<?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-6898026417092596910</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:41:18.822-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bo Knows</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-4477664617560335638</id><published>2007-09-03T07:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:22.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spare...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I will be away for a few days starting tomorrow.  Afterwards, I hope to continue in sharing the places and faces of the journey.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;These past few months have been incredible!  Thank you all for allowing me to stumble through this thing called life.  Your love, support, and encouragement empowers me to keep going.  Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It has truly been an honor.  After six weeks or so, I think we're just starting to know one another.  Isn't that such a cool thing?  We really have begun with the hard work of the soul.  Where do we go from here?  Who knows?  But, I like the direction we're headed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;While I'm away, please feel free to come over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Stay at the house as long as you would like. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have sweet tea &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtwCWtMgPsI/AAAAAAAAAJc/jNKPvkuSQz8/s1600-h/monopoly_speed_die.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 91px; height: 65px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtwCWtMgPsI/AAAAAAAAAJc/jNKPvkuSQz8/s200/monopoly_speed_die.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105958666643717826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the fridge, chocolate chip cookies in the freezer, and four different kinds of cereal in the cupboard.  Movies and board games are in the entertainment console.  Playing cards and poker chips are in the closet just off the living room.  Towels and sheets are clean and ready.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you're over, feel free to discover all you want.  Search, plunder, investigate... it's all good!  There's noting off limits.  I'll even leave my high school yearbooks out on the bottom shelf in my bedroom.  You can find out all kinds of stuff about me there!  Just please keep this information to yourself.  There's no reason for mom and dad to find out, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe bring over a journal and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;jot down a few &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;comments before you leave. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wait. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;How's this? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll leave a journal behind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtwCntMgPtI/AAAAAAAAAJk/FV_QU-JRaWw/s1600-h/journal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 65px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtwCntMgPtI/AAAAAAAAAJk/FV_QU-JRaWw/s200/journal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105958958701493970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This way everyone who comes by could say a few things just before they leave.  I'll even leave my new journal for you guys.  It only dates back to July, but I think you'll enjoy!  If so, maybe write a bit at bottom of each page.  Sound good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Important.  The spare key is under the rug.  It's the only one I have.  So, just after you unlock the door, please place the key back in its hiding place.  Don't lose it or forget!  We need to give total access to everyone.  If you guys all show up at the same time, have a party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you guys will like what I've done with the place!  Let's talk again very soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love to you all.  ONE LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-4477664617560335638?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/4477664617560335638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=4477664617560335638' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4477664617560335638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4477664617560335638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/09/spare.html' title='Spare...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtwCWtMgPsI/AAAAAAAAAJc/jNKPvkuSQz8/s72-c/monopoly_speed_die.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-6412640130300198668</id><published>2007-08-29T08:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T16:29:13.249-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My sister and I have the occasional conversation about "home."  Most of the time we're just catching up, sharing some funny stories, asking about mutual friends.  Then this topic of "home" surfaces.  I'm not sure why it winds its way into our time together.  Or how for the matter.  It simply does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that ever happen with you?  Can you trace its path?  Weird, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a sample of the statements and questions Amy and I frequently share.  "I miss home.  I am going home this weekend.  When are you coming home?  Man, things here are just not like home!  I wish I could just go home and forget all about it."  Do these ring a bell with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past few days, I've been thinking a lot about this topic.  "Home" is such a powerful place.  It's almost like a force to be reckoned with.  Right?  So, it's imperative that we begin to define what we exactly mean when using the word... home. Here's a question for you.  What is home?  Who is home?  Where is home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great questions.  We'll come back to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was thinking about home and its meaning, I remembered a quote that I saw at the &lt;a href="http://www.guinness-storehouse.com/"&gt;Guinness Storehouse&lt;/a&gt; in Dublin.  If you're visiting Ireland and have the chance to take this tour, please do so.  It's quite incredible.  Anyway, a huge quote lined one of the massive walls and burned an imagine into my memory.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.&lt;/span&gt;"  Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I received a email from a good friend.  Inside was a conversation with his wife about the meaning of... home.  I couldn't believe it!  How's that for timing, eh?  Anyway, I wanted to share with all of you a sample of what was said.  Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"And yet, maybe home in not really about geography or air quality, or moonlight, or being in the city or out of the city, or in a red state or blue state, or in a music town or a working class town.  Maybe home has more to do with the work we've all done as individuals to increasingly become people we can live with.  Maybe home is the desire to live soulfully, the tiny ongoing decisions we make that allow the soul room to breathe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A few interesting descriptions of this place called home.  And yet, I wonder what you think of home.  What is it exactly?  Who is included?  Where does it exist?  I'd love your help!  Talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-6412640130300198668?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/6412640130300198668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=6412640130300198668' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/6412640130300198668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/6412640130300198668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/home.html' title='Home...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-5746871009369601761</id><published>2007-08-28T09:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:23.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guarantee...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQz3NMgPoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/GtAeJCQrCO4/s1600-h/23272407.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 67px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQz3NMgPoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/GtAeJCQrCO4/s200/23272407.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103761301245542018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's just about time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You sense it in the air. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You feel it in your bones.  Your sleeping patterns begin to shift.  The anticipation is palpable.  With one turn of the switch the atmosphere changes.  You know what I'm talking about!  It's Friday night lights...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In South Georgia, nothing compares, nor competes with high school football.  It's more than a sport.  It's more than tradition.  It's a way of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let me explain.  My hometown, Waycross (GA), is comfortably nestled in Ware County.  This isn't as strange as it may seem.  Every county is made up of smaller cities or regions.  Therefore, in South Georgia, most schools take on the name of the county.  Ware County has approximately 30,000 residents.  Our stadium, Memorial Stadium, seats about 10,000.  So, I'm no math major, but it seems like that's a third.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;One third?  Yep!  On any given (Friday) night, the stadium will be packed to the rafters.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ0h9MgPpI/AAAAAAAAAJE/mKCcnl1_RWY/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 85px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ0h9MgPpI/AAAAAAAAAJE/mKCcnl1_RWY/s200/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103762035684949650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Over 10,000 will descend on Memorial Stadium to root on the beloved Ware Co. Gators.  The city stops on Friday nights.  The Gators are front page news.  If you want to find out what happened in the rest of the world, g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;et another paper!  Or better yet, go live somewhere else.  Welcome to the Swamp!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now that you have the plot in mind, let me introduce the remaining 20,000 residents to an alternative.  How about &lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/Friday_Night_Lights/"&gt;Friday Night Lights&lt;/a&gt;?  What?  That's right... Friday Night Lights.  But dude, I already told you I wasn't going!  I know.  I'm speaking of a different team that is coming every Friday night.  A team that allows you to follow from the comforts of your own home.  A team that will steal your heart.  A team that will inspire you to greatness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today, you can become a fan of the Dillon Panthers.  In an &lt;a href="http://www.fnlguarantee.com/"&gt;unprecedent&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fnlguarantee.com/"&gt;ed move&lt;/a&gt; for television, if you don't become a fanatical follower of the Dillon Panthers you can simply get back the price for admission!  If the team fails to inspire you, fire them at no cost.  If the team loses you, quit and get back what you've put in.  Has there ever been an opportunity like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me ask you.  Have you ever wanted to coach high school football? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ049MgPqI/AAAAAAAAAJM/_rAGxwPg0fg/s1600-h/friday-night-lights.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 81px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ049MgPqI/AAAAAAAAAJM/_rAGxwPg0fg/s200/friday-night-lights.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103762430821940898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ever wanted to be the head man? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Have you ever thought of being the starting quarterback or star tailback?  Have you been the second string before and hoped for a chance to prove yourself?  Ever wanted to recover that game changing fumble?  Or thought of taking that interception all the way back to the house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; you've been a cheerleader. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ1KdMgPrI/AAAAAAAAAJU/2kiXc00R_X4/s1600-h/285.fri.night.kelly.120106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 79px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQ1KdMgPrI/AAAAAAAAAJU/2kiXc00R_X4/s200/285.fri.night.kelly.120106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103762731469651634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Or maybe you've always wondered what it's like to be one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe you're the spouse of a coach.  Maybe you're the parent of a high school athlete.  Maybe you're a teacher and understand the pressure that is placed on you by high school football in small town USA.  Maybe you're just a fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever you are and whatever you have dreamed about, it's possible in Friday Night Lights.  Trust me... I haven't missed a single episode.  Today, go out and purchase "The First Season."  Prepare yourself for the start of Season Two.  Or tune in to the Friday Night Lights marathon on September 1, starting at 8/7c.  Then tune in when TV's best drama returns for The Second Season on Friday, October 5!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me.  You'll be hooked.  You'll also find yourself loving a pretty cool character named Bo.  That wouldn't be the first time... would it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-5746871009369601761?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/5746871009369601761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=5746871009369601761' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5746871009369601761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5746871009369601761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/guarantee.html' title='Guarantee...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RtQz3NMgPoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/GtAeJCQrCO4/s72-c/23272407.