Nikki's Ramblings...

I HAVE MOVED!!

2005-06-17T16:13:00.000-04:00

I just want to let everyone know that I have moved - please visit me at MY NEW BLOG (http://www.babyschroeher.blogspot.com) Hope to see you ALL THERE!!!

Back up for Final...

2004-12-13T11:36:00.000-05:00

Just adding this here so I can have another place where my final rests - Just INCASE!!!

October, 2001 – The events of September 11th, 2001 still hang in the distance. They are still looking for bodies and the airport is the emptiest it has ever been – you could almost hear a pin drop. There will be no flights leaving Bangor International Airport for the next month or so; however, I am still responsible to be here – just in case passengers have any questions about their flights. I am sick of watching TV – everything is about the “war on terror” – I had been glued to it since the events happened – at home and at work. I need something to release all tension that I have built up; something that I can do to keep my mind of things and to keep tears from streaming down my face when I have to be alone. I am depressed, as many are, I realize I need something other than medication to help me through this – I needed a hobby.

November, 2001 – My friend Nikki is having some kind of party that she wants me to go to. It all sounds expensive and it’s all about crafts and pictures. I hate crafts. Nikki, my friend, has more creativity in her left pinky then I do in my whole body. I was raised to love sports – fishing, basketball, football, baseball and playing in the mud – there was no time for sissy crafts. I decide to go. Anyway, it could be fun – I haven’t seen Nikki in a while and how bad could it be if it involves pictures – I love pictures. Pictures whip you away to another time, a happier time – After all, when was the last time you took a picture when you were having the most horrible moment of your life? Just looking at the pictures made me want to organize them, or do something creative with them – but what? When I arrived at Nikki’s I got my answer. Scrapbooking. The lady that did the class taught us how to cut our pictures – cropping out whatever junk is in the background and focusing on the focal point. Every page in a scrapbook was like a tiny collage – waiting to tell a story. I was ecstatic and when I left that day – I left $200 bucks poorer. I could do this! This was going to be my getaway – This was going to be my salvation from all the sorrow I was facing. This was going to be expensive!!

December, 2002 – Scrapbooking is my thing. When ever people see something that has to do with it – or want to learn – they come to me. Around the airport parts, I am known as the scrapbook queen. I have two pull behind totes filled to the brim with scrapbook supplies and I have all the pens and paper you would ever want or need to fill an album. I am almost finished the album that I started over a year ago – and album on the happiest time of my life; an album consisting of memories, pictures and letters from high school. When I started the album, I knew that it was going to do the job to get me out of the funk I was in. When I would bring it to work, I noticed that other people started to be interested in what I was doing – first Shelagh, then Steve, and then Gary. They would have me tell them stories of what was going on in the pictures – on what kind of a person I was. We all laughed for hours when we started talking about embarrassing moments from the good ol’ days and I realize that my little scrapbook had opened people like nothing else could. I shared my special moments with people – and they shared theirs. When the flights started coming in again, the scrapbooks were put away. I started to do most of my major work at home; however, I would always bring in the completed pages so everyone could see. I started to get a group of friends interested in what I was doing and we would have little scrapbook parties of our own – filled with food and sometimes wine. When the parties had any kind of alcohol added to them, they went a little sour – we would just end up talking about the memories and forget about the pictures. If we decided to do a page – it would end up all crooked and would have to be redone. Those were some of the best days of my life.

Admitting is the first step...

2004-12-09T04:43:00.000-05:00

So I have to admit...I had a pretty good blog entry on here - but at the last moment, I decided it was a little too personal to post. So - I deleted it. Once again, it is rounding 5 AM and I am still up - writing. I have to say though, I have gotten used to it - and tomorrow I don't have an 11 am class (it's at 1) so hopefully I will manage to get my ass up, out of bed, and on the road in time.

So, I was browsing through napster, I never downloaded the new version after I got really pissed at Metallica for creating such a fuss. I loved the old napster - and I say this after I crashed my last computer with over 5,000 songs - that was before it was illegal to download them for free. So, now I pay for them. $1 seems pretty expensive though - it would be a lot cooler if they were like ten cents a piece - then not as many people would enfringe copyright laws...I'm telling you - I could start a revolution. AND - the artists would get paid and they can quit their whining. This is my opinion now, and like the TV host early in the morning would say - "we welcome yours" - or maybe not.

So, I am sitting here, listening to 90's alternative - bands like Cake, Sponge, Pearl Jam, Better Than Ezra, The Eels and Nirvana - whoa. Brings back a ton of memories. I love it. It has put me in a happier mood - and that is why I think I decided to delete the last post - just because it was deep, maybe too deep - and I think I have gotten past that point in my life and there is no need to drudge it all up again, you know what I mean?

Anyway, listening this much makes me think of simpler days - Days haning out with my friends - going on drives with my best friend Brooke to places unknown - getting lost and then finding our way back again. Wearing flannel shirts with jeans (ripped, comfortable J Crew jeans - 75 dollar jeans that were later stolen in Presque Isle when we went up to play them in basketball - assholes). Ahh...it was during that year that My So Called Life came out - and I am telling you - that was pretty acurate. My mom even enjoyed watching it because she could really relate - and it was something we could watch together (she would say) - I just was in love with Jordan Catalano...he was pretty hot.

This music reminds me of the fun times, the carefree times when all I had to really worry about was getting up in time for my paper route and not wearing the same jeans, or top in the same week. Times of skipping lunch with Brooke going into the architectual drawing class going "online" which was the coolest. Taking photography class and taking pictures of everything (which I still have, I loved photography - maybe I will take it again...someday). Memories of going to my first formal dance and getting all dressed up. Summers spent at my neighborhood park listening to Dave Matthew's song Satellite wondering if maybe, some night, we would see a UFO. I really, truly miss those days. The days when KFC had cornbread and Wendy's had Chicken Caesar pitas...ahhhh. Days when my friends would spend the night and the boys of the neighborhood would come over and knock on the window - we would never sneak out of course - but we would talk to them through the screen, giggling until my parents would yell to us to wind down. They never minded - I think it's beacause they trusted us - and to be honest, there was nothing really not to trust - we were good kids.

So here's to the 90's. And, of course, that music that always brings me back and makes me want to order a green and navy blue flannel from LL Bean...

Pissed...

2004-12-08T11:08:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am - it's wednesday morning, 11:08 AM and I should be in class. You probably could have guessed that I would have done that since I stayed up until the crack of dawn - I am just mad at myself, that's all. Kevin, clearly hating the alarm clock, shut it off when it went of - twice. I never even heard it. He feels awful, but it's not his fault - I always set a second one because - well - this has happened before and last night, when I finally collapsed into bed around 6 AM I forgot to. I really wanted to be there today, not only because I was excited to get my ISearch back - but because I had actually started to be consistant with this class. Anyway, here I sit - where I was last night - wondering what the hell I can do. I just called my best friend's little sister - she's not going either. AHHHHHHH! What to do, what to do, what to do....

Writing..

2004-12-08T05:16:00.000-05:00

Well, it's now almost 5:30 and I am still awake. It appears that I will now only get four hours of sleep which has been scientifically proven that less sleeps means more weight gain. Hmm. No wonder why I am overweight. Well, I just wrote a little more in my ENG162 class, one theme that was "ironic" (I almost broke down the song by Alanis Morrisette - "Isn't it Ironic" but I couldn't really turn it into something that made much sense). I just started thinking about all the things that I am going to get done when I am done with school - My sister's scrapbook, Kevin's mom's picture album, Christmas cards that will obviously be late (better late than never right?) and of course start going to the gym again. I wish I could develop some kind of routine between scrapbooking, school, the gym and work - but it just never happens for me. I have something going and then BAM! Out of nowhere comes an obstacle which for me, isn't just like something I can swerve around. When I approach an obstacle its like having and entire tree in the road and you can't move around it because you can't go forward because there is the tree, you can't move backward because there are cars in back of you, and you can't move side to side because a car just can't move side to side without backing up or going forward. Well, finally (after I smoke my last cigarette of the night, I am serious this time) I shall hit the hay for four hours until I have to get ready for my ENG101 class at 11 AM. So, if I come into class dragging my heals - you will know why :)

A little confused...

2004-12-08T03:58:00.000-05:00

So, it really gets me that I am able to update on Blogger - yet I am not able to post any comments on ENG162...It really baffles me. Oh well, I guess I will try to figure it out tomorrow - it is now 3:59 AM and like most nights this week, I have stayed up way past my bedtime. It just seems like homework and catch up work is never ending, and the minute I get something done, and am proud of my accomplishment - I am faced with something else. Hmmm. The life of a procrastinator is revealed. Hopefully, with having two more days off from work this week, I will be able to get a lot more done than I think I will. My I-Search is practically finished (I just believe I have a little revising and more information to include in it) and all my other classes - except ENG162 - is caught up. Now all I have to do is WRITE WRITE WRITE!

I-Search

2004-12-08T03:51:00.000-05:00

In hoping that I would be able to obtain some more information, friday after class I took another trip to the Bangor Room at the Bangor Public Library - not only was I going for more information, but I was also going to obtain the references for my works cited page. I not only found all my references and documented them properly - I found some more information.

I found a map of Bangor from 1865 - it was old and had a lot of stains on it - HOWEVER, I found the first recorded person to own the land that I live on today - his name was Charles Dolan. I am unsure if the house that I live in was built by him, however, I did find that Charles Dolan was quite the businessman. He was a grocer, but also owned a saloons which were located on #1 Main Street and the corner of Broad Street and Union (wherever that is). He also owned a residence on Second Street. I am so excited. Finally, some more information I can include in my I-Search to make it more complete.

Course Evaluation

2004-12-06T11:07:00.000-05:00

I have to say when I was told I had to take ENG101 again, I wasn't impressed. I had taken ENG 101 through the University of Phoenix only to have it called an elective because it was entitled "College Preparation I". I had also taken ENG 101 at Bangor, Campus and got through with a "C" which, I felt, was completely passing - However, I didn't want this school to see the rest of my grades so I never transfered them. So, here I was, back in ENG 101 - again.

When I got into the class and found out that we were going to be doing online blogs - I was psyched!! I had kept a blog for over two years and I thought that it would be awesome if I could not only write in this one, but also keep up with my older one - It's been three months since I have written an entry that I did not include in this blog...I also though the course assignments were going to be quite easy. I love to write - especially if it is first hand experience - but I found myself runing out of things to say - and when I would find something and I would smile at myself thinking it was increcible - I would get it turned back to me saying it was in the wrong format. I started to get really frustrated quite early in the game - and I almost felt like I should drop the course - take it another time when I wouldn't be so spleeny about a teacher's thoughts of my work...see, as I have said before, I was always praised for my work - until I went to the University of Phoenix and I had a teacher that did nothing but give me hell about my writings. Even though the course was online, I was in tears so much that Kevin told me just to quit. I didn't though, and I thought I would never have to go through it again - However, my teacher left me with some very good advice - He said that sometimes we are our worst critics...that in saying some of the things that he said - I took them the wrong way and that in fact, I could write - However, he advised me that I take a creative writing course. I was pissed.

The I-Search turned out better than I expected...I was up, then I was down, then I was up, then I was down - Now I am up and I hope that I don't go back down. I did interviews, had a dry spell, then I got more information, I was about to pull my hair out, then John Goldfine helped me get more information (well, led me in the right direction) - my research led me to the Bangor Historical Society, The Bangor Museum and www.Ancestry.com - where I got a ton of information! Not only was I able to find birth and death records - I found marriage records and even social security numbers (which was kind of scary - but they were dead). The only thing I didn't find, which I was pretty bummed about was information on Brownie's Market - which, today, because I am bound and determined to find information, I am going to the Bangor Public Library to the Bangor Room to dig my nose into books until I find information. Wish me luck!

Note to self - tell next teacher, if they do not have an attendance policy - tell them to lie to you. When I told the people at work that I didn't have an attendance policy in English - I could never use the excuse - well, I have school - in order not to work. It was crazy. I have to say this whole semester has been crazy - so many changes, so little time. Pulling all nighters writing papers, doing keyboarding homework and memorizing medical terminology. This class has been fun, I am just hopeful that I pass....

Nikki

Contrast Essay

2004-12-03T11:08:00.000-05:00

I am currently reading a book entitled The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom and it has really gotten me to think about my life and the people that have entwined into it. There are many people that come and go in your life that have impacted it more than you may be aware of. Although I have not finished the book yet – it has really gotten me thinking about not only the people that I may have impacted through my 25 years on earth – but the people that have impacted me. I could go on and on how my parents, grandparents and best friends have directly impacted my life – but to narrow it down, I can think of two people that have directly affected my life and made me the person that I am today: My husband, Kevin and my ex-boyfriend who I will call Tim.

