<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:06:08.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>everything is everything</title><subtitle type='html'>What is meant to be will be</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115570639278308916</id><published>2006-08-15T23:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T00:33:12.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>back where i begain</title><content type='html'>I just got back from watching the movie about the world trade center. Talk about raising a lot of questions in my head. The whole time i was sitting there, i couldn’t help but think about..well everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before i can further explain myself i need to explain the premise of the movie (I think this is OK even if you haven’t seen it..i mean i think we all know how it ends) anyway...the short version… So you don't get bored and stop reading.. (there is good stuff to come) These cops go in the building to rescue people. One of the cops in Nicolas Cage, he supposed to be "the best". They get trapped in the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I watched these men lay there trapped in complete misery, i kept thinking about the irony of their situation. I mean these men risked their lives to go into this building to "save all these people" but really it ended up they were the ones who needed to be saved. It was like they trained their whole lives to be great in a situation like this, and it ended up that their training was useless because they were trapped under concrete. They went in to rescue people and they ended up in the same predicament as the people they were trying to rescue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept thinking about this and comparing it to my own life. I guess i feel like i've spent all this time "training to save lives" and i ended up trapped waiting for someone to rescue me. Do you get what i'm saying? Being a Bible college graduate, i feel like i should be this awesome minister and awesome woman of God..but the truth is...sometimes i feel just as lost and hopeless as the people i'm supposed to be saving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like ever since my Junior year of college, I’ve grown to hate everything about Christian Culture. I felt and still feel most of the time that Christians are just a joke (including myself). I hated what i had become, I felt fake. I felt like Bible college had taught me how to be a Christian. &lt;strong&gt;I knew&lt;/strong&gt; what i was supposed to look like as a "good Christian." &lt;strong&gt;I knew&lt;/strong&gt; how to make my self sound "super spiritual" in my prayers. &lt;strong&gt;I knew&lt;/strong&gt; how to "worship". At first my walk, it was genuine, but it grew into &lt;em&gt;façade.&lt;/em&gt; My walk with God became a show almost. So i decided one day, i wasn't going to do anything unless it was for the genuine purpose of honoring God alone. The sad part is, my walk with God ceased. I couldn't sing a worship song for almost 2 years. I couldn’t pray..i hated when i HAD to pray in public for something, I hated it because i knew my walk with God had ceased, but i still knew how to pray (say the right things) and fool people to think otherwise. I can't say that I’m threw this yet, i'm up to a few worship songs i can sing and be genuine about. I now know the kind of Christian i don't want to be, now it's figuring out what kind i do want to be and how to be that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But the point I’m making is, no matter how many times i try to push away from God and push away from other Christians they are always there nagging at me to come home. As much as i despise Christian culture sometimes, it seems as though i will never escape it. I can say with complete sincerity, I'm glad nothing can separate us from the love of God. I’m glad that even in all my wondering and roaming. My heart is forever attached to God and his grace. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a Caedmon's Call song that i think expains my feeling better. Here it is. It's on the 40 acres album, i think it is #5:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass looked greener on the other side&lt;br /&gt;So I tried to, snatch myself from your hand&lt;br /&gt;Caught a boat to anywhere but Nineveh&lt;br /&gt;And, well you know, I got spit back on dry land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verse 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Give me purity and give me continence&lt;/strong&gt;        &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(i love this line..isn't this the way it always is? )&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But oh no, not yet. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a coin hiding in the corner Trying not to be swept&lt;br /&gt;And I was trying not to be swept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kicking against these goads Sure did cut up my feet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And didn't your hands get bloody&lt;br /&gt;As you washed them clean (you washed them!),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chorus: Here I am again, back where I began &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Try as I may I can't get away from you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt; And all of these roads lead me to roam, Bring me back home.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Here I am again, back where I began. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verse 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So you have yourself your ninety nine (ninety nine), &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Isn't that enough for you? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still you followed me to the shadowed valley&lt;br /&gt;Carried me on your shoulders too.&lt;br /&gt;I've done the work of Sisyphus&lt;br /&gt;Thinking that I could get over this hill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But the one thing I can't get over now...(is the) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is the force of your will.  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115570639278308916?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115570639278308916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115570639278308916' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115570639278308916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115570639278308916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/08/back-where-i-begain.html' title='back where i begain'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115400638392510718</id><published>2006-07-27T08:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T08:20:40.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>more taiwan pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan2%20085.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan2%20085.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/meandem.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/meandem.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan%20245.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan%20245.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan%20182.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan%20182.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/meandkids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/meandkids.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115400638392510718?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115400638392510718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115400638392510718' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115400638392510718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115400638392510718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/07/more-taiwan-pics.html' title='more taiwan pics'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115370992825044841</id><published>2006-07-23T21:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T22:01:44.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun times in Taiwan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan%20279.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan%20279.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the beach we went to in Kenting..it's on the very&lt;br /&gt;tip of the island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan%20271.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan%20271.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my Nephew Cayden..Isn't he the cutest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/taiwan%20139.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/taiwan%20139.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and of course the little diva herself Emilee&lt;br /&gt;i'll be posting more pic's later&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115370992825044841?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115370992825044841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115370992825044841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115370992825044841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115370992825044841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/07/fun-times-in-taiwan.html' title='Fun times in Taiwan'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115278452711285922</id><published>2006-07-13T04:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T07:02:48.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Airline safety?</title><content type='html'>For those of you who don't know, I'm in Taiwan right now visiting my brother, molly and the babies. Anyway there will be more to come on that later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I seriously questioned the safety of the airport. I'll tell you why. My best bud Samantha sent some chewy chocolate chip cookies with me on my trip. I was pumped about them. I was saving them for my long flight so I wouldn't have to eat the nasty airplane food. Well when I was getting on the plane to go to L.A. I was told I had to consolidate my carry-on's to two bags. I was in a hurry, because everyone was watching me jump on my bag trying to get it all to fit and I felt real stupid. Well apparently the cookies fell out of my bag because when I got on the plane the fight attendant came over the intercom saying that they found a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies in the waiting area. Because of my recent humiliation with a jumping my on the suit case I refused to draw any more attention to myself, so I didn't claim the cookies. Well for the next 5 minutes the flight attendant continued to ask whose they were. Everyone on the plane was making jokes and pretending they were their cookies. As my embarrassment greatly increased, I could feel my face getting really red. I was just waiting for someone to say, "I think they belong to the girl in the bright green shirt." luckily they finally, they dropped it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well just as we were about to land I see the flight attendant walking down the aisle toward me with the cookies and a stack of napkins. And what was she doing? She was handing the cookies out to all the kids on the plane. I couldn't believe it. Yeah I was mad because they were mine, but I was more shocked because the flight attendant just handed out cookies, which they knew nothing about to a bunch of kids. Not only that, but they brought these cookies onto the plane in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that against airport policy? How is someone going to bring an unattended box of cookies onto the plane and then hand them out to children? The whole time I was at the airport all I heard over the intercom was, "don't leave you luggage un-attendant..It will be confiscated for your safety." What if these cookies were a bomb or what if they were poisened? I just coudn't beleive they would do such a thing. Anyway...Sam..if you're reading, thanks for the cookies, all the other kids on the plane enjoyed them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115278452711285922?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115278452711285922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115278452711285922' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115278452711285922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115278452711285922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/07/airline-safety.html' title='Airline safety?'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115220740954131704</id><published>2006-07-06T12:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T12:36:49.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to misery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00050.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00050.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00077.