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-5208214202547874212</id><published>2007-08-23T09:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:23.941-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Walls...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Look up!  You're probably staring at a few walls just now.  We can't get away from them.  They are everywhere... in our homes, our coffee shops, our theaters, our jobs, etc.  Which got me thinking about the purposes behind these walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Structure, strength, security, safety, privacy... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a pretty good list to start off with. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't know about you, but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2bc9MgPlI/AAAAAAAAAIk/pwY_2m91B20/s1600-h/mixbathrooms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 106px; height: 80px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2bc9MgPlI/AAAAAAAAAIk/pwY_2m91B20/s200/mixbathrooms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101904874646290002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I vastly enjoy a wall or two when visiting the wash room.  Could you imagine one without stalls (or walls) of some kind?  If so, pleas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;e resist the urge to elaborate!  We probably all like our privacy in this arena.  Don't you just love the public places that blast the music loud through the busted speakers?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we've definitely made our case for the existence of walls.  Most of us will probably agree that walls provide a much needed space for humanity.  Can we imagine a life without these places?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if we were to flip this sucker on its head?  What if we brought this conversation a little closer to home?  What if these same walls were used not just to protect, but to divide?  What if our walls could talk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Would they speak a different voice other than yours?  Would they share our fears and insecurities with the rest of the world?  Would they testify that the person they know at home is different when accompanied by friends and/or family?  What would they say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I believe they would come to our defense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;They would share freely how most of us spend our days not trying to resurrect &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;new walls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;but trying to tear down long, existing walls.  Many of us built walls &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2bvdMgPmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZNj19hxb0Nk/s1600-h/berlin-wall-east-side-gallery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 77px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2bvdMgPmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZNj19hxb0Nk/s200/berlin-wall-east-side-gallery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101905192473869922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in our childhood before we could physically pick up a brick.  Where's the justice in that?  Maybe walls were formed in our subconscious after being hurt in a close relationship?  Maybe we didn't know how to survive without compartmentalizing our lives?  So many questions.  Such little time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this the other day.  Immediately, I wanted to share this with all of you.  I think you'll like it... I hope anyway.  Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Sometimes people put up walls not to keep others out... But to see who cares enough to tear them down."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In a society dominated by the fascination of walls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;maybe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;we could &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;lend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2cFtMgPnI/AAAAAAAAAI0/SH2tiIv1EE0/s1600-h/GreatWall1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 80px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2cFtMgPnI/AAAAAAAAAI0/SH2tiIv1EE0/s200/GreatWall1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101905574725959282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a hand in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;tearing them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The walls of our present world are constructed differently from the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Wall_of_China"&gt;Great Wall of China&lt;/a&gt; or the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berlin_Wall"&gt;Berlin Wall&lt;/a&gt;.  They look completely different from the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Curtain"&gt;Iron Curtain&lt;/a&gt;. They are more subversive.  Yet, they are equally destructive. I need your help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to us caring enough for our present world to pick up the sledgehammers of service and sacrifice!  May we all be... wall bangers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-5208214202547874212?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/5208214202547874212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=5208214202547874212' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5208214202547874212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5208214202547874212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/walls.html' title='Walls...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rs2bc9MgPlI/AAAAAAAAAIk/pwY_2m91B20/s72-c/mixbathrooms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-8496286471965206618</id><published>2007-08-22T08:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:24.622-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Universal: Rewired...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I should warn you.  This entry may not be the easiest to read.  It also may not produce vines of encouragement in which to grab hold of.  What I can promise you is this.  In the game of hide and seek, you'll eventually be found.  If not, what's the point in playing.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let me introduce you to my newest companion.  I'm sure you've met him before! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsxcPNMgPiI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Jhd2HScJ_8A/s1600-h/Aladdin-Mask.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 49px; height: 83px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsxcPNMgPiI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Jhd2HScJ_8A/s200/Aladdin-Mask.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101553894213828130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe you've run into him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;when leaving a particular movie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe you've seen him outside the stadiu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;m gates just after the big game?  He may have even been in your liv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ing room a time or two.  Possibly after watching the latest season finale of y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;our favorite show?  Or maybe he's come closer.  Perhaps you've encountered him with a good friend or family member?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointment, say hello to my friends.  Ah, yes!  You already know him very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If you're like me, you really struggle with Disappointment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsxceNMgPjI/AAAAAAAAAIU/YPCHOc1GVbQ/s1600-h/masks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 79px; height: 66px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsxceNMgPjI/AAAAAAAAAIU/YPCHOc1GVbQ/s200/masks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101554151911865906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's like he's a master m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;agician... you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;never really know what "face" he's put on.  He always seems to be wearing a different outfit each time you see him.  His many disguises surprise you.  His motivation- confusing at best.  After all, he's just one tough dude to tie down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Personally, I hate Disappointment!  It's one thing to let yourself down.  Of course, that sucks.  It's another thing when you disappoint someone close to your heart.  Regardless &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;of how long they've held this "inside" position, to disappoint them is to chisel away at the very foundation of your being.  It can change everything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I still vividly remember a few times that I completely disappointed m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;y parents&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rsxc09MgPkI/AAAAAAAAAIc/8CDFUlLRO2U/s1600-h/mardi_gras_mask.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rsxc09MgPkI/AAAAAAAAAIc/8CDFUlLRO2U/s200/mardi_gras_mask.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101554542753889858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;  The look, the one where they'v&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;e just discovered "D", is menacing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;At this point, wallowing in my own disappointment never crossed my mind.  Was I disappointed in my actions?  Yes.  However, I was more concerned with what "D" would do... the lasting impact he would have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I disappointed a close friend.  I feel horrible as a result.  I wish there was some way to go back and change the events of yesterday.  As we all know, there's not.  I can only hope that time and forgiveness will create a beautiful mess of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm currently struggling to make sense of it somehow.  Remembering, reliving, retracing... you know the feeling.  It was the first time my friend associated me with Big D.  Of course, there wasn't the false expectations that I would never hurt or disappoint him.  It was just the first time.  That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which got me thinking.  When do you reach a place in love or in friendship that is able to cope with Disappointment?  How do we respond when he crashes the party?  How do we navigate through him?  If we can't keep him away from the party, can we live in such a way that honors or minimizes his presence?  Can we turn him from hated enemy to trusted ally?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could the universal ache of Disappointment lead us into greater capacities of love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-8496286471965206618?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/8496286471965206618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=8496286471965206618' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8496286471965206618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8496286471965206618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/universal-ache.html' title='Universal: Rewired...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsxcPNMgPiI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Jhd2HScJ_8A/s72-c/Aladdin-Mask.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-5073222630820192686</id><published>2007-08-17T07:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:24.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Universal...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Greetings and salutations.  I've missed you.  It's good to be back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing a new post on Friday is like releasing a new book on Dec. 26th.  Regardless of how thought provoking or enticing, the timing is just a little off.  Perhaps I should wait until Monday.  Where's the fun in that?  This is a blog for Christ sake, not a book release!  Heck, let's go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I love to travel.  It's no secret.  Why?  Probably because I'm obsessed with people, with culture, with diversity, with ethnicity, and with expression.  There is something fascinating in the language, in the music, in the rhythm of a new place.  Wouldn't you agree?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about the colors?  Have you ever stopped long enough to notice?  Each place has its own beauty.  Each has its own vibe.  Each its own colors. The colors normally tell the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsWf9NMgPeI/AAAAAAAAAHs/nY0w4Qm5vIE/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsWf9NMgPeI/AAAAAAAAAHs/nY0w4Qm5vIE/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099658026929896930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've had the opportunity to travel to many cities throughout the U.S.  I've also spent significant time in various countries.  These experiences have taught me invaluable tru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ths and widely opened my worldview.  The people, along the way, have empowered me to dream and have helped in shaping my values and belief system.  The young boy who grew up in small town USA has now been influenced by New York, L.A., Denver, Chicago, Atlant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a, Belfast, Dublin, London, Glasgow, Toronto, etc.  I forgot to mention the mid-size cities in Mexico and France... you get the point!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, these young eyes have seen a lot of colors and lots of customs.  I've learned that "tradition" can be quite intoxicating.  I've experienced new forms or art everywhere I've been.  I've danced new dances, sung new songs, and eaten new foods.  I've also encountered the beauty of diversity.  I've worn different clothes, communicated in different languages, and loved in different ways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each place is unique all unto itself.  Each city affords a different experience.  