I met Tim the summer before my senior year and it was infatuation from the beginning. It was strange because I had never felt the way I had felt when I was with him – and I had never spent as much time with a guy as I had with Tim. I was so into Tim that I thought maybe I could change him – maybe he would stop doing the drugs that he did and stop doing some of the illegal stuff he did as well if I was a bigger part of his life. My friends would tell me that he did not date me exclusively – but I would just assure them that they were getting the wrong information. I poured everything I had into him, and he gave me little in return. He constantly told me that I didn’t have high enough goals in life – that I was going to be a failure. He was right – the only goal I really had was for him to love me I wanted him to. This really didn’t make him a bad person - he was, of course, a teenage boy who, at the time, wasn’t really interested in maintaining a serious relationship but more interested in himself and what was going on in his life. After dating for over three years, two of those long distantly, he broke up with after he graduated from prep school on our ten hour trip back home to Maine. I was mortified and confused. I felt like I had done so much to keep us going, and I was a failure because – as he told me – he never “really was in love with me – he just didn’t want to break up with me because he thought he would hurt me…” Looking back on it – I would have been a lot better off if he had ended it long, long ago. I lost a part of me that day we broke up that I will never get back. I guess I don’t really know exactly what it was; I just know that a part of me died that day. I just didn’t understand why God would punish me for loving and caring for someone so much – that he would make me feel so dead inside. What did I do wrong? What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be, or become the person Tim wanted me to be. Little did I know that I was learning a very important lesson in life – I had to love myself before I could love anyone else.

I met Kevin in April of 2000 at the airport where I worked. I had a boyfriend (Tim) and he had a girlfriend. We became instant friends when we both found out that we both had a strong love for basketball – I knew at that moment that there was something very special about Kevin – I just couldn’t put my finger on it. When Tim and I broke up in May of 2000, Kevin stopped coming to the airport. I didn’t think much about it, and I dated here and there always wondering where Kevin was. Finally, in the fall of 2000, I saw him again. We decided to make plans to hang out and get to know each other. I knew that he had no interest in me really as a girlfriend because a mutual friend had told me that he detested smoking. There was no way I was going to give up anything for a guy again – so I decided at that moment that Kevin would be just a fun friend. I wasn’t going to put any time into anything because, as my friend had said, it probably wouldn’t work out between us. Kevin and I started hanging out, and some nights, I would drive to Wal-Mart where he worked overnights to visit him. Sure, after a while I was very interested in him – but he was so much unlike any guy I had ever met. He was sweet, generous, funny, and kind. He would always comment that I was a lot of fun to hang out with, which made me feel important. One night – me, Kevin and a couple of mutual friends went to Denny’s to have a midnight meal – Kevin whipped out some tickets and asked me if I wanted to go to a hockey game. “Sure,” I commented. “I think that would be fun for all of us…” “Weeeeellll,” he staggered, “I only have two tickets and I want you to go with me.” I blushed. Was Kevin asking me out on a date? This was the best moment of my life. For once, I felt like I was the center of a guy’s attention and I really didn’t have to try to get it. He seemed to like me for whom I was – and that made me feel incredible. Finally I had met someone that I felt I didn’t have to try so hard to make them like me. He made me feel that I didn’t have to change anything about myself – my weight, my clothing, my friends, my job or my way of life. He, unknowing at the time, was giving me the freedom to love myself. However, after dating someone like Tim for so long – I didn’t know how to react to this attention. Our relationship suffered for the first year – but Kevin stuck through. He eventually asked me to marry him – and told me that I was the best thing that could ever happen to him. I thought he was crazy, after all I just couldn’t appreciate the way he treated me – especially after I had gone so long being ignored.

Neither Tim, nor Kevin had it completely right – or wrong. In the early stages of Kevin and my relationship I tried to push him away – almost like Tim did to me. It seemed that the shoe had been placed on the other foot, so to speak. Sometimes I would find myself saying things to Kevin that Tim had said to me so many times – hurtful things. I spent too much time wondering what I had done wrong in my past relationship and not enough time paying attention what was going on in my current one. I finally decided to tell Kevin why I acted the way I did. I told him everything – the pain, the suffering; the good times and the bad. I dwelled too much on the bad things that happened in my relationship with Tim, and couldn’t – for the life of me – remember a time when we were happy. I felt like I had wasted three years of my life on someone that had no effect on my life. Finally a friend put things into perspective – don’t think about anything you did in your life as a waste – but as a lesson to help you move further into life. These horrible things that happen in your life will make you the person you are to become. Sometimes you can take the things you learn, and help someone else that is in a similar situation. I decided to try to stop living my life in the past – and dwell on the things that I did or didn’t do – and lift my head towards the future. The future was brighter and bigger than I ever could have expected.

I am eager to finish the book – The Five People You Meet in Heaven – to see if Eddie, the main character, ever discovers in his travels through heaven the things that I have discovered in writing a simple essay. There are people who come and go in your life – and what people need to do is understand that there is a lesson to learn from every person that enters into their world. It could be as simple as talking to a friend or as difficult as going through a bad relationship. As my grandmother always said – When god closes a door, he opens a window. Maybe someday I will finally peer though that window and find what is offered on the other side.

Contrast Essay

2004-12-03T01:47:00.002-05:00

Contrast Essay

2004-12-03T01:47:00.001-05:00

Contrast Essay

2004-12-03T01:47:00.000-05:00

A Quarter of a Century ago...

2004-12-01T13:37:00.000-05:00

Well, it's finally here. I am now a quarter of a century old. Last night, my mom called me at work to wish me a happy birthay (early) because she knew I wouldn't be up when she went to work. It's kind of cheesy - but I miss the times when we were little celebrating birthdays. I miss my mom coming into my room, waking me up at 7 AM (about the time I was born) singing happy birthday to me and giving me breakfast in bed. It didn't matter what was going on (except for my 16th birthday), she always did something special. There of course there was always the birthday parties - big celebrations with all of my friends at the rollerskating rink, bowling alley or in my grandmother's garage that was heated.

Last night my mom told me about the day I was born. She told me a story how the day before my birth, she had worked a full 12 hour shift. She was working at Mars which was a discount store, kind of like KMart or Ames which I don't really remember. The next morning she decided to do laundry - and her water broke. Thinking she could still finish another load, she did so, when I began to come - fast. She got my dad and my sister out of bed and they trucked it to the hospital where my mom told my dad if he stopped at another stop sign, she wouldn't talk to him again. My sister was eleven and was really excited to have a sister - or a brother which is what my mom thought she was having. My name was already picked out - Justin Nicholas (I even have a couple christmas ornaments that say - "Merry First Christmas Justin" on them becuase my mom felt so strongly that I was a boy). When my family finally reached the hospital - James A. Taylor in Bangor which is now what everyone knows as Acadia (don't get any ideas - this place was here way before Acadia...but sometimes people tease me and say "So that's why you are so crazy!") but when they got there, the doors were locked. Finally they found someone and got my mom in where she gave birth to me in under ten minutes. When my dad called my mom's work to tell them that she wouldn't be coming to work they said - "Wow, Bev has never called in sick - is she okay?" - even thought he person on the other end was a little slow, my dad chuckled and said "No - she just gave birth to the most beautiful girl...her name is Nicole Lynn - and she is perfect." When my mom told me this, it brought a smile to my face and it was cute to hear the story, even though I had heard it many times before - it just gets better every year.

I was in 8th grade when my mom finally agreed to let me have a boy - girl birthday dance party. I was psyched. I invited about 20 people and they all showed up - everyone :) One of my best friends at the time, Mike Arsenault, was throwing brownies everywhere - which - we didn't have to worry about messing stuff up because the party was in my grandmother's garage. Now - I know you are thinking - a garage? However, my Nan (as I like to call her) kept her garage immaculate. She even swept it out every couple of days - even in the winter. Plus it was heated - which was very nice for a December birthday.My family had decorated it with white christmas lights and streamers - it was the best.

When they brought out my cake, and I went to cut into it, it wouldn't cut. I couldn't understand it because I thought maybe it was just an ice cream cake which was hard to cut into - but it turns out, it was cardboard (my grandfather's idea). We all decided at that moment that it would be really fun if we had a frosting fight. Everyone left that night with frosting everywhere. I guess my birthday was also very special because that is when I got my first kiss - ever. It was someone's grand idea to play "spin the bottle" and when the bottle spun - everyone stood up except my friend - Mike. He took me out in back of the garage and gave me my first, real kiss. It was a little weird because he was my friend - but I wouldn't have wanted it to be anyone else...little did I know that my sister and her husband (my sister is 11 years older than me) were spying on me ;)

So - it's another year. 25. It's suppose to be a landmark I guess. However, for me - it means I am no longer a kid. For some reason, I feel like I am now grown up - which kind of sucks and I am having a pretty hard time with it. Plus, it doesn't help that this year, my family is unable to have a family birthday party because people are so busy. I guess that comes with the territory of being 25. So, unlike birthdays in the past - today is just another day....

Reaction to J. Goldfine's Post

2004-11-30T02:33:00.000-05:00

I was just reading J. Goldfine's journal as I usually do on a bi-weekly basis and I came across the blog entry about students trying to play catch up in the last three weeks of the class. I have to admit, that I am one of these students. It's embarassing, BUT I have let ENG101 slip out of my hands in a disasterous degree. I always hated the students that would come to class unprepared and then try to copy off my work - and now, I am one of those people - not the whole copy off someone part - but the whole unprepared thing. The thing is, its not like any of my other classes are suffering - just my english courses. Weird how the one thing that you like to do the most nips you in the butt in the end. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I am not excusing myself because - I hate excuses - I was just unprepared this semester. Maybe this will just all be one of those learning experiences people always talk about :)

Process Essay

2004-11-28T23:57:00.000-05:00

Process Essay

It’s 7:00 PM. I realize that I have to be to work in a half-hour; however, when I have to get ready for work, it is impossible for me to be excited and motivated. It’s not that I have the worst job in the world, but, my job can be extremely difficult at times. I, Nikki, work for an airline. I am pretty sure it has been proven that we airline employees get yelled at the most in any occupation – even above sports players (but they get paid a hell of a lot more to do their job). You now can probably guess why I am so lackadaisical.
At 7:15 PM I pull into Dunkin’ Donuts and order my usual – plain latte with three Splenda. They always get my order right on Union Street – and they are always friendly. Usually, I order my Latte and a French Vanilla coffee with extra cream and extra sugar – which is for my coworker, Gary. Gary doesn’t work at night anymore, which is very upsetting because Gary is one of my best friends, and I almost feel empty ordering only my Latte. When the girl hands me lone Latte, she remembers that I need a car tray (I don’t have any cup holders in my car), and I smile knowing that officially I am a regular with them.
At 7:29 PM I arrive at work. I slide my ID through the ID reader, punch in my pin and open the door. My arrival routine at work rarely changes. We, meaning whoever is working and sometimes some of the people working at the other airlines, usually sit and do homework or watch TV until our first flight at 9:40 – if the flights are on time. I could never complain about the time we have between flights. This is the fun part of the job – until you run out of stuff to do. Sometimes, when we are extremely delayed, we can go four hours until we even work a flight – but then, they come in all at once and we are screwed. It is extremely difficult to operate four flights at one time with three people and only one jetbridge. Before any of the flights come in, I usually “fight” with my supervisor. We don’t really “fight” but he likes to tease me and sometimes I get really angry. Usually we end on good terms but there have been some nights where we leave our station not talking because he has really gotten on my nerves. Steve, my supervisor, is like the brother I never had. We are family here and I know that if anything ever happened to me that I absolutely needed him for – he would be there. He only picks on me because he was the youngest in his family and he always got picked on. Now, I guess, he needs to pick on someone else.
At approximately 9:35 our first flight arrives. It pulls into the gate and I operate the jetbridge which is a device that pulls up to the plane in order to let the passengers off in an enclosed environment. Until last year, we always let our passengers off outside which kind of sucked in extreme weather conditions. People would complain and yell at us because they got wet, and even though we would explain to them that it was really out of our control, the would blame us and curse us out. Finally, we have one less thing for people to yell at us about. The jetbridge isn’t my only job though. We have about three jobs at night: The jetbridge, the unloader and the loader. The person who operates the jetbridge lets the passengers off and then makes sure everything is locked up after the passengers deplane. They are also responsible for making sure that the maintenance guys are all clear when they taxi the planes over to the hanger. The unloader is in charge of unloading the bags from the bin of the plane down to the loader. The unloader has to climb from the beltloader into the compartment of the plane where sometimes the bin is so packed full of bags – it is easy to fall. The loader is responsible for marshaling in the plane in a three-man operation. Marshaling is just guiding the plane with hand wants to the position that they need to be so the jetbridge can pull up to the plane easily. After the marshaler has officially put the plane in position and chalked the wheels so the plane doesn’t roll away if it has brake problems, they proceed to stacking the bags that the unloader has sent down on the belt loader onto the cart. After all the bags are unloaded, the cart is then taken to the bag belt carousel where the passengers can claim their luggage. After the bags are unloaded, the fun finally begins.
At 10:55 our last flight has finally been unloaded. Unfortunately, we weren’t told that Boston failed to load most of the bags because of a weight restriction. It is just as unfortunate that they failed to tell the passengers this. Hanging our heads, we proceed to hell on earth – the ticket counter. Most of the passengers are still looking at the bag belt in disbelief that their bags haven’t come through. One passenger things it is an electrical malfunction and begins banging on the bag belt door trying to talk to someone that isn’t on the other side. With intercom phone in hand, I make the dreaded announcement: “For the information of all those passengers who just traveled inbound on flight 1234, that is all the luggage. If you are missing luggage we ask that you please head to the ticket counter located on the lower level to file a lost baggage claim.” At first there is silence. Some people are still talking to each other through the announcement not even listening to what I just said. Those are the people that will come over a half hour afterwards after we have filed all the claims with blank stares wondering where their luggage is. The passengers that do hear the announcement file into line, some yelling, some crying, some just glad to be home. I, of course, always get the rowdy ones. The ones that stir up the crying and happy ones with their yelling and poor customer service complaints. Even if you try to calm them down, they don’t want to listen to you – they want you to listen to them. It’s hard to explain to these people that we, the people working at the Bangor station, don’t really have much control over the luggage system. Even though it is our airline, we unfortunately didn’t load the plain wherever it started – and we didn’t just decide to take their bag off the plane just because we felt like it. After finally getting through all the baggage claims, it is now 11:35. Finally time to go home. Punching out, we all begin to talk about the passengers that we had and head up to the parking lot to get in our car, drive home, and call it a day.

