Just Another Night at TJ Maxx

It was another night at TJ Maxx, but when I noticed a man walk straight into the automatic entrance doors without allowing time for them to open, I knew something was going to happen.

"Did you notice the black gentleman wearing a dark colored shirt and white print on it?" I asked my loss prevention who responded with a no. "He ran straight into the doors without letting them open. I don't know if he is on something, but his eyes were blood shot; he might be high, so keep your eyes open."

Any time we see something odd, not usual or suspicious we are to note management (myself in this case) and/or loss prevention (whenever they are around.) Alert signals is what we call them; the gentleman who nearly broke my doors walking in was full of them.

I ignored the incident after having a small laugh and went along my normal business, until I saw a trio of women who come in every so often. These women often come in to return items that are questionable at best. Somedays I allow the returns. Unfortunately for them, today was not that day.

I was declining this trio of woman on each register, as they bounced around from cashier to cashier to return anything they could to get their "cash back." Tonight was not their night, since I continually said no to their items. Their aggression levels were raising. One with surprising calmness tried pleading her case. I had none of it though and stood by my decision. Another tried the yelling route and was just as ineffective as the former.

No, no, no, no, no, I'd politely say to all of them. After these women, a new challenger stepped up to the plate. The gentleman who ran into the door.

I had not seen him before, but I could tell this tall man was with this trio of women because he was attempting to fool my cashiers just as the others were. I caught on, and declined his return.

"You're making me angry." He stated with a snarl. Unfazed by his statement I continued to decline another rerun of his. His angry statement was then repeated. To this I politely responded, "Well this third item, I would love to accept!"

But at this point, his anger had turned into rage. The beast inside him was starting to come out as he curse words flowed out of his mouth. F-bombs and B words were flying, amongst other names like those which apparently only black people can say, and I this point I stood their unfazed.

I have never been one to be scared by any person or one to back down from a fight, but I have always been a position where I am alone. Here I am a manager, I have my associates to protect a store to look after and company to represent. I would not be in a fight tonight.

In the eyes of the man before me, I must have been looking for one. Just after the words, "I'm gonna f*** you up" came out, he took a swing at me. I was so shocked his action for two reasons: the first, his punch was unbelievably slow! Perhaps my previous judgement of him being in some altered state from drugs or another substance was true because I dodged his swing with ease. The second was the fact that he actually swung! WHO DOES THAT?!? Was this return really that important to him!?

After the swing, I asked the man to leave the store immediately. But he was not finished.

Behind the row of registers I walked continually asking the man to leave the store while he muttered his words of anger towards me. Much to my chagrin, instead of walking to the doors, he walked behind the registers and directly to me.

Putting my hand up in a non-aggressive way, I asked the man again to leave. His response was another swing. Being a much faster swing than the first, I was unable to dodge the fist flinging towards my head. The crowd waiting around the store collectively let out gasps of terror at the violent action. They were just as shocked as I was at the stupidity of this action over something so small.

The impact was not as jarring as I thought it might be. Honestly it didn't even hurt. And just like to the woman who pleaded her case, to the other who yelled, to this man who punch me I looked back at him, unfazed.

"Get Out Of My Store." I exclaimed. With a stern face, and seemingly unaffected by his brute force I responded to the man without physical action, without fear, without thinking of anything else. And he walked out of the store.

Pain started to creep into my jaw and throat. I order one of my associates to call '911' as the gentleman walks out. Nearly everyone who walked by me voiced their concern for me. I would respond with, "I'm fine." "I'll be okay." "You know, as a kid I always wanted to be a boxer." "I've been punched before, and I'm sure it won't be the last time." Truth is, I wasn't completely okay.

I was angry; I wanted to cry. I was just struck by someone's first and unable to strike back, fully defend myself. I was filled with so much emotion because I became something I am not used to being; a victim. The emotion was great but I stayed true to the words Paul mentioned in his letter to the Philippians, to have the strength to be content in all circumstance through Him who gives us that strength. Here I swallowed my prideful desire for a swift revenge, the river of emotional tears at the gate of my eyes and the victim mentality sneaking around in my mind.

From that moment on, I had a peace.

The police came, too little and too late as per usual. The sheriff got my story, one of a witness and that of the video surveillance.

The adrenaline rush was leaving me, which means the pain in my throat/jaw was strengthening. I asked for medical assistance from the police officer. Paramedics were called, which I learned was an awful mistake.

Within a few minutes the sirens were within ear shot.

"Freckin firefighters. Their sirens are so embarrassing!" Said one officer comically to another as we waited outside for them. "I bet you they're gonna come in here, not care about the space they'll take up and park all in the lanes here!" replied the other officer.

He was right.

Within a couple minutes one small firetruck came to my rescue. Oddly enough another two or three followed right behind them. Then I found myself surrounded by eight or so firemen who treated the situation like a family reunion! I found their comments amusing...

"Hey I didn't know you were gonna be here!" "Yeah, I'm riding with these guys tonight! Good to see you man."

"I think my cousin works at this TJ Maxx."

"I wondered what happened here."

After taking my blood pressure and bringing out a stretcher 'just in case', the one fireman paying attention to their patient stated, "You're young, you'll be fine."

I'm in pain and I wanted to be sure there was no structural damage to my body, but the fireman let me know, he was 'not a doctor' and said I could get x-rays if I really wanted. Smooth. Being the only manager, I could not leave the store without anyone for backup, thus I said thanks for them coming, but I won't be needing the stretcher tonight.

The next few hours as the store closed and customers left, I spent the time answer phone calls to my store manager, district manager, friends who work for TJ Maxx, and other regional personnel. I told the story over and over to everyone as they asked what happened.

Throughout this, one question loomed in my mind. I have had the most difficult experience with TJ Maxx since day one. Its been an odd experience like a roller coaster than goes down swiftly and rises rarely. I call it a "special" experience. I hear from other people in my position and above me that things like this rarely happen, yet all of them seem to happen to me. I don't understand.

Either I'm not supposed to be here, or something is trying to force me to leave. Then again, I recently heard a saying that God gives his hardest battles to His strongest soldiers. If that be true, then I hope soon the wartime will end.

The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Originally I wanted to post a "Welcome to the Real World" post on the day after I graduated. Unfortunately, the aforementioned 'real world' stole my time, and the post was never published.

Fortunately, 7 months (almost to the day) after graduation day, I've returned to my lost love and started writing again, and specifically tackling this 'real world' that I has stolen my time. Enjoy.


