriously considering weighing her weekly. Ornery teenager fight #2 ensued until she left.
Then, I decided to check and see if the $105 in checks had cleared yet. Well, I discovered that I had $95 in checking and they had NOT cleared yet. Fabulous. Luckily, they're checks to the schools and I doubt they'll clear until the middle of September... I hope anyway.
I had to run to the store to get some cleaning supplies.. clean clean clean when the day sucks to keep your mind off the suck. I pull out of my driveway, hang a left, make it up a block and hear thump thump thump. AYFKM?!!?!? A flat tire. I opted to go very slowly back to my house instead of stopping in the middle of the street, and figured I would just throw the spare on, get the tire fixed at Discount Tire for free, and if not then just get a cheap used tire until I can afford new ones. Yeah, not only did John take the jack so I had to be "that girl" and call roadside assistance TO MY HOUSE to change a tire, but Discount didn't have any used tires and it will be $80 for a new one, installed. Seriously? Eff it, I will drive the other husbands Hummer until payday, the primary husband can drive around on a donut.
Did I mention all of this happened before 9am? I need a shot of tequila and a penis.... and of course neither are available at the moment.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Adult Toy Story
This particular blog may be TMI (too much information) for some family members and friends... proceed if you dare, but it is pretty damn funny!
Our first duty station was Fort Bragg, NC. As a PV2 my husband had big aspirations and like most 18 year olds had an unrealistic view of how much a dollar was worth, or how far it would stretch. He went out a few months ahead of me so that he, our son, and myself would have a home to live in.. instead of a cramped hotel room. Despite my adamant requests for a 2 bedroom apartment.. he took it upon himself to purchase a 3 bedroom house off base. I wasn't happy about it, but we made the most of what we could for as long as we could.
Our first duty station was Fort Bragg, NC. As a PV2 my husband had big aspirations and like most 18 year olds had an unrealistic view of how much a dollar was worth, or how far it would stretch. He went out a few months ahead of me so that he, our son, and myself would have a home to live in.. instead of a cramped hotel room. Despite my adamant requests for a 2 bedroom apartment.. he took it upon himself to purchase a 3 bedroom house off base. I wasn't happy about it, but we made the most of what we could for as long as we could.
After about 4 years we were in over our heads and drowning in debt. We had a car payment, a house payment, utilities, and all of the other bills that come along with being a grown up. Our monthly bills equaled about $200 more than he was earning and we had to do something to get our heads above water. When he came back from his 1 year tour in Korea he went to housing and requested that we get on post housing. Because he was back from Korea, it was considered a PCS and we were bumped to the top of the list.. The house that we got on post was 500 sqft bigger, no rent, no utilities, and 5 minutes from his work... I was so excited! AND the military would move us for free!!!
We made our transportation appointment and the movers showed up to pack our things. I tied our dog up in the backyard, bought donuts for the morning and several sub sandwiches for lunch, and kept them well hydrated with soda and beer. I also made it a point to move certain... items... to one specific area and told them not to worry about that particular pile of stuff, that I would move it myself. All went well, they packed, moved, and unloaded all in one day.
That night, as we were settling into our first night in our new home I was looking for my hairbrush and blow dryer, both of which were stored in the hall closet between the bathroom and my bedroom. As I looked around the new house at the boxes that were piled from floor to ceiling I felt a little discouraged. I SO did not want to rummage through all of them at 11:30 at night!! BUT... to my great joy, I spotted a box labeled "MASTER BED: Towels, hairbrush, toys"
YAY!! It was the box I was looking for and I didn't even have to dig!! But.. toys? Did one of my children hide some little treasures in the hall closet? No matter, I ripped open the box in hairbrush victory! There it was... no, not my hairbrush, my vibrator. Nothing fancy, one of the simple long, slender ones... not even shaped like a man.. but it wouldn't be mistaken for wall art anytime soon.
I stood there staring at it for a few minutes, wondering how that one slipped out of my tedious preparations for the movers. Then I remembered that night before (it was a good night lol) Then I was overcome with humiliation when I remembered that it was the one good looking mover that was packing up my bedroom, and h
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Memorial Day
I hopped on Facebook yesterday morning and I came across a post from the "Official Army Wives TV Show" This is what it said...