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00072.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had such a blast in Miami. I didn't want to leave. We didn't want to leave so bad that we missed our flight on purpose just so we could go out one more night. I don't know how people can live near a beach. I would never want to go to work. I would just want to lay around in the sun all the time and hit the clubs at night. The people there are so nice. I came to the conclusion that it would be hard to be rude and hateful if you lived by the beach. Whenever your stressed all you have to do is sit by the ocean, and your immediately calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and amber had such a blast, I'm definitely going back. I'm putting some pictures on here for you guys. I hope you all get jealous...Just kidding..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115220740954131704?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115220740954131704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115220740954131704' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115220740954131704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115220740954131704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/07/back-to-misery_06.html' title='Back to misery'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115155750007386308</id><published>2006-06-28T23:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T00:05:00.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why..Why...Why</title><content type='html'>What is so difficult about the statement...Thin it up a little and trim it? Why is it that whenever I go to get my hair cut and I say I just want a trim, and I need the back thinned a little, they always mess it up? A trim is a trim, A trim does not mean to cut three or four inches off my head. How does "so you want to keep the length and just trim it up?" turn into me with insanely short ugly hair....grrr. What is wrong with these hair dressers? I shouldn't generalize all of them, but it always seems that my hair gets cut shorter than I asked for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Anyway...Tomorrow I'm going to MIAMI!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and my friend Amber are heading to miami. Our plan leaves at 7:20am. I'm so pumped. It makes my bad hair cut not seem as bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be putting pictures of our trip on here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115155750007386308?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115155750007386308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115155750007386308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115155750007386308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115155750007386308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/06/whywhywhy.html' title='Why..Why...Why'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115110933929718265</id><published>2006-06-23T19:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T23:00:05.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my apartment</title><content type='html'>I got a new camera yesterday so i decided to take pictures of my apartment in Rolla and put them on here. So guys here's where I live, well until July 1st, then i'm off to Cincinnati!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00011.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00011.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bathroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00010.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00010.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00012.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00012.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00012.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My way cool bathmat...i heart it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00011.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00007.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00007.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Bedroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My living room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/DSC00009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/DSC00009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My living room/dining room. I usually eat on&lt;br /&gt;the floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115110933929718265?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115110933929718265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115110933929718265' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115110933929718265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115110933929718265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/06/my-apartment.html' title='my apartment'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-115051672659327520</id><published>2006-06-16T22:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T22:58:46.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Cincinnati</title><content type='html'>I'm writing this from a hotel in downtown Cincinnati. I came here this weekend so I could start looking for apartments and getting to know the area. Can I just say that I love it here!! I'm having trouble getting myself motivated to drive back to Missouri tomorrow. My apartment search is going OK. I have found two that I like and one that I love. I'm waiting to here from the one I Love still.&lt;br /&gt;-My first night here I pulled up to the hotel and this really nice (and cute)valet guy came out to my car. He asked what I was doing here and I told him I was moving here and going to school at CCU. It turned out that he was a Christian and he gave me a number and a name of the church he goes to here. It was so cool, the first person I met in Cincinnati was a Christian.&lt;br /&gt;-Tonight I went to a Reds game. When I went to get my ticket I started talking to the girl at the ticket booth. It turned out that she too was a Christian and she is studying Christian counseling. So she gave me her number and told me to call her sometime and we could hang out.&lt;br /&gt;All the people I am meeting here are super nice. I really love it here. I feel very safe everywhere I go. Tonight after the game I walked around downtown by myself and it was totally fine. I love the down town here, it's certainty not Chicago, but it will do. Granted the school and the apartments I looked at are in the ghetto, but I love the ghetto so it's fine. I'm super excited about moving here, I think it's going to be really cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-115051672659327520?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/115051672659327520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=115051672659327520' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115051672659327520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/115051672659327520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-love-cincinnati.html' title='I love Cincinnati'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114999447891509545</id><published>2006-06-10T20:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T21:54:40.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There is still hope!!</title><content type='html'>Another Saturday night alone. As I sit here and listen to sappy love songs I can't help to feel that there is still hope for me. I think this is the first time in a long time that I can sit and listen to these songs and not have anyone in mind. There are absolutely no current prospects nor is there anyone in my past that I’m still hoping for a future with. Normally this would bother me, but today this excites me. It kind of feels good not being in agony over whether a boy likes me, or whether I should even like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure it is sad that I'm alone. But as I look back over the years of singleness I don't have an ounce of regret. It's like that Caedmon's call song when he says "Could I have missed my only chance and now I'm just wasting my time, looking around. "I can say with full confidence that I haven't missed my only chance, and my time looking around is not in vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i look back at the boys I’ve have come in contact with, I can't think of one that I blew my chance with. There has yet to be a boy that has really swept me off my feet and convinced me that he is the one for me. I can say with full confidence that i have yet to meet the man  i am to be with. I think it is better to be single with no regret and hope for endless possibilities in the future, than single full of regret and only looking at the past, hoping for something that probably will never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is there to be sad about. It's not like i met my soul mate and he rejected me. I can't be sad. It's not my fault I’m single. It's no one's fault, i just haven't met the right one yet. Why have I spent so many years beating myself up about my singleness? If anything is to blame for my singleness, it is the life I’ve lived so far. The path that I have chosen has not lead me to the man of my dreams yet. I don’t regret the life I've lived so far. I’ve had adventure, I've met amazing people, I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve had experiences that I wouldn’t trade for anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I’ve learned about my self tonight is that it’s not about how pretty I am or how skinny I am. It so easy to blame my singleness on that because that is something I can control (well to an extent). I can't blame my personality. I can't blame the 6th grade girl mentality I develop when I talk to boys. If there is anything to blame it’s just the point I am at in my life. It’s just not time for there to be a boy in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah it kind of sucks, but it is kind of exciting. I have so much life ahead of me, so many boys to meet. I'm so glad that i didn't settle for one yet. So yeah being single sucks and If i had a choice i wouldn't be single another day. But it feels good knowing that maybe, just maybe, there is still that perfect boy out there for me and if not, it feels good not have any regret about the life i have lived so far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114999447891509545?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114999447891509545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114999447891509545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114999447891509545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114999447891509545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/06/there-is-still-hope.html' title='There is still hope!!'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114989147750560682</id><published>2006-06-09T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T17:17:57.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Firsts</title><content type='html'>The past two weeks I experienced a lot of firsts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I got called a bitch&lt;br /&gt;-I got punched in the face on purpose&lt;br /&gt;-got spit on ( by a kid I didn't even know)&lt;br /&gt;-chased a kid threw the woods&lt;br /&gt;-kids told me they hated me and wanted me to die&lt;br /&gt;-I lost my cool with the kids&lt;br /&gt;-I cussed at the kids&lt;br /&gt;-I was sacastic and mean to the kids&lt;br /&gt;- I thought about walking out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can tell the past to weeks have been Hell. My partners were out of town for the past two weeks. As you can see my kids didn't handle the change to well and neither did I. I'm not usually the one that has to run things. I feel like I failed my kids these past two weeks. I am supposed to be a positive example for my kids, and I wasn't. I think these past two weeks have convinced me further that being a house parent is just not my thing. Maybe when I'm older and have more life experience I will be better at this. Right now I've decided to go get my masters in counseling. So in August I'm heading to Cincinnati Christian university. I'm just going to go for it. I may not be smart enough and I may not have any previous education in counseling, but God's power is perfected in weakness, right? My last day of work is July 5th. Then I'll hopefully be moving to Cincinnati. On July 11th I'm heading to Taiwan to see my brother, Molly, and the babies. I can hardly wait to see them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114989147750560682?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114989147750560682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114989147750560682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114989147750560682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114989147750560682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/06/firsts.html' title='Firsts'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114623813669514463</id><published>2006-04-28T10:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T10:27:33.