Response...

2004-11-17T11:34:00.000-05:00

After Reading John Goldfine's piece about sex, drugs and rock and roll in Waterville in 1963. The only word I can come up with right now is, well...I am speechless. It is hard to imagine a life without computers, cell phones, sports cars, latees and alternative rock. It's even harder to think that as a female college student I would not only have to live here all four years of college, but I would also be considered one of the "weaker" sex. It's just crazy.

Sometimes I think about what it would be like growing up in a world that was much like "Stepford, Connecticut". I sometimes even wonder if I would be better off. Although, like you said John, women were treated very differently back then - they still were very much respected - its not like I would ever want to go back to the early 1900's where women were property, didn't speak unless spoken to and also couldn't vote. Wow. How often we take advantage of where we are today...

I have always asked my mom to tell me stories about a different time and a different place. I want to learn more about the way she was raised, and the things she did growing up. However, many people from the 50's era feel the need to hold things in side - sometimes things are better left unsaid and privacy is thier policy. (will write more once I arrive home)

I Search - The Future

2004-11-17T04:03:00.000-05:00

I-Search – The Future

After listening to all the information the elders of the community have given me, I am glad that I researched, and finally documented how 385 and 387 Main Street have come to be a historic place of residence. I feel lucky that I can call this place my home, and I hope that William Overlock and the other previous residents feel that we have exceed their expectations as the current home owners.

It is unfortunate that eventually this place will be turned into a parking lot. Downtown property is hard to come by, and for a fair price, this property will soon be sold. I feel almost guilty to know what will become of this home after becoming familiar with the builder of the house, and the various occupants that have resided here. However, the house is beyond repair, and it would take hundreds of thousands of dollars to turn it into the place it once was – when it was newly finished Victorian in the 1890’s.

Who knows when the house will be decimated, however, I do know that I will take a part of it with me everywhere I go. After all, it was the first house my husband and I shared – and we have had many fond memories that will always remain inside. Even though I hated it in the beginning, it has grown on me. Now knowing that “Brownie” refused to sell it to Shaw’s because it was a place he could call home guilts me even more, but when it comes down to it, unfortunately, it is not entirely my decision to make.

Random Post

2004-11-15T21:11:00.000-05:00

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most
interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

As I have mentioned before, I know what I want to do with my life. The only thing that I worry about – is if I am really being realistic. I mean, first – there is no school in Maine that I can go to that has an actual major of forensics. Secondly, there is a lot of schooling a head of me – who knows if I will even be able to last the next year and a half let alone five more years of schooling. I sometimes feel like I am selfish, because I really don’t have any kind of back-up plan. What I mean is, I am going to school for medical transcription – but I know that isn’t what I want to do. What do I want to do?

Some of the most interesting people I have ever met work at the airport. All of them had dreams and aspirations before they started working here – but eventually; they ended up here, with a career. They all have stories about how they went to college, and really did give their dreams an honest try, however, I wonder what stopped them. I am sure family and money were two important factors, but I wonder why they didn’t go back after they finally got their shit together. In a way, I would like answers to all of my questions, but as the saying goes – some things are better left unsaid.

3rd try at Classification Essay

2004-11-15T03:59:00.000-05:00

Smokers. Yes, I know they are the “BAD” group that your mom always told you never to hang out with. However, we are all in college now and I know that there are many people out there that either smoke out in the open, smoke when no one is looking (or the people that you DON’T want seeing you smoke aren’t looking) and lastly there are the smokers that “only smoke when they drink”. Yes. I was once “I only smoke when I drink” smoker too – but what people have to understand is that any kind of smoking is addictive. So, in reality – if you smoke more than one cigarette a week or in a sit down period – you too are a smoker. So, as a member of the “bad” crowd, I feel that I am fully capable of explaining those three types of smokers that you know, or have never known existed.
1. “I only smoke when I drink” smoker. Like I said, I started as group member of the “I only smoke when I drink” smokers club. I would have some beer, and then all of a sudden, BAM! I would need a cigarette and I wouldn’t care what kind it was. “Drunk Smokers” (in other terms) usually only bum cigarettes. They are the kind of smoker that every “full fledge” smoker hates because at the end of the night, they are out of butts. These “drunk” smokers also lie when people ask if they smoke or pretend that smoking is disgusting. They are also the kinds of smokers that are more likely to quit before they join the “I only smoke when no one I want seeing me smoke is looking” smoker club. I know, quite confusing.
2. “I only smoke when no one I want seeing me smoke is looking” smoker. Now, I have a lot of friends that are apart of this group. I like to call them the “closet smokers”. They smoke in front of their friends and all but only inside houses or where other people can’t see them doing that nasty deed. They are the types of people that will drive around, at night, smoking because they feel that no one will see them at night driving around, smoking. They feel that if anyone ever caught them smoking, their life would be over. *NEWSFLASH* for all those “closet smokers” out there: No matter how much perfume or cologne you put on after you smoke, non-smokers can still smell it on your clothing. I just thought you should know.
3. “I don’t care if people think my habit is disgusting, I am going to smoke anyway” smokers. These people smoke usually between ½ a pack or a pack a day. They smoke out in the open and they don’t really care who sees them smoke. They make fun of those smokers who are closet smokers, or “drunk” smokers and feel that there should only be two categories of smokers: Smokers and Non-smokers. These people are also the ones that always have cigarettes on them. They are like boy scouts when it comes to cigarettes: they are always prepared. They have extra packs in their cars, bags, and houses and dread that moment when they run out. These are the hard-core smokers and they are also the ones that have tried quitting more than once to no avail. They are the ones that are going to die before their lifetime expectancy.

Now, I know I have joked about these three types of smokers; however, to be politically correct I have to acknowledge the fact that smokers know what they are doing is killing them. They also will be the first people, like my dad, to be disappointed when someone they love starts smoking. We smokers know that what we are doing is horrible, and it is ever more horrible when non-smokers go around telling us that we need to quit. We understand this, but a non-smoker has no idea how hard it is to do so. We also know that we shouldn’t have started in the first place and we would never recommend, and I am being completely serious here, that anyone should ever start smoking. It is a dreadful, nasty habit – however, I do it. And I think that at least I acknowledge that I know what I am doing is wrong, I don’t try to sue some tobacco company because I get sick, I try my best not to smoke around others and if I don’t try to get other people to smoke – that I am entitled to my opinion.

I-Search

2004-11-15T03:22:00.000-05:00

Okay, so maybe this isn't the best idea...HOWEVER, I have no idea what to do. After doing hours of research on my house, I have turned up with a big pile of *nothing*. And, when I say *nothing*, I mean *nothing*...so, I am going to start from square one - and I actually have a pretty decent topic - and see where I go from there...who knows where it will take me...hopefully somewhere other than where I am right now which is a step away from never.

Don't worry about the future.

2004-11-15T03:06:00.000-05:00

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

See, the thing is, for me worrying is an every second thing in my life. I worry constantly - partly, for the fact, I have something called obsessive compulsive disorder. Oh, I know, I can just hear the chanting - *FREAK*, *WEIRDO* and *Ewww...are your hands all scarred from washing them all the time?* ... hmm, Well - I am a freak and a weirdo - but for different reasons other than my OCD, and to talk a little about the STEREOTYPE of people with OCD washing things frantically - NOT ALL people with OCD do that. I am what you call a counter. I love repetition. AND, if I don't have it - I get really F*ed up. Plus, I am a checker - which really is a huge pain in my ass.

The thing is, when I told my friends about it - they all had really different reactions. Some felt sorry for me, which I didn't understand because I had done stuff in my OCD way all my life - and me getting treatment was going to give me a new lease on life. I mean, everything that was "normal" to me, wasn't anymore - and now, I actually had purpose. I was going to kick this bullshit in the ass. Some of my friends took it alright, but I knew in the back of my head they were wondering when I was going to just FREAK right out on them. The funny thing is, I would tease them and tell them I was going crazy...they didn't think that was so funny.

I don't tell people I have OCD because I just want to tell ANYONE, I tell people because I hope, that someday, I will run across someone that was just like me - and I might be able to help them. I have to admit, when I was diagnosed - it was scary. I mean, just imagine being told "Eating is weird...don't do it anymore" - that is what checking and counting was to me. They (the doctors) tried to put me on all this different medicine that would suddenly curb my counting and checking cravings...However, I have yet to find one that actually works like it is suppose to - most of them just make me annoyed, or distracted. Which sucks when you are a college student trying to get ahead - or even have the kind of job like I do where you have to deal with people everyday. If you think PMS is bad, just think of that times ten - that is what I was like on my last medication.

So now, I am med free - for now. I guess that is why I have been so erratic. Not to tell a stupid sob story, but its hard knowing that what I have is treatable - being treated and going through almost a year without doing the stupid things that you hate doing - then relapsing. It's hard, but I know I am strong enough to get through it. I have to say, that when I put my mind to something, I am kind of scary. So - now that I have had my little brush with a bad relapse, I am ready to move on - and hopefully find myself again.

You're not as fat as you imagine...

2004-11-15T02:58:00.000-05:00

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the
power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll
look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much
possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

The thing is, everytime you think you are fat, there are always other fat possiblities. This statement probably doesn't make much sense; however, I know that everytime and every moment that I have ever thought I have been fat - I would kill to be there now...

I started gaining weight right out of high school, as most of us do. I didn't have to be on a diet anymore for sports AND I wasn't doing any sort of physical activity. I guess that is a pretty good explaination how I gained over 70 pounds by the time I was out of high school for two years. It got quite embarassing when people that I knew pretty well in high school didn't even recognize me, and if they did - they would ask me when I was due - as in they thought I was pregnant. I even had one of my former teachers touch my belly when I was wearing my overalls in Rite Aid. Needless to say, I burned those overalls and went on a diet - the first fad one of hundreds that I have tried.

When I broke up with my now EX boyfriend, I did the break up diet and MAN...did that one work. I lost all the weight I had gained and I looked freakin great. However, I was also bindge drinking and doing stuff that if my mother ever found out she would kill me. Not drugs or anything like that, just wreckless behavior. That is when I met my now husband, Kevin.

When Kevin and I began dating - I started gaining the weight back - by the time we were married three years later - I had gained 100 pounds. Yep, 100 pounds. So, here I am, thinking about how great I looked 1, 2 and 3 years ago when I thought I was so fat. So, enjoy what you look like now because you never know when it is going to change. For me, I am on another diet and hopefully, this one will be the one that works.