Each people group provides a special memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsWlndMgPhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4Vc0TsrZ4y0/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsWlndMgPhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4Vc0TsrZ4y0/s400/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099664250337508882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And yet, what I have learned more than anything else, is that people everywhere are not that dissimilar from one another.  We all have the same starving needs in our hearts.  The need to be loved, to be accepted, to be believed in, to be understood.  This universal aching is how we are hard-wired.  Maybe the Creator really did know what he was doing.  More than anything else, we are wired for connectivity and community.  How awesome is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-5073222630820192686?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/5073222630820192686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=5073222630820192686' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5073222630820192686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5073222630820192686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/universal.html' title='Universal...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RsWf9NMgPeI/AAAAAAAAAHs/nY0w4Qm5vIE/s72-c/Picture+1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-640819698888464086</id><published>2007-08-12T19:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T22:13:07.271-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Simmering...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Just a quick note to let all of you know that I will be out of the blog world for the next few days.  However, please feel free to probe, question, discuss, debate, protest, vent, or simply enjoy the previous posts.  Look for a new entry around the middle of the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems as if I brought the pot to a boil with the Porn debate.  I thought I'd let it simmer while I was away.  That being said, I'm trying to approach life with this same "simmering" mentality.  The good stuff just takes time, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my absence, live well and go deep.  Risk it.  See what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-640819698888464086?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/640819698888464086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=640819698888464086' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/640819698888464086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/640819698888464086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/simmering.html' title='Simmering...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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-6898026417092596910.post-7629463344894677089</id><published>2007-08-10T07:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:25.574-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intersection: Revisited...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Only two of you reserved a seat for tonight.  Tickets at the door are $15.  Let's see, I guess I'll start a tab.  When you come, just ask them to put it on my name.  Heck, grab a beer while you're at it.  I'll treat you guys tonight.  Thanks again for coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxYRTKx9UI/AAAAAAAAAHE/ahQ--YjAb80/s1600-h/1054836048_916b013bc4_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 70px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxYRTKx9UI/AAAAAAAAAHE/ahQ--YjAb80/s200/1054836048_916b013bc4_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097045932503070018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;For those just coming in, we're here for "The Great Porn Debate."  Why?  Pornography is a multi-billion (yes, that's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;right, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;billion) dolla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;r industry in the United States alone, but serious discussion of the issue is rare.  Is it degrading to women, or empowering?  Is it an addictive and destructive habit, or a window to a fun fantasy world?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In this intelligent and multi-faceted debate, all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; aspects of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxYzzKx9WI/AAAAAAAAAHU/vTB0c_f3Tzw/s1600-h/1053975667_8dba6aa58a_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 53px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxYzzKx9WI/AAAAAAAAAHU/vTB0c_f3Tzw/s200/1053975667_8dba6aa58a_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097046525208556898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Pornography issue are dis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;cussed and examined.  A question and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;answer ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;is built into the debate to provide interaction with the audience.  Just text the word porndebate followed by your question to 66937.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lights have dimmed.  The introductions have been made.  Let's get it on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moderator asks C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;raig Gross (Porn Pastor) to start.  Craig has fifteen minutes for his opening statement.  I wondered why Craig is starting.  That question is answered two minutes into the debate.  Gross is immediately interrupted by Jeremy. Ron tells us why it in necessary for Craig to go first.  Why?  Jeremy has no issue with Gross, his message, nor his method.  He is actually quite grateful for the work Gross is doing.  He, too, hopes that the people who want out of the industry have an outlet. Therefore, he respects Craig and the work of his ministry.  Not exactly how I thought it would start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The debate continues.  Craig makes his opening statements passionately.  You can tell this isn't his first rodeo.  He speaks of the dire consequences of pornography abuse.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxZDjKx9XI/AAAAAAAAAHc/wMaNVFVTxnY/s1600-h/1054835334_7f3935ff83_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 83px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxZDjKx9XI/AAAAAAAAAHc/wMaNVFVTxnY/s200/1054835334_7f3935ff83_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097046795791496562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gross explains that pornography desensiti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;zes us in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;subtle ways.  He explains why it portrays false expectations for "real" couples.  He talks about the grueling preparation it takes for these "athletes."  I never knew such exercises existed!  He shares how over 13,000 hardcore films were made in the last year alone.  He also details the average age for pornography abuse.  I was shocked... 12-17 years old.  I thought porn was only for those over the age of 18.  He concludes with facts from previous "stars" who have come out of the industry about the ways in which it damages them.  His opinion, pornography is degrading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy's turn.  Ron has multiple degrees and speaks with an articulation that caught&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; me by surprise.  Immediately, you can tell that this dude knows what he's talking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He follows  Craig's path to a tee.  Ron addresses Craig's statements point by point.  He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxZczKx9YI/AAAAAAAAAHk/yR_xevMpG8w/s1600-h/1054835720_9203ad09be_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 85px; height: 153px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxZczKx9YI/AAAAAAAAAHk/yR_xevMpG8w/s200/1054835720_9203ad09be_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097047229583193474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;breaks out facts from news articles and researched materials. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;shares that violent games that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;kids play are the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;reasons behind a desensitized youth culture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He says that porn enables couples to be creative and role play.  He has many letters from people whose marriages had become stale... at least in the bedroom.  He is adamant that pornography is made by consenting adults for consenting adults.  He shares how the industry is taking responsible steps to ensure its audience is 18 and over.  Lastly, Ron talks at length about how porn has empowered women.  He throws out thirty or so names... the Porn Stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for a little Q&amp;amp;A.  The questions start off like you might expect.  Has Gross ever seen pornography?  What's his Christian opinion of masturbation?  How many times are the people involved in porn tested?  You get the drill.  However, towards the end of the night, a bomb is dropped!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asked to both parties, "In your opinion wouldn't you agree that Religion has actually damaged more people than Pornography?"  A few claps by the audience.  Then the crowd grows silent.  Gross steps up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait.  Maybe I should give the question to you before giving you the outcome?  Yeah, let's do that.  Take a stab at it.  Give us your thoughts. Let's see what we think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-7629463344894677089?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/7629463344894677089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=7629463344894677089' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7629463344894677089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7629463344894677089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/intersection-revisited.html' title='Intersection: Revisited...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrxYRTKx9UI/AAAAAAAAAHE/ahQ--YjAb80/s72-c/1054836048_916b013bc4_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-833312977712672969</id><published>2007-08-09T09:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:26.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intersection...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsntDKx9TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/U3BjJnAqVCk/s1600-h/IMG_3169.JPG"&gt;&lt;span class="down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 111px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsntDKx9TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/U3BjJnAqVCk/s200/IMG_3169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096711058197968178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tuesday night.  What did you do?  I probably should have been doing the same.  However, I found myself sitting in the round with unfamiliar people and an uncomfortable topic.  I went early to check it out.  After an hour of waiting for the show to begin, I wasn't sure how I ended up there in the first place.  But, the bracelet they gave me at the door whispered that I should stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lights ca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;me up.  It was time for "&lt;a href="http://www.porndebate.com/"&gt;The Great Porn Debate&lt;/a&gt;."  You probably weren't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;quite ready for that!  I'll pause for a minute and let you catch your breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could I miss this match-up?  Ron "Porn King" Jeremy vs. Craig "Porn Pastor" Gross.  I mean already you wish you were there right?  A king versus a pastor... some of you have been waiting your entire life for this.  You may even pay much more than $10 to see a pastor squirm around the difficult issue of pornography.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I want to introduce you to the debaters involved.  I want you to feel free to research and discover all that you can about Ron Jeremy and Craig Gross.  Get to know them.  Let them become friends in some ways.  Tomorrow, I will share my thoughts on the incredible night.  We'll have the weekend to discuss this heavy, controversial issue.  Sound good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsnBzKx9RI/AAAAAAAAAGs/zb-SFnzuT1A/s1600-h/Picture+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 89px; height: 106px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsnBzKx9RI/AAAAAAAAAGs/zb-SFnzuT1A/s200/Picture+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096710315168625938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Craig Gross.  As a young pastor in Southern California, Craig Gross began to notice a recurring theme among those he cared for - a struggle with pornography. Boldly and courageously, he decided to address the roo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;t of the problem, so he went to the porn industry to ask some questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This passion led him to start &lt;a href="http://xxxchurch.com/"&gt;XXXchurch. com&lt;/a&gt;, a website devoted to telling the truth about porn. XXXchurch.com is the largest anti-porn website on the Internet. With over 70 million visitors in the first 4 years and an average now of 1 million visitors a month, XXXchurch is exposing the truth about porn. Craig Gross has also provided a way out of the porn industry for those that feel trapped and want to escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craig Gross has written 4 books and is a sought after speaker across the country. He lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan with his wife Jeanette and their two kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsnVjKx9SI/AAAAAAAAAG0/6sWk0W8r0DY/s1600-h/Picture+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 89px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsnVjKx9SI/AAAAAAAAAG0/6sWk0W8r0DY/s200/Picture+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096710654471042338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Jeremy"&gt;Ron Jeremy&lt;/a&gt;.  