My dad is showing a strong interest in Crossroads Community Church, where I attend. I just got home from church with him and I am doing everything in my will power to not scream. Actually hold on......I just yelled into a pillow, muffling the sounds so the neighbors in this complex don't call 911 in concern.
I don't want to go to church with him. I am better when I go a long period without talking to him. It sounds ludicrous and selfish of me. I realize that. However, conversing with him only makes me want to bang my head against a wall or massage my temples before answering his questions. He suffers from several mental disorders and that cause a chain reaction to each other. Anxiety takes over if he could run out of his sedatives or other psychiatric drugs. He obsesses (OCD) about his mood.
My seventh grade year was probably the last of times that I considered him a "father figure." I prefer to keep him "out there," just someone else to see at family get-togethers.
There is no one out there who can simply tell me, "oh, get over it" or "just make it work." Quite frankly, there is nothing to make it work. I have 0% patience when dealing with him.
I pray to God everyday as my Lord and Savior. I read the Bible and try not to let finances bind me or control me. Then I talk to him as he only has bills and an income to talk about. He never sees past numbers. Everything has a number to it. He is so inside the box that he can't see that there are four corners to it. He doesn't live life freely - he obsesses. As others can move from thought to thought or feeling to feeling he isn't susceptible to leaving such things behind. He doesn't care about my passions, only my monetary security. One time my mom told me "you sound like your dad." I stopped dead in my tracks and did what I could to completely repent my ways. When I was in college I knew I should never follow my dad's footsteps, that went no where but a circle around and around his bank account.
I would love for him to learn all about God, recite Bible verses in Faith. However, I honestly don't want to go to church with him. God could be putting me in a position to learn about the depths of patience and how He really can reach everyone, even those that currently worship their controlled little environment.
I just have to pray that this goes in God's hands because if it goes into mine the outcome will be ugly.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Economy
I will not fall prey to this economy. I will not accept "whatever I can get." I have passions and goals with one life to live. For the first time I am slowly stepping out of my comfort zone to pursue a job that holds my personal values in it. I have been a hostess, server, sales associate for retail, and a nanny. I enjoyed working each of these jobs and they always came at a time when I needed a paycheck. Now, I am ready for more, more than just a pay check.
Every US citizen should know that our country has seen brighter days. One doesn't have to look far to find someone who is searching for a job or dealing with a loss of value in their home. If a company has had a decent profit margin in the past few years it is considered more impressive than ever.
I did not major in finance, however if this country wasn't trying to "keep up with the Jones" we wouldn't have these perplexing financial issues. Of course America is out of money, we have spent it all. If saving and financing were commodities people, businesses, and the government would have more stability.
In the past couple of years of exploring the job market I have realized the most opportunity lies in the restaurant industry. An ABC news report conveyed us spending just as much on fast food and restaurants as we did 5 years ago. While citizens won't financially support their local school systems, they still dine out for a special meal. So much for art, music, and sports for students. I wonder if children can thrive off of standardized testing. This doesn't describe everyone and I welcome any debaters, but numbers and news broadcasters don't lie.
Although, I don't like that I am job searching in this economy. I refuse to be a product of this era and live for purely monetary means. My name is Sarah Bode, I have many things to learn, and people to help.
Every US citizen should know that our country has seen brighter days. One doesn't have to look far to find someone who is searching for a job or dealing with a loss of value in their home. If a company has had a decent profit margin in the past few years it is considered more impressive than ever.
I did not major in finance, however if this country wasn't trying to "keep up with the Jones" we wouldn't have these perplexing financial issues. Of course America is out of money, we have spent it all. If saving and financing were commodities people, businesses, and the government would have more stability.
In the past couple of years of exploring the job market I have realized the most opportunity lies in the restaurant industry. An ABC news report conveyed us spending just as much on fast food and restaurants as we did 5 years ago. While citizens won't financially support their local school systems, they still dine out for a special meal. So much for art, music, and sports for students. I wonder if children can thrive off of standardized testing. This doesn't describe everyone and I welcome any debaters, but numbers and news broadcasters don't lie.
Although, I don't like that I am job searching in this economy. I refuse to be a product of this era and live for purely monetary means. My name is Sarah Bode, I have many things to learn, and people to help.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
where I come from
This past Sunday we had a guest speaker at Crossroads. The highlight of the sermon was that fathers have a purpose of making their families legendary through fulfilling God's purpose by creating offspring that take on your Christian values and morals in life. We are not made to be nomads, but to have a home and a family that loves us. This is something that I am praying about as I have often struggled with seeing a purpose in having kids. I never told anyone this because I was afraid I would lose some maternal value.
However, this week the sermon made me think about what my family stands for and how I have been influenced by this. My family stands for individuality. There is no expected age for marriage, having kids, etc. I am not the first one who is single over the age of 25 and not one family member has stated, inferred, or "joked" that this is wrong. I am beyond grateful for this.
My family does not give into addictions. While working in the restaurant industry I met too many people that believed drugs/alcohol/smoking/porn were the highlight of their life. My family is nothing like that. Enough said.
My family does not hold grudges and allow others to get the better of them. We laugh too much and work hard for what we have on this earth. We like to read and get aspired by new knowledge. We go to church and we value the Bible.
I am Sarah and I am praying for my "Abraham" to be a great leader/husband/father..... because starting a family of my own is starting to sound pretty good:)
However, this week the sermon made me think about what my family stands for and how I have been influenced by this. My family stands for individuality. There is no expected age for marriage, having kids, etc. I am not the first one who is single over the age of 25 and not one family member has stated, inferred, or "joked" that this is wrong. I am beyond grateful for this.
My family does not give into addictions. While working in the restaurant industry I met too many people that believed drugs/alcohol/smoking/porn were the highlight of their life. My family is nothing like that. Enough said.
My family does not hold grudges and allow others to get the better of them. We laugh too much and work hard for what we have on this earth. We like to read and get aspired by new knowledge. We go to church and we value the Bible.
I am Sarah and I am praying for my "Abraham" to be a great leader/husband/father..... because starting a family of my own is starting to sound pretty good:)
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
One Day To the Next
What keeps me trying and persisting with optimism is my faith in God, fun with friends, and comfort from the family. No matter how old I get, no matter how innovative I want to be, no matter how independent I am I come back to these three things. Without them the other facets of life are without passion. I think we all know that anything without passion is a drag (picture yourself at the BMV renewing your driver license).
At times I have wanted money to fulfill me. I suppose I am referring to my "hefty" ING savings account. At times I have wanted beauty to fulfill me. It was so easy at the time because those are two things that I had access to. But, it doesn't take more than a few days that I am dead on the inside fueled by something that is so superficial I can easily see God wants something so much more. But, what is it?????
That is my next challenge - to find what God wants me to live off of. I am now studying the "Fruits of the Spirit." What good things come from God? God wants me to get the fruit in life from Him and not from this world. It doesn't take a psychologist to know that pornography is not a beneficial fruit (Charlie Sheen does not make a good role model).
I am not studying the Bible because I "think it is right." Although, I do think it is right, this is not the sole purpose. If this was the sole purpose I would have done it years ago. I am doing it because God has called me into a deeper relationship over and over again. If it were anyone else they would have given up. But, He hasn't, and heaven knows we still have a long way to go.
At times I have wanted money to fulfill me. I suppose I am referring to my "hefty" ING savings account. At times I have wanted beauty to fulfill me. It was so easy at the time because those are two things that I had access to. But, it doesn't take more than a few days that I am dead on the inside fueled by something that is so superficial I can easily see God wants something so much more. But, what is it?????
That is my next challenge - to find what God wants me to live off of. I am now studying the "Fruits of the Spirit." What good things come from God? God wants me to get the fruit in life from Him and not from this world. It doesn't take a psychologist to know that pornography is not a beneficial fruit (Charlie Sheen does not make a good role model).
I am not studying the Bible because I "think it is right." Although, I do think it is right, this is not the sole purpose. If this was the sole purpose I would have done it years ago. I am doing it because God has called me into a deeper relationship over and over again. If it were anyone else they would have given up. But, He hasn't, and heaven knows we still have a long way to go.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
I wrote this when I first moved to Atlanta....
Where passion was, there is no more
My synthetic ways are tearing me to the core
For eternity you are using this year to prune
But, I really want to feel liberation soon
I understand why you need to become stronger factor in my life - no matter the worries, circumstances, or strife
My feelings have given me several different arrows to follow, until my heart gave in to feel cold and hollow
"Indecision" has lead me to feel chronically ill
Not knowing what to do, I just sit still
Now there is only one question to think through
Simply stated, "What would Jesus do?"
Oddly, it doesn't mean I'm always kind
Having this faith in God gives me a peace of mind
By executing God's plan
I found my authentic self and I know I can
Love and patience, which the world doesn't provide
Is actually imperative to survive
We can take it or leave it, it's our choice
However, if you listen.... "I'm your loving Father" is God's voice.
My synthetic ways are tearing me to the core
For eternity you are using this year to prune
But, I really want to feel liberation soon
I understand why you need to become stronger factor in my life - no matter the worries, circumstances, or strife
My feelings have given me several different arrows to follow, until my heart gave in to feel cold and hollow
"Indecision" has lead me to feel chronically ill
Not knowing what to do, I just sit still
Now there is only one question to think through
Simply stated, "What would Jesus do?"