Random Post

2004-11-15T02:44:00.000-05:00

I know its been a while since I posted...but now that I am trying to get caught up - I am frantic. The thing is, tonight while I was doing my homework, I was listening to one of my favorite radio stations on AOL. It's called 90's alternative. The reasoning behind listening to this music is because it reminds me of high school - a happier time in my life. I heard this song - well not really a song but you get the point. It's dedicated to the class of 1999 - the class after I graduated. I really think it should have been dedicated to me because I always remember - listening to this song would always, in a selfish kind of way, make me think of my life - so for the rest of my posts, I will go on what this song says - and then refer it to something I am familiar with. It may be somewhat boring, but I will try to keep you up to speed. Here is a little background information on the song which I got from http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/features/daily/march99/sunscreen0318.htm (The washington post online)

It began as a newspaper column, became an Internet hoax, was turned into a song by a hipster movie director and is now a hit on radio stations around the country. Along the way, it became an example of how words – known to the e-generation as "content" – morphed from one form into another, aided by misinformation and high-speed modems.
"Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" is in heavy rotation on alternative rocker WHFS (99.1), as well as other stations nationwide. It's a 4½-minute fake commencement address, laid down over a hip-hop rhythm track. A very square-sounding man speaks the lyrics:

"Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '99 – Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience – I will dispense this advice now."

The song goes on to say such things as:

Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts; don't put up with people
who are reckless with yours.
Floss.

Pat Ferrise, WHFS's music director, discovered the song among a shipment of CDs mailed to the station in early January. He played it for some station employees, young and older, and "everyone who listened to it was intrigued," he says.

Fine, Ferrise thought, we've got a good novelty song here. And as soon as the song made its first on-air appearance, he says, the listeners started calling.

"That song means a lot to me," one caller said. Another gushed: "I'm really grateful for that song."

"I've never seen the likes of this kind of response" to a song, Ferrise says, adding that it "strikes a chord" with the station's predominantly 18-to-35-year-old listeners. The cover of a recent issue of Hits, a radio and music industry trade magazine, notes that the song, off the Baz Luhrmann album "Something for Everybody," has been added to the playlist of New York Top 40 station WHTZ, sharing space on Z100's hit chart with Cher, Third Eye Blind and Bon Jovi. Luhrmann's label, Capitol Records, says it is the most requested song on radio morning shows in Atlanta and Philadelphia.

Ferrise points out that the song has a positive, buck-up quality lacking in much of today's whiny, nihilistic rock. It's uplifting – and even instructive – to hear a song like "Sunscreen" tell you: "Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements."

But the song was never meant to be a song. It originated in deadline journalism.

In late May 1997, Chicago Tribune metro columnist (and "Brenda Starr" writer) Mary Schmich was walking to work along Lake Shore Drive, wondering what she was going to write about that day. It occurred to her that it was near graduation time and she thought she would write a column that read like a commencement address. As she wondered what advice she might offer, she saw a woman sunbathing on the shore of Lake Michigan.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '99:
Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice
now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the
power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll
look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much
possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.
The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this,
tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most
interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding
anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work
hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern
California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a
form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Random Post #1 of 4

2004-10-26T23:35:00.000-04:00

So, here I am. Back in the swing of things finally. After a little sebatical due to some personal things that were going on, I am back - and I am here to stay. I have to say, last week - I really didn't think I was going to make it. I was actually thinking about giving up on college all together. However, I got to speak to one of the most important people in my life, and she really pulled me through it.

Depression is a weird thing. It hits you in the weirdest times in your life sometimes. Even when you think you are up, sometimes it will hit you and bring you so far down, you don't even know how to lift yourself up again. Its like being on that show "clean sweep". If you have never seen it, its pretty much like my life.

Second Try at Classification Essay

2004-10-26T23:32:00.000-04:00

Classification Essay

I guess there is a point you get to in life when you know it’s time to move. Either you are old enough now to move out of your parents’ house, you are getting married and it’s time to move into a home with your soon-to-be husband or wife, or it’s just time to move. It’s funny how sometimes the different places you live represent your “coming of age” if you will, or even your final realization that responsibility for your life is now your own.

My first apartment, was like many other “just out of high school” folk – it was a little run down, and needed a lot of work. The rent was very cheap, only $100 bucks a month with all utilities included and I shared it with four other roommates. The rent was so cheap because it was the soon to be new home of my best friend Brooke’s aunt. They were going to be completely renovating it so they didn’t care if a bunch of college kids came in and beat the shit out of it. I had the smallest room in the whole house – which was just fine with me. After all, I was away from my parents control and I could leave anything around without picking it up. My mom would never be there to yell at me and tell me to pick it up. It was great. It was freedom. The house was disgusting. We needed to move.

My second home was a little classier – well, at least we thought so. Since this was my second apartment, I wanted to do all those things I hadn’t done in the first one. I wanted to actually make this one a home. However, if you are living in a MTV “Real World” environment – it is next to impossible. My room was a little bigger, so I guess that I was moving up in the world. I was a little more responsible, but not much. Life at our house was a party every night, and again I realized I needed to move out. This time I moved back home into the comfort of my parents’ house.

Third time’s a charm, right? Wrong. After a long stint at my parents’ house, I realized I needed to be on my own. After tasting what it was like to be my own person – or to come and go as I please – I knew it was time again to face the world on my own. I moved in with my best friend, Brooke. We had a small, but nice apartment in downtown Bangor, and for the first few months life was great. We were more responsible, bills were paid and I had a full-time job. The only problem was, the people we rented from were not very respectful of their tenants. We started to get a bad ant problem and soon realized that they weren’t just regular ants – they were red ants. The building management did not believe us, but when they finally sent someone to check it out about a month after our first complaint – they decided they had to have a professional come in and “de-ant” our apartment. It was awful. Not only did we have an ant problem, but our apartment started to fall apart. Our apartment was nice; however certain things that you needed everyday didn’t seem to want to work after awhile. The toilet started to back up into our tub so we could no longer take showers at our own home; we had to go to our parent’s house. The closet doors fell off their tracks because they weren’t properly placed after the new carpet was installed (after the ant problem). We had called and called the management, but to no avail. We had no idea what to do, so we stopped paying rent hoping that would get their attention. We took pictures, and documented every call we made – we were actually being responsible adults in this situation. We finally got an eviction notice, and decided it was time to stop fighting. It was hard, but we made the final decision to make the move back to our good ole mom and dad’s. We were starting to get older, realize our responsibilities – but we also came to the realization that in the real world, you are going to get screwed. Our apartment manager actually tried to get the rent back from us, but after telling him about the documentation and how we had already talked to a lawyer, he backed out. Once again, we were back to the beginning – not knowing when our time for real world experience would start again.

The forth, and last time I moved out of my parents’ home was the last, hopefully. I was engaged, and my soon to be husband had purchased a “fixer upper” apartment building that we were going to live in and manage. When I saw my unit, I wanted to throw up. People, like I used to be, had lived there and had trashed it like I had trashed one of my apartments when I had started out. I realized that I was now grown up, and I was even a little embarrassed on how I had acted in the past. Sometimes, it takes something so similar to make you realize what an asshole you were. I can’t say that I have fully reached my ultimate “responsibilityness” but I do know that in going through changes from one home to the next, you finally develop a sense of self. I have seen my friends go through it, and maybe some of the people reading this can relate. Hopefully, someday, you will find yourself and a place you can call your home.

Random Post

2004-10-13T15:52:00.000-04:00

This weekend was a whirlwind. It really brought me back to when I was getting married and all the excitement, as well as the nervousness came back into my life. My husband's brother was getting married, and all I had wished is that I was somehow included.

I ended up doing something that I never thought I would do. I decided, at the last minute, to write two seperate cards. One for Kevin's brother and one for his new wife. I worked hard trying to come up with something to write, and when it was finished - it turned out better than I had hoped for. I had just wished that I had done this before - but at least, it wasn't too late.

The wedding was beautiful. I was able to see many of Kevin's relatives that I had not seen since our wedding in July. I just wish that my wedding day hadn't gone so fast and that it could have been a weekend long celebration instead of several hours. Although we had so much fun, I just wish I could bring it all back.

History With Research...

2004-10-13T15:38:00.000-04:00

Since I can remember, I have loved to research things. I have researched just about everything you can think of that is directly related to my everyday life. Before I purchase just about anything, I go onto www.epinions.com to see what my options are with the item I am about to purchase. Sometimes it gets a little much, since I really look into things before I buy them.

I have done more than my fare share of research papers. I think one, that I have discussed on here before, was far too much research than the others. I had to do a paper that I had exactly one year to complete. It was on the psychological profiling of serial killers. Yes, very, very morbid and it made me physically ill more than once to do the actual research. I got caught up in the fact that I really didn't want to do the topic anymore after the first couple months of research. Plus there was the fact that there was so much information out there on them that it was hard sometimes to differentiate between fact and fiction. Some people, especially on the internet, like to take their ideas and call them facts - when in fact they are things that they just made up. Of course, this is when the internet was fairly new so I was one of the only ones in the class actually using the internet as my main way for getting information. Boy was it hard.

I think in doing this research paper, I have come upon a different dead end. I thought there was going to be a ton of information on my home, but it turns out - there isn't much at all. I still have a couple more places to look - but other than that, I am getting a little uneasy wondering if I am going to have enough information to make this a half way decent isearch paper. Who knows. We will soon find out.

Looking Through Blogs

2004-10-13T15:31:00.000-04:00

Well, today was mainly a catch up day. I did a lot of homework for my ENG 101, ENG 162 and Medical Terminology class. I never, ever imagined College would be this difficult for me. I mean, not only do I have to worry about school - but I have two part time jobs. I finally decided to give myself a break. As much as I don't want to, I have decided to go to the night shift at my airline job. I love nights, and the people who work there - I miss them incredibly. The only thing is, I will have to give up a lot of time with my husband.

Kevin, my husband and I, have talked and decided that it is in my best interest to go back to nights. I really hope I am making the right decision.

To take my mind off things after I completed my homework, I decided to glance through a few blogs on Blogger. I think I have mentioned before that I used to journal a lot on another journal provider. I love looking at other peoples' lives through their jounals, maybe its just because I am nosey.

So now, that I have rambled on enough, I need to get ready for my medical term. class - ahh. This week is almost over.

What I know - Baseline Data

2004-10-13T11:33:00.000-04:00

WHAT I KNOW, BASELINE DATA, WHAT I ALREADY KNOW
In researching my topic of my home on 387 Main Street in Bangor, Maine I know already that where my house was located has been said to be located in an Irish community. I know that before Shaw’s was erected, there was some kind of bar that no one wanted to tear down because it was such a historical landmark for the Irish citizens that use to populate the area. I also know that the house was once a single family home. I am not really sure as to which year it was converted into an apartment building, but I do know at one time one gentleman by the last name of Overlock lived here. The one thing I do know is that Mr. Overlock was single, and I do not believe he was ever married. He owned some kind of business that was located right inside the house.

Classification Essay

2004-10-12T22:41:00.000-04:00

Classification Essay

Identity Theft. People talk about it all the time, hell I am sure Citibank won tons of customers over with their quirky commercials about housewives stealing old men's credit cards and such. I feel that on the internet my identity has been stolen. Although I am not sure who, what, when or how - I know that I have somehow been violated and I am not sure what to do. I mean, who do you contact when someone steals your email and instant messenger address?

It all started about two years ago. I was tinkering around on the internet when I noticed I had a new email message. When I opened it, I notice that it wasn't meant for me. It was from American Singles, which I knew was some kind of dating service, but in the header it said I had five new connections. That was strange since I had never signed up for American Singles, after all - I was engaged and I really didn't have a desire to meet anyone else. I was more stunned when I found out that these were all from other women who said they wished to meet me. I was dumbfounded. Had one of my friends played a trick on me or did someone screw up when they typed in their email address? That is when I saw the name it was addressed to. Andrea.

Andrea decided to use my email address a lot more than just once. She started giving it out to some of her clientele where she worked. I learned this from receiving email upon email from men pouring their hearts out to a stripper that worked at some joint in upstate New York. I got a little humor out of reading the emails, after all I felt bad that these guys had been duped into handing out their money in return for a fake email address from the bisexual stripper, Andrea.