Day after Graduation:
AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! What am I doing? Where am I going? Why am I here? What should I do next? Who am I supposed to be with? Why is there no right answer anymore? Where'd all my 'real' friends go? Do I really have to work all the time? Do I own my life?

Breathe....breathe....deep breaths....deeper breaths...sigh...okay. I think I'm gonna be okay!

Place to live: Check
Roommates to live with: Check
Job: Not quite yet, but working on it!
Money: enough to last me till I get a job.
Life: Exciting!

To be honest, the day after graduation wasn't as chaotic as I may have made it seem. It was a lovely day actually. My family was in town for the graduation and wasn't leaving till later. Thus my security blanket was there to cover me just a wee bit longer. It was day two away from school that these questions started.

Fortunately, things were falling into place for me rather quickly. I secured a management position with TJ Maxx which started me a month into the future giving me a convenient time for a vacation. I had spending money to play around with. I was meeting new people and ready to take on the world!

The first day of the rest of my life was full of untapped potential. I was on the cusp of an uncertain future which excited me and scared me all at the same time. Yet to everyone else, it was just another day.

My On Going Friendship

It was 10:30 in the night. I was on my way home from a comedy club that was funny for all the wrong reasons. While driving the car my best friend, Cameron, mentions tonight would be a good night to look at the stars of Colorado. "We actually have stars here!" He teases, knowing I live in Southern California, where the only lights we see through the smog infested sky are usually airplanes pretending to be shooting stars. We parked in front of his newly renovated home and stepped out of the car. Through the light, hazy clouds I gazed at the stars flickering on and off.

Standing next to Cameron looking up while in the middle of a quiet street, I couldn't help but think about how he and I had grown throughout the years. I find it astonishing that two people who first met as kids on a playground in a small city of Northern California, would be standing next to each other yet again in a not too much bigger city in Northern Colorado. We have quite an enduring friendship.

It was in the 5th grade when we first met. I can't even remember exactly how it happened, but Century Assembly K-8 school in Lodi, California gets the credit for being us together. For me it was my fourth school change in my parents search for a better education for me, while it Cameron went there for nearly all of his elementary years. Despite it being one of the bigger private schools in the area, our Christian private school was rather small, allowing Cameron and I to spend more time playing basketball during recess than we may have had at the overcrowded public schools in our area. It was interesting how even during our first years together, when we were at our youngest, I preferred his company over the others. There was something special about Cameron. But after a couple years of school together, again I transferred schools.

Middle school separated us for a time, but the distance was not too far since I attended a rival school and competed in sports games against him now and then. It was in high school when we were reunited with one another. Again, I was able to enjoy his company, and this time I stayed four years as we graduated in the same class together. While in high school we spent our time creating memories anywhere we could: basketball (as always), football, spring plays, Honors English, sleep overs and birthday parties. We were considered adopted sons in the eyes of the other's parents. It was a delightful time.

I must admit now that I wish I would have spent more time with him than I did during high school. Perhaps if I did, I would have been able to convince him to stay in California and go to Azusa Pacific University with me, instead of going elsewhere. But as I write this now, I know it was the absence from one another after high school that allowed our relationship to grow on a more intentional level. It was pain, heartache, success, work, girls, advice, any excuse we could come up with to talk to one another that brought us together. We spent 4 years of college on routes that took us from the same state to opposite ends of the United States, yet here we were again, standing next to each other staring at the diamonds in the sky.

Our lives are separated and in the midst of change at the moment. I'm living the life of a responsible SoCal  resident, planning my days of when I'll start my coffee shop and write for the rest of my days. Meanwhile Cameron lives in Colorado, engaged to a wonderful girl, and stepping into the "real world". Its simply crazy how far we've come, still friends and a part of each other's lives. It's a blessing. At his upcoming wedding, I'll be standing nearby in the same spot I pray he'll be standing at my wedding, as the Best Man. I'm not sure what God has in store for the both of us, and I don't know if the plans we've made together will ever come to pass. But one thing I do know, is our friendship will endure.

How God Has Provided

Over the last few weeks, I had piles of stress poured on me like concrete while I managed college life and classes, attempting to find myself a place to live after graduating, the actual graduation process (planning the family visits and my time with them), and the inevitable job search. Yet despite how extenuating the process, God provided for me like none other. It is literally amazing to look back and see His handy work.

For instance...

My Apartment: It was back in February when I asked two of my friends if I could join them in their apartment plan for post-graduation. I wasn’t sure if I really could stay down in Southern California, but I knew it was what I wanted to do. We started lightly looking at apartments and houses here and there somewhat expecting something to fall into our laps at our low price range. This unfortunately didn’t happen. Days turned to weeks and before we could realize it, we were just days away from graduating and had yet to secure a place. Our searching became frantic. We came close a few times to finding a place we all agreed upon, but for one excuse or another we didn’t follow through as planned. Finally, after receiving a recommendation to a place from a friend, we attempted to fully apply for an apartment in San Dimas. At first glance, the placed seemed almost too nice. With 2 pools, 2 hot tubs, a dog park, fitness center, tennis court, FREE COFFEE, as many parking spots as we needed, and a reasonable price tag for it all, Waterstone Apartments looked to be the perfect fit. 

It was the week before finals, aptly nik named, Dead Week, and we decided to apply since we had to be out of our school apartments in less than 2 weeks. I didn't know how much time and effort went into applying for an apartment, but I was thrown into a crash course full of turmoil. Once we turned in our money for a hold on the apartment, we were informed we had three days to complete the application process or forfeit the money. Here is where chaos ensued. The stress level over those three days as we pulled our stuff together to please the leasing office was overwhelming and completely unnecessary. It was an act of God that allowed us to hold it together as slowly things started to go wrong. During the application process, it seemed like anything that could go wrong, did. 

-We had a roommate shockingly announce he would be breaking the lease before the contract was up. This meant he wouldn’t sign if he could not easily leave when he desired. This added pressure on the others to find "real jobs" in order to be approved for the apt on their own and afford it. 

-A different roommate incorrectly filled out the application which, once corrected, led us to need to find a co-signer with less than a day's notice. 

-My pay stubs were considered insufficient to the leasing office since the company I worked for oddly did not put my name on any of them. This eliminated, on paper, the income I brought to the table for our approval process. 

-The specific apartment we chose apparently broke (where, I’m not sure, it’s a mystery to me) and we were placed in a new spot which raised our monthly rate. 

