tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43665983406120866262024-03-12T21:21:57.784-05:00I Am Just SydTeacher. Designer. Writer. Filmmaker. Daughter. Sister. All of this & more. Really, I Am Just Syd.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-85492471893260507262018-09-25T19:00:00.000-05:002018-11-29T16:49:13.353-06:00Just never need medial help, okay?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/6SNbWyFwuhk?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">nikko macaspac</a><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #111111; font-family: , "blinkmacsystemfont" , "san francisco" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "ubuntu" , "roboto" , "noto" , "segoe ui" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: nowrap;"> on </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/search/photos/help?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Unsplash</a></td></tr>
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The day I've been dreading for three weeks has come. I finally got my bills from my trip to the ER. To say they are overwhelming is an understatement. I rarely go to the doctor. I don't say that as a claim of toughness or lack of faith in medicine. When I was much younger I went to the doctor constantly. I was diagnosed with an abnormal growth condition when I was kid and had to go to the doctor regularly to have it monitored. I wasn't limited in activities or had dietary restrictions because of this condition, I was just at the doctor regularly until late high school. It was at this time my doctor determined my growth as a child was mostly over and whatever growth that remained would happen at a normal rate. I was cleared to discontinue regular monitoring and free to visit the doctor just whenever I felt it was necessary. I took this as a sign that I was basically physically an adult and didn't have much to worry about when it came to my health. So far this has essentially been correct.<br />
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I avoid going to the doctor now because it cost me so much money. This started around the time I graduated from college and didn't have insurance, or a job, so going to the doctor cost me a great deal of money. Well, a great deal in percentage when compared with my income was then. Oddly enough, the bills now are close to the same percentage as then. It's just now, theoretically anyway, I should be able to afford them. I don't know any working class person who can casually be handed a bill close to $3000 and can just pay it on the spot.<br />
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When I looked into the billing, it looks like my insurance hasn't really pay anything on the bill. I don't know why I'm paying for insurance if it's not being used to pay anything on my medical bills. And mentally dealing with this is threatening to undo all the work I've done over the past three weeks dealing with my anxiety and depression. Talking with my therapist has done so much good for helping me cope. I don't want to talk to her about this as it's embarrassing to be reminded of what happened that day. And it's embarrassing to think that all the work I've done can be so easily undone. I'd almost forgotten about all the sadness, anger, and embarrassment I felt that day. It feels like an enormous weight as been dropped on me. Something I'm supposed to be able to carry despite everything else I'm already carrying. In addition to having to hold the burden of being black, being a woman, knowing my government don't care about me and is actively trying to kill me, having crushing student loan debt (and all the mental stress that adds to a person. You can pretend it doesn't, but I can tell you it definitely does) and on top of all that having a plus sized body, I'm supposed to be able to handle the sudden financial responsibility of the equivalence of a cheap used car? How, Sway?<br />
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I never thought about suicide before as an actual method of escape. To be clear, I'm not thinking about it now. I've never respected it as a choice before now. I couldn't see how someone could feel so helpless and overwhelmed that they would actually give real thought to just ending their life. Not just because I believe life to be precious, but also because you can never take that choice back. There is no way to make another decision after you've made that choice. There is no way to just say, "You know what? Being dead isn't any better. Can I have my life back, please?" But now, I can see how it might seem like a viable option for someone. How the hopelessness is not only overwhelming but endless. How it feels like there is no other option to put a stop to it. How, given the choice to live like this or not, one can feel it is the only way.<br />
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I hope to never be in that place. I hope I can be honest enough with myself to tell someone when I feel this way and they help pull me back from that edge. That they widen my perspective, remind me of my strength and my brilliance. That I remember all of the characteristics I embody and know I can handle this burden in addition to others I am carrying. That I remember and know everything I need to continue is already inside me.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-2840683531218437992018-09-18T12:03:00.000-05:002018-09-18T12:04:30.462-05:00Missing Reading<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/hPKTYwJ4FUo?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">iam Se7en</a><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #111111; font-family: , "blinkmacsystemfont" , "san francisco" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "ubuntu" , "roboto" , "noto" , "segoe ui" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: nowrap;"> on </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/search/photos/black-women-reading?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Unsplash</a></td></tr>
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I didn't realized how much I miss reading until I did it this week. As a way of helping my mind quiet itself and not spiral into negative thoughts, my therapist suggest doing something that would fully engage my mind. It was only after she suggested read that I realized I haven't really read a book in years. I've listened to audiobooks and often suggest people listen them to read if they are short on time. But sitting down and reading a book, without guilt is something I haven't done in years. It started in graduate school, the guilt associated with reading for pleasure. At the time I didn't really have enough time in a day to complete all the school work I was given, work a job, feed myself, and sleep. In my case, I cut a lot of things out of my life so I could finish school with a sane mind. One of those things was doing anything for pleasure. I didn't watch tv, read, write, or make art unless it was for school. This probably wasn't the healthiest choice but it allowed me to managed my time so I was most successful academically.<br />
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Now, nearly a decade later, I still have guilt associated with doing things I enjoy. I hadn't thought about why I was so anxious when I would go to the movies, or to happy hour with friends, or just take a Saturday morning to admire how the sun reflected off the wall of my bedroom. It wasn't until my panic attack I thought about getting to the root of why I felt guilt when doing these things. Part of it was because of the perception of how we should spend time and what we believe time to be worth. I would say as a working class person, the idea of me using time in a pleasurable way is thought of as wasteful. If I'm not taking the time to make money or get thinner or more beautiful or acquire more things, the time is wasted and I should feel guilty and shameful about it. I've never subscribed to this ideal before grad school and still don't now, but I wasn't aware I'd internalized it anyway. Now that I'm aware of this harmful thinking I can work to undo it.<br />
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One way I work against this harmful thinking, that I must always be striving toward a goal that isn't mine or constantly engaged in the zeitgeist is to meditate on a quote I read a few weeks ago. Annie Dillard said, "Spend the afternoon, you can't take it with you." So much wisdom in such word economy. The idea of taking an afternoon to spend it however you like so that you're happy, healed, and whole isn't something we teach in America. Thinking about how to pass on this understanding- that your time is yours and not someone else's, that not all ideas in your head are your own and you should question how they got there- is something that's been occupying my mind of late. I still struggle with guilt about reading or sleeping in but it's to a much lesser degree than it has been in years. I remind myself when I start to feel the pulling dread of guilt that it's misplaced and shouldn't be here. That's she is allowed to be in some places but not here, not attached to this joyful action. Usually she goes away. Sometimes she doesn't. I'm still working on were she should go other than were she had been. As of right now, I won't allow her to stay here cause I've got some reading to do.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-7757691572601444682018-09-11T16:00:00.000-05:002018-09-14T21:41:41.822-05:00More than my heart is broken<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/xpb2wrtRQ7M?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Ahmed Ashhaadh</a><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #111111; font-family: , "blinkmacsystemfont" , "san francisco" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "ubuntu" , "roboto" , "noto" , "segoe ui" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: nowrap;"> on </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/search/photos/silhouette-woman-bed?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Unsplash</a></td></tr>
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I think my vagine is broken. Okay, that's a strong line to start with, let me back up a little. I've struggled with body imagine, feeling sexy, dating, and sex for my whole life. I was always the biggest kid in the class, both in height and weight, until middle school when I became just the fattest kid in my class. When I look back at pictures of myself, I wasn't as fat as I felt, and even now while I am plus sized I'm not as fat I think I am. But feeling fat mentally for a long time stopped me from living life. It does not do so now. I've lived a lot of life in the last 15 years and I plan on living a lot more. The one part of my life I've been missing that I still haven't figured out is a love life.</div>
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Now, to be fair to myself I'm still unlearning a lot of internalized misogyny The Church taught me. It has only been in the last five years that I have seriously tried to date. I wouldn't saying I picked the best time to go out in the world and find a lover but It's hard near impossible to find something if you never look for it at all. I've managed to find out that men my age are trash (this doesn't mean all men or trash or that I hate mean, it's just that usually if a guy isn't in a relationship by now it's because he can't figure it out or doesn't want to), I don't want to raise a boy into a man (I don't have any children on purpose), and I hate online dating. Every time I decide I'm going really give Tinder/Bumble/POF/OKCupid a try I have some kind of interaction that let's me know I don't have the personality to put up with the bullshit that is online dating. There is so much of me that doesn't fit well into a text message or a phone call that I am often miss understood when communicating over text. And I always thought I'd get to have a love story.</div>