One day, I received an instant message from a gentleman by the name of Andy. Andy told me that he was really excited that he got a chance to meet me, but he was really upset that I had read his email and never written back. I felt a little bad about reading the email and not replying back to it that I wasn’t the person he thought I was, so I decided to talk to him. He seemed like a really nice guy with a lot of issues. He began calling me a liar and he wanted me to tell him the truth as to why I was pretending not to be Andrea. I explained to him that someone had stolen my email identity, but he thought that was a little far fetched and told me that it was people like him that drive him to drink. I apologized up and down for Andrea’s actions, and tried to explain to him that I was sure he was a wonderful guy but that I couldn’t really help him because I didn’t know him or her and I just wanted to stop all of this mess. He told me that he should just shoot himself because no women were attracted to him. I told him that I was pretty sure that they were, but that he just had to find the one that was completely right for him. This was starting to be a real pain in my ass, and I wanted to get down to the bottom of it. I didn’t have time to council these guys who liked to frequent this girl’s strip club – after all, she was getting paid the money and I was getting the shit.

I decided to get my friends involved. I asked them to monitor every time I was online when they were. They would instant message me and if I didn’t return the message, they would write it down. There were at least three to five times in one week that “I” was signed online when I was really at work. I decided to get AOL involved but all they had to offer was that I change my screen name or change my password, which I had done many times. I wasn’t going to give up the screen name I had had since 1993, all of my friends and family knew me by that email and instant messaging address and it would be just too much of a pain in the ass to change it all over. I decided to live with it and continued to monitor every time my screen name was signed on when I was somewhere else.

About a week ago I started to get tons of instant messages from guys and girls that said they had seen my picture on some website called “Face the Jury”. When I asked what the exact web address was, I was taken to a site where there, in plain sight, was Andrea. She called herself “Nikki” and left all of my information for people to get in contact with me. My instant messenger address was there, as well as my email. Even though I have written to this website telling them that with her little slip she has caused a lot of problems, they have yet to write me back. I guess I don’t understand with all kinds of free email programs why this girl has chose to bug me with stealing my internet identity. It may seem funny to you, but I would like to see you get through one day’s worth of homework receiving sometimes as many as one hundred instant messages.

Work On Your Attitude

2004-10-04T11:17:00.000-04:00

Waking up this morning probably wasn't the best idea. Maybe that's why I was a little late to work. I probably just should have slept through my shift since today, was just a little too stressful for me to handle.

When I arrived two minutes late for work, I came into total chaos. The bag tag printers weren't working, and I developed a new found appreciation for those people who use to work in the airline business when there weren't any printers or computers - everything was done by hand. Today, I got to take a walk in their shoes, well maybe not a walk - but a quick jont. And, if that couldn't be enough, the first flight of the morning cancelled - AND one of our coworkers called in sick. As if we aren't short handed enough. This happened to fall on the ONE day I get to be on the ramp, and of course me being the nice person I am, volunteered to go on the counter. AHHH! Why do I do this to myself?

At the end of the shift, I was starting to file paperwork away and take care of things that needed to be taken care of when a woman approached me. "I'm here to check in for the 8:50 flight" Hmmm. I pondered for a second replaying what she said in my head a couple times wondering if she knew what time it was. "It's 8:40" I reply "The plane has already boarded and its on its way - there is no way I can get you on that flight.." "Well," she stammered "You are just being mean - You and I both know you can get me on this flight" "ahhhhh!!" I scream to myself (inside my head). Why do people always think that I am the reason they aren't going where they are suppose to go. She starts to tell me something about how traffic is so bad but all I can keep doing is looking at the clock realizing that no matter what she says - I cannot let her board. She goes on to tell me that I am this wretched person and that at any other airport, she would be able to do what she wanted to do with no questions. Man, would I like to know which airports she is going to. She begins to tell me that she is going to leave her bag with me and she is going to help herself to the flight. "No!" I exlaim. "You will not be going on this flight and it is final." In a way, I feel like a parent talking to there unruly child. "It is way too late to go, and unfortunately because you were late I can't get you on a flight until tomorrow." I braced myself waiting for an explosion. "WHAT?!?!" she questioned as if she didn't know what I was talking about.."Well Fuck You! I am going up there and getting on the flight!!" There was nothing I could say or do for this woman to make her understand that she wasn't getting on the flight. So, I just let her do her thing and I proceded to get my things together and get the hell out of work. I guess it's just another day in my shoes...

Sections 1 & 2 of ISearch :)

2004-10-04T10:09:00.000-04:00

INTRODUCTION, BACKGROUND, HISTORY, THE PAST
In this section you tell the reader your detailed personal history with your topic, going back to the beginning. It’s a foundation section, focused on the past.
I moved into my house at 387 Main Street in January, 2003. My fiancée at the time (now my husband) decided that it was a good idea that we purchase an apartment building because it was a good investment. I have always hated old houses, but have been mysteriously pulled by them in some fashion. My friend Brooke used to live in an old house that was built in the mid 1800’s – it was haunted, of course, and I always vowed that I would never move into an old house – after all, there is way too much baggage with an old house – not to mention there are physical things like old pipes, old windows and such that I would have to deal with. But we moved in anyway. And, like Brooke’s old house, some of the tenants claimed that the man that use to own the building still lingered in the house making sure everything was tended to. Sometimes you could smell cigar smoke when no one was smoking cigars. Then, there were the “others” that would run up and down the stairs, flush the toilet or make an incredibly hot room ice cold in a matter of seconds. This is why I wanted to learn more about my house’s past. Could there be “people” still living here, and if they were who the heck are they? I know about “Brownie” who used to own “Brownie’s Market” which was next door to my house - and he is a past owner. I know this because I found his grave marker upstairs in the attic.
WHY I’M WRITING, RATIONALE, PURPOSE
You do two things in this section. First, you tell the reader your motivation for choosing the topic, your reasons for wanting to write about it. Second, you lay out for the reader the questions you want to answer and subquestions to the questions. These questions and subquestions are often bulleted and not in paragraph form.
My motivation for writing this paper is that I am obsessed with the past. I love learning about people of the past and doing this ISearch on the history of my house was a reason for learning about these people. I want to learn about what kinds of people they were, what they did for a living and how this house was laid out before it was turned into an apartment building.
Who where the people that lived in this house before I did?
Was the house affected by the Great Bangor Fire of 1911 (I think it is 1911)?
What did the people that lived here do, occupation wise, while they lived in this building?
When was this building turned into an apartment house?
What kinds of additions did they put on the house and when?
Did anyone die in this house? (I already know that two people have)
Were there any families that lived in this house?
Where were all the rooms located in this house when it was not an apartment buiding?
What kinds of houses and business surrounded my house before it was turned into commercial property?
What kinds of people resided in this neighborhood before it was turned into commercial property?

Cause Essay

2004-10-03T14:20:00.000-04:00

The air has gotten thick. It usually feels that way when emotions are charged. It’s Wednesday, 4 AM. I groggily and hesitantly perch myself up at the counter and begin to help our first handful of passengers for the day. Like any other day at this time in the morning, I wish I never had crawled out of bed. Today, more than ever, I wish I was anywhere but here. Today is the day we all get to see the new schedule and “new schedule day” is always fun. Tempers will soon flare, chairs will fly, people will threaten (for the third or fourth time) to quit. However, “new schedule day” today is a little different. For once, as it should be, favoritism has been set aside and seniority will finally be considered. My stomach begins to ache as it is time for the schedule to be posted. Shit, if you will, is about to hit the fan.

As the schedule is posted, everyone rushes, like kids running towards the lunch line. I stand securely in the back waiting for everyone to start tearing into stuff, throwing whatever is in plain sight at the wall. You think that post office workers have a little built up stress, they have nothing on us airline workers. The thing is, we work hard at what we do. We take shit for people missing their flights, even though it was their choice to leave their house ten minutes before flight time. We get harrassed for missing luggage, even though it wasn’t any of us that actually loaded the bags, decided that we were going to pinpoint them and not load their bag in Boston and then hopped on the flight to Bangor to answer their questions about whether or not we know for sure that their bag is laying on a floor in a Boston baggage service office. We get called “assholes”, “bitches” and “fuck-ups”, hell, people treat us worse than their worst enemy sometimes. People scream and throw tantrums because their flight is a little delayed for mechanical reasons , I mean, do they really want to fly on a broken plane? With all this stress from the average day, you wouldn’t be surprised that we would flip out on something little like a schedule that didn’t go our way, and trust me, it never does.

One of the guys I work with, I shall call him Carmine, takes it a little harsher than the rest of us do. Carmine is straight from Napoli, Italy and he has a temper like no other. When he gets mad, get out of his way or face the consequences! I have been very lucky in not facing Carmine’s temper one on one, however, I have been the witness to some of his trials and tribulations with other co-workers and this day is going to be like no other. After the schedule, I hear some ‘what the fucks’ and some ‘holy shits” as well as some ‘I am going to quits’. I stay in the corner, like watching an accident where you know you shouldn’t look, but you feel compeled to. I start moving towards the schedule and I see the part-time lines of the bid. Whew. They aren’t that bad! I look around to see if anyone actually sees me smiling and that is when I see Carmine. His face bright red with anger, he begins to head toward my direction. “We all get treated like shit here, don’t you think, Nikki?” shit shit shit. Why does he have to ask me? Why can’t he ask someone else? I don’t want to get involved but I feel like word vomit is about to irrupt and then I am going to be in trouble.

“This whole schedule sucks” I blurt out. Why did I just say that, I don’t think that the whole schedule sucks – after all, mine isn’t half bad for once! However, what I created with that one little sentence was total, utter chaos. People start screaming – bad mouthing one another. The people with the higher seniority are bad mouthing the people that have the lowest and vice versa. People have no respect for one another and what I had done was stooped to their level. Because I could feel the tension in the air, I added fuel to the fire. When all was said in done, I was actually mad and I had said all these things that I had never intended on saying. After all, it wasn’t my place. However, I felt that because I had been “screwed” if you will in the past, I had the right to talk about how bad the current schedule was just because it made everyone else’s lives miserable.

The bid schedule never worked. People were catered to and treated as favorites after the schedule was posted and so far, work has been buzzing with mean comments and the air is even thicker than it was before. Our hope that our manager was actually going to be fair and treat us like human beings now blows away in the dust. The “new” schedule with her favorite people’s schedules changed has not been posted as of yet and I am sure, when it is, tempers will flare again. It’s kind of funny how the question, “Who said life was fair?”, lingers in your head when you are dealing with a situation like this. I guess no one said life was fair, but maybe if we were union at least we would be treated with some decency. I have decided to keep my mouth shut and not interfere anymore with the problems of others. I am happy with my schedule even though things just don’t feel “right”. I guess, in my line of work, they never will.

Comment #4 on Lyndsey McGowan

2004-09-29T09:34:00.000-04:00

Cause essay Paragraphs

I read this essay and unfortunately, it really strikes a nerve. It is like this because I have grown up with Lyndsey and her family - they have always made me feel like I belong with them. I have spent so many nights at their house and I know how things were before this guy entered their lives. It makes me sick to my stomach to hear what Lyndsey has to go through and I want so very much to help her but I am unsure what to do. Her sister is one of my very best friends, like I have said before, and I know how much this effects her - and she isn't living with them. I just wish I had all the answers, but I don't.

Comment #3 on Cigarettes

2004-09-29T09:27:00.000-04:00

Entry in which I commented on:

cigarrettes
There are times when I literally cant stand them, cigarettes that is. I have been smoking since I was 15, back then it was the cool thing to do, everybody my age would think woooow they must be really grown up to be able to smoke. So I started, knowing about all the things that they could do to you and yet in my arrogance not carring. I was young, in good shape and ready to take on the world. I was the one who gave them to my best friend in the whole world, Heather, she was kinda resitent at first but I wore her down and now she is as hooked as I am. Today, almost three years later we have decided to quit, so far we have tried the patch and just about every kind of nicorrette there is and nothing. Every time I see those dumb comercials I want to laugh. So hear we are with nothing left to try, at the end of the proverbial "rope", we have decided to go cold turkey. This is the first day cigarrette free and I freel like crap, but I'm holding on, plus I know that I am not alone in my struggle, as with everything, my best friend is with me.

I can really related to this entry and I chose to post a comment because it was so familiar. I have been a smoker since I was 18 which makes me a 6 year smoker. They say if you quit within the first 10 years, there is a chance that your lungs can go back to normal, hopefully within the next 4 years I will gain the will power to finally quit

Outro Paragraph

2004-09-29T09:22:00.000-04:00

Outro Paragraph

The bid schedule never worked. People were catered to and treated as favorites after the schedule was posted and so far, work has been buzzing with mean comments and the air is even thicker than it was before. Our hope that our manager was actually going to be fair and treat us like human beings now blows away in the dust. The “new” schedule with her favorite people’s schedules changed has not been posted as of yet and I am sure, when it is, tempers will flare again. It’s kind of funny how the question, “Who said life was fair?”, lingers in your head when you are dealing with a situation like this. I guess no one said life was fair, but maybe if we were union at least we would be treated with some decency.

