<?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-5319212993421425180</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:23:19.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The story of my life</title><subtitle type='html'>Hello Friends,
I thought it was about time I created something of the trend and created this blog post to keep everyone updated on "The story of my life."  Check in every now and then to see the latest happenings and share the joy of life with me and all those people who make my life..awesome.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-868421982477979955</id><published>2009-05-14T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T19:00:28.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to ride my tricycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SgzIYDquMiI/AAAAAAAAADY/B7BZ5_1zdb8/s1600-h/tricycle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SgzIYDquMiI/AAAAAAAAADY/B7BZ5_1zdb8/s200/tricycle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335859974154105378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night began with a little walk.  Upon turning the corner at the blink of an eye I spotted the infamous tricycle that ignited $$$ symbols and ideas into my head.  Once again I found myself convinced that this was gonna be a big hit.  I looked around in shame as if I was about to do the unthinkable.  The tricycle sat next to pieces of a swing set and a trash can. Ethics played a crucial role in my decision making process.  I continued to look around as if God was watching my every move.  Well, not really God...just the neighbors or perhaps the home owner himself.  Trash I thought.  Out of respect and dignity I walked around the bushes of the home to the front porch.  The damn house had multiple doors.  Which door was I to knock on?  I knocked.  No answer.  Damn, I want that antique tricycle but I don't want to steal it if its not for the taking.  I walked around to door number two.  The dog in the backyard barks.  The Suburban sat in their drive.  No answer.  I glanced back at the tricycle.  Damn, I could sell it to the antique store accross the street from work.  How much would I accept?  How would I negotiate?  thoughts penetrated every fiber of my being.  I suddenly begin to get butterflies of the ideas rushing through my head.  I speed off around the block a few times and then come back later in the night to make sure it indeed is trash.  I stroll the streets of my hometown.  Time to myself I am finding myself.  I need a new career.  I'm not happy with my current one.  I could be making much more money.  What if these delapitated houses on this particular street were torn down?  What if I could develop this entire street?  Clean it up.  Buy out all these white trash folk and make this brick paved road an enchanting refuge.  The canopy of mature tress and the brick paved street would surely draw the crowds.  Who has this same vision?  What would be like to be a politician and visit each individual home and question their difficulties?  Would I be loved by the people?  What kind of difference could I make in their lives?  How would I be able to communicate to them without passing judgement?  I walk around for ten minutes.  On my way back to the tricycle I spot a charger enclosed in the grassy back yard of a delapitated neighborhood.  At one point that car was a classic.  Rusty and abandoned I wonder what it would be like to restore the car.  How much would I offer to take the car from their hands.  How sweet would it be to match up with a restorer who had the patience to teach me the tricks of making the restoration.  Titles.  Obama.  He was right.  I once was ashamed of my interests because of the titles.  Who gives a shit, I'd be doing something I enjoy.  I walk to the place of the tricycle.  It's gone.  Someone saw value in the thing.  I can't believe it.  Someone stole my jewel and some cash I could have made.  I now realize my gift.  A gift an endowment.  Thank you for it.  Fear is my only enemy.  I should have snatched it when I saw it.  Damn it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-868421982477979955?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/868421982477979955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=868421982477979955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/868421982477979955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/868421982477979955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-want-to-ride-my-tricycle.html' title='I want to ride my tricycle'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SgzIYDquMiI/AAAAAAAAADY/B7BZ5_1zdb8/s72-c/tricycle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-5386265685996864530</id><published>2009-03-29T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T21:29:07.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And yet another account</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SdBKh3an_cI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiAaBThSBNk/s1600-h/Sell+or+buy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SdBKh3an_cI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiAaBThSBNk/s200/Sell+or+buy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318833105596317122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mormons and hydrogen.  The topic was the subject of discussion and of interest to a couple of old lads at Dunn Inn in Bloomington.  In celebration of the ritual commonly known in society as "the birthday" it was my right that day to celebrate how I wished and with whom I'd spend time in the honorous day of celebration.  