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| i know i said i was done with xanga..now i'm just using it for my own selfish purposes..
i need help
i have books to sell and i really just don't want to keep them around here and move them to from oklahoma, to arkansas, to denver...quite a hassel.
does anybody know of a place in the city (oklahoma city preferably :) ) where they will sell your stuff on ebay for you? (or something like this)
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this short lived relationship is definately over...it was good while it lasted. it's not you xanga...it's me.
i'm sure there aren't many people out there interested, but if by some infinitesimal chance there is one...you can find me at
www.thenewsearchengine.blogspot.com
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i just might be "xanga-ed" out...and i'm not even one of the old-timers...
oh well...we will just have to see where this is all headed | | |
| (this post is primarily due to insomnia; secondly, out of a need to reassure myself in recent frustrations with insignificance and current purposelessness)
Mr. Degrote. What a man he was. He was odd and endearing. He typically wore a tightly fitted white short-sleeved button up dress shirt, which always had a pen in the front pocket. I also recall him as having terrible dandruff, but I’m not sure how I noticed it because dandruff is hard to detect on a white shirt. Mr. Degrote was my 7th grade computer teacher, we actually did not learn a thing about computers, just the key board; we learned how to type in his class. He was one of those teachers that you would make fun of with the other students and occasionally role your eyes at when he turned his back (especially if one of your ‘peers’ were watching) but you secretly enjoyed him and actually looked forward to his class, but everybody knows that P.E. and study hall were so much cooler. The room was long and narrow, each side lined with 15 gargantuan computers, with 32 inch solid black screens. I sat next to Jon Cerf on the side with no windows, but I still, secretly, loved his class.
Mr. Degrote started every period with prayer request, but before voicing our requests, he let us know that he would already be praying for our families, anyone that was sick, our pets, our churches, our school, our state, any current issues in the news, our country, our government, and everyone else/thing/place in the world, therefore limiting any possible request that a 7th grader could conjure up. Then, after giving us fair chance to think of any request that could be brought before God in prayer that he was not already planning on voicing, he would reach over and press ‘play’ on a small black tape recorder. He taped his first period class (which included his prayer, looking back I’m not sure how sincere or effective recorded prayer is) and subsequently played the tape in every other period. I was in his 6th period class.
After the recorded prayer, he (and by he, I actually mean the tape) would give us instructions. We were to put our hands under the white piece of paper and type the letters he stated. “A space A space A-A space A space A-A space.” Eventually, after making it through the entire alphabet, we would use both capital and small letters, “big A space big J space little k space big C space”. It was a long and tedious process, over time I was able to put these small letters together into words, then forming sentences, utilizing punctuation and even tossing in the occasional SHIFT button for something other than capitalization. Eventually I typed an application for college, then a resume for a job, and care plans for patients which I’m sure have saved a few lives. My life radically and eternally impacted by one man. He may have felt insignificant some days, possibly wanting to not show, or do something more glamorous, more lucrative. He probably had days of not seeing the purpose in it all and days of frustration and days when he may have wanted to just quit and go work at the Starbucks across the street.
But he was there, everyday. Recording first period and then available to press play for the rest of us. Changing lives.
Be someone’s Mr. Degrote…just don’t record your prayers | | |
| you've been cut off from an entire country...that's so christian of you
yes it's pat robertson again
i like this from brett hutson:
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