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Category Archives: health and healing

You need consent to touch me

You need consent to touch me

Let’s talk about a more round meaning to a new buzz word: Consent

Disclaimer:        Absolutely all of this post is about adults. I am not even going to venture into the world of children with this post; not parent/child, child/ child, adult/child. This post is about adult/adult behaviors, and more specifically about violence against women.

I hear consent being used a lot these days, and for good reason.

Consent is agreement or permission to do something, for something to happen or be done or to allow something to happen.

But it’s becoming a very squared off version of a much rounder word. I’m finding that consent is being squared off into a meaning that solely relates to sex. And it’s being narrowed down more and more into that, as we try to define what is and is not considered consensual sex.

Giving / receiving consent for sex is SUPER MEGA AMAZINGLY IMPORTANT CRUCIAL and UNDENIABLE. I am not saying it isn’t.

What I am saying is that isn’t *all* consent means.

Consent over what happens to my body should not stop at my lady parts. My WHOLE body needs consent to be touched in any way, at all times.

It’s my body.

Sexual Assault is a part of Physical Assault. You can’t touch me sexually without touching me physically.

Any means in which someone continues to touch you sexually, without your consent is sexual assault. All sexual assault is horrible. Rape is the end all worst thing that can happen in a sexual assault.

Non-consensual sex is rape. End of story. It is. And it is a crime.

But, what about the rest of my body? What about the rest of Physical Assault? If I’m not getting raped, does that mean they don’t need consent to touch me?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

What’s the end all for physical violence against women that doesn’t involve sex? Death

Again, let me state that I am NOT trivializing rape, –rape is a form of death. I know. I’ve been raped. I know the shroud and have spoken with the reaper. But I am trying to complete the whole here.

Consent does not stop at sex. Consent means any way you touch me needs to have my approval.

If I reach out my hand to shake yours, that’s consent. Feel free to grab hold and shake my hand. If I reach out to hug you, and you want to hug me back, that’s consent. Hug away. If you come up behind me and put your hand on my shoulder, I turn, see who you are, smile and say something nice, then shaking my hand or hugging or other forms of nonsexual touch will probably be ok.

If I see who you are and pull away, then you no longer have consent to touch any part of me. Not even my fingernail. You don’t get to reach out and try to pull me in. You don’t get to grab my arm. I don’t care how much you want to talk to me.

If I want to leave the room, there is NO way that you can stop me that is not abuse.

It’s a very general but important concept.

No one can make another person do something. You can’t control anyone.

No matter how high ranking you are, the other person still has their own ability to decide.

The only way to MAKE someone do what you want is through coercion, manipulation, deception, and physical means. Each of these is a form of abuse. No one can make you do anything without being an abuser. ( *this does not include those incarcerated by the law)

You can’t make people do anything.

Each of us has the right to choose what we do.

Sexual or not, you don’t get to touch me without my consent.

So here are a FEW things that I don’t consent to have happen to my body that don’t involve sex:

Having your face in my personal face space. Don’t crowd me. It’s a threat, it’s meant to be a threat, and it’s not ok.

My hands squeezed to a point that my fingers and knuckles press together painfully.

My shoulders or neck squeezed or grabbed with intent to hurt or stop me.

My chin pinched to turn my head or hold my head still.

My hand/ wrist/ arm yanked in order to turn me or stop me from going somewhere I choose to go.

You probably shouldn’t flick me either. I will probably not see that as an acceptable way to touch me.

And some real for sure definite no ways:

Getting pushed up or down stairs, through a hall, over a chair or table, or down into anything.

Being shoved up against a wall or door.

Being picked up and thrown down.

Having my arms wrenched behind me and pulled up.

Being hit, open-handed or closed-fist. Neither one is acceptable.

Having my throat closed by squeezing.

What are the little physical clues? The things that abusers start with? They ways they test the waters? No one starts out the way the man who assaulted me did. The level of violence he went to the first time he chose to assault me went far past testing the waters.

My ex husband started with small things; things I didn’t notice because I was already used to them. But even at his worst, he never reached the level this guy did the first and only time. Yes, this guy knew I’d been abused in my marriage. Because of that knowledge, he felt safe to jump in right where he left off with his last victim.