Quite intruiguing was a man's interest in the Mormon enterpreneurial spirit.  The discussion revolved around Dr. Miller's comment on the future of the evolution of energy and the creation of the hydrogen consuming stove and engine.  Of particular interest to me was the hydrogen vehicle.  Tesla another topic for another conversation will be researched and discussed in futue posts.  Memo to further explore the arena.  Next to conversation comes the idea of ENER ticker symbol for a stock that spearheaded my interest in investments and the science of the markets.  Study George Soros.  Read his inspiration.  Memo self.  Interruption.  Relationships of another kind.  Family members and progression.  Progression to a new level of commitment.  Love.  Expressions of affection of another kind.  Needing to feel appreciated.  Creatures of habit and vulnerability.  The dramatic science of relationship crisis'.  Although claim upon the contrary of distancing ourselves from the cancer.  It's a cancour we can't seem to displace from our presence.  Dr. Miller, a speech and language enterpreneur in the softwares of language perfection, claimed an expertise on such subject matter and devoted his time and attention to perfecting a product that will someday perfect the novice of the Enlish language.  Of particular concern is the CEO who delegates tasks to a Korean who is well capable of performing requested tasks, but yet fails in producing the product the CEO demands.  Effectiveness.  The lights dimmed.  Dunn Inn.  Zach, Elliott, Allafare, I believe his name was Adam, and Dr. Miller sit and converse with Meagan Pickle whom I will call the mistress.  Cunningly and politely she interests Zach and I to conversation over a tuna sandwich with several toppings I am unable to recall and a side of fruit she recommended.  Commercial purposes or not the conversation is intruiguing.  Villanova and Pittsburg battle it out on the screen and I suddenly find myself shifting from conversation to the battle on the television set.  Dr. Miller takes precedence.  The lights are dimming.  Earth hour has arrived.  I now realize I'm in Bloomington.  INPIRG, the organization my good friend Elliott has belonged to discloses their doing in preparation for the day.  IPL volunteers and the news hits headlines on the radio.  Energy conservation has become a hot topic of conversation for environmentalists.  The world must be coming to an end or it's perfect timing to make the right investment in the company I've been researching and tracking for the last eight years.  My chance to create millions in a recessed market or a guinea pig for the taking of my assets?  I decide.  Invest.  $15.77.  Lower than the unaffordable price of above $50.  Is there risk?  What is there to...&lt;br /&gt;Damnit nobody ever gets rich off of sitting on their assess.  What will I do...?  Sit here and wonder while time passes by and bitch as time does and reflect back on my wish have's.  Invest you bastard.  Besides who could go wrong if Mormons are investing in the damn technology.  Their a God chosen societe, right?  Perhaps they foresee the end of the world better than the epicurean proclaimed bastard typing away at meaningless conversation.  Wow, she looked amazing.  Did your friend leave?  Distraction.  No response.  I don't think I ever did.  How did she get out here.  Random.  Did she know I was making a phone call.  For a split second we stand there in the cold.  The silence is therapeutic.  The game persists.  I wonder.  Perhaps she's wondering.  The game persists.  Loyalty.  To whom.  She seems wonderful. The ideas turn to the relative.  Sidetracking we don't want her thinking of such things.  Like a hound on a scent she smells where her target is leading.  No way, we can't go that route.  The game is too thrilling, although I never meant to start it, it just happened.  She laid there that morning and I could hear her breathing.  I was quiet.  I didn't want to wake her.  I wanted to show her I cared.  "But you didn't say bye" She cared once.  Will she again?  The voice was soothing on the other end. Loyalty.  Shit.  I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-5386265685996864530?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/5386265685996864530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=5386265685996864530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/5386265685996864530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/5386265685996864530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-yet-another-account.html' title='And yet another account'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SdBKh3an_cI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiAaBThSBNk/s72-c/Sell+or+buy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-2819432036430560740</id><published>2009-03-10T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T21:40:16.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's there to complain about?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SbcZXxwYZRI/AAAAAAAAADI/rfjWweR1spw/s1600-h/Walker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SbcZXxwYZRI/AAAAAAAAADI/rfjWweR1spw/s200/Walker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311742181790737682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Consider this.  A man by the name Kenny Simmons walking in your sight one late afternoon as you drive home after work, a man whom you would later recall knowing from a different part of life.  One that would take you back to your earlier years as a naive young man; going on Dr.'s visits to the Masonic Home with your respected uncle, the physician.  