He is the world's best known adult film star, appearing in over 1800 films and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; directing more than 100 more. He is equally well known for his appearances in mainstream media, including VH-1's The Surreal Life. Sometimes called the "clown prince" of Porn, Ron is actually quite informed and articulate on the subject and his industry's practices to keep it safe and responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born in New York, Ron taught High School special education before getting into adult films, and has a master's degree from Queens College. Ron's adult films and mainstream work have earned him an incredibly loyal legion of fans worldwide, and enabled him to reach a level of celebrity unsurpassed in the history of pornography.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you have it.  You are officially in the round with me now.  What will follow?  Come back tomorrow.  Please let me know today if you're willing to come with me.  I'll cover the $10 entry fee for ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-833312977712672969?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/833312977712672969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=833312977712672969' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/833312977712672969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/833312977712672969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/intersection.html' title='Intersection...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrsntDKx9TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/U3BjJnAqVCk/s72-c/IMG_3169.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-4318885321505428066</id><published>2007-08-08T01:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:26.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>58...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrlZFjKx9OI/AAAAAAAAAGU/XaN8YjOfxMQ/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrlZFjKx9OI/AAAAAAAAAGU/XaN8YjOfxMQ/s400/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096202405221102818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today is my father's 58th birthday.  So, in his honor... here are the top 58 reasons (in no particular order) why I love my dad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58.  He drives with his knee.&lt;br /&gt;57.  He likes unsweetened tea.&lt;br /&gt;56.  He makes sweet tea when I come home.&lt;br /&gt;55.  He'll answer to "Ruby."&lt;br /&gt;54.  When ordering food he always says "that'll be all."&lt;br /&gt;53.  He's a good card player.&lt;br /&gt;52.  He drives fast.&lt;br /&gt;51.  He loses his patience every now and then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;50.  He loves God.&lt;br /&gt;49.  He is the master on a grill.&lt;br /&gt;48.  He actually likes to cut the grass.&lt;br /&gt;47.  He has more UGA shirts than anyone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I know.&lt;br /&gt;46.  He can talk with like Donald Duck.&lt;br /&gt;45.  He's worked over 30 years at E&amp;E.&lt;br /&gt;44.  He shot the course record at Sawgrass on PGA Tour Golf.&lt;br /&gt;43.  He likes to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;42.  He hates to lose.&lt;br /&gt;41.  He's like MacGyver with a roll of duck tape (my football pants...).&lt;br /&gt;40.  He prays for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;39.  He is a good friend.&lt;br /&gt;38.  He stocks the pantry full of goodies for my sister and I.&lt;br /&gt;37.  He watched wrestling with me and pretended to be a real fan.&lt;br /&gt;36.  He loves my Stepmother, Nancy.&lt;br /&gt;35.  He's a great Papa.&lt;br /&gt;34.  He's a generous man.&lt;br /&gt;33.  He made vacation the highlight of the summer.&lt;br /&gt;32.  He's still a Braves fan after all these years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;31.  He has found a way to be lovingly firm.&lt;br /&gt;30.  He set boundaries for me.&lt;br /&gt;29.  He teaches me how to love.&lt;br /&gt;28.  He once caught me listening to 2 Live Crew in the laundromat.&lt;br /&gt;27.  He's overcome some hard times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;26.  He let me ride 3 wheelers in Douglas... to the chagrin of my mother.&lt;br /&gt;25.  He always gave me $20 for the movies.&lt;br /&gt;24.  He never asked for cash back.&lt;br /&gt;23.  He's loved my friends... especially Big D.&lt;br /&gt;22.  He loves my sister, Amy.&lt;br /&gt;21.  He values family.&lt;br /&gt;20.  He's been to Six Flags more times than any other f&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ather.&lt;br /&gt;19.  He's a good son.&lt;br /&gt;18.  He re-introduced me to Spirituality.&lt;br /&gt;17.  He pitched the ball right into my sweet spot.&lt;br /&gt;16.  He finally got another dog after all these years.&lt;br /&gt;15.  He believes in exercise... NordicTrack style.&lt;br /&gt;14.  He didn't kill me for all the stupid things I've done.&lt;br /&gt;13.  He helped me build one of the finest basebal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;l card collections ever.&lt;br /&gt;12.  He believes in the innate goodness of people.&lt;br /&gt;11.  He believes in me.&lt;br /&gt;10.  He's knows this is my favorite number.&lt;br /&gt;09.  He's been married to a UF fan for many years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;08.  He let me win as a child.&lt;br /&gt;07.  He tried to hammer me as a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;06.  He still collects pennies.&lt;br /&gt;05.  He taught me how to drive.&lt;br /&gt;04.  He likes chocolate and ice cream... even together.&lt;br /&gt;03.  He gave me his name... kind of!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;02.  He loved me first.&lt;br /&gt;01.  Because he's my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you dad!  Happy 58th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrlZSzKx9PI/AAAAAAAAAGc/pZdjO7lsfII/s1600-h/Picture+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrlZSzKx9PI/AAAAAAAAAGc/pZdjO7lsfII/s400/Picture+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096202632854369522" 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/6898026417092596910-4318885321505428066?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/4318885321505428066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=4318885321505428066' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4318885321505428066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4318885321505428066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/58.html' title='58...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrlZFjKx9OI/AAAAAAAAAGU/XaN8YjOfxMQ/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-2634872940915023681</id><published>2007-08-07T06:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:27.111-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bridges...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Most of us, if not all, have seen the video footage by now.  We watched in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhhpDKx9JI/AAAAAAAAAFs/HSVF0VVQ4D8/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 85px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhhpDKx9JI/AAAAAAAAAFs/HSVF0VVQ4D8/s200/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095930336222770322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;horror.  We quickly realized this was not a scene from Live Free or Die Hard.  This was actual events being recorded in actual time.  The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mississippi River will never look the same again.  For me, I will always see images of the people, their cars, and a collapsed bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The other day, I read a few articles about the Twin Cities calamity.   One of the articles was written by a local pastor.  He had some pretty strong things to say.  Most of which, I disagreed with.  However, he made one statement that has stayed with me.  It's been kind of eating away at me.  You know the feeling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what he said.  "The word 'bri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;dge' does not occur in the Bible.  There may be two reasons.  One is that God doesn't build bridges, he divides seas.  The other is that usually his people pass through the deadly currents of suffering and death, not simply ride over them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now, I'm not sure I really like his reasons.  They are his opinions and he's defin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;itely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; entitled &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhiEjKx9KI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ttuN8FpJqTI/s1600-h/RamaIX-mr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 86px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhiEjKx9KI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ttuN8FpJqTI/s200/RamaIX-mr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095930808669172898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;to them.  However, I do find this information about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;bridges fascinating.  I'm not shocked about the exclusion of the word from the Bible.  I'm more intrigued with the concept. Did bridges not exist in biblical times?  Were they nowhere in the physical world?  Have we created a term (bridging) that suites our penchant for passing over?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a friend of this blog, you will know that we spoke a bit about this last week.  Perhaps the entry "&lt;a href="http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/collide.html"&gt;Collide&lt;/a&gt;" wasn't just some random conversation.  Maybe the film Crash, written in 2004, was correct in its foreshadowing.  Maybe now we can hear these words and be moved by them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me ask you.  In relationships, is it better to build a bridge for your partner or to go through the situation with him/her?  In friendships, is your role to help get that friend out of the mess he's in?  Or to be there for him mess and all?  In love, is it better to skip over the common things or take the time to build a secure foundation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhicDKx9LI/AAAAAAAAAF8/Z1K45-QzYDg/s1600-h/humber_bridge_shot1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 98px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhicDKx9LI/AAAAAAAAAF8/Z1K45-QzYDg/s200/humber_bridge_shot1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095931212396098738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;May we all be reminded with every bridge we pass over, that there is another option.  May we remember that being a good friend isn't always about having the answer, it's about being there.  May we stop trying so hard to build bridges.  In turn, my our energies be used to lay some pretty thick foundations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-2634872940915023681?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/2634872940915023681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=2634872940915023681' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2634872940915023681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2634872940915023681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/bridges.html' title='Bridges...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrhhpDKx9JI/AAAAAAAAAFs/HSVF0VVQ4D8/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-2171588163635211767</id><published>2007-08-03T07:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:27.564-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bourne...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"You listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you.  I remember.  I remember everything..."  Just in case you're not familiar with the Bourne series, that's not good for the bad guys.  Jason's coming. I'm not talking about Friday the 13th.  This is a different Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMe2zKx9GI/AAAAAAAAAFU/8j7cCWNb56k/s1600-h/Bourne-Ultimatum-Poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 65px; height: 84px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMe2zKx9GI/AAAAAAAAAFU/8j7cCWNb56k/s200/Bourne-Ultimatum-Poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094449530283357282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If you're like me, you're going to see the &lt;a href="http://www.thebourneultimatum.com/"&gt;Bourne Ultimatum&lt;/a&gt; this weekend.  Someti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;mes I like to hit the "before noon" film at the AMC on Saturday.  It's only four bucks!  How&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ever, some movies are opening night movies.  I think this one qualifies.  Maybe we should all see it tonight at the same time.  What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not just a Bourne fan either.  I'm a pretty big &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000354/"&gt;Matt Damon&lt;/a&gt; fan.  How about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been told by a few people over the years that I look like Matt.  Perhaps they meant that as a compliment.  I'm sure they didn't set out to be offensive.  Now, this isn't the worst thing anyone has ever said abo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ut me.  Don't get me wrong.  But, seriously, it's a pretty good blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMfKDKx9HI/AAAAAAAAAFc/27RTy98BBHA/s1600-h/link.matt.damon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 93px; height: 93px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMfKDKx9HI/AAAAAAAAAFc/27RTy98BBHA/s200/link.matt.damon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094449860995839090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let's look at the facts.  I'm far better looking than Matt, wouldn't you agree?  I'm taller... maybe not.  I have a much better accent (the Boston thing just gets old).  Body wise, I'm much more ripped.  And, I can definitely take him to town on the basketball court!  I'm not sur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;e I can dance around in my whitey's (The Talented Mr. Ripley) quite like him.  