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I remember as a kid I would dream up ridiculous scenario in which I'd meet a ruggedly handsome man that bugged the crap out of but held my interest. After a reluctant courtship I'd realized I was madly in love and we would get married, have kids, and life happily ever after. Or I'd be shopping in the middle of the night cause I couldn't sleep and we'd bump into each other grabbing the same rare bottle of roasted walnut oil. The one that cost too much but makes an amazing vinaigrette. We'd swap numbers and take turns making each other dinner and laughing too hard at silly jokes until one night we never actually made it to dinner for all the sex we were having and just order pizza. We would meld our lives together knowing we were better together and never really have a formal conversation about how we would just be together for the rest of our loves. Maybe we'd have a kid or just adopt and live in a loft with one too many rescue dogs. </div>
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But I've never had a love story. Once I had a high school boyfriend. We "dated" for three weeks before he told me he wanted to break up. I remember impersonating every golden area Hollywood actress and dramatically hanging up the phone because that's what you're supposed to do when your boyfriend breaks up with you. I also remember not feeling anything once he called back and we agreed it was over. I liked that he was interested in me, but there was nothing about him that made me want to date him other than he wanted to date me. I knew then I didn't love him and this wasn't my love story. After that I didn't really want to date anyone. I wasn't attracted to anyone in my circles or outside of my circles. There was one boy I had a crush on but whenever I tried to talk to him I would be too tongue tied to make conversation. I remember he was slender with dark mahogany skin and an Scurl. He looked like a young Blair Underwood. I don't remember what happened to him but I do remember that after him I didn't really try to talk to an boys. My strongest attractions were to grown men and to this day still are. I thought by now I would have found the person who makes me a better version of myself.</div>
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In fact, I'd convinced myself that since he hadn't come into my life by 35, I would just be single the rest of my life and I was fine with that. I didn't need him (I don't actually, I'm a boss ass bitch) and it was his lost for not finding me in time cause now I didn't want him! I lied to myself and said I was okay with this and would be fine on my own. Oh how naive and foolish I've been. This summer, I was visiting a friend and over drinks we had a long meandering conversation. The kind that happen only while intoxicated on a patio, the summer humidity working it's magic to loosen your tongue. Several times over the course of this conversation I mentioned that I'd probably never get married, after having me say this a few times she asked me why I believed that? I told her it was because I truly believed that if I were going to be married in my life then it probably would have happened by now. She asked me how I knew that? Even now, months later I don't have an answer for her. I'd just believed, like I did everything else The Church told me, that if I were to be married with children in my life it would have happened by now. I know this is a lie but it feels very real.</div>
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I'm not a dumb person, I know the stats and know that most people get married or have a LTR in their lifetime, but for some reason I was convinced it wasn't for me because it hadn't happened yet. But before my panic attack I thought I'd die young so that tells you what I know. What I do know is that thinking about never having a love story makes me sad. Not the sadness that is my depression, just sad. The kind of sad that makes you cry when no one is around or suddenly hits you while driving home in rush hour on a Tuesday. It makes you cry Dawson's Creek tears no reason other then you're lonely.</div>
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I hate that so much of my self imagine and self worth is still tied up in the idea that I should be a wife. I feel guilty for wanting to be loved and have someone love me, cause a strong women wouldn't want a man, right?. To tell the truth I don't even know if I want to be a mother anymore. Raising kids in this dark timeline seems impossibly hard. And here I was thinking I'd locked this part of my heart away, it having sufficiently atrophied away so I wouldn't have to feel this particular pain again.</div>
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I was so wrong. </div>
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So wrong that the loneliness had made my vagine not want to be touched and she loves to be touched. She has a whole drawer of toys she likes to play with but now none of them interest her. I know this loneliness will pass and she will want her toys again but right now I think, like my heart, she is broken. </div>
I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-21453057072285707142018-09-10T08:30:00.000-05:002018-09-10T08:30:05.278-05:00Trying to Fix a broken heartI stopped going to church in the spring. It wasn't a big decision I made after hours of contemplation, prayer and fasting, or discussions with friends. It was more of a realization I had after leaving my childhood church a couple of years ago. It was only after I left that I realized that the church had broken my heart and that going to church wasn't actually going to help me heal. I needed time and space to heal so i wouldn't become a bitter Christian. So I called the head of the ministry I was serving in and told him I wouldn't be coming back. He said he understood but was sad to see me go. In fact, I think he knew before I did that I would be leaving because he didn't even try to convince me I was wrong, like other people in the church have done in the past. I was a little surprised but relieved when he didn't try and tell me God had told him otherwise. I took this relief as a sign I was doing the right thing and left The Church. I had no plan to deal with my heart break but figured it was work itself out and started viewing my Sundays as more a recovery day then a day for the Lord. I would prep for the up coming week and enjoy a quite breakfast after sleeping in for the first it in my life.<br />
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Over the summer I did visit a couple of churches when I was visiting friends and family in other states. The messages were full of determination and love for disenfranchised people. For those who felt the church and country had forgotten about them. One of the churches had a Black Lives Matter banner out front and I didn't know how much I needed to hear the church say that until I saw it. I felt like I'd found what I'd been missing from the church back home. A place that made me feel like I mattered, like I was a person and they were waiting for me to show up. They weren't waiting for me to set up a camera or check the sound system or run the CG during worship. It felt like they saw me, Sydnie, and were glad I was there. It was unsettling at first. I'd never felt that from the Church before. I'd never felt like anyone in the church had ever missed me if I wasn't serving in the ministry. In fact feeling Seen helped me to realize that I often felt insignificant. In the past and sometimes now I struggle with negative self talk that makes me think that if someone ignored me when I spoke to them it's because I don't matter, not because they probably just didn't hear me. That if I didn't get a reply to my email it's because the other person didn't care, not because they are just busy and haven't gotten to it just yet.<br />
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I took all these realizations, balled them up, and shoved them down deep within me. I didn't want to deal with how small my childhood church had made me feel. I didn't want to tell my parents I no longer believed in The Church and wouldn't be going back for awhile. I didn't want to have to deal with having a broken heart because I had done everything I was taught to do to be a good Christian girl but still had ended up brokenhearted, single, and childless in my late thirties. It was too much to deal with so I didn't deal with it. I went to concerts, had drunken evenings with my friends, stayed out late, when to art shows, anything that distracted me from having to think about and process how insignificant I felt. Part of me knew it wasn't true, the feeling of insignificance, but more of me thought it was so I just avoided it and took the advice of Instagram and lived my best black life. And for awhile, it worked. I was able to ignore or push down my anxiety about these feelings and pretend they weren't effecting me.<br />
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Then I moved back in with my parents and things quickly started to fall apart, mentally anyway. Outwardly I appeared happy and joyful. I was tired, cause I had three life changes happen in a week, but I was fine. At least that's what I kept telling myself. I'm just tired and need to sleep. While traveling with my parents back to Dallas from Chicago I had what I thought was a heart attack. My mom started praying and called 911. She kept calling on Jesus and I wanted to tell her she was wasting her time. God didn't care about me, I was insignificant, and no matter how much she loved me God wouldn't be doing anything to help me. The paramedics arrived, put stickers all over my chest, performed test, and told me I wasn't having a heart attack. In fact, I was in perfect health, there was nothing wrong with me. They took me to the hospital and performed more detailed test but came to the same conclusion, I was in perfect health and my heart was very healthy. It was only on the ride to the hospital that I realized I'd had a panic attack. All the work I'd done to ignore or cover up my sadness and anxiousness was undone in a matter of minutes. It was a reality I hadn't accounted for.<br />
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When we finally arrived home, the depression fully hit me. Not as hard as when my aunt unexpectedly passed or when I'd gotten fired or when I realized that the American education system is fucking over poor people and mostly poor brown people so it can reinforce the status quo. Those times it felt like I was floating in space, untethered to reality with no way to find my way back. This time the depression was a pool of sadness, it's depth's unknown. I was the lone swimmer in this pool and it kept pulling me down deeper into it, the weight of the water pressing in on me, weighting me down. It was hard to get out of bed, hard to keep the sadness off my face, hard just to function as an adult. So I did something I've been putting for more than a year. I got a therapist. I took the advice of my internet friend Crissle and signed up for TalkSpace. I knew an in person therapist would be more effective, and I will more than likely end up with an in person therapist, but taking that first step was necessary to help pull me out of the pool.<br />
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No one tells you how to fix a broken heart, they only tell you that time heals all. I don't know that I really believe this but I know I have some work to do. This is bound to be a long journey that has no real end and a lot of peaks and valleys but it's the journey I'd rather take then let myself be pulled to the bottom of the endless pool of sadness.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-7176267015459786712016-10-08T22:51:00.001-05:002016-10-08T22:51:56.195-05:00Dumpster Fire 20162016 has already been pretty crappy, starting with all the deaths of musical and acting influencies that I love. Then Trump happened and the crazy clowns thing started and I didn't see how it could have gotten worst.<br />
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Then my dad called me and told me my uncle, my mother's only brother, died. I nearly wrecked my new car because of course I was driving. I've not slept much since the news but I did get to spend the weekend with my cousins who I consider my sisters. While we are sad, we aren't hopeless.<br />