Yes, I remember Kenny now, but what he did at the Masonic Home I do not recall...think David..think.  Damn, who cares, hopefully he recognizes me.  It is the second time I have seen Kenny on my drive into town in one day.  Does he need a ride?  He sure looks like he's struggling getting accross that crosswalk?  Will he recognize me?  If I pull over, how will I approach him?  What name do I call him?  Will he think I'm a psycho?  Will he understand I'm only trying to do a worthy cause?  Doubts flutter my brain and suddenly I find myself pulling over.  Kenny leaves my sight for a split second as I look in my rearview mirror and find he has already made it around Jeff Street Pub.  Without further hesitation I shut my door to my car as oncoming traffic speed by my legs only inches away.  I run around the pub and calmly cry out "Sir? Excuse me...my name is David Orton...not sure if you recognize me? I was wondering if you might be needing a ride tonight?  I know it's a great night to be walking and didn't know if you prefered to walk, but I just thought I might ask.....the mystery man of my past without hesitation responded "yes, I think I remember you.." I interrupted by finishing his sentence confirming that I knew him from the Masonic Home, upon which I asked, "What was it [you] actually did there?"  The question led into a brief conversation with a man whom I was finding I had so much in common.  He told me of his recent stroke and proudly declared he had worked at the Masonic Home for over 19 years and only missed 2 weeks in his entire career.  He told me of his humble apartment for which he was most greatful.  He told me of his postcard collection and his need to sort out the postcards once he got home.  Postcards which only minutes before our conversation were purchased at the Auction a block away.  He told me about his interest in traveling and that his favorite travel spot was Florida.  It was then that I was beginning to question the reality of why I stopped.  His interests weren't what I identified with the man.  It wasn't the postcards, the Florida vacation spot, although I do enjoy Florida.   It was the fact that I wanted to feel good about myself.  He asked of my status and my work.  I kindly replied with a sincere and truthful response that I was a single man trying to find a friend in this world.  What I failed to mention was that I was using him as my feel good potion to fill the void of emptyness I was feeling at the moment he crossed my path.  It was only then that I reached out my hand and politely asked what his name was....the rest is a story not to be told, but created.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-2819432036430560740?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/2819432036430560740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=2819432036430560740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2819432036430560740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2819432036430560740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2009/03/whats-there-to-complain-about.html' title='What&apos;s there to complain about?'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SbcZXxwYZRI/AAAAAAAAADI/rfjWweR1spw/s72-c/Walker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-8503077789358567844</id><published>2009-02-26T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T19:17:52.875-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creating my story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SadVK84u23I/AAAAAAAAAC4/J2mAGKayjSk/s1600-h/GB_howard_hughes.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SadVK84u23I/AAAAAAAAAC4/J2mAGKayjSk/s200/GB_howard_hughes.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307304332510550898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not many of you know this, but my hero in life is Howard Hughes.  "The Aviator" starring Leonardo DiCaprio caught my interest long ago and it has taken me years to confess.  I saw in Howard many of the qualities I have.  Ambition, Focus, and a love for women.  I'm also a germ-a-phobe.  Not to the same degree as Howard got, but I can't stand drinking after people or germs.  Anyways, I swung by the library today and picked up his Biography by Richard Hack.  I started the book this evening and I can't put it down.  I'm on chapter 3 and the chapter starts out describing the exact same feelings I get when I'm in elite neighborhoods.  The chapter is entitled Freedom and it begins like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some moments are etched in memory forever, translucent yet indelible.  For Howard Hughes, such a moment occurred on the fourth of January, 1925.  He alone as usual-not bored, just existing-without a job or necessary purpose in life.  It was early afternoon.  He was walking along the edge of Rice Institute and found himself passing the section of Houston known as Shadyside.  Ahead was the home of Joseph Cullinan, a magnanimous oil man and friend of his father's, who had built an estate on Remington lane and its surrounding thirty-seven acres.  He called his house Shadyside, which had then given its name to the entire development of large, stately homes being built on his subdivided land.  Most were incomplete and empty.  Dried leaves lay matted and unswept in the gutter, the branches of the great oaks naked against the harsh winter breeze.&lt;br /&gt;Howard stopped and allowed his eyes to roam across the houses, each representing an outward display of amassed wealth and successful careers.  It was then, at that moment, he realized that any one of these homes could be his.  At nineteen years of age, he had entered that rarified niche of humanity known as endless fortune.  