<?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-1825525413355502454</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:00:43.483-07:00</updated><category term='Beauty and the Beast'/><title type='text'>Try On His Shoes?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-3132164305674353637</id><published>2009-02-12T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T08:31:52.172-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scars...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SZRO3hHiHCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/EEIE0Mh1SP0/s1600-h/wee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301949377011653666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SZRO3hHiHCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/EEIE0Mh1SP0/s320/wee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are certain things in life that a male like myself would call a worthy scar. I have a burn scar from when I was 2 when an iron fell on me that I still have on my left arm and hand. I have cement burn scars from skateboarding on both my left and right elbows. The reason these scars are worthy because of the situations that took place in order to achieve this "rank". 3rd degree burns on my arm as an iron slid down it. That's a worthy scar because of what I had to go through to get it. Same thing with skateboarding. Rolling up on a 10 set, (10 stairs from top to bottom) the freedom of your weightlessness, that was an awesome feeling. Until you realize that you aren't going to land this properly balanced, so you bail, eat cement, and then bare scars that show it. These elbow scars are from a worthy cause.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But how many of us have scars that aren't so worthy. We accidentally cut ourselves shaving, or with a kitchen knife while cooking. We drop a car battery (yes this happened) on our foot and the nails on big toe and toe next to it start to fall off. You grab a stack of paper not think and get a huge paper cut from it, we've all been there. We all have accidental scars and even these sometimes are pretty sweet to talk about, but there is one step that goes beyond even accidental scars. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To woman these are just stupid guy moments in which they should have used a band aid, neo-sporin, and left the scab alone so it would have healed without scarring. But to use guys, these are proving grounds for greater moments we have lived through in our lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scars can hurt tremendously and go deep into the tissue, but often we only look at scars on the outside and we never look to see how scarred our hearts are. We tend to keep those scars to ourselves and never talk about those things that truly hurt us emotionally.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was talking with a friend this last week, we will call him James. James just got out of prison for something he deserved. He has come to live for God since then, but still carries the scars on his heart for that actions that put him in jail in the first place. His scars in this sense are not visible. They are internal only. You would never know he was hurting unless you took some time out of your schedule to talk with him and yet just like James, everyone feels his hurt. We all at some point feel as if the pain wont go away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, here it is, here is my scar. I have in this last year with acceptance. In a way, its something that pulls me down because if the feeling of acceptance is gone, my day has gone with it. Those of you who know me here in Indiana might not fully see this because you get the goofy guy you see on Sunday's at church, but sometimes that is just a cover up for the hurt that burns inside. Things aren't horrible, but its definitely culture shock in comparison to what Brooke and I had back in Oklahoma. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Neither one of us in the 2 years before coming to Indiana would have said we were home bodies. We were always hanging out with our friends or over watching a movie at some one's house. Over at the Chinese food restaurant, or driving an hour to the closest cool place to hang out. We were never without a party of 3 or more accompanying us. Heck, if we were bored, we would call everyone up and raid Wal-mart to blow 2 hours. Never would we get routine with work/home/sleep/rinse and repeat. It's not that our friends here wouldn't hang out with us, we just don't have that close of relationships with anyone here to make that kind of a call. Married or not, children or not, the atmosphere here is calm and very self-kept. We never know what's going on because we really aren't plugged in. I think it partially has to do with the fact that I am not into sports which seem to drive the society here. I kinda set this sports precedent early and I think if i would have just played the part, I might be more accepted. I don't get down on myself much, but this has definitely been a hard year in my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's my big scar, what scars do you have in your life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-3132164305674353637?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/3132164305674353637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=3132164305674353637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/3132164305674353637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/3132164305674353637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2009/02/scars.html' title='Scars...'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SZRO3hHiHCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/EEIE0Mh1SP0/s72-c/wee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-5420405424310026323</id><published>2008-12-17T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T12:03:47.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Buy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SUlaxbaVcqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/7l4pdcr-R6g/s1600-h/junior-geek-squad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280851843286921890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SUlaxbaVcqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/7l4pdcr-R6g/s320/junior-geek-squad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those of you that don't know...