<?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-8090336300872922018</id><updated>2011-08-03T20:36:42.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Symphony of Sound</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>147</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1348631321607447407</id><published>2010-05-17T23:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T23:29:37.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture Perfect</title><content type='html'>Everything is perfect.  Well...not everything, but for now, as of right now.&lt;br /&gt;This is perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You&lt;br /&gt;drive&lt;br /&gt;me&lt;br /&gt;insane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way you hold me, kiss me,&lt;br /&gt;heck...&lt;br /&gt;even the way you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;smile&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's like...&lt;br /&gt;the world stops spinning&lt;br /&gt;my heart beats so much faster&lt;br /&gt;everything seems to sound like a soppy love letter&lt;br /&gt;but damn&lt;br /&gt;your smile&lt;br /&gt;you&lt;br /&gt;just&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's making all of this worth while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1348631321607447407?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1348631321607447407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/05/picture-perfect.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1348631321607447407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1348631321607447407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/05/picture-perfect.html' title='Picture Perfect'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1109847216759454584</id><published>2010-04-28T14:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T14:56:19.391-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Break Up</title><content type='html'>I am so sorry!&lt;br /&gt;I've betrayed you my beloved blogspot, I betrayed you and cheated on you with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tumblr!&lt;/span&gt; *dun dun duhhhhhhhhn*&lt;br /&gt;I am really truly sorry, but it's just.&lt;br /&gt;Tumblr is pretty nifty,&lt;br /&gt;don't get me wrong,&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE LOVE LOVE editing HTML and such, but sometimes it gets a little tiring and I want something... something simple.&lt;br /&gt;I know it must hurt, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha..sorry, I've gotta stop, it sounds like a break up...with a blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tbh, I really won't be using this as much anymore, besides, I doubt anyone even reads this, which is okay, because it is hard to find blogs via blogger (in my opinion).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1109847216759454584?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1109847216759454584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/break-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1109847216759454584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1109847216759454584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/break-up.html' title='The Break Up'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2168042122673370623</id><published>2010-03-09T20:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T21:03:52.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Place Catchy Title Here</title><content type='html'>To start off, How I Met Your Mother is the best show in the world.  Even the jokes they make about Canadians are hilarious.  Although, I would love to meet the Canadian who says "aboot" that apparently we all say.  Silly Americans...&lt;br /&gt;The jokes about our health care is also pretty awesome, because ours is free haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, life is okay.  Going to a funeral on Friday, which I am not looking forward to.  I don't know what it is, but the whole final goodbye thing is what always gets me, even when I hear about the death, it doesn't really hit me until it...well until it hits me or I see it for myself. Death is such a messy business, and yeah I know it's a part of life, but I'm pretty should we could &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;live&lt;/span&gt; without it.  Haha...g.get it? Live without it? :S&lt;br /&gt;But on the otherhand, I'm not one who is up to living forever either.  I think that would be lame, imagine living forever, and watching all the people you knew die... yeah, I know you're thinking about the Green Mile too.  Although, the mouse was pretty cool...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note: eating the best chicken salad ever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my first post in March, and I guess I should give a little speal about my love, who at one point, was kind of not my love...nbd.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, there isn't anything to "report" on it or anything, nothings really changed, but we haven't been fighting lately, so I guess that is a change for the better.  It's awesome seeing him happy, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and just making jokes and stuff..  Haha, I will refrain from gushing on and on about this &gt;&lt; Sometimes he even thinks I'm sappy bahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is getting out of hand, I am absolutely sure that I am failing math and chemistry and I don't understand anything of what we learn in those classes.  &lt;br /&gt;The stress is driving me insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2168042122673370623?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2168042122673370623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/place-catchy-title-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2168042122673370623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2168042122673370623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/place-catchy-title-here.html' title='Place Catchy Title Here'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1503085806439139431</id><published>2010-02-25T20:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T20:26:14.607-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay so I lied.&lt;br /&gt;I said that I wouldn't change the layout of my blog anymore.&lt;br /&gt;But, I lied and I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I sort of started a tumblr...I know, I've cheated on your blogspot, and I want to come back to you.  &lt;br /&gt;Tumblr is lame and confusing and gives me no artistic freedom with the layouts.&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; my lovely blogspot.  YOU give me the freedom that I need.&lt;br /&gt;So hopefully you'll take me back?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1503085806439139431?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1503085806439139431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/okay-so-i-lied.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1503085806439139431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1503085806439139431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/okay-so-i-lied.