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

Healing Kisses

      One of my favorite pastimes with my grandparents was going fishing. We would go out to Stone Mountain and fish there. One time my sister and I went with our dad and grandfather. This was after our grandfather had his first stroke so his mobility was limited. This often frustrated him. We left really early in the morning and about mid afternoon we had caught about five brim. I really really wanted to eat them. My dad said “ we have to throw them back… they are just youngins like you two.” This statement personified them for us.   I noticed that they had injuries by their mouths. I pointed it out to my dad and he said “yes, that’s from the hook”.

       I felt horrible. How could I rectify this atrocity I had just done?!  I had personally injured this animal. Five minutes before I was ready to build a fire and eat it and now I was on the verge of tears for these brim. The only solution I could come up with was the magical healing power of a kiss.  I suggested this idea to my dad. My sister seconded this idea because she felt sorry for the fishes.  My Grandfather let out a burst of laughter. I could not believe he thought it was funny that we were trying to help these fish. I let him know that this was a very serious matter. This made him laugh even harder. My sister and I could not believe how harsh my dad was being by denying us the ability to cure these animals.

      My dad was definitely stuck in a hard spot. He thought the notion was funny but also allowing Bridget and I to kiss the fishes raised some health concerns.

“Girls, I’m not sure that’s a sanitary idea. These fishes are not really safe to kiss.”-Dad

“We won’t kiss them on the boo boo…. just close Daddy.”-Bridget

“We have too”-Bridget

“Yes, yes…. We have to… maybe dad you need to kiss it too?”-Me

“NO ASHLEY, Ugh, well I guess you girls can kiss the fish….” –Dad

     Dad would pick up a fish out of the bucket with a look of disgust on his face and Bridget and I would alternate between kissing the fishes depending on who caught it.

     My grandfather was laughing so hard during this time. I don’t think he stopped laughing until we got back to my grandparents’ house where he was then able to share the story.

My Great Grandmother Leona

            I do not really remember a lot about my great grandmother. She was a fierce little tigeress. She always drove a cadallac and in her old age walked with a cane. She owned a lot of property and oversaw the "farm" in Lakeland until her very end. She was an incredible business woman.  My aunt Vicki recently told me a story about Leona. Vicki was playing out near some of the crops when one of the field workers yelled "snake". She grapped my dad and uncle Richard and ran in the opposite direction. Leona was talking with the overseer and walked over to her car and reached in her glove box and pulled out her pistol. She went over to where the rattle snake had been spotted and shot the snake dead between the eyes.

         The only firm memory I have of her was when she came down to Thomasville, GA. I was very little and I was jumping on the couch in the sunroom which was expressly forbidden behavior. She sneaked up really quietly and right when I was mid launch asked me in her southern drawl "just what do you think you are doing? You're not allowed to jump on the couch." I was shocked and a little angry because I did not hear her come in. Once I landed I assessed that we were the only two people who had witnessed what I had just done. I thought she was just as much in the wrong as I because she had sneaked up on me. I turned to her and said "this is not your house... you cannot tell me what to do". My words surprised us both. If I was not going to be in trouble for jumping on the couch I was definitely going to be for talking back to an elder. We both stared each other down and then she burst out laughing and said.

 "You have a lot of spunk kid. . . it's going to come in handy when you're older. I'm not going to tell your parents what I saw.... just don't do it again."

Then she walked out.

Sloth Man

          One of my favorite games to play is what animal would this person be. It gets a bit tricky when they resemble one animal  but behave like another one. Luckily, one of my coworkers is a full blown sloth. He moves like a sloth, talks like a sloth, and behaves like a sloth. Today I got an email from him asking what my extension happened to be. Every Monday we are sent an email with everyone in the companies extension and I had just literally seen him 10 minutes ago when he was recapping his Supper Bowl experience.