With no hall monitor or crossing guard to guide his way or correct his behavior, he was the foremost explorer of either unlimited opportunity or unbridled excess-take your pick.  As he stared out at the mansions rising before him, he knew the choice was his to make.  It was the ultimate scary thought-that most coveted of dreams that those without money long to possess, yet when faced with actual delivery would be no more prepared to leap into quagmire of excess privilege than he was.  This would take some concentration, he knew, and he immediately began to consider his options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I wasn't born into money, I feel these same decision making scenarios starring at me daily as I make purchasing decisions.  I long await the day of my personal "Freedom" when I can roam carelessly and student debt free to consider my options.  May God bless me in my endeavor!  And may God bless me with a woman who understands my passions and desires!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-8503077789358567844?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/8503077789358567844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=8503077789358567844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/8503077789358567844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/8503077789358567844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2009/02/creating-my-story.html' title='Creating my story'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SadVK84u23I/AAAAAAAAAC4/J2mAGKayjSk/s72-c/GB_howard_hughes.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-2670594422536706867</id><published>2009-02-16T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T21:32:03.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SZpHFJx7xHI/AAAAAAAAACo/6JiAPccn2wE/s1600-h/another-day-at-the-beach-800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SZpHFJx7xHI/AAAAAAAAACo/6JiAPccn2wE/s200/another-day-at-the-beach-800.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303629665032455282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I had the best Valentines Day ever!  Hung out with some great peeps and talked business with a couple looking to move to L.A. and start a gay bar.  It's a small world when it comes to business.  These guys knew a mutual friend from High School and are in the works of getting some real estate through his connections.  I wish the best for them.  Who knows maybe I'll help them start up out there.  Speaking of California, It seems more certain than not that I will be moving out there.  Last month I was introduced to an opportunity of a lifetime in buying up some real estate in my hometown.  The price was right, the location was better than perfect, and I was ready to buy.  After much deliberation and a great talk with Aunt Flor I came to my senses and decided that California was indeed it.  My mind is set and my eyes are fixed on the destination.  I've been fortunate to pay down so much of my student debt that I'm hopefully looking at moving out there in about a year or so.  "Paying off debt is better than sex"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-2670594422536706867?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/2670594422536706867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=2670594422536706867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2670594422536706867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2670594422536706867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2009/02/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SZpHFJx7xHI/AAAAAAAAACo/6JiAPccn2wE/s72-c/another-day-at-the-beach-800.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-8332661489398710954</id><published>2008-08-07T22:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T22:48:31.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Beginning</title><content type='html'>Alright guys.  It's official.  I will begin writing the next chapter of my life tomorrow.  I am officially done with my degree.  Next stop, loan repayment.  My challenge for the next year is to beat my greatest enemy-interest.  The goal is to pay off my student loans in a year and make my first million by 40.  Nothing will stop me.  There is nothing holding me back now.  I feel just like I felt in the MTC.  Anxious to get out into the real world to solve real problems and talk to real people.  I'm excited to hit the pavement running.  I have been asked by work to begin preparing for my licensing as an assessor.  Should accomplish this task by the end of the year (all three levels).  I can't tell you how happy I am to get out into the real world and start making my ideas and dreams become reality.  But, first things first.  If I want to get anywhere in life I have to get ahead of the game and the only way to do that is to be debt free.  As I said earlier, the goal is one year.  After this first year.....WATCH OUT! I'm coming through.  I have my mother to thank for her support, emotionally, finanically, and spiritually she has been my greatest advocate.  She has always believed in me. I love her.  I can't count on my hands the number of times she has asked about when I will be receiving my diploma in the mail.  She is so proud and she should be.  She has been the one who has sacrificed the most to help me achieve my dreams.  May God bless her forever for it.  I'd also like to thank friends who have listened to my doubts and concerns and helped me along the way.  There have been many nights of restlessness, tears, and doubts, but I have accomplished my first task.  