I know it's been quite a long time since I've written anything. So welcome back, me. And I know that this is the second time I'm bringing up this subject, but it is something to think about.

A random thought entered my mind as I was trying to catch up on my course readings (which isn't going to happen as long as I'm writing this blog): How far does the word "freedom" take someone (i.e. their opinions, their choices, etc.)? See, I ask this question because it was brought to my attention how one of my friend's blogs got deleted off a Web site (not mentioning any URLs). Does that make the phrase "freedom of speech" irrelevant?

According to Merriam-Webster online, the word "freedom" has one definition as "libration from slavery or restraint or from the power of another." Obviously, freedom has boundaries because if you have a blog or a story or an opinion pulled from a Web site's blogging community, your voice is being restrained by the power of another. So where is the freedom of speech? What are the unseen boundaries that one must not cross and what grounds do the blogging Gods base their decision on to pull the plug (excuse the pun)? I understand the norms: no vulgarity, no racism of any kind (age, sex, ethnic background), etc. That's just being polite.

Now I'm intrigued and want to know what my friend wrote. Unfortunately, I won't get that opportunity. If he crossed the normal boundaries that we are so used to seeing listed, I have to say this to him, "You know better!" But if he didn't, where did his freedom to speak out go?

Now that I freed myself for 20 minutes to write this, I guess I better slave over my book for at least 30 minutes before going to bed. Good night, everyone. Peace and blessings to you.

With all this hoopla going on about the Jackson County district attorney and the "injustice" he is serving, I felt the need to put my five cents in. (And yes, it will be more than the proverbial two cents.)

I have lived in Edna for the past 18 years. I grew up with the rumors of Bobby Bell throwing the book at certain people while letting other offenses - some serious - go. I would read in the Jackson County Edna Herald how someone of no criminal background or record would get sentenced 75 years to life for drugs. Oh my God?! Are you serious? I agree that they should serve time. If you get caught doing dirty, expect a not-so-happy clean up (i.e. jail time) on your part. But 75 to life for a first offense? For drugs? Okie dokie, Mr. D.A. You may want to calm your nerves a tad. I know you want to make an example, but that's going overboard

In light of recent events, I have to say that it's about time someone is stepping up in what they believe in. I can't speak on the case of David Rodriguez since I have no clue who this man is or what kind of person he is. I do, however, applaude his family and friends who are out there to support him. I have to applaude them for taking a stand of what they believe: the injustice and unfair punishment they believe is going on in the district attorney's office, and their protesting. In my 18 years of living in Edna, I have never seen that, and it was good to see.

I've read the many comments on the protest and the response given by Bobby Bell. I've read the article in the Austin paper about the Operation Crackdown that happened a few years ago that put 28 black people in jail, including the father of one of my classmates. I've heard about how people think Bobby Bell is "dirty" and he isn't so squeaky clean. To tell the truth, I'm tired of it. I'm not saying that I agree with Bell and the method of his sentencing. I'm saying that I see how people get punished in this small town. Because of that, I won't even think about spitting out a wad of gum on the sidewalk worrying I would get a 10-15 year prison sentence.

I know many people don't like Bobby Bell as district attorney. OK, that's cool. But instead of complaining about it, do something. Find someone else to be D.A. Join Judy Rodriguez as a part of her protest. Write a congressman. Push to get him out of there. Go to the courthouse with a petition signed by everyone you know who is fed up with what you think is going on. JUST DO SOMETHING! I personally don't care either way. Although I question his decisions on punishment and highly disagree with him and his methods, Bobby Bell doesn't bother me because I don't give him a reason to.

My woman's intuition told me that my self-deleted blog was upsetting to some people. 

So here's what I'm going to say. Where is my freedom of expression? I know you have your freedom of the press, but I have my right of freedom of speech. My opinions are my opinions, and I passed down the concerns of my hometown's residents through my blog. Yet, when I posted my blog, another blog got posted. A blog I expected to get posted.

Talk about listening to the general public's comments and concerns. Next time I won't make it so evident. To keep myself from being "liable" for my words, I deleted my blog. Thank you for taking away the freedom that I thought I had in telling what the public thought. 