The thing is abusers start small and subtle. How much power can they take? It’s a rush. It’s about control and power. And abusers use control and power like a drug. They have to have more to keep the rush. They need to see loss of power in the other in order to feel the rush. It’s not a Snap! There’s no moment when all of a sudden a normal guy goes all abuser on someone.

I want to open this discussion up to you. Let’s help each other. What are the physical clues that a man is an abuser? What are the subtle ways they test the waters to see what they can get away with? What physical touch do you not consent to?

I’m going to write about emotional abuse soon, because that is a predecessor to physical abuse. It may not always lead up to, but physical abuse is never without emotional abuse. But this post is about the physical.

 

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I forgive you

Dear Louis and Caroline,

I am writing to let you know I forgive you.
I forgive you for writing your Facebook post.
I forgive you for feeling you needed to write it when I had only ever sung your praises both publicly and privately.
I forgive you for writing it while you knew I would be flying and unable to read or answer it until after all your friends had seen it.
I forgive you for deleting any responses my friends put on it and then making it only for your friends to read.

I forgive you for believing that such a violent act against another human being needs nothing more than his say so that it won’t happen again with no consequences.
I forgive you for taking such a harrowing experience and trivializing it.

I forgive you for lying to me about what you felt I owed you.
I forgive you for lying to me about paying for the classes I taught.
I forgive you for believing that asking to settle between what I owed and what the classes cost, was asking for money.

I forgive you for not emotionally being there for me.
I forgive you for blaming me, instead of John Goosen by assaulting me, for the inconvenience of my staying in your home and eating at your restaurant.

I forgive you for accusing me, not John Goosen, for any part of the missed honeymoon time of our friends.
I forgive you for saying I “complained”.
I forgive you for only helping me move my things after being asked to by the honeymooners.
I forgive you for refusing to help me to have John Goosen arrested for his crime of assault and battery.
I forgive you for calling me selfish because I hadn’t gotten over it a mere 9 days after having been violently assaulted.

In replace of anger and frustration, I give forgiveness and compassion.
I give you a brush, with a mirror, for your daughters.
I give you a long, two person hammock that will easily fit two very tall individuals.
I give you all the things I left you, knowing that you could use them well.

I know that you both are also victims of the abusive cycle. It hurts me to see two sensible people behave the way you have, but I can
understand the need to find release from such a frustrating situation.  I understand it’s easier to release it on someone who isn’t there.

It hurts deep inside a person to know that they have been, and are friends with someone who is a violent abuser. You have long known that John is verbally assaulting at most times, that he becomes physically aggressive and out of control when he drinks, and now you know he is actually emotionally capable of killing someone with his bare hands.

That is hard to deal with on a very deep level. A level that many people don’t like to uncover and look at in themselves.

I didn’t like looking at that part of me when I was married. How could I love someone who hurt me all the time?
But I’ve already had to take that part of me out and give it a good long look-over. I’ve already spent many years and dollars on dealing with that part of me.

I’ve already had to deal with knowing and understanding the capabilities abusers have; the capability to look remorseful in order only to escape consequence; the capability to use faces, lies, and time to change how people see what happened.
I’ve already had the experiences that show me what to do in this situation. You haven’t.

I’ve had someone stand up for me before and have learned how to stand up for myself because of it.  You haven’t.

No one likes to stare abuse in the face.
People want it to go away. They want to think it isn’t really true, it wasn’t that bad, he wouldn’t really do that.
Because it’s easier that way.

Humans like things to be easy, simple, and not abusive. But this situation isn’t any of those things.
I only know what to expect and what to do, because I have already overcome it before.  You haven’t.
I don’t blame you for wanting things to go back to normal.
And I forgive you for expecting it to.
I forgive you for the pain you have caused me in addition to the pain of having been assaulted by your friend.

From this second on, I completely forgive you both, Louis and Caroline.
I cut my cords to you both with forgiveness, compassion, and love. Forgiveness of the acts, compassion for where you are, and love for who you are and what good you did do for me.

I forgive you.
Good-bye.

 

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Victim Blaming, one of the worst parts of violence against women

I have arrived in Albuquerque.  I am home safe with my mama.

The craziness of Mozambique continued as two men attempted to mug me and take my purse as I walked back to the hostel from eating my last meal in Mozambique.

I discovered something interesting about myself in that moment.  No matter what those two men said or did, I fought for my purse and my safety.  I kicked and yelled and flagged down a passing motorcycle.  I kept all but one shoe.