Thanks to all of you who have listened and loved me.  I'm blessed beyond measure.  This year has been a year of changes and for those of you who are close to me...know what changes I'm talking about.  Thank you for your continued love and support in my decision making process.  I owe all that I am to those with whom I surround myself.  Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-8332661489398710954?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/8332661489398710954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=8332661489398710954' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/8332661489398710954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/8332661489398710954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-beginning.html' title='The New Beginning'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-1381369077957423375</id><published>2008-08-02T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T20:41:17.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boston: My new favorite Place</title><content type='html'>We just recently moved my cousin and his family out to Boston this weekend.  All I have to say is that this place is amazing.  My cousin will be getting his MBA, hence the move.  We are so proud of him.  I will definitely be a routine visitor when chance permits.  No words can describe the beauty of this town.  The buildings are genuine and have charm like you wouldn't believe and the expanse of cultures is savoring.  I spend the evening enjoying a theatrical performance downtown, open to the public, and then some musical performances by several vendors on the sidewalks.  One of the vendors was so talented he had, at one point, over 50 people in the crowd.  The scene was majestic.  Couples of different races and families from all over the world were brought together on that sidewalk to listen to the melodies of one man picking away at some strings.  The history around me could be felt in the air and the bricked roads on some of the streets ringed back horse drawn carriages and 1800's lifestyles.  Needless to say...I'm in love with this town and it's character.  I will definitely come back for a longer visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-1381369077957423375?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/1381369077957423375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=1381369077957423375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/1381369077957423375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/1381369077957423375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/08/boston-my-new-favorite-place.html' title='Boston: My new favorite Place'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-9219780108226445235</id><published>2008-07-30T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T03:07:19.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SJA9Tq94d3I/AAAAAAAAAB0/65LSgFad6iw/s1600-h/Assessor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SJA9Tq94d3I/AAAAAAAAAB0/65LSgFad6iw/s200/Assessor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228746575537796978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The long and anticipated blog post has finally arrived.  It is my pleasure to announce that I have finally landed a job!  My position title 'Real Estate Improvement Deputy.' I can't believe I'm going to actually be getting paid to look at real estate all day.  This position fits me perfectly.  I'm in charge of assessing commercial/industrial properties in all of Johnson County.  I spent the last couple of days, with my trainer, looking at neighborhoods and recent commercial activity all over the county.  It looks like I got my work cut out for me.  The Trafalgar and Bargersville area have experienced tremedous growth.  I also just recently learned that the Center Grove area is unincorporated...meaning that pretty much any kind of development usually goes.  From my observation it seems as though this strategy promotes business development, as Center Grove area is among the most developed-residentially and commercially.  I don't believe government interference in this aspect is a good strategy for envisioning growth within city limits, but I'm not in a position to change that.  Even if I was, who knows how difficult it would be to unicorporate the city now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-9219780108226445235?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/9219780108226445235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=9219780108226445235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/9219780108226445235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/9219780108226445235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/07/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/SJA9Tq94d3I/AAAAAAAAAB0/65LSgFad6iw/s72-c/Assessor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-3778026968106214578</id><published>2008-04-04T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T21:06:09.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thumbs Down by Jean Leon Gerome</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R_b5M-dS1LI/AAAAAAAAABk/PPUTFp-LmEM/s1600-h/800px-Jean-Leon_Gerome_Pollice_Verso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R_b5M-dS1LI/AAAAAAAAABk/PPUTFp-LmEM/s200/800px-Jean-Leon_Gerome_Pollice_Verso.