I sure appreciate it. Remind me about this if I decide to join the military and fight for your freedom, the very one you took from me.

Now that I'm no longer at the Advocate, I must feel that I tell the general public about four of the most talented and underrated people there.

I worked for three years full-time in the Lifestyle department. That's where the Good Living, Sunday Your Life, Home&Garden, M3, Sunday Your Money&Markets and Faith sections got built. Before redesign, we also put together the Matagorda Advocate, which now is out of their hands, and one person took care of typing in all of the weddings, engagements, anniversaries, club news, etc. Now they continue to do the diversion pages and help out with other sections that I may have forgotten.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, because four ladies deserve to have their name mentioned. They are Janet Jones (Lifestyle editor and Freehand expert), Meredith Cash (senior copy editor and fastest page designer of the south), Shari Prenzler (copy editor and the most unique page designer) and Karla Woodward (community news specialist extraordinaire). I know that they don't hold these titles anymore (yeah, I exaggerated a little but I do mean what I say) but these ladies deserve much respect. I was a part of that department and couldn't ask for a better group of people to have ever worked with.

I believe in giving credit where credit is due. And theirs is long overdue. The special editions of the M3 sections (think Harry Potter and Pirates of the Caribbean) were put together by them with the assistance of the greatest creative mind out there, Ryan Huddle. Every time you pick up one of these sections, remember the names Janet, Meredith and Shari. They take pride in their work. When you need to speak to someone about events in the area, Karla has always been on top of it. I was very lucky to work with these ladies, and I'm very proud of them.

OK, if there is one thing I am a big stickler about (other than cleanliness and having ample amount of Germ X around) is customer service. Here is my question: Why is it so hard for people to give good customer service? It's not hard. All you have to do is put yourself in the customer's shoes and speak to them as how you would want to be spoken to. Service with a smile regardless of who the customer is or the attitude in which they have walking in the doors. This is especially true when they come in with a good attitude and you present yourself in a rude manner. That'll make them leave with a bad attitude.

Case in point: I went to the grocery store and bought one of those meal deals -- buy a certain item or items and you get four to five items free. When I made it up to the register, I happen to forget one of the items I had to buy for the coupons to work. The cashier (whose name shall be withheld but trust me, I did get her name and saved the receipt that has her ID) made my forgetfulness evident as she flung the coupons at me and said I have to get the second item.

After a mad dash to find this forgotten item, which coincidentally wasn't with the meal deal as the cashier announced to us, my mom and I get back up to the register. I begin to notice how she is chunking my stuff toward the back where my mom is bagging -- yeah, you read that correctly. I'm beginning to get really mad because she is tossing my groceries down that conveyer belt. BIG MISTAKE! It's bad enough that potato chips have more air than chips in their bags, but I have this little girl flinging my stuff, possibly creating nothing but crumbs. I give her my money, look at her name badge and she then bumps the register shut with a vengeance. OK. The only thing I can muster up is, "Nice customer service." (Hey, I told y'all I was sarcastic.)

My main problem with this was she gave me a vibe where I was inconveniencing her. Umm ... isn't she getting paid for me to be an "inconvenience"? Again, I work in retail. There were many days, like today, where I was constantly busy. But never would I make a customer feel like they were bothering me. Never would I rush a customer into getting what they needed just so I can move on to the next customer.

So excuse me, Miss Congeniality Cashier. Next time I spend between the hours of 7 a.m. and 3 p.m. digging for Christmas items in a trailer, putting merchandise on shelves 12 feet above the ground, putting out more Christmas stuff, restacking pallets of 20+ pound bags of deer corn, working non-stop (minus my lunch hour) in not just my department but helping for an hour in another department and clocking out for the day only to clock back in after 30 minutes to help build something outside in the heat, I will attempt to remember to get the salad that goes with my meal deal. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll try to remember to take my pills where I don't forget as much.

Now if I can only find where I left them.