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5273108035543305426</id><published>2010-02-20T21:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T21:29:23.388-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If You Could Read My Mind You'd Be In Tears</title><content type='html'>H'okay, so I wrote this poem thingy, and it's not very good, but it turned out better than I thought it would.  Don't get mad at me because it doesn't rhyme or anything, but still. &lt;div&gt;Note that it isn't true but it sort of reflects how I felt at the present moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You don't love me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;And you never did.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;It's been three months since you done called me,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;What is it that I had done to make you run?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;I gave you my everything and my all&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;I gave you me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;And still every night&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;I lay awake dying &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;Waiting to hear your voice&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;Funny how I used to love you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;Breathe you, hold you, know you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;But now there is nothing left of you and I&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;And all that is left is these tears that I cry&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;Because you lied&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;Because you told me you loved me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;That you would never leave me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;That you would &lt;span style="font-style:italic"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; be there for me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;But here I am love&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;You told me you loved me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;And you left behind your own son&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p style="margin:0in;font-family:Calibri;font-size:11.0pt"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5273108035543305426?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5273108035543305426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/if-you-could-read-my-mind-youd-be-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5273108035543305426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5273108035543305426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/if-you-could-read-my-mind-youd-be-in.html' title='If You Could Read My Mind You&apos;d Be In Tears'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4959188542124130325</id><published>2010-02-16T23:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T23:27:32.567-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>Valentine's Day, as I saw it before once, was just another holiday to spend money and to have it rubbed in your face that you're single, eating chocolates by yourself...&lt;div&gt;But, I guess everyone who is single (almost everyone) feels down around this time of year, and that it's probably always significantly better when you have someone special to share it with.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I know, it may sound like I'm rubbing it in, but let me indulge myself, this is the first Valentine's Day that I have actually had a Valentine, and not even a spur-of-the-moment date, but an actual boyfriend, someone I love and trust and want to spend time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah, that's the best kind of Valentine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So let me divulge on how this spectacular day went.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although it has nothing to do with Valentine's Day, I've started practicing with the concert band that my uncle and his father are a part of, called the Music Society of St. Helen's (may be flipped a bit, it's a porkchop band hehe).  But it was really fun, and to my surprise, I was able to play along with most of the songs that were practiced, that is, once I got over my horrified demeanor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after the practice, I picked up the love of my life from his house, and we were dropped off at my house.  We hung around for a bit, and we decided to go out for dinner at Japanese Buffet, which, is quite delicious actually.  After dinner, we watched Avatar, the greatest movie of all time, &lt;i&gt;of all time!!!&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Afterwards, we walked home, and this little trek was quite romantic to me, I enjoy late night walks, no matter how cheesy anyone says that is.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most memorable part of the evening, was when I was laying my head on your chest, listening to your heart beat, and you said something like "I wrote you this song, it only beats for you..." and boy, well, you know my heart only beats for you, and saying that drives me even crazier still for you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DFTBA and don't forget to love strong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4959188542124130325?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4959188542124130325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4959188542124130325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4959188542124130325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8039168971023603484</id><published>2010-01-21T21:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T21:55:30.818-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love You</title><content type='html'>I love the way you look at me, the way you make me smile.  I can't resist your irresistable lips or your eyes, or the softneess of your touch.&lt;br /&gt;I love the way you grab and hold me tight, because it feels like you never really want to let go.&lt;br /&gt;I love the way you into my eyes, and even if I'm upset or hurting, I know that everything will be better because I'm right here with you.&lt;br /&gt;The way you kiss me, says more than words could ever say.&lt;br /&gt;The way you hold me, brush my hair out of my face.  The way you ...the way you talk to me, and reassure me even when I don't believe in myself.&lt;br /&gt;I love the way you love me, because you do it better, so much better, than anyone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8039168971023603484?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8039168971023603484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-love-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8039168971023603484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8039168971023603484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-love-you.html' title='I Love You'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3256388189670097298</id><published>2010-01-12T16:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T16:49:28.