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185606022283318450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A recent essay in the London Review of Books — on Death in Ancient Rome by Catharine Edwards and The Death of Socrates: Hero, Villain, Chatterbox, Saint by Emily Wilson – drew my attention to the following passage in St. Augustine’s Confessions (Book VI), which describes how his young and virtuous friend Alypius became corrupted by the sight of gladiatorial combat. Though the Roman aristocracy made a great show of drawing moral lessons from public displays of death, the line between philosophy and merely sadistic voyeurism was a thin one indeed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 8. The Same When at Rome, Being Led by Others into the Amphitheatre, is Delighted with the Gladiatorial Games. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his parents had bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and there he was carried away in an extraordinary manner with an incredible eagerness after the gladiatorial shows. For, being utterly opposed to and detesting such spectacles, he was one day met by chance by various of his acquaintance and fellow-students returning from dinner, and they with a friendly violence drew him, vehemently objecting and resisting, into the amphitheatre, on a day of these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting: “Though you drag my body to that place, and there place me, can you force me to give my mind and lend my eyes to these shows? Thus shall I be absent while present, and so shall overcome both you and them.” They hearing this, dragged him on nevertheless, desirous, perchance, to see whether he could do as he said. When they had arrived thither, and had taken their places as they could, the whole place became excited with the inhuman sports. But he, shutting up the doors of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam abroad after such naughtiness; and would that he had shut his ears also! For, upon the fall of one in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole audience stirring him strongly, he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to despise and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the other, whom he desired to see, was in his body; and he fell more miserably than he on whose fall that mighty clamour was raised, which entered through his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of his soul, which was bold rather than valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on itself, which ought to have depended on You. For, directly he saw that blood, he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness; nor did he turn away, but fixed his eye, drinking in madness unconsciously, and was delighted with the guilty contest, and drunken with the bloody pastime. Nor was he now the same he came in, but was one of the throng he came unto, and a true companion of those who had brought him thither. Why need I say more? He looked, shouted, was excited, carried away with him the madness which would stimulate him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but also before them, yea, and to draw in others. And from all this did Thou, with a most powerful and most merciful hand, pluck him, and taughtest him not to repose confidence in himself, but in You - but not till long after.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-3778026968106214578?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/3778026968106214578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=3778026968106214578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/3778026968106214578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/3778026968106214578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/04/thumbs-down-by-jean-leon-gerome.html' title='Thumbs Down by Jean Leon Gerome'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R_b5M-dS1LI/AAAAAAAAABk/PPUTFp-LmEM/s72-c/800px-Jean-Leon_Gerome_Pollice_Verso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-2912995420154451139</id><published>2008-03-16T15:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T15:39:15.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R92dcszo2QI/AAAAAAAAABc/0YbuihZI4ZI/s1600-h/cars-783297.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R92dcszo2QI/AAAAAAAAABc/0YbuihZI4ZI/s200/cars-783297.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178468262935582978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not much of a break, but it feels good to finally be earning some money for once.  I spent the week doing yard work and detailing cars.  The endeavor has sparked some business ideas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-2912995420154451139?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/2912995420154451139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=2912995420154451139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2912995420154451139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2912995420154451139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/03/spring-break.html' title='Spring Break'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R92dcszo2QI/AAAAAAAAABc/0YbuihZI4ZI/s72-c/cars-783297.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-838505750204266818</id><published>2008-03-05T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T19:55:24.414-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Power of a Dollar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R89mJSEucvI/AAAAAAAAABU/425C2iBzzyU/s1600-h/Dollar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R89mJSEucvI/AAAAAAAAABU/425C2iBzzyU/s200/Dollar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174466806528504562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I experienced this phenomenon called inflation and it was scary.  Bajios is a restaurant that offered students discounts on meals.  