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So far the best thing about 2016 is Lemonade and My cousin's wedding. Here's hoping it doesn't get much worst.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-52431361664073811532014-02-01T22:52:00.002-06:002014-02-01T22:52:44.401-06:00Annoying Teenagers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MnJWgL5aMoQ/UuvpMWeH9UI/AAAAAAAAHFU/SJLtSkAgTmw/s1600/hikeronmount.jpg" />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://unsplash.com/post/68620403709/download-by-danka-peter" target="_blank">unsplash</a>, By <a href="http://frombusytoeasy.blogspot.sk/" target="_blank">Danka Peter</a></td></tr>
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I know I've only worked at a high school full time for five months, so I'm no authority on teens, but recently I've noticed something about high school students I don't like. It could be I'd forgotten this or was too young to recognize it before but teenagers are annoying. Ignorant machines made in a factory somewhere with the specific purpose of making noises, sounds, movements, and displaying behaviors that grate on my patience. <br />
<br />
I guess this is God's way of preparing me for children or perhaps payback for putting my parents through this for most of a decade, teaching teens is one of the most fun but most irritating jobs I've ever had. If I had to pick any age children to work with, I wouldn't change my mind for the world. As cute as the elementary kids are, they are too little for me. It is those students who are on the verge of being adults, who are standing on the edge of possibility and shouting into its face to "Remember me!" These are the people who light up the most when you help clear the fog in their heads about which way to tackle the mountain before them.<br />
<br />
They may get on my nerves, and I am sure I get on theirs, but I wouldn't trade those arrogant naive fearless children for anything. They remind me that this part of me is still alive and is worthy of my attention, even if only every other month.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-1389829066842545722014-01-30T11:56:00.001-06:002014-01-30T11:59:28.841-06:00No, I will not fix your Stuff!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/nn2FB1P_Mn8/0.jpg" height="270" width="480"><param name="movie" value="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/nn2FB1P_Mn8&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="480" height="270" src="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/nn2FB1P_Mn8&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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Because of circumstances being what they are, I am on the IT department at my job. I was volunteered for this position because, naturally teaching classes that use a computer means I know how to fix complex network problems. I have never setup a network outside of plugging in the ISP provided router and using the provide password to log my home computer onto that network. I very little knowledge of IP number blocking, subnets, remote accessing, and editing permissions for domains. <br />
<br />
If you ask me to fix your computer problem, I will more than likely tell you to A) restart it - "it" ranging from your computer to your router to whatever device isn't working how you think it should work-, B) make sure it's plugged in all the way, C) Google the problem first, or D) talk to the person who gave you the device because I have no special power or knowledge about your problem. I have fixed most of my computer problem because I know how to Google and know a couple of people who have actual training in this field who I can ask to "answer a quick question". Most of the time they tell me to Google a particular phrase.<br />
<br />
So you got it right? Ask Google, not me cause I don't know why your "thing" doesn't work when you plug the "cord" into it. I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-13218463546551472642014-01-28T13:00:00.000-06:002014-01-28T13:00:19.975-06:00So frittata good!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P5_K66w28gU/UuftS2ktFCI/AAAAAAAAHE4/fNnL37wfO1k/s1600/IMG_20140117_223440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P5_K66w28gU/UuftS2ktFCI/AAAAAAAAHE4/fNnL37wfO1k/s1600/IMG_20140117_223440.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's Saturday morning, coffee in hand and my dad asks me what's for breakfast. Immediately I'm think, "what do we have that would qualify as breakfast?" Quiches are easy to adapt to what you have on hand but they can take almost an hour to make. What's quiche like but quick? A frittata!<br />
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As I understand it, it's an egg based Spanish dish eaten for any meal. Started in a skillet but finished in the oven, a frittata is easily adapted to whatever you have on hand.What I had in my fridge was sun dried tomatoes, fresh spinach, purple onion, avacado, and egg whites.<br />
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How did my creation come out? Fantastic! So good in fact, my father (who doesn't like to try new things) enjoyed it a lot! He wanted to know how to make it for himself, which is something he never does. So did some other friends after I posted pictures on instagram. So here you go! I hope you enjoy it!<br />
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<br />
Saturday Morning Frittata<br />
1/4 cup medium chopped sun dried tomatoes<br />
1/4 of a medium purple onion,finely chopped<br />
Half of a ripe avocado, diced<br />
Large handful of fresh spinach. <br />
2 large eggs<br />
1/2 cup of eggs whites (I bought a carton from walmart but you could use probably 3 or 4 egg whites to equal this or just use whole eggs)<br />
Cheese (optional)<br />
Seasonings (however you normally season eggs)<br />
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*Your skillet will need to be oven safe for this dish. <br />
<br />
1.Preheat your oven to Broil 350 degrees. Saute the onions on medium heat until they are just starting to turn brown.<br />
2. Toss in the Sun dried tomatoes and saute them until they are just starting to turn brown (You can substitute fresh tomatoes but I sun dried taste better to me for this).<br />
3. Being careful not to add a bunch of water, add the spinach to the pan. It will look like too much for the pan but it will cook down quickly.<br />
4. As your your spinach is wilting, mix your eggs & egg whites together (add your seasons now). As soon as your spinach has cooked down, pour the eggs in the skillet and stir the ingredients making sure everything is evenly distributed. Add you diced avocado now, making sure you evenly distributed it in the pan. <br />
5. Turn the heat down to low and let everything cook for about five minutes. You'll notice the bottom will cook through but the top will still be runny (if you are adding cheese to your dish, do that now).<br />
6. Put your skillet on the top rack in your oven for another couple of minutes. You want the cheese to melt and the eggs to set before pulling it out of the oven.<br />
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You can serve it right out of the pan or plate it however you like. I eat mine with a little dijon mustard and a strong cup of coffee.<br />
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I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-89065273948164734052014-01-22T21:12:00.001-06:002014-01-28T12:18:15.219-06:00That one question I keep asking myself<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am on an emotional carousel sometimes. Up & down, around & around.</td></tr>
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I see so many jerks who have girlfriends when I'm hanging out with my friends. The girls are usually pretty good looking while the guys are either very attractive or very plain. They said crude things to impress their friends and act uninterested in the girl they are there with. This frustrates me when I witness it, mostly because the girl puts up with it but also because I am single. Not that I want a jerk for a boyfriend but when I see people who in no way deserve a romantic relationship with one, it makes me wonder what the heck is wrong with me.Why am I still single?<br />
<br />
I answer this with the following responses, I don't put myself out there enough, I'm not pretty enough, I'm too fat, all the usual negative self talk I have. I wonder how much of this I make up in my head and how much of it is self fulfilling prophecy. I go back and forth about whether I want to be in a relationship or not. I don't really have time a serious relationship needs to grow and I enjoy my freedom as someone not attached. I do get lonely and from time to time I want to go on a date but have no one to be my other half. That's when the negative self talk comes to the surface, crushing my self esteem and making me second guess every life choice I have made in the resent future.<br />
<br />
This is when learning contentment is hard. Not so much looking at what you don't have and desiring it, but knowing you will have it one day and at that time it be something you do not want.<br />
<br />I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-19019834904643847312014-01-21T20:16:00.003-06:002014-01-28T11:04:33.657-06:00Gimme Shelter and pass the tissues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='560' height='315' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0fmToHEMFeY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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Usually when I watch a movie, I don't cry. My friends will tell you I wear my heart on my sleeve as I'm often emotionally moved by, well anything. A song, a video, a certain piece of art, a really good meal, any number of things will cause my heart to swoon but is it rare that I am moved to tears. That's what happened while watching Gimme Shelter, Ron Krauss's new film starring Vanessa Hudgens.<u><span style="color: #0066cc;"> </span></u><br />
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Gimme Shelter tells the story of Apple, a teenager who's spent most of her life in & out of foster houses but in no one's hearts. After discovering she's pregnant, Apple reaches out to her estranged father for help but this doesn't go as well as planned and friction between her step-mother and her step-siblings causes her to seek other means of help. After a few days of living on the street, her desperate actions land her in police custody and a chance she's never had before, to have someone care for her. Based on the life of a girl taken into a shelter run by Kathy DiFiore, pictured above, this movie gives hope that the people who need the most help will get a helping hand at the right moment.<br />
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When the movie started, I knew this would be a difficult emotional journey. I have experience with the all too familiar story of a child abandon by her parents, a few of my childhood friends know this tale personally. The opening scene is brutal and heartbreaking as you see just how heavy a hand life has deal Apple. In fact, Vanessa's performance as Apple makes her unrecognizable, when she came in the theater for the Q & A, I wasn't sure the woman on the screen was the same person sitting in front of me. As good as Vanessa's performance was, Rosario Dawson's was outstanding. The scene they have together in the hospital is one of the best I've seen in a film as you see Rosario trying to explain how she is doing the best she knows how to be Apple's mother. <br />
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As I watched the film I was completely captured by cast's performance. I felt all of the anger, heartbreak, fear, and pain of Apple as she went from a scared little girl, who only wanted to have a family, to a young woman and mother who would do whatever it took to be everything her parents were not. I felt the disappointment, bitterness, failure, and fear June felt when Apple was taken away from her. Though I felt the end was abrupt, it ending on an emotional breakthrough Apple has in front of her father- she realizing for the first time she finally has the family she's always wanted- I feel this is a powerful, well produced film. I feel not only should people see it, but the performances Vanessa Hudgens and Rosario Dawson give should be seriously consider for awards and accolades.