"Yeah, I didn't care what team won but the cooler was placed next to me so that was nice..."-Sloth

      He stood there for five minutes not saying anything. . . just blinking... slowly.... then made the arduous journey back to his desk. Then I got the email asking for my extension. I wrote him back curious to find out if he had been wearing depends so he could enjoy his ideal location uninterrupted. He's really a nice guy with just sloth like tendencies.

"I wish I could get paid to take a nap everyday.... that would be nice...." -Sloth

"When you are out there running... think of me... I'll be in bed probably not planning on getting out till at least the afternoon"-Sloth

"This picnic was a nice idea... I just don't know why they placed the food so far away from the sitting... it makes it a pain to go back and get more...."-Sloth

"Ugh... I hate to run.... why do you like to run?!?.... who really likes to run.... I like to take naps and... float..."-Sloth

       In my freshman FYX program we were suppose to pick an animal for everyone in the class. Most of my classmates said that I would be a peacock. My professor chose a magpie and I like his assessment the best.

Boredom - Not in my vocab

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.  ~Henry David Thoreau



      I do not remember spending much time indoors when I was younger. If there was light outside that's where I would be. I can honestly say that I've never been bored. There is always something to ponder, play, and create. Growing up we learned to entertain ourselves. My sister and I kind of viewed the TV as a last resort only to be used when there was not another game to play and it was dark outside. Normally, at family functions we would put together a song and dance or a play. My cousins that were close to the same age would select a song and workout a routine to present to the adults. 
     It's hard for me to be really captivated by something on the TV. I do enjoy movies, reading, sporting events, plays, ballets, and concerts. I love spending time with people that have the same exuberance for life. Who are not afraid to appear silly. They see lava instead of the floor, create their own song lyrics, and can turn any event in to an adventure. 
     One of my favorite memories of my little brother is when we went to go see Pearl Harbor at the movie theatre. Jacob was three or four at the time, got understandably bored and decided to become a T-Rex. My sister and I found this hilarious. He got out of his seat and started walking the aisle. His little blond head bobbing up and down between the row of seats. He toned down his roar to movie mode where you could just barely make it out over the actors. My parents were not pleased and after 10 minutes he was firmly told to get back in his seat. He ignored them and was popped on the butt. He was outraged. Jacob informed everyone that you were not suppose to spank dinosaurs and most certainly not a T-Rex. 
     
"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power to that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared."
J. K. Rowling

If you want to date John Stamos. . .

         My room was painted in time for me to go run and enjoy some Super Bowl festivites. While I was painting I remembered some solid advice my Mom once told me.

"Ashley if you want to date John Stamos do not say yes to Willy Nelson". - Mom

      The setting was the eighth grade Junior National Honor Society trip to Washington, D.C. The ratio of girls to guys on the trip was 3 to 2. We had all been told perviously that on one of the last nights of the trip we were going to go to an event where the lads would need to escort the ladies. All the girls wanted to not be one of the five girls without an escort. It's silly looking back on it now but it was an extremely important event at the time. My middle school crush, Matthew, was on the trip and I really really really wanted him to ask me. His best friend had told me that he was planning on asking me to the event. He was constantly around me the majority of the time but he never mentioned the dinner.

      I knew that Brad, really liked me and was planning on asking me to the dinner. I never encouraged his affection. I've never been one of those girls that likes a guy and then has a backup always waiting in the wings. My Mom was on the trip and he decided to ask her permission before asking me. My Mom let me know of his intent and I asked her if she discouraged him?

"Well, I said.... hmmm... well that is thoughtful of you Brad but I think she is planning going with someone else."-Mom

"Good... then what happened"-Me

"He said not if I ask her first... then he walked off." - Mom

     It was two days before the dinner and my crush had yet to ask me. Brad came up to me during the middle of the day and asked in front of a group of my friends if I had plans to go with anyone else to the dinner. I told him no and he asked me if I would go with him.  I was a bit annoyed because he was asking in a group setting and I did not want to hurt his feelings and I did not want to be one of the unescorted. I told him yes. He then proceeded to tell everyone that he was escorting me. In typical slacker guy fashion this got the rest of the guys to ask the girls.

