-Nancy

If you are feeling troubled or losing sleep over the question above, there is good news for you. I personally believed that no matter how bad your situation seems to you, you definitely still stand a chance to get your girlfriend back.

Of course, don't expect it to be extremely easy. You still need a bit of patience to get your girlfriend back. This is something that should not be rushed. But don't think that it is so difficult that you decided to give up.

Miracles are always happening day in day out. There are couples who can get reunited even after several decades of separation. For example recently, I just read about a couple who get reunited after 30 years of separation.

If this kind of miracles can happen, you can also create miracles in your relationship too.

Obviously, you don't want to take 30 years to get your girlfriend back. You want to get your girlfriend back fast. Obviously, it would be unrealistic to expect yourself to get her back overnight.

But there are definitely things you can avoid so that you will not slow down your progress.

First and foremost, avoid doing things that makes you look desperate and needy. Girls do not like desperate and needy guys. In fact, this applies to guys too. You definitely will not like a desperate and needy girl.

So, you will want to avoid doing things like begging her to come back, telling her how much you miss her and how much you have been thinking of her etc. You also do not want to call her too often or argue over the break up.

Perhaps, understanding this principle will also help you in getting your ex back. What you must know is that "People want what they cannot have or cannot easily have."

This is just like money. If people don't have money, they will usually desire it more. If people can get money easily, they will start to chase after things that money cannot buy.

The mistakes describe above all violates the principle mentioned. By avoiding all these mistakes, it will help to get you ex back. If you have already made those mistakes, don't worry. There is an opening move that you can use to reverse your situation. In fact, it may even improve your situation.

Expectations. I always tell myself not to expect. But last night, my heart got the better of me and i built myself up on seeing him today. It's not his fault i know. But aahh. It just happens.

One of the reasons why i hold myself back.

So move on. What do I do now?

Well, I should go bathe for one. Then eat. And continue my day as if I'm not going out.

A lot of the clutter I see in my life comes from my family and sometimes my friends. I love them but they do have their tenancies to get overwhelming. I always saw my self doing something great with my life, but I also want to be with the people I love and experience life with them. There are some problems in that equation. I feel as though nothing truly great resides where I live currently. I live in a small area full of people and companies, most of which aren't huge in the world. I would like to think that if I did something, it'd be to better the world but I don't know if I can do that here. Basically, I want to move, see the world and draw in experiences from different places and people. Honestly, I don't want to leave my friends...I want to leave my family, which I think is normal for someone of my age.

I feel as though one of my friends might be holding me back. I love her dearly, so I say this with the best intentions. I always thought I would be doing things in a spontaneous way. On a whim. She however plans everything, which works for her. She doesn't want to move anywhere unless she already has a job waiting, an apartment waiting and knows what's going on. I however don't understand how you can have a life somewhere you've never been. There has to be some planning for the future, like I would either take enough money with me to get a place to stay or have someone waiting to help me out with rooming accommodations. So I was thinking about this lately, and I discuss it with her and she seems to think I'm crazy. She explicitly told me that I cannot go anywhere that I don't have a place to live and a job to earn money from. I told her what I thought on all this, and as my best friend she barred me from going anywhere without mainly these two qualifications.

Would my friend qualify as clutter? She said she would follow me, if I moved appropriately. Would this be a good situation? Lots of questions are running through my head.

   

      Sexuality, is like duct tape. The first time you use it, it sticks to whomever it touches. But just like that duct tape, if your rip it off and then touch it to someone else, it isn't as sticky as it was before. So what happens when you pull it loose from one partner after another? You just don't stick anymore, your sexual partners seem like strangers, and you stop feeling anything.

 For some "sowing your wild oats" is a better way of understanding. But at most, it's an underlying, un-detectable action, that is blind to most women.

    Ripping the duct tape off is extremely painful as well, especially the first time – just as the break-up of a sexual relationship can be more painful than a regular one. It may seem progressively easier to "tear off" with subsequent partners, but you can't make it stick on command when you finally decided to commit.
Science confirms that this isn't just a clever illustration.  Consider oxytocin, a chemical that, among other things, encourages bonding of mates.  More about it here.  It is no wonder why people form sexual addictions and why encouraging people to experiment with any sexual behavior will lead to some sticky situations...

:)

This afternoon we were slightly alarmed though when we saw the JCB, which has now become very much a piece of the landscape round here, approaching out house with Bob the Builder Claude le Constructeur in the scoop. Slightly worried that they had been on the pineau at lunch and were about to start attacking the wrong house, we rushed outside.

Turns out that the nice chaps had spotted some loose tiles on our roof while they were up on next-door's roof and were setting about fixing them for us. For nothing. I know, it just wouldn't have happened in England.