Why couldn’t I fight when my former friend assaulted me?  I’m still working on that.  Part of it was because I knew he would feel even more validated in hurting me if I had fought back.  And part of me just couldn’t.

That is the part of me I am really struggling with and need to work through before I head back out into the world.

Mom and I are going to be doing a lot of energy work in the future for this.

When I had arrived in the US and was able to get internet again, I found that I had been tagged in a harsh victim blaming post by the husband of the couple that I have previously been thanking for their help-

Though I understand their desire for things to be like they were before all this happened, for the bliss of ignorance, their post really hurt me.  All of the times I had asked them what I owed them had been met with “nothing, this is what friends do”.  Telling them that my mom was sending money, they just needed to tell me how much, and they said none.

Now it is all being reneged because they don’t feel I should continue to press charges.

None of us had done much sleeping.  All of us were trying to continue doing what we needed to because life goes on.  But, I was slowly being outcasted by them.  All the ways they were “helping” me, they began to see in a negative way, because I wasn’t dropping the charges.

My belief is that it’s because I was the reminder that things weren’t normal any more.  I was the one living in their house, so I became the easy target for displacing all the frustrations of the situation.

The sad truth that seems to be missing in their argument, is that none of the need for their help would have been necessary had my “housemate” not been aggressive, abusive, and finally assaulted me.

None of my living with them, or need of translation help with the police, or any of the kindnesses they showed me would have been needed if it weren’t for his actions.

I didn’t do this.  I didn’t ask for any of this.  This is not my fault.

I desperately tried to be as little a burden on them as possible.  I began eating as little as possible.  I helped with the house and girls whenever they asked, and have still been met with this painful reminder that people will attack when your back is turned.

I can’t blame them.  It’s human nature to want things to be “normal”.  It’s normal for people to take the path of least resistance.  I left, I’m not volatile. He’s still living there, they are still living there. I’m the least resistant path to displace the frustration.

Victim blaming is just as much a part of the abuser cycle as the abuse is.  It’s what happens when those around don’t want to think about it anymore.

I just didn’t expect it from them, so it hurts more.

Please, all of you out there, don’t revictimize by displacing blame.  It makes it so much harder to follow through.  So much harder to fight the good fight when you feel isolated and alone.

So much easier for abusers to feel empowered.

Now I am being labeled as a “psycho” by them for continuing to believe that justice needs to be served. He’s not a psycho for having assaulted me, I am for pursuing charges.  He doesn’t need consequences that will follow him so that others will be protected in the future.   Because in their eyes, I should let it all go, on his word that he will get help. I am the one who behaved wrongly by continuing the process.

And he is taking all this in.  Realizing he’s gotten away with it, for the time being, again.  He is being empowered by their actions.  And they don’t even realize it.

I surely wish that this will never happen to them or their daughters. I can only hope that no-one in their family goes through what I have, but if they do, I hope even more that their friends don’t do this to them afterward.

This is one of the worst parts of violence against women……

 

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The heartbreaking realities

The first month of any class is the toughest.  Creating routines, getting basic English words for keeping the class moving along as they learn new material, and learning English phonics.
It’s right around week 5 when I get to start seeing the little lightbulb moments as they recognize they’ve learned and can understand.

We’re just getting there in all my classes. This week I saw three little lightbulb moments. And this afternoon, as I was walking around the island, two little girls were walking down one of the side streets.  They were quiet and walking hand in hand.   They happened to look up and the one little girl , who is my student in the preschool class, opened her arms wide and ran to me,  teacher Mari!!  Without any hesitation she jumped in my arms and let me pick her up.
She gave me a beautiful hug and as I put her down, in her best new English she tried to introduce me to her friend and coached her in how to say, my name is…
The two girls and I parted with them smiling and happily laughing.
As I kept walking down the coast, I started hearing, teacher Mari, teacher Mari!  I looked up further and a small group of my elementary age students were gathered and called me over. I was so happily surprised with how well they were using English to explain the game they were playing and show me off to their friends.
My evening adult class is a newer class, only two weeks, but they finally understood the pattern I’ve been teaching them this week and three of them right away started using other words they know in the same pattern!
It’s these moments that I teach for. These moments when they realize they know, they try to share, and they take it farther on their own.

I LOVE teaching. I LOVE it.

And it breaks my heart, shatters it, to have to leave right now, just as it’s getting better for them.