&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I HATE BILLS&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't have many, but the few I do have are annoying and I wish I could burn them and never worry about them again. Well, to update you, several years ago (during my junior year of college) my computer crapped out. I was in the middle of my semester and needed a quick fix. Instead of going to my parents and asking for help, I did what every college guy would do and applied for the worst male credit card ever...Best Buy. I didn't think they would give me one, but I knew trying wouldn't hurt. Well for some reason, they decided to give me a HUGE LIMIT. I had no computer at all with a budget to buy the best computer in the store, so what do you think I did? I spent $4500.00 on a computer and $700 on a monitor. I was branded Geek from that moment on. I had the best gaming computer on the planet. My Keyboard had a digital display, my mouse was weighted and was precise to the click. I could see everything on my 22" Samsung Behemoth monitor that took up my whole desk space(back in the days before flat screens were popular...i know you guys didn't think that time existed). You can ask Jeff, my college roommate. He hated that thing. It had 7 fans to keep it cool. The sound equivalency was that of a train going by and with the air conditioner tanked to 0, it still kept us in the 80's. It was the coolest thing up to that point that I had ever owned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now the computer was awesome, then the bills started coming in. I had a job that would help pay for it, but I drove an hour there and an hour back twice a week in order to work it. My adolescence showed up and all of the sudden I missed a couple payments and I had HSBC (Best Buys lending Bank) calling me non-stop. I realized that I had gotten myself into some serious financial "crap". Even better, 2 years ago it died. Since then I have continued to pay for something that is completely out of my life now. What's awesome about it is in interest alone I paid over $5000, so this "Seemingly Amazing" computer cost me $10,000.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I am here to tell you today, almost 6 years later, that my last payment on that stupid card is here and its an insurmountable $50. I can not tell you how it feels to release myself from this debt. The feelings inside make me want to leap up and down for hours. My wife doesn't see it the same way. That's not a bad thing, she looks at it like we are paying off another bill. But me, I feel it, I break free from its chains, I show it who's the boss. This bill is no longer holding me down which frees up more money for us to do other things and shows the rest of the world that Credit can be conquered if you set your focus on it. I am financially free of this debt and I shredded my Best Buy card with the intention of saving to buy something instead of racking up more credit!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you find comfort in knowing that financial peace is attainable if you look and work hard towards the big picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-5420405424310026323?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/5420405424310026323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=5420405424310026323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/5420405424310026323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/5420405424310026323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/12/financial-peace.html' title='Best Buy...'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SUlaxbaVcqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/7l4pdcr-R6g/s72-c/junior-geek-squad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-1538048510942618078</id><published>2008-08-14T08:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T08:50:04.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Of All Ages!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SKRTswj5BNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/qHP3RnHVdaM/s1600-h/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234400695326147794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SKRTswj5BNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/qHP3RnHVdaM/s320/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0015.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What does it take to be a Mother?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;     Well, we all know the obvious processes, but I'm talking about raising the child. No matter what you do, you can never be ready for the experiences you go through while raising a child. Me being only 25 and my non-parenthood experiences have led me to believe that there is a lot more to it than just "cookies and milk". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;    My wife and I recently adopted a puppy (Roxy). She is adorable, but she is a pain. Dogs are good until you realize that you have just given up the next 10 years of your life to take care of this thing that wont listen to you, cant hold their bladder till we get them outside, and needs to be fed regularly (which they cant do on their own). I thought taking care of a dog would be easy, but when you throw in the anxiety issues of them screaming while you are leaving the house, and the random biting of the ears; the thought of a dog starts to go from cute and cuddly to annoying and smelly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;     But how much more difficult is it when your working with beings that can actually think for themselves? It's here that I have to first and foremost thank my mother for sticking with me and enduring through all the painstaking years that I put on our family. I was such a sweet and innocent little child growing up, what happened to me when I hit about the 6Th grade? I know my mother wouldn't ever say this, but I will...I turned into the Devil himself! I was a force to be reckoned with, which seemed cool at first, but caused a lot of tension as the years went on. I think it was me trying to find out what I could and couldn't get away with. It's like the "Junior High Light bulb" came on and I decided to defy everything known to man and my mother received the blunt end of that blow. She is the one who decided to stand up to me and my ways and when she put herself out there, she got what I thought she deserved... