tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post116711971203521655..comments2023-10-06T05:41:41.722-07:00Comments on Phat Girl Walking: Say YesAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00455081863875951288noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167766460294755502007-01-02T11:34:00.000-08:002007-01-02T11:34:00.000-08:00By the way, I was graded on my last semester, as I...By the way, I was graded on my last semester, as I found a way into the on-line grading system, the method which seems to be regarded as a national secret. I had a hell of a semester, which included reading 32 books. I am sitting in front of my bookcase right now, and just counted the books I was required to read. Three months ago, when faced with this reading list, I started crying, and had an anxiety attack. Not about the number, but about the subjects. Not one subject or author that I would have selected for myself. That was my first experienced of 'faith' in an academic setting. All good reads, and all authors that changed my life. As well, the first day, when I discovered that my professors were trained in Rome, I have never had such certainity that enrolling in school was the biggest mistake of my life. Little did I know, that these professors would make me sound and look like a kitten. Mid-semester, after publically confronting the skin-head "Chad," who was in all of my classes, I thought I was toast. Little did I understand about my professors and the environment that I was in. <BR/>I am not an academic, nor am I a theologian, historian, literary critic, nor the basic brillant student. Entering school at 58 was a leap of faith, and a desire to answer the irritating call for personal change and re-entering life. What can I say? Three A's, and they were not expected.<BR/>LindaLinda Stipehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13188363900548993931noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167765454839223492007-01-02T11:17:00.000-08:002007-01-02T11:17:00.000-08:00WoW Girl, this was the best post I have read in al...WoW Girl, this was the best post I have read in along time! From anyone. I am so glad I read it as I am going down into the basement again, to face, "The Octopus." I have spent the last three days encircling it in a plastic bubble, walls and floors. I have spent hours down there, doing this. "FACING THE OCTOPUS." That is the preliminary to the activity that I face: dismantling it. It looks like a sterile field now, laced with hanging lights, and lights on stands. It is quiet down there right now, the WAR about to begin. I have the surgery table equipped with every tool necessary to the removal of the large air ducts, and heating vents. They are overly large, a comment on post WWII, where everything was done in regard to the next frightening world event. Have I ever removed a furnace larger than a car? No, I haven't. Have I thought about it for the last twenty-five years that I have lived in this house? Yes, too many times. I am at the point where I am tired of thinking about it. That is the point of spiritual resurrection, when we are tired of thinking about something, and willing to do what it takes to face "THE OCTOPUS." I imagine that somehow, I will not return to the steps that lead to the family room upstairs. That I will be trapped and encircled in suffocating plastic, hating myself, and my great ideas. I imagine this and I imagine that. I am solving the control of my mind by stroking and hefting two large hammers, found on the end of a three foot wooden shaft. Sledge Hammers. Doing this makes me feel like Rocky Balboa, and makes me feel like I am not alone, and will not go alone into that dark night of fear. The dogs are out in the van. They do not want to get out of the van. They smell something, and it terrifies them. I threw some bones in there, left the sliding door open, and told them: "You are on your own, you know where I'll be."<BR/>LindaLinda Stipehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13188363900548993931noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167749496912340872007-01-02T06:51:00.000-08:002007-01-02T06:51:00.000-08:00Thanks for this post. Sometimes I think we say no ...Thanks for this post. Sometimes I think we say no because we don't think we deserve it. I'm going to post: "Say Yes" on my bulletin board.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167726842324718872007-01-02T00:34:00.000-08:002007-01-02T00:34:00.000-08:00Tomorrow must be my day to begin something which w...Tomorrow must be my day to begin something which will allow me to be more likeable, more fun, more energetic, more the me I know is still inside somewhere. Maybe I'll find me under the 15 lbs. I've been dragging along. <BR/>Thank you, my friend...Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167705895311896052007-01-01T18:44:00.000-08:002007-01-01T18:44:00.000-08:00What a wonderful post - thank you Anita.What a wonderful post - thank you Anita.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31100108.post-1167702192752867332007-01-01T17:43:00.000-08:002007-01-01T17:43:00.000-08:00Anita..as I was reading your post I was wondering ...Anita..as I was reading your post I was wondering how you knew so much about me when we've never met. I can't do anything I want because I WON'T even try. I want the 5-minute rice. The only problem with that is it's usually fails and you end up throwing it out. <BR/><BR/>This the first day of a new year is the first day of a new beginning. All the past attempts, failures and disappointments are just that ... the past. I can learn from them but I can't let them control who I am and where I'm going.<BR/><BR/>Today...YES.dixiehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06850709122439117679noreply@blogger.com