Note the usual high-priority given to health & safety concerns here...Yes, they are electricity cables overhead. No, he's not wearing a hard-hat or a harness. Yes there is a small child playing underneath... :)

Isn't it great?

Les bandes engazonnées sont coupées

La place du village est en cours de jet-lavés

Dans la rue il ya des bannières de publicité pour notre marché

L'allée "Anglais" au supermarché se développe de plus en plus chaque semaine.

Il peut seulement signifier une chose - les touristes sont à venir!

So it was with some trepidation that on Saturday I stood on the court at the Foussais sports hall about to take part in the Handball tournament as a member of "The School Team": Myself, Francois-Marie and 3 dads from school. I wasn't quite sure how I managed to get roped into it. I think partly through my usual trick of just saying "Ah oui, c'est bon" when I'm in a french conversation, which will no doubt get me into all sorts of trouble, but also partly because I thought it would be fun.

At 10 minutes before "kick-off" though, the thought of "fun" was replaced with thought like "I don't actually know any rules" and "The opposition are all half our age and 10 times as fit" and "Do my legs actually still work these days?".

It was a "sans-license" tournament, so there were all sorts of different teams there, of all abilities, ages, shapes and sizes. Molly had a team made up of some of her usual under-12s girls team. We borrowed two of them to be our substitutes, joined by Rosie, who was keen to get involved but missed out on joining the girls from her usual team by virtue of not asking them :) It was a league arrangement, split into two groups - the older folks in one group and the younger ones in another. With 10 teams altogether, it worked out quite nicely.

So, I'm there thinking that I'll be able to have a bit of a practice and size up the opposition for a while, only to find out that we were on first - talk about pressure! Luckily there was a lot of "Home" support and everyone was very encouraging. And after seeing my team-mates warming up I was feeling a bit more encouraged. Although Francois-Marie claimed he hadn't played for ages, he failed to mention that he must have been a fantastic player the last time he played, as he was rather amazingly good. Along with Olivier and Christophe, both also still in fine form, I felt happy that I could leave the hard work to them...

Anyway, the first match started and unfortunately I soon discovered that in handball everyone has to do the hard work. It's not like football, where as a defender you can hang around at the back while the guys with all the skill take the ball and score all the goals. Oh no. In handball you're up and down the pitch as one, passing to and fro, probing the defence for a gap, looking for an opportunity to score. Then, as quick as a flash the tide can turn and you're sprinting back down the pitch trying to catch up with a teenager going at 60mph with the goal in his sights!

After a long hard fight, we were drawing at 4-4, until the dying seconds when the opposition scored a final goal to beat us 5-4. What a shame! But it had been a good effort. Individually, I had been pretty poor, I don;t mind admitting. I had never even handled a handball before and so I was taking a while getting used to the feel of it, how to dribble it and pass it about. It's a small ball, but quite light and very bouncy, so it really takes some getting used to.

The next match we also lost, although I felt my performance was a bit better this time. I was still a bit of a muppet when trying to catch & pass the ball in front of the goal area - not enough power in my throws still, but I worked hard in defense and got in a few good tackles.

By the third match, we managed a draw and I was really starting to get into the swing of things. I was surprised at how well I felt - I had imagined being flat on my back by now - but I was keeping going. it was great having the girls to call upon to give us a minute's break during the match though. They all really helped out and it was especially nice to see Rosie out there playing for us. I think it did her confidence some good and the trainer of her team must have been pleased to see her taking part.

Meanwhile, Molly's team were trying very hard. They were the youngest team by far, and so were struggling to make an impact against most of their opposition. But they kept on trying and, although I can't remember all the results, they played with great spirit, but lost most of their matches. We really felt for Molly - she was in goal for most of the matches, and the shots really did come raining down on her. But she put in a fine performance, pulling off some great saves and keeping her chin up. In a couple of games they had a "guest" keeper - Francois-Marie on one occasion - which gave Molly the chance to play out-field, which gave her a bit of a break from the onslaught between the sticks.

Everything stopped for lunch, when many people went home for something to eat. We had brought a small picnic, but couldn't resist the chips on sale outside... We had a drink at the bar and chatted to some of the locals. It was a nice opportunity for us all, as the only English there, to get involved with the villagers again. Lisa had a nice long chat with Thierry, the husband of Joe's teacher, who speaks no english at all, and found that he could understand her really well. She has really progressed over the last 6 months with her french - all it takes is a bit of confidence, which is starting to come now.

Once everyone had returned, all fed and watered (or beer-ed in a lot of cases), the afternoon continued. We played several more games as the arrangements got more and more complicated. I think it went something like: Losers of group 1 play losers of group 2. 4th place in group 1 play 4th place in group 2 etc.