Oddly, it doesn't mean I'm always kind
Having this faith in God gives me a peace of mind
By executing God's plan
I found my authentic self and I know I can
Love and patience, which the world doesn't provide
Is actually imperative to survive
We can take it or leave it, it's our choice
However, if you listen.... "I'm your loving Father" is God's voice.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Give Me Chocolate or Give Me Death
Give Me Chocolate or Give Me Death
Hershey’s Chocolate
“Chocolate’s sensual power makes me forget I’m single”
-Sarah, 26, Cincinnati, OH
There’s a desire to make anyone unwrap more than one piece!
Do you like it milky? Smooth? Dark? Crispy? Rich? White? These are just a few ways chocolate is packaged. So, now….
Which one is your temptation?
-USA Today, January 6, 2020
As if an ad, such as this one, needed to be prevalent throughout magazines in the U.S. Every person living on American land seemed to have a palate for chocolate. With it being inexpensive, one could find a bag of Hershey’s kisses for $2.50, nearly everyone had access. When the country’s convenient serotonin inducer is chocolate quickly gaining calories are susceptible.
Dr. Owen Divenski, the US Surgeon General that was recently inaugurated as America’s doctor, snapped in his office. He threw the papers that contained a surplus of statistics across the floor. The sheets landed around his desk like confetti.
US Surgeon General after US Surgeon General have pushed and pulled with the importance to decrease obesity in America. It didn’t matter who advocated or what was expressed, the increase of caloric intake has exponentially grown for decades. The last thought that screamed in his head was, “…. And we are still fat!”
Dr. Divenski wasn’t planning on giving a few facts with the hope that America would change. He was going to take action.
“Owen, are you sure?” Betty asked her husband.
He sighs, “Yes, Betty, for the thousandth time. The prices of cigarettes have been raised several times for obvious reasons. Chocolate is also a fatal enemy. I have the honor to control this one.”
“You can control your own chocolate habit?” Betty asks fuming. After pausing, she takes a moment to inhale. Betty stands up, “Is this for the good of the country? Or about your reign of control?”
As a child, Owen’s mother gave him chocolate for good behavior and chores done in a timely manner. Dieticians would have considered him an addict before his time with no concern for moderation. Owen’s sweet tooth desired more nourishment into adulthood. Chocolate was there to start celebrations as it was also there to brighten a dismal hour. If he ever went a day without it, it must have been a short day.
At the age of 42, Dr. Owen DiVenski would be responsible for leading America into a healthier lifestyle. However, Owen was borderline obese with the knowledge heart disease may be diagnosed in a few years. He blamed it on chocolate and was determined to quadruple the price of it. This, Owen DiVenski believed will make it less prevalent in America’s diet.
No major changes occurred initially after Owen did all the legal actions to ensure chocolate would be sold four times higher than the previous year. However, the revenue, or lack thereof, in chocolate companies conveyed that more and more individuals in all fifty states were eating less or completely giving up on chocolate as their budgets didn’t allow it.
“After telling my son that we can’t afford chocolate,” the mother looked down at her son, biting her lip, “I informed him he would have to choose another candy.” Channel 5 news of Pheonix, AZ broadcasted this in a grocery store on March 5, 2020. The five year old boy stood empty handed, trying to smile for the camera.
Lindsey Schmecker was a college student at Ohio University, who anticipated her graduation the upcoming June. There were two strikes against her. She was a female and she was a college student. An up rise of hormones controlled her emotions once a month with little to no funds in her bank account. Lindsey could no longer afford chocolate as her consoler when PMS symptoms of mood swings and cramps affected her. It is certain that she was just one of the millions of women who were victims of chocolate’s ludicrous pricing.
Cadbury, Nestle, Hershey, and Godiva had become the delicacy of choice for the elite. While the middle class gave up in their financial struggle to supply chocolate products in their household cupboards.
Amy, a high school senior told a reporter in L.A., “It’s funny to hear my mom tell of wild parties from her teenage years.” She went on smiling, “to think that alcohol was such a commodity back then. Now, we try to get Friday nights started with a few good bars of chocolate.”
That year in 2020 Dr. Owen DiVenski was satisfied with his changes in society. He reasoned with himself that if the population consumes less sugar then the BMI rates will in turn decrease.
“I will be the US Surgeon General to make the change,” Owen whispered to himself while trying to fall asleep. He was on cloud nine fantasizing about all the health professionals in the future referring to Dr. Owen DiVenski as the obesity warrior.
The next morning he was vigorous with inspiration. Owen had quite the proposal for the Senate. He smiled further in thought, “It is a rare, historic moment when the government is against taxes.”
Dr. Divenski connected with all the right politicians and spoke on a lobbyist’s platform to make a change. Two years into his term as US Surgeon General Owen caused every store with even an ounce of chocolate to be taxed ten times higher than the previous year. So what once was rare became extinct as no store could effectively handle the added expense.
It had only been a year ago that Dr. Albert Pedro walked down a red carpet with his 36 family members clapping, cheering, and whistling. He was the first in his family to get a PhD.
Working towards and dreaming of days that he would finally be able to help society as a psychiatrist was the sum of his college experience. This is what he was reminiscing about as a woman in her late 20’s rambled on in his office.
This daydream was so powerful that Dr. Pedro didn’t hear her whimper, “I am just not strong enough to emotionally handle my days when I have PMS.” He snapped back into place and rested his hand on his chin. “Well,” he said with affirmation, “I will have to write you a prescription for chocolate.” It seemed to him as if this scenario happened a million times already as women all over the country were scheduling appointments in hope that health insurance would pay for their monthly treatments.
Betty ironed Owen’s clothes as she always did on Tuesdays. However, this day was memorable as she held up his pants above her head. Looking up at them she thought to herself, “These have to be 8 sizes smaller than when we got married.”
No one could help but notice that for the past two years Owen’s mood has elevated higher and higher. He liked where he stood in life, controlling the country’s eating habits as well as his own. No particle of chocolate has passed his lips in over two years. There were days he missed it. But, what kept him from calling it quits was his aspiration to see the numbers go down after the census and collaboration of Body Mass Index (BMI) medical studies.
What had slowly evolved since Dr. Divenski’s lobbying against chocolate was organized, international crime. The majority of countries who grew the cacao bean, the seed that is manufactured into chocolate, don’t consume this bean themselves. Therefore, they grow it to export it. Without the US needing this trade the value in the cacao bean has gone down, which in turn has lead the price to go down. Therefore, these countries did anything to smuggle this crop across American borders if they made money. In the year 2022 there was an absurd amount of tables, toys, furniture, tennis shoes being shipped from the Dominican Republic, Brazil, and Ghana to name a few. Most of these, what seemed random, items were stuffed with cacao beans. This put many of the former CEOs and chocolate industry workers back to work as a secret chocolate alliance formed.
Several homes and businesses across the States were allowing workers to roast and manufacture the cacao bean into the desired treat all while hiding from the government. They termed this the “Underground Choc-Road.” They didn’t find this too difficult to keep secret as long as their finished product was kept out of the public eye.
What was trickier to keep undercover were the “sweet eats.” These are the undercover facilities where outsiders could buy the forbidden candy. Every patron who entered the hidden “sweet eats” learned quickly to be quiet and walk out hiding their chocolate stash by any possible spectator’s eye. There were enough arrests made to keep those remainder workers of “sweet eats” to move as secretly as possible. However, with this being an industry that was so vast and integrated in America, police and government officials knew they could never catch every “sweet eat” or “Undercover Choc-Road” worker.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Last Mile
As I prepare for my second half-marathon I wrote this to revisit my experience in last year's 13.1 mile run.
It is the last mile. The fun, hand waves, and smiles are over. All you can hear is feet pounding on the cement, heavy breathing from those around you, and a distant cheer from a spectator as most are waiting at the finish line. Your respiratory level, that struggles to maintain oxygen intake, wants you to believe, "stop now, 12 miles is impressive." Your arches ache, your knees feel a strip of pain, your calves and quadriceps are fatigued from pressure.
But, you don't give into any of this. You become one with the runners around you and join the mentality, "This is it. The last mile. I have been preparing for weeks for this mile; to keep running one step at a time."
Then you cross the finish line as you can't believe you actually did it. Tears start to trickle down your cheeks, as they should. You just have done what you once thought was impossible.
It is the last mile. The fun, hand waves, and smiles are over. All you can hear is feet pounding on the cement, heavy breathing from those around you, and a distant cheer from a spectator as most are waiting at the finish line. Your respiratory level, that struggles to maintain oxygen intake, wants you to believe, "stop now, 12 miles is impressive." Your arches ache, your knees feel a strip of pain, your calves and quadriceps are fatigued from pressure.
But, you don't give into any of this. You become one with the runners around you and join the mentality, "This is it. The last mile. I have been preparing for weeks for this mile; to keep running one step at a time."
Then you cross the finish line as you can't believe you actually did it. Tears start to trickle down your cheeks, as they should. You just have done what you once thought was impossible.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Male Standards
I would rather have a broken heart than know that I have lowered my standards. I need a man who will make sacrifices to be with me. I am tired of making excuses for what I have personally witnessed in the male race. I will stop hanging on a string waiting, waiting, waiting....Time is money. Time is of the essence. Broken hearts can be healed, but the effects of a mistake may not. Therefore, I will take the broken heart today in exchange for a better man tomorrow.
I still don't know what it feels like to have a man pursue me. I will wait for this authentic relationship to come along. I will wait for this man.
I still don't know what it feels like to have a man pursue me. I will wait for this authentic relationship to come along. I will wait for this man.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Atlanta: Unleashed
I want the truth to be told. When I am asked today why I moved to Atlanta or moved back to Cincinnati I am ambiguous with my answer. "I graduated from Miami U.... didn't know what to do so I moved with a roommate to Atlanta... but, there was a lot of traffic there and I missed my family so I moved back here." Due to contrary belief there is a LOT more to the story. ....