Why does such terrible circumstances have to stop this progress?!  Who the fuck is this “nice guy” that everybody likes, that feels he has the right to keep me in a room against my will, and use ANY, let alone the amount of force, to make me listen to his drunken rants.  Who still maintains that if I had just sat and listened instead of trying to reach the door, he wouldn’t have hurt me so bad.

And as he’s all nice and calm again, admits he has a disease,
Well gosh! I should just let it all go, what’s the problem? , he’s going to get help.

Yeah. The fucking problem is that is a TRIED AND PROVEN PATTERN OF ABUSERS.
Diagnosing a disease doesn’t change the fact that abusers pick and choose, are in full awareness, and know how to look remorseful, and put on enough charm to get away with it.  They use time to make it feel like it wasn’t that bad. And they use their friendships to make it look like the victim is making too big of a deal out of it.

Tried and true classic pattern.

And the heartbreaking reality is that it doesn’t just affect me. The bruises are gone, I can almost put my backpack on, get dressed, or scratch my own back again without my shoulders hurting.  My wrists still hurt but you can’t see anything wrong. People don’t look at me and flinch, or ask how I am.  Time is passing.  But it’s a time bomb, and I know that.
A time bomb that I can’t be here to see go off.
The bomb may not go off here, if I leave. So in order to protect those that are helping me right now, I’m leaving here.
BUT THAT TIME BOMB WILL GO OFF SOMEWHERE IF LEFT UNCHECKED
I can’t leave that bomb unchecked. I will pursue the trial and whatever else is necessary to put checks and balances in place to ensure I’ve done my part.
Abusers don’t stop. They don’t get talked out of being abusers by the people around them.

The charming person isn’t who they are, it’s their cover up and protection against consequences. The charming side makes sure people, “can’t believe it” could be something the abuser would do.

This was a thought out act of violence. And because of it, my students will suffer.  My work here will be paused for who knows how long. These children don’t know what happened, all THEY will know is that I left. The adults have just another person who comes to help and leaves.

The heartbreaking reality is that it’s not just me that got hurt. But it’s me that will be doing the hurting of leaving.
And that sucks so much.

These tears fall with conviction. If education is my target, let violence be my arrow, and awareness be my breath.

 

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Each time I rise

The last 12 months of my life have been a true example of how the yin and yang of life works.

Once upon a time, the rotations of this wheel took a long time. Now as I continue to grow, it turns more quickly.  The changes are more immediate.  The ability to see paths of growth more illuminated.

From getting a good job in Turkey, a country I had longed to see for years, and discovering the beauty of the land and people – to the overwhelming need to remove myself.

From being happy on my own- to a dream like relationship – to the nightmare of its sudden end.

From the relocation to this beautiful country and island on the promise of a job – to the realization that the job didn’t exist, the money didn’t exist, realizing I was being held “nicely” as a hostage, getting typhoid, visa issues, – to building a rapport with the people, starting to teach again, loving my students, having people smile and try to talk to me everywhere I go – to the nightmare of this week.

This last 12 months has given me highs and lows.
I have seen beauty and ugliness in all the places and people.  I am surrounded, everywhere, by amazing people I am grateful to call friends.
We are all here to help each other.

I believe when I go home, I will be able to curl up for a little while; enter the ash stage, I am burning now.

But I will be reborn again. Each time I rise, I am stronger, brighter, and more complete within myself.
I don’t know the next step yet for sure, but I will be a force, a powerful force for change.

 

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As my bruises heal

On Sunday night I left the pier where I’d been sharing some fun photo ops. Using light to create hearts around the newly married couple. Laughing, dancing, having a good time.

The man I was having to live with, had been drinking all day. He had been being rude and belligerent all day. He was still.

I decided to leave. I made my apologies to everyone and headed back to the house.

I was working on school work when he knocked on the door. I let him in, he lived there after all.
I quietly went back to my work when he started verbally assaulting me.

Without saying a word, I quietly got my purse and shoes. As I headed for the door, he asked where I was going. I calmly replied I was leaving.

The next half an hour consisted of his locking the only door out, being slammed up against walls, while he spewed threats and profanities at me, twisted my arms and wrists, having my arms repeatedly wrenched back and up towards my ears, being picked up and thrown on the floor over 20 times, being thrown up against walls, strong-armed onto the floor where he put his forearm against my throat while telling me he was 4 times as strong as me and twice my size, repeatedly hit me while telling me it was too easy, held me down with his knee in my abdomen.