As Molly's team were 5th in their group, and we were languishing in the same position in our group, both rather unfairly we thought, there was ultimately a match between us and the girls. This was good fun and I think everyone enjoyed it. Although, of course we tried our hardest and played as dirty as we could, we were simply outclassed by our younger, fitter counterparts and they thrashed us :)

This then gave us an overall table of all 10 teams. There were then play-offs between each pair of consecutive teams. So the teams in 10th and 9th place battled it out. Then 8th and 7th etc. to reach the final standings.

So we had one final match to give ourselves the glory of coming 9th. And guess what? We won! Quite amazingly we managed to win a game and proved to the world that we were not the worst team there on the day. Quite an achievement we felt.

Big praise to Molly's team though, who did fantastically well to come 5th. Congratulations girls, you were great!

Once again, we had had a thoroughly enjoyable day. Every single match was played with great spirit. they were competitive games, but always fair. There were no fights, no retaliation, no aggressive fouls, no arguments with the referee, no parents fighting on the touchline. Just a great, friendly atmosphere with great sport and great people. Every day we find more and more reasons to love it here, and that day added a whole lot more.

And although I now ache in all sorts of now and wonderful ways, I actually really enjoyed it. Perhaps there is life in the old dog yet... :)

She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity -- boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat?

Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?

Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

I survived my epic journey from home to Bristol and back (I hope all you English-speakers out there got the gist of my last post). The journey itself wasn't too bad, with no delays or cancellations for a change. It was nice to fly Air France and British Airways for a change - beats RyanAir for comfort and facilities any day, though sadly not for price...

On Saturday Molly had another handball tournament, this time on grass at Chavagnes-en-Paillers, on the way to Nantes. It was a fair old trek to get there, but it was a beautiful day, so it was quite an enjoyable drive. This time there were 5 teams in the same group as Foussais - all boys teams. I think they took one look at our team full of girls and imagined themselves wiping the floor (well, grass) with us. Luckily our girls put paid to that idea by thrashing each team by an average of about 6-1! Of course it did help that most of our players were about 3 feet taller than the others. They seemed to be up against under-8s, rather than under-12s, but hey, we weren't complaining!

Some fine goal-keeping by Molly again and some good attacking by the rest of the team gave us well-deserved victories in all the matches. So clearly we won the tournament - Allez Les Bleues!! We picked up a trophy and all the girls got medals and bags. Molly even won a handball board-game in the raffle, so it was a very productive afternoon. We, the Foussais supporters club (that's Me, Lisa, Rosie, Joe and one other parent - no-one else made the journey) enjoyed our afternoon baking in the sun. The tournament was on grass this time, so we had the picnic rug out and it was all very civilised - a bit nicer than the freezing cold days standing at football matches back in England...

While we're on the subject of handball, it appears that I have let myself in for some ritual humiliation on Saturday 14th June. When i took Molly to her practise last week I was collared by one of the dads there and asked if I wanted to be part of a handball team. "Moi?" I ask, racking my brains for all the words to describe how old, slow and unfit I am... "Mais, je suis...erm...lent...et....um...". "Ah oui," he insisted, "ça c'est pas grave...c'est pour l'amusent!". It turns out that it's a "Sans-License" tournament, which basically means that anyone can turn up and play, which generally seems to mean that its all for a bit of a laugh (or so I'm hoping). François-Marie, the head of Molly & Joe's school is taking part too, and we spoke to him about it last night. After he gave us the good news that he thinks Molly will be fine going up to college, (hurrah!), we filled him on on the story of the last time I engaged in any competitive sport - namely the school sports day Dad's race (I won't embarrass myself bore you with the details, but I fell and broke my collar bone in 2 places :( ) He was highly amused - I'm hoping that's not a sign that he feels I may be in similar danger again! People are asking if I have started training for the event...well I think my only preparation will be a handful of painkillers and perhaps a tot of pineau before we start, just to dull the pain on any injury's that are bound to follow...the injury to my pride when I let in every goal will just have to heal with time... :)

As it has been so sunny over the last few days, and spurred on by some lovely days round the pool at our friend's house, we decided we should get out our own pool, one of the 12-foot above-ground ones, that has been stuck in a box for the last 2 years. We bought a ground-sheet especially for the occasion, layed it out, stretched the hose and the power all the way to the bottom of the garden and started filling. It was about 3 hours later that we realised that it wasn't really going to work. The house is built on a hill, gradually sloping off down to the lake. And hence, that's where all the water in the pool was heading. We had a very deep end, and a very shallow end, and, unfortunately, the pool doesn't quite work like that. Of course, having partly filled it up, it then was impossible to move it. So we had to let most of the water out (we're on a water meter here folks...) so we could try to relocate it to a seemingly more level piece of ground. But sadly, there was no such place. The only place with anything like a level area is the field. Now, this is fine, we had plenty of space on the field, but it is a bit out of the way, down at the bottom of the lane. We had borrowed another hose-pipe in order to reach the pool where we had it previously. In order for it to reach the field I think we will need yet another! And then there is the electricity for the pump. I estimate a 60m extension lead will be required - if such a thing even exists...I really don't know.