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP...</title><content type='html'>Rest In Peace Miep Gies :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3256388189670097298?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3256388189670097298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/rip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3256388189670097298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3256388189670097298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/rip.html' title='RIP...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-330933645749828989</id><published>2010-01-11T22:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T22:43:50.262-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Felt Like I Needed To...</title><content type='html'>Just felt like I needed to blog today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I found out that one of my old friends is a lying....I would say whore, but that's mean.&lt;br /&gt;I probably shouldn't go into the story because other people might get involved and it's really none of my business and I really wish I didn't know anything about it in the first place, so...I won't go into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today though, I prefected the prologue of my novel (haha) and have a main idea of the plot, but it's still pretty vague, to be honest.  I may just wing it as I go along.  Hopefully all goes well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picked up two new books over the weekend, this huge as book that's around 800-900 pages that is pretty good, the first chapter made me cry a little, so you know its a riveting tale haha.  The second book is by Judy Blume ! Which I am excited to read because I love her novels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I discovered that even though some people really don't care about how you are or whatever, there are some people, some very &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; few people that actually do care.  I found that out today, and I kind of feel bad because I'm so used to people not caring it's like...what do I do now? It's almost like I'm taking advantage of the person because I probably don't need them worrying about me in the first place you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, phone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-330933645749828989?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/330933645749828989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/felt-like-i-needed-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/330933645749828989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/330933645749828989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/felt-like-i-needed-to.html' title='Felt Like I Needed To...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7318039407920373279</id><published>2010-01-08T22:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T22:50:36.788-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love.</title><content type='html'>I have the best boyfriend in the world.  I quite possibly, am dating the best guy ever.  Yeah, I truly believe that that is possible. &lt;br /&gt;I used to worry about never feeling this feeling, you know, falling in love, and actually having that feeling returned back to you, perhaps even greater than you did in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;I think I love him more though, but he likes to think he does, so...we'll let him think that for now... haha.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so grateful for getting to be with someone who means so much to me, and who truly loves me and makes me feel comfortable.  I love not being able to even think about being with anyone else, because I know that no one else works like we do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7318039407920373279?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7318039407920373279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7318039407920373279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7318039407920373279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/love.html' title='Love.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5382010754889135612</id><published>2010-01-06T17:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T17:37:55.879-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At Last,,,</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"there's some boy out there that's going to like you for everything you are, including the things you don't like about yourself, and those will be the things he will like the most"&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one.  Glee is the best show ever.&lt;br /&gt;And two, I am loving this happy period in my life right now.  Even though  exams are pretty soon and classes are getting real busy, I am so happy.&lt;br /&gt;Do you know why I'm happy? Because I have the love of my life in my life haha.&lt;br /&gt;And I love that because I am happy, he is happy, I never realized it was truly that simple.  I think all this time, I was just overthinking everything and worrying about what I needed to not do instead of what I needed to do do (haha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5382010754889135612?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5382010754889135612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/theres-some-boy-out-there-thats-going.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5382010754889135612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5382010754889135612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/theres-some-boy-out-there-thats-going.html' title='At Last,,,'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1432139496156142299</id><published>2010-01-04T18:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T18:34:53.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Again...</title><content type='html'>You've probably noticed the new layout, I know, I love editing HTML and stuff like that, I promise I won't change it for a while, this took a while to do anyway, so yeah, hope you like it and it should be easier to rad than the one before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I was dreading going back to school today, it was surprisingly good, I actually had fun (minus first period religion).  English went by pretty fast, music was fun as always and Anthro...I can't really complain, there was just a lot of note taking today, and most likely it will be the same tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is going great though, I feel a lot better and even though exams are coming up, I don't quite feel nervous about them yet, that may change, but as for now, it's looking pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;Everything with my love is going seemingly well, he bought me Starbucks today and brought it to my class ♥ How thoughtful and sweet. &lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1432139496156142299?