-The main person we worked with originally was on his days off and we had to work with a different person whom gave inconsistent information from what we had from our first person.

The struggles we faced made me question almost every moment if it is supposed to be this hard or if was even worth it. Silently, I prayed to God for his help to make things smoother, because I felt like so many things were outside of my control and I could not handle it. Above all else, I wanted to stay in the SoCal, I didn’t consider moving to NorCal as an option. On the third day when everything needed to be turned in, literally in the final hours of the process, I'm not quite sure where everyone because we running around scrambling to get what we needed and finish it all. The water was murkier than we had yet to see, but it was becoming clearer. Somehow our co-signer was able to apply on short notice and attain all the extra paper work they needed despite their information being in a different state. Divinely, I had my business phone (to share internet to my computer) and laptop with me allowing me to sign our renter's agreement online, while I sat in my car in the middle of a parking lot miles away from our apartment office, the situation’s battleground (a different story for another time...) And despite the obstacles we had consistently thrown in our path, everything came together and the keys were handed to us a few minutes before the office closed. Sigh of relief! 

I laid on the carpet of my new apartment next to one of my roommates, celebrating our victory by resting in our new home. I could hardly believe it all came through in the end. The feeling is hard to explain because so much work went into it in such a short amount of time, but to explain it in a few words I’d say it was like being stuck in traffic for hours and taking an exit where miraculously there is no one else stopping you from going home. One week before graduation, I held the key to the next year of my life in my hand, thanking God for watching over us and coming through during the final hour and supplying all our need. 

My Job: I have been applying to jobs for life after college since January. I learned from a friend that the job search can be a very long process. Even the statistics will tell you the average time for finding a job is around six months. Thus, I started early hoping the months would be cut down by the time I graduated. Five months later I graduated and all the hours I put into applying left me with two mediocre job offers, and no job. The two offers I received I had declined because after learning more about the first one I realized it was a job I was simply not a good fit for, and the other ended up offering me slightly more than minimum wage for a position I had done for a year at a higher rate at part time status, because of that I rendered it a silly offer. I convinced myself that it was the right decision to decline those positions, but then again, they were jobs I could have been working, gaining experience and a little money. 

One job I tried my absolute best to get was the Executive Team Leader position (this ETL position is essentially an assistant store manager) at Target. The internship version of this position eluded me a year before, but I was determined to end in a different result. I actually applied quite a few times during my job search as Target stores in my region post over and over again the ETL position being available. A few times I received calls back and even started the interview process. Each time I received a call it was from a private number, thus giving me a head’s up that this was going to be important. Each call I received had anywhere from a couple days to a month in between. The first time I was called during a class, even though I previously stated I wouldn't be available during those times. I was left a message and asked to call back, but unfortunately they left no call back number. Silliness. Failed attempt number 1. Next I received a call from a store in the Sacramento area where I lived previously with my sister. I applied up there just in case all my other plans fell through. Plan B had me moving in with my sister and taking the Target ETL position up North. The conversation/small interview was going well until the woman on the other end learned I was in SoCal. Immediately after I was currently living in Azusa because of school was revealed to her, I was told to apply in the Southern California area and hung up on. Unfortunate. Failed attempt number 2. The third call I received from the Target district I lived in was the most promising. Not only did I perform well in the first series of phone interviews, I was invited to their regional office for another series of interviews. A day or two before the big interview day, I was called by one Target within the district asking to interview me early before the regional store got to me. They wanted to see who I was and interview me for their open positions just in case the other store didn't require my services. This made me feel special, as if they were truly interested in hiring me soon. I accepted and interviewed with them. The positions they had weren't what I wanted but they were good back up jobs, I decided to myself. 

Finally I had the interviews I had waited so long for at the Target regional headquarters. During these interviews I assumed since they put me through so many interviews, I believe it was 6 in all, they were genuinely interested in me and I would have the job I wanted the most. Unfortunately, a week went by and I heard nothing from any store or office I interviewed. I emailed the regional headquarters, the Target which called out to me before, and the original person who gave me the first phone interview asking if there was any information about the ETL position I applied. I received one email from the three groups, and it was the generic email which they send to every person whom applies and are declined. Not only was I not offered the ETL position I had been looking forward to, I was not offered any position in the entire Target region of stores, yet encouraged to apply elsewhere or at another time.  Frustrating. Failed attempt number 3. I applied again once more when they re-posted the job I wanted as available again. This time there was no contact whatsoever from any Target representative. Complete failure. Failed attempt number 4.

I essentially gave up on that position and continued to apply to arbitrary jobs elsewhere. A couple days before graduation, I received a call from TJ Maxx asking me to come in for an interview. I accepted and soon found myself in an office with a the store manager of their Burbank store (which I learned has small time stars like women from America's Next Top Model and other shows I don't watch as regular customers) and their district manager. The district manager noted to me that herself and the other woman interviewing me had once worked for Target and were very familiar with the Target program which essentially was the Executive Team Leader. Apparently they ran the program for their respective stores during their time there. For reasons unannounced, they left Target and came to TJ Maxx, where they now started the same program and establishing the same position, only under different names. I laughed at myself because I literally applied for the same position for a fifth time without knowing. The store manager stated she used to do the hiring for the ETL position and was astonished I was not hired previously by Target. "I would have hired you on the spot!" she said to me genuinely. My heart warmed hearing those words. I put all my effort into the interviews hoping to secure the position I desired so much with Target and was more than disappointed when I was offered nothing. Little did I know, God was planning on giving me the position I prayed for, just with a different company.  

A few days after I left the TJ Maxx interview with a smile on my face and expecting to be offered the job, I received the call I had been waiting for, for so long. Finally, I was offered the job for the position I wanted. Excitement. Successful attempt no. 1! The regional manager spoke candidly and honestly on the phone stating how through her experience between Target, TJ Maxx and even Nordstrom, I was in the best store for the position I was in. The pay is better, the benefits are finer, the hours are superior, the balance between work and outside life is easier, basically the whole situation was greater than what the other stores have to offer. My goals and even what I imagined would happen were completely shattered as I was told so much good news. God showed Himself strong on my behalf granting me the desires of my heart and pouring into me more than I dared to ask, think or hope. 

The stress I once had bearing down on my shoulders, has been lifted off of me. I have a good place which I can call home. I have a job which doesn't start for a couple of weeks, giving me some much needed vacation time to rest, relax and have fun. I am just so thankful at how good God was to me. I have no idea where I'll go from here, but I do know where ever I go, I'll have Him by my side, providing for me every step of the way. 

