TMI
So I was trying to do my civic duty and investigating our presidential candidates, and I found out about this web site that Obama sponsored. It’s pretty interesting, but it’s hard to get your head around numbers that are in billions. McDonald’s hamburgers or contracting dollars, the numbers just seem so large as to be meaningless.
One death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic.
–Joseph Stalin
It’s finished…
So, a few years ago I entered an idea contest here in South Carolina and get runner-up with my idea for a construction equipment theme park. Finally, someone else did it so I can take it off my list. Whew!
Time for my monthly blog posting!!!
Wow, I’m a terrible blogger. I think that the problem is that I’m always busy doing stuff so I never have time to write about doing stuff. I spent the weekend in Raleigh, NC playing free poker tournaments (made two final tables, woo hoo!) and helping my friend load a UHaul. I’m soooo sore today, but I had a blast. Sometimes it’s nice to get far away from your everyday routine to get some perspective. Today I have a boatload of perspective, along with some scrapes and really sore muscles.
Another weird thing happened this weekend, but just explaining how weird it was would take too long. Maybe next month 
Ok, so maybe people feel like this when I’m talking about XML.
This video is hilarious. I’m pretty sure it’s a made-up product, but not 100%, which is why it is so damn funny:
My daughter.
My daughter never speaks. Most weeks I spend two or three hours total driving her around in my car, and she never speaks, she just looks out the window. I often wonder what she’s thinking about, and today when I got the school newsletter I saw this poem she wrote:
Memories
Selene Means
Team 73I am a piece of paper;
clean and blank,
now written all over
by others.Words written in sharpie;
written in ink.
Staying there.
Forever.Everything is written.
Everything.
Praises.
Compliments.
.Kindness.
Lies.
Hatefulness.
Misery.
Anger.Sometimes it seems,
just seems,
kindness is outnumbered
by hurt.But still,
I am a piece of a paper.
A home to these words.
Written in sharpie.
Staying with me.
Forever.
In memories.
It makes my heart ache, because I can’t give her any of my experiences, just watch her form her own. And hope.
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