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Samantha's wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-20-5A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-20-5A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-16-9A.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-16-9A.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-13-12A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-13-12A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-11-14A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-11-14A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-12-13A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-12-13A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/807668-R1-26-00A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/807668-R1-26-00A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114623813669514463?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114623813669514463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114623813669514463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114623813669514463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114623813669514463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/04/samanthas-wedding.html' title='Samantha&apos;s wedding'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114608958973481690</id><published>2006-04-26T16:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T17:13:09.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>should i stay or should i go?</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I posted..I thought about giving an update by I'm sorry to say not much has happened in the last few weeks..So here's all I got.&lt;br /&gt;-April 14th was my birthday..So I'm 23 years old now. That seems crazy to me, I can hardly believe it. Some friends from work to me to St. Louis to celebrate. Man was it fun!!!&lt;br /&gt;-A while back I wrote about how frustrated I was with my life and how I just needed to change. Well I applied to grad school at Cincinnati Christian university. I got a letter today telling me that I got in. I can hardly believe it, I defiantly didn't think I was smart enough to get in. I'm wanting to go to grad school because I want to be a counselor for the type of kids I work with. I really think I want to do this, but it just seems like such a huge step. There are so many things to think about now. Like do I really want to go to grad school or do I just want to get out of Rolla? How will I pay for this? Will I even be smart enough to make it through the program? What if I get there and I'm like dumbest person there and I get kicked out or something? I don't know..I just have a lot of questions. I think I'll peruse this and see how it all works out. I figure if my path doesn't get too frustrated then I'll just go ahead and go and see what happens. What do you guys think? &lt;strong&gt;Should I stay or should I go now?&lt;/strong&gt; (you know..That song) "If I stay there will be trouble...If I go there will be double. " Never mind. Well that is where my life is at right now..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114608958973481690?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114608958973481690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114608958973481690' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114608958973481690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114608958973481690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/04/should-i-stay-or-should-i-go.html' title='should i stay or should i go?'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114489383753556458</id><published>2006-04-12T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T13:08:23.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>21 questions</title><content type='html'>i guess since i can't be creative i'm going to steal ideas from other people's blogs. This one is from brittany morris' blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you name 21 people you can think of right off the top of your head? Dont read the questions underneath until you write the names of all 21 people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Samantha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;andrew&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sammie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tabitha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;brittany&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;kyle&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cooper&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;caleb&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;loretta&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;john Mitchell&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;shawna&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;gil&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;erin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;angie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;chivonne&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;kelvin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;charles&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;frank&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;kim&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Keith&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;jon B&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now answer the questions according to the names listed above:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How did you meet 10?At the babysitters when i was in grade school. He used to make fun of me. But i actually didn't know him until jr.high..he had a crush on me..he he.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What would you do if you had never met 6? College wouldn't have been fun. I would have never seen a grown boy pee his pants. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What would you do if 20 and 15 dated? UM...well that would be weird...i don't think i want to think about that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Have you ever seen 4 cry? Yeah..but not very often.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would number 1 and 2 make a good couple? Yeah..i think they are a good couple..not to mention they are getting married next week.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Describe 8: An all around hottie. Extreamly fun, cute, married (bummer :-) ), very take charge, a great singer, a great leader, a great man of God, one the the greatest people i know.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do you think 21 is attractive: sure..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tell me something about number 17: An Extreamly gorguous black guy that i work with, who makes my stomach do a flip when he looks at me or says hi. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's 7's favorite color? I have no idea...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who is 2 going out with? number one..they're getting married&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What grade is 16 in? no grade..he's my supervisor at work.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is 5's favorite music? country and anything she can shake her booty too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would you ever date 7? NOPE.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would you ever date 1? If she was a guy..yeah..i think i'd give her a chance. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is 11 single? Nope, she's getting married to #10 real soon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would you ever want to be in a serious relationship with 3? I think our realtionship is serious...she is probably one of the best friends i have. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where does 18 live? Well i was thinking of 2 franks one lives in moberly and one lives in rolla i think.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What do you think about 20? I think he is amazing..He's taught me a lot and been a big part of my life. He is the most caring and understaning men i know. He's someone i think really has living a life of ministry figured out. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is the best thing about 4? She always makes me giggle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What would you like to tell 14 right now? She's is one hot mamma..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How did you meet 9? I used to live across the street from her when i was little. I think i met her then but i really got to know her when i was attending madison park christian church. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is the best and worst thing about 2? he's insanly fun to be around...he picked my roommate instead of me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Are you going to know 15 forever? I think so..i work with her and she's one of my only friends here in rolla.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who is 10 going out with? Shawna Nobis..almost Mitchell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114489383753556458?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114489383753556458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114489383753556458' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114489383753556458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114489383753556458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/04/21-questions.html' title='21 questions'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114435145686899156</id><published>2006-04-06T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T14:25:59.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>I was reading the blog of my good buddy Erin Schaffer and I decided that since I'm insanely bored I would be tagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four jobs I've had:&lt;br /&gt;-Lawn mower&lt;br /&gt;-Dairy Queen employee&lt;br /&gt;-Bank teller&lt;br /&gt;-Child care worker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I've lived:&lt;br /&gt;-Quincy, IL&lt;br /&gt;-Indianapolis, IN&lt;br /&gt;-Kansas City&lt;br /&gt;-Rolla, MO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four TV shows I love:&lt;br /&gt;-Friends&lt;br /&gt;-CSI (the original one)&lt;br /&gt;-martha Stewart's apprentice (The secret is out...I'm so sad they cancelled it)&lt;br /&gt;-Trading spaces&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I've vacationed:&lt;br /&gt;-St. Augustine, FL&lt;br /&gt;-Taiwan (it was a mission trip...But I'll count it)&lt;br /&gt;-South Dakota (The rents made me go)&lt;br /&gt;-Maine (also a mission trip but I'll count it as well)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four of my favorite dishes:&lt;br /&gt;-Little Ceaser's hot and ready $5 large cheese pizza&lt;br /&gt;-General Taos Chicken ( don't know how to spell that )&lt;br /&gt;-bourbon street steak from Applebees&lt;br /&gt;-Bacon cheese burger and fries from this place called marge's cafe in St. James,MO&lt;br /&gt;       As you can see..i never cook&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;Four places I'd rather be right now:&lt;br /&gt;-one the beach&lt;br /&gt;-walking the street's of New York city&lt;br /&gt;-On a cruise&lt;br /&gt;-Taiwan visiting my brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four sites I've visited today&lt;br /&gt;-Bank of America&lt;br /&gt;-CCCB.edu&lt;br /&gt;-hotmail.com&lt;br /&gt;-Erin's blog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People I'm tagging:&lt;br /&gt;any one who is insanely bored and wants to&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114435145686899156?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114435145686899156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114435145686899156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114435145686899156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114435145686899156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/04/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114378056545546268</id><published>2006-03-30T22:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T22:49:25.500-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>You never realize how much stuff you have until you start putting it in Boxes. I can't bare to give any of it away, even though I forget I have it most of the time. The hardest thing for me to give up is my T-shirts. I must own like 300 and I think I wear like 50 of them on a regular basis. Today I bought more. What is wrong with me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I updated my quote site. So if any of you are into quotes, you can check them out. This post is quotes about happiness. There's some good stuff..So check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Elizabethtown soundtrack rocks my world..check it out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114378056545546268?