Five dollars and fifty cents bought me an entire meal and a drink; it was more than enough to fill my 140lb. body with enough fats to last me a lifetime.  Unfortunately thirty minutes before I showed up they discontinued the special.  My meal costs me six dollars and fifty cents.  I began to wonder about the people all across America who might be encountering the same phenomenon the markets call "inflation."  For the first time I experienced it directly.  I realized how psychologically dependent I am on my habits.  Despite the hefty price on my meal I couldn't resist and still purchased.  I came to grips with reality and committed to change my habits of eating out all the time.  You know the economy is doing poorly when inflation begins infecting our basic goods.  Times are getting tight and suddenly I'm finding my dreams of being wealthy fading away...slowly.  Perhaps this is not my purpose.  That will be difficult to come to grips with.  But, on I must...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-838505750204266818?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/838505750204266818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=838505750204266818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/838505750204266818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/838505750204266818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/03/power-of-dollar.html' title='The Power of a Dollar'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R89mJSEucvI/AAAAAAAAABU/425C2iBzzyU/s72-c/Dollar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-7184789135063589319</id><published>2008-02-24T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T17:54:02.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Roots</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R8H8XJzK4XI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fwatq0IAak4/s1600-h/guadalajara+coat+of+arms.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R8H8XJzK4XI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fwatq0IAak4/s200/guadalajara+coat+of+arms.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170691321895772530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above is the Guadalajara, Jalisco Mexico coat of arms.  It represents the beginnings of my childhood.  Born the third month in the year 1980, I spent the first five years of childhood living with a couple of aunts, uncles, and my grandmother.  In 1985, my mother and I paid a visit to an aunt living in Franklin, Indiana at the time.  She had a son my age and we became like brothers.  To this day, we maintain a close bond.  It was during this visit that mother met my stepfather at a Singles Dance at church.  They couldn't understand each other because my mother spoke no english and my father spoke no spanish, but they somehow fell in love.  I always kid my mom that she only did it to get the papers to become legalized, but to this day they have raised my two younger sisters and I.  These sisters mean the world to me.  After one year of visiting this aunt we treked it back to Guadalajara for my parents engagement and paperwork to be finalized.  We eventually made it back into the U.S. at age 6 or so where I was immediately enrolled in preschool and I started my language learning skills.  My mother in Mexico, worked for the Mexican government as a secretary to support all of us in the household and was gone for most of the day.  My father, Maximiliano, had no part of my childhood growing up.  My mother wanted nothing to do with him and would never permit him to take me out by myself of fear that he would abduct me.  According to my mothers story he was a "lazy son of a bitch," she would say.  As for knowledge about his side of the family, I know little.  From memory I can recall "Tio Alfredo--" a tall 6'3" green eyed man that really cared for me and an aunt with pale skin and blue colored eyes, story has it she was beautiful.  I remember my grandmother, my father's mother, being short and frail; always wearing an apron and doing chores in the kitchen.  I'm curious as to my geneology.  Is there any criollo running through our veins or are we full descendants of American Indians?  The question has been boggling my mind for a couple of years now, and one of my goals is to take a trip to Mexico to see these relatives before they have gone.  The little neighborhood where we lived was called "Colonia Oblatos"--ghetto then by our standards now, but back then it was home.  "2132" was the number of the blue house that has taken years of sacrifice to updgrade and maintain to its highest standards.  Abuelita lives there now, and is loving every minute of it.  The areas has been cleaned up and now houses the middle class. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R8ILa5zK4YI/AAAAAAAAABM/-JQ864loemg/s1600-h/downtownguadalajara.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R8ILa5zK4YI/AAAAAAAAABM/-JQ864loemg/s200/downtownguadalajara.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170707878994698626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guadalajara now is the second most populous city in Mexico and is the State of Jaliscos' capital.  The city is named after the Spanish city of Guadalajara, whose name originates from the Arabic word (وادي الحجرة) "wadii al-Hajara", which may mean "river of stones", "valley of stones", or "valley of the fortress".  According to FDi magazine, Guadalajara is ranked "city of the future" over all other major Mexican cities, has the second strongest economic potential of any major North American city behind Chicago, and was among the top five most business-friendly Latin American cities in 2007.  