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ra21sQihYnY/Ut8ow5dsrqI/AAAAAAAAG_o/PbLafO83DGs/s1600/Kathy+DiFiore+and+Sydnie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ra21sQihYnY/Ut8ow5dsrqI/AAAAAAAAG_o/PbLafO83DGs/s1600/Kathy+DiFiore+and+Sydnie.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy DiFiore was nice enough to take a picture with me. </td></tr>
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I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-40421097717435480242014-01-06T20:38:00.000-06:002014-01-06T20:38:03.620-06:00Obligatory Post about New Year's Resolutions I'm not really resolving to do anything this year. I'm making plans to travel more when I have time, pay down some debt, and in general be a healthier person but no list of things I plan to change. I feel if I hadn't made the plan to change my mind by now, I'm probably not going to change whatever habit I wish leave in 2013.<br />
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One thing I do every year is a cleanse of some kind. At the beginning of the year my church has a fast, A Solemn Assembly. It is during this week that we fast from TV, the evening meal, and spend more time getting to know Christ. The idea is to seek after God, get closer to Him, and start the year as you intent to spend it, putting your relationship with God first. In the past I have fasted from all matter of things: solid food, TV, the internet (before Facebook), all social media (after Facebook), video games, worldly music, and a few things I've forgotten. I usually decide on something I feel takes up too much of my time as of late. This year is no different and though I have cut back severally on my social media consumption, I still feel like I spend too much time doing no profit things. Some of these things would be any amount of time spent on Reddit, Tumblr, and Steam.<br />
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Before you vote me off the fangirl island, think about what you get in return for the time you spend on these websites. I might learn a few facts, feel like I'm part of group who "gets it", but usually I have no return on my time investment. I'm no closer to finishing any of the novels stuck in my head, no new creative ideas have formed, and no relationships have been fostered. This week, I'll be off those sites in an attempt to set myself up to use my time more wisely this year. I hope to have an outline of at least one of my novels by year's end if not more.<br />
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In addition to this, and fasting from TV consumption, cause I hardly watch TV on a TV anymore, I've taken up the 30 Day No Sugar Challenge. I was shocked to learned, after noticing how tight my clothes had gotten, that over the last six months I'd gained twenty pounds. I wasn't surprised because I'd picked up my bad fast food habit again before The Holidays started. In order to finally get back into some kind of shape, I joined a gym and decided to do this challenge. There aren't too many rules, but the ones I've set for myself go as follow:<br />
1. Nothing with sugar as one of the first three ingredients<br />
2. No sweets (So no dessert but fruit is okay)<br />
3. Only one fast food meal a week<br />
4. Only one dining meal a week<br />
5. No alcohol<br />
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2014, let's get this thing going.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-71269752771524865702013-12-11T22:26:00.000-06:002013-12-11T22:26:10.941-06:00Two thousand thirteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0uoyYksOcns/Uqk6nyiaPRI/AAAAAAAAGUE/TAzKyaG5Qgo/s1600/SydinReview-2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0uoyYksOcns/Uqk6nyiaPRI/AAAAAAAAGUE/TAzKyaG5Qgo/s1600/SydinReview-2013.jpg" /></a></div>
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I first started to compose this post while I was in the shower. And like all my post that I start else where, only half of it remains now that I am able to type it out. It's very near the end of 2013, a year that seemed for the first time in a long time to take its full chronology to pass. Maybe it's my romance with nostalgia or all the Best Of post I've been reading on Buzzfeed, but this year seemed especially full. I wouldn't cheapen it by trying to say nothing important happened this year. I changed careers, became certified teacher (in two content areas), say goodbye to some very good friends, said hello to others. I fulfilled a life long ambition to travel the world and returned home not so much whole as overwhelmed, full and more determined to achieve those "Before I turn 35" goals I wrote down so long ago.<br />
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I grew spiritually, something I don't talk a lot about because I want it to be evident not by my words but by my actions. I lead a small group at my church and out of all the teachery things I do, I think this one has never made me more happy and closer to God. Every time we meet, I am glad and excited I woke up and came to small group. Something else I fully embraced this year was drinking. I wouldn't have called myself a drinker before this year. Someone who enjoyed a drink every know and again, or did actually drink, yes, but not a drinker per se. I accepted that part of me and what I thought I would feel (shame, disappointment) wasn't actually what I felt. Relief was the first, strongest emotion, followed by happiness and boldness. I was glad to identify as one of those people who frequents a bar enough to know the staff by name and have a "regular" drink. I felt a settling deep inside me like my foundation, the very core of who I am, was being set. It felt great and only helped to make me feel like I am becoming who I should be.<br />
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I've never been a person who wanted a do-over in life. Mostly because I believe in learning from life and moving on but also because I don't like to live in the past. Looking back too much can stop you from living your future or even more dangerous, not living in the present. If I had the opportunity to life this year over again, I don't think I would change any decisions I made. I might have stayed in London an extra day, I might have taken that extra road trip to Austin or Oklahoma, but for the most part I would have lived life the same.<br />
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I thank God for giving me such an amazing year. It was fantastic and you know what? So was I. I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-16588232370981368922013-07-31T04:40:00.000-05:002013-07-31T04:40:45.286-05:00Very Early Morning To You<br />
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After having a very nice lunch with my friend Pearlie, recording a new episode of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Gramblings" target="_blank">Gramblings</a> with Mattie & Lewis, and creating a metric ton of inside jokes at Karla's going away shindig, I came home to edit audio and get a nights rest. It is currently 4:24 AM and I have yet to be asleep or really be tired. I'm unsure if it is the excitement of starting a new job tomorrow, the joy and sorrow of being creative again and bidding farewell to a friend, or just the allure of the internet to keep me from my bed. Here I am writing, what I am sure is nonsense, at half past four in the morning.<br />
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Why am I writing? Mostly because I haven't in months. I could say I have been busy, which would be an honest excuse, but mostly because I didn't feel like expressing my feelings from this side of a keyboard. For the first time in a number of years, I didn't have to write a paper or critique or lesson plan or anything. And so I didn't. I traveled, read books, watch TV, saw movies. Talked with people, face to face. I met people from other countries. I ate food I've never had. I shared insights and gained knowledge and lived.<br />
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I wouldn't say I wasn't living life before this summer. It was a different type of living, the kind that wears you down, breaks you of your weaknesses and makes you strong because you refuse to give in or give up. For the past two months, I've been living the type of life that fills ever cell of your body with a radiance so bright and full, it won't stay inside you. People notice it on your face, in your speech, in your walk. I've loved every moment of it and hope the rest of this year and the next are very much like it.<br />
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I went to the UK in the past two months, you can read about that <a href="http://iamjustsyd.tumblr.com/post/54435053574/i-am-just-a-changed-woman-i-went-to-the-uk-for" target="_blank">here</a>.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-12553706591479732542013-02-07T22:11:00.002-06:002013-02-07T22:11:26.841-06:00Won't do for myselfI feel like I never write any more. My thoughts are cluttered in one small space in my head, fading away to nothingness because I don't give them a voice. My musings, atrophied and weak, stop demanding my attention after awhile and the writing I want to do never happens.<br />
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I do write, everyday usually. These words are academic and sterile, explaining the learning process or how to teach children a better way to remember vocabulary words. These words have perpetual shotgun in my brain, always feed first, always written down. They aren't inspiring or beautiful or even pretty but they are what my words are sacrificed for.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-89708210249480846892013-01-03T20:21:00.000-06:002013-01-03T20:21:35.662-06:00Of Gingers & RestlessnessMy sleep was fairly restless last night. I wasn't particularly tired but as morning comes and so does work, night is for sleeping. So I laid down and dreamt about a man I've never met. Honestly, will never meet if truth be told. I was on a trip to England, a study abroad trip. I was in a pub by myself having a drink. I saw him walk in, a tall thin man with brilliantly red hair and so much arrogance I swear I could smell it on him. I caught his gaze as he strolled pass my table. He winked at me. I ignored him. I was in a fowl mood and sulking, about what I can't remember.<br />
<br />
I finished my drink and stood to leave. As I turned, I found him standing in my way, his hands in his coat pockets. I found this odd, an Englishman who didn't take off his coat when he came in a building. I excused my way around him, he called out something about needing the code to my door. I didn't know what he was talking about so I kept walking. He followed me out. For some reason this didn't affect the way I thought it would. I wasn't afraid of him so much as I irritated by him. I didn't want to be bothered.<br />