Goodbye APU, Thanks for the Fun!

Azusa Pacific University you've been great. Expensive, but great. You brought me a bunch of friends whom brought joy into my life, continuous trials for me to conquer and to handle pressure, and a sweet comfort which made this university a home for four years.

I remember arriving my freshman year eager to move into my new dorm room though it was 3 in the morning. I had visited once two years before during a college trip with friend from my high school, if I had not seen APU first hand, I would not have broken my desire to choose a non-religious outside of California. Just being on the campus for less than 24 hours, I knew I was meant to be here. But now it was dark without the light of the moon, I couldn't tell if I was at the right dorm or not. Then I saw the words 'SMITH HALL' on the two story building across from the parking lot. I walked forward with a fluttered heart. The Smith Bot, a very large Transformer made out of cardboard, standing tall acting as a silent guardian at the front entrance of my new home. Upon entering, I felt completely like a freshman, in awe of everything I saw, even that which was mundane. The chairs in the front lobby, the open space and windows to the campus in the front room were breath taking, the RD's apt door was so cool! It was all wonderful...except community bathrooms - luckily I had the only suite style room in Smith which gave me and the room next to me our own personal bathroom and shower! =] I searched for my room and when finally walking in I fell in love with the white walls, and blue mattress APU graciously provided. With a little help from the RAs awake, I got settled in and slept my first night in my room, alone and filled with the excitement of all that college was going to be: friends, foolishness and most importantly freedom.**

I remember when I first found love at APU, I didn't expect it to happen so quickly, but I found what I wanted more than anything else in the world. With a girl to guy ratio rumored to be close to 27:1 or something like that...you'd think my chances of finding love would be great. I fell in love, but with the great outdoors, sorry ladies. I was introduced to the High Sierra program which introduced to a part of the world I had not seen before in person; a beautiful world! I got to do things I didn't know I loved to do! I stayed in God's country; land so beautiful and precious only God could have designed it that way. It was here where I made a decision to make the relationship I had with Christ my own and to be a committed follower of Him. It was here where I experienced the love of a family though no one was related. It was here where I laid out under the stars and in the coolness of the night made important decisions for my life. I had the fortune of staying there for 2 semesters, nearly a year of living just outside of the gorgeous Yosemite, making memories with friends which will last eternally.

Academics always came easy to me. It was the reason why I bounced around from school to school as a child without moving. My parents searched for an education which would challenge me, or perhaps meet me at my level. There were none, until APU. Here I received a different type of education where I still learned the usual academics, but the knowledge influenced my personal life because here I had a few professors enter my life with a level of care for their students I had yet to experience. The closest professors I had were so close, even calling them by their first name seems to proper: Bobby, a biblical professor who for a time I had as a mentor as he help me deal with problems I face everyday just like he did in college, D-Dubs, a philosophy professor who everyday made philosophy fun and hilarious while showing how you can be yourself in everything you do, Givens, hands down my favorite business professor I encountered as he showed his students how to be a man of integrity in family life and work and to have a heart which knows no limit on giving without being taken advantage of or taken for granted. These men effected my life outside of the classroom as they all took time to have lunch, dinner, or spend life with me, going beyond the call of duty and touching my heart. That was what I needed: a personal touch. With that type of encouragement and backing, I was able to go on and become the first male Nuñez in my family to graduate from college.

Having been a education journeyman, I have not had a true friend group I could call my own. There have not been people who I could walk in to their room/apt as if it were my own. It wasn't till my senior year at APU where I was able to truly find this. It was a weird yet natural feeling hanging out with these guys as I found myself spending significantly more time with them than I did in my own apartment. A dream come true of sorts for a person like me who thrives on a solid community. A blessing for my life, even now in life post-APU, I'm living with a few of these guys in a new apartment living the dream of friends for life.

APU, you've been good to me. I appreciate it. But now it's time for me to say goodbye.
Thanks for the fun.

**If you're reading this and 1. not signed into Facebook and 2. not friends with me, you might not be able to see all the photos I linked.

A Strange Occurence

Monday was the first day above 80 degrees that I've experienced in a while. I'm usually not a fan of any weather above 75ish, but I decided to soak up the sun and sit outside on my university campus. Because of the warmth, I knew this would be a great time to work on my tan (not really...) and wear my Chicago Bulls Scottie Pippen tank/jersey (which I inherited from my sister who so graciously left it in her the closet of the room I moved into in our house after she moved to her apartment for college. Thank you sis! It still fits perfectly!)

I sat in the sun for quite a few hours, talking to people as they walked by, writing an article for the sports site I write for (time for shameless plug! I'm a sports writer for a small site, Sportsrageous.com. Though my position is unpaid, I love it still. Despite my Bulls jersey, which I wear because I appreciate great players in the NBA, I bleed Purple and Gold. Thus most of the articles I write are about my Los Angeles Lakers. The one I wrote most recently, if you're interested, is here. Even if you don't like the Lakers you should click on the link because I need people to "look" at it =P thanks), eating lunch, and planning what I needed to do the rest of this week.

This normally would be an unworthy of blogging, but something interesting and strangely cool happened. While I sat, I was having a texting conversation with my sister about a position(s) with Target which I had about 5 or 6 interviews for, yet failed to secure. I was disappointed, because I've been chasing a couple of specific positions in the Target district I'm in for over a year. The last text she sent me was talking about looking for where God will open doors for me. Then I was interrupted...

A tall somewhat awkward looking, blonde, bearded, white male calls out to me asking how I was doing. Since I noticed this guy previously, who happened to be sitting at a different table behind me, I knew I didn't know him and assumed he was calling out to someone else. Then he calls out again. I turn to see who he is talking to and there he was staring at me with a semi-creepy smile, looking at me as if he expecting me to know him. He looks like a person that first comes off as odd, but usually means well. I gave him a polite hello and attempted to go back to my article. He had other plans. Thus began our table to table conversation.

"I noticed you're wearing a Scottie Pippen jersey are you a Bulls fan?" he asks. I make sure to let him know I am NOT a Bulls fan, but a Lakers fan instead. We have small talk about basketball and the career of Scottie Pippen. Next the guy monologues about how God has been speaking to him through the number 33.