In the spring of 2007 my diploma from Miami University was only a couple months old and I had no idea what to do with it. With a bachelors degree in Health Education the traditional route is to get a job teaching health in a public or private school. But, that plan wasn't adventurous and too practical. To always remain in the school system, first as a student and then as a teacher, never leaving the city I grew up in? No thanks.
This was my current dilemma as I was sitting on top of a picnic table after my shift ended at the Mt.Healthy Dairy Bar, a job I had had since high school. My phone rang and I answered, happy to talk to my roommate, Ana, after a crazy night of making ice cream cones. "I got the teaching job in Atlanta. Do you want to come with me?" she asked. "Yes" without hesitation I said. For the next two months we made plans with excitement. Where would we live? How would we get down there?
"You are moving to Atlanta?" friends and family would ask. "What are you going to do down there?" they would ask with curiosity or concern. "I don't know" I would say happily... "maybe be a substitute teacher" I would throw out to reassure them that I will do something. I was so happy about branching out, doing something radical, and I felt like God would be with me through the whole journey.
Ana and I packed everything into a Uhaul with the help of her aunt and uncle. These two people are very giving as they paid for the Uhaul, meals we had traveling south, and the hotel room we needed to stop for the night. The only moving expense I had was the gas for my car.
I can't say the first day, the first week, or even the first year was all bubbles and excitement. There was a lot of work I had to do to establish myself in this new city. First we had to unpack everything we owned into the empty apartment. We had to learn where the library was for internet usage, which bank to choose, how to transfer my money from a bank that isn't located in Georgia, where the grocery was for food, where the post office was to send bills, and the list never seemed to cease. On top of everything I had to find a job to pay rent and the school loans that would start that month.
I officially decided to be a substitute teacher. I would get practice leading students through lesson plans and my name well known in the school system as I would try to find a teaching job in Fulton County. I finally had a plan. Atlanta needed teachers and everyone knew that. My family found this legitimate enough to not doubt me too much.
My mom, who was the one person who sincerely wanted me to go to Atlanta, told me about a church called NorthPoint. She had friends who were big fans of Andy Stanley, the head minister. We had mapquested the distance between my apartment and church before I left Cincinnati. "Wow" I told my mom, "only 6 minutes between where I will live and a popular church you know of.... what are the odds?"
That first Sunday morning of living in Atlanta Ana and I got in my car to head to Northpoint. We pulled into the parking lot and I jumped out. "We did it! I followed the directions and I got us here!" I exclaimed. In retrospect, following directions is relatively minuscule. However, in that hour I had defeated my wrong sense of direction (it's worse than bad, it's wrong) in a foreign land. Although, the six minute estimate from mapquest is actually 10 minutes with everyday Atlanta traffic. I eventually learned that whatever length of time mapquest gave me with directions needed to be doubled if I was ever going to be punctual. Apparently mapquest is ignorant or in denial of the amount of cars that drive ALL THE TIME in that city and in the suburbs. I created my own catch phrases: "There is no rush hour here. It lasts all day long" and "Wouldn't it be easier if the radio stations told us where there is NO traffic?"
I suppose it was sometime in that first week that Ana needed to do some shopping. We stopped at Value City. "Now Hiring" was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door. "Should I work here?" I asked Ana. I knew my substitute teaching wouldn't start until the first of October, which was over two months away. "Just go up there and get an application," she advised.
The next day I was helping her get the chemistry classroom in order. I recall painting famous quotes, from those like Albert Einstein, along the border of the walls. Ana also had me paint a clock on the wall that read 3:30, the time school would end everyday. She was excited, scared, and was ready to start her career as a teacher filling the room with inspiration.
Sometime during this painting extravaganza I got a call from Value City. I scheduled myself to start orientation with them later that week. I am going to be straight-up. Working there wasn't eventful. I was emerged into the Hispanic and African-American culture organizing clothes. I remember talking to God about my move and being eight hours from home. As I organized clothes I hoped I could organize my thoughts and feelings. It brought an income for two months. That is the sum of my experience at Value City. Roughly seven months later they held a going out of business sale.
At the end of September in 2007 I went to the orientation Fulton County Schools held for substitute teachers. I was more than ready for this. I felt called to be in the classroom by giving instructions and sharing my personality. I read every piece of paper I was given in the manual as if it were my life sentence. I hung onto every word the experienced teacher said through his stories, warnings of what to experience, and inspiration.
After the monotony of Value City I was charged to tackle the classroom and fulfill a purpose. I was excited about the diversity I would see. Kindergartners would be cute. high school students would be riveting. Not to mention the plethora of cultures in Atlanta that I expected to see in there schools. My fist day of the job I experienced just that. I was subbing for a second grade ESL teacher. I more than likely forgot how cute they were the first five minutes of class. Between their inability to keep attention and their dislike for other students the assistant and I were more peace makers than teachers.
For that school year of 2007-2008 I was essentially in a different classroom everyday. Rarely did I start the day knowing a few students or even one teacher. I was a stranger to nearly every person I worked with. Eventually I became a stranger to myself. I was crazy homesick at times and I wasn't establishing any relationships to make Atlanta my home. Everyday was a battle to make myself feel worthwhile in an environment that didn't know my name and didn't care to learn my name as I wouldn't be there tomorrow.
Although the circumstances were dire, I followed the lesson plans thoroughly that school year and gave my best as filling in for the teacher. There were many days of just trying to get a kindergarten classroom to walk a straight line, a seventh grade classroom to at least start their assignment, or high school students from making out. Yeah, I had the most diverse job in the world. Also, with the range of schools I subjected myself to, some days I taught quiet Asians and other days I had to handle a rowdy group of metropolitan kids.
That autumn and the remainder of that year Ana was close to never being home. With her job as a chemistry teacher and track coach it took up 50 to 60 hours of her week. The excitement of her new relationship with Joe seemed to take the remainder of her time. Actually, I am not sure if she ever slept those 9 months.
This left me with an empty apartment every evening. Since we didn't have cable/internet until after Christmas I had a lot of time for reading and telecommuting with my mom. Two very enjoyable activities, but, not the ideal for adventure and excitement.
My first attempt to make friends was by joining a small group through NorthPoint. This group of ladies were all single and not one was born in Atlanta. They all had picked up their bags after wanting more than their hometowns and moved to Atlanta. Most were five to ten years older than me. I wanted so bad to fit right in with them and know that if they could do it, I could do it. However, I never felt like I was anything but the black sheep.
One school day in November I was unsurprisingly at a school I had never been to. As I was pulling out of their parking lot I realized I was in the wrong lane to turn the direction I needed to to get home. I looked to my left and then to my right. No one, that I had seen, was coming. So, I didn't hesitate to make an illegal, wide left turn. Due to the unfortunate circumstance that I was at a bottom of a hill I hadn't seen the pick-up truck coming from my left. We hit and I was the only one that could be blamed. After the air bags popped out dust was the only thing that could be inhaled in that purple Ford Escort. My door wouldn't open, so I had to throw myself across the front seat, pushing through the air bags, to get out the passenger door with the goal of breathing. I don't remember it taking more than ten seconds, Thank God.
"Who is at fault?" the police asked after he walked from his car.
"I am," I responded.
The toe truck came, I received a ticket for making an illegal U-turn, and the policeman stated, "The worst is over."
"If he only knew," I thought, "that I can't afford a new car." I was standing on the sidewalk with my purse open, revealing a book "What's So Amazing About Grace?"
"Is there any grace in this situation?" I thought.
I couldn't reach Ana in the midst of her busy school day and Joe's voicemail was the only response I got from him. With my list of contacts in Atlanta being only those two people I had no one to take me home from the car scene. The victim, with his freshly cut lip from hitting the steering wheel, and his wife drove me home.
Thankfully, Joe had two cars. This left one to him and one to Ana. I was now allowed to drive Ana's Nissan Altima until I could finance for my own car. I drove her car for the month of December to schools. Claire, a fellow alumni from Miami who also lived in Atlanta drove me home for Christmas with her.
Home for Christmas, weighing about 15 pounds heavier than when I left for Cincinnati due to my new found love in carbs, I talked to family members about car shopping. I just remember their sympathetic eyes.
I returned to Atlanta pumped and ready to get another job. "You should work at Ruby Tuesdays or something," my cousin, Lindsey, had said when learning that I was lonely in Atlanta. "That way," she went on, "you can make friends around your age."
A day or two after making the trip south I spent the morning glamoring up. This included showering, combing my hair, and a little blush. I was wearing a blue, fleece sweatshirt that zipped to the top. "I look good," I thought and then walked out the door with a pen in my purse.
First stop was Northpoint Mall. At that point in time I still had bad, chaotic memories of working Holiday retail from college. Avoidance of that industry was an understatement. Therefore, I walked to the food court where a Starbucks was. Since it was a Saturday afternoon the mall was bustling with activity and the little coffee stand had to withstand the traffic of coffee consumers.
"excuse me," I said loudly to a barista over the crowd, "can I just please have an application?"
It took five minutes before the piece of paper was in my hand. I believe I folded it in my purse, telling someone that I would return it the next day filled with invaluable information.
I hopped into my car. I had no exact destination in mind. This was all a journey. I pulled out of the mall's parking lot, heading in the direction of my apartment. As I am waiting at the light of Northpoint Pkwy. I see a Ruby Tuesday sign near the intersection. I heard my cousin's suggestion in my head. "Ruby Tuesday. Well, all right," I thought. (My heart is now seriously beating at what once seemed like a minute decision and it returned as the best thing that happened in Atlanta.)