Intro Paragraph Variation

2004-09-29T09:04:00.000-04:00

Paragraph Variation #1

The air has gotten thick. Sometimes it feels that way when tempers are flaring. The new schedule is about to be posted and all employees eagerly wait to see what their fate shall be. Stomachs are in knots, people are pacing and arguments have already started to begin. I, however, am usually not worried. I don’t have kids and I have never expected to have weekends off. After all, I have worked here for five years and I have only seen weekend days off twice – ever. I am hardly disappointed when it comes to the schedule because I set myself up for the worst case scenario – however this time; the schedule is a little different. Favoritism, as it should be, has been put aside and a “bid” as been put in its place. My stomach actually begins to churn for I know chaos awaits at the hand of our manager.

Paragraph Variation #2

The air has gotten thick. It’s Wednesday, 4 AM. I groggily and hesitantly perch myself up at the counter and begin to help our first handful of passengers for the day. Like any other day at this time in the morning, I wish I never had crawled out of bed. Today, more than ever, I wish I was anywhere but here. Today is the day we all get to see the new schedule and “new schedule day” is always fun. Tempers will soon flare, chairs will fly, people will threaten (for the third or fourth time) to quit. However, “new schedule day” today is a little different. For once, as it should be, favoritism has been set aside and seniority will finally be considered. My stomach begins to ache as it is time for the schedule to be posted. Shit, if you will, is about to hit the fan.

After much thought, I decided to combine the two into this intro paragraph 

The air has gotten thick. It usually feels that way when emotions are charged. It’s Wednesday, 4 AM. I groggily and hesitantly perch myself up at the counter and begin to help our first handful of passengers for the day. Like any other day at this time in the morning, I wish I never had crawled out of bed. Today, more than ever, I wish I was anywhere but here. Today is the day we all get to see the new schedule and “new schedule day” is always fun. Tempers will soon flare, chairs will fly, people will threaten (for the third or fourth time) to quit. However, “new schedule day” today is a little different. For once, as it should be, favoritism has been set aside and seniority will finally be considered. My stomach begins to ache as it is time for the schedule to be posted. Shit, if you will, is about to hit the fan.

ISearch Examples

2004-09-29T08:39:00.000-04:00

Because I wasn't in class on Monday, I kind of took it upon myself (by looking at other classmates' posts in their blogs) that I was suppose to look at the ISearch Examples that are given on the ENG101 Assignments site. Here are my reactions:

Geneology ISearch:

This was a very well done ISearch topic. It was so complete and it has really helped me into learning about some of the people that have lived in my house which is my ISearch topic. It would be awesome to someday have the time to learn about some of my family because a lot of my family feels that secrets are the way to go. There are so many skeletons in my family closed that hands and feet are starting to stick out. In a way, whenever I wanted to do some kind of geneology project, my mom was always soon to speak and say "I think you should do something else" - I guess it was so I would never find out that her dad left my grandmother when she was pregnant with my mom and her twin sister or that my real grandfather has two or three families out there that my mom wants nothing to do with. I just can't imagine not wanting to know your own brothers and sisters. Maybe I should have picked this topic.

Weight Loss ISearch

This was a also a well done ISearch topic. I like how the author wrote why she wanted to do her Isearch on this and included personal information about herself in reference to her topic. The thing is, there is SO much information on weight loss on the internet and I bet it was very hard to decided what, and what not to put in your paper. I have always been interested in weight loss because for me, it really hits home.

BILIARY ATRESIA ISearch

I really enjoyed reading this isearch paper. I never knew anything about Biliary Atresia and I can't believe that this could happen to a little baby. I am glad the author included personal information on why she wanted to do this topic and also included information on what she already knew before she started to topic. Very well done.

Orthotics ISearch

I really wish that this topic had a little more information. Even though it has a very personal touch to it, and I can definitly relate to what the author is saying, I wish there was more information - however, I see that the author did a lot of web searches which came up empty. This was great, however, I just wish there was a little more. I feel that I will be able to relate to this person because my topic is coming up empty as well.

Amunition and Guns ISearch

Very informative. I have always wanted to shoot a gun, but I have never had the chance. My dad used to shoot, but now because of his health problems, he isn't able to take me like he always promised when I was younger.

How to be a better dad ISearch

Very well done. I loved how with every bit of information, this father would put a bit of personal stuff in with it. Very, very well done.

Steaming and Bending Isearch

Very informative. Even though I can't relate at all to the paper because I don't have a clue about woodworking, the author made it easy to read for a person like me who doesn't know much about the topic.

Trapping Isearch:

Wow - I think if my grandfather would have known that he could get 3 bucks for every otter he trapped he would be in the money!! He used to trap otters and muskrats in his backyard here in Bangor because they would come out of the pond behind their house and eat their garden they had tried so hard to keep up. He would set the trap, then when they would be tempted by peanut butter sandwiches and end up inside, he would release them into the kenduskeag stream. He would transport them in the trunk of his car, and unfortunately, they would always defecate in the back causing a horrible stench. Maybe if he knew he could get money for his efforts, he would have gotten a licence.

Comment #2 on Fear and Loathing in Central Maine

2004-09-29T08:30:00.000-04:00

Chickens Volume 1 and 2

Even though this wasn't exactly what I would hoped for, the writing was very well done. The writer, even though they were talking about something I didn't really want to read, grabbed my attention enough so I would read the entire piece - 1 & 2.

I have been reading a lot of other people's journals and I hope that I am doing this correctly. I haven't seen a lot of comments, so I hope that it's okay that I am actually leaving comments. I guess I will find out in class today!

Comment #1 On Wee Man's Blog

2004-09-24T18:35:00.000-04:00

Intro to 5 Paragraph Essay
I look at my hands after jamming on my black $300 Fender Acoustic Guitar and realize I have been playing for a long time. "Dude, look at my left hand. Do you you see all those lines?" I say to my friend Evan. "Yeah dude. They look like you have placed your hands under your butt while sitting or a wire or something." he replied laughing hysterical. My hands were all red from me playing "Crazy Train" By Ozzy Osbourne the full version. I have been playing my Guitar for abouta year now and I have gotten pretty good at it. Than all of a sudden my alarm clock goes of and i realize I am awake. I realize that I don't have that awsome Fender Guitar(but playing on my cheap $100 Guitar I got from QVC), I don't know how to play the full version to "Crazy Train" (but i can play the intro), and I realize I am late for class again. There are many reasons why i can't play my guitar as well as I could. I have class everyday from 8-2, I am a very lazy person, and I enjoy skateboarding so much more. I have been playing for a year but I am still not that great compared to other people. You know they type who have never even picked up a guitar before and can just pick up on it quickly. I am not one of those people. It takes me a while to fiqure a new thing out.

Posted by Jblazon19
from "Wee Man's Blog"

I can really relate to this blog entry. The thing is, not many people can put a finger on that one thing that makes them tick, but I feel that he really knows what it is that he loves and it shows, by the description of his hands, that he takes it seriously. For me, it is scrapbooking. I love it - some people may not consider it to even be comparable to playing the guitar, however, I feel that it takes a little artisticness to what I do and I feel complete everytime I complete a page in my book. As him, it takes me a while to figure out what I really love - I have tried webdesign, which in the end didn't really make me all that happy...I really think with the dedication that he obviously shows, he would be great to hear..

I am putting my foot down.

2004-09-24T11:31:00.000-04:00

I had to delete this entry...someone has heard of my blog and unfortunately - I don't want to make this a bigger problem than it already is. So - all the entrys that are "risque'" I shall delete. Even if it means that my grade will be effected.

Things Graf

2004-09-23T01:44:00.000-04:00

I never thought my work of art would end up on a bookshelf. I wish there were a way to display every page of it on my walls, like wall paper telling a story of my life. This, is my first completed scrapbook. A red pleather book cover stuffed full of too many pages for it to handle. White and black pages full of memories that I will always want to remember, and some I would rather forget. They are my memories and someday, will be passed on to my children.

If you turn to the first page you will see a happy little sophomore girl dressed up in her best "decade day" outfit. I always loved decade day in high school, it was a day during homecoming week where everyone would dress up in the clothing of any decade they chose. Of course, I always chose the 80's. I would search for the very best outfit in the second hand stores that would compliment the first item I chose. That year, I found the best t-shirt. "Clear The Road...I'm 16"...I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants when I found it. I cut the neck out and found the ultimate teal sports bra to accompany it. Then, at another second hand store, I found a teal mini skirt with pleats. Word. Then, a yet another store I found the rainbow heals, tight black spandex bike shorts, yellow push down socks, and black and teal sweat band (hopefully it had never been REALLY used) to complete the total outfit. How I wish you could see the picture. You would laugh you ass off. I looked like a five dollar hooker. Maybe I shouldn't show this to my children.

Like I said, there are memories in my scrapbook that I will always want to remember, and for me, this is one of them. So much time always went into my decade day outfit to make sure every item was truely from that decade. The pages will never fade, and now, neither will the memories.

Create A Memory...

2004-09-23T01:27:00.000-04:00

Well last night was my first Creative Memories home class. If you don't know what Creative Memories is, it is a scrapbook super company that provides product for people who would like to preserve their memories in a special kind of way.

I started getting really involved in Creative Memories in 2001. I have never really had a hobby (except for sports) and my boyfriend (now husband) decided I really need to find one for a stress reliever. I had been to a Creative Memories Home Class where they taught us how to actually use the tools to cut our pictures and how to make a page your own with the use of stickers and pieces of construction paper. It was amazing how these pages turned out with just a little imagination. I never, ever would have guessed that I would get into something like this - after all, I am the furthest from Suzie Homemaker that you will ever get.

So anyway, after September 11th happened us airline workers (that weren't laid off) had a lot of time on our hands - but we still had to be there in order to rebook people whose flights had been canceled. I decided to scrapbook. I finshed an entire high school scrapbook (actually two) in that time period. I was so proud of myself.

So here I am. A Creative Memories Consultant teaching people how to make the most of their memories. To be honest, and I am really being honest here, I am not doing it for the money. I am doing it to hopefully meet people that were like me that didn't think they could be artistic or make something that their families would treasure for years.

So, last night, I did my show. I almost didn't make it because I have been so sick but my friend Mariza had a lot of people that were planning on showing up. I didn't want to disappoint her or anyone else. I was dripping with sweat, not only from the show, but because my temperature was so high and I kept studdering and grinding my teeth. The show went over okay and I made some sales surprisingly.

Temporary Absence...

2004-09-23T01:17:00.000-04:00

Well, tomorrow I am making a not so good trip to the doctor. It is not so good because I know something is seriously wrong. I have been sick for about six months now off and on and I know it just can't be very good. I kept blaming it on allergies, stress or maybe something I ate. I have changed my eating habits, have starting doing things that make my life less stressful and have started taking clariton. Nothing seems to work. I am anemic, so therefore I must be sure to make sure my diet includes red meat and green leaf vegetables - and of course, that just isn't it. I just don't want to go to the doctor. I guess I am afraid of going for more than just one reason. The most obvious reason would be because I just don't want to know what is going on with me in case it is serious, the second is that I am afraid I am being a hypochondriac and that nothing is wrong with me. ahhh. Well, I guess, hopefully, I will find out tomorrow. So...Wish me luck.

Forgive me for my absence, but I really don't think that anyone else would want what I have (in case I am contagious) AND I really don't think that I feel good enough...this is not some kind of sob story to forgive me for cutting class..more of an explaination just in case anyone cares :)

ISearch Topic! YAY!

2004-09-19T19:20:00.000-04:00

So I have to say that I am quite pleased about my ISearch topic. Saturday, I decided that I was going to take a big step and headed out to the Bangor Public Library. I haven't been there since I was in eighth grade. After I stopped at the front desk and received my library card, I headed up to the Bangor Room (upstairs) to do some research on my house. I live at 387 Main Street in Bangor. I am one of the few residential buidings on Main Street since it was overpopulated by Shaws and commercial real estate.