Scottie Pippen happened to wear the number 33, which is now on me, thus I guess he assumed God was sending me to talk to him. I didn't really want to talk

He continued the topic of 33, "Every time I look at my watch its like 12:33 or 1:33, I decided to carry a cross for Lent which is 33 days, Jesus lived for 33 years and only preformed 33 miracles that were written in the Gospels. 33 is a huge number for me right now."

I thought him weird to think all those things were God's way of communicating to him. He reminded me of a movie thriller in which the main character, Jim Carrey, sees the number 23 every where and thinks it is a sign. It is possible, but maybe his watch battery died thus it is stuck at 12:33? He was literally carrying a cross with him for the season of Lent, which I am fairly certain is 40 days, excluding Sundays. Jesus performed only 33 miracles? I haven't counted, but that might be true. My criticism continued to grow with every word he said, and still he had more to say.

Somehow he brought up allergies and started speaking about his friends being healed of their allergies. He voice mumbled a lot at this point, so it became difficult to understand him. I am pretty sure he mentioned a friend who was allergic to gluten and was healed from it. Unless I heard wrong, he also stated he had a friend who could not eat food since she was a baby, but was now healed and eating lots of food...I'm not sure if that is even possible, but if it is, it would be pretty incredible.

At this point I wanted to be done with this odd conversation and was able to subtlety beckon a friend whom I spotted from afar. I stated my goodbyes to him and tried to engage myself in conversation with my friend whom I hoped would rescue me. Unfortunately my friend left too quickly, and the interesting fellow got up out of his chair and stood close to me.

He got closer, almost to a point of discomfort, stopped and said, "I have a feeling that I should pray for you. Its no accident you're wearing the number 33, and I think this is God telling me to pray for you. If you don't mind, can I pray for you?"

I started out being skeptical of this guy, but like I stated earlier, it seemed like he meant well, so I allowed him to pray for me. I can always use some extra prayer. He put his hand on my shoulder, we bowed our heads and closed our eyes. The next 20ish seconds were awkward because all that could be heard was silence. Apparently, were praying in our hearts and not aloud or so I thought.

Like a booming sound, he started speaking, catching me off guard from the absolute silence he just broke. His prayer was simple, getting straight to the point.

During his prayer, I hear the words, "God open a door in his life and show him how to go through it." I began to recall those were the last words my sister told me before this guy popped onto the scene.

The wheels in my mind start turning and I come up with a new idea. If the Lord works in mysterious ways, perhaps it really was his plan for me to encounter this guy. Maybe I wore the number 33 so he could talk to me, instead of what I thought previously: me speaking to him. (Catch the difference?) I realize these are kind of big maybes, but then I think about my normal Monday routine consists of sitting in a nearby coffee shop instead of on campus. It makes me think that this occurrence is either really arbitrary, or very well planned out. I like to think everything happens for a reason.

I also my think my sister's prayers are working. When she is praying for God to open a door for me, and a stranger comes and prays almost literally the same words, its a strange occurrence. But it makes a believer that something is truly going to open soon, at some point, somewhere. I pray my eyes are open to see it.

Relatioinships and Hope

Everyone goes through heart break every now  and then in their lives. Mine recently comes from a girl I've been dating for almost ten months. Our surprising end was a shock to my friends whom I had to tell and even more so to myself.

The feeling of a breakup is hard to explain because it is different to everyone. But I think the following paraphrased words of Regina Spector shows them the best:
     Its like forgetting the words to your favorite song. You can't believe it; you were always singing along. It was so easy and the words so sweet. You can't remember, as you try to move your feet attempting to feel the beat. You put your headphones on to drown out your mind and hear the song once more. It just doesn't sound the same.
It feels like that; so much more and nothing less.

Fortunately, for every broken heart, there is hope. Life is like a romantic movie where the protagonist has his/her heart broken in the beginning and somehow they find hope, then love by the end. They may have lost their identity for a time, their belief in love, or perhaps their will to even try, but they come back and find themselves in a place that is astonishingly better than before. Yesterday, I found hope.

I went to have an interview at the Target district office in Santa Fe Springs, Ca. and sat for nearly two hours in a room with about 20 other candidates while we waited for our names to be called. It was at the beginning I met a girl named Amy. Amy was from a rival school of my university, but I accepted her as a friend once she admitted she wish she attended mine! Rival school or not, we had great conversation together.

The conversation I had with Amy were hardly work related. Family, ethnicity, TV shows, schools and upbringing are only the topics I can remember. Our similar spirits allowed us to be honest with one another and led me to believe we could very well be friends outside the doors of the Target office.

At one point family and personal relationships came up. We laughed about how both of us had similar families: Very conservative, Christian, have a strong sense of family, aren't exactly "normal", whose strong willed and up front nature has a tendency to scare friends and even lovers away sometimes.

I mumbled something about how I've lost lovers because of family. They either didn't understand the up close and personal nature our my parents culture (which roots in their Italian and Mexican heritage - two very family oriented, loud and no need for personal space cultures) or mistook their actions for intentional aggression. Then I said hopefully I'll find someone that will put up with them as I do.

Then hope stepped in. Amy responded to my comment, "I'm sure you will."

Half heartedly I answer, "I hope so."

Amy pauses for a moment, looks me directly in the eyes and says, "No, YOU WILL!" I was amazed at her confidence, as she continued, "If that is the desire of your heart, God will give that to you. From what I can tell, you're a good person, and I'm sure God can see even more than you. Every day there is a wife somewhere putting up with the issues, complaints, words of their mother/father-in-law when they don't have to. They CHOOSE to. Why? Because they love their spouse. God will lead you to someone who will give you that kind of love. It WILL happen." Then she went back to looking around at everyone else and their conversations.

The confidence of Amy took me completely off guard. But she inspired me to believe in something new. I don't believe there is "one" girl for me  that God has been saving and preparing for me. That is just too silly. But what I do believe is that the Lord leads and He provides. I didn't think God would interfere with relationships, but if it is the desire of my heart, why not? Now, I have regained hope for my romantic future.

26 Days Later

Some people say life is a rollercoaster; a ride that will show you beautiful highs, and send you down faster than you realize. Its absurdly and amazingly true! I don't know why life happens like this, but it does.

I used to believe there was a system to it. The ripple effect is what I once dubbed my belief. In a simple explanation every action was a rock. Small deeds were pebbles, extravagant ones were boulders. If you did a large good deed, it is like you through a large rock into the pool of life and the ripples of the aftermath caused by your rock/deed were the good consequences that came back to you. But if you did a wrong thing, you through a bad rock into the water and would then receive ripples which aren't so good. Its a simple, and somewhat silly belief I have. But I kind of like it, because it gives a system that seems to work in this huge life.