That's probably not such a bad thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;All in all, I'm still a huge fan of his work.  Good Will Hunting is one of my all time favorites.  It's gotta be in the top five.  Other titles include School Ties, The Rainmaker, Saving Private Ryan, Rounders, Ripley, Ocean's Eleven (Twelve &amp; Thirteen), Syriana, The Departed, The Good Shepherd, and the Bourne series.  It's alright if you missed All the Pretty Horses, Stuck on You, and The Brothers Grimm.  Confession... I did too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMfZzKx9II/AAAAAAAAAFk/q0fH_nNbYMw/s1600-h/bourne1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 93px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMfZzKx9II/AAAAAAAAAFk/q0fH_nNbYMw/s200/bourne1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094450131578778754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Damon simply is Jason Bourne.  He plays the role with precision and perfection.  There is no Bourne outside of Damon.  He allows you believe in a character most would dismiss.  There is an integrity that flows out of Bourne.  Matt causes you to root for this scarred man.  You're with him regardless of the price.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to buying a ticket and seeing the film!  Maybe you'll think of me when you see the Bourne Ultimatum.  Maybe you'll think of me when you see Matt Damon.  Maybe you'll actually write a comment about something today.  Maybe I'll come hunt you down if you don't.  I remember... I remember everything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-2171588163635211767?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/2171588163635211767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=2171588163635211767' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2171588163635211767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2171588163635211767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/bourne.html' title='Bourne...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrMe2zKx9GI/AAAAAAAAAFU/8j7cCWNb56k/s72-c/Bourne-Ultimatum-Poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-3659287654509583313</id><published>2007-08-02T09:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:27.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Imagine your perfect Sunday.  What happens?  Who are you with?  Where do you go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many, Sunday is a day of routine.  Though it varies in many households, Sundays are synonymous with good times.  How come?  The most obvious answer- it's a break from the dreaded work week.  For those who love their jobs, at least it's a break from appointments, meetings, and expectations.  After all, it's a day of spontaneity.  It's a day of enjoyment.  Sunday is a day of promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm still waiting to hear from you.  Perhaps you need a little help to design the perfect Sunday.  Sure, I'm here for that!  How about a list?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrHtrjKx9DI/AAAAAAAAAE8/gkfjuIBFA8U/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrHtrjKx9DI/AAAAAAAAAE8/gkfjuIBFA8U/s400/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094113985963357234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday activities include, but are not limited to, the following:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;sleeping in, brunch, a spiritual gathering, lunch with the extended family, a nap, a second nap immediately following the first one (you forgot to turn the ringer off), watching NFL games, a NASCAR race, the final round of the PGA tournament, a third nap (possibly during the golf), a few innings of baseball, the PBA tour (bowling for those curious), 60 Minutes, The Simpsons, a movie (hopefully not the made for tv kind), leftovers, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that you've got some ideas rolling around in that noggin of yours, let me clue you in on what the perfect Sunday must include.  It's a necessity.  You ready?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kill Point.  If you missed the first few hours, now is your chance for redemption.  After all, isn't that what Sunday is for sometimes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrHt3DKx9EI/AAAAAAAAAFE/2sia0olIMzU/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrHt3DKx9EI/AAAAAAAAAFE/2sia0olIMzU/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094114183531852866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kill_Point"&gt;Kill Point&lt;/a&gt; is a television series that follows a group of U.S. Marines recently returned from serving in Iraq as they come together to pull off a major bank heist of the Three Rivers Bank branch in Pittsburg, PA.  It's a fascinating look into the different perspectives of each person involved.  With layer upon layer and incredible character development... there's no possible way to escape.  You'll find yourself in the bank as a hostage, inside the psyche of the leading terrorist, on the phone as the negotiator, and everywhere in between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, don't miss it!  Spike TV, Sunday's at 9pm.  You can always catch the previous episode an hour before... Sunday, 8pm.  Don't believe me, give it a shot.  I promise you will not be disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still waiting for your perfect Sunday.  Get to it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-3659287654509583313?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/3659287654509583313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=3659287654509583313' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3659287654509583313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3659287654509583313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/sunday.html' title='Sunday...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrHtrjKx9DI/AAAAAAAAAE8/gkfjuIBFA8U/s72-c/Picture+2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-447806391673481549</id><published>2007-08-01T06:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:28.315-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Introduction...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Our world has changed.  As a result, society has suffered.  It wasn't always like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB6qjKx8_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/7JI7Eh3p9q0/s1600-h/Josie_9_weeks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 93px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB6qjKx8_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/7JI7Eh3p9q0/s200/Josie_9_weeks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093706049969583090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;There was a day, I'm told, when neighbors were viewed as family.  When the norm wa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;s to raise our children together, to share meals frequently, and to entertain one another with our lives.  There was a special bond that weaved through the entire neighborhood.  It's like this small part of the earth was ours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;After all, it was home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today, we see a different picture.  Why?  Great question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you could share your thoughts.  Maybe it has to do with the advancement of man.  Maybe the incredible inventions  over the last 100 years have something to say.  There was a time when people walked next door.  They now use the telephone.  There was a time when people spent entire nights laughing with their kids.  Now they watch television together.  There was a time when people relied on one another.  Now they use the internet.  There was a time when loans were given in go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;od faith.  Now we've created a society drenched in debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB7PTKx9AI/AAAAAAAAAEk/sRAlyYJem7c/s1600-h/Josie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 99px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB7PTKx9AI/AAAAAAAAAEk/sRAlyYJem7c/s200/Josie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093706681329775618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The pictures and stories, today, tell of a different world.  Most of us lock our doors at nig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ht.  Most of us don't really know our neighbors.  We may know their names and say hello, but I think you know what I'm talking about.  Most of us struggle to meet new people.  What about new friends?  Most of us are simply products of our society.  But, there's still hope!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually easier than you may think.  Sure, it requires a bit of effort.  However, it can be done.  Tracking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy... get a dog!  What?  That's insane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB7mzKx9BI/AAAAAAAAAEs/qhhwVgzozco/s1600-h/beanyard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 85px; height: 117px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB7mzKx9BI/AAAAAAAAAEs/qhhwVgzozco/s200/beanyard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093707085056701458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Trust me.  Over the past two years, I've been introduced to so many people through my dog.  Josie has opened conversations that would've never been started.  She has opened doors to homes that I wouldn't have set foot in.  She even has a way of propping my door open too.  She has been instrumental in helping strangers (neighbors) become good friends.  She's even helped introduce children to each other.  That's beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you've had trouble meeting new friends, go out and get a dog.  Walk her around your neighborhood.  Stop and say hello to others.  Let her introduce you.  Take her to the park.  She'll want to introduce you to even more potential friends.  Possibly find a dog park in your area.  Here she'll show off and you'll have lunch with a family and their dog(s).  It's really amazing.  I guess they really are "man's best friend" for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another option, have a child!  It requires just a bit more effort... especially if you have two or more at the same time.  Right Amy?  However, children also have a way of connecting us to others.  Maybe that's what God had in mind all along.  Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we discover that our world is a good place with many friends.  May our neighbors become family again.  May we open our homes to one another with more frequency.  And, may we continue to use the internet... sparingly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-447806391673481549?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/447806391673481549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=447806391673481549' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/447806391673481549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/447806391673481549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/08/introduction.html' title='Introduction...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RrB6qjKx8_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/7JI7Eh3p9q0/s72-c/Josie_9_weeks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-1117029735878825140</id><published>2007-07-30T09:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:28.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>United...</title><content type='html'>I once heard someone say, "We can discover the meaning of life in three different ways:  (1) by doing a deed;  (2) by experiencing a value; and (3) by suffering."  The first two sound pretty cool.  Suffering... I'm not sure I'm really into that.  You with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you know where this is headed.  You've grown tired of listening to the same scratched cd (kind of like a broken record for those over 50 who frequent the blog).  I'm not here to debate on whether we should hit the eject button.  Not many people like hearing an intoxicated Alvin and the Chipmunks.  I'm wondering if there's something else we could do?  Something to possibly restore the condition of the original...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's come back to this in a minute.  I've got a story for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rq34VDKx89I/AAAAAAAAAEM/pR6YWR1NDg0/s1600-h/trumpetchildsmall-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rq34VDKx89I/AAAAAAAAAEM/pR6YWR1NDg0/s200/trumpetchildsmall-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092999794137363410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Over the weekend, I pre-ordered The Trumpet Child (the latest album from one of the best bands of all time... &lt;a href="http://www.overtherhine.com/"&gt;Over The Rhine&lt;/a&gt;).  When you pre-order you also receive three free mp3's immediately, as well as exclusive extras.  How could you not pre-order? Right?  Anyway, I began to listen to each song closely.  Over The Rhine's songs are beautiful narratives evoking all of our senses.  Yes, it's quite the experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, something was different about these new songs.  Something was missing.  It was like you paused in mid sentence to listen to the song.  Then afterwards, carried on the conversation without ever losing place of where you were.  It was if the song never truly existed.  Wait.  What?  How could this be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has Over The Rhine continued along the same path as artists before them?  Sarah McLachlan, Alanis Morissette, Counting Crows, Stone Temple Pilots, Matthew Perryman Jones.  These are all fascinating artists whose music has dramatically changed over the years.  Why?  What's different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suffering"&gt;Suffering&lt;/a&gt;.  What do you mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's journey back.  Sarah's best albums were written in the dark years of her life.  Alanis' first few albums were a mixture of hurt, abuse, and neglect... but they rocked!  Counting Crows wrote from a place of searching and desperation until they found happiness.  Stone Temple Pilots-  recovery was good for Scott Weiland, but the same can't be said for the music.  