    Matthew came up to me later on that afternoon and asked if Brad was really escorting me. I told him yes that I had agreed to go with Brad. He said that it was a shame and did I think I could get out of going with him because he had planned on asking me. I told him I really didn't think so because he had told everyone on the trip. Matthew then told me who he then was planning on escorting to the dinner. We got back on the buses and I wanted to cry. I kept it together until we got back to the hotel.

    I went directly to my Mom's room that she was sharing with my cheerleading coach Ms. Cheryl, whom I adored. I started crying and told them the sordid tale. My Mom and Ms. Cheryl both tried to be sympathic. Then my Mom told me.....

"If you want to date John Stamos."

"You do not say yes to Willy Nelson."

                                      (this is a slight exaggeration... he really wasn't that bad)


     Ms. Cheryl busted out laughing. In the midst of being in the depths of despair; I could even see the humor. My Mom then proceeded to tell me that it was not the end of the world. It was only one night and that I should never settle just to have a date. I've followed this advice ever since.

"And I promise I'll never do it again. That's the one good thing about me. I never do the same wrong thing twice."- Anne Shirley

“Have the courage to say no. Have the courage to face the truth. Do the right thing because it is right. These are the magic keys to living your life with integrity." W. Clement Stone

Dr. Bean. . .

      I believe we all have a Dr. Bean in our lives. Someone who shakes you up and makes you doubt yourself. I met mine my freshman year at Mercer University. He was my calculus professor and he somewhat resembled a mole. His face was large and circular and he had tiny eyes that blinked a lot that where magnified behind large thick glasses. Bean was the perfect name for him because that's what his body resembled... a giant non-defined bean.

      After the first 10 minutes of writing on the board a sweat stain started to form on his back. When he was done with our hour long class his entire shirt was saturated. I had never seen anyone sweat so much without doing anything really athletic. He addressed the sweating issue right before class was over and said that he had to keep spare shirts in his office because he could not make it through a class without being soaking wet. After three weeks we had our first exam. I did rather poorly according to my usually standard. I was unable to finish in the allotted time. I asked the professor if I could speak with him after class. We scheduled a meeting time in his office. He wanted me to complete the missing test questions timed and on my on. I did exactly as he suggested. I viewed professors as demi-gods, whom were the gate keepers of enlightenment, at this time in my life. 

      I gave him the paper at the beginning of our meeting.  I was nervous as he looked over it and told me that everything was correct. Then he started making inquires as to what school I went to previously and my family. He also wanted to know what my major was and what I intended to do with my life. The following words out of his mouth completely shocked me.

"Well, Ashley... you are a beautiful girl.... and you come from a good family.... my suggestion would be to drop this course and focus on an easier career path. I wish I had the opportunities that you do but I don't think you are smart enough to be a serious scholar and pass this course."

       I sat there demoralized. I should have automatically come to the conclusion that he was bat shit crazy. I did not.... I let his words sink in and make me question everything about myself. I thanked him for his time and left. It's not like I've dealt with cheerleaders all my life in fact quite the opposite. I wish I had done what I had always previously done and set out to prove the person wrong. It did not matter what anyone else told me if I thought his words of my inadequacy were true. It took me longer than I would have liked before I came to the conclusion that the only person who really knows what I am capable of is myself. 

“There is so much about my fate that I cannot control, but other things do fall under the jurisdiction. I can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I can read and eat and study. I can choose how I'm going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life-whether I will see them as curses or opportunities. I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all, I can choose my thoughts.” 
― Elizabeth Gilbert

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
Eleanor Roosevelt

Swinger of Birches

   I use to love climbing trees. It was thrilling to test my own limbs strength and see how high I could climb. I never was afraid of falling or what would be on the next branch. On the rare occasions I did fall it did not stop me from going back and trying again. By simply climbing I could escape what was grounding me. Every branch held the promise of reaching a place I've never been. One poem I instantly connected with was "Birches" by Robert Frost.