Unfortunately, the past days have blown my system out of the water and left me in a state of perplexity. It is hard to draw any real conclusion from what has been happening to and around me. The ripple effect would say my actions resulted in these consequences, but what I am experiencing is out of the ordinary. I hardly know what to do or think about all that has happened. Perhaps if you saw my past days you'd understand:

First, I was asked to be by best friend's best man in his wedding (I'm honored and so excited!), then I got into my first car accident (it was small, but inconvenient. Everyone was fine and it has been taken care of)
Next, I ran and finished a marathon as a memorial to my brother! (check that off my bucket list!) But I came out injured, and 3 weeks after I still have some trouble standing for long periods of time without pain in my ankle. (Some days are worse than others, I need to invest in insoles and new shoes for special support)
After, I was invited to a Target open house because I was notified I am being reviewed for a job I want. (I've been applying for over a year and a half. The fact that I've had two interviews recently excites me!) Suddenly, the girl I was dating ends our precious relationship as we were beginning to blossom into something bigger than we ever experienced. (Just when you start to truly believe they are the one, they pull away, or so it seems.)
Finally, I won a contest which awarded me $300. (I was astonished to get an email which said my prize was on the way. I didn't believe it until I later confirmed I won! yay!) Only to be shadowed by the sudden death of my comedic uncle. (May he rest in peace. Please pray for my family.)

With all this happening, its only fitting I have a song titled "Everything Has Changed"stuck in my head. Can you recognize with me the fact that its been weird?! This is the epitome of the rollercoaster life is! Before I can finish celebrating or grieving an occasion, something else happens. I am living a life right now where I don't know what to do with myself.

Throughout all of this, there actually has been something consistent in my life. The truth that God is good. Though the past 26 days has been an emotional, physical, and psychological thrill ride, He has given me a peace which I understand just as much as I understand this past month. (Which is not at all.) I have heard more people recommend, directly and indirectly to me, to stay rooted in Christ and spend time with Him during this short period of time than any other time in my life! But I listened. I've been doing my best to focus on Him and His word. It is because of Him I'm beginning to understand how I'm able to be content in every situation like Paul stated in Phil. 4:11. It is all because of the peace he has given me (us). This peace, beyond my comprehension, is beautiful, even in my current situation. I may not know what to do, but at least my uncertainty is filled with peace.

I don't know what will happen n the days to come. I know I'd like things to be less drastic, but if not, I know I have a peace around me. Thanks be to God, for He is good, and...consistent.

Why I Did It and then What Happened

Today is February 10th 2013. It is the anniversary of my brother's death. For those of you who know me, you most likely don't know that I had a brother growing up. He has been my best kept secret for many years. I don't usually talk about him, because when if I bring him up, often times people ask questions about my brother (because they didn't know I had one) and I don't like telling the story of his death. But there are times that I do like to talk about him, because he is my inspiration.

As a little boy, there was no one else I looked up to more than my brother. He was the coolest, most popular, physically fit man I ever met. And I got to share a room with him! Even though it was his idea to name me Michael, he always called me "Best Friend," and honor I loved so much. He was the greatest man I ever met; the only person I ever wanted to truly wanted to be growing up.

He had some truly great moments which I had the fortune to witness. One of those events was a marathon. My brother ran one for his senior project for high school back in 2000. Not only did he run and get a finisher's trophy, he trained hard every day and earned himself a 3rd place in his division honor finishing with a time just over 3 hours and 20 min. He was incredible! Devoted to his mission, he finished in an amazing time for someone in his position. He was an inspiration.

13 years later, I ran a marathon. My entire reasoning for running the marathon was to be closer to my brother. I had a feeling that if I were to put myself in the same training, the same pain and the same grueling race, I would in fact be more connected to him than before, maybe even be more like him, like I dreamed of as a child.

When I crossed the finished line with my then girlfriend, she held me close in her arms as I began to fall over from the pain I had in my injured ankles. In this moment a rush of feelings flooded my heart and unfortunately I did not feel any closer to my brother. I mostly felt pain all over my legs, soreness in my body and just overall tired.

I remember my girlfriend asking me if I felt something special because of what I had just done. "You're amazing! Such a motivation!" I responded, "I don't feel amazing. I only feel pain." It was true, I didn't feel like I did anything special in the moment, although it was astonishingly hard to complete a 26.2 mile race. Moments later I received a Facebook message from a friend. which said, "I am so proud of you! You have now done something most of us will never do. You have shown your perseverance and heart. I felt very moved. You are an inspiration!!" I didn't really believe I was an inspiration, but within 5 minutes of finishing two people thought I was.

As I recovered in a medical tent getting attention for my ankles, I began to think about the monumental adventure I had just went through. As more time went on, I received congratulations from many people for the feat I had just accomplished. Suddenly I realized, I actually was something special. People were telling me I was an inspiration and a motivation for them to start doing something in there lives.

I saw my brother as an inspiration because of the dedication to the goal he set, the pain he went through in training and in performance, and the outcome of it all. Apparently people saw the same thing in me. Though I didn't feel like I was connecting to my brother in the moment, I was becoming more like him than I ever had before. Becoming more like my childhood idol wasn't easy, there was pain sweat and tears, but I made it. My brother was an inspiration, and I had become one too just like I've always wanted.

The View from the Sidelines

The person who came with me to my marathon posted an interesting  and worth reading view of a marathon from a spectator.

http://michellemeanders.blogspot.com/2013/02/true-grit-surf-city-marathon-2013.html

Thanks to Michelle Bonja for including me!

Marathon: a Crazy Journey

I've been wanting to run a marathon for a long time. Today I did such a thing. I have to say though, I didn't think I'd be in such a great amount of pain after.

I've been training (improperly) since last summer. I had the ambition, but no real knowledge of how to prepare for such a daunting task. I started running to my gym every day either before or after playing an hour or so of basketball or soccer. For a while, I thought it was working.

Later I received a plan/schedule from an experience marathon runner which had me running only 4 times a week with specific miles each week. With the running I did before this schedule, I thought I could definitely add miles here or cut a day there if I needed. This continued practically every month I trained.

Once November rolled around, I was given a new pair of shoes which were supposed to help me run better and longer. Little did I know, these shoes would lead to the extreme pain I felt while running the marathon this morning. The shoes I had, did not support my feet the way I need them to be. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this. The effect was this: I was training with shoes which were causing my feet to adjust to the lack of support, thus creating bad habits in my running while I trained. My lack of knowledge would prove painful even more so because I purchase two pairs of these shoes.