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1432139496156142299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1432139496156142299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1432139496156142299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-again.html' title='New Again...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6360841950891302625</id><published>2010-01-03T15:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T15:26:12.432-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I agree with more than 75% of these.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#1 When you break her heart, the pain never really goes away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 When she misses you, she's hurting inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 When she says it's over, she still wants you to be hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#4 When she walks away from you mad, follow her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 When she stares at your mouth, kiss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6 When she pushes or hits you, grab her tight &amp;amp; don't let her go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7 When she starts cursing at you, kiss her and tell her you love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#8 When she ignores you, give her your attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#9 When she pulls away, pull her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#10 When you see her at her worst, tell her she's beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#11 When you see her crying, just hold her and don't say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#12 When you see her walking, sneak up and hug her waist from behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#13 When she's scared, protect her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#14 When she lays her head on your shoulder, tilt her head up and kiss her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#15 When she steals your favourite jacket, let her keep it and sleep with it for a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#16 When she teases you, tease her back and make her laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#17 When she doesn't answer for a long time, reassure her that everything is okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#18 When she looks at you with doubt, back yourself up with the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#19 When she says that she likes you, she really does more than you could understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#20 When she grabs your hands, hold hers and play with her fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#21 When she bumps into you, bump into her back and make her laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#22 When she tells you a secret, keep it safe and untold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#23 When she looks at you in your eyes, don’t look away until she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#24 Stay on the phone with her even if she’s not saying anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#25 Don't let her have the last word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#26 Don't call her hot, but gorgeous or beautiful is so much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#27 Say you love her more than she could ever love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#28 Argue that she is the best girl ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#29 When she's mad, hug her tight and don't let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#30 When she says she's OK, don’t believe it, talk to&lt;br /&gt;her about it, because 10 yrs later she'll still remember it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#31 Call her at 12:00am on special occasions to tell her you love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#32 Call her before you sleep and after you wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#33 Treat her like she's all that matters to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#34 Don't ignore her when she's out with you and your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#35 Stay up all night with her when she's sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#36 Watch her favorite movie with her or her favorite show even if you think its stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#37 Let her into your world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#38 Let her wear your clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#39 When she's bored and sad, hang out with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#40 Let her know she's important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#41 Kiss her in the pouring rain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#42 When she runs up at you crying, the first thing you say is; "Who's ass am I kicking today baby?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#43 After she reads this, she hopes one day you'd read it too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6360841950891302625?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6360841950891302625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-agree-with-more-than-75-of-these.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6360841950891302625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6360841950891302625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-agree-with-more-than-75-of-these.html' title='I agree with more than 75% of these.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3320773032856108140</id><published>2010-01-03T14:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T14:10:09.001-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Years Resolutions</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I am going to list my resolutions that I have now, I may add more throughout January as I think of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;get in shape&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stop procrastinating&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;get a job&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stop being such a crybaby&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stop causing fights&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;learn to suck it up and deal with things&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;learn to ask for help more often&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;get my grades in shape&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;love even harder than ever&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;start eating properly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stop procrastinating&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;STOP PROCRASTINATING&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;get into a good university (but i guess that counts for next year too)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;at least attempt ideas for a book&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;write in my blog at least once a month (which should be no problem at all)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;change at least one persons life for the better&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3320773032856108140?