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice storms do. Often you must have seen them 5 
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells 10 
Shattering and avalanching on the snow crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed 15 
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. 20 
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter of fact about the ice storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, 25 
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them, 30 
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was 
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise 35 
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. 40 
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs 45 
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May not fate willfully misunderstand me 50 
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk 55 
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
-Robert Frost


     Over the years this poem has spoken to me at different junctions in my life. One message is finding your "happy place" where you are able to transcend. I've found mine in wonderful company, exercising, reading a great book, art, and music. I'm content with frequently visiting my nirvana but the world moves on and so must I.

Letting Go. . .

     When I was very young I use to believe stuffed animals had emotions. It was pretty traumatic for me to give up any of my toys. I would spend what felt like a lifetime going through them all and deciding which ones to give up. I was given two large trash bags to fill one day a few weeks before Christmas. I tried to debate with my parents on the necessity of “getting rid of them”.  I was repeatedly told they were going to a better place. How could there be a better place than my playroom?

    I rode with my Mom to Goodwill; convinced that I could persuade her to see my side of the argument and I would be able to keep all my old toys and still get all the new toys I was about to collect for one of my birthday parties and Christmas. When we arrived at the Goodwill I was not pleased. Mom informed me that she had been getting rid of my toys for years… and I barely ever noticed. I was paying attention now and this bit of information did not help her cause. I did not offer to help unload any of the plastic trash bags. I sat there hoping for some type of miracle.

       My Mom was unloading the garbage bags from the vehicle with my sister Bridget, when I car pulled up. A woman and two little kids got out of the car. The lady came over and talked privately to my Mom. After a few minutes my Mom started bringing the bags over to their car and the kids started going through the toys. The little boy grabbed one of the teddy bears that had been particularly hard for me to give up and started hugging it and smiling. My Mom explained on the car ride home that the lady had told her that she did not have enough money for presents this year so they were going by and seeing if anyone had left any donations. Bridget and I agreed that they would have probably stolen the toys or whatever was in the bins since it was after hours. My Mom started crying because of her compassion for the lady, I cried because I was sad and happy, and Bridget cried…. because…… I’m not certain…. She just did. Letting go of material things was not such a struggle after that night.

Checkmate . . .

My dad has said to me a few times “Ashley, I’ll give you a paddle, whatever you need, but I’m hesitant to do it when I see you using it to paddle as fast as you can over Niagara Falls.”

    This normally was in reference to me using my time poorly. One of those ways was “helping” user “friends”. It took me a while to recognize these people, because I always want to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Though over time their motives are not so easily hidden. In the broad picture they may be great. They come from a great family; they can be funny and charming, engaging and intelligent. Then the vortex opens and they try to make you solely responsible for all their problems. This person who seemed to have it all together and was functioning fine before you met them now needs you to devote all your time to their issues that… never… end.  They also try to keep you down and build you up in a manipulative ploy to keep you insecure and backhandedly appreciated. Sometimes bad things happen and we feel slightly insecure and we need our friends.

     This person wants you to be their audience for all the drama that constantly surrounds them. They have no real emotions concerning you besides what you have, and the time you can give them to inflate their fragile ego.

“It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company.”

George Washington

     Their negativity slowly overcomes you like a dark cloud. The problem that arises is that no matter what you say to them they have to WANT to see the light or make the most out of their lives. This is not something you can do for them and once you are gone they will launch on to a new “friend”.

"Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity." 
- Kahil Gibran

   The only way I’ve found of letting this type of person go is letting them know that you are a priority to yourself. You have things to do and accomplish and every spare moment of your day is not automatically devoted to them. If this person is a real friend then they will understand; if they are not… then they will look for the next doormat and you are far better off. I firmly believe that we are greatly influenced by the people we surround ourselves with and if we let people in that are encouraging, supportive, and real it helps us grow into a better person.

"The happiest moments my heart knows are those in which it is pouring forth its affections to a few esteemed characters." 
- Thomas Jefferson

"Treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being." 
-Goethe