Added to all these difficulties is the tiny, but not insignificant, hole that appeared in the pool, along the line on where it had been folded up. I tried patching it with duck tape, but to no avail. We need a patch to stop our precious water leaking away into the lake. Oh the things you do! Still, we'll get it sorted in the end and hopefully the kids will be able to enjoy the pool throughout the summer, as, if it's this hot in June, I look forward to seeing what it is like in July & August.

This morning, we picked up the sister from the airport after her tour in Kazakhstan against "butch girls" and escorts. As I waited for her at the Arrivals Hall, I thought to myself how great the airport was - it's people at their most basic forms; their emotions frazzled and tempers rising but also their joys coming more easily to the surface as people they love and who love them pick them up from the various different locations they've spent time in... it's a marvellous thing, that all these people are in transit, or back to where they belong. The ecstatic hugs and enthusiastic welcomes... nice.

It's all about life, and where we are at a certain moment. Because it's all there is - the moment where we realise that there is something bigger than our fears, our anxieties, our hopes... there is something bigger, and infinitely more important, more worthy. I found the illustration below quite interesting. What else are we striving for?

I've found that as I've grown older, my fears come more easily to the surface, and I'm more vulnerable to insecurities, where once I would have leapt head-first. Now, I find caution my second nature, and whilst there are many situations where I am myself, and the way God made me, I find it more easy to lapse into the voice that asks, "Can I do this? Am I capable of doing this? Is there a point to doing this?" rather than the voice that once easily said, "Let's go!"

So what am I striving for? Is it so easy to say that I'm always living for the growth of the Kingdom, and the love of Christ to be brought to the world? It's easier on some days than others, and I find that bringing Christ to the world is a different thing altogether to the everyday sort. Does that make any sense at all? I'm not so sure, sometimes.

I guess it's easy to search for the easy way out. Why else would the adjective be used so... easily?

Does your mother have a black dress?

No other credential program professor would tell this story. No other credential program professor would have this story. But because he’s Dr. Rosy, he’d tell us how he as a school teacher once dealt with a school bully.

This had to have happened in the mid-90s, in the first few weeks he taught 8th grade English in a high school somewhere in the Midwest.

The way he tells it, he came across an all-state athlete picking on some scrawny kid whose feet weren’t touching the ground. The lineman had the kid up by the collar.

Dr. Rosy — then Mr. Rosy, doctoral student — walked up to the bully and told him to put the kid down. The bully complied immediately. This kid must have been pushing iron since the 3rd grade, recalled Rosy.

This athlete was 6 feet 5 inches, with a solid 300 pounds of muscle, and now focused his attention on the upstart teacher.

A girl off to the side of the scene told the football player to just take care of Rosy already. Rosy wasn’t impressed; he asked the girl for her cell phone. She declined.

In that case, you call 911 and get an ambulance here. Well, maybe two. This guy’s so big he won’t fit in one.

Rosy was at least 43 years old and slightly shorter than the bully. A large-framed man even then, he would have been quite a bit smaller than the massive boy defiantly facing him, as if to challenge the teacher's authority with a show of muscle.

Rosy, unimpressed, asked the kid a question.

Does your mother have a black dress?

The bully didn’t understand, so Rosy repeated the question.

Does your mother have a black dress?

Rosy must have feigned pondering to himself for a moment. Knowing him, for dramatic effect.

Because she’ll need one in about four days. That’s about when the state buries you.

That’s about when the story ends with my class laughing hysterically, some laughing out of horror.

He never advocated using or threatening violence, of course, and made sure to say that.

You have to improvise, overcome and adapt to these situations.

That’s one way to look at it.

These impromptu anecdotes were the best part of my credential program. The most entertaining, the most useful, the most helpful, the most consoling. I always felt like I learned something from every one of his classes.

Cette semaine toutefois, ma présence a été demandé à Bristol. Qui ne serait pas si mal, si le voyage a coïncidé avec la Bristol à La Rochelle vols, mais il ne l'est pas. Je dois retourner demain, lorsqu'il n'ya pas de vols à La Rochelle. Donc, mon voyage pour 2 jours aller quelque chose comme ça ...