<br />
He chatted at me as I walked. Sometime I would look at him and that was all the encouragement he needed. He would talk more, make sly comments about 'Us' like we were an item. As if somehow I'd forgotten we were a couple. Thought I wasn't afraid of this man, I knew better then to walk to my place so I just walked around well lit areas hoping he wouldn't notice I wasn't going in any particular direction. After walking for an hour, he finally asked when we could stop walking and actually go to my flat. I noticed in all his chatting he's not English but Scottish.<br />
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The dream then cuts to a rather compromising scene of the two of us together, our limbs intertwined, our skin in sharp contrast against one another. The dream then cuts again, to a tan girl, her face freckled, her hair a wild nest of red curls. This girl is obviously our daughter, her face very similar to mine, her eyes and height belonging to her father. She stands on a hill looking into the distance. What she is looking at I do not know nor can I see it.<br />
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This is the entirety of my dream, it's ending sharp and sudden. Perhaps this is how all dreams are supposed to end. It's finale a rushing crash of consciousness.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-48521159952362735082012-12-04T09:56:00.001-06:002012-12-04T10:00:07.362-06:00Just the wrong side of comfortable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Last night I had an adventure. Who has adventures on a Monday night you ask. Me, that's who. It was not the kind I prefer, like how an unplanned happy hour with friends after work rolls into VIP backstage passes at an exclusive concert that then ends in a sunrise breakfast at the singer's penthouse suite. This adventure was born of tragedy and familial duty.<br />
<br />
My uncle is in a hospital with a tight, one handed grasp on life. He's very, very slowly recovering from a fire that about a week ago claimed all of his and his late mother's belongings. My mother, the ever faithful sister and daughter, drove to Little Rock to see about him, sign any papers that need signing, and just be there for her one and only brother. My dad rode with her to Little Rock at the end of last week. They rented a car to do this. That would prove problematic when my dad came home Sunday night on the Greyhound and the rental car needing to be back by Tuesday afternoon. And this is how my Monday evening became an adventurous one.<br />
<br />
My mom called and asked me to pick up her prescriptions because my dad was going to meet her in Texarkana to trade cars. I told her I would pick them up. She then asked for some other things, clothes, facial cream, etc. I could tell she wasn't really paying attention, she kept repeating things and her voice sounded distant like she was trying to remember how to live everyday life. It made my heart sink and the anxiety I've been stuffing down since last week rise up and threaten to steal my voice. I knew I couldn't let it do that, for her sake. I knew if I lost it, she might too. I took a deep breath and reassured her I would get everything she needed.<br />
<br />
Ninety minutes later, my dad and I, clothes and meds in tow, on an otherwise ordinary Monday night, headed out into the darkness to have an adventure. I drove first, as I was already awake but my day was wearing on me and I knew if I slept I wouldn't want to drive later. The drive there was pretty good. My mom's car is new, like less then six months new and fully loaded. As my dad slept, I let the 80s on 8 XM station take me to my childhood over and over again with songs I, surprisingly, remembered most of the words to. Sleep hit me pretty hard about thirty miles from State Line Ave, our exit that would take us to the agreed upon meeting place, and I started to dance to the music to stay awake. I also started to think about all of the road trips I'd taken over the years.<br />
<br />
My dad started to wake and I remarked to him how it always seemed to be me and him in cars on trips. He drove me to my college orientation at Texas Tech way back when I was freshman in college. The two of us drove to Chicago to christen my brand new subcompact car when I was in film school. We talked about that car, the Silver Bullet, and how I put all but 300 of the 154,000 miles it lived to gain. We also talked about it's tragic death, by broken timing belt, and how if I'd gotten it changed at 150,000 miles like I was supposed to I would probably still be driving it. We talk about the road trip vacation we took to Virginia to visit my kamp friends, and the drive home from Cleveland one summer after a family reunion, and the many, many trips to my Grandmother's house my mom and I took the year before she passed away. I thought a lot about the time we have spent in cars and on the road and how I never once regretted a single minute of it.<br />
<br />
We did start a little late and had to stop for food so we were pressed for time but my mom's new car is a turbo, and I was driving so w e made to Texarkana with minutes to spare . My mom got lost getting to the redevue, which irritated my dad but I understood. I knew she was not thinking straight, she's a worrier, like her mother. We exchanged hugs and made sure all the stuff I'd brought was what she need. My cousin, my uncle's only daughter rode with my mom so she and I chatted about brothers and Georges in our family. My grandfather's name was George, my uncle's name is George, her brother's name is George, and my brother's name is George. They are all interesting characters and have done a thing or three that has made us frustrated with them. My parents chatted about work, medical bills, and wether or not to seek cautionary legal advice.<br />
<br />
We said our reluctant goodbyes, got in each other's car and started back to our destinations. My mom and cousin immediately started to Little Rock. I curled up in the front seat and nodded off. My dad took fifteen minutes to figure out the car, what all the button did, how to work the radio, how to pair the phone to the car for hands free calls, and how to charge his phone before starting back home.<br />
<br />
I spent the next three hours semi-conscience, Nancy Wilson, Whitney Houston, and Patti Labelle lulling me back to sleep after each bump in the road nudged me far enough away from sleep for me to be aware that the car we rode in was just on the wrong side of comfortable. One bump woke me to a phone call my parents were having about my uncle and how because all his papers had been destroyed, it was hard to know who to call for what and what bills needed to be paid. Another jarring brought me to a parking lot and my dad hurriedly exiting the car, muttering something about a bathroom. I noticed the tightening and dull ache in my back and decided I would probably never buy this car given the choice.<br />
<br />
Soon enough after an interesting stop to fill up on gas, in which my dad pressed all the buttons and pulled all the levers in the car to try to open the gas flap, I felt the familiar backing into our driveway that meant we had make it. Though it didn't end with an introduction to a celebrity I've been wanting to meet since childhood, our adventure ended without event. I crawled into bed hoping the next three hours would feel like eight.<br />
<br />
There is a 5-hour energy staring me down on my desk, wondering why I have not taken it yet.<br />
<br />
My brain is wondering why I didn't buy two when I had the chance.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-79674588310565764362012-11-16T22:11:00.002-06:002012-11-16T22:11:52.558-06:00I'm Mad As Hell but I think I'm going to have to take it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QGJtoGB3HWE/UKcORPeP6NI/AAAAAAAADVc/bswpBAy1Ato/s1600/Sad-Clown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QGJtoGB3HWE/UKcORPeP6NI/AAAAAAAADVc/bswpBAy1Ato/s1600/Sad-Clown.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I've noticed my anger has returned recently. I used to be angry all the time when I was younger. It was my knee jerk reaction to everything. If I wasn't absolutely happy or excited, I was angry. I finally got tired of that in my early twenty, of being emotionally spent by small things like traffic and poor customer service. I decided I wasn't going to be angry any more and I made a short art video about anger. My friends helped me make it and it was one of the pieces I left film school not feeling embarrassed about. For a long time I was not angry. Irritated, tired, sick, all things that can appear as anger but aren't. Until the end summer this year.<br />
<br />
Now that I'm writing about it, I'm not entirely sure it really is anger I'm feeling. I think it's just deep disappointment and frustration. I will freely admit that I suppress my emotions. I do this because I'm an intense person and have no subtle reactions to, anything really. I am hyperbole. Everything is the best or the worst. I love it or I hate it. I am both willing to give my life for my family and want to kill them at the same time. I found that people don't handle my reactions well so I suppress them for the most part. When I am happy, I generally laugh too loud, when i am sad I find it hard to find the motivation to get out of bed. When I'm angry, truly angry I want to start a three week long riot, over throw the government and BURN SHIT TO THE GROUND! I have never had a mental scale as it were so all of these reactions seem perfectly normal to me. Other's expressions and fearful eyes would tell me other wise. I suppress my emotions because I want people to like me.<br />
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I also suppress but I think about everything too much, I analyze every word I said or didn't say from the dinner I had last night. I think if my motivation for wanting something or doing something are correct. I want to know if it's sadness I'm feeling or am I just tired and need more rest? It can be exhausting this process I have of second guessing everything out of my mouth. Usually when I'm talking, I don't have this dialogue. It's later at night when I am on the cusp of consciousnesses that I begin to critique whatever was said a hour ago. I'm working on stopping this terrible habit cause it has the same affect on me as YouTube comments, they make me weep for humanity and burn with a passion of wiping us out for the greater good of the planet.<br />
<br />
