8/5/11 I signed up for the free help

Since I recently signed up for the free help that I luckily saw advertised while strolling through the glorious and wonderful invention we all spend incredibly too much time exploring, yet constantly criticize and secretly idolize, called the internet, I have had contact with three specific people who are willing to help me in the quest. Quite frankly, I could not do this alone, mainly, and most obviously because I have no idea what I am doing. Sure, I can ask questions to strangers, sometimes without hesitation. Difficult it is not, for me to probe around the small county of Lenoir making phone calls to people I have never seen nor spoken to, whose name were just mentioned to me in the previous conversation I had with the previous absolute stranger.
It's what I do for a living. I call people, often strangers, up and ask them questions, sometimes private questions about their businesses, how they run them, and who the main decision makers would be. My personality is built in a manner that allows me to be friendly, and direct, but enables me to maintain a good repoire with most people I come in contact with. It's my blessing. But some blessings come with stigmas.
For instance, I talk a lot. I can't keep a secret to save my life, much less my own secret, and because of my loose lips, I have jeopardized friendships, lost jobs- well those are two important enough risks that I don't need to go into it further. I must maintain my dignity at some point, right?
At any rate, my point here is, I am not afraid to say what I think, and ask questions, and over the past two years, and I will now and always give the glory to God, I have changed a lot in my delivery and reception of ideas and subjects that could be considered of a touchy nature. That said, I am totally down for this search, this bombardment of history, this very unfolding of truths and hidden agendas. Knowing me, I will find out this sought after golden information, but maybe not before many long hours of time spent doing things other than what I am supposed to be doing. I will first run the risk of losingsleep, my job, the respect of my peers, and bosses. They know I am NOT doing my job. One instance in particular, this week, my boss approached my utterly embarassingly disgusting cubicle in the sky, tatooed with printed out papers, enough to wipe out a few rainforests in Chile, and decorated with old food remnants, like empty yogurt cups, which I had intended a few days prior to wash out and recycle, but hadn't. Recycling is important to me, and it should be to everyone in my opinion. She popped in, headset and all, looked around at my desk, saw that I was doing something totally unrelated to my job of calling people and scheduling appointments, and called me out. "Do you have time for that, Brooke?" "No", I replied, all the while wishing I had just been holding a different piece of paper in my hand so she wouldn't have known what I was actually doing, and feeling slightly annoyed that she had caused me to lose my train of thought. It's wrong, but it's true. I didn't want to talk to her about whatever it was that she wanted to talk about. I was on a freaking mission to find a student at Carolina who was from Kinston in 1976 dammit. I was trying to concentrate on this incredibly small, and barely discernable font, with an even worse accompanying photo. I lost my place. I had to go to the top of the page again. There are over 100 students per page to navigate through. A small price to pay for a definition of my being. That's such an etherial description, but somehow fitting. Let me reiterate, that my boss is an awesome lady, whom I love and adore. She tells it like it is, which is a trait in most people that I respect and admire, maybe because I have been accused of being blunt on occasion. Maybe they were all right. Most likely so. It's something I'm working on.