It's like the best inspiration came out of the deepest pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more example.  Gladiator.  If you still have yet to see the film, please stop reading this blog.  I don't think it's gonna work out for us to be friends.  Seriously, look at the character of Maximus.  Would we remember the story if upon his arrival home, he simply became a good father, husband, and farmer?  Hmmm.  I think we all still see the same images here.  The ground is black, the dirt dry, he looks up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rq34pTKx8-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/zndL4aO-w9U/s1600-h/gladiator3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 83px; height: 101px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rq34pTKx8-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/zndL4aO-w9U/s200/gladiator3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093000142029714402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Suffering.  There's something strikingly beautiful about her.  Yet, so many people fail to truly see her in all her beauty.  She resonates within each one of us.  She stands at the door awaiting our invitation.  She has come tonight to unite.  That's her purpose.  Somehow, she finds a way to unite us all together.  And in the process, we're united with a Creator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to all of us who have embraced her as best we could.  May we have the strength to rely on each other arms.  May we find ourselves helping to bring restoration to the earth.  May  the cd's of our hearts find a way to be scratch-less as we unite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-1117029735878825140?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/1117029735878825140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=1117029735878825140' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/1117029735878825140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/1117029735878825140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/united.html' title='United...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rq34VDKx89I/AAAAAAAAAEM/pR6YWR1NDg0/s72-c/trumpetchildsmall-01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-8270507690227041731</id><published>2007-07-27T09:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T10:00:08.989-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Interpretation...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thought you had all the answers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;to rest your heart upon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;but something happens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;don't see if coming, now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;you can't stop yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there swimming...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Life keeps tumbling your heart in circles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;till you let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;till you shed your pride and you climb to heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;and you throw yourself off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there spinning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And now you're out there spinning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;now you're out there spinning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In the silence all your secrets will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;raise their worried heads&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;well, you can pin yourself back together,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;with who you thought you were&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there living...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In the deep...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there spinning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there swimming...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now you're out there spinning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;in the deep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(If you want to be given everything, give everything up)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A change of pace for us. I've been haunted by this &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_FRluQgYpI"&gt;song&lt;/a&gt; over the last few days. It's such an odd experience. Anyway, I thought I'd share this incredible piece of music. As you read, what thoughts come to mind? What strikes you? How do you feel? Where is the &lt;a href="http://www.birdyork.com"&gt;artist&lt;/a&gt; writing from? What does she want us to walk away with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So many questions. I'm asking for your perspective. Your interpretation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let's head in the deep together...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-8270507690227041731?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/8270507690227041731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=8270507690227041731' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8270507690227041731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8270507690227041731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/interpretation_7695.html' title='Interpretation...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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-6898026417092596910.post-4976496682569049894</id><published>2007-07-25T09:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:29.192-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Collide...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening lines, from one of the greatest movies of our lifetime, haunts me.  You see, the reality of truth displayed is not something that easily leaves.  It's not something that you can dismiss as "Hollywood" regardless of how hard you try.  Maybe it's different for you.  I just can't disassociate myself from truth... wherever I find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqdcLOY2_WI/AAAAAAAAAD8/_0C5FBXwrXw/s1600-h/crash_050605_big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 101px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqdcLOY2_WI/AAAAAAAAAD8/_0C5FBXwrXw/s200/crash_050605_big.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091139251676314978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This compelling urban thriller tracks the volatile intersection of a multi-ethnic cast o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;f characters struggling to overcome their fears as they careen in and out of one another's lives.  In a world that views truth in black and white, this film brings a new color the the forefront.  In my opinion, gray never looked so beautiful.  She's both thrilling and provocative!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question.  Has truth ever stared into your eyes like this before?  Have you ever experienced her compassion?  Her gentleness?  Her love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If not, why?  Is it that we're too comfortable to let her come near?  Is it that we're too selfish to welcome her over?  Too ignorant to let her teach us her ways?  Too lazy to change?  Or perhaps too busy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving at the speed of life, we are bound to collide with each other.  May we discover new ways to feel again.  May we all discover the magic cloak wrapped around our neck. And in the process, find ourselves willing to... &lt;a href="http://www.crashfilm.com/"&gt;Crash&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqdeXuY2_XI/AAAAAAAAAEE/qfDI8Kg6QTc/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 109px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqdeXuY2_XI/AAAAAAAAAEE/qfDI8Kg6QTc/s320/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091141665447935346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-4976496682569049894?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/4976496682569049894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=4976496682569049894' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4976496682569049894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4976496682569049894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/collide.html' title='Collide...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqdcLOY2_WI/AAAAAAAAAD8/_0C5FBXwrXw/s72-c/crash_050605_big.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-7587732241012658998</id><published>2007-07-24T07:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:29.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rivalry...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;What a great word!  It's a word closely associated with bravery, passion, and heroism.   Wow!  Can you feel it?  It's like being alive, free, fearless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Rivalry, in some way, keeps the earth balanced.  It enables us to experience the euphoric sensation of ultimate victory.  Man, is there a better feeling on earth?  However, as you know, a true rivalry isn't complete without defeat.  It also ensures us that we know the utter shock and subsequent pain of loss.  The agony can be crippling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Over the years, I've been asked on numerous occasions if I think the world is coming to an end.  Frequently, I would dismiss the thought of such a question.  Absolutely not!  However, as I have observed our little planet, I'm starting to think otherwise.  Perhaps this really is the beginning of the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Why the change?  Great question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Come to the observation deck.  Look around.  What do you see?  Or a better question.  What do you fail to see?  If you're like me, you become a bit frightened by the lack of balance on Mother Earth.  It's seems as though that which kept her level and spinning has suddenly disappeared into thin air.  How could this happen?  How do we capture it again?  Where do we find it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqYHq-Y2_VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/iEuu1h1_OUk/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqYHq-Y2_VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/iEuu1h1_OUk/s400/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090764863672089938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let's begin our search "back in the day"... the 80's.  Rivals were everywhere to be found. The Lakers vs. The Celtics. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;USC vs. Notre Dame.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Georgia vs. Florida.  Hagler vs. Hearns.   Marino vs. Montana.  Maverick vs. Iceman.  Biff vs. McLFy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Michael vs. Madonna.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;J.R. vs. Bobby.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Def Leppard vs. Poison.  Coke vs. Pepsi.  My personal favorite- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The Midnight Express vs. The Rock and Roll Express&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.  The Braves vs. themselves.  You get the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqYGPuY2_UI/AAAAAAAAADs/kF46_7X1WR4/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 54px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqYGPuY2_UI/AAAAAAAAADs/kF46_7X1WR4/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090763296009026882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Rivalry was a way of life.  It wasn't just on a national level.  In our &lt;a href="http://www.jacksonville.com/tu-online/stories/112303/dic_14117060.shtml"&gt;local towns and communities&lt;/a&gt;, look what happened when rivals would compete.  The place was a buzz with excitement, anticipation, and stories of legend from older generations.  There's nothing quite like it really.  Rivalry has a way of uniting people from all walks of life.  Rivalry is at the core of humanity.  It's foundational for survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you look across the landscape today- do you see the difference?  The past few decades have produced only a few great rivals.  Instead, as a society, we've moved beyond rivalry to a place of superior domination.  Names such as Lance, Tiger, and Federer only prove this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to reclaiming rivals and in the process helping Earth survive another day.  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waycross_High_School"&gt;Waycross&lt;/a&gt;... here's to saving the city. Bring back the rivalry for goodness sake.  Bells need to be hidden, mascots need to be stolen, and schools need to be painted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-7587732241012658998?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/7587732241012658998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=7587732241012658998' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7587732241012658998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7587732241012658998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/rivalry.html' title='Rivalry...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqYHq-Y2_VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/iEuu1h1_OUk/s72-c/Picture+2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-5359810249411483930</id><published>2007-07-23T07:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:30.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rhythm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Do you have it?  Can you spell it correctly?  It's such a funny word, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rhythm... What exactly is rhythm?  What images come to mind?  How does one go about finding it?  Great questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSiu-Y2_PI/AAAAAAAAADE/sf4VhjVavMY/s1600-h/golf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 94px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSiu-Y2_PI/AAAAAAAAADE/sf4VhjVavMY/s200/golf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090372406740450546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ched yesterday, in agony, as Sergio struggled to find her.  