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114378056545546268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114378056545546268' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114378056545546268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114378056545546268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/03/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114347580616426539</id><published>2006-03-27T09:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T10:10:07.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What a great job</title><content type='html'>I have a hard time calling what I do work or referring to it as my job. Yesterday my cottage got free tickets to an indoor football game in St. Louis at the Savvis Center. So I spent the whole day watching football and I got paid to do it. The kids were so good, so my job was really easy yesterday...It was great.&lt;br /&gt;This is random but I decided I think that semi's should have their own highways. I don't think they should be allowed to drive where there are cars. All they do is cause trouble for everyone. They are like big bullies and they scare people. In my line of work we don't' tolerate bullies. No one deserves to be bullied. They slow up traffic, they blow your car around when they pass you, and they are too big for the roads. This might seem heartless but a small part of me is happy when I see a semi in a ditch. When I drive by I just want to yell "What's good?" and then sing...Another one bites the dust. After I know the driver is ok of course.&lt;br /&gt;Another random thought. I'm currently watching to today show and there is this guy on here who keeps using the word sexy to describe food. I think he's used the word sexy like 15 times in the last 2 minutes. Last time I checked food wasn't sexy, It's anything but sexy. Not to mention is doesn't make people sexy, it makes them fat. This guys sex drive is obviously in high gear. When food starts turning you on and you think it's sexy, you know you have a problems.&lt;br /&gt;that is all friends..Have a delightful day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114347580616426539?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114347580616426539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114347580616426539' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114347580616426539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114347580616426539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-great-job.html' title='What a great job'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114288308064953780</id><published>2006-03-20T13:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T13:31:20.706-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing new</title><content type='html'>I don't really have anything new and excited to talk about nor do I have any fun stories. But I figured I need to post since it's been a while and I know all my readers are waiting on the edge of their seats to see the words I will type next. I will warn you that my words will be random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First..I'm moving to a new apartment which is exciting..But it's still in Rolla, so that makes it less exciting. I have to move because my roommate is getting married in April and her husband will be moving in, so that means I have to move out, I know it seems crazy, but that's what they wanted to do. I wanted to work at boys and girls town until at least august, so I would have a year's experience under my belt (thought it would look better on a resume). I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life, so I'm hanging out in Rolla until I figure something out. I just hope this whole me finding an apartment here, doesn't mean I'll be stuck here forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently watching Center Stage, I absolutely love this movie. I never get tired of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no prospect of a husband anywhere. Actually a few guys at work are interested in me..Great uh? Not really, considering the fact that they are either 50, married, divorced, or just not cute at all. I think that about covers it. It seems as though I'm attracting the wrong age bracket. I mean, the old men think I'm hot and all the 15 and 16 year olds think I'm hot, but boys 20-30 , nope, nothing, nada. Oh well...What's a girl to do, at least somebody think i'm hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to go to Taiwan and see my brother and his family. I miss them all so much. A bunch of my friends are going to Taiwan this week for a mission trip, I'm insanely jealous. So if anyone out there reading this feels like spotting me $800 for a plane ticket it would be greatly appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think that is about all for now, I should be at the gym right now, but as you can see, I'm not, and to be honest I don't really think I'm going to go. I always feel so rebellious and risky when I skip the gym. It's like a get a high from not going, it just seems so scandalous.&lt;br /&gt;Watch out!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114288308064953780?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114288308064953780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114288308064953780' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114288308064953780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114288308064953780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/03/nothing-new.html' title='Nothing new'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114176239974284854</id><published>2006-03-07T13:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T17:41:26.436-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Registries are my friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Ok I know this might be a touchy subject for some, but I have one statement for everyone, Registries...People have these for a reason. My roommate is getting married soon and she's has just entered into the season of the Bridal shower. Her and her fiancée have spent a lot of time registering for gifts and for some reason people keep getting her things that aren't on her registry. This isn't just happening to her, being a graduate of a Bible college (AKA Bridal college) I've spent many hours at bridal showers, and this seems to be the trend at almost all of them. I realize that, yes, some people may have flawless taste, but they should also keep in mind that their "flawless taste" might not be the same as the couple getting married. I mean why do people think it is ok to buy the couple towels of any color they chose. If the couple wanted you to decide the color of their kitchen and bathroom, they would have called you. I don’t think a couple wants to have towels of every color. I guess this could be good in the long run, if they wanted to change the color of her bathroom on a monthly basis for the next 5 years. People have registries for a reason. Sometimes, believe it or not, a couple might not have use for wind chimes and crystal punch bowls. I know this may seem shocking to some, but some couples might not want to have three blenders and 5 sets of Pyrex bowls. Which brings me to my next point, if for some reason the wild side of you decides to buy off the registry, make sure what you buy gets marked off the registry list, so we can all avoid watching the couple open the same gift from 4 different people at the shower. In conclusion, People. Let’s just stick to the registries. They are our friend. Say it to yourself. Registries are my friend...I should use one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114176239974284854?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114176239974284854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114176239974284854' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114176239974284854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114176239974284854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/03/registries-are-my-friend.html' title='Registries are my friend'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-114021489826842261</id><published>2006-02-17T15:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T20:15:49.836-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She knows the high stakes</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think all the movies I’ve watched have messed up my view of reality. It's like I just keep waiting for my life to take this huge romantic twist. I don't just mean with a man, I mean with every aspect of my life. I just feel so bored and stuck. It's like something inside of me is screaming…I need excitement, adventure, just something new. In the words of John Mayer.."it might be a quarter life crisis."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just seems like I should be doing more living than this. I'm not attached by any mean. Nothing is holding me back, so what am I doing just sitting here. I just feel like I’m wasting the best part of my life by living in Rolla, Mo. I just want something better. I love my job, I just want to love my job in a different place. Part of me..well most of me, just wants to pick up and move somewhere and see what happens. You know just dive in head first and see what comes of it. Maybe I’d get there and fail and have to come crawling back home to mommy and daddy, but at least I could say I took the risk and I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that seems risky. But this seems like the best time in my life for taking risk. I feel like I spend so much time fearing that I’ll fail, that it's keeping me from living to the fullest. I just want to take a risk, I’m tired of living in certainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the Romantic in me needs to be squashed real quick. Maybe this is just the way life is supposed to be. Are you always supposed to feel restless and unfulfilled? Maybe when people say the real world sucks..they aren't kidding. My current situation makes me think of the Dixie chicks song, wide open spaces, I love these lines of the song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Who doesn't know what I'm talking about &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Who's never left home, who's never struck out &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To find a dream and a life of their own &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A young girl's dream no longer hollow &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It takes the shape of a place out west &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She needs wide open spaces &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Room to make her big mistakes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She needs new faces &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She knows the high stakes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But now she won't be coming back with the rest &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-114021489826842261?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/114021489826842261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=114021489826842261' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114021489826842261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/114021489826842261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/02/she-knows-high-stakes.html' title='She knows the high stakes'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113971960019023114</id><published>2006-02-11T22:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T22:46:40.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun times at the gym...</title><content type='html'>So I was at the gym tonight. You know just doing my thing like always. Wearing my big shorts and a big t-shirt....Not looking cute by any means.&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the treadmill gasping for air, sweating profusely, and there are these two girls in front on me on the bikes. There just chit chatting it up, not really putting forth any effort. Then in walks 2 other girls and they all start talking. They are all extremely cute...Wearing there little pink t-shirts and short shorts. They're all decked out in there hoop earrings, and full make up. There hair is actually up in a pony tail (give them props for that), But it's one of those pony tails that you know they spent 10 minutes on, trying to make it look messy.&lt;br /&gt;After talking for a while, they all move over to the treadmill. I'm thinking...ok now..There going to begin there real workout...hoping deep down inside that they acquired those great bodies by running 5 miles a day. Nope I was wrong, they all just stand on the machines and talk. By this time I was moving on the weights. I'm sitting on the machines drenched in sweat, my face is bright red, and my hair is everywhere. Mean while I'm pretty sure these girls are getting cuter and skinner while they are standing there talking. I'll will give one girl credit because I think I saw her do 5 calf raises.