It occurred to me some moments ago that one of the reason why I feel angry was not only my odd level of working exhaustion but that I am dissatisfied with my life. I am not angry but disappointed that I didn't get what I wanted. Not that I get everything I want, in fact rarely do I get to feel real satisfaction about life. For example, I bought a car last year because I need a reliable one. The car I've wanted from the time I was a child was a 1987 Monte Carlo SS, black with chrome details. I knew this car would not only be out of my budget but hard to find and maintain so I didn't even search for it. I instead looked for a car that would last me at least ten years with regular maintenance and bought a honda accord. It's very nice and it gets me to work and I very much like it. But that little kid who wants the super sport still isn't satisfied.<br />
<br />
After graduation this past May, I thought for sure my life would change. Not in that well scripted Hollywood fashion that Disney is always trying to sell but in the small steps way. that in a year I could look back and see how much change had taken place and that it's hard to believe I was ever in that place to begin with. I thought for sure that even if I didn't find a new job, I would have moved out and gotten my own place. Or had at least meet someone who would take me on regular dates if not had some sort of romantic relationship with. None of this has happen. My boss is still dismissive of my opinions, I still live in the same room i've been living in for decades, I hurt both my feet and haven't worked out in months, and thought I have meet some great people this year, people I adore and want to spend a lot of time with, none of them are available to be in a romantic relationship with me.<br />
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It's frustrating to feel like you are always treading water. And Facebook doesn't help by telling when every person I know is getting married or engaged or having a baby. I am happy for you friends and acquaintances, some of who I literally have not seen since high school, but please, stop telling me about how happy your life is. I know it's happy, okay?<br />
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Man, I sound like a winy, lonely baby. I should just except that this is my life and I am here for much, much longer than I expected. I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-74826023166176416442012-11-16T13:00:00.000-06:002012-11-16T13:00:00.746-06:00I wanted to love himHe wasn't much to look at. At least I told myself that the first time he walked away from me wearing that grin. Just a brown skinned tallish man of almost forty who needed a haircut. He was too thin like he was used to not eating. Which wasn't true. I later found out he ate a great deal but never the kinds of foods I imagined an almost forty skinny man would eat.<br />
<br />
His name is Charlies and the first time we met, he said I stole his heart. It was at a grocery store one late Thursday evening. I had gone to see a movie after work and then to drinks with some friends. The movie was forgettable, the drinks not so much. It was summer and every night during summer is a reason to sit on a random patio and chase a few beers with stories of 'that one time we' and 'remember when's. Our laughter spilled over the worn wooden boards of the patio and on to the street, passers by finding themselves smiling as they walked on. I would have stayed on that patio until the bar closed but I promised a friend I would make her cookies. I said good bye three times before I actually left, the joy of the evening evident in the smile that wouldn't leave my face.<br />
<br />
Though I was sleepy, I wasn't in a hurry to find my bed so I drove to the all night market in the nice part of town and strolled down the isles. I thought of summer barbecues long past as I absently dropped items into my basket. I remembered wanting to make fried pickles and wandered to the isle which held the neatly stacked jars. It was in this isle that I first spotted him.<br />
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He was reading an ingredient label so intently he didn't notice I said excuse me. I wanted the customary few moments before again saying, this time with feeling, "Excuse me." He jumped a little and looked at me puzzled, like he'd forgotten where he was. I reached for a jar of pickles on the shelf in front of him and smiled slightly. He returned the smile and apologized for being in my way. I shook my head and said, " You have nothing to apologize for. That label must be very well written."<br />
<br />
He laughed and said something about how it could use an editor. I smiled and turned to go. "Do you like that brand best?" I heard him call out. I turned and now he a jar in each hand, a look of sincerity on his face. His light blue button down shirt had wilted in the heat, the crispness of the starch gone. His pants were in better shape, still creased but out of place atop of rubber flip flops. He closed the small gap between us and as I spoke, I could smell leather and old spice.<br />
<br />
"I like this brand just fine. It's perfectly average." A small grin grew on his face at my answer. He relaxed a little and I noticed that the frame around his green eyes were bent.<br />
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"I guess if you are buying pickles from this place, you can't expect more than average," his reply tinged with disappointment. He placed both the jars back on the shelf and turned back to me. "What are you going to make with those average pickles anyway?" I started to walk toward the front of the store and he followed.<br />
<br />
"I'm going to make fried pickles. It's the best way to transform anything average into fantastic," I said noticing how comfortable I was talking to this stranger.<br />
<br />
"You are a wise woman," he replied and I thanked him. We talked all the way to the cash register and after I checked out, he offered to walk me to my car. I told him I couldn't let him do that, I would make it too easy for this van of kidnappers to spot me. He laughed and said he only kidnaps people on weekends. Our conversation ebbed and flowed as walked to my car. I was vaguely aware of time passing but wasn't sure in which direction.<br />
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After minutes or hours or days of talking in the almost vacant parking lot, he asked if we could maybe talk again in a different setting, some place that had already prepared food. I replied I would enjoy talking in a quiet booth in a dimly lit restaurant where live jazz peppered the air. He asked if Jane Austin was a friend of mine, an old one I answered.<br />
<br />
I give him my number and he left me with a happy smile and promises of frequent calls to reassure himself that I was not a figment of his imagination.<br />
<br />
I wanted to love him.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-88973380004915694222012-08-25T17:16:00.001-05:002013-01-04T08:09:25.566-06:00American Bible Challenge AKA, You Don't Know Jack About JesusSo remember way back at the beginning of the summer when I want to that tryout for a new game show? Hosted by Jeff Foxworthly? About the bible? You can read about my adventure <a href="http://iamjustsyd.blogspot.com/2012/06/american-bible-challenge-hits-dallas.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Anyway, so the show premiered, Yay!! It made it to the air, how wonderful is that? I watched the first episode and you know what? It was a good show. The first thing that struck me was how relatable the people were on the show. I felt like these people I could have easily met at a BBQ or church picnic or, if we are honest with each other, neighborhood bar.<br />
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The show consist of six, yes six, rounds. I felt this was a bit much but they do have an hour to fill. The first four rounds are there to prove who really knows their bible and who just memorized the answers to Trivial Pursuit. The fifth round is where the questions really get hard and eliminates the weakest team. The six round is a classic game of who can answer the most questions in one minute. The questions are all from one subject, this week Women of The Bible, and the teams are given about thirty minute to study and refresh.<br />
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I enjoyed watching the show and got a nice surprise that I could hang with the trivia until the last round. I'm glad it's a good quality game show and hope it becomes a regular occurrence.<br />
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Here is a trailer for the show if you still haven't seen it:<br />
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I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-9514509239533417972012-07-24T12:20:00.000-05:002012-07-24T12:20:18.428-05:00Southwest Airlines, I accept your apology.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bFR6PFJcMBo/UA7Ssm7D7tI/AAAAAAAADNo/aVF0Bu4XW6E/s1600/SWAusorry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bFR6PFJcMBo/UA7Ssm7D7tI/AAAAAAAADNo/aVF0Bu4XW6E/s400/SWAusorry.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view on my way back to Dallas.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So remember that post I wrote earlier this month about my experience flying into Chicago? If not, you can read that <a href="http://iamjustsyd.blogspot.com/2012/07/true-cost-of-bags-flying-free.html">here</a>. It's a detailed account of everything that went wrong and the letter I wrote to a SWA senior vice president about how disappointed I was with Southwest.<br />
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Thanks to a Facebook friend, who sent me a link to this blog: <a href="http://www.frommers.com/articles/6806.html" target="_blank">How to Complain To Airlines</a>, I decided to act like the rational person I kept insisting I was and send a strongly worded email to the airline. The email I sent is based on the letter in my blog, the main difference being length, as the email form had a character limit, and an additional request to reimburse me the extra cost I incurred getting to my destination. <br />
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So what happened you ask? A few days after I sent the email, I got a reply from Tenicia, who works at Southwest. I fully expected for her to apologize and tell me how sorry she was for my bad experience and then deny my request for reimbursement. And this of course happened. What happened next is what took me by surprise.<br />
<br />
She told me she was going to refund the purchase of my plane ticket. Not give me a voucher toward my future purchase but actual refund my money. I was surprised by the offer but cause most airlines will do anything to not give you your money back and actually this is what I wanted, my money back. Of course I was skeptical as she said it would take one to two billing periods to process the refund. I thought for sure my request would get lost in piles of electric paperwork.