These bad habits were starting a pain pattern in my left ankle. I didn't know the shoes were the problem, so I put a brace on and just kept running. In early January, I went out for a run which was supposed to be the longest I had done up to that point. Halfway done, I felt the strongest ankle pain I had yet to feel during this training. Nearly 8 miles out, I now had the unfortunate burden of walking back to my apartment.

Flash forward three and a half weeks to today and the pain and discomfort with no running outside of playing a little bit of basketball (because honestly, my leg could be broken and I'd still play basketball haha, I LOVE IT!) remained.

With a terrible night's sleep because of the nervousness completely inside of me, I woke at 3:40 am and prepped to leave my hotel room. Packed and ready, I left to go pick up my girlfriend from her room so we could go to Denny's for a pre-run breakfast. Next we walk to a shuttle in the light of street lamps and bear the traffic of going down the road two miles in about 40 minutes to the start line.

I feel like I want to throw up from all the nervousness I am feeling. I try to remain calm, but my girlfriend is the one who helps keep me focused and encouraged. It was my first marathon, you couldn't tell looking into my eyes, but one look at my hands and you could see them shaking. I couldn't place my bib (my number for the race) on my shirt or the tracking device on my shoe because of the jerking in my hands. Time flies when you're tense. Its 6:30 and my waves starts in four minutes.

A kiss goodbye and I'm on my way. The ankle injury had completely thrown of my goal going into the race. Instead of the sub-4 hour goal I was attempting to train for, I was now aiming for something close to 5 hours, hopefully. So with a sore ankle, I kept an 11 minute mile, giving myself a few minutes insurance for my goal.

Somewhere between the 8th and 11th mile, a series of small hills set off a strong pain in my already injured right ankle and a subtle yet growing pain in my left. What I actually remember was after a brief visit from my girlfriend, I found myself in the need for a slower pace. My pride said no, but my ankle could barely handle any pressure.

For the 13th mile, I stopped passing up people and mostly watched as they passed me. First a barefoot guy, then an older man with a shirt whose shirt read: "You just got passed by a Great-Grandpa," and immediately my ego took a shot. I ran on and off till the 18th mile. That was when I began hurting so much, I had to walk! Fortunately, I had an angel appear who had been waiting for me. My girlfriend saw me in pain, and not a moment too soon. She rushed to my side and walked with me until I knew I needed to start running again.

Once I began running again, it only became harder as the pain grew from bad to worse. When it came to the 20th mile, my ankles were telling me they could no longer run. To me, speed walking was the new running, but I became worried that I might reach a time when I could no longer walk. That time did come at mile 22.

I thought to myself, "This isn't what was supposed to happen. It wasn't meant to be this way!" I trained, though improperly, hard the best I could to finish strong with a respectable time. But now I'm at the 22nd mile, well hydrated, full winded, yet unable move forward because of nearly unbearable pain in my ankles.

Walking was dreadfully painful, but there was 4 miles left, and as I stated in a previous post, I NEEDED TO finish.

Luckily, I found inspiration! The 20th mile is supposed to be "the wall" for all marathon runners. It is the time where you hit a place where it's suddenly harder than before to continue running. So because of this little tidbit, the people who put on the event posted inspirational quotes from (apparently) famous current and former marathon runners.

I found strength in the words, "Pain hurts, but eventually it doesn't hurt any worse!" This I learned was mostly true. Yes the pain didn't get worse, but no one wants to endure a very bad pain for a long period of time. But now there was only 3 miles left. I could endure...or so I thought.

It took one more piece of inspiration for me to realize I could fight the pain and run to the end. An older man was still running and eventually he made it to my side. He was slow, but he was steady. He had his own pace which he didn't divert from. I knew if this man could be running the entire time. I could finish the last few moments running through the pain.

Through the pain, I could see the finish line. About 50 feet away, I see my lovely lady run to me in her sweater and flip flops, grab my hand to hold me steady as my running/hobbling takes me across the finish line.

Yesterday I Google'd what to eat after a marathon, and I received a link from a "For Dummies" site. The first thing it said that people would want to do after a marathon is cry, throw up, lie on the ground and probably eat like crazy. When I crossed, I held on to my girlfriend so I wouldn't fall from the ankle pain and cried. A marathon is a crazy journey.

After taking a picture with my finisher's medal in front of the finish line, I left to the medical tent to check on the situation of my ankles. Here is where I learned my running technique was wrong, and the EMT could tell based on where the multiple blisters on my feet and after looking at my shoes. Apparently, the shoes matter more than I thought. But it didn't matter anymore. I was done. I finished.

A Scary Moment

I have been training for a marathon since this past summer. I've had the ambition, but not the proper training like I desired due to injuries and illness which slowed me. So far nothing I have encountered has made me think I will not be able to run the race.

Some people have told me I should flat out quit, because of an ailing ankle injury. Others believe my lack of intense training will be my downfall and thus I should not run it. I believe none of it. I will run and finish. Today was the first day I thought I would not finish.

While playing the sport I love above all others, basketball, I was introduced to the ground with unfortunate results. While handling the ball and driving towards the basket, I attempted a shot. I jumped in the air and quickly realized I would not make the basket and turned my shot into a pass. On my way down from the pass, my left foot, which has been held together by an ankle brace for the past few weeks, was stomped on by the defender guarding me. Like a boat anchored down, I could go no where; without choice, I went straight to the floor breaking my fall with my forearms.

In the moment, I was in a state of shock. My ankle was already in a place where it needed more care than usual, but now this was something else. My mind flashed to a moment where I was in high school where I was in a similar instance and the ankle pain was great and kept me out of other games. In this case, I went down and stayed down feeling pain. I admit fully I was scared. With the marathon I am running in less than seven days, I prayed I could be able to walk to the bench where there were chairs waiting for me.

I was able to finally get up, with the aid of the man who knocked me down, and hobble over to the sideline. Confidence built inside me for with every step, I could feel only minimal pain. There was soreness all over, but I could tell nothing serious. My heart was beating slower than before as I sat the remaining minutes of the game. Peace surrounded me, as I regained my confidence knowing I will run and finish the race.

So Close, Yet So Far

I will be running a marathon soon and if there is one thing I am sure about, its that I am not sure if I am ready yet.