I park. I walk in.
"Hi,"I said smiling,"are you hiring?" A simple question that I later learned is heard multiple times a day in that restaurant.
A skinny white guy and a skinny black guy are the ones to hear my cliche, yet possibly life changing, question. The skinny black guy is running from here to there, not taking notice of me.
The white guy says alertly,"yes! we are looking for someone to host and QSS."
"To what?" I ask with confusion.
He doesn't answer and guides me to a table in the bar area where I can fill out the application. He even gave me a pen to use. No need for one of my own.
After I filled it out, Shawn, a manager came to talk to me.
"Why do you need this job?" he asked.
I didn't hesitate,"I have to save money for a down payment on a new car." I explained I subbed and could work any evenings or weekends.
Shawn passed me to the General Manager. He introduced himself as Bob.
"No," I said, "I have never worked in a restaurant." Then I told of my experience at the dairy bar. "Yes, it is fast paced," I told him. Bob told me to buy black from head to toe. I even had to buy these geriatric looking shoes from Wal-Mart.
I started the next day. A sunday evening orientation with Shawn. He talked a lot, giving his own personal episodes of customer complaints in the restaurant.
I was then escorted to the hostess stand where I would train with the skinny, white guy. I learned his name was Jason and he knew weird music facts. He was very outspoken and said things bluntly.
I learned the art of smiling as people came and went. I learned the rotation chart and seating map. I learned to not sit a family with kids in the bar area. Obese people fit better at tables with chairs as opposed to booths.
After I learned the top five things it takes to make a good hostess we made chitter chatter that was lead by Jason. During this time killing conversation a tall, male server walked across the front of the restaurant carrying a water pitcher.
"Since that is my roommate," Jason said beckoning to him, "I don't seat him very much." The server instinctively made a laughing noise to convey he overheard. He headed over to us, carrying the pitcher, like he was a statue that could walk. I might have learned his name was Carlos that night. I might have not. It is hard to say. I do remember thinking that for this being such a simple job I was scared to do it. A server could yell at me if I sat them wrong! I wanted all but that.
It was pretty slow starting out at Ruby Tuesdays. A few months of long, boring nights trying to greet the guests with enthusiasm. Of course, Friday and Saturday nights were different. They could be counted on to have flourishing activity. I didn't talk to many of the servers. They came up front to look at the chart of the restaurant, inform me of their presence in their apron, and then walked away as quickly as they came.
Every once in awhile Shawn would walk up front to try and converse with me. Bring me out of my shell, as many people like to call it. I was too tired or to depressed to give much input back to him. I was homesick and worked 50-60 hours a week at two jobs that gave me no fulfillment. One can imagine how much life I had. My weight was one effect of this lifestyle. I HATED feeling those rolls of fat over the belt I had to wear to Rubys. However, I lacked no motivation to discipline myself in that regard. Eating was a comfort for me, especially if it involved ice cream or mac n' cheese. Over the course of five days I had eaten a whole chocolate cake I had made from a box. That was a low point.
After a month of starting at Rubys, in February, I was driving to a middle school in Alpharetta. I had been there before and was expecting doable lesson plans and well behaved seventh graders. In one of the many "traffic hours" of Atlanta at 8:30 in the morning I was getting off of Exit 10 on interstate 400. The right hand turn lane was moving slowly through the red light. I didn't understand if we were yielding to the oncoming traffic or just continuoly moving in our own lane. When I got to the light I stopped to ensure that I wouldn't get hit. The person behind me didn't notice and hit me from behind. I remember my head hurling a couple of inches forward. Once again, I thanked God for my habit in seat belt usage.
The driver jumped out of her car maybe to see if I was all right or maybe it was just to yell, "I thought you went!!!!" Either way, she then decided for us to pull up to the Waffle House in front of us. She called the police while I inspected Ana's Altima with a bumper hanging loosely in the back.
The polieman who showed up wasn't as nice as the one from my first car accident. He gave her a ticket for following to close behind me. We exchanged auto insurance information. This lady was very detail oriented when it came to geting mine.
"Is this your fist car accident??" she asked accusingly. I wanted to state simply,"You hit me." Somehow, I didn't slug her. Probably due to my timid instincts.
She then hopped in her car and drove away. I felt stuck and I didn't know what to do. "Don't drive this to work, get a tow truck," the policeman had said. I felt rebellious as I thought, "Two toe trucks in less than three months!" He was busy with other police men activities and pulled into the traffic, leaving me uncertain.
The rest of this day is now kind of a blur. I sat in the car for awhile trying to make a decision. I called my mom and she freaked out. I drove down the street to a BP I explained my predicament to the man working the cash register. He gave me a phone to use. I tried to dial information for a towing company to call. I couldn't figure out how to dial out and I freaked out again. Finally, finally, a tow truck came. I still can recall that relief.
Now that I am retelling this story I am realizing that I didn't have my phone on me. As soon as I got into the tow truck I asked the driver if I could borrow his phone. He came across as a very patient person and said, "yes." I had no idea where to take Ana's car and needed to call Joe for a resolution.
Spring Break of 2008 Ana, Joe, I, and Ashley, an English teacher who also graduated from Miami, packed up Joe's Camry and headed South. We spent the week in Joe's parent's home in Alabama, New Orleans, and Biloxi, Mississippi. Since there was a lot of gambling and drinking I didn't fit in all that well. I do remember my all time low point there. At this point Ana and Joe had only been a couple for a few months and had become particularly touchy-feelly. In observation to this I felt more cranky than I had ever felt before. I was sitting in the backseat of the car, screaming to God in my head. I told him that I was fed-up with always being the third wheel when it came to relationships. I was beyond sick of seeing men pour value into other women. We happened to be listening to Delilah, the radio host, on our drive home. She played, "You Are So Beautiful To Me" by Joe Cocker. In an instant I heard God tell me that I was so beautiful to Him. I started crying. I told Him, "That is all I need God, to know that you think I am beautiful."
When we arrived valet took the car and we marched upstairs to prepare for dinner. I took my time getting ready and looked in the mirror to feel remarkable.
That summer I finally got a bit of peace as subbing had ended and I was getting to know my coworkers well enough to actually laugh with and tell stories. It was all the therapy I needed to unravel from the past year. In July, Carlos returned to Ruby Tuesdays. He had taken a break, or so that was my understanding. A break from what? I didn't know. I quickly stopped questioning it as we started making conversations through slow shifts. He was hot and could easily send me into uncontrollable laughter.
In August he drove up on a Sunday night to visit me after my shift ended. We went next door and sat in Chick Fil-A's balcony, talking on a warm, summer night. For two hours he kept me entertained better than the best of comedians.
"Let's draw a picture of you, with your hair all crazy and a lot of flowers in it," he said once as he leaned over the hostess stand smiling at me.
In October we had our first date or outing. I wasn't sure which it was. However, he insisted on paying for everything, so I will call it a date. The two of us walked through a petting zoo feeding birds, goats, rabbits, horses.... This wasn't just any petting zoo. There were very few fences and the animals meandered wherever their heart's desired.
At the start of our path he threw a bunch of bread crumbs at my feet and it sent several birds from several directions running or flying to the place I was standing. I screamed. Then he started laughing, which is contagious, so I suddenly saw the humor in it and I still smile today thinking about it.
On our way home we stopped at a Waffle House for dinner. "All purses stay in the car," he said lightly as he opened the door for me. I ordered a grilled chicken salad and he ordered a hefty, greasy, meat filled omelet.
"We should take a trip, visit a place for a day and then get a hotel for the night," he said with his eyes looking heavy into me.
A couple weeks later it was the typical Friday night at Ruby Tuesdays. I had learned my place in that restaurant. I wasn't there to work. I was there to look good with hair and make-up in place. I was there to smile at customers who came in and wave bye to customers who were leaving. Of course I had to lead them to a seat, but that was just something to do while I was there. When the servers weren't taken up with their tables they would stop and chat. There was a lot of laughing and a lot of teasing. My co-hostess that friday night, Helen, was enthralled with the idea of Carlos and I being together. So, when she learned that he wanted to do something after work with me she didn't hesitate, "you leave first, I will stay until close... and he is sitting back there waiting for you!" Sure enough, there he sat, in a booth by himself.
We drove separately to a bar down the street that he knew well. As I had gotten to know him prior to this he was sticking to coffee shops after work as he was avoiding alcohol. It appeared that night though he was kicking into an old, familiar habit. We made small talk with a bit of awkwardness in the air. However, after his consumption of two large beers he began to get comfortable with me. A bit too comfortable.... "Is your roommate home tonight?" he asked slyly. "I don't know," I probably blushed. "Why don't you call her?" he stated as he ran a finger underneath the sleeve of my shirt. If that weren't enough he went on, "I just want to be alone with you." "Ok," I fumbled for my phone. After Ana answered I had to walk outside to hear her. "Ana, are you at the apartment?" I asked. "No, I am in Alabama with Joe's family... I thought I told you that,"she said. "where are you?" she asked. "Oh, at a bar," I said. "What?! a bar," she said with confusion. "Yeah, I am here... with Carlos," I stated. "Oh, um.... okay," she said.
I walked back to the table giving him the news Ana was in Alabama. I smile spread though his face, "oh, Alabama."
At 8 a.m. the next morning we drove down the street to the Waffle House to eat omelets and drink coffee. I could feel the waitress looking at me in my grungy jeans and lack of better hygiene, knowing what I had done the night before with this handsome man sitting across from me. But, it was okay, I told myself, because I had made a good friend in Atlanta finally.