"
In less than 24 hours, that post sparked about 175 responses. Most of which were from outraged individuals chastising the administrator of the fan page for being insensitive to TRUE fallen soldiers. I was one of them. There were others that stood by the show and said that the actor "represented all fallen soldiers". I don't agree.
I wonder if those people who said that honoring a fictitious character was not in bad form have ever sat through a final roll call, heard the glass on the chapel rattle when the cannons were fired, or felt every shot fired from the 21 gun salute vibrate through their souls? Do you suppose they know what it's like to look out their window and feel the terror that comes when an unknown car stops in front of their house? Have they ever looked on helplessly as the mother of a 19 year old was presented with the flag that draped her sons coffin or looked into the eyes of the newborn baby girl that will never know her Daddy that was so excited to finally meet her? No, I don't suppose they do, because if they had experienced any of that heartache I don't believe they would defend such a callous and insensitive remark.
We live in a non stop culture, and rarely do we get time to rest. Advertising turns Memorial Day into a day of big sales... everything from hamburger patties to flat screen TV's... so I understand that it is easy to forget the underlining meaning... but seriously, when most of the viewers of that show are military related, the post was in bad taste. I would go so far as to say that it was disrespectful to the true Heroes that have fallen.
What does Memorial Day mean to most people? I don't know. I only know what it means to me, my family, and my community. I have spent my entire adult life immersed in the Army life. Yes, I sleep in with my husband. Yes, I take advantage of the day off and throw burgers on the grill. Yes, I have been known to sit outside while soaking up the sunshine, surrounded by the company of friends, with a cold beverage in my hand. ABSOLUTELY!! But I never, I repeat NEVER, forget why I can.... because I know far too well the sacrifices made that make this four day weekend possible.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find a link that lists every fallen soldier in the history of our nation so a list of those fallen since 9-11 will have to do. But, I keep those from the Revolution to today close to my heart and I am thankful for them every day.
http://militarytimes.com/valor/
"
In less than 24 hours, that post sparked about 175 responses. Most of which were from outraged individuals chastising the administrator of the fan page for being insensitive to TRUE fallen soldiers. I was one of them. There were others that stood by the show and said that the actor "represented all fallen soldiers". I don't agree.
I wonder if those people who said that honoring a fictitious character was not in bad form have ever sat through a final roll call, heard the glass on the chapel rattle when the cannons were fired, or felt every shot fired from the 21 gun salute vibrate through their souls? Do you suppose they know what it's like to look out their window and feel the terror that comes when an unknown car stops in front of their house? Have they ever looked on helplessly as the mother of a 19 year old was presented with the flag that draped her sons coffin or looked into the eyes of the newborn baby girl that will never know her Daddy that was so excited to finally meet her? No, I don't suppose they do, because if they had experienced any of that heartache I don't believe they would defend such a callous and insensitive remark.
We live in a non stop culture, and rarely do we get time to rest. Advertising turns Memorial Day into a day of big sales... everything from hamburger patties to flat screen TV's... so I understand that it is easy to forget the underlining meaning... but seriously, when most of the viewers of that show are military related, the post was in bad taste. I would go so far as to say that it was disrespectful to the true Heroes that have fallen.
What does Memorial Day mean to most people? I don't know. I only know what it means to me, my family, and my community. I have spent my entire adult life immersed in the Army life. Yes, I sleep in with my husband. Yes, I take advantage of the day off and throw burgers on the grill. Yes, I have been known to sit outside while soaking up the sunshine, surrounded by the company of friends, with a cold beverage in my hand. ABSOLUTELY!! But I never, I repeat NEVER, forget why I can.... because I know far too well the sacrifices made that make this four day weekend possible.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find a link that lists every fallen soldier in the history of our nation so a list of those fallen since 9-11 will have to do. But, I keep those from the Revolution to today close to my heart and I am thankful for them every day.
http://militarytimes.com/valor/
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Graduation
I did it. Against all odds, against the statistics, against some peoples expectations.. I have finally finished my AA degree. I can now slap a couple of bullets on my resume; AA in Journalism and I graduated Cum Laude -- with honors... I just like saying Cum Laude, it makes me sound fancy! The Facebook walls of all my friends have been flooded with images of me in a cap and gown, and my notifications have been exploding since Saturday with congratulatory words of praise. Now that the big event is over, friends and family have returned home, and the crazy is returning to normal, I finally have a moment to sit back and reflect.
