All The Pretty Colors

        One of my favorite artist that is still alive is Jerome Tupa. He is traveling monk that paints his pilgrimages. I first saw his work in Naples, FL. The thing that struck me the most was the joyous  and uplifting feeling I got from looking at his painting. I've always loved every media of art and was an avid painter. My art teacher use to get on to me about using too many vivid colors in my paintings. Mr. Boland informed that to make something pop you needed  mostly muted colors. Here was an artist that did not primarily mute his colors and did it quite successfully.

      His style is playful and somewhat reminiscent of Dr. Seuss.

   
My favorite works of his are the oil. This is mostly due to them having the most color. His perspective is unquie and creative. Sometimes we don't need to be around the muted to be seen.

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind"-Dr. Seuss

Jennifer Ross

       I met Jen the first day I was moving into Porter dormitory at Mercer University. She had a towel wrapped around her body and one wrapped around her head. She gave me a hug and introduced herself to my Mom, step-dad, Bridget, and Jacob. She then informed me that we were going to be next door neighbors. She was vivacious, friendly, earnest, and a whirlwind on to herself. I did not know exactly what to think about Jen and it took us a while to become really good friends. I was use to people functioning on  a 6 or 7 and Jen was constantly on an 11 all the time. We ended up in the same sorority. During finals of our spring semester mostly everyone on our hall had left. Jen came over to my room and informed me she was bored and tired of studying. She tried on a pair of my riding/driving gloves and wanted to know if I could come up with an adventure. I told her lets just get in the car and drive. Jen always liked to drive so she got behind the wheel of her vehicle. Our destination turned out to be Krispy Kreme. We got a dozen donuts and invited the rest of the girls on the hall. Jen stayed in my room later and we talked about guys we've dated, guys that wanted to date us, and where we thought we'd be in the future. What jobs we wanted to have and careers. Jen really wanted to be a mom one day and talked about the two of us being next door neighbors. 


"I don't know if I could handle living right next door to you, but on the same street or town would be nice." Me


"Well I want our kids to be able to play together and grow up together" Jen


"Yeah, I'm not sure I even want them Jen" Me


"I want us to be life long friends.... at least" Jen


"Jen, you know I've not really viewed you as a friend before but I do think you have a tremendous heart and I would like to be your friend now." Me


"Yes, I know that you didn't always like me, but I'm glad we can put it behind us and be friends now" Jen
  
    I did not know at the time if I really wanted to get married or not and for that matter have children. There were still some issues with my parents divorce that I was trying to work out and I don't commit myself to something unless I'm sure it's what I want and I have the gumption to see it through. I've always tried my best to be honest with people. I'm a terrible liar and I'm okay with not having a talent at it. Jen was a lot better friend to me than I was to her in return. A group of us went to Orlando for Halloween Horror Nights. We decided to drink before we went in which was a huge mistake. Jen got caught and was banned from Universal Studios for a year or two.

          The rest of us went and had a good time. Jen and I made plans to go back to her home for St. Patrick's Day. Her family hailed from Savannah, Ga. We both bonded over asking the wrong guys to formal. I was able to get out of going with my initial date where he put me on speaker phone to break up with him in front of his frat brothers. My date for the event ended up being wonderful (even if he was significantly older :) and I was really happy with my decision. Jen did not want to hurt the guy's feelings and therefore went with him even though he was a jerk to her the entire time. She was incredible at sticking up for her friends but she had yet to develop standing up for herself. Christmas break was generally a pretty hectic time for me. My birthday, Christmas, Christmas parties, and seeing divorced parents does not leave a lot of down time. I found out that Jen was shot on Christmas. It actually took place late Christmas Eve. 
          The message that was sent out was that she was okay and was in the hospital. She would not be coming back to school the following semester but she was planning on coming by and seeing everyone. A few of her friends had gathered at the hospital and were sending updates. I was torn. I was suppose to go down to Cape Coral, Fl to see my family. Every report I got was that she was doing well. I decided to go to Cape Coral, FL. On New Years Eve my phone started to blow up. I knew it was not good news. I checked a few of the messages and I was asked to call them back. I went online and read that she had passed. The rest of the time was a gray haze. My parents tried to comfort me but I did not feel like I could talk to anyone. It just seemed so unreal to me. I also felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, for not being there, and for not being a better friend. She was 19 when she died and in the brief span that I knew her she taught me a lot about friendship and being open. I like to think a part of Jen is always with me, encouraging me to live my life to the fullest and going after what I want. Reminding me that life is precious and to acknowledge and spend time with people that I love and strive to become the best person I can be in every aspect of my life. Her light may have been blown out but I always carry a flame with me.