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;     I tell you all this, not to think that I was the world's worst child (close), so that you can ponder this question. When my mother decided to have a child, to take care of that child, and that child ended up pushing her as far away as possible, what was feeling? What was she going through? We fought, and we fought LOUD. I know someday I will want to have a child of my own and it will be wonderful and amazing to be a father, but I look at the child I was and think twice about having children. I know its a sacrifice that I am willing to take someday, but since it's not going to happen anytime soon, this blog simply goes out to thank my mother for all the crap I gave her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Mom,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just wanted to say I am sorry. I know life is good now, but I am pretty sure that the majority of those few grey hairs that you do have came from me. Not only grey hairs, but lots of stress, tension, and scarring memories. I simply wanted to write this to you thanking you from the bottom of my heart for never giving up on me. You were doing your best to keep a relationship with me, but I let go of it because I didn't want to put forth the effort to mend it back together. I am so thankful today that we have come to terms with what happened and we can look past it and live as mother and son should, you really mean the world to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know the joke was always that dad and I were the closest, but I think we share a bond unlike any other. We have been through the thick and thin, waded through the battle, and have come out with only bumps and bruises that have already healed. You have taught me valuable life lessons that I can never forget. Those are things that make our relationship stronger. They give depth to our relationship and add character to our relational walls. When you signed up to be my mother, I know you never expected to put up with what you went through. You stuck it out and gave it your all and because of that we share a close bond that is irreplaceable. I love you so much for jumping through the fiery hoops with me and going on this life journey with me. You have helped make my dreams come true and I owe you a sincere THANK YOU. Its because of you (and I truly believe this) that I stuck through college, worked my butt off and am sitting in this office as a responsible (well, kind of...), married man. You gave my life meaning in times where there was none. You are amazing and never let yourself get down because of the past, but only look ahead at what you have helped mold for my/ our future! I love you mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-1538048510942618078?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/1538048510942618078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=1538048510942618078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/1538048510942618078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/1538048510942618078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/08/mothers-of-all-ages.html' title='Mother&apos;s Of All Ages!!!'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SKRTswj5BNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/qHP3RnHVdaM/s72-c/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-4973962030571116572</id><published>2008-08-05T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T15:21:39.175-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling From The Tree!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SJipr241PUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/FZtfEl-hTPY/s1600-h/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231117538124184898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SJipr241PUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/FZtfEl-hTPY/s320/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0017.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was talking with a friend of my who also knows my father and he said this quote, "Well the apple didn't fall far from the tree did it?" I was puzzled at first. I didn't know if the guy was insulting me or my father for that matter. I wasn't sure if he was being positive or negative with the statement. Well we parted ways in good standing, but I caught myself throughout the day asking what did that statement mean. I asked several friends back home and they all told me the same thing, "All he was saying is your like your old man". In those short moments I started thinking of all the amazing things my dad has accomplished. All thing places he's been in his life, all the jobs he's worked and worked his butt off for what little pay he's made. For finishing what he starts even if it almost kills him. I look up to that man for being a model Christian. A generous giver and a warm hearted lover. For his passion with cars and for his dumb little jokes. He is a good man, and self-less man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish you could meet him. It might take him a little while to warm up to you, but sooner or later he's gonna ramble off a joke that isn't funny at all, yet will make you chuckle. His always smiling faces with "big boy" coke bottle bottom glasses will warm your heart. But his character is what gets me. He's never gone to college, never worked a desk job in his life. He's a pure hard working American with a never give up charisma. He is insightful and a huge history buff. Seriously, just ask him about WWII and you will see what I am talking about. He knows almost every car known to man just by looking at the taillights or headlights. He's the perfect dad. Growing up trying to teach me how to catch, he sacrificed physical pain for the satisfaction of me throwing and catching a ball. He got in the passenger seat the day I turned 15 and 1/2 to teach me how to drive a stick shift, which I am certain he still regrets! We use to take the little Go-Cart over to my Junior High School and ride it all over the place. He would read to me, teach me how to fix my own bike, and eventually watch me grow up and move on to my own life away from home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I am glad to say "The Apple Didn't Fall Far From The Tree" because with a father like that, who wouldn't want to be like him?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-4973962030571116572?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/4973962030571116572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=4973962030571116572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/4973962030571116572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/4973962030571116572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/08/falling-from-tree.html' title='Falling From The Tree!'