Conduire à Nantes, prendre le train pour Paris, prendre le métro à Charles de Gaule, prendre l'avion pour Londres Heathrow, prendre le train pour Londres Paddington, prendre le train à Maidenhead, prendre un taxi à mon hôtel. C'est la fin du jeudi, à environ 11pm, j'en suis sûr.

Ensuite, le vendredi-je obtenir ramassé de l'hôtel, conduire à Bristol, au travail pendant environ 4 heures, puis voler de Bristol à Paris, le métro de Paris à Montparnasse, prendre le train de Montparnasse à Nantes, puis passer à Foussais.

C'est un voyage de plus de 2000km!

Je pense que mon empreinte carbone sera assez grande de cette semaine et par Samedi je serai usé! Pas le temps de repos cependant, que Molly a un autre tournoi de handball le samedi ...

Click Here for More Info about: Secrets of a Millionaire Mind

 I've always dreamed about being rich. Having a palatial home...well actually zillions of palatial homes all of the world, lots of nice luxury cars to choose from, yachts and sailboats, exotic vacations and the whole thing!

Well, I have read MANY "How to Get Rich Books". So many that I can't even name them all right now. I have visualized and meditated, prayed and burnt incense. But nothing struck me like this book, "Secrets of A Millionaire Mind". My friend, Maleena, suggested it. I thumbed through her copy thinking, "Well, if she got it, it must be good." Just by thumbing through, I didn't know what I was about face.

I bought it. I read it and could not put it down. It spoke to me and told me EXACTLY what I was doing differently from rich people. I had read the Millionaire Mind (Click) some time ago and thought..."Yeah, ok. Let me try it." Although I was enlightened about the ways that rich people thought and their behaviors, I wasn't sure exactly how I varied.

After reading the Secrets of the Millionaire Mind, I felt like I had an action plan...or could comfortably start developing a serious action plan to becoming rich.

So, I challenge all of my readers to challenge ourselves and really attempt to do this! I read the book already, I am now creating my financial blueprint, tracking my networth...which by the way is negative...but he claims that by focusing on the net worth and systematically changing behaviors we can increase our net worth.

I like the book because it is specific to real life situations and we can all easily adapt the principles to our own lives without difficulty...that is, if we can overcome ourselves.

So, each week or when I feel like it, I will chime in on my discoveries and challenges, so that we can take this journey together. Feel free to comment, support, and challenge yourselves on gettin' rich!

So that you know where I am starting from, here is my current (but changing) situation:

* I am self-employed and thereby do not receive regular income payments on a schedule

* I am in my early-30s.

* College educated and currently in graduate school fulltime, even throughout the summers. Studying Film and Television, would like to have a successful, lucrative career as producer, director, and writer...among other things. I am very entrepreneurial and not afraid to take calculated risks.

* I am very opinionated and have been known to go toe to toe with upper management...which means I see everyone as equal regardless of social constructs like class, status, etc.

* I grew up in OAKLAND, California and have a background in business. Nonprofit Consulting was my first business. I started it in undergrad.

* In 2003, I was acknowledged as one of the East Bay Business Times 40 under 40, who have achieved career milestones before the age of 40 years old.

* I am ambitious and value professional accolades, however, I mostly value genuine personal relationships with my friends and family.

* Currently, single, no kids, Christian-esque, and African-American (born female- not a tranny) LOL!

* ON the financial level, I would be a SHINING example. LOL!

So, I challenge you to join me in this quest to Gettin' Rich!

Are you UP for the challenge?

LOL!

JSC

Tell me what you think.

Basically, handball is a cross between netball, basketball and football. The game is played with a very bouncy ball (about half the size of a basketball) and can be dribbled (with one hand) by the player as in basketball. The player can also run without bouncing, but only for 3 steps, after which they must pass the ball by throwing or bouncing it to a team-mate, as in netball. The "gardien" guards the goal much like a traditional football keeper - using any part of their body to defend the goalmouth - which resembles a football net, only much smaller.

And that is about the sum total of my knowledge of the rules. There are lots of official ones, but that's pretty much all we've managed to pick up on so far! handball is actually an Olympic event, so we will get to see it in Beijing in a few weeks time, which will be good.

Molly plays with the under 12s while Rosie is with the under 18s. They both really enjoy it, I think partly because it is something totally different, and also because it's a great opportunity to get to know some more friends from the village. Both teams have made the girls really welcome and it's so lovely to see them a part of something like this so soon after arriving here.