"The only way to have a friend is to be one"-Ralph Waldo Emerson


"Think where mans glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends" -William Butler Yeats


"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself plainly when you have need of him"- J.K. Rowling

Not So Cool Runnings

       Running and I have come to an understanding over the years. I've never put a great amount of pressure on my performance and it often brings me joy. This was not always the case. Growing up I was extremely active. I enjoyed ballet, soccer, swimming, and riding my bike. When I got into middle school I added cheerleading to the list. One of the ways that we were punished was running. I remember thinking how could anyone ever really enjoy running? Then soccer season started. I had an issue running a solid mile, I'm not really proud of admitting this but it beez the truth. I normally played fullback which did not require me to run the entire time but the coach wanted me to play halfback. I knew that I had to work on my running. A lot of the people in my family are marathon runners and have qualified for the Boston Marathon. My step-dad also loved to run. He told me one of the ways to conserve energy was to not use your arms when you run. This made baseball practice a little more enjoyable for the guys.

         Matthew let me know that they had nicked name me "Wonder Woman" because I would not move my arms when I ran and would just hold my hips. I told him that I was trying to conserve energy so that I could go further. He let me know that it looked silly and I might want to rethink my running technique. I got various coaching techniques from other coaches. One of our football coaches that went to my church, Mr. Wilhelm, talked to me after youth group about why I was running without moving my arms. I explained that it was suppose to help conserve energy. We talked about various running techniques and building endurance. He told me it did not matter how slow I was going as long as I was going. I took this to heart and went extremely slow in my runs. Mr. Wilhelm took it upon himself to be my running coach. He'd show up at soccer practice and stage himself at various intervals during our long runs shouting out instructions.
"Stephens, your stride needs to be longer"

"Stephens, you can go faster then that... come on..."

"haha, nice face, use that anger.... AND USE YOUR ARMS"

        I was less than appreciative of this extra attention especially since the rest of the soccer team wanted to know why he was calling me out on my runs. I worked on my running during the off season and slowly it got easier and I could go longer and faster. It took work and serious dedication and I could tell a difference if I skipped a week. My senior year I was recruited to run on the cross country team. I was allowed to just show up for meets and run because my schedule was already full. I was doing dance four or five days a week. I was not the fastest girl on the cross country team but we qualified for state and I was the second or third fastest girl on the soccer team. I still want to qualify for the Boston Marathon.

“Success isn't how far you got, but the distance you traveled from where you started.” - Grant M Bright

"I run because it's so symbolic of life. You have to drive yourself to overcome the obstacles. You might feel that you can't. But then you find your inner strength, and realize you're capable of so much more than you thought." 
--Arthur Blank

How Willie Mae met Perry and Bob met Joan"

         I’ve always loved hearing stories about how couples met. It’s one of my favorite parts about the movie “When Harry Met Sally”. My dad’s grandparents met when my grandmother moved to Atlanta with one of her friends from Lakeland. The governor at the time was from Lakeland and was very good friends with my great-grandmother. He offered my grandmother a position as a secretary at the Capital. My grandfather had graduated from Georgia Tech at the time with two licenses. He was a civil engineer and a surveyor. He had an office in the same building as my grandmother. Willie Mae had to type up his transcripts. One day she had enough and marched into his office when she knew he was in there and let him know that either he was going to spend more time on his penmanship or he could type up his own documents because she was tired of deciphering his chicken scratch. My grandfather had never met anyone like her and he never would again. He loved her “spirit” and her looks and intelligence did not hurt either.

          My mom’s parents met at a party on New Years. My grandfather was the escort of his friend’s sister. He was helping out his friend because the girl had been broken up with a few weeks previously and did not want to go without a date to the party. My grandfather Bob was very handsome and therefore she found him more than an adequate substitute. My grandmother thought my future grandfather was a jerk because he was coming on to her when he had a date. My grandfather was persistent and eventually after a few weeks and a lot of explaining took my grandmother out on a date. They dated for about six months and then got married. My grandfather would go outside the car to “check the tires” when he needed to pass gas. Joan thought he must have very bad tires… but after they were married he stopped and she thought he should go to the doctor because she never experienced something that smelled so awful in her life.

   

    

New Orleans, Hurricanes... Tattoos... Oh My!

        My senior year of high school we went to New Orleans for fall break. The first night there after checking into our hotel we went to go look for a restaurant. My Mom had been told by numerous people "do not go to Bourbon Street after dark". Where did we end up eating? "A Streetcar Named Desire" on Bourbon Street. I loved the funky fun vibe of New Orleans. We walked around and then went back to our hotel. I was in cross country at the time so in the wee hours of the morning Jonathan and I went running. It was hilarious seeing people crawling out of the bars. Every time we went on a vacation we were allowed to pick out one present for ourselves. My sister wanted a hurricane from Bourbon Street. Jacob got a stuffed animal from the aquarium and I wanted a tattoo. Needless to say my Mom was less than thrilled with Bridget and my selection. We ended up getting our way but it was not till the tail end of the trip; which in my cases was quite fitting.
      We ate at great restaurants and heard wonderful live music. Finally, after many hours of trying to be talked out of my idea I was told that I could get my tattoo. We finished eating dinner and Jacob and Jonathan went back to the hotel while Bridget, Mom, and I went in search of a tattoo parlor. I'm not really sure what possessed me to want to get one. I was the only one in my immediate family who would have one. I just knew that I wanted it. We finally found one named "Forbidden Ink". It probably was one of the most sketchiest establishments I've ever been in. There were about five large guys in a group that were gathered together in a corner. They definitely gave off the impression that they were in a gang. There was a guy that was older with a grey greasy ponytail, piercings, and arm sleeves snoring loudly in an arm chair. He was wearing ratty jeans, stained wife beater, and black leather vest. There was one tattoo artist that was working painfully slow on one guys Chinese characters. My sister and Mom looked at me with a look that said, "yeah, let's get out of here, NOW." I knew that I had to appear strong and resolute about getting my tattoo here and now even if I was freaking out on the inside. The one artist took a break from her work and approached our little group. She introduced herself and then we heard a really loud snort from the sleeping man. He was up and out of chair and walking up to us.