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SJipr241PUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/FZtfEl-hTPY/s72-c/2008_0117RANDOMNESS0017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-6519637707585328319</id><published>2008-07-28T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T10:37:42.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing Nothing into Something...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SRM5X0usIqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/K6gnFTVYyQk/s1600-h/crosswater_copy6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265615470780490402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SRM5X0usIqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/K6gnFTVYyQk/s320/crosswater_copy6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thoughts about the Bible are constantly running through my head. I am always thinking about some story or some new idea for the ministry I am a part of. New things are always arising and changing times come with changing people so I want to do my best to stay on top of my profession. In my studies recently I have been on a huge Rob Bell kick. He hosts the NOOMA videos that are sweeping the nation with new insights to God and how he works with us. I recently watched the Breathe video which blew my socks off. He suggests that the Jehovah (the Hebrew name for God) was pronounced so heavily with vowels that it became hard to do because it sounded like Breathing. It was great insight and I like the ideas that he threw out. One of which was, when a baby is born what's the first thing they do? Maybe its not just breathing, maybe its crying out the name of God. It was an awesome video, but more than that it was a new concept to me. Nothing like this has ever been revealed to me or mentioned. I know it's a far stretch to assume that just by breathing your saying God's name, but the concept makes you think. "Maybe I should dig a little deeper in my walk with God and figure out what I call him on a regular basis or even how often do I call on him?" God has a way of showing each of us how valued we are and maybe it's time in my life to congratulate him on his giftedness. To think that maybe even breathing is calling out to God. That's Profound! What are your thoughts?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-6519637707585328319?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/6519637707585328319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=6519637707585328319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/6519637707585328319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/6519637707585328319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/07/changing-nothing-into-something.html' title='Changing Nothing into Something...'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SRM5X0usIqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/K6gnFTVYyQk/s72-c/crosswater_copy6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-540090341322129724</id><published>2008-07-09T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T15:21:39.493-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Musical Dis...Ohh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHUkQ_PC3jI/AAAAAAAAADw/qVjxHnNsxrQ/s1600-h/MU-0001_Musical_Notes_on_Black_6475623_std.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221119217277001266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHUkQ_PC3jI/AAAAAAAAADw/qVjxHnNsxrQ/s200/MU-0001_Musical_Notes_on_Black_6475623_std.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Music is no longer a rebellion, it is a lifestyle that forms and molds our society today and is even more present in the cultural changes as the youth of today grow older. Music is a huge part of our culture and it is only getting bigger. Media is a multi-billion dollar industry supported by millions around the world who hold common interests in modern technology. Music is the in the background of every motion picture, while it drives the thrill of a video game. It is on the pages that showcase our lives to the World Wide Web, while today our whole music library can fit into our pockets. In the younger generations it helps mold friendships together, is a major conversation tool, and even shapes how you look and how you act. Music is a lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;I will be the first to admit that I Love Music. It helps me get into a groove at work and every morning in the car it gets me pumped up and ready to take on the world. Music is a major part. I say this to show you that even in my life at 25 with an Ipod that is so old they don’t even sell parts for anymore and I am culturally engaged in my musical surroundings. What does that say about the 10 year old who has his own 180GB Ipod with a music library that trumps most major library book collections?&lt;br /&gt;Our culture, our society is at a level of musical ingenious that no one ever thought possible. We have every kind of musical style at the edge of our fingertips at the cheapest prices. We have the ability to sample the music in stores and on the web to see if it is something we will enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;All of this and still on a daily basis, musical critics (friends, peers, any person who has a say in the musical world) tear down our self-esteem by criticizing what we listen to. So tell me, why is it that everyday I am faced with the same question over and over again, "Why do you listen to that, it's horrible?" or "How can you stand that, its not even music?" Why does someones opinion become so strong that they stop at nothing less than tearing you down personally for what you love listening to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your take on it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-540090341322129724?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/540090341322129724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=540090341322129724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/540090341322129724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/540090341322129724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/07/another-musical-disohh.html' title='Another Musical Dis...Ohh!'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHUkQ_PC3jI/AAAAAAAAADw/qVjxHnNsxrQ/s72-c/MU-0001_Musical_Notes_on_Black_6475623_std.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-3185826043143654470</id><published>2008-07-07T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T10:10:08.