Anyway, on Sunday Molly had her first tournament. She's not officially able to play in proper matches yet as we haven't got round to getting a license organised yet (all sport teams require a doctors certificate before they will accept you into the team properly - a good system I think). But no matter, as this was a "sans-license" tournament, meaning that anyone could play. So Molly got to take part, which was great news.

The tournament was held at Les Magnils-Reigniers, about 40 minutes from us in another of the great sports halls that they have in most villages round here. it was a combination of 4 under-12 girls teams and 4 under-18 boys teams, with the matches alternating between boys and girls. This was a great arrangement as it made for a really exciting day. Although the girls do very well, watching the boys play is a totally different experience. It's a surprisingly fast and physical game and the chaps really do take it seriously. At times it was more like watching rugby than handball! But something that impressed us all was the spirit with which all the games were played. Although there were fouls, penalties and lots of very hard tackles, no-one got angry, no-one retaliated and there were always pats onthe back and hands shaken at the end of the match. The whole atmosphere was one of friendly excitement, with us visitors able to be neutral in the boys competition and enjoy the spectacle.

Back to the girls - Molly started as sub, but soon came on, getting involved in some attacks and defending well - she's twice the height of most of the girls in the team, so can use her size to her advantage. Sadly we lost the first match, but the girls played well. In the second game Molly went in goal and this seemed to be a stroke of genius from the coach. As she has not been playing as long as the others she is not quite as comfortable dribbling and shooting as the others, but, as mentioned, she is big and, more importantly, very brave. So when she stood between the posts, she managed to fill the space easily and did a terrific job of keeping goal. Unfortunately the outfield players couldn't manage to get the ball in the other net very well, so we lost that game as well. But i think everyone agreed that Molly was a good person to have in goal. For Molly, it was just like the old times with Healing Hotspurs, the local football team she was in back in England. There she spent many matches "between the sticks" and always proved a solid and fearless 'keeper.

Unfortunately, Foussais just couldn't manage to score the goals to get us a win until the final game of the day, where our well-deserved victory gained us 3rd place overall. Even though we didn't get the greatest results, I think the whole team enjoyed the day and we all had a great time. The only down-side was the hard wooden benches we had to sit on. Next time we'll have to bring cushions!

I've always gone next, discussing how I work from themes, first and foremost. This is changing and I want to explore that a little here.

I've first and foremost started with themes, especially when I knew what character I was using: Hutch Owen. From a starting point of a familiar character, themes would appear in the outside world that I would want to explore.

Here's a quick list of Hutch Owen stories and the themes I had hoped to explore:

Road to Self - how we change or don't change our ideals over time
Aristotle - what is freedom? creativity? as it relates to this character?
Emerging Markets - how have we colonized other cultures both through commerce and religion?

Mind you, a lot of these stories were also excuses to draw guys with sticks and bats pounding on a man dressed up as a sheep. But first came the idea to explore, the question, then the characters and situations. HOPEFULLY, at that point, those characters and situations developed organically, and became their own interesting narrative entities.

COMIC STRIPS

Since those stories, I've move into comic strips (for a host of reasons I'll go into some other time), and this is changing how I start, where I work from.

I recently finished 2 1/2 years of working with Hutch Owen as a daily comic strip character. Working with a stable of 4-8 continuing characters, my method is still to work from theme.

Friendship loyalty, male/female handling of the environment to silly things like Spiderman's effect on the culture are just a few of the themes I explored in the strip.

In another instance, a colleague eagerly asked me if I had done any work on the Dalai Lama or world peace, which he would like to feature in a show he was curating. I hadn't, but it was easy to make happen. With my characters, which represent particular kinds of reactions, wrestling around with the character of the Dalai Lama and the idea of world peace made for a fun and robust series of strips.
One of the main values for this as a creator, and one of my many reasons for switching to comic strips was that inventing situations and themes for the characters to explore, greatly expanded the characters themselves. They began revealing themselves to me in constant, ongoing new ways, in ways that couldn't happen with larger stories which tend to involve less invention and let's say it: more depth of exploration. The quickness of the comic strip allowed me to alight frequently on the personalities of the characters and explore new facets of their behavior. This is incredibly fun. And the nimbleness needed requires me to live constantly in the present. I digress.

Lately, in my newest strip I find myself playing less with themes, and more with situations. The overarching themes of the strip are traditional ones: sibling rivalry, the love of one's work, what does it mean to be new to a culture, plus what the heck is America about. Now I design situations to explore those themes: an Arab food stand in a mall, cousin's traipsing the woods outside their back yard, immigrant grandparents with their Americanized grandkids at dinner, etc.

So it's all about themes, situations, and invention. The invention comes from the initial thoughts, the hopeful power of the stories or strips comes from allowing invention and connection to flow without agenda.