I heard a band last week who couldn't quite wrap thei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;r fingers around her either.  I saw a boxing match last month that didn't quite live up to the hype.  It reminded me of a party I recentl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;y attended.  There were moments of enjoyment... but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;something was missing.  It's hard to d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;escribe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You know the feeling.  Right?  It's almost as if there isn't any flow, any fluidity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSjOuY2_QI/AAAAAAAAADM/b4mmazTT1uE/s1600-h/Lie_Detector.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 76px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSjOuY2_QI/AAAAAAAAADM/b4mmazTT1uE/s200/Lie_Detector.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090372952201297154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;. This can be quite a difficult experience.  For example.  Have you ever visited your best fr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ien&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;s family?  Ever been home to meet the parents?  Ever had one of those big family reunio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;n ty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;pe things?  Or maybe a class reunion many years later?  Yeah... you know something about her too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rhythm... she's such a mystical, fascinating creature.  She sweeps you off of your feet one minute.  Then vanishes, leaving you without a trace of her whereabouts.  Why does she leave so quickly?  Is there anything we could do to win her over?  Any secrets we should know about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're like me, you're quite intrigued by her.  She comes and makes everything seem so easy, so natural.  When she's around, life just makes sense.  You wonder what, on earth, you could do to earn her trust.  However, you understand that she's unpredictable.  She's not meant to be tied down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSjs-Y2_RI/AAAAAAAAADU/FnW5jQx2Yx8/s1600-h/13+Tee+Marker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 69px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSjs-Y2_RI/AAAAAAAAADU/FnW5jQx2Yx8/s200/13+Tee+Marker.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090373471892339986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ext time you stand on number 13 tee and wonder where she's gone- be thankful th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;at she stayed with you for the first 12.  The next time you're at a good friend's house and everything feels just right- pause for a moment to thank her.  The next time you're in the groove at work for no apparent reason- remember she too is present.  The next time you hear that song that moves you- smile and feel the warmth of her embrace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May our lives discover this rhythm.  May she bring us home to the rest of the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-5359810249411483930?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/5359810249411483930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=5359810249411483930' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5359810249411483930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/5359810249411483930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/rhythm.html' title='Rhythm...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RqSiu-Y2_PI/AAAAAAAAADE/sf4VhjVavMY/s72-c/golf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-2559740378116604633</id><published>2007-07-19T09:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:30.727-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inclusion...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Is there a better word... on the planet?  Honestly, can you say inclusion without smiling?  It may not be the full on cheese, but it's a crooked grin for sure.   Have you ever wondered why? If not, could you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp9-ze-3u1I/AAAAAAAAACs/-JZN8HXsAbY/s1600-h/inclusion-hands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 63px; height: 92px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp9-ze-3u1I/AAAAAAAAACs/-JZN8HXsAbY/s200/inclusion-hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088925526907140946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today, we're not here to discuss all the ways we... as a race, as a society, as a nation... continue to struggle in this embrace.  We're also not here to debate historical facts, stories, or myths.  We just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;don't need to.  We all feel it.  We have all experienced this in some way.  Wouldn't you agree?  Heck, we probably know both sides of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;her pretty well by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inclusion.  I want you to look deep into her eyes.  Wait.  Look again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever, in all your days, seen such beauty?  Have you ever felt warmth like this before?  Have you really known connectivity like this?  It's awesome, isn't it?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;She's indescribable! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp-A1e-3u3I/AAAAAAAAAC8/eKdNdPg8cXQ/s1600-h/GodMan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 84px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp-A1e-3u3I/AAAAAAAAAC8/eKdNdPg8cXQ/s200/GodMan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088927760290134898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Personally, I am spending more time with her. I am learning more about her with every passing day.  I hope this comes across in my writing.  I also hope that it translates into living a life of acceptance.   I find that I'm closer to the Creator when I'm with her... and this just feels good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the feeling!  It's like when you're walking along the beach at sundown... a nice breeze passes through you.  You smile.  Why?  Something just feels right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, inclusion has taught me a thing or two.  I now understand that I need you.  I need you to be... you.  I need (and want) your voice, your perspective, your love.  Although all may be different from mine... it's diversity that makes good human beings into beautiful people.  Thank you all for helping me become a little less scary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we embrace inclusion and find ourselves walking along the beach, breeze in our face, Creator in hand.  That sounds cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-2559740378116604633?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/2559740378116604633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=2559740378116604633' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2559740378116604633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/2559740378116604633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/inclusion.html' title='Inclusion...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp9-ze-3u1I/AAAAAAAAACs/-JZN8HXsAbY/s72-c/inclusion-hands.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-3800554405915561446</id><published>2007-07-18T07:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:31.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp4Ev--3uzI/AAAAAAAAACc/HLMT-XmSoq0/s1600-h/pic1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 113px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp4Ev--3uzI/AAAAAAAAACc/HLMT-XmSoq0/s200/pic1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088509851382299442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We should pause for a minute.  Think of your individual story.  Ponder the paths which have led you to where you are.  Now, think of a close friend.  What does her journey look like?  What about his?  We could ask the same question repeatedly concerning parents, children, loved ones, untrusted ones, etc.  Many of us know a little thing or two about a lot of people.  I wonder if our perspective would change if we knew the whole story... the entire journey?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fascinating isn't it?  Everyone we meet has a different story.  A journey all together their own.  A path uniquely designed especially for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp4FTe-3u0I/AAAAAAAAACk/u27bfNi6Xy8/s1600-h/two+roads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 94px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp4FTe-3u0I/AAAAAAAAACk/u27bfNi6Xy8/s200/two+roads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088510461267655490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As we travel, something amazing takes place.  As we chase after our&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; individual destiny, we find ourselves crossing paths or simply bumping into each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;  How does thi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; happen?  Aren't you on a different path?  Aren't you pursuing a different way of life?  Reg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ardless of the questions, the facts remain.  We are here.  We're together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where to next?  Isn't that our next impulse?  Why are we such a people of destination?  After all, isn't the journey and the people we meet along the way more important that the destination?  I hope our paths are crossing and together we're slowly learning to answer... yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This goes out to all of us who have found ourselves in strange places and lonely paths.  May the journey lead us head first into stronger relationships and deeper friendships.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;May once viewed strangers become family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;May we discover that the journey isn't to get us to a particular point, it's to get us to a special person.  Or perhaps it's to create a special person inside of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May clear roads be ahead...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-3800554405915561446?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/3800554405915561446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=3800554405915561446' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3800554405915561446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3800554405915561446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/journey.html' title='Journey...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rp4Ev--3uzI/AAAAAAAAACc/HLMT-XmSoq0/s72-c/pic1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-8327107438794733443</id><published>2007-07-17T06:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:31.508-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Commitment...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's the same every morning... well six out of seven isn't bad.  I faintly hear in the distance the voice of one calling out.  It's almost as if this voice is spiritual, mystical in her delivery.  She speaks with the same tone each morning.  Her words find the path although no light is present.  She is gentle, timid, and apologetic.  Do you recognize her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always wears the same outfit... 4:59.  I wonder what this could mean?  Does it mean anything to you?  For many, it's one minute before the dreadful workday is over!  For others, it's right in the middle of Happy Hour!  For the strange few, like myself, it's twelve ho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;urs in the other direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rpy4Su-3uxI/AAAAAAAAACM/KPi_-hYRT-I/s1600-h/Compass.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 76px; height: 70px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rpy4Su-3uxI/AAAAAAAAACM/KPi_-hYRT-I/s200/Compass.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088144311010704146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Commitment.  The word just doesn't roll easily off our tongues.  It's a word that conjures up hundreds of emotions... hope, pain, heartache, promise... just to name a few.  Yet, it's the very foundation that directs our compass and sets the sails in motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to popular opinion, I am a pretty committed dude.  If we asked some old flames to chime in about this subject matter... we might get some different opinions.  You know what?  We're not asking!  Truth is... I have a new found awareness for my ability to commit.  I'm a pretty strong willed individual and once I've set my sights on a particular goal, watch out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rpy4fe-3uyI/AAAAAAAAACU/4jhS7K_BUAU/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 83px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rpy4fe-3uyI/AAAAAAAAACU/4jhS7K_BUAU/s200/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088144530054036258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Over the last few years, I've daily taken on the challenge of greeting the sun as he awakens.  I think he appreciates my commitment.  We've shared some wonderful times together and it feels as though we've found a new level of respect for one another.  There are days when I wait for him.  He is absent.  There are days when he looks for me.  I'm nowhere to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through it all, we're committed.  We understand that commitment isn't about duty, victory, or strategy.  It's about a shared value... a way of life.  It's about extending great grace to one another and cherishing the moments when we're together.  It's about celebration!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let's celebrate our commitments!  Let's look through different lenses and find a new approach to the people and places we're committed too.  Maybe in the process, we'll find ourselves at the same party... committed to diving deep and listening well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-8327107438794733443?