Miraculously I was, “allowed” to make a phone call while in the bathroom, where he stood watch as I changed the pants I had peed in, and finished emptying my bladder where he had held his knee into it moments earlier. Afterward, he tossed me across the room again where I begged him to let me go. Then, as I crawled across the floor he picked me up and threw me again, grabbed me by the throat, tightened his grip to the point I couldn’t breathe and began banging my head against the concrete wall.

Caroline came just in time. As she knocked on the door, he had his hands around my throat, choking me until I was unable to breathe.
I remember thinking if he hits my head one more time against the wall I wasn’t sure if I’d make it.

As he shoved me out of the house, screaming at me, Caroline was amazed at the state I was in and the amount of sweat he showed.

I did nothing, NOTHING to provoke this attack. I did nothing to prolong it. The only words I spoke were “Please let me go”, “we’ll talk tomorrow”, “you’re hurting me”.

Nothing short of someone else’s arrival was going to stop him. He was planning to kill me.

I tell you this because I need to get it out of me. I need to realize I didn’t cause this, I didn’t deserve it, and he had no right to do it.

And also because I want all of you to be aware. If you hear anything like this, like my neighbors staring out their windows as my friend came to get me, DO SOMETHING, don’t just listen.
If you’re in the position like I was, it’s not your fault, press charges, IT’S ASSAULT!

When I was married these things happened because he felt he had the right as my “partner”. This time it happened, though I refused to be/ wasn’t his partner.

It doesn’t matter the relationship!!! Assault is assault. Period. No-one has the right to hurt you. No-one has the right to keep you locked in a room against your will. (except police) No-one and nothing justifies these actions, ever.

And I write because I REFUSE to be a victim. I will not step back from reclaiming my rights as a human, to not be afraid.

Though the humanitarian in me believes that he also needs help, and for my own well being I need to forgive, I also recognize that forgiveness does not mean tolerance. Forgiveness does not mean allowance, or justification.

And though I know I will be back here, – I strongly feel for the people of this island and their education, – for the time being I need to leave. It will take a while. I need to finish classes so that I can raise money for the trial, flights, etc.

Who knows where to next, but wherever I go, I will be stronger yet. I continue my journey and get stronger and stronger.

I am a Phoenix, rising brilliantly from the ashes, my tears will heal others, my song will lead heroes.

 

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2 days in a row with electricity!!!

2 days in a row with electricity!!!

It is really humbling and amazing when things you have taken for granted most of your life become luxuries to be celebrated.

I got to take a real shower. I got to turn on the tap and brush my teeth! Conserving bottled water and only brushing my teeth once a day, SO glad to not be doing that for two days now.

Running the AC at night and not sweating through sleep-difficult nights is such a rich luxury I want to kiss the AC machine.

Life is good.

It’s an interesting phenomena that even with everything seemingly wrong, I’m learning how to make my time right here.

In Turkey, I had money, I was saving money, I could go see a movie or go to a mall. I had an oven, beauty products, my choice of hygiene products, but I was miserable.

Here, well, I have none of that. In fact, I have the most of nothing I’ve ever had, but, I can do good work here.

The construction company that has me doing their accounting asked me to teach a few of their workers English. We’ve only had 4 lessons but I am being stopped by people on the street every day now, to ask about English classes for themselves or their children. There is a desire to learn.

As far as I have heard so far, there has never been an English school here. And with the tourism industry about to boom here, what with all the hotels and museums currently in construction, there is not only a strong need, but a strong desire to learn.

I’m trying to find ways to make a living here while doing research into the needs. It’s a struggle, like I said, everything is seemingly going wrong. I wasn’t able to exchange my Turkish money, so I have none. My visa is setting up a daily fine that I can’t pay, plus the cost of the new visa once I get the fines paid. I have to figure out how to pay that while not making any money. My work at the construction company is paying room and board, so I have a roof over my head and food to eat, (with electricity I also have running water again !).

Luckily for me, being dirt poor is not new, I can do this too. Especially when I get to see some of the most beautiful scenery of my life.