I found out that my house was built around 1890. It is considered a Queen Ann Colonial Revial and is featured in a book by a Maine author that did all kinds of research on Maine architecture. I started my research in the Bangor Room finding information in the old directorys. It's amazing that until the mid 1980's they would list people by where they lived. For example, you could look up 187 Thornton Road and find that my parents Beverly and David Hutchinson inhabit that home. If you went back even further to the 1940's you could look up an address like 387 Main Street and find that a man named William W. Overlock lived there and his occupation was listed as being a painter and glazer. This is exactly how I found most of my information.

I could go as far back as 1912. I found that is the first time William W. Overlock was listed. The last appearence of him was in 1957 where it was shown as being vacant. It showed the number 385 Main Street (which is the apartment next door) as appearing in 1929. I think this tells me that this house was converted into at least a two until in that year.

I found the previous owner (before I bought it) Ralph W. Brown Jr. as being a resident in 1979. That was the year I was born. Ralph W. Brown was not only the owner of this building but he also owned a place called "Brownie's Market". I asked some of the guys at work if they remembered "Brownie's" and they said "Ya! I used to buy beer there when I was in high school!"

I am going to go down to court house where I hope to find the registry of deeds to find out more on my buliding. I found out that I could find information in book 35 page 164. I am excited to find out more about William W. Overlock and the people that use to live here.

Essay Reactions

2004-09-16T22:17:00.000-04:00

Love Essay

First off I would like to comment by asking WHY on earth would she want to show this to her boyfriend. I guess partly it may be because she is missing something from her new relationship that she got from her old one and she wants to sit down and discuss it. That is my little “therapist” approach to it, but I just don’t understand why she would want to dig things up especially if she wants to have a more productive relationship. I guess it all depends on how long she has been with this new guys as well. When I first hear this story out loud in class, I paid attention mainly because I really could relate to it. I have been through a rocky relationship with someone and even though I so badly wanted it to work, it just didn’t. I was jealous of his brother, similar to the jealously shown here with her and her boyfriends little girl, and I was constantly acting childish because he would pay more attention to his brother than he did with me. I guess it just goes to show that when you are in the wrong relationship for you, toxic things will happen beyond your control. When you are in the right relationship, all those things that you thought you would still be worrying about are gone and then you can concentrate on the things that really matter – you two as a couple. Oh – and by the way – I wonder what happened to them the last weekend they spent together. It doesn’t sound so good but I wonder what went on.

Ballet Recital Essay

I loved this essay, probably because, again, I could relate. I was always trying to keep up with my sister that was twelve years older than me – well not keep up but be one step better than she was. She was never into sports, and my dad was, so I started playing sports around five years old. I danced and entertained – she was always the shy type. I had all kinds of friends and I was always doing something outgoing where she was always the type that had like two best friends and partied all during high school. Maybe it was our age difference, but I never got into that scene. Because I could never get her approval because of our age difference (she never though I knew what she was going through and vice versa) I decided to do the only thing I knew how – to try to do better than she did. Now that I look back on it, I did so many things that I wish I hadn't trying to one-up her. But, I guess that is just a lesson all in itself, right?

Red Sox Essay

I as well dream of the Red Sox winning the world series – I just didn't get into this essay as much as I did the others, probably because I just really started getting into baseball a year or so ago. Don't get me wrong, I have always been a Red Sox fan and I had watched them on TV, but I hadn’t really gone to any games (live) or paid attention to the players and what was going on with everyone.

Molly Essay

I loved this essay because I really got a feeling on how Molly was. We all wish that we had that one special person that was kind, good looking and talented all in one. It is one of those people that you wished you had as a best friend or boyfriend/girlfriend.

ISearch...

2004-09-15T01:00:00.000-04:00

Congratulations! You have St. Anthony's Fire! Today
known Ergotism, this illness is caught
through ingestion of a fungal infection of grain,
usually rye. If you are not already, you soon are going to be suffering from dizziness,
hallucinations, and a sensation of burning in
the limbs, thus giving the disease its name. It
could result in gangrene. The good news: there
is a 60% chance you will survive it! The bad
news? You will wish you had not. You will have
lingering symptoms for the rest of your life,
including mental impairment and being more
susceptible to it in the future rather than
having immunity. You probably live in a rural
town undergoing a very wet winter to have
caught this skin-reddening sickness.

Which Medieval Plague Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

So, I have been really thinkin about my isearch topic (obviously as you can see above) but I was sidetracked by a Quizilla quiz on which midevil disease I have. HOWEVER, I have been thinking about my topic. Lyndsey, my best friend's little sister, and I were discussing this (she is in my ENG101 class) and she thinks I should do "The Ghosts Of Bangor: Fact intertwined in what people think is fiction". I can get a lot of information on the internet, and I narrowed my topic down enough so that it wouldn't be too hard to write about - yet it is not too narrow so I wouldn't be able to find enough information. What do you think? I just don't know.

13 going on 25

2004-09-14T11:35:00.000-04:00

The other day I went to Dunkin Donuts with Lyndsey, one of my best friend's little sister. It's kind of crazy the way things work out, hell I was a senior in high school when she was just going into seventh grade. It makes me feel so old and I hate it. It's kind of funny they way time plays with your head. Sometimes it makes you mature or helps you learn things from life experience. For me it just feels like one day I woke up and I wasn't thirteen anymore. I was twenty-four.

Some of the best days of my life were in junior high and high school. It makes me wonder what happened to people when they say, "Oh, I hated high school" or "I am so glad high school is over". For me, I would give anything to go back there again. I guess it was because I loved school. I would always find something interesting in my classes except for chemistry and algebra. Those were the dreaded classes I never want to take again. I played varsity sports, basketball and field hockey, and I had the kind of friends that I never lost touch with. We listend to music like Pearl Jam and Bush and always had our raido stations tuned to 97x, an alternative radio station. Even though, according to one of my best friend Darci, I would drop off the face of the earth during basketball season, I would resummurge in the spring and we would have some of the best summers of my life. My friends and I went through all of our "firsts" together; first boyfriend, first kiss, first car, first breakup. There were many nights spent at each other's houses crying and laughing until the sun came up the very next day.

Where did those days go? When did I gain all this weight and become the frumpy person I never thought I would be. When did I become a wife and decide that I needed to find out what kind of carrer I was going to enter into? I wish I could just go back to sleep and wake up again in high school. Sometimes I dream about being back there, and at first it is scary, but in the end I am always happy, daydreaming in D4B study hall and hoping that that certian senior guy would just talk to me. Why do we have to grow up?

Person Graf

2004-09-13T11:07:00.000-04:00

There will always be one person in your life that you wish you knew more about. Maybe it's that person you see at the coffee shop everyday getting exactly the same order as you, maybe it's that one guy you have been dying to ask out or maybe it's your father. Whoever it is, there will be some point in your life that you wish you had made that extra effort to get to know them - maybe it if was just asking what kind of car they drive or where they like to go on vacation - anything just to know them a little better. This is what I wish that I would have done with Kathy.

I am usually not a morning person, but when I would work mornings at good old American Eagle Airlines, I got to see the commuters. The commuters were airline pilots or flight attendants that were usually based in Boston or Newark. The would make the weekly and sometimes daily commute to Boston in order to catch the flight that they would be working. There is Matt, an "Eagle" guy himself who brings us donuts in the morning during the summer; Barbara, a flight attendant who works for American "mainline" who is always laughing and always telling new stories of her travels; Dinah who is an absolute doll whose husband, Froggy, always brings her to the airport and lovingly sees her off before she goes to take the 767's to Europe and exotic destinations and then there was Kathy. Kathy, a pilot for Continental Airlines, was based in Newark and was always smiling, even if she didn't get on the plane. She was always on time, and always polite no matter what the situation. Occasionally, when the flight was oversold she would laugh and say "shit, shit, shit!" and then go talk with one of the rental car agencies to see if she could do a one-way rental to Boston to make her trip on time.

About a month ago, I was watching TV and came across a news story about some woman pilot who was missing. It was Kathy. It was foggy that morning, I remember, and people had thought that she hadn't made it to her destination because of poor weather conditions. The people that were waiting for her on lobster lake, became worried when she never showed up to pick them up. They called for help and a search party was formed. I kept thinking that she had to of landed in a small lake that she couldn't take off from. After all, seaplanes take a little more distance to take off than to land. Days went by and I kept thinking how hungry she must be because she must be still on that lake without food. A few more days passed, and she was found. Her twin engine seaplane had crashed into some mountian due to reasons still unknown to this day. She had died, instantly I pray, but her plane's engine was still running when they found the wreck.

A sympathy card was floating around our small station for Kathy's family a couple days after she was found. I had no idea what to write since I didn't really know here that well, finally it came to me. "She had a beautiful smile, we will all miss that incredibly." I guess I just wish I could have known her better.

Sick.

2004-09-10T16:57:00.000-04:00

Well, I guess I paid for last night. What I forgot to mention was that I had slept earlier yesterday because I just didnt feel right - when I awoke last night at around 9 PM, I felt even worse. I was achy and had all the signs of the flu. After I did my post, I started to feel a little more woosy so I went to lay down to take a little nap before work. THAT was the wrong thing to do.

After some bed spins (and I wasn't even drinking!) I decided it was time to move this party into the bathroom. Not fun. I hate throwing up. Seriously, I am SO dramatic when I have to vomit - I cry, a lot. It is just the worst thing ever to me. However, I still wanted to be a trooper so I jumped in the shower to get ready for work. That didn't work out so well either. So, I decided to call into work. I always hate calling into work because people talk about you like you are the worst thing ever when you call in. The thing is, I never call in and I am sure that people this morning were like - GOD, she is always sick - or crap like that. The thing is, its true that I am always sick however - today had nothing to do with that. I am sick a lot, but I don't call in.

So, I am going to get some more rest...I have to work at 4 AM again tomorrow morning. Wonderful.

It's 12 AM...What Time Do You Have To Be At Work?

2004-09-10T00:20:00.000-04:00

So, its 12:13 AM. I am still awake. I have to be to work at 4 AM - that means, I have to start getting ready at 3 AM in order to make it their on time. I am so not a morning person.

In order to go back to school full time, I had to make a lot of sacrifices. Going part time at my current job, American Eagle Airlines, was one of those sacrifices. Now, you may not think that going part time is that bad, but I really need the money. The thing is, after September 11th, the airline industry just isn't as stable as it used to be. So I decided that it was time to go back to school.

When I worked full-time I worked with the most amazing people, at night. My shift was great and my supervisor was even better because he is one of my best friends. We would make work fun, but still be able to get things done that needed to be completed before nights end. Planes would come in, People would be missing their luggage, flights would cancel - but it was okay, because I knew my job and I was comfortable working with the people I was working with.

In the morning it is a different story. I feel like a newbie. I have been with the company for almost five years but when I work in the morning, I feel like I just started. I have to ask to go out for a short break, I have no idea where I should be and when, and I just can't ever feel anyone out that works in the AM with me. The one good thing is my friend Shelagh is working with me in the mornings too because, like me, she is going back to school and had to give up "night life" in order to do that.

So here I sit. Still not accustomed to my morning schedule. I would still be at work right now and my body is telling me I can't go to sleep. I guess I could take some Nyquil - but then I would never get up - plus it will make me feel all drowsy. I guess the first step is to get off this damn computer and go lay in bed, right?

Crime Scene Investigation

2004-09-09T23:46:00.000-04:00

So, I have always wanted to be a crime scene investigator...the thing is - there really isn't much of a calling for one (well specifically) here in Bangor, Maine.

The thing is, I wanted to become a crime scene investigator (or CSI) way before the show CSI came out. My sophomore year of high school I did an English midterm paper on the psychological profiling of serial killers. I went behind the minds of killers like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacey and Jeffery Dahmer. Some people thought I was a wack job - but my meaning was more deep than listening to these awful stories. I wanted to find out if they had a common denominator, something that made them simliar to other serial killers.

I think the one that got me the most was John Wayne Gacy. This guy was a definite wack job and it really made me sick to my stomach to read about him. He lived in a house, with his wife and family but found his purpose in life to terminate the lives of men he felt were homosexual prostitutes. Some of them were kids, most of them. Some of them were gay, some of them were not. He killed these men and then buried them in his basement using lye, a chemical agent, to speed up the decay process. He also threw some of them in the Chicago river. Neighbors complained of a smell but no one caught this guy until he had raped and murdered over thirty young men.

The thing is, I never really thought I could handle becoming a forensic psychologist simply because I couldn't handle this story. Plus, here in Bangor where I want to spend the rest of my life, there really isn't a need for a forensic psychologist. But, I am not giving up. Even though all of my friends think it's weird that I wang to go into this and my family doesn't think I can do it, I believe otherwise. I think that I can help people by anaylizing scenes and stopping someone from commiting more crimes.