"I'll call you," was something Carlos said time after time. But, he never called me. Unless. Unless, it was a lonely Friday night at a bar and he wanted comfort in my apartment. Twice, I let this happen, shaving my legs beforehand, knowing the likelihood of it. The second time happened on Thanksgiving. I didn't want to be alone for the Holiday and I informed him, as he sat at the bar, that he could come over and, "watch a movie."
I began to have a lot of thoughts and a lot of questions. "What am I doing?" "Never, would I have guessed that I would be involved in a relationship like this." "He is like night to my day. He compulsively smokes and drinks, has more mental diseases than my number of daily moods, and he doesn't go to church!"
When I went home for Christmas a month later my mom gave me a book she had found on sale. It was about how to keep a healthy, Christian relationship and eventually, marriage. As I read through the book I grew aware of something revolutionary. Sex was nothing to take lightly. Becoming intimate with another human being isn't something you just do for fun because there will be emotional consequences.
My first weekend back to Atlanta Ruby Tuesdays was slow. Both I and Carlos were off by 9:00 p.m. We decided to go to his usual bar and hang out for a bit.
"I read this book about what God thinks of sex when I was home for Christmas," I told him. "Oh, yeah.... I read that same book," he said somewhat sarcastically. "No, you didn't" I said. Then I went on, telling him a couple of details of what I had learned.
When we kissed good-bye he said in his deep voice, "I really want to go home with you." We both knew it wasn't going to happen and we got into our cars to drive our separate ways.
Two weeks later I noticed that when we worked together he know longer was coming up to the hostess stand to ogle at me. In fact, he wasn't talking much to me at all. I knew something had changed and I didn't like it.
It was a Wednesday night at the restaurant without a lot of activity. I got the news from a server named Tiffany, who was needless to say, a loudmouth. "Sarah, Carlos has been up here talking a lot to Lisa." Lisa was another hostess, who only worked two nights a week. She was an attractive girl with long, thick brown hair and a thin, curvy frame that she carried around on high heels.
I was burning with anger. "Are you trying to date as many hostesses as possible? " I texted him.
After my anger subsided a deep sadness took over. Reality was slowly and surely hitting me. I had given him so much of me, physically and therefore emotionally also. He gave me a couple meals at a Waffle House.
I turned to God, learning what a healthy relationship with a guy would feel like. To have a man pursue getting to know me. Really getting to know me. I was overwhelmed with the possibility. I was also very sad to learn that I had no faith prior to this time that I could be in a loving relationship. Did I really think that the best thing to happen would be a guy feeling me up? I read Bible verses on Love. I now had a clear distinction between Love and lust. I knew which way I had gone and therefore now only wanted to go completely the opposite direction.
I wish these lessons and conversations with God had happened overnight. They didn't. It took more than a year to get past nights where I cried myself to sleep.
That spring he had started a new job, bar tending at an upscale hotel, the "W", downtown. A year later, in April of 2010, he came "out of the closet" with his relationship to another man.
Through all the changes we kept in touch, sending messages over facebook until almost the last week I lived in Atlanta.
Through all of my personal drama at Ruby Tuesdays I enjoyed my experiences. This restaurant was overfilling with servers, managers, cooks, and hostesses from other countries or other states. It was a group of people trying to make Atlanta there home and overall knew how to make restaurant service fun. For the sake of diversity I am going to list everyone next to there country/state/city: Alex - Russia, Yildiz - Turkey, Jing - China, Deyall - Chicago, Junior - Guatemala, Colleen - Minnesota, Stephan - Germany, Charles - Arizona, Brent - Cleveland, Kenneth - Detroit, Tina - Czech Republic, Helen - Brazil, Nani - Hawaii, Bre - Pennsylvania, Yana - Uzbekistan, Danielle - New York, Dorez - Virginia. It was quite a mixing bowl, but it was a good mixing bowl.
In July of 2009 I had the last of my three car accidents in Atlanta. This was the most traumatic. Around rush hour on interstate 400 on a hot July, Friday afternoon it started to sprinkle. Traffic was braking in all four lanes. The vehicle next to me was a huge, wrangler Jeep that happened to be circling out of control. It circled about 8 feet in front of me and left me no time to stop my PT Cruiser from crashing into it. It was miraculous that no one was hurt and we both got into the shoulder without hitting any other car. It was raining hard at that time so I took a few minutes to breathe and process what happened. As soon as precipitation decreased to a trickle I got out of my car to talk to the driver in the Jeep. She was nearly hysterical and kept apologizing on her vehicle's behalf. I felt relatively calm and experienced in this matter so I told her, "You know what? I will call the police." As I was dialing 911 I heard God talk to me. I heard him say, "If you don't stop making out with Carlos you will have a bigger accident than this car crash." I with I could say that I stopped my relationship with him months earlier. But, no we seemed to keep lingering back into each others lives. After that day I could never go back to that.
The last year I lived in Atlanta was anti-climatic. No booty calls, no car accidents, and my loneliness had subsided. The previous spring I had searched craigslist for another place to live as I knew Ana would move in with Joe as soon as our lease was up. When I say "search" I mean I found it within the second listing of the first day I looked. It was a guy advertising that he was moving into his first house and wanted Christian roommates. I sent him an email, we met for coffee, and I had a room to move into be the end of summer.
His name was Nathan he was a bag pipe player and tennis coach. He was always chasing the clock trying to make his gigs and lessons in time. I went with him to pick up "Toby," a two year old German Shepard he was adopting. Nathan decided to call him "Jack" because it sounded more manly.
Carly was the second roommate that lived with us. She had moved from Texas recently and worked hard at a hiring agency. She loved cooking and airing her opinion. Her Nathan clashed several times and I always tried to avoid negotiating.
Carly ended up in a serious relationship with Dwight within a few months of moving in. They talked of marriage and she found out she was pregnant sometime after Thanksgiving. She announced it to me after my drive home from spending a weekend in Cincinnati in December.
Within a couple months Carly and Dwight looked for a house to buy. They ended up buying a house 5 minutes away from where we lived in Duluth. Everett was born in June, two months early, but is alive and thriving today :)
Before Carly moved out Lissa moved in. She was and is dating Josh, who is Nathan's next door neighbor. Both she and Josh work at gyms and appreciate lifting big weights. Actually, Lissa is a former fighter who spent many hours punching and getting a few blows herself. I have seen pictures with her bruises... it ain't pretty. Josh likes lifting heavy weights so much that he has traveled the world in order to do so. He was even at an event where Arnold Schwarzenegger watched him. However, on the recorded video when Arnold was looking Josh dropped the weight. When they are not lifting heavy objects or punching others in the face they like to watch "Everybody Loves Raymond." They were a fun couple and I always liked spending time with them.
Tony is a quiet guy who moved into Carly's room after she left. He worked as security in a Verizon building. I am not to sure exactly what he did, he essentially always left the room before any deep conversation took place.
Megan started dating Nathan that winter in 2010. She left for Korea around March 1 and was planning on staying for the next year to teach English. However, after three months she changed her mind about the commitment and came back to her hometown of Duluth.
With all these people and the coming and goings many hours were spent being entertained by the dogs. The dogs were Jack and Marley. Marley was a Chow and Lab mix that is only a few years shy of his geriatric age. He is a calm, sweet dog who has a passion for food. Jack is much younger with an obsession that chases any tennis ball and an anxiety that kept him from eating much. We laughed at Jack's persistence to shove a tennis ball into anyone's lap for hours. I usually hugged Marley more, as I thought he was the better dog.
Another blessing that year was my Bible Study. It was a group full of girls always willing to share their faith and testimonies. I grew exceptionally close to Lindsey. We had a lot of laughs and conveyed much of our pasts with each other. We did a lot of hiking and running together as we both ran the Peachtree Road Race, a 10K on July 4. We ran the 6 miles under a lot of heat with relatively good time (a little more than an hour) with about 50,000 other people. It is the largest 10k in the world. When we reached the end at Piedmont Park there was a band playing, "Saturday, in the park, I think it was the fourth of July...."
Lindsey helped me move to Cincinnati. I don't know what I would have done without her. She helped me pack the Uhaul, she drove the Uhaul, and she even stayed the night at my grandparents before catching her flight for Atlanta the next day.
I believe I summarized the essentials of what happened in Atlanta. My three years there had such an impact on me that I can't remember life before. The challenges I faced may not be deemed "traditional", but they kept life interesting.
Two highlights that I didn't further explain was my first half marathon on March of 2010 and my experience taking care of two girls with a mitochondrial disease. This family of the two girls always greeted me with my comings and gave me food to eat :)
*a few names were changed to protect the innocent (....or not so innocent)
In the spring of 2007 my diploma from Miami University was only a couple months old and I had no idea what to do with it. With a bachelors degree in Health Education the traditional route is to get a job teaching health in a public or private school. But, that plan wasn't adventurous and too practical. To always remain in the school system, first as a student and then as a teacher, never leaving the city I grew up in? No thanks.
This was my current dilemma as I was sitting on top of a picnic table after my shift ended at the Mt.Healthy Dairy Bar, a job I had had since high school. My phone rang and I answered, happy to talk to my roommate, Ana, after a crazy night of making ice cream cones. "I got the teaching job in Atlanta. Do you want to come with me?" she asked. "Yes" without hesitation I said. For the next two months we made plans with excitement. Where would we live? How would we get down there?
"You are moving to Atlanta?" friends and family would ask. "What are you going to do down there?" they would ask with curiosity or concern. "I don't know" I would say happily... "maybe be a substitute teacher" I would throw out to reassure them that I will do something. I was so happy about branching out, doing something radical, and I felt like God would be with me through the whole journey.