One of the many off-the-wall thoughts that plagues my mind is why products claim they are 99.9 percent free of something. How is that possible? What happened to the 0.1 percent? It makes me wonder if someone got tired on the assembly line. Then, there is fat free, which I heard nothing is fat free. Someone please enlighten me.

Speaking of, let's take fat-free milk. To my understanding and someone's comment that passed through my ears, fat-free milk isn't really fat free. Well, that's just silly. That's misrepresentation of the product I spend $2-$3 on. I hope that the person who told me that is wrong, but we wouldn't know something is fat free unless we worked in the factory in which the product came from.

I will say this: I was working one day, and I saw this Christmas ornament (yes, I know, it's time) that was covered completely in glitter -- or so I thought. I turned the ornament around and saw a bald spot. That was one of those "it's-5-o'clock" ornaments, which means it was the last item of the day where the person who worked on it got it semi-completed before they raced to the timeclock. Now that, my friends, is a 99.9 percent glitter ball.

I hope furniture companies make sure their products aren't 99.9 percent free of anything. The last thing I need is for me to roll like a butterball if my bed falls or a chair breaks. I guarantee I will be 100 percent ticked.

I know that there are bridge clubs, quilters guilds and many other clubs in which members get together to discuss their respective shared hobbies, but as the years go by, it seems like these clubs are becoming members on some sort of endangered species list.

I remember when I was a little knuckle-headed kid, my mom and the other moms on the base got together and had Tupperware parties. For all the Generation Y youngsters, think of Tupperware parties like Pampered Chef parties. If you still don't know what I'm talking about, ask someone else because I'm definitely not the person who needs to be in a kitchen. (I messed up boiled eggs one time. I forgot about the science of evaporation and pop went the eggshell.) 

Nowadays, there are so many hobbies that I haven't even heard about. I found out today that one of my friends, who I shall call "Vanilla" to protect her identity, would make a game out of seeing how many people wear a certain hairstyle when she went shopping. What?! To me, that's just boredom, but it's something that keeps her entertained. Then, there are those who consider piercings, tattoos, updating MySpace profiles and looking at videos on YouTube a hobby ... wait, those are mine. Oops. But I'm sure I'm not the only one. It's difficult for kids to go outside and play when there are video game systems calling out their inner rockstar with "Guitar Hero 3."

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading, writing and, yes, blogging. I wouldn't mind learning how to sew but me + sharp objects = the apocalypse. Even I got into the whole MySpace phenomenon. Of course, I'm just there to catch up with friends and classmates. (wink, wink) It makes me wonder what kind of hobbies will crop up by the time my children have children. That's a scary thought. So scary that if anyone needs me, I'll be crawled underneath that boulder on the corner of Cedar and Peabody Streets.

Living in today's world, I have no problem saying that I'm bipolar. And face it, we all are. Not in the sense that you may be thinking, but I have my own definition being "bipolar."  

According to the dizzy mind of Wendy, being bipolar means having to become someone else in order to flow within the boundaries that society places on you. For instance, I love my job. Really I do. But because of a dress code, I'm having to take out my nose and tongue ring and become a professional sales associate. Why must I do that? Wearing my jewelry doesn't make me perform my duties any differently from when I don't wear them. I guess they consider it a distraction but as long as the bling from my nose ring doesn't blind me as I mix someone's paint, it shouldn't make a difference. Let me be the inner rockstar I know I am! Which leads me to another definition of being bipolar ..

Now, I'm the type of person who enjoys all types of music. I listen to rap, rock, R&B, pop and other genres. I have friends of all ethnic backgrounds who may or may not have the same taste in music. I have found out that hanging with my friends gave me BRD (Bipolar Rhythm Disorder). Some friends listen to rock and don't care for rap, so I listen to rock. But I can turn around and listen to rap with my other friends who don't care for rock.  You know y'all do that too so don't front.

We're a society of people suffering from some sort of bipolar disorder. Be it pushing back our "ghetto" self while working in a professional setting or going out of our comfort zone to get results. If you aren't bipolar, seek help because you may be in denial. We all become someone else at some points in our lives. That's what makes life interesting.