Maybe someday I will be able to work in a CSI unit, but until then I will just continue to go to school until I find out exactly what I want to do.

Unique Graf

2004-09-08T11:22:00.000-04:00

Scars on a person can tell a story. For me, I have them all over my body - I have never broken a bone - but I have many scars. Many stiches and many tears made me the person I am today.

The first one would probably be the worst. On the left side of my face is a long scar starting in the corner of my left eye and ending all the way on the right side of my jaw. When I was seven years old, I was attacked by a dog. It almost killed me and I am lucky to still be here today. I have had fourty-seven stiches on that side of my face and for a long time, I was petrified of dogs. My parents got me a dog to get over my fear a couple years later which is where I wound up with some more scars. Buddy, the shizu, wasn't a very friendly dog and he liked to terrorize me - maybe because he knew I was afraid. We eventually had to give him away which you would think was sad - but I was releived. He ended up going to one of my dad's friends and completely mellowing out. I was a little upset when I saw how good he could be and I didn't understand why he was so mean with me...

I have a scar right above my right eyebrow. This one I refer to as my "annoyance badge". When I was about six, I used to hang out with this girl that was a few years older than me that had some severe learning disabilities. My parents were alright with this because they knew her family, but today I am not sure that they made the right decisions. "Tiffany", as I will call her, had a horrible temper. If we were going to do something, it better be what she wanted to do or else I would wind up getting an "indian sunburn" or kicked. One day, while I was at Tiffany's house, we decided to play "find the mouse". I guess there was this mouse in her shed and she really wanted to find it to keep as a pet or something. Well, I said something like "This is stupid" or "I'm going to go home now" and she just didn't like it at all. She pulled me by the hair, threw me on the ground and started to beat my head against a concrete block. Keep in mind, she had a severe learning disability so she really didn't know that what she was doing could kill me. When she was done, she had cracked my forehead open - blood was everywhere. She grabbed my hair again and told me if I ever told anyone what she did - she would kill me. But I didn't cry, I just ran from her house to mine and I DID tell my parents. My parents, after bringing me to the hospital where I got ten stiches, told me I was so brave. This scar gave me fear, for I was not brave at all, I was scared that someone - or even Tiffany - may try to do this again. This is when I started to be afraid.

Random Post

2004-09-08T02:27:00.000-04:00

Had to delete this post as well...sorry :(

Class Reaction

2004-09-08T01:55:00.000-04:00

Okay, So I wasn't in class on Friday and I am kind of cheating...However, after looking at other people's blogs in the class, I think I am suppose to do some kind of reaction when I first stepped foot into English 101...and of course what I thought of the teacher.

First off, I had high expectations of English 101. Before I had even stepped foot in the class, me and my geeky self had already explored the faculty pages of EMMC to find out who I had for a teacher. I had been keeping track of John Goldfine’s blog and I was so excited to learn that we would be keeping our own blogs for the class – afterall, I am a power blogger myself (I have never denied my “geekiness”) . When John read the piece “Double Standard Dad” (I think that is what it was called), I have to admit, I was in awe. I have always thought that using whatever language you want to get your point across was necessary in writing and I was happy to see that he felt the same way.

I am always nervous to meet new English teachers because I love the subject so much. I love writing and I am always scared I am going to get a teacher that will criticize my writing so much, that I just will not want to write anymore. To give you a heads-up, my grammar is awful and sometimes that doesn’t get me very far. I am taking proofreading and editing this semester so hopefully I will be able to incorporate what I am learning there into my writing in ENG101. I guess we will see…

Inventory List Graf

2004-09-08T01:04:00.000-04:00

A list of what is on my scrapbook/school table:

Blue Medical Terminology Three Ring Binder

Three Hole Punch

Three empty Coke Cans

One empty mini Pepsi can

Empty Bag of Rold Gold Pretzels

Best Buy Bag

Two 8x12 Black, upright paper holders

One black mini office organizer that holds
*elastics
*pencils
*highlighters
*pens

Four Three Drawer Organizers Holding My Scrapbook Supplies

Four Creative Memories Videos

My Creative Memories Consultant Demo Album

One Sony Viao Laptop

One Bottle of Trim Spa

One Hairbrush

Two Packs of Parliament Light 100's

The owner of this table is an absolute slob, but obviously is a busy slob. They like to drink soda and look like they try every diet solution possible - afterall Trim Spa is the newest fad. They like scrapbooking obviously and it looks like they may sell it in their spare time because of the videos. They look like they work hard as a student because of the very well organized Medical Terminology Binder. It may be possible that they have too much on their plate at one time. Through percise planning and a little more organization (and picking up) maybe they will be able to make it.

Syllabus Questions

2004-09-04T13:49:00.000-04:00

Because I was not in class on Friday (not due to sickness, well that is if you don't consider being a die hard Red Sox fan a sickness) and I did not get a chance to post my syllabus questions. So, even though I may not receive credit I thought I would post them on here.

1. Can we Post pictures on our blog?
2. Can we change the appearence of our blog by using HTML?
3. Do you want us to delete comments if anyone other than the other students comments on our writing?

Overwhelmed (Post 2 of 4)

2004-09-02T15:16:00.000-04:00

I am feeling a little overwhelmed lately with school and all. Today, for instance, I had my proofreading and editing class. Now, I have always loved to write – but grammar has never been one of my strengths. The first day of class I was completely baffled by plurals. Now, plurals aren’t that hard, but it seems like I have been writing incorrectly for a very long time. I am happy that I know what I am doing now, but in a way, I am worried that I won’t catch on. I don’t know if it is the way that I was taught earlier in school or what, but everything I learned on Tuesday was more than a refresher, I actually felt like I was learning something new.

Not only am I going to school full time, but I am working part time for an airline. I have never really worked part time while going to school except in high school, so I figured that I would have a lot of time on my hands. Of course, I failed to realize that I had also never going to college full time. I decided to take on more responsibility, I took a fifth class and I became a Creative Memories consultant. I love to scrapbook, which is weird to some because I don’t come across as a “crafty” person. However, I have always wanted to become a consultant because I would love to teach people how to scrapbook; after all, it has brought so much joy into my life, I would love to find someone else who will enjoy it as much as I do.

So tonight, I not only need to clean the house, do my homework and walk my puppies: I need to go to a scrapbook party to learn how to do my job. It will be fun, but in a way, I will feel guilty that I am not getting much done in the home and homework area. So, off I go to get a start on things.

Worst Teacher Graf

2004-09-01T11:35:00.000-04:00

Second grade is suppose to full of happy memories. Happy school memories of kickball, four square and art class. However, everything changed when I found out I was going to be getting Mrs. Pickard.

"Eww. She is mean. She once put a kid in time out for the whole day!" some kid on my bus said as we were pulling into school.

"She once gave a kid detentions for the whole year!" said another.

I knew better though, kids liked to dramatize everything and I was pretty sure all the stuff they were telling me was made up. However, a pretty big part inside me told me to run - to leave school and run all the way home. Something told me that this wasn't going to be a good day.

When I arrived into class with my new, purple zips (they were only the coolest shoes ever) and my brand new outfit which included the coolest Debbie Gibson tee, I felt like I was on top of the world. All of a sudden I heard a crackly old voice yell.

"Okay you kids, I have arranged a seating chart. It will be boy, girl, boy, girl and I don't want to hear any complaints!"

Oh my god! She was as bad as the other kids said she was. I mean, hello! She was assigning us girls to sit next to boys! We were never going to be able to talk and I had to sit next to two people I dispised. AHHH! This was going to be the worst year EVER!

At the end of the year, I realized this was the worst year ever. I had already had to stay afterschool and write "I will not pass notes" twenty-five times - one for each student in the class. I never got into trouble, but with her, I was on her "most wanted" list.

Things were okay after I got out of that HORRIBLE second grade class - but to this day - I will always remember Mrs. Pickart as the worst teacher ever. I later found out that that was her last year of teaching and sometimes I think that maybe it wasn't her fault she was so mean. After all, I always give people the benifit of the doubt.

Remembering September 11th...

2004-09-01T03:02:00.000-04:00

September 11th is approaching, and like others I assume, a funk has swept over me. I guess it’s partly because I work for American Airlines, and the events of September 11th came way too close for comfort. I wasn’t in a building saving lives nor did I have anyone extremely close to me pass from the events. However, I feel that I was directly affected just by association and to this day, I still get teary eyed whenever I hear people tell their story.

The morning of September 11th, 2001 was hotter than usual. I tossed and turned in bed and when I looked at the clock at 6 AM, I knew I better go back to sleep – after all, I worked nights so I needed the sleep if I was going to be at work until 1 AM. At around 8, Kevin (then my fiancé), started to stir and get ready for his class. We were staying for the time being at my parents’ house because getting an apartment while trying to save for a wedding was nearly impossible. I could hear my mom and Kevin talking in the kitchen as I drifted back to sleep. My television was on because I sometimes like to listen to the morning show while I drift in and out of sleep. I started to dream about the airport; about working at the ticket counter when all of a sudden a plane flew into the terminal where I was working…I woke up thinking I was having a nightmare. When I opened my eyes I saw a plane crashing into a building. At first, of course, I thought I was dreaming until I heard my mom yelling for me to get out of bed and see what was on the television (by the way – I am not psychic or anything like that – before when I was talking about dreaming about a plane crashing into the terminal where I work, I was dreaming as I was listening to what was happening on television). As I finally awoke and looked on the TV, I saw the second plane crash into the south tower of the world trade center.

We were being attacked. I had to be dreaming. They kept saying over and over again that it was a small regional jet and all I kept thinking was that we had a plane, a regional jet that flew from Bangor to LaGuardia – an airport in New York City. I immediately called work. No one knew what was going on. I told Colin, a guy I work with, to get to a TV as soon as he could. I can’t explain what was going through my head at that time, I am sure almost everyone felt the same way. As soon as I gathered some composure to actually start calling some of my close friends, news hit that a plane crashed into the pentagon. I started calling people frantically – but all circuits were busy. I later found out that a woman that I had met recently was on board that flight. She had boarded the flight and was an employee with United Airlines and was planning a fun mini vacation to Las Vegas.

I still had to work that day and after watching more of the chaos on television, I decided I really needed to relax before I had to go into work and face people that would be upset and distressed. Tanning was the only thing I could think of. On the way there, a radio bulletin came over the music – a plane had landed in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania. I pulled my car over and saw many others do the same. The world was coming to an end.

I feel almost selfish sharing my story. I didn’t risk my life trying to save others, I didn’t have any family nor close friends die in the events of September 11th – and I was not hurt. However, I am sure everyone has a story to tell and to write my story is kind of a release as corny as that may sound. People soon forget what happened on September 11th. I found out later a pilot that I knew very well had a father and brother working on the top floor of the north tower – they were never found. I feel that sometimes when we feel like life is worthless, we should stop for a moment, pray, and remember the events of September 11th.

I end with a poem that I found relating to September 11th which I found on a very moving tribute site (www.september-11th.us).

This has been kept alive and moving since 9/11. In memory of all those who perished this morning; the passengers and the pilots on the United Air and AA flights, the workers in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and all the innocent bystanders. Our prayers go out to the friends and families the deceased.

IF I KNEW ......

If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,

I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would givet promised to anyone, young or old alike,

And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.

So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?

For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day,

That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss

and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.

So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear,

Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear

Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "Thank you," or "It's okay."

And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.

- Author Unknown

Hands Graf

2004-08-30T11:35:00.000-04:00

My hands...one of the features I have never liked about myself - well, not really my hands - but my fingers. I have abnormally long fingers and yes, they are great if you play the piano or if you want to palm a basketball - however, I am not coordinated enough to palm a basketball and I have ZERO skills on the piano (I can play heart and soul, but how is that benifiting from my long fingers?)...People sometimes confuse me with E.T. when I go to point something out.

My nails are short. I like to bite them because I am always nervous. People are constantly telling me to stop biting my nails - hell I have even used that bitter nailpolish to stop biting them - but eventually, I got use to it and I continue to bite. I wonder why people don't just say "stop being nervous", because afterall, that is why I am biting my nails.

On my left hand there should be a wedding ring. I was just married on July 3, 2004 and my ring was so beautiful, unfortunately - I developed an alergic reaction to white gold and I almost had to cut my finger off. So now, I am ringless...I almost feel like I am not married. People ask me why I am not wearing it all the time, they ask - So - is everything okay with the marriage?? Yes you fool, everything is wonderful... I just can't wear my ring...

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