&lt;br /&gt;Girls like this annoy me the most. I never understand while they even belong to gyms. I'm mean it's inevitable that there is always at least one girl like this at the gym. Those girls make me want to just go home and eat brownies and Ice cream. They make me so mad, because while they are sitting there talking and checking out cute boys, there's always me and an extremely overweight person working are tails off. And do we ever lose weight...nope.&lt;br /&gt;Well that is all i have for this evening. Just needed to get this off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113971960019023114?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113971960019023114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113971960019023114' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113971960019023114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113971960019023114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/02/fun-times-at-gym.html' title='Fun times at the gym...'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113892296824028842</id><published>2006-02-02T16:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T17:29:28.256-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Was that the best I'll ever be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is a song by Sister Hazel. I'm sure that it is a love song to some girl, But when I was listening to it all I could think about was God. I think this song describes how I feel about my relationship with God (or lack there of). It just seems like my relationship has just gone to crap over the past few years. I keep thinking back to the time in my life when I was so passionate about God and ministry. I used to have huge dream for myself in ministry, But now they are all just gone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It doesn't seem as though I'll ever be that close to God again. It's like I keep waiting and praying that one day my passion will be re-fueled and I'll love Him as much as I used to. It just seems like all my efforts and prayers are just hitting against a brick wall. It's almost like I feel dead inside. So now I often wonder, was that the best I'll ever be?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss being overwhelmed by you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I need rescue&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I think I'm fading away&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But I keep thinking that you'll wake me up with a whisper in my ear&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I keep hoping that you'll sneak in my room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I wait and I wait&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I run old scenes through my tired head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Of the days we laid by the school and said forever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Was that the best I'll ever be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss talking all night long with you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I need this to find a way to your home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My love can you hear me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have I been hoping loud enough, wishing hard enough&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Can you see me when I'm asleep all alone - alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So I wait and I wait&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I run myself in the same old circles&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I sit and I stare&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I run old scenes through my tired head&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Of the days that we laid by the school and said forever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Was that the best I'll ever be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Can't keep my hands from shaking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stumbling through the wreckage again&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But you're gone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I wait and I wait&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I run myself in the same old circles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I sit and I stare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I run old scenes through my tired head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Of the days that we laid on our backs and said forever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Was that the best I'll ever be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Was that the best I'll ever be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Was that the best I'll ever be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113892296824028842?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113892296824028842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113892296824028842' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113892296824028842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113892296824028842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/02/was-that-best-ill-ever-be.html' title='Was that the best I&apos;ll ever be?'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113811941321912566</id><published>2006-01-24T09:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T10:16:54.086-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality check</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Part of our daily routine everyday at Boys and Girls town is to walk up and down 104 stairs 5 times a day. You see the great thing about our campus is that it's all on a hill. The school, the dinning hall...well pretty much every place that the kids have to go to on a daily basis, is at the bottom of the Hill. So that means when ever we want to go somewhere, we get the kids in a line and we walk up and down 104 stairs.&lt;br /&gt;There is this guy on our campus that teaches the staff Love and Logic. Which..by the way, I love. Anyway, so this guy came to take me out and talk to me this morning. He usually drives me down the hill while we talk and the kids walk down for breakfast. Today he decided that we would let 2 kids ride in the car with us. I didn't think it would be a big deal for them. But when they got in that car, a honda Civic, you would have thought they were riding in Air force one with the president. They were pumped. The ride probably lasted about 2 minutes, but they were beaming every minute of it. They kept saying..i am going to have a good day now, this is amazing..this is great...this is so cool. We ridin' in Style. Did i mention it was only a Honda Civic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Who would of thought riding in a Honda Civic for 2 minutes would bring a kid so much joy. It's moments like this that remind me just how little these kids really have. I forget to often that these kids don't live normal lives.&lt;br /&gt;   -They live in a place that they have to constantly ask permission. They can't even get toliet paper by their selves. They have to ask staff for it, so we and every one in the cottage knows when people are pooping ( they also only get about 8-10 squares).&lt;br /&gt;  -They live in a place where, while they sleep at night, someone comes and shines a flashlight in their eyes every 3o minutes to make sure they are still there.&lt;br /&gt;  -They live is a place where, seeing a kid get restrained by staff is a normal occurrence. I don't guess many of you have seen a kid get restrained. Let me just tell you it's not a pretty sight.&lt;br /&gt;  -They live in a place where they have to constantly watch their backs.&lt;br /&gt;  -They live in a place where they have to be searched every time they enter a building.&lt;br /&gt;  -They live everyday hoping for good news, hoping they that they'll get adopted, or hoping they'll get to go home soon.&lt;br /&gt;I realized today that i take so many luxuries for granted. I have so much to be thankful for. I've always whined about my child hood. Compared to the lives these kids have had to live, my childhood, seems like a cake walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113811941321912566?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113811941321912566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113811941321912566' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113811941321912566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113811941321912566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/01/reality-check.html' title='Reality check'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113756556599137294</id><published>2006-01-17T23:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T00:26:06.000-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My first restraint</title><content type='html'>Today I had to do my first real restraint on a kid. One of my boys was going nuts..I still don't even know why...I don't even think he knows why. He first tried to go AOL. So my partner had to grab him. She had him under control at first. Then like so many kids do, he started banging his head on the floor. They usually do this, so they can get marks on their heads and then hot line you and call you a child abuser. Or sometimes..They are just kids that like self harm. This was a kid who is a self harmer..Whenever he gets upset he wants to cut on himself, or bang his head against the wall.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway..So I had to jump in the restraint with her. The kid was on his back and we were on both sides of him, holding down his arms. The kid is just going nuts, he was screaming and crying (which translates to.. His nasty breath engulfing me). Then he starts trying to bite me...And hitting me. I couldn't believe it. He never got me, but man I was a little mad about it. When I asked him why he was trying to bite me, he said because he hated me. Which you can't take personally because he was in a total irrational state. Not to mention later on that night..He was like hey mom..Come sit by me. I laughed when he asked me that..I said, UM..I recall this time earlier today, when you were trying to bite me and told me you hated me, why would I want to come sit by you. Basically he wanted me to sit by him because he was mouthing the other kids and he needed staff to protect him. (I hate when kids do that). I'm not going to lie to you, there have been a few times that I just want to turn my back for a minute so the little mouthy kids would just get popped one right in the face.&lt;br /&gt;Well even though the restraint was dreadful. There was one positive thing about it. Since the kid was kicking, the rec guy had to come lay of his legs. Did I mention he is a super hot rec teacher, who I have really been wanting to talk to. So me..being the big pimp we all know I am.... took advantage of the fact that there was a extremely hot guy lying next to me..and took the opportunity to talk to him. The only bad part is...I think I spotted a wedding ring..:-(&lt;br /&gt;Another one bites the dust. Maybe, just maybe, it's a chasity ring and he waiting for the perfect Christian girl to sweep off her feet...oh wait..that only happens in movies...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113756556599137294?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113756556599137294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113756556599137294' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113756556599137294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113756556599137294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-first-restraint.html' title='My first restraint'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113712471336220800</id><published>2006-01-12T21:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T22:05:06.030-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A good quote</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;"The Credit belongs to those people who are actually in the arena...who know the great enthusiasm, the great devotions to a worthy cause; who at best, know the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, fail while daring greatly...so that their place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;-Theodore Roosevelt. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113712471336220800?