Ana and I packed everything into a Uhaul with the help of her aunt and uncle. These two people are very giving as they paid for the Uhaul, meals we had traveling south, and the hotel room we needed to stop for the night. The only moving expense I had was the gas for my car.
I can't say the first day, the first week, or even the first year was all bubbles and excitement. There was a lot of work I had to do to establish myself in this new city. First we had to unpack everything we owned into the empty apartment. We had to learn where the library was for internet usage, which bank to choose, how to transfer my money from a bank that isn't located in Georgia, where the grocery was for food, where the post office was to send bills, and the list never seemed to cease. On top of everything I had to find a job to pay rent and the school loans that would start that month.
I officially decided to be a substitute teacher. I would get practice leading students through lesson plans and my name well known in the school system as I would try to find a teaching job in Fulton County. I finally had a plan. Atlanta needed teachers and everyone knew that. My family found this legitimate enough to not doubt me too much.
My mom, who was the one person who sincerely wanted me to go to Atlanta, told me about a church called NorthPoint. She had friends who were big fans of Andy Stanley, the head minister. We had mapquested the distance between my apartment and church before I left Cincinnati. "Wow" I told my mom, "only 6 minutes between where I will live and a popular church you know of.... what are the odds?"
That first Sunday morning of living in Atlanta Ana and I got in my car to head to Northpoint. We pulled into the parking lot and I jumped out. "We did it! I followed the directions and I got us here!" I exclaimed. In retrospect, following directions is relatively minuscule. However, in that hour I had defeated my wrong sense of direction (it's worse than bad, it's wrong) in a foreign land. Although, the six minute estimate from mapquest is actually 10 minutes with everyday Atlanta traffic. I eventually learned that whatever length of time mapquest gave me with directions needed to be doubled if I was ever going to be punctual. Apparently mapquest is ignorant or in denial of the amount of cars that drive ALL THE TIME in that city and in the suburbs. I created my own catch phrases: "There is no rush hour here. It lasts all day long" and "Wouldn't it be easier if the radio stations told us where there is NO traffic?"
I suppose it was sometime in that first week that Ana needed to do some shopping. We stopped at Value City. "Now Hiring" was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door. "Should I work here?" I asked Ana. I knew my substitute teaching wouldn't start until the first of October, which was over two months away. "Just go up there and get an application," she advised.
The next day I was helping her get the chemistry classroom in order. I recall painting famous quotes, from those like Albert Einstein, along the border of the walls. Ana also had me paint a clock on the wall that read 3:30, the time school would end everyday. She was excited, scared, and was ready to start her career as a teacher filling the room with inspiration.
Sometime during this painting extravaganza I got a call from Value City. I scheduled myself to start orientation with them later that week. I am going to be straight-up. Working there wasn't eventful. I was emerged into the Hispanic and African-American culture organizing clothes. I remember talking to God about my move and being eight hours from home. As I organized clothes I hoped I could organize my thoughts and feelings. It brought an income for two months. That is the sum of my experience at Value City. Roughly seven months later they held a going out of business sale.
At the end of September in 2007 I went to the orientation Fulton County Schools held for substitute teachers. I was more than ready for this. I felt called to be in the classroom by giving instructions and sharing my personality. I read every piece of paper I was given in the manual as if it were my life sentence. I hung onto every word the experienced teacher said through his stories, warnings of what to experience, and inspiration.
After the monotony of Value City I was charged to tackle the classroom and fulfill a purpose. I was excited about the diversity I would see. Kindergartners would be cute. high school students would be riveting. Not to mention the plethora of cultures in Atlanta that I expected to see in there schools. My fist day of the job I experienced just that. I was subbing for a second grade ESL teacher. I more than likely forgot how cute they were the first five minutes of class. Between their inability to keep attention and their dislike for other students the assistant and I were more peace makers than teachers.
For that school year of 2007-2008 I was essentially in a different classroom everyday. Rarely did I start the day knowing a few students or even one teacher. I was a stranger to nearly every person I worked with. Eventually I became a stranger to myself. I was crazy homesick at times and I wasn't establishing any relationships to make Atlanta my home. Everyday was a battle to make myself feel worthwhile in an environment that didn't know my name and didn't care to learn my name as I wouldn't be there tomorrow.
Although the circumstances were dire, I followed the lesson plans thoroughly that school year and gave my best as filling in for the teacher. There were many days of just trying to get a kindergarten classroom to walk a straight line, a seventh grade classroom to at least start their assignment, or high school students from making out. Yeah, I had the most diverse job in the world. Also, with the range of schools I subjected myself to, some days I taught quiet Asians and other days I had to handle a rowdy group of metropolitan kids.
That autumn and the remainder of that year Ana was close to never being home. With her job as a chemistry teacher and track coach it took up 50 to 60 hours of her week. The excitement of her new relationship with Joe seemed to take the remainder of her time. Actually, I am not sure if she ever slept those 9 months.
This left me with an empty apartment every evening. Since we didn't have cable/internet until after Christmas I had a lot of time for reading and telecommuting with my mom. Two very enjoyable activities, but, not the ideal for adventure and excitement.
My first attempt to make friends was by joining a small group through NorthPoint. This group of ladies were all single and not one was born in Atlanta. They all had picked up their bags after wanting more than their hometowns and moved to Atlanta. Most were five to ten years older than me. I wanted so bad to fit right in with them and know that if they could do it, I could do it. However, I never felt like I was anything but the black sheep.
One school day in November I was unsurprisingly at a school I had never been to. As I was pulling out of their parking lot I realized I was in the wrong lane to turn the direction I needed to to get home. I looked to my left and then to my right. No one, that I had seen, was coming. So, I didn't hesitate to make an illegal, wide left turn. Due to the unfortunate circumstance that I was at a bottom of a hill I hadn't seen the pick-up truck coming from my left. We hit and I was the only one that could be blamed. After the air bags popped out dust was the only thing that could be inhaled in that purple Ford Escort. My door wouldn't open, so I had to throw myself across the front seat, pushing through the air bags, to get out the passenger door with the goal of breathing. I don't remember it taking more than ten seconds, Thank God.
"Who is at fault?" the police asked after he walked from his car.
"I am," I responded.
The toe truck came, I received a ticket for making an illegal U-turn, and the policeman stated, "The worst is over."
"If he only knew," I thought, "that I can't afford a new car." I was standing on the sidewalk with my purse open, revealing a book "What's So Amazing About Grace?"
"Is there any grace in this situation?" I thought.
I couldn't reach Ana in the midst of her busy school day and Joe's voicemail was the only response I got from him. With my list of contacts in Atlanta being only those two people I had no one to take me home from the car scene. The victim, with his freshly cut lip from hitting the steering wheel, and his wife drove me home.
Thankfully, Joe had two cars. This left one to him and one to Ana. I was now allowed to drive Ana's Nissan Altima until I could finance for my own car. I drove her car for the month of December to schools. Claire, a fellow alumni from Miami who also lived in Atlanta drove me home for Christmas with her.
Home for Christmas, weighing about 15 pounds heavier than when I left for Cincinnati due to my new found love in carbs, I talked to family members about car shopping. I just remember their sympathetic eyes.
I returned to Atlanta pumped and ready to get another job. "You should work at Ruby Tuesdays or something," my cousin, Lindsey, had said when learning that I was lonely in Atlanta. "That way," she went on, "you can make friends around your age."
A day or two after making the trip south I spent the morning glamoring up. This included showering, combing my hair, and a little blush. I was wearing a blue, fleece sweatshirt that zipped to the top. "I look good," I thought and then walked out the door with a pen in my purse.
First stop was Northpoint Mall. At that point in time I still had bad, chaotic memories of working Holiday retail from college. Avoidance of that industry was an understatement. Therefore, I walked to the food court where a Starbucks was. Since it was a Saturday afternoon the mall was bustling with activity and the little coffee stand had to withstand the traffic of coffee consumers.
"excuse me," I said loudly to a barista over the crowd, "can I just please have an application?"
It took five minutes before the piece of paper was in my hand. I believe I folded it in my purse, telling someone that I would return it the next day filled with invaluable information.
I hopped into my car. I had no exact destination in mind. This was all a journey. I pulled out of the mall's parking lot, heading in the direction of my apartment. As I am waiting at the light of Northpoint Pkwy. I see a Ruby Tuesday sign near the intersection. I heard my cousin's suggestion in my head. "Ruby Tuesday. Well, all right," I thought. (My heart is now seriously beating at what once seemed like a minute decision and it returned as the best thing that happened in Atlanta.)
I park. I walk in.
"Hi,"I said smiling,"are you hiring?" A simple question that I later learned is heard multiple times a day in that restaurant.
A skinny white guy and a skinny black guy are the ones to hear my cliche, yet possibly life changing, question. The skinny black guy is running from here to there, not taking notice of me.
The white guy says alertly,"yes! we are looking for someone to host and QSS."
"To what?" I ask with confusion.
He doesn't answer and guides me to a table in the bar area where I can fill out the application. He even gave me a pen to use. No need for one of my own.
After I filled it out, Shawn, a manager came to talk to me.
"Why do you need this job?" he asked.
I didn't hesitate,"I have to save money for a down payment on a new car." I explained I subbed and could work any evenings or weekends.
Shawn passed me to the General Manager. He introduced himself as Bob.
"No," I said, "I have never worked in a restaurant." Then I told of my experience at the dairy bar. "Yes, it is fast paced," I told him. Bob told me to buy black from head to toe. I even had to buy these geriatric looking shoes from Wal-Mart.
