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New Day

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Good Morning!

I am running a little late this morning. My thoughts are a tad bit scattered. There is so much zipping around in my brain that it is taking a good amount of effort to get going today.

I have job interview today at 2 p.m. It is making me jumpy and of course, anxious. I need to get this job. The company I am interviewing with is a work from home company. Which I’ve attempted in the past. I wasn’t very successful with it. My anxiety crashed in all around me and I quit the job after the training period was over.

But, I need to work somewhere. Going out and physically working, is just not a real option for me. I worked the seasonal job and it just about killed me. I barely made it through. The more I worked the job, the more symptoms that I experienced. Every day I worked at the warehouse, the sicker I became. It would take me four days of rest and being home bound so that I could scrape through three days of work. The more I am outside of my home, the worse my physical condition gets. Everything makes me sick. I feel so trapped.

I can’t think about this now. I have to stay focused on coming up with a solution that allows me to work from home. I am brainstorming an online store and hoping it will be success this time. I am also hoping to get this customer service job. As much as I despise customer service work, I have no other choice at the moment.

Have a good day. I’ll be back tomorrow. Hopefully with good news.
Be brave.
Jamie Christine

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Tired Tuesday

It is 2:58 a.m.
I have been up since 6:30 a.m. Monday morning.
I am still awake. I am tired but can not seem to climb into bed and go to sleep. I wonder why?

I have always had strange sleeping habits. My parents would often tell stories about me, at 2 years old, waking up in the middle of the night and going outside to play. I had the terrible habit of getting sleepy then falling asleep under the cars in our neighborhood. My mother told me that she had locks on the top of the door. I would stack chairs and such to climb up to the top of the door and unlock it. Fleeing to the great outdoors in the middle of the night.

My parents warned all the neighbors about me because one crisp morning, a neighbor almost ran me over if it was not for a tiny piece of my Dad’s stark white t-shirt that caught his eye. I wore my Dad’s t-shirts to bed. He brought me home and woke my parents with his knocking. The neighbor found me, sound asleep, near the front tire, oblivious to the danger around me.

After my parents managed to fasten a lock that I could not open, my mother told me that I would wander the house at night. She told me that because I was in my Dad’s white t-shirts that she would often see me flutter through the house. More than once she thought I was a ghost. Ghost girl in the white Fruit of the Looms. She said I was one of those creepy kids who stared at you till you woke up. I was always scaring the crap out of her.

My father worked over nights. He once told me that my mother would spend all day cleaning the house and I would terrorize it in the middle of the night. He would come home at 6 or 7 a.m. to find the house turned upside down by the little ghost girl. His favorite recollection was the morning he came home to find that I had discovered the 8 mm home movies and strung them around the living room like party streamers. He often cleaned up the house before my mother ever woke up so she would not be upset.

They bravely fought the midnight battle with me until the morning they woke up and I was not home. They searched all the normal places I would be sleeping. I was no where insight. A neighborhood search ensued till someone found me and another little boy. I have no idea where I found him. We were walking in our diapers and me in my white t-shirt along the side of major road. My mother asked me where I was going. I replied, “Dairy Queen.” It was at this point they started locking me in my bedroom at night.

It is safe to say that I have always loved the night. I work best in the early morning. When I was working the newspaper route, I loved being outside during the night. I was thrilled to see the nocturnal animals roaming about town. I always gazed at the stars. I soak in the coolness of the morning. The silence of the city has always been music to my ears. I always hear the moon call my name. Being awake while everyone else is sleeping is the best time to be playing in the night.

I am a long way from 2 years old but I still find the best time to go to bed is just after sunrise and a delicious breakfast. The moon and stars still catch my dreams. The magic night still calls to me.

I often feel like I am locked in a room. I despise the feeling of being forced to do something I don’t want to do or being confined. I will rail against being “trapped”. I have never reacted positively to locked doors. To people who tell me I can’t. To places I can’t go. Makes me wonder, how much do we really change as we age?

Be brave.
Jamie Christine

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The Red Roan

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This weekend, I was looking through my collections of photographs, when I came across this shot of The Red Roan standing tall as the river flowed against him. I paused and stared because I just love this photo and this horse. He exudes strength and power. When you witness him standing in the river like this, there is a sense that he owns the Salt River. Yet, I’ve never seen him behave in a vicious manner. I have never had the privilege of watching him defend his place along the Salt River but he bares a few scratches and scars that attest to the fact that he is not one to be trifled with on his own grounds. He is definitely a stallion who calls the shots in his world. His presence is so impressive that catching a glimpse of him takes your breath away.

On this particular morning, when he glanced my way and paused while I took as many shots as I could in the moment, I was stunned. I still recall the feeling when he looked directly at me. Some may think that I felt wonder or amazement but the strongest emotion that arises from the encounter is gratitude. This beauty did not have to stop and acknowledge my presence with a glance. His is, clearly, the master of his domain. Yet, he did. I am grateful that he glanced my way because The Red Roan is the manifestation of what it means to be wild, free and in full control of ones destiny.

I am also jealous of him.
Be brave.
Jamie Christine