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/8327107438794733443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=8327107438794733443' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8327107438794733443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/8327107438794733443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/commitment.html' title='Commitment...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rpy4Su-3uxI/AAAAAAAAACM/KPi_-hYRT-I/s72-c/Compass.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-4475883938826293672</id><published>2007-07-16T07:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:31.947-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The word alone causes us to shift in our seats.  Hesitation races to the front of our minds.  Our faces tell the story.  It's one of intrigue, conflict, and debate.  If you're like me, you've probably found yourself protesting on both sides of the issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RptrLu-3uvI/AAAAAAAAAB8/KBwBW5FqigU/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 135px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RptrLu-3uvI/AAAAAAAAAB8/KBwBW5FqigU/s200/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087778053379570418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let me ask you.  What words come to mind when hearing the word... expectation?  What images do you see?  Maybe you think of Pip in the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Expectations"&gt;classic novel&lt;/a&gt; by Charles Dickens.  Maybe you see Ethan Hawke and Gwyneth Paltrow dancing beautifully.  Or perhaps you feel angered by this question. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe for you, expectation is a four-letter word that would never have the honor of coming out of your mouth.  Maybe it's just the opposite.  Perhaps you thrive on this very thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rptri--3uwI/AAAAAAAAACE/vBNIhW6izbY/s1600-h/Picture+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 96px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/Rptri--3uwI/AAAAAAAAACE/vBNIhW6izbY/s200/Picture+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087778452811528962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In knowing me well, you know that I struggle with exceptionally high expectation.  Why?  Who knows?  It's one of the few things that Bo simply does not know (and Nike wouldn't help out either on this one).  I simply expect a lot out of people, especially close friends and myself.  It's both a blessing and a curse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appears as though the tendency in our present culture is to view this thing with disgust and negativity.  The trend, it seems, is to say, "How dare you place expectations on me."  For many, expectations are a noose, an impasse, a deal breaker.  I find myself confused with such a mind set.  I just don't quite understand how it got to be this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't expectations meant to be beautiful?  Aren't they simply in place to bring strength to our insecurities?  Aren't they as much for our growth as they are our pruning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking with a good friend a few months ago. We were having the usual conversation... dreaming aloud, processing the future, and examining all the possibilities.  Remember, this is the norm for us.  So, we've been talking seriously about living in the same place and doing life in a way that we only dream about to this point.  Everything was in motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward.  Two weeks ago, I'm again talking with this same close friend.  He (name withheld to protect the guilty) starts off by asking if I really believe in what we've been talking about.  I couldn't believe it!  But, we're not done.  He then proceeds to tell me that he just doesn't have any expectations for the future and simply changes the course of years of incredible dialog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... expectations.  I know this is a very controversial subject.  I know that I'll probably get comments from all sides of the debate.  I know that together we can help one another understand this often difficult issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's speak openly.  Let's share honestly.  Let's live expectantly... or not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-4475883938826293672?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/4475883938826293672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=4475883938826293672' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4475883938826293672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/4475883938826293672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/expectations.html' title='Expectations...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RptrLu-3uvI/AAAAAAAAAB8/KBwBW5FqigU/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-3919049039761582213</id><published>2007-07-12T15:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:32.354-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion...</title><content type='html'>Let me ask you.  Have you ever been fanatical about something?  Have you ever found yourself laughing, crying, or screaming for something or someone who you haven't even met?  Ever had your emotions swing on a particular event or situation where you had no control of the outcome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If so, you've probably experienced this strange phenomenon called confusion.  Now, this sucker can come in many shapes and sizes.  It's packaged like the old  "ob" (in disguise)... what looks like a nice little  present can suddenly be something else.  Yes, confusing I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaOPe-3uuI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Sk8ZhubFAWg/s1600-h/badge.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 88px; height: 88px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaOPe-3uuI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Sk8ZhubFAWg/s200/badge.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086409225827498722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My confusion of late revolves around the swinging door of &lt;a href="http://www.leedsunited.com/"&gt;Leeds United F.C.&lt;/a&gt; For those who have no idea who the heck Leeds is... shame on you!  If I threw out names such as Man United, Chelsea, Arsenal, or Liverpool most of you would guess that I was referring to an English football team.  However, in knowing me, you would know that teams are not just teams... it's a way of life.  In Europe, teams somehow find a way of choosing you.  Kind of like how Bumble Bee picks Sam in Transformers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was introduced to "The Whites" while in Scotland in 2000.  At the time, Leeds embodied everything I believed in... they were young, passionate, fierce, unafraid, and loyal.  Over the last 5 years or so, the team has gone from the highest achievement in European soccer to the most shameful feats of English lore.  It's a horrific story. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaHFu-3umI/AAAAAAAAAA0/jjc8BqmT6Jc/s1600-h/ERoad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 100px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaHFu-3umI/AAAAAAAAAA0/jjc8BqmT6Jc/s320/ERoad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086401361742379618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;From elation to heartache. Heartache to frustration.  Frustration to... you guessed it... confusion.  In the spirit of my young niece Catherine... "What happened?"  Over the last month, no one has known if Leeds would even survive as a football club.  It looked as if the doors at Elland Road would be forever closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, in the spirit of Leeds United, the club has dug to the depths of itself and found a passion to live... to breathe, to thrive, to try!  I still don't understand so much of what has happened, but what I do know is that I bleed Leeds.  And if you're a fan of such a thing... you understand what this means.  You know that sometimes you have to visit the deep places and in the process find yourself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next time you're watching Survivor and ask yourself how could this happen... remember that confusion is a chance to look inside and find yourself all over again.  Perhaps this will take place when watching the Dawgs settle for yet another field goal.  Or maybe this will take place when you can't quite figure out how Jack is going to get out of the mess he's in.  Maybe it's closer to home for you.  Maybe it's a best friend who's disengaged... for no apparent reason.  Or a life decision that is growing more and more confusing as the deadline approaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This goes out to all of us who are desperately seeking the depths of life and finding ourselves in unknown confusing places.  May our confusion show us the way home.  "Marching on together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaIiu-3uoI/AAAAAAAAABE/34-T8_R2ZWE/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 133px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaIiu-3uoI/AAAAAAAAABE/34-T8_R2ZWE/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086402959470213762" 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/6898026417092596910-3919049039761582213?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/3919049039761582213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=3919049039761582213' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3919049039761582213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/3919049039761582213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/confusion.html' title='Confusion...'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpaOPe-3uuI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Sk8ZhubFAWg/s72-c/badge.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898026417092596910.post-7094631125821643622</id><published>2007-07-11T14:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:53:32.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Haven't we all heard this before?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know what some of you are thinking... Bo, if you're going to develop a blog at least come up with something remotely original.  Right?   If you didn't think this ... chances are we probably don't know one another real well to this point.  But that could quickly change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When thinking of joining the blog world, there was only one catch phrase that I couldn't shake.  You guessed it... &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bo_Knows"&gt;Bo Knows&lt;/a&gt;.  If you are too young for this... congratulations!  If you're too old to remember... you're not reading this blog!  Seriously, it has to be one of the best advertising campaigns ever!  Leave it up to Nike to make a little bank, huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpU1Y1HgG9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/xkIDHDMOI4w/s1600-h/Picture+3.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpU1Y1HgG9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/xkIDHDMOI4w/s400/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086030054876519378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A little refresher for those who were lost in the late 80's to early 90's.  Perhaps you were spending 12 hours a day trying to save the Princess.  Maybe you were waking up early to watch hundreds of little blue dudes survive the wicked schemes of Gargamel.  Maybe you couldn't resist the Master of the Universe and the power of the Castle of Grayskull.  Maybe your fights with the parents centered around whether the WWF and NWA were real or not... Summer Slam was only like $19.95!  Or perhaps you were dancing and singing along to the newest Jackson 5... I think they were called NKOTB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpU14VHgG-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/2ItGOPa8mRI/s1600-h/bo-jackson-bw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 109px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpU14VHgG-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/2ItGOPa8mRI/s320/bo-jackson-bw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086030596042398690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, long before Kurt died, even before grunge took off, we were introduce to this amazing athlete named Bo.  He was the first athlete in the modern era to play professional baseball and football in the same year.  Therefore, Bo knew a lot.  Bo went on to excel in the knowledge of basketball, surfing, cycling, soccer, tennis, auto racing, etc.  He even knew cricket!  As you can imagine, growing up with the name, Bo, quickly became quite interesting!  Man, the stories I have to tell...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the coming days and months, you will find out for yourself that after 15 years or so... Bo still knows a thing or two.  He's changed a bit in recent years... shorter, smaller, lighter, better looking.  I've taken over the reigns although Nike has dropped the funding.  Come along for the ride and laugh at yourself when you say out loud again in the midst of strangers... Bo Knows!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6898026417092596910-7094631125821643622?l=bobarrington.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/feeds/7094631125821643622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6898026417092596910&amp;postID=7094631125821643622' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7094631125821643622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6898026417092596910/posts/default/7094631125821643622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobarrington.blogspot.com/2007/07/havent-we-all-heard-this-before.html' title='Haven&apos;t we all heard this before?'/><author><name>Bo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11532386856933012508</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oijP1WxyaEY/RpU1Y1HgG9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/xkIDHDMOI4w/s72-c/Picture+3.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