First of all, what am I supposed to do with an AA in journalism? In a perfect world I would want a column in a men's magazine... like Maxim or Playboy... and I would read scores of letters from confused men. My goal in life would be to advise them on subjects involving the female brain. The world would be a better place because of me! I would settle for being a reporter. I can see myself getting a call at 3am from my editor instructing me to be on a plane to DC in an hour for a personal one on one candid interview with the President. My easy going personality and ability to make anyone comfortable would have made him/her request me by name. Maybe I could even be a confidant to the beautiful people in Hollywood, they would trust me with all their secrets!
Pipe dreams, and nothing more. The truth is, journalism is a dying industry and an AA alone truly means nothing. Maybe, just maybe, I could get a job working in the mail room at the Gazette and hopefully work my way up to a paid internship. I knew all of this going into the degree program. At the time, I just wanted a degree to know that I could do it. My entire adult life has been in the shadow of my husband. I chose that life, and I pride myself in that choice for I am married to an extraordinary man, but I wanted something to call my own.
Now that I have it, I have come to realize that I want more. I don't just want a piece of paper to hang on the wall, I want to have my own career, my own identity, my own sense of self. I want to be marketable. I want to make a difference. I want to be the person that the big shots turn to. I have been accepted to the University of Colorado Colorado Springs into the Communications program. With a BA in Mass Communications I can be all of those things. There are so many different paths that can bring me to where I want to be. I can be a public relations rep, I can be a speech writer, I can still write... ultimately, I can still be all powerful with my pen.
It's funny to look back on myself and see how I have changed. In the beginning, school was simply something to do because I could. I had goals, but no real direction. Perhaps because it took me 7 years to achieve a 2 ear degree, but now those goals have driven me toward a direction. I'm not quite ready for the real world yet, but I know that I will be soon... and when I step out into the sunlight without my training wheels for the first time I know that I can fly. Why reach for the sky when there are footprints on the moon... right?
First of all, what am I supposed to do with an AA in journalism? In a perfect world I would want a column in a men's magazine... like Maxim or Playboy... and I would read scores of letters from confused men. My goal in life would be to advise them on subjects involving the female brain. The world would be a better place because of me! I would settle for being a reporter. I can see myself getting a call at 3am from my editor instructing me to be on a plane to DC in an hour for a personal one on one candid interview with the President. My easy going personality and ability to make anyone comfortable would have made him/her request me by name. Maybe I could even be a confidant to the beautiful people in Hollywood, they would trust me with all their secrets!
Pipe dreams, and nothing more. The truth is, journalism is a dying industry and an AA alone truly means nothing. Maybe, just maybe, I could get a job working in the mail room at the Gazette and hopefully work my way up to a paid internship. I knew all of this going into the degree program. At the time, I just wanted a degree to know that I could do it. My entire adult life has been in the shadow of my husband. I chose that life, and I pride myself in that choice for I am married to an extraordinary man, but I wanted something to call my own.
Now that I have it, I have come to realize that I want more. I don't just want a piece of paper to hang on the wall, I want to have my own career, my own identity, my own sense of self. I want to be marketable. I want to make a difference. I want to be the person that the big shots turn to. I have been accepted to the University of Colorado Colorado Springs into the Communications program. With a BA in Mass Communications I can be all of those things. There are so many different paths that can bring me to where I want to be. I can be a public relations rep, I can be a speech writer, I can still write... ultimately, I can still be all powerful with my pen.
It's funny to look back on myself and see how I have changed. In the beginning, school was simply something to do because I could. I had goals, but no real direction. Perhaps because it took me 7 years to achieve a 2 ear degree, but now those goals have driven me toward a direction. I'm not quite ready for the real world yet, but I know that I will be soon... and when I step out into the sunlight without my training wheels for the first time I know that I can fly. Why reach for the sky when there are footprints on the moon... right?
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