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Accounting is Not My Thing!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://teacherweb.craven.k12.nc.us/images/89C5A6C1DDD74FD7971B4535B2A5E185.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://teacherweb.craven.k12.nc.us/images/89C5A6C1DDD74FD7971B4535B2A5E185.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am terrible with numbers...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to a Private Christian College that taught me how to better understand God's Word, not numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; seem like it would be that big-a-deal, but when you are trying to do tips for meals served, or figuring out your budget for the month, these numbers start haunting you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's the never ending saga of how I cant add or subtract slapping me in the face once more just to show me that I suck at adding! You ever been there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just this morning I was working on my Credit Card Expense Report...which in its wording alone is enough for you to take a nap. I noticed when I was finished, the number that I was receiving was not matching up to the logical number given to me at the end of the report. My receipts were not adding up correctly. Instead of being smart and simply writing the number down on my report, which would have saved me about an hour, I decided to "Be a man and do it right" (so i thought).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I proceeded to start over with my adding (never thinking to find a calculator or use my computer for help). Line it all up, column add and take the remainder over to the next column for adding. I finish and bet you never could get what happened...let me just say this....I SUCK AT ADDING!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the financial jobs by now have just put me on the pile for shredding. I will admit that I finally found my problem. 9+4=13...thank you, i will be signing autographs for my latest discovery. Instead of carrying over the 1 to the next column, i kept taking the 3. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there you have it folks, Darrin Cant Add...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-3185826043143654470?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/3185826043143654470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=3185826043143654470' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/3185826043143654470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/3185826043143654470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/07/accounting-is-not-my-thing.html' title='Accounting is Not My Thing!!!'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825525413355502454.post-1256551365555428492</id><published>2008-07-02T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T15:21:39.751-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beauty and the Beast'/><title type='text'>The Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHJzuILuc0I/AAAAAAAAAAY/3_c1HU9TJmI/s1600-h/l_7586b6e785587ff4f8a98f1f29ce7aec.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220362154383668034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHJzuILuc0I/AAAAAAAAAAY/3_c1HU9TJmI/s200/l_7586b6e785587ff4f8a98f1f29ce7aec.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a newly wed.&lt;br /&gt;We will open it up with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newly married as of June 7, life has been a never ending crescendo.&lt;br /&gt;The wedding was really laid back and fun. I planned with the Minister to fake a bad first kiss,to have him stop us, and make me kiss her again, just to be different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ceremony was beautiful, the reception was one off(setup better than my high school prom).&lt;br /&gt;Thousands of glowing lights hanging from the ceiling. Blue, silver, and black decorated the entire room with families all gathered around ready to welcome the bride and groom as they walk hand-in-hand into their celebration. I will never forget it. We even had matching blue wedding shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister made the wedding cake, family from both sides chipped in on decorating, food, setup, and clean-up, you know the usual. We had a DJ to do music for us and he did a spectacular job. The music was fun, the dancing was "hip" and the hundreds of people in attendance all had huge smiles on their faces. The music rolled on for hours and the party seemed like it was never going to stop. I could write for days on this one night alone, but I will leave you with my most favorite part of the evening. One that sticks out over all the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best picture of the evening and one that I will never forget is seeing my almost wife for the first time walking down the isle in her perfect wedding dress. It almost brought me to tears. She would have lost it if I was crying so I did my best to keep the tears from becoming drops. I could stay in that moment forever. Her hair was perfect, her dress spectacular, her eyes fixed on me like I was in the spotlight. Her smile was real, her hands shaking due to her brothers nerves as he walked her down the isle. No one could pay me any amount of money to take that moment away.&lt;br /&gt;There was my wife walking towards me, the perfect moment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The beauty of a woman always shows up when she is walking towards you from a distance.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825525413355502454-1256551365555428492?l=darrinsimpson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/feeds/1256551365555428492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825525413355502454&amp;postID=1256551365555428492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/1256551365555428492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825525413355502454/posts/default/1256551365555428492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darrinsimpson.blogspot.com/2008/07/wedding.html' title='The Wedding'/><author><name>Darrin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07372460893995065614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SGvGwAn_x0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/XMTPBoDCHnM/S220/DSC_0400b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lwmr3nDdyhA/SHJzuILuc0I/AAAAAAAAAAY/3_c1HU9TJmI/s72-c/l_7586b6e785587ff4f8a98f1f29ce7aec.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