    He was the owner of this fine establishment and he wanted to know what tattoo I wanted. Now, the only reason I was permitted to get the tattoo was because it would only be seen by who I wanted to see it. I told him that I wanted a four leaf clover and where I wanted it. We talked about the design and size. The female artist let the owner know the group of men where there before we were. He walked over to where they were and spent five minutes with them and then slapped J and T on each of one of the members arms.

"Um, nah nah... I'm T. J. not J. T.".... gang member

"It doesn't really matter..." tattoo man

       The lady went back to torturing the guy that we walked in on her working on by the speed she was going I'd guess he was there for hours. It was now my turn. I'd taken dance for 13 years so nudity never really bothered me but I was far from comfortable unzipping my pants in front of the gang members and the rest of the motley crew. Luckily, I only had to show a little bit of butt cheek skin. The tattoo artist warned me that if I moved I'd have a permanent mistake. I held on to my Mom and sister's hand. I was not going to move. I felt the needle and I was surprised how much it did not hurt. It took less then five minutes for him to do the outline and the two colors. The gang members stood there gawking with what I detected as a hint of respect with how well this preppy young lady was handling her tattoo. I've always had a very high tolerance for pain, something that has come in handy.

     The tattoo was wrapped up and I was done. I thanked the man who did it and as I walked by the gang they told me way to go and other positive acknowledgements. I was glad it was over. My little brother could not understand why I would purposely want to endure pain. I'm still glad that I did it to this day because it was definitely a bonding experience and I enjoy having a lucky hinny.

The Frog Prince

          Once upon a time at a girl scout pool party many moons ago I met a frog. It was a glorious day because it was the first social event where I was not required to wear swimmies. A few of the parents ventured into the pool to cool off but most of them were enjoying fruity drinks in the shade. One of my fellow Daisy spotted a frog in the pool. Most of the girls freaked out. I've never been afraid of frogs though I would rather not cross the path of a snake. After a few minutes with my stellar swimming ability I was able to catch it. I was extremely proud and climbed out of the pool.

      One of the parents yelled "You should kiss it." "It might turn into a prince, just like in the story." There were a few people who agreed and some of the parents argued against it. I stood there with the frog in my hand with a million thoughts running through my head. If I kissed him and he became a prince we were far too little to be married. He would probably have to go back to his kingdom. Every fairytale I had read or had been read to me normally took place in Europe or some where exotic. What if I did not like him? Did I have an obligation to stay with him since I was the one who turned him? If he lived far away would he stay with us until he was reunited with his parents? How long has he been a frog? Would his transformation be like my favorite movie at the time "Beauty and The Beast"? I hoped he knew English and would go back to his previous diet before he became a frog. It would be cruel of me not to release him from his frog like state? I could hear some of my fellow Daisies complain that they wanted a prince to kiss. I felt a tremendous amount a of pressure as every eye was on me as I bent down to kiss the frog.

     After the kiss nothing happened. There was a great amount of laughter and clapping from the adults. I gave the frog a few more moments to transform but once it became evident that nothing was going to happen I felt humiliated. I let the frog go into the yard and went back into the pool.

   The lesson I learned on that day was you better like what you are kissing "as is" because it's not going to change into what you want it to be after a kiss.

Titan

       Titan, to put it quite frankly was the best cat in the world. My mom decided that we should get a cat, not just any cat but an orange tabby cat. Mrs. Dukes, one of my mom's friends, cat had a litter of kittens. She told my mom that we could have any one that we wanted. When the kittens were old enough to be seperated from their mom we went over and played with them.  I believe my mom said that we were just looking and that we would not be taking any of them home. One thing to know about my mom is that she is very tender hearted when it comes to animals. 
      There were a few male tabbies in the group. One of them happened to be Titan. I remember thinking he was the most intelligent out of the group because he would mirror me. He responded well to Bridget, Mom, and I so we decided that he would be the newest addition to the family. We went to the pet store and got supplies for him. The following day we took him home. When Bridget and I would go climb trees he'd wait for us at the bottom. 

        He would walk with us to our friends house and if we did not want to play with him he'd wait on their yard until we were done playing and then walk with us back. Titan would go for walks with us to the Burkes house which was a few blocks away. The Burkes loved Titan and he inspired them to get a cat of their own. 

     The cat instinctually knew when you were not feeling well and would stand guard purring until you were okay. I got sick for a week and Titan never left my side. He did the same thing for every member of our family. In the brief spance of his life he taught me a lot about loyalty and love. 

"A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary? " John Grogan