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113712471336220800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113712471336220800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113712471336220800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113712471336220800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/01/good-quote.html' title='A good quote'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113631839740143655</id><published>2006-01-03T13:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T13:59:57.413-06:00</updated><title type='text'>There must be a sign</title><content type='html'>So my new years was real lame. I ate Chinese, watched a movie by myself in my apartment, and I was in bed by 10pm. BOOO!!! I would like to say in my defense that there was just cause for my lameness. I had to be at work at 6:00 am on New years day, so that put a damper on my new years festivities. I would also like to state that I did have offers, but I am trying this responsible adult thing, so going to bed early was best.&lt;br /&gt;Well enough of that. I do have a random question. Why is it that people think it's ok to come up to me and point out my flaws. There have been numerous times that people I don't even know have come up to me and pointed out something wrong with me. Do we need to start teaching acceptable social behavior in school? I mean why do people think this is ok? You would think people would know that the average girl in America has issues with low self-esteem. We spend most of our time critiquing ourselves anyway, we don't need help from outside sources. Come on, give a girl a break. What, Do they think I don't know I have gray hair, acne, and some chub? I think I must have a sign on me that reads...Please critique every inch on my being...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113631839740143655?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113631839740143655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113631839740143655' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113631839740143655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113631839740143655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2006/01/there-must-be-sign.html' title='There must be a sign'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113583588317852909</id><published>2005-12-28T23:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T23:58:03.193-06:00</updated><title type='text'>blessing in disguise</title><content type='html'>This has been a crazy week at work. First off, the kids are out of school for Christmas break, so that means we get to work 16 hours a day. I've already worked 57 hours this week and it's only Wednesday. Lets just say that i'm insanely tired. I only have 2 more days of 16's and then I can collect a huge paycheck. I love overtime...whoever thought of time and a half deserves a huge kiss.&lt;br /&gt;So on Christmas day I was told i was being moved to a different cottage. Merry Christmas huh? The cottage I was working in is starting a new program and they want people with degrees in social work and physiology. So that kind of counted me out of the running. I was honestly really sad that I had to leave my boys and my cottage. I was just starting to get the routine down and build relationships with my kids.&lt;br /&gt;The more I think about it though, i think this transfer is a blessing in disguise. I was having trouble with my partner. It was really starting to stress me out. I was talking to my parents about it over Christmas and one night we prayed about it and the very next day i was moved, so maybe this is what God thinks is best. Also since I heard about this new program starting, I was getting nervous that i would lose my job. So part of me was excited to know that they had a spot for me in another cottage.&lt;br /&gt;I'm slowly getting used to this new change. I still miss my kids a lot, but I still get to see them a lot, so that's good. Also my new cottage has 2 amazing staff in it, and i think i'll learn a lot from them. So now I have 19 new boys to learn about and build relationships with. It's kind of exciting.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah..just a random thought..today we got to go roller skating with the kids. Talk about a blast from the past. I felt like i was back in my skater skank days. It was a good time. I'm proud to say that i didn't fall once and I can still get around on skates pretty good..I was proud of myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113583588317852909?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113583588317852909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113583588317852909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113583588317852909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113583588317852909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/blessing-in-disguise.html' title='blessing in disguise'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113477964001135780</id><published>2005-12-16T18:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T18:34:52.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>how cute is she?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/bells.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/bells.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/emilee4.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/emilee4.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/emilee3.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/emilee3.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/emilee2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/emilee2.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/1600/emilee.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1058/1668/320/emilee.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113477964001135780?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113477964001135780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113477964001135780' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113477964001135780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113477964001135780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/how-cute-is-she.html' title='how cute is she?'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113471005725609688</id><published>2005-12-15T22:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T23:14:17.276-06:00</updated><title type='text'>in my weakness...</title><content type='html'>Last night we had a candlelight dinner at work for the kids. It is this huge event that boys and girls town throws every year. All kinds of people come; people from the community, the big dogs of BGTM, staff, lots of cute soldiers and of course the kids. We had dinner, listened to the CEO talk and then the choir performed. It was really nice.&lt;br /&gt;The whole time people were talking about all these different things being done for the kids. So many people have given so much money and time to help these kids. It was like I was in one of those commercials about kids, you know...the ones that that make you cry. The whole time I couldn't believe that I was there and that I am sorta in a small way a part of all of this.&lt;br /&gt;I want so badly to be great at my job. I want to excel at this. I really want to make a difference in these kids lives. I don't want to be one of those people that goes to work and (excuse my language) does a half-ass job. I want so badly to be great.&lt;br /&gt;It seems as though everything points against that dream. It seems as though everything about who I am is not fit for this profession. I realize that to everyone I work with, I am probably a waist of space. Most people I work with don't think I'll last. You know, maybe I don't have the a bold, overbearing personality. Maybe I'm not big enough to take down half those kids and maybe I'm not loud and intimidating. But even with all the negativity I feel from my fellow employees, I feel that I am working there for a reason. One of my favoirte verses has always been 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, it has always given me hope, expecially now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And He has said to me, "&lt;em&gt;My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness&lt;/em&gt; " Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that my friends is the hope that I am holding on to. I hope so badly that God has put me where I am to grow and teach me. I don't claim to be good at what I do, but I do hope that one day the power of Christ will be displayed through me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113471005725609688?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113471005725609688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113471005725609688' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113471005725609688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113471005725609688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/in-my-weakness.html' title='in my weakness...'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113389352744170419</id><published>2005-12-06T10:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T12:25:27.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinster for life</title><content type='html'>Right now I want to be completely real. I don't like to hold back and I don't like to pretend to be something I'm not. I don't want to pretend everything is ok. This isn't meant to be a pity party, this is just me showing who I am and what my heart is feeling.&lt;br /&gt;For so long I have walked around with the attitude like I could care less if I was married.  I try to be cool about it and act like it's no big deal that I've been single my entire life. The truth is that I am lonely and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of people asking me about my love life. I'm tired of responding "no", to the question..Are you dating anyone? I'm tired of people saying..Well why not? It's like they assume their must be something wrong with me or it's my fault I'm single. I have a feeling that this is what I'll be facing the rest of my adult life if I never get married. I'll be known as the girl who is flawed and therefore unable to take a husband.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the search for Mr. Right is hopeless. I mean here I am, living it a town where the guy to girl ratio is 1 to 4 and I still can't find a man who is interested in me. Is it me? Is there something wrong with me that I'm not aware of? I wish someone would just tell me.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe there isn't any one out there for me. Maybe the reason that I have spent my entire life single is so I won't know what I'm missing out on. Maybe I'm to picky, maybe my standards are to high? Who am I kidding...That can't be it..in order to be picky there must be guys available for me to be picky with. Maybe my role in this life is to be the forever third wheel, or the best friend of the groom, or the bridesmaid. Maybe I'm meant to be the "sister" for all those guys out there who have never had a real sister. Those have been the roles I've been cast for so far..Why stop now? What girl doesn't love to hear...I just don't think of you like that, or you're such a good friend..You're like the sister I never had. Aww...Those words are music to my ears.&lt;br /&gt;The truth is..I just want someone to love me. Someone who is ok with my chub. Someone who can deal with my blond moments. I want someone who will play tennis with me, and won't let me win just because I am a girl. I want a faithful companion. I want someone who I can laugh with. I want someone who makes me feel special, someone who makes me feel loved and respected. Someone who brings out the best in me, and I in him.&lt;br /&gt;                   I just want a Mark Darsey who likes me just the way I am. Is that too much to ask?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113389352744170419?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113389352744170419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113389352744170419' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113389352744170419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113389352744170419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/spinster-for-life.html' title='Spinster for life'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113375845575083458</id><published>2005-12-04T22:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T22:54:15.760-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It broke my heart</title><content type='html'>My heart was broken today. I can't say that I've ever been disappointed in anyone, but today I was.