Here's a sneak peak of a secret series of strips I'm making with my good pal Margo Dabaie.

What is reality TV? A seemingly simple question with many simple answers, if I were to ask you to name a reality TV show you would most likely come at me with The Real World, Big Brother, Survivor among others. But, to me the words “reality TV” make me think of Seinfeld.

That may seem silly to you, but when you look at it, it seems to make sense. Seinfeld is a show about fake people based on real people going through fake experiences based on real experiences whereas Big Brother and The Real World are about real people based on fake people experiencing events they have been conditioned to think are real when in reality they are entirely fake.

It sounds more complicated than it really is, you see, Seinfeld was written by two comedians; Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David, and they were also the basis of the characters “Jerry” and “George”. The character “Kramer” was based on a real neighbor of Larry David’s’ named Kenny Kramer. “Elaine” was an amalgamation of several different girlfriends the two writers had. Meanwhile the events that took place, more often than not, were based on real experiences that happened to the writers. “The Soup Nazi” is a real person, who actually owned a soup stand in New York, The Real Peterman Tour” was based on “The Real Kramer Tour” run by Kenny Kramer in New York. And that’s just off the top of my head.

On the other hand, The Real World and Big Brother is a show whose cast consists of real people who are based on fake people. They are fundamentally archetypes; they are the embodiment of a certain personality trait. Most of characters on these shows are people with one-sided personalities that represent a sub-culture, the proudly-gay drama queen, the airhead-blond southern belle, the militant, black panther-esque pity hound, or the ignorant, conservative, über-rich daddy’s girl. Not only are all these characters fake but the situations, they are phony as well. Twelve people locked in a house with someone leaving every week or a group of people stuck on an island who eat bugs and run around naked. These are all situations that only exist in reality because of the producers of the show made them up.

So, in conclusion (and in reality for that matter), I think that some of the most real things you can find on TV are completely scripted and rehearsed. That, boys and girls, is the real world.

 

 

 

Our concert was in La Chataigneraie and involved all the local private primary schools - 11 in all I believe. They have been practising the songs for the last 6 months or so and we have endured enjoyed them on a CD in the car for most of that time too. As is usually the case, we started off by finding the songs quite jolly and catchy. Then after a couple of months we really got sick of them. But hearing them performed at the concert was a totally different experience. All the kids did so well.

The concert took place in the sports hall at La Chataigneraie and there must have been around 200 children singing to an audience of around 600. All the kids were so well behaved and well turned out. It looked very effective with everyone in dark trousers and white shirts, with a musical note pinned on it in black paper.

The songs were a broad range of styles, but all were fun and well accompanied by the small band comprised of some of the teachers. Even the head of our school took part, playing the flute! What a talented chap he is.

We were so proud of Molly. She knew every word and sang them all really well. To think that she has only been living in France for less than 6 months is amazing, when we saw here there joining in with everyone else. What a great experience for her.

The whole evening was very well organised as usual - no trouble, even though there were dozens of very small children in the audience, and all the kids on stage were impeccably behaved. And so nice to see the teachers all joining in. In the schools back in England music was sadly seen as a very minor part of school life and teachers would go out of their way to avoid having to do any. here it seems that everyone is eagre to join in and it gives such a great example to the kids - it's really lovely to see and is another tick in the box for French education over English for us.

But if you're feeling ridiculously idealistic, you will tend to go through everything that has been taught, even if your exam is just five hours away. You bully yourself into finishing four months' worth of readings in a couple of hours, in between cans of Red Bull. Because that's what you came to college for. You paid for the books, and you jolly well finish reading them. The scene becomes reminiscent of how they force feed ducks before slaughter. Then, boom, gag-reflex. Midway you get panicky, and decide to skip the exam altogether. Say bye-bye to your foie gras.

Sometimes it isn't good to be idealistic. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick some cherries tonight.

A Word from the Lord

27 May 08

Whom shall I send to the aid of Jerusalem?

Whom shall I send?

I sent My prophets they heard not,

I sent My Son and they rejected Him!

whom shall I send?

Who will they believe?

They seek a sign, I gave them the Gospel. They wanted more, I gave them the apostles. 

Oh Jerusalem...Whom shall I send?

What must I do to help you see?

I am the Christ, the one you seek. 

You say blessed is he who prays for thee,

Yet when I sent to you the peace,

You rejected it and said it wasn't from Me.

Oh Jerusalem will you see?

The answer you have been looking for is really Me!

What will it take for you to believe?

Will you believe before it's too late?

Jerusalem, Jerusalem tell your watchman to awake!

The coming destruction will be the worst yet!