I have been training as much as I can, whenever I can, wherever I can, but I have also bee side tracked every time. Sometimes it was illness, other times it was pure laziness. Then there was the distraction of friends, and the delay from weather. All in all, I am not where I thought I would be when I first started my training.

Recently while training, things took a turn for the worst. My previous longest run was a mere 12 miles, and I knew I needed to get in anything 16+ to at least run a half marathon. I planned on surprising my girlfriend by running to the city where she worked which is about 17 miles away from my apartment. Around 7 or 8 miles into it, I stopped for a bathroom break and came back running until I noticed I was in extreme pain. Something aggravated my ankle beyond a simple tweak. I don't know what happened, but I knew I had to turn back. In pain, I started a long walk home, with a big limp and an even bigger concern.

Hours later, I made it home. I stopped at a store to drink Gatorade, knowing it would hydrate me in the high 70 degree weather I was running in. I plunged my foot into a steaming tub of water and prayed that nothing was wrong.

As I sat thinking about my ankle and the marathon that is not far away, I remembered singing to myself one of the first times I was running in the country area of my parents home. During that particular run, I tweaked my same ankle in the first mile, but still ended up running the next nine at a decent pace I was happy about. I remember at one point I was actually getting tired of the music I had been listening to, and started making up my own words to songs.
     One line was: "I've been to the top once, well almost, but it was that almost I hated. I won't let an almost happen again"

Although I don't remember the song I was singing it to, I remembered what I was referring to. I once went on a hike up half dome. Due to illness and injury I didn't make it all the way to the top. But I was so close, too close I think. I should have put the rest of my energy into making it to the top. I didn't. And I regret it so much! I could have push through the pain, I could have endured the sickness, I could have been on top of a mountain people see in pictures around the world. Instead, I lied on the ground saying to myself I'd go again sometime. Unfortunately, that time has yet to come. Its been 2 years and I think about the event too often.

I decided because of this event, I am not going to allow myself to not finish. To come so close and walk away with nothing, its a terrible feeling which I never want to feel again. Never again.

Now when I train, I have a new goal. Despite an injured ankle, despite people who say I wont be able to handle it, despite my lack of complete training. I wont come up empty and be so close, yet so far. I will cross the finish line.

Feeling 22

It seems like there are certain ages that are more "fun" than other ages.
    10: You finally hit the double digits!
    15/16: Depending on if you're following a Latino or American culture...but they are essentially the same thing and only for girls :(
    21: Legally able to drink.
    24: Legally can rent a car. (in some states)
    30: The day you realize you're no longer "young."
    40: The day you realize...you're "old."
    50: You're finally lives a half a century.
    100: Still alive!? You're Awesome!!

Today is my birthday and I am turning 22. Technically I won't officially be 22 until 10 something this evening, but as you may notice 22 isn't one of the most fun ages to turn in this culture. Although, Taylor Swift's song may add some hype to this year of life, its not quite a major hit.

One of the things I'd like to do this year is to not live it as if it is a "normal" fill in year. I want to do things which I have never done before. I want 22 to be the best year of my life yet! I have the feeling that it has the potential to be.

During this age I will be experiencing some major changes.
    Graduating from my 4-year university
    Purchasing my first car (technically this happened 4 days before my birthday, but I didn't have the official car title in my name till after my birthday)
    Landing my first Full Time Job
    Living fully on my own
    Starting the rest of my life!
These are all major changes indeed!

No matter what happens, these 365 days of being 22 will be some of the biggest days of my young life. Now, I just need to live everyday just the way I want it too and everything will fall into place.

Putting the Pieces Together

Recently I was putting a puzzle together. It was a gift, and one worth the assembly required.

I started off truly enjoying putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. With my french press steeping coffee in front of me I braced myself for the journey I was entering. Although it was only 252 pieces, I spent about 3 (distracted and inconsistent) hours on this puzzle. The first 2 hours were quite fun! I sat at the table with my roommate, helping him find school supplies online and matching all the easy pieces together. It seemed to be going rather quickly, even faster than the coffee I was drinking.

The last hour wasn't quite as fun as before.The puzzle became harder, and harder and even though I had the picture right in front of me of what the puzzle was, I still couldn't seem to put everything together. I started putting pieces in the wrong places thinking they were fitting, until later when I found another piece that fit "better" because it actually belonged. And this started to make me think.

Now, I apologized for being mostly cliche' here, but this is really what my mind was going through. I am at a point in my life where, I am supposed to find a job, a living place and a life that is supposed to "fit" me. Problem is: There are so many things that fit well, but not perfectly. This job is not my dream job, but it pays well, or I have a good living area, but its not where I want to be. This puzzle is not a clear picture, yet. But sometimes the piece works, for a time. I can make it fit to help me see the bigger picture, until the perfect piece comes around and shows me the complete picture.

The puzzle of my life is one which I will forever be putting together, as every puzzle seems like at some point,  but sometimes we need to sit down and sort through all of it and try out a piece out until the right part comes along and turns the puzzle a clear picture.

My Final Homestand

It wasn't till late today that I realized this would be one of the last times I would stay at home for such an extended time. Today is the second to last night that I'll be spending with my family for my final winter break. Ill be graduating come May and plan on moving into my own apt down south and not rejoining my family's home.

While I silently say a small goodbye to this house, I am filled with memories from almost everything  I see around the house.
     The small gate in between my living room and kitchen has been there as long as we've had our small Yorkshire Terriers. But my most fondest memory is is when Babie, the second dog which was considered mine, was still a lil pup. She was so small, she actually fit in between the wholes in the fence. For some time we couldn't figure out how she was getting past the fence she finally did it in front of us.
     I remember my sister as a teen living in the room across from the room my brother and I would share. She was always the leader and the cool one out of the three of us. I remember saying I wanted to marry her because she was so pretty! My brother would remind me what wanted would never come true. I only have good memories of my siblings when we were young.
     There used to be a gym placed outside where my brother and father would regularly workout. The cover over it was slabs of weak wood which would always manage to stay up through the rain and winds. By the time I was old enough to actually use the gym, most of it had worn itself out from the weather and it was time to give it away.

My house is not the same as when I first was carried into it nearly 22 years ago. Its been remodeled, reroofed, repainted and even added to. The house has grown and change almost as much as I have. It truly may deserve a grand goodbye for giving me so many memories for so long. Instead, my fair well will instead be nothing notable. I'll walk into my parents truck and drive away looking back with simple gratitude for what it has given me.