I started the next day. A sunday evening orientation with Shawn. He talked a lot, giving his own personal episodes of customer complaints in the restaurant.
I was then escorted to the hostess stand where I would train with the skinny, white guy. I learned his name was Jason and he knew weird music facts. He was very outspoken and said things bluntly.
I learned the art of smiling as people came and went. I learned the rotation chart and seating map. I learned to not sit a family with kids in the bar area. Obese people fit better at tables with chairs as opposed to booths.
After I learned the top five things it takes to make a good hostess we made chitter chatter that was lead by Jason. During this time killing conversation a tall, male server walked across the front of the restaurant carrying a water pitcher.
"Since that is my roommate," Jason said beckoning to him, "I don't seat him very much." The server instinctively made a laughing noise to convey he overheard. He headed over to us, carrying the pitcher, like he was a statue that could walk. I might have learned his name was Carlos that night. I might have not. It is hard to say. I do remember thinking that for this being such a simple job I was scared to do it. A server could yell at me if I sat them wrong! I wanted all but that.
It was pretty slow starting out at Ruby Tuesdays. A few months of long, boring nights trying to greet the guests with enthusiasm. Of course, Friday and Saturday nights were different. They could be counted on to have flourishing activity. I didn't talk to many of the servers. They came up front to look at the chart of the restaurant, inform me of their presence in their apron, and then walked away as quickly as they came.
Every once in awhile Shawn would walk up front to try and converse with me. Bring me out of my shell, as many people like to call it. I was too tired or to depressed to give much input back to him. I was homesick and worked 50-60 hours a week at two jobs that gave me no fulfillment. One can imagine how much life I had. My weight was one effect of this lifestyle. I HATED feeling those rolls of fat over the belt I had to wear to Rubys. However, I lacked no motivation to discipline myself in that regard. Eating was a comfort for me, especially if it involved ice cream or mac n' cheese. Over the course of five days I had eaten a whole chocolate cake I had made from a box. That was a low point.
After a month of starting at Rubys, in February, I was driving to a middle school in Alpharetta. I had been there before and was expecting doable lesson plans and well behaved seventh graders. In one of the many "traffic hours" of Atlanta at 8:30 in the morning I was getting off of Exit 10 on interstate 400. The right hand turn lane was moving slowly through the red light. I didn't understand if we were yielding to the oncoming traffic or just continuoly moving in our own lane. When I got to the light I stopped to ensure that I wouldn't get hit. The person behind me didn't notice and hit me from behind. I remember my head hurling a couple of inches forward. Once again, I thanked God for my habit in seat belt usage.
The driver jumped out of her car maybe to see if I was all right or maybe it was just to yell, "I thought you went!!!!" Either way, she then decided for us to pull up to the Waffle House in front of us. She called the police while I inspected Ana's Altima with a bumper hanging loosely in the back.
The polieman who showed up wasn't as nice as the one from my first car accident. He gave her a ticket for following to close behind me. We exchanged auto insurance information. This lady was very detail oriented when it came to geting mine.
"Is this your fist car accident??" she asked accusingly. I wanted to state simply,"You hit me." Somehow, I didn't slug her. Probably due to my timid instincts.
She then hopped in her car and drove away. I felt stuck and I didn't know what to do. "Don't drive this to work, get a tow truck," the policeman had said. I felt rebellious as I thought, "Two toe trucks in less than three months!" He was busy with other police men activities and pulled into the traffic, leaving me uncertain.
The rest of this day is now kind of a blur. I sat in the car for awhile trying to make a decision. I called my mom and she freaked out. I drove down the street to a BP I explained my predicament to the man working the cash register. He gave me a phone to use. I tried to dial information for a towing company to call. I couldn't figure out how to dial out and I freaked out again. Finally, finally, a tow truck came. I still can recall that relief.
Now that I am retelling this story I am realizing that I didn't have my phone on me. As soon as I got into the tow truck I asked the driver if I could borrow his phone. He came across as a very patient person and said, "yes." I had no idea where to take Ana's car and needed to call Joe for a resolution.
Spring Break of 2008 Ana, Joe, I, and Ashley, an English teacher who also graduated from Miami, packed up Joe's Camry and headed South. We spent the week in Joe's parent's home in Alabama, New Orleans, and Biloxi, Mississippi. Since there was a lot of gambling and drinking I didn't fit in all that well. I do remember my all time low point there. At this point Ana and Joe had only been a couple for a few months and had become particularly touchy-feelly. In observation to this I felt more cranky than I had ever felt before. I was sitting in the backseat of the car, screaming to God in my head. I told him that I was fed-up with always being the third wheel when it came to relationships. I was beyond sick of seeing men pour value into other women. We happened to be listening to Delilah, the radio host, on our drive home. She played, "You Are So Beautiful To Me" by Joe Cocker. In an instant I heard God tell me that I was so beautiful to Him. I started crying. I told Him, "That is all I need God, to know that you think I am beautiful."
When we arrived valet took the car and we marched upstairs to prepare for dinner. I took my time getting ready and looked in the mirror to feel remarkable.
That summer I finally got a bit of peace as subbing had ended and I was getting to know my coworkers well enough to actually laugh with and tell stories. It was all the therapy I needed to unravel from the past year. In July, Carlos returned to Ruby Tuesdays. He had taken a break, or so that was my understanding. A break from what? I didn't know. I quickly stopped questioning it as we started making conversations through slow shifts. He was hot and could easily send me into uncontrollable laughter.
In August he drove up on a Sunday night to visit me after my shift ended. We went next door and sat in Chick Fil-A's balcony, talking on a warm, summer night. For two hours he kept me entertained better than the best of comedians.
"Let's draw a picture of you, with your hair all crazy and a lot of flowers in it," he said once as he leaned over the hostess stand smiling at me.
In October we had our first date or outing. I wasn't sure which it was. However, he insisted on paying for everything, so I will call it a date. The two of us walked through a petting zoo feeding birds, goats, rabbits, horses.... This wasn't just any petting zoo. There were very few fences and the animals meandered wherever their heart's desired.
At the start of our path he threw a bunch of bread crumbs at my feet and it sent several birds from several directions running or flying to the place I was standing. I screamed. Then he started laughing, which is contagious, so I suddenly saw the humor in it and I still smile today thinking about it.
On our way home we stopped at a Waffle House for dinner. "All purses stay in the car," he said lightly as he opened the door for me. I ordered a grilled chicken salad and he ordered a hefty, greasy, meat filled omelet.
"We should take a trip, visit a place for a day and then get a hotel for the night," he said with his eyes looking heavy into me.
A couple weeks later it was the typical Friday night at Ruby Tuesdays. I had learned my place in that restaurant. I wasn't there to work. I was there to look good with hair and make-up in place. I was there to smile at customers who came in and wave bye to customers who were leaving. Of course I had to lead them to a seat, but that was just something to do while I was there. When the servers weren't taken up with their tables they would stop and chat. There was a lot of laughing and a lot of teasing. My co-hostess that friday night, Helen, was enthralled with the idea of Carlos and I being together. So, when she learned that he wanted to do something after work with me she didn't hesitate, "you leave first, I will stay until close... and he is sitting back there waiting for you!" Sure enough, there he sat, in a booth by himself.
We drove separately to a bar down the street that he knew well. As I had gotten to know him prior to this he was sticking to coffee shops after work as he was avoiding alcohol. It appeared that night though he was kicking into an old, familiar habit. We made small talk with a bit of awkwardness in the air. However, after his consumption of two large beers he began to get comfortable with me. A bit too comfortable.... "Is your roommate home tonight?" he asked slyly. "I don't know," I probably blushed. "Why don't you call her?" he stated as he ran a finger underneath the sleeve of my shirt. If that weren't enough he went on, "I just want to be alone with you." "Ok," I fumbled for my phone. After Ana answered I had to walk outside to hear her. "Ana, are you at the apartment?" I asked. "No, I am in Alabama with Joe's family... I thought I told you that,"she said. "where are you?" she asked. "Oh, at a bar," I said. "What?! a bar," she said with confusion. "Yeah, I am here... with Carlos," I stated. "Oh, um.... okay," she said.
I walked back to the table giving him the news Ana was in Alabama. I smile spread though his face, "oh, Alabama."
At 8 a.m. the next morning we drove down the street to the Waffle House to eat omelets and drink coffee. I could feel the waitress looking at me in my grungy jeans and lack of better hygiene, knowing what I had done the night before with this handsome man sitting across from me. But, it was okay, I told myself, because I had made a good friend in Atlanta finally.
"I'll call you," was something Carlos said time after time. But, he never called me. Unless. Unless, it was a lonely Friday night at a bar and he wanted comfort in my apartment. Twice, I let this happen, shaving my legs beforehand, knowing the likelihood of it. The second time happened on Thanksgiving. I didn't want to be alone for the Holiday and I informed him, as he sat at the bar, that he could come over and, "watch a movie."
I began to have a lot of thoughts and a lot of questions. "What am I doing?" "Never, would I have guessed that I would be involved in a relationship like this." "He is like night to my day. He compulsively smokes and drinks, has more mental diseases than my number of daily moods, and he doesn't go to church!"
When I went home for Christmas a month later my mom gave me a book she had found on sale. It was about how to keep a healthy, Christian relationship and eventually, marriage. As I read through the book I grew aware of something revolutionary. Sex was nothing to take lightly. Becoming intimate with another human being isn't something you just do for fun because there will be emotional consequences.
My first weekend back to Atlanta Ruby Tuesdays was slow. Both I and Carlos were off by 9:00 p.m. We decided to go to his usual bar and hang out for a bit.