&lt;br /&gt;Today at work me and my partner, decided we wanted to do something nice for the boys. So we cancelled our dinner at the dining hall and decided to cook something nice for the boys. Rudy (he's my partner, also my husband 4 days a week) made ribs, mac and cheese, and green beans. I made some cheesy mashed potatoes. Well anyway, the boys really wanted hot sauce and soda, so I went to the store to get some. Sometimes when I go to the store I take residents with me. It's kind of nice for them to be able to get off campus once in a while. I also love this time because it's gives me the chance to give my full attention to one or two residents. Well we are all in line checking out. One of my boys is acting real suspicious  He would eye the candy in the ile and then look back at me. So I kept watching him. Well we were about to leave and I turn and look just in time to see him stick something in his pocket. I told him to put it back. I was so embarrassed. I hated that I had to call him on it. I hated that people in the store saw this. I felt stupid and horrible because it happened.&lt;br /&gt;All day my mind was consumed with this event. It hurts me so bad to know that I will never be able to trust any of these kids. This boy has been in and out of residential homes his whole life. He's 17 and he knows right from wrong. It breaks my heart because I wonder if any of these kids will ever be "good kids." Will they ever be able to turn their lives around and make something of their selves. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even doing anything good for these kids. I really truly wonder if I'm really ever going to have an effect on their lives. I mean that is why I'm there. I show up everyday, because I love these kids, and I want to see them become something great.&lt;br /&gt;I think about God and his unconditional love for us a lot. It seems like everyday the staff shows up. We try so hard to do nice things for them. Yet the kids continue to mess up. They continue to push you away and say mean things to you. And you just have to take it. You just have to continue to love and continue to show up everyday. I have a feeling in this profession, I'll be getting my heart broken a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113375845575083458?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113375845575083458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113375845575083458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113375845575083458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113375845575083458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/it-broke-my-heart.html' title='It broke my heart'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113346319551761690</id><published>2005-12-01T11:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T12:53:15.566-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Typical Thursday</title><content type='html'>Well it's Thursday morning, and as usual I'm bored out of my mind. Soaps have taken over the TV, so TV isn't an option. I would read, but it's still too early for my mind to focus on anything. (by early I mean still before noon) I stole this quetionair thing from my buddy Kristy, So if you bored take a gander at this and fill out your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eighty Things About Me..&lt;br /&gt;1} &lt;strong&gt;Last thing you burned while attempting to cook?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pumpkin pie..Thanksgiving day.oops&lt;br /&gt;2} &lt;strong&gt;Describe yourself in three words:&lt;/strong&gt; easy going, fun, and reserved&lt;br /&gt;3} &lt;strong&gt;How long does it take you to get ready for your day?&lt;/strong&gt;30 minutes including shower, unless I'm trying to look real hot, then it takes 45 mins.&lt;br /&gt;4} &lt;strong&gt;Favorite place to blow $50?&lt;/strong&gt; Target&lt;br /&gt;5} &lt;strong&gt;How many people have you thought were "the one"?&lt;/strong&gt; I think just one...Maybe 3. I have issues with that.&lt;br /&gt;6} &lt;strong&gt;What is something that turns you off from the opposite sex?&lt;/strong&gt;bad social skills&lt;br /&gt;7} &lt;strong&gt;What kind of car do you drive?&lt;/strong&gt;1998 Ford Escort ZX2&lt;br /&gt;8} &lt;strong&gt;What's in your CD player right now?&lt;/strong&gt;I think destiny child's --number ones.&lt;br /&gt;9} &lt;strong&gt;What celebrity would you have coffee with?&lt;/strong&gt; Jennifer Aniston, she seems fun.&lt;br /&gt;10} &lt;strong&gt;What celebrity would you NOT have coffee with?&lt;/strong&gt; Owen Wilson..That man annoys me.&lt;br /&gt;11} &lt;strong&gt;What kind of toothpaste do you use?&lt;/strong&gt; Crest rejuvenating effects&lt;br /&gt;12} &lt;strong&gt;What time do you go to bed?&lt;/strong&gt; 11 is usually the lastest.&lt;br /&gt;13} &lt;strong&gt;Last movie you saw? &lt;/strong&gt;in the theater..Elizabeth Town. At home..Serendipity.&lt;br /&gt;14}&lt;strong&gt; Last TV show you watched?&lt;/strong&gt; The apprentice with Martha..I'm obsessed with it..maybe kind of dorky to most but I love it.&lt;br /&gt;15} &lt;strong&gt;Who is your best friend?&lt;/strong&gt;It's hard telling at this point.&lt;br /&gt;16} &lt;strong&gt;Who in your family do you best get along with?&lt;/strong&gt; My brother Casey..who I miss a lot.&lt;br /&gt;17} &lt;strong&gt;Who do you have a crush on?&lt;/strong&gt; I can't really say that I have a crush on anyone, but there is this guy at work whom i've never spoken to, but he is some serious eye candy.&lt;br /&gt;18} &lt;strong&gt;What time is it right now?&lt;/strong&gt;11:50 am&lt;br /&gt;19} &lt;strong&gt;Are you planning a vacation/travel?&lt;/strong&gt; To Taiwan to see my brother and family when I save enough money and earn enough vacation time.&lt;br /&gt;20} &lt;strong&gt;When/Where was the last time you traveled?&lt;/strong&gt; Went to Michigan last weekend to be in a my friend's anna and Jim's wedding.&lt;br /&gt;21} &lt;strong&gt;How many times have you been in love?&lt;/strong&gt;I think I was in love once, but who really knows.&lt;br /&gt;22} &lt;strong&gt;How old will you be in 10 years?&lt;/strong&gt;32&lt;br /&gt;23} &lt;strong&gt;Where do you see yourself in 10 years? &lt;/strong&gt;Honestly I have no idea. I stopped making plans because they always get changed.&lt;br /&gt;24} &lt;strong&gt;Sinful snacking weakness?&lt;/strong&gt; cookie dough&lt;br /&gt;25} &lt;strong&gt;Rollercoasters?&lt;/strong&gt;Love them so much I worked at Worlds of fun one summer.&lt;br /&gt;26} &lt;strong&gt;Ever run out of gas?&lt;/strong&gt; Me and my Friend Amber tried to once...long story.&lt;br /&gt;27} &lt;strong&gt;Ever been on a train?&lt;/strong&gt; yes, try to ride one up to Chicago once a year.&lt;br /&gt;28} &lt;strong&gt;Ever been on a blind date?&lt;/strong&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;29} &lt;strong&gt;Ever been to Europe?&lt;/strong&gt;not yet&lt;br /&gt;30} &lt;strong&gt;What would you do if you could be the opposite sex for one day?&lt;/strong&gt; I'd convice a really amazing guy to ask out my good friend Ricki Bell... ;-)&lt;br /&gt;31} &lt;strong&gt;Would you tell anyone it was really you?&lt;/strong&gt;well no that would defeat the whole purpose and I would never get a date.&lt;br /&gt;32} &lt;strong&gt;Ever been arrested?&lt;/strong&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;33} &lt;strong&gt;Have a crush on anyone you work with?&lt;/strong&gt; Like I said, no crush, just something nice to look at everyday.&lt;br /&gt;34} &lt;strong&gt;What is something you believe in?&lt;/strong&gt; God&lt;br /&gt;35} &lt;strong&gt;What is something you fear?&lt;/strong&gt;failure&lt;br /&gt;36} &lt;strong&gt;Big or small?&lt;/strong&gt;Big..shoe collection--small...body..like to be real skinny.&lt;br /&gt;37} &lt;strong&gt;What is the worst physical or emotional pain you have ever experienced?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a broken heart.&lt;br /&gt;38} &lt;strong&gt;What is your favorite television show?&lt;/strong&gt;Friends...nothing has toped it yet.&lt;br /&gt;39} &lt;strong&gt;Ever photoshopped yourself to look better in a picture?&lt;/strong&gt;nope, can't say I would even know how to do that... maybe that will go on my things to learn list.&lt;br /&gt;40} &lt;strong&gt;Tell us something about your childhood&lt;/strong&gt;. My mom left me at a gas station once.&lt;br /&gt;41} &lt;strong&gt;What would it cost for you to flash the person next to you?&lt;/strong&gt;yeah I'm not sure I would do that.&lt;br /&gt;42} &lt;strong&gt;Best time to catch you in a good mood?&lt;/strong&gt;late at night.&lt;br /&gt;43} &lt;strong&gt;If you could be anything for one day, what would it be?&lt;/strong&gt; a good social worker ...I'm tired to seeing kids get screwed over by them.&lt;br /&gt;44} &lt;strong&gt;Most prized possesion?&lt;/strong&gt; I gues my scrapbooks.&lt;br /&gt;45}&lt;strong&gt; Would you ever sell it/how much?&lt;/strong&gt;never&lt;br /&gt;46} &lt;strong&gt;What is one of your pet peeves?&lt;/strong&gt;people who are fake.&lt;br /&gt;47} &lt;strong&gt;Favorite kind of ice cream.&lt;/strong&gt; Ben and Jerry's fish food.&lt;br /&gt;48} &lt;strong&gt;Coolest thing that happened today?&lt;/strong&gt; got a comment on my blog from Kristy.&lt;br /&gt;49} &lt;strong&gt;Name someone with the same birthday as you:&lt;/strong&gt; Sarah Michelle Gellar and Pete Rose.&lt;br /&gt;50} &lt;strong&gt;Where was your first kiss?&lt;/strong&gt; I hate to admit this, but I haven't had mine yet.&lt;br /&gt;51} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else's property?&lt;/strong&gt;I've TP'd a lot of houses&lt;br /&gt;52} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?&lt;/strong&gt; yeah..my brother. and other boys, just playing around though.&lt;br /&gt;53} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever sang in front of a large number of people?&lt;/strong&gt;Yes, but not by myself.&lt;br /&gt;54}&lt;strong&gt; what's the first thing you notice about the opposite/same sex?&lt;/strong&gt; smile and eyes.&lt;br /&gt;What happened to #55??&lt;br /&gt;56} &lt;strong&gt;What do you usually order from starbucks?&lt;/strong&gt; Double Chocolate chip Creme'...don't like coffee.&lt;br /&gt;57}&lt;strong&gt; What is your biggest mistake?&lt;/strong&gt; idon't know..not sure I have one.&lt;br /&gt;58} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?&lt;/strong&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;59} &lt;strong&gt;Say something totally random about you&lt;/strong&gt;:I'm a closet Avril Lavigne fan..shhh..&lt;br /&gt;60} &lt;strong&gt;Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?&lt;/strong&gt;no but I get asked if I'm related to Ricki Lake..Apparently since we have to same first name that seems like a logical question to some.&lt;br /&gt;61} &lt;strong&gt;Do you still watch kiddy movies or TV shows?&lt;/strong&gt;not by choice...Sometimes I'm forced to watch spungbob, because my boys love it.&lt;br /&gt;62} &lt;strong&gt;Did you have braces?&lt;/strong&gt;nope, I'm all natural baby.&lt;br /&gt;63} &lt;strong&gt;Are you comfortable with your height?&lt;/strong&gt; NO..all I'm asking for is 2 more inches.&lt;br /&gt;64} &lt;strong&gt;What is the most romantic thing about someone of the opposite/same sex?&lt;/strong&gt; When someone you like gives you that look or touches your hand and it makes your stomach do a flip.&lt;br /&gt;65} &lt;strong&gt;When do you know it's love?&lt;/strong&gt;I guess when you make the choice to Love them no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;66} &lt;strong&gt;Do you speak other languages?&lt;/strong&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;67} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever been to a tanning salon?&lt;/strong&gt;yeah..I LOVE IT!!!&lt;br /&gt;68} &lt;strong&gt;What magazines do you read?&lt;/strong&gt; don't really read any..Unless you count the ones I look at while in line at walmart.&lt;br /&gt;69} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever ridden in a limo?&lt;/strong&gt; nope&lt;br /&gt;70} &lt;strong&gt;Has anyone you were really close with passed away?&lt;/strong&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;71} &lt;strong&gt;Do you watch mtv?&lt;/strong&gt;no not really..no cable.&lt;br /&gt;72} &lt;strong&gt;What's something that really annoys you?&lt;/strong&gt; when people make you feel dumb or inferior.&lt;br /&gt;73} &lt;strong&gt;What's something you really like?&lt;/strong&gt; going to a coffee shop and reading a good book.&lt;br /&gt;74} &lt;strong&gt;Do you like Michael Jackson?&lt;/strong&gt;at one time I did.&lt;br /&gt;75} &lt;strong&gt;Can you dance?&lt;/strong&gt; Heck yeah..I can shake it like a salt shaker.&lt;br /&gt;76} &lt;strong&gt;What's the latest you have ever stayed up?&lt;/strong&gt; probably like 5 am.&lt;br /&gt;77} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever thought that you were honestly going to die?&lt;/strong&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;78} &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?&lt;/strong&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;79}&lt;strong&gt; Do you actually read these when other people fill them out?&lt;/strong&gt;when i'm bored&lt;br /&gt;80} &lt;strong&gt;Who did u take this from?&lt;/strong&gt;Kristy's onlinejournale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113346319551761690?