So it was a pleasant surprise yesterday when I checked my credit card account and discovered Southwest had already processed the refund (It took about a week from the time the email was sent to the time I got the refund). I wanted to hug Southwest for being decent human beings.
<br />
<br />
I know what you're thinking, "You're content to just get a refund for a botch plane flight?! Why aren't you suing for partial ownership of the airline?" The answer is yes, a refund is good enough and here's why. The cost of the plane ticket was close enough to the extra cost I incurred that a refund was good enough to satisfy me. That and thought I was made to feel like I didn't matter, the fact that I got an actual person to send me an email and tell me, "I'm sorry. We totally dropped the ball on handling this well," made me feel like a person again.<br />
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Yeah, this unplanned diversion changed my vacation plans but nothing too terrible happen and it gave me a chance to have a bit of an adventure. On my impromptu road trip, I got to visit eight states and spent sometime driving through some beautiful parts of the good ole US of A. Was the drive from Nashville to St. Louis to Minneapolis tedious? Of course but I got to spend it with two of my favorite people and now we have a story to tell about the vacation that started with an unplanned road trip.<br />
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So Southwest Airlines, I accept your apology. You owned up to making a mistake and did what you could to make it somewhat right. Will my next plane trip be with you? Probably not but the one after that probably will be. Here's to having unplanned adventures and being a decent human being.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-15477072002937989082012-07-10T15:49:00.002-05:002012-07-11T16:56:46.406-05:00The true cost of Bags Flying Free<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Every year for the Fourth of July, I go to Chicago to visit family. Also around this time is my cousin's neighborhood famous birthday party. Celebrated with ridiculous amounts of food, friends and fun this is an event I greatly anticipate attending. I mean who wouldn't like a party with tons of home cooked food and a corner fireworks show that could at many moment light someone on fire?<br />
<br />
This year, the weekend prior to the Fourth was also my family's reunion in Minneapolis. This was the first time in decades I had been to this family's (my father's mother's side of the family) reunion and my first trip to Minnesota. I'd planned to fly into Chicago the day before the reunion and drive to Minneapolis for the weekend. This solved the problems of a) having a car, as we would rent it in Chicago and have it for the length of our trip and b) being able to afford to fly to Minneapolis (as the air fare was twice the cost of flying into Chicago). But everyone knows about best laid plans – rarely do they usually don't go according to, well, plan.<br />
<br />
The night I left Dallas, June 29th, there was a freak thunderstorm in Chicago and it knocked out the power at both airports, Midway and O'Hare. My plane was diverted to quite possibly the worse airport it could have been diverted to, Nashville, TN. What's wrong with Nashville, you ask? It's an airport in a small market. All the flights out of the city were already sold out before I was stranded there. So me and 300 other people were trying to get to Chicago on eight flights already sold out.
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<br />
Remember my great plan to drive to Minneapolis from Chicago? Now, not happening. I'm not used to being stuck anywhere without a backup plan, blame girl scouts or too many crime shows but being prepared is important to me. This was the first time is years I had a problem I didn't have a solution to. I felt helpless and forgotten and the airline I was flying, Southwest, did little to help me feel otherwise. Here's the letter I composed to sent to their Customer Service department. I tried to find an email address associated with an actual human being who would read it in a timely matter and respond but apparently company email addresses are a trade secret at Southwest Airlines.
<br />
<br />
So here, for the internet to read, is my letter of disappointment. I won't say I'll never fly Southwest again but I can tell you my bags flying "free" will no longer be a reason I go to them first.</span><br />
<blockquote>
Dear Teresa Laraba, SVP of Customer Service, </blockquote>
<blockquote>
As the Senior Vice President of customer service and a person who is very proud to work for a company known the world over for its customer service, I would like to inform you of the trip I took Thursday June 29th. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
I left Dallas at 8:30 pm on my way to Chicago, IL. I am sure you are aware of the Wright Amendment preventing Southwest from flying directly out of Love Field into Chicago's Midway airport. This meant my plane into Chicago had to come from Houston's Hobby airport. My flight left Houston around 10pm and once it was in the air, a severe thunderstorm in Downtown Chicago causes Midway (and O'Hare) airports to shutdown. This caused all incoming flights to this airport to be diverted. The flight I was on was diverted to Nashville, TN. Before the plane was unloaded, we were told that all the flights for the next day were already sold out and that the line we needed to stand in to talk to a Southwest representative already had 300 people in it.<br />
<br />
After waiting in this line for two hours, I was told by the gate agent the only way I could fly out of the airport was to fly standby and I was not guaranteed a seat on a flight to Chicago until Saturday evening. I was also told I could not stay in the terminal over night as the airport was closing. I asked where I was supposed to go for the night, and the gate agent shrugged her shoulders. By this time it was 3:30 in the morning. I was tired, as I had worked all day, and extremely frustrated to be in a city where I knew no one, had no way of leaving and was apparently going to be until Saturday night.<br />
<br />
Because I had no place to sleep that night, I stayed up and waited in the ticket counter line so I could speak to someone as soon as the counter opened. I should mentions one of the reasons I chose to fly instead of drive from Dallas to Chicago was because of time. I needed to be in Chicago before 8:00 am Friday, June 30th but had to be at work on Thursday, June 29th. If my schedule was not time sensitive, I would have driven to my destination. Now, because my flight had been diverted, do to an event no one could have prevented or predicted, I missed my deadline. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
When the counter opened at 4:30am I spoke with an associate and asked her if she could put me on standby to any flight going to Minneapolis, MN. She refused to do this, and told me Southwest is only contractually obligated to get me to Chicago. I told her I needed to be in Chicago June 30th by 8:00am and since that was an impossibility because of the storm, now what I needed was to be in Minneapolis as soon as possible. She told me the reason I missed my window was not the fault of Southwest and that Southwest only had to get me to Chicago, the earliest time available was a 9:55pm flight Friday, June 30th, evening and there was a possibility that I might get a seat on that flight. <span style="background-color: white;"> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
I told the associate I was aware of the fact that no one asked for the storm nor was I blaming or trying to hold Southwest at fault for this event but want I needed as a customer was to be in Minneapolis, not Chicago, tonight. She told me I didn't understand, that Southwest wasn't responsible for getting me to anyplace but Chicago. I asked her if she would please speak to a manager about this issue as I was told something different by the gate agent the evening before. She did ask her manager and once again told me I didn't understand, that Southwest was only obligated to get me to Chicago.<span style="background-color: white;"> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
This was when I walked away from the ticket counter as the associate didn't seem to understand my needs as a customer. It was 5:00am Friday morning at the time and I had been up for twenty four hours, I had been stranded in an airport that I was incapable of leaving for probably two days, I was offered no hotel or rest area to stay in until I could arrange for alternative travel and most disappointingly, my problem was not seen as important enough for someone to help me find another solution to my problem. Thought the storm inconvenienced a large number of people, all I wanted was some service and to know I mattered as a customer. This Is not how I felt at any point in time that I was stranded at the Nashville airport.<br />
<br />
In order to get to my destination, I had to find alternative means (renting a car and driving) which caused me to incur an additional cost of $202. This made me rethink my decision to fly with Southwest knowing that if I had taken American Airlines, Delta, or United, not only would I have had been put in a hotel over night, I would have had a seat on another plane, what another airline if necessary, the next day. I am also aware that this type of customer service would have given to me at no additional cost.<br />
<br />
After the poor handling of this situation, I can not say that Southwest will be an airline I do business with for quite sometime. You have lost my trust as a company that can fulfill its promises on service agreements. I know this was an event no one expected but the handling of this situation was extremely disappointing and frankly not worth the $60 in additional baggage fees I "saved" by flying SW.<br />
<br />
Sorely disappointed,<br />
<br />
Sydnie Montgomery</blockquote>I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-73588354806076194342012-06-15T16:59:00.001-05:002012-06-16T03:51:37.308-05:00Dreaming A little Dream*Sorry I didn't edit it before. I was in a rush but that isn't really an excuse. Here, version two. I think it's a bit better. Also, I must tell you about my night watching the hipster and the homeless in the social tango of friday nights in Dallas.<br />
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The fire red sky peeks through my blinds, teasing me awake. My eyes, forever obedient to the light and not my brain slowly open to a dimly lit room filled with grey shapes tinted in faded greens and blues. I turn to glance at my clock, worried I'd over slept and it's green eyes whisper, "It's three oh eight, sleep child, sleep." My rushing heart calms and I turn back to the soft mountain of pillows that makes up my headboard.<br />
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I wonder if the special ops people in my dream got out of the building before the missiles blew up the floors we were on. As I slip back into oblivion, the panic I felt in the dream becomes thick and oppressive. I feel a need to rush but I'm not sure what I should be rushing to. I see people in front of me surrounded by mountains of broken armor and debris. They are talking but it's hard to make out what the subject is. They don't seem to notice me. This makes me wonder if I have some kind of optical camo or if I'm just not worthy of their attention. I notice how this is the case in most of my dreams. They madly kick and rake the piles with their hands looking for something. I walk past them and one of them mumbles something about survivors and loose ends. I make my way out of the room, which is so large the scale frightens me. It would appear the room was full of people before it was full of unwanted remains.<br />