I'm most proud of Guadalajara's most recent development project "Puerta de Hierro."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-7184789135063589319?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/7184789135063589319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=7184789135063589319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/7184789135063589319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/7184789135063589319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-roots.html' title='My Roots'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R8H8XJzK4XI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fwatq0IAak4/s72-c/guadalajara+coat+of+arms.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-3956140319862114824</id><published>2008-02-17T15:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T16:18:19.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>La Fiesta</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R7jLMZzK4UI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wSCB6Xo-lTw/s1600-h/stressed%2520person.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R7jLMZzK4UI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wSCB6Xo-lTw/s320/stressed%2520person.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168103986352021826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This past week has brought about some of the most interesting emotions that I find this image appropriate.  School is becoming incredibly time consuming and sometimes I wonder how everything turns out for the best in the long run.  Valentines Day brought out some great company.  A few friends and I went out to celebrate to some Jazz and dinner.  The company was wonderful. This week will be another busy one with tests, presentations, and group projects.  You gotta love the business school for keeping us out of trouble and occupied.  On another note: On Saturday, Fred had some people over to celebrate IU's win against Michigan State and to celebrate Becky's birthday (his girl-friend).  She apparently celebrated too early and crashed on Fred's bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-3956140319862114824?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/3956140319862114824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=3956140319862114824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/3956140319862114824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/3956140319862114824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-past-week-has-brought-about-some.html' title='La Fiesta'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R7jLMZzK4UI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wSCB6Xo-lTw/s72-c/stressed%2520person.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319212993421425180.post-2278649211956365764</id><published>2008-02-10T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T22:39:12.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation is fast approaching!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_OG5zK4SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/oU1fxqi3s00/s1600-h/Sample+gates.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_OG5zK4SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/oU1fxqi3s00/s320/Sample+gates.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165573915607228706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The time is fast approaching! Graduation is almost here and I'm ready to start writing the next chapter of my life.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but for the meantime, I am preparing for tomorrow.  I have two interviews lined up for February and look forward to a position with JP Morgan Chase or Sherwin Williams.  I'm attracted to the autonomy that the Financial Auditor position offers with Sherwin Williams and look forward to traveling 50% of the time.  It offers an opportunity to do a little bit of consulting work and financial analysis, while at the same time helping the branches' growth.  I love looking at what the numbers are telling me and getting people to implement action based on those numbers.  At the same time I'd love a position with JP Morgan.  It offers an opportunity to work with people and learn the banking side of business and their investment products.  I'd love the position because it offers a chance to be exposed to the markets and the science behind economics.  I love this! Wish me luck in my endeavors.  In the meantime, I'm also daydreaming about business ventures in real estate.  Oh, how I wish I would someday own a huge downtown building....that would be the dream!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5319212993421425180-2278649211956365764?l=hectordavidorton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/feeds/2278649211956365764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5319212993421425180&amp;postID=2278649211956365764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2278649211956365764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5319212993421425180/posts/default/2278649211956365764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hectordavidorton.blogspot.com/2008/02/graduation-is-fast-approaching.html' title='Graduation is fast approaching!'/><author><name>H. David Orton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_IrJzK4QI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T2rsTMKLChQ/S220/IMGP0570.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-jIsEwX5BD0/R6_OG5zK4SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/oU1fxqi3s00/s72-c/Sample+gates.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