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113346319551761690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113346319551761690' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113346319551761690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113346319551761690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/12/typical-thursday.html' title='Typical Thursday'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113341084656597518</id><published>2005-11-30T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T22:20:46.596-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boys will be boys</title><content type='html'>I have exciting news...I got internet in my apartment. So I no longer have to go to the library to use the internet!! Which could be a bad thing, because going to the library was one of the few things I left my apartment for. I'm definitely turning into a hermit. I think it's because Sunday through Wednesday I spend so much time with people, that come Thursday I just want to retreat and spend time re-charging my batteries. Oh well..Maybe someday I'll emerge from my apartment and try to make friends. Maybe "friends" is a bit ambitious, I'll emerge and try to make a friend.&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, today was an interesting day at work. Wednesdays are supposed to be an easy and short day. We only actually have to take care of the kids for 3 hours. We drop them off at school at 9:00am then don't see them the rest of the day. Well around 8:00am, two of my boys decide they want to start arguing and pushing eachother. So being the good mom that I am, I jump in between them and try to calm them down and talk them out of doing anything stupid. The fight was kind of the David and Goliath. So I was focusing on the bigger boy, thinking he will tear this kid up if I let him. So my back was turned to the little guy. Well sure enough the little guy takes a swing at the other boy and just nails me in the back of the head. Now what I've learned working in a boys cottage is the you don't ever lay hands on Mom, because if you do, the other boys get real upset. So after I got hit accidentally every boy was like..Did he hit you mom? Do you want us to jump him? It was so funny, because they all got real protective and concerned for me. Part of me was flattered, but still you don't want the kids to jump some kid for accidentally hitting you. Well anyway..Nothing ever happen. The boy that hit me apologized and the other boys didn't jump him. And we all lived happily ever after, well at least for 10 more minutes until another issue arose. AHH yes..The life of a child care worker. Always dramatic..Yet always worth the stress and pain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113341084656597518?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113341084656597518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113341084656597518' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113341084656597518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113341084656597518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/11/boys-will-be-boys.html' title='Boys will be boys'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113323899161769828</id><published>2005-11-28T22:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T22:43:20.183-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Superstar Charisma?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#e6e6fa;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Your Birthdate: April 14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#f2f2fb"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/birthday.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;You work well with others. That is, you're good at getting them to do work for you.It's true that you get by on your charm. But so what? You make people happy!You're dynamic, clever, and funny. And people like to have you around.But you're so restless, they better not expect you to stay around for long.&lt;br /&gt;Your strength: Your superstar charisma&lt;br /&gt;Your weakness: Commitment means nothing to you&lt;br /&gt;Your power color: Fuchsia&lt;br /&gt;Your power symbol: Diamond&lt;br /&gt;Your power month: May&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;What&lt;/a&gt; Does Your Birth Date Mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sounds about right to me. Expecially the part about being restless and how commitment means nothing to me. :-) I'm not so sure about super star Charisma, but it sounds cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113323899161769828?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113323899161769828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113323899161769828' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113323899161769828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113323899161769828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/11/superstar-charisma.html' title='Superstar Charisma?'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-113218495859969036</id><published>2005-11-16T17:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T17:49:18.606-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a MOM!!!</title><content type='html'>Yes you read the title right. I am a mom to 15 teenage boys. Amazing isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;I just entered into my 3rd month of working at the boys and Girls town. I'm working in an all boys cottage. They are all between 14-17 and they all call me mom. Everyday I hear the words good morning Mom. Who would of thought that I would be hearing those words at the age of 22? As weird as it is, I absolutely love my job. I feel insanely blessed that I have a job I love. It seems to me that most people graduate college and they get jobs they hate. I always figured that was how life was supposed to be. You Graduate, you take any job you can get, you live, work, and wait for your dream job to come along. I can't believe my dream job came along so quickly. It's like this job was meant for me. The hours seem to be perfectly designed for me. I only have to work 3 and 1/2 days a week. I get every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off. I only work when the kids aren't in school, so after we drop them off at school, I get to go home and sleep til it's time to pick them up. Also I get to hang out with really cool kids, play basketball, watch movies, cook for them, and just hang out and I get paid for it!! Man I feel so blessed to have such a great job!! Praise the Lord. Granted things aren't always that easy in my profession, but I'm learning each and everyday. My hope is that I will really be able to make a difference in these kids' lives. Anyway...That is all for today my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-113218495859969036?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/113218495859969036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=113218495859969036' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113218495859969036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/113218495859969036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/11/im-mom.html' title='I&apos;m a MOM!!!'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-112923159316762090</id><published>2005-10-13T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T14:57:25.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crash</title><content type='html'>Last night I watched a really good movie. The movie is called Crash. It has a great cast, with the exception of Brendan Fraser, who normally gets on my nerves, but he's surprisingly not annoying in this movie. Anyway, the movie is about Racism. It really makes you think. It was one of the movies that after you watch it, your brain goes into over drive and all you can do is sit there in silence and think. I think I need to watch again.&lt;br /&gt;As I sat there and thought I started thinking about religion. I struggle almost everyday with my stereotype of Christians. To be honest I have this horrible view of Christians. I think that is what 4 years of Bible college did to me. It's gotten to the point where I don't even want to be knows as a Christian because I know of all the negative connotations that come along with the name Christian. I Hate that Christians are so judgmental. I hate that we are so hypercritical. I hate that we are so legalistic. I feel like 90% of the time I am a bad representative of Christ, Which makes me not want to be associated with the name Christian. I just don't want to ruin it for the rest of the Christians out there.&lt;br /&gt;I love in the book Blue like Jazz, where they set up a confession booth for the purpose of the Christians confessing their sins to the non-Christians. That is exactly what I feel like I need to be doing. Like every time someone finds out I'm a Christian I feel the need to immediately start apologizing for whatever Christian has done them wrong in the past.&lt;br /&gt;I do realize however that being a Christian is just who I am. It's a choice that I have made, and no matter how much I hate it, or how many times I try to escape it, it will always be a part of who I am. So I guess I need to buck up and work to be the best Christian I can be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-112923159316762090?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/112923159316762090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=112923159316762090' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112923159316762090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112923159316762090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/10/crash.html' title='Crash'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-112861985721727711</id><published>2005-10-06T12:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T14:03:26.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in Rolla</title><content type='html'>Well I'm in Rolla now. It's ok. Rolla is a lot like moberly, only rolla has an applebees. Which is always exciting. I'm working at the boys and girls town of St.James. I absolutely love it. Now that I've done this job I can't imagine doing anything but this. I'm so glad I don't have to work in some office or bank or something lame like that. I get paid to hang out with really cool kids for 43 hours a week. For those of you who are wondering what boys and girls town is, it is a residential treatment home. It is for the treatment and care of abused, abandoned and neglected kids.&lt;br /&gt;I can't lie, even though I love the job, it is also one of the hardest jobs I've ever had. Everyday is a challenge, and everyday is completely different. I think that is why I love it so much. I'm fully cofindent this is where God wants me to be working, but not a day goes by that I don't ask him why he picked me to work there. To be honest I don't feel adequate to be working at a place like this. I'm having to work my butt off everyday to be assertive and provide discipline for these kids. I've lived my entire life as a doormat, letting everyone walk all over me. I'm learning quickly that doormats don't make it in places like this. It's been so hard for me to remember that discipline is part of Love.&lt;br /&gt;So if anyone ever feels like praying for me, pray that God shows me how to be assertive. These kids need structure and discipline more that anything, because most of them have never had it, so pray that God shows me how to provide that for the kids. Pray that God gives me the boldness and courage I need to be affective.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-112861985721727711?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/112861985721727711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=112861985721727711' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112861985721727711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112861985721727711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/10/life-in-rolla.html' title='Life in Rolla'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17327154.post-112813935913614631</id><published>2005-09-30T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T23:20:25.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my first post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Hello Friends...it seems that all the cool kids have blogs these days and we all know how I want so badly to be cool, so i've decided to start one. So welcome and enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17327154-112813935913614631?l=rickibell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/feeds/112813935913614631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17327154&amp;postID=112813935913614631' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112813935913614631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17327154/posts/default/112813935913614631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rickibell.blogspot.com/2005/09/my-first-post.html' title='my first post'/><author><name>Ricki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08933386757816906477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