"I read this book about what God thinks of sex when I was home for Christmas," I told him. "Oh, yeah.... I read that same book," he said somewhat sarcastically. "No, you didn't" I said. Then I went on, telling him a couple of details of what I had learned.
When we kissed good-bye he said in his deep voice, "I really want to go home with you." We both knew it wasn't going to happen and we got into our cars to drive our separate ways.
Two weeks later I noticed that when we worked together he know longer was coming up to the hostess stand to ogle at me. In fact, he wasn't talking much to me at all. I knew something had changed and I didn't like it.
It was a Wednesday night at the restaurant without a lot of activity. I got the news from a server named Tiffany, who was needless to say, a loudmouth. "Sarah, Carlos has been up here talking a lot to Lisa." Lisa was another hostess, who only worked two nights a week. She was an attractive girl with long, thick brown hair and a thin, curvy frame that she carried around on high heels.
I was burning with anger. "Are you trying to date as many hostesses as possible? " I texted him.
After my anger subsided a deep sadness took over. Reality was slowly and surely hitting me. I had given him so much of me, physically and therefore emotionally also. He gave me a couple meals at a Waffle House.
I turned to God, learning what a healthy relationship with a guy would feel like. To have a man pursue getting to know me. Really getting to know me. I was overwhelmed with the possibility. I was also very sad to learn that I had no faith prior to this time that I could be in a loving relationship. Did I really think that the best thing to happen would be a guy feeling me up? I read Bible verses on Love. I now had a clear distinction between Love and lust. I knew which way I had gone and therefore now only wanted to go completely the opposite direction.
I wish these lessons and conversations with God had happened overnight. They didn't. It took more than a year to get past nights where I cried myself to sleep.
That spring he had started a new job, bar tending at an upscale hotel, the "W", downtown. A year later, in April of 2010, he came "out of the closet" with his relationship to another man.
Through all the changes we kept in touch, sending messages over facebook until almost the last week I lived in Atlanta.
Through all of my personal drama at Ruby Tuesdays I enjoyed my experiences. This restaurant was overfilling with servers, managers, cooks, and hostesses from other countries or other states. It was a group of people trying to make Atlanta there home and overall knew how to make restaurant service fun. For the sake of diversity I am going to list everyone next to there country/state/city: Alex - Russia, Yildiz - Turkey, Jing - China, Deyall - Chicago, Junior - Guatemala, Colleen - Minnesota, Stephan - Germany, Charles - Arizona, Brent - Cleveland, Kenneth - Detroit, Tina - Czech Republic, Helen - Brazil, Nani - Hawaii, Bre - Pennsylvania, Yana - Uzbekistan, Danielle - New York, Dorez - Virginia. It was quite a mixing bowl, but it was a good mixing bowl.
In July of 2009 I had the last of my three car accidents in Atlanta. This was the most traumatic. Around rush hour on interstate 400 on a hot July, Friday afternoon it started to sprinkle. Traffic was braking in all four lanes. The vehicle next to me was a huge, wrangler Jeep that happened to be circling out of control. It circled about 8 feet in front of me and left me no time to stop my PT Cruiser from crashing into it. It was miraculous that no one was hurt and we both got into the shoulder without hitting any other car. It was raining hard at that time so I took a few minutes to breathe and process what happened. As soon as precipitation decreased to a trickle I got out of my car to talk to the driver in the Jeep. She was nearly hysterical and kept apologizing on her vehicle's behalf. I felt relatively calm and experienced in this matter so I told her, "You know what? I will call the police." As I was dialing 911 I heard God talk to me. I heard him say, "If you don't stop making out with Carlos you will have a bigger accident than this car crash." I with I could say that I stopped my relationship with him months earlier. But, no we seemed to keep lingering back into each others lives. After that day I could never go back to that.
The last year I lived in Atlanta was anti-climatic. No booty calls, no car accidents, and my loneliness had subsided. The previous spring I had searched craigslist for another place to live as I knew Ana would move in with Joe as soon as our lease was up. When I say "search" I mean I found it within the second listing of the first day I looked. It was a guy advertising that he was moving into his first house and wanted Christian roommates. I sent him an email, we met for coffee, and I had a room to move into be the end of summer.
His name was Nathan he was a bag pipe player and tennis coach. He was always chasing the clock trying to make his gigs and lessons in time. I went with him to pick up "Toby," a two year old German Shepard he was adopting. Nathan decided to call him "Jack" because it sounded more manly.
Carly was the second roommate that lived with us. She had moved from Texas recently and worked hard at a hiring agency. She loved cooking and airing her opinion. Her Nathan clashed several times and I always tried to avoid negotiating.
Carly ended up in a serious relationship with Dwight within a few months of moving in. They talked of marriage and she found out she was pregnant sometime after Thanksgiving. She announced it to me after my drive home from spending a weekend in Cincinnati in December.
Within a couple months Carly and Dwight looked for a house to buy. They ended up buying a house 5 minutes away from where we lived in Duluth. Everett was born in June, two months early, but is alive and thriving today :)
Before Carly moved out Lissa moved in. She was and is dating Josh, who is Nathan's next door neighbor. Both she and Josh work at gyms and appreciate lifting big weights. Actually, Lissa is a former fighter who spent many hours punching and getting a few blows herself. I have seen pictures with her bruises... it ain't pretty. Josh likes lifting heavy weights so much that he has traveled the world in order to do so. He was even at an event where Arnold Schwarzenegger watched him. However, on the recorded video when Arnold was looking Josh dropped the weight. When they are not lifting heavy objects or punching others in the face they like to watch "Everybody Loves Raymond." They were a fun couple and I always liked spending time with them.
Tony is a quiet guy who moved into Carly's room after she left. He worked as security in a Verizon building. I am not to sure exactly what he did, he essentially always left the room before any deep conversation took place.
Megan started dating Nathan that winter in 2010. She left for Korea around March 1 and was planning on staying for the next year to teach English. However, after three months she changed her mind about the commitment and came back to her hometown of Duluth.
With all these people and the coming and goings many hours were spent being entertained by the dogs. The dogs were Jack and Marley. Marley was a Chow and Lab mix that is only a few years shy of his geriatric age. He is a calm, sweet dog who has a passion for food. Jack is much younger with an obsession that chases any tennis ball and an anxiety that kept him from eating much. We laughed at Jack's persistence to shove a tennis ball into anyone's lap for hours. I usually hugged Marley more, as I thought he was the better dog.
Another blessing that year was my Bible Study. It was a group full of girls always willing to share their faith and testimonies. I grew exceptionally close to Lindsey. We had a lot of laughs and conveyed much of our pasts with each other. We did a lot of hiking and running together as we both ran the Peachtree Road Race, a 10K on July 4. We ran the 6 miles under a lot of heat with relatively good time (a little more than an hour) with about 50,000 other people. It is the largest 10k in the world. When we reached the end at Piedmont Park there was a band playing, "Saturday, in the park, I think it was the fourth of July...."
Lindsey helped me move to Cincinnati. I don't know what I would have done without her. She helped me pack the Uhaul, she drove the Uhaul, and she even stayed the night at my grandparents before catching her flight for Atlanta the next day.
I believe I summarized the essentials of what happened in Atlanta. My three years there had such an impact on me that I can't remember life before. The challenges I faced may not be deemed "traditional", but they kept life interesting.
Two highlights that I didn't further explain was my first half marathon on March of 2010 and my experience taking care of two girls with a mitochondrial disease. This family of the two girls always greeted me with my comings and gave me food to eat :)
*a few names were changed to protect the innocent (....or not so innocent)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
If That's What The Doctors Say.....
I was watching the World News tonight on ABC in which they did a special on the effects of relationships in the hospital. The reporters stated that doctors all over the country are witnesses to close relationships causing patient recovery. These close relationships are known to be a spouse in the hospital, a child, or a parent trying to recover. It is thought that the physical touch to a person bound to a hospital bed lowers the person's stress as positive hormones are released. Also, as they lay there in a physical crisis, lacking the ability to be productive, they feel someone wants them. Someone cares enough to touch them, be at their side, and has hope in things turning around.
Researchers found a 32% difference between those who had loved ones visit them and those who did not in their likely-hood to recover.
Most of us aren't bound to a hospital bed. That's a good thing. However, we all have stress and go through periods that lack the euphoria that seem to be only in commercials. Should we go through everything alone? Or should we embrace our relationships knowing that others want positive things in our lives?
Researchers found a 32% difference between those who had loved ones visit them and those who did not in their likely-hood to recover.
Most of us aren't bound to a hospital bed. That's a good thing. However, we all have stress and go through periods that lack the euphoria that seem to be only in commercials. Should we go through everything alone? Or should we embrace our relationships knowing that others want positive things in our lives?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Culture
I am going to be an optimist today by saying that the human race has more control than they think. Too many give into depression, obesity, debt, addictions, failed dreams.... I try to take the Bible more seriously than commercials. I try not to get into the habit of turning on the TV every evening after a busy day at work. Commercials make you feel as if you need...... everything. Sorry Cover Girl, having my eyelashes resemble stilettos won't complete me. If I just take time everyday to have faith in God as being my Savior I will be less inclined to chase other things. I don't want to go with the flow of this culture... chick flicks make you feel as if physical attraction is love, "getting laid" (by almost anyone) is fun, a job with befits and health insurance is all the security one needs in this life, if you are single you need to find someone ... today, losing weight requires 'magic' diet products because actually changing what one eats is too much work. Yeah, I don't want to listen to this world anymore.... I want my lifestyle to reflect God.
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