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I walk down a flight of stairs wide enough to drive a vehicle down and find a team of people who are familiar to me. They seem to know me more than I know them. They ask if I am okay, I assure them I am fine, one man in particular seems concerned with my well being. He is rather striking with intese grey eyes and a chin that last saw a razor a few days ago. He looks tired and holds my gaze longer than what's comfortable. No one says anything for a heartbeat before he suddenly starts barking orders to the small team. Team is almost a stretch as there are only five of us. I have a feeling that recently our team was much larger. The three other people rush to obey and I am left with the man with the commanding eyes. He says nothing to me but we look at one another, our eyes unable to look away from each other. Nostalgia rises in my chest as he steps closer and I know I meant something to this man. I look at his face and his eyes are red around the edges, recent tears hiding in his crow's feet. I open my mouth to say something but one of the team returns. They are talking but I can't understand what they are saying. Someone is playing the piano. The rest of the team returns quickly as the music gets louder. I start to feel like someone is pulling me from another dimension. At least, I imagine this is what it feels like to be pulled from another dimension.<br />
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The room starts to fade from around me. The team doesn't seem worried and neither do I. The music is getting louder as the room vanishes and again my eyes slowly open to a loud rumble from the other side of the window. The melancholy piano beckons me to awake and I reach for my third hand, alarm clock and general life device, my phone. I silence it into letting me dream for fifteen more minutes and caress the softest of my pillows as I reach for oblivion again. The storm clouds outside lull me to a dreamless sleep.<br />
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I miss the man with the intense eyes. I wonder of he misses me.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-20443082255692725552012-06-11T11:11:00.000-05:002012-06-11T11:11:27.358-05:00Showing Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fridays go one of two ways at work for me. Either they are full of unrealistic amounts of work that need to be finished before I leave or they are painfully dull as I will have nothing to do. Okay, that is slightly untrue, but from my perspective it is. Last Friday, June 8th, was somewhere in the middle of that scale, full of waiting on other people so I could finish assignments. While I was waiting, I came upon this <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/george-elerick/jesus-in-drag-straight-christians-comes-out-for-book_b_1569051.html?" target="_blank">article</a> on HuffPo | Religion. I mean with a title like Jesus in Drag, how could I not read it?<br />
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What I expected to be an article that bashed the church for its non acceptance of gays or about some radical protest that included drag queens dressed as Jesus. What I got was the story about how a straight man, Timothy Kurek, learned to step outside his comfort zone and identify with the gay community. He did a social experiment were he lived as a gay man for a year and at the time he wasn't planning on writing a book but as the year went on, he felt compelled to share his experience with others.<br />
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What struck me about the article was his description about being in the closet and how detrimental it was for him:<br />
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<span style="color: white;">The combination of knowing I had to constantly hide my true attractions and orientation, with the reality that I couldn't even hope for the possibility having a relationship, was overwhelming. And what I went through is NOTHING compared to the experience of the average gay and lesbian. They were never able to say "only 12 or eight or six more months of this before I get to be me again."</span></blockquote>
As a women who doesn't have to hide the fact that I'm attracted to men, I still have a hard time approaching men to show them I am interested. Mostly because I'm scared they won't be interested in me but also I'm afraid their reaction will include ridiculing me for being interested in them. If I was attracted to women, I have no idea how I would handle it. How could I handle constant rejection from people passing me on the street? Have you seen the way people look at LGBT couples as they walk down the street, it's terrible. If I did approach a woman I thought was attractive and she reacted violently to my interest, how would I handle that physically and emotionally? Reading that article gave me new respect and love for my gay friends. It also reminded me that I have a lot to learn about relating to people and showing them Christ's love.<br />
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I'm a firm believer in the fact that we serve up the bible in America with a generous slathering of cultural bias. We spend so much time using the bible to justify our ridiculous live styles, we miss the real truth present in it. We have become so weighted down by possessions and expectations that if someone were to live their life according to the principles in the Word, we wouldn't recognize it as biblical living. We would either put that person on a pedestal and tell them how much better they are than us and how we could never do what they do or we would write them off as crazy, telling them they are taking the bible too seriously and avoid them so we wouldn't feel guilty when they came around.<br />
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I'm not saying because of this article I'm going to sell all my possessions and tour around the country yelling scripture from the top of my lungs but it has made me keenly aware of how I view people and how I treat them when they are in my presence. Here's to showing people the love of Christ and making good first impressions.I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-64075472722175033702012-06-10T20:55:00.000-05:002012-06-10T21:05:39.038-05:00Gramblings! It has begun.For what seems like ten years, me and my friend Mattie have been talking about starting a podcast. We also talked about making a transmediated Pride and Prejudice and seventeen other projects but of course all those things had to take a back seat to school. Now that school is over, we have this interesting thing called leisure time. Time to do one of those seventeen project and the first one we picked is the podcast.<br />
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You should know that Mattie and I are basically the same person. We like a lot of the same kinds of things, laugh at the same jokes and genuinely enjoy spending time together. When we first met, we would spend a long time talking in the parking lot after class because we like making each other laugh so much. It was after one of these many parking lot conversations that we had the idea that we should record our parking lot talks and put them on the internet. We started calling these talking sessions Gramblings because they were general ramblings we had while in grad school. We recorded the first one this past Saturday and had so much fun we went over our agreed upon time limit. </div>
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So for your listening pleasure, here is the first episode of Gramblings. It's work and kids safe so listen whenever you want. Or RIGHT NOW!<br />
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You can follow us on twitter too, <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/wearegramblings" target="_blank">@wearegramblings</a>.<br />
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<br /></div>I Am Just Sydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220556191213322786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4366598340612086626.post-42654724847836217312012-06-04T08:05:00.000-05:002012-06-04T08:24:47.253-05:00American Bible Challenge Hits Dallas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In an effort to achieve one of my goals I talked about in a previous post, I ventured out to Vista Ridge Mall Saturday to take some pictures. I was informed that an open casting call was taking place for a new game show on The Game Show Network. It's going to be hosted by Jeff Foxworthy and the title of the show is American Bible Challenge. From the sound of it, the show is going to feature contestants from around the nation who know the bible the best.<br />
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Having not heard of the show before, I did what every person who uses the internet does when they need information, I Googled it. What I found was various blogs and articles asking more questions than providing answers. I did find the basics of the show, those being that eighteen teams of three will compete for a charity that will be the beneficiary of the competing team's winnings. How these teams will compete, how long the show will be on and how much bible knowledge you need to know to actually get on the show Google couldn't tell me. I decided it was time I go see for myself. I recruited my mom and her best friend to join me and we headed out to Lewisville.<br />
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When we got to the mall, the audition was easy enough to fine as it was located just inside a popular mall entrance. We first saw a crowd of around two dozen people standing, in movie queue formation, to the right of a pair of well lit stages. The stage on the right was small and had a background with the logo of the show repeated on it, like you would see on a red carpet. A few feet to the left of this stage was a much larger one framed with boldly designed banners announcing the presence of GSN and the American Bible Challenge. To the left of the main stage was a table covered in American Bible Challenge swag and signage and next to that table was a table for the local christian radio station. As contemporary christian pop music blared, we absently took up the clipboards we were handed and strode to our place in line.<br />
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As we filled out the forms, the standard "we want to get to know ya!" kind, we struck up a conversation with the lady in front of us. Her name was Clara and she was from Lewisville. She'd heard about the audition on the radio and wanted to participate because it was something completely different. She also wanted to support anything that would encourage people to see Christ in a positive light as she felt society has been discouraging people to have faith. She had one more reason she wanted to audition for the show, a reason I sympathize with, and that was she wanted to see a Hispanic person competing. I looked around and out of the thirty or so people present only half a dozen were people of color. Knowing that Dallas has a huge African American and Hispanic church going population, it was sad to not see more people who looked like me.<br />
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We waited in line for about ninety minutes and I got a chance to take a few pictures. Unfortunately, we didn't get to try out for the show as my mom had an appointment to get to. We left Clara and told her we would be rooting for her if she ended up on the show. All in all, it was a good idea to try something new.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So, you wanna be on tv?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom filling out the forms.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The eager crowd. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lady looked fabulous in her pink.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KLTY was there giving away a lot of prizes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Bible Challenge Swag.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was delightful, the table attendant. </td></tr>
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