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the office

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My room

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More of the wonderful things I get to see each day

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I got desperate for something sweet and wanted to make some cookies with my last egg…. I tried, that’s good. Right? OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It’s funny, I asked my mama to send me some goodies while I was still in Turkey. Now those things seem so trivial, salsa, dried green chile, comfort foods. I still want paint, mosquito repellent, crayons….

I haven’t worn a stitch of makeup since I left Turkey. My needs to get by have been drastically altered, for the better I think. I look around me and see such poverty, yet such joy in life. People of all ages sing as they go down the street. It is not unusual to see people dancing wherever they are.

But it is also not unusual to see people just sitting. There is very little work here. The schools on Ilha are the best in this part of the country and many children are bussed in to attend. But the local children can’t afford it. They walk around the island all day, rolling tires with sticks, drawing in the sand, but just meandering around until night time.

I know I can do good here.

As I continue my research, I hope to begin posting more about the history of Ilha de Mozambique…. a place I am beginning to love.

 
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Posted by on 14/02/2015 in Expat, health and healing

 

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A swim in the sea

It won’t be often I get to put pictures up right now, but I got these to go through, SO here are a few of the photos I’ve taken in the last 4 days.

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the light outside my door is blue, I think it makes the leaves look really cool

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The view from my front door

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Last night’s full moon was the most indescribably beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed!

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Some of the awesome scenery/ ruins

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My rooftop! Reminds me of Taiwan 🙂

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1st morning on the island

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Some of the awesome scenery/ ruins

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Well folks, it’s official, A New Year is about to begin

A NEW YEAR. A new start. A new/ old type of job. A new country. A new continent.

I will be taking a short leave from teaching and doing some nice quiet paper pushing for the time being, in Mozambique, Africa.

I’ll be living on a small island off the mainland recuperating, and centering myself again.

I am always grateful for learning moments as well as teaching moments. Turkey has taught me. And as I needed to let go of this place, a new opportunity presented itself. Where one doors closes, another opens.

2014 was a year of discovery for sure.

I managed to visit Hong Kong (airport haha), Vietnam, Cambodia, South Korea, the US, Jamaica, Germany, Czech Republic, Turkey, and Greece this year!

I gained even more insight into myself, what I will take, what I won’t, what I can take and what I can’t.

I’ve opened up and drawn myself in, in an ever ebbing tide this year. And right now, I’m leaving the drawing in phase and heading into an opening up phase.

I wonder what 2015 will bring.

 

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-It’s never dull around here-

I’m not really sure why my Word won’t upload my blogs any more.  I have to write tonight’s directly on the site.   I got on here to check in and saw that last night’s post didn’t publish.

So I tried it again, and it just keeps saying it’s unable to.  Thank goodness for good ‘ol C&P!    I copied and pasted that sucker right in and now I can write tonight’s.

One thing my life never is – dull.

I am going to have to rescind my prior post about not being complicated.   I will have to say yes….   I guess I am.  Dang it.   Who likes admitting stuff like that?

Probably the uncomplicated people.

Fair

In the middle of a test, one of my poor little students just up and vomited all over the place.   Yup thoroughly undigested food bits and nastiness all over his desk, his papers, the desk next to him, all the stuff on the floor around him.

All the kids are jumping out of their chairs, three ran to the bathroom to go hurl themselves, from the sight and sound of this poor little guy.

Meanwhile he keeps on going.  A good solid two minutes of one regurgitation after another.

One kid runs to get the homeroom teacher.  She calls for the janitor, I’m trying to keep the other kids from walking in it, and all out of the classroom, while trying to comfort this poor kid.

I’ve got a couple students getting baby wipes and paper towels.  And the best part is the girl behind him, who he just yakked all over, is still in her desk laughing so hard I thought she’d gone mental.

Somehow she just thought the whole affair was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.  She had me starting to laugh.

Now, looking back at it, it was pretty damn funny; the whole scenario as  played out.

I’m trying to decide if I can do part of my workout tonight with my toe still throbbing and now my foot swollen, but, I think no.  I’m gonna give it a couple more days.

I made a banana cake Monday night and I managed to eat 3/4 of it already.  Thank the stars Wendi ate some or I would be saying I ate the whole thing by now.

But man oh man was it good with a little of my  homemade peanut/ sesame butter on it!    I couldn’t stop myself.

Seriously

COULD NOT STOP EATING THE CAKE

So glad it’s gone now!

I still have about 5 hours of work to do and one hour to do it in, so bye for now folks!

 

 

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