There is only ONE WAY to be kept,

Pray for the Holy Ghost, you'll know when He comes.

He will fill you and you will be speaking in other tongues.

Pray for My Holy Ghost

To come,

For it is the peace of New Jerusalem...A free gift,

My only begotten Son.

Jesus Christ.

Friendlyness comes from my mom side. I love that trait that even if people don’t like me I still talk to them. I don’t like when people turn their backs on my; I still talk to them as a regular person. I love to smile so people won’t have any concern of what is going on with me. Been friendly heals me in a way that it is possible to change moods instantly from just thinking positive.

Alpha male, without even knowing of this, many people seemed intimidated when I walk in a room. I don’t even get it, I am a small person who is always aware of its surroundings. People follow my steps and I don’t even know it. Until recent years, where the people I always look up to have confess that they follow me in a much more personal way. This contradicts how I truly am; Im usually the guy that keeps it in the down low and tries to be the underdog. It became apparent to me when in school/work I constantly get recornize for something I do great. A better example, might be that I am/was a hardcore gamer. That is my way of fighting my outer me, when I play video games I become a different person. I have total control of my actions. I know about cause and effect and in a virtual world you can manipulate outcomes more easily then in the real world.

Out of all my traits, fast thinker, is definitely my favorite one. I have this weird thing that happens to me on a daily basis. I can really think quick and usually I can picture/solve problems in my sight. At least two steps ahead of whatever I’m going to say. If that does not happen, usually I leave a quick way out. I’m not saying I can outsmart others but the way my brain works I don’t leave time for others to think until I have the upper hand. One disadvantage about being a fast thinker is that I tend to focus on complex parts of a situation leaving a gab on something basic. I can live with that; however, I would love to not make decisions too early. I still need to work on my timing. One example of me picturing things in my head is that some times when ever I walk I actually without even thinking about I can say a number and usually that number is the number of step I have taken to get to my destiny. Gash, I sound like a real loser saying this things. I want to justify as much as I can for all I want is to get the attention of a young beautiful lady.

In conclusion, I contradict myself many times because I am evolving and don’t feel comfortable been the same at all times. I love change but usually if things change too quick they are no good. So from now and on its all about baby steps.

The stupid ex won't leave me alone. I maintain absolutely no contact with this man, yet he is still (on almost a daily basis) trying to "reach out" and get word to me in different ways. His latest thing is changing his MySpace status to say things to me. He never says my name, but he refers to things only he and I would know. Example: "I wish it was Dec. 13th 2000 again... that was a good nite"... Which he is talking about the night he met ME. Its confusing as hell, since I would really expect him to hate me right about now, though he's always teetering back and forth.. just like in the status that followed: "Man.. you know what I've been craving? .. Handcuffs.. I haven't seen them in about a year!"  Which was posted within days of the one year anniversary since he attacked me.

Yes, the man is bi-polar. And before anyone tells me "I have no life" because I watch his MySpace, let me just say that ... fuck YEAH I do. I'd be stupid not to keep one eye open all the time, especially dealing with this guy. Some people who are mentally ill have a lot of sex, some obsessively shop, some go on impulse road trips to no-where.... he just so happens to get violent. Its unfortunate and hard for even me to fully understand all the time... and I've LIVED it. Its hard... you want to keep letting your mind think that he just might me rational this time... but you have to stop yourself and remember - thats the whole point.. he's NOT rational. He walks and talks, goes to work everyday, drives a car, can cook dinner, takes college classes, has creative hobbies.... but there is a switch that just isn't connecting. Its easy to forget since it's not a visible physical disability. He's not wheelin around in a wheelchair (though the majority say he should be) he's not limping with a cane or have a lame arm.... His brain is broken. or maybe chipped is a better word?

Believe me... I tried for 6 years.. explaining over and over and over, trying desperately to get him to 'understand' a different perspective.. and it just never worked. Even the concept of SEEING a different perspective on things, not even necessarily AGREEING with it. Still no dice.

No, I didn't put my hand in a meat grinder, he BIT me.

So.. none of the pictures I took really did any justice to what he did to me. But you can see how deep the bite marks are on the top, which I swore were going to snap the tendons. He had my hand in such an intense vice grip that the keys I was holding, the ring busted, and stabbed through my fingers. I'm actually kind of sad that I didn't secretly document everything else he did. That would make for one hell of a court case. But whatever... I was stupid. Blah.. The hospital has a bunch of other pictures of my dented legs (from steeltoe boots) and all the bite marks and bruises all over my chest (and no this wasn't from rough sex, he went for my breasts because he figured it would hurt more). 

I have to get home to my beautiful new apartment in a city thats 100 times more awesome, I'll write more later.