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Sometimes it is hard for me to contain my jealousy when my peers are doing better than I am.

It is never really directed at them; most of the time I am sincerely happy for them. But there is always a slight twinge of ‘why not me’ that goes through my mind.

Don’t get me wrong, I live in a nice house. But it is old and small.

I drive a nice car, but it is a company car and my wife’s car needs to be replaced.

I own just about everything I could want, but nothing very valuable.

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We are in a period where Jocelyn is almost as equally attached to me as she is to her mother.

This happened last summer as well, I wonder if that has anything to do with it.

I will say that I absolutely love it. I love hearing her call for “Dada” from her crib in the morning. I love her running up to me to have me pick her up. I love seeing her wave to me while I drive away. I love seeing her get excited when I walk into the room.

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Bipolar Thoughts

I’m a guy that doesn’t really like to be taken care of.

It is kinda odd because I love attention. I love to be the center of attention at a party. I love to be asked questions. I love for people to come to me for advice. I love to hear that my name was mentioned when I wasn’t around. I love for people to ask about me.

I generally have a hard time believing it when it happens, but I love it all none the less.

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Bipolar Thoughts

I wish I had grown up more like the Jolly Green Giant.

I grew up in a meat and potatoes kind of house. I don’t remember there being many vegetables on my plate that I was forced to choke down. Even with my grandparents. Vegetables just weren’t a side dish very often, certainly not daily, not that I remember.

And it takes a toll in my adult life. I like vegetables a whole lot more now as an adult, it is still difficult for me to get them into my diet on a daily basis.

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My parents were divorced by the time I was five, and I have no recollection of a time when they were together. And my mother moved to Pennsylvania by the time I was in High School, and she passed by the time I was 19.

As a young child, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. I lived with my paternal grandmother for a number of years, and I spent a lot of time with my other set of grandparents as well. My grandmothers did a lot of the heavy lifting of raising me and providing me with strong maternal influences. They taught me a lot about how to conduct myself as a compassionate person, among a million other things. I can never express to them how grateful I am and how lucky I feel to have grown up in the way I did.

My dad remarried when I was in middle school, and I was strongly, and foolishly, opposed to it. I was asked to stand up with my father and I refused, something I really regret to this day. On that wedding day, my dad’s best man, my sister’s godfather, my pseudo-uncle, gave me some advice that I have not forgotten. He told me that it was okay to be angry and emotional, that those things were a part of life. But he told me that when something happens we can either be angry about it or we can accept it and make the best out of it.

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This is my 100th blog. Now, I have made more than 100 postings but if you take out the announcements and podcast information, this marks my 100th blog.

Part of me can’t believe I made it this far, that I stuck with it this long, and that people have continued to read it this long.

I want to say thank you for everyone who has supported me in this endeavor. I want to say thank you to everyone who has challenged me, doubted me, or hated on me in any way. It all made me better. And while I still have a long way to go to make this thing readable, I feel like I am well on my way.

Some of you have read all 100 posts, and more, some of you have listened to all the podcasts too.

I thank you for your time, and your dedication.

For the next 100 posts, please comment more, share more, and give more feedback. I love it all.

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I have never really been good at a job I’ve held.

I take that back, two jobs I had, I was good. I was good at Kmart, and I was good at the hospital. But those jobs also allowed for a lot of goofing off and horseplay.

Any real job I’ve had, whether it be painting houses, working in architecture, or my current job selling robotics supplies, I’ve just never been good at. No one in those jobs ever looked at me and thought I was one of the better employees.

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The day I found out my mother had died was nothing at all like I imagined it would be.

This is what happened: My dad called my sister and I into the living room (I cannot remember if my sister still lived at home or not, and I don’t remember what I was doing before that because it was around dinner time that this happened) and he and my stepmom were both there and he told us that he had spoken to my mother’s boyfriend, or whatever the hell he was, and she had passed over night.

My sister immediately started crying and I believe my stepmother went over and consoled her. I, on the other hand, didn’t really offer up much emotion about the situation. I have no idea why not, I guess it didn’t really hit me.

We talked about it for a few minutes and then I told my parents I was off to band practice, which was scheduled and I never missed.

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Bipolar Thoughts

As you might imagine I am a pretty nervous guy. I guess that is par for the course when you suffer from anxiety, so it doesn’t really surprise me either.

What does surprise me are the types of things that make me nervous.

I think I get nerves from some fairly normal things that most people get nervous about. Things like travel, especially by plane, big deadlines or due dates, whether they are personal or professional, starting new things, things like that I think are fairly reasonable and they don’t bother me when my palms get sweaty and my heart rate increases and I can’t sleep.

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