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3320773032856108140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-years-resolutions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3320773032856108140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3320773032856108140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-years-resolutions.html' title='New Years Resolutions'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1577501199135668488</id><published>2010-01-03T13:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T14:05:06.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This year hasn't started off as spectacular as I thought it would have.  I feel like shit, like...I can't stop crying, I can't get inspired to do anything productive, when I do do something, I'm zoned out and not into it at all.  I can't shake this feeling off.  What's worse, for some reason I feel like my relationship isn't going well, most likely because of the way I am feeling right now, that is probably effecting it.  There might not even be anything wrong, but I have this nagging feeling that there might be, and no one is going to tell me anything anytime soon.  I want to talk to him about this, but sometimes he doesn't listen, or I get so upset over...to be honest, nothing, and there is no communication.  We can't really talk like adults, and it worries me, but I think that that will pass eventually, it's just a little rut, I think.  No, I hope.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to talk about this with him, I don't what to say exactly to express how I feel, I just feel, that we're so routine now and it's...boring? No.  I don't know exactly what it is anymore.  Maybe it's just this rut I am in personally that is making me feel this way, and when I think about it, it does make a lot of sense. &lt;br /&gt;So I don't really know what I'm going to do about it right now...we will see how I try and get out of this stupid, stupid problem with my emotions.  This should be a great year, but right now, I seem to be holding myself back, I need more motiviation, I need...I don't know what I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1577501199135668488?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1577501199135668488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-year-hasnt-started-off-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1577501199135668488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1577501199135668488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-year-hasnt-started-off-as.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4468994145421416822</id><published>2010-01-02T23:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T23:14:51.558-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really needed you tonight.  A break down in the middle ofdinner while company is over probably...technically qualifies as a need to talk to you. You said that whenever I needed to talk to you, whenever I felt that I needed to take things out on myself, you would be there....But tonight, you let me down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4468994145421416822?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4468994145421416822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-really-needed-you-tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4468994145421416822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4468994145421416822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-really-needed-you-tonight.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-9137673296490648115</id><published>2010-01-02T21:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:47:07.808-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/S0AEI78BFfI/AAAAAAAAAE8/7MBLFNPu8UQ/s1600-h/100_0086.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/S0AEI78BFfI/AAAAAAAAAE8/7MBLFNPu8UQ/s200/100_0086.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422338502928963058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So New Years was pretty amazing.  Minus (of course) sonme minor (and one major) details.&lt;br /&gt;Drinking a little bit, probably not the best idea, especially while listening to catchy songs that I apparently try to dance and sing to and fail miserably, but it's all in good fun. &lt;br /&gt;Getting to spend New Years Eve with the love of my life is something I will never want to miss again, I can't wait to do it next year and the year after that and the year after that and the year after that...&lt;br /&gt;Had a little scare on the first day of 2010, but... well it's fixed, I guess, but somehow I am still shaken up about it and just...I feel terrible.  Just...seeing him jerk away from me, and all I could do was stand there...It was horrifying.  I never want that to happen again.&lt;br /&gt;But besides that, I think it was pretty darn fun, and worth all the trouble and the crap with my mother, she got what she wanted and I got to spend the holidays with my love.  Good deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA this 2010 :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: Keep that new year's resolution.&lt;br /&gt;Second note to self: stop being so negative this year&lt;br /&gt;Third note to self: GET IN SHAPE&lt;br /&gt;Fourth note to self: Get a damn job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-9137673296490648115?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9137673296490648115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9137673296490648115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9137673296490648115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!!!'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/S0AEI78BFfI/AAAAAAAAAE8/7MBLFNPu8UQ/s72-c/100_0086.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8707726464773232959</id><published>2009-12-31T08:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T08:16:12.195-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fairwell to 2009</title><content type='html'>So today is December 31.  The last day of 2009. &lt;br /&gt;For this day, I get to go to Kingston to spend New Years Eve with my boyfriend and my mom and sister, along with some family and their friends.&lt;br /&gt;I  hope it's as fun as I hope it's going to be, but there is little doubt in my mind that it won't meet my expectations.  As low as they are.&lt;br /&gt;New Years Eve has never been special for me really, we'd all fall asleep and one of us would starting banging shit, and then we would all go to bed, no biggie.  This year, I have someone I truly care for and love to spend it with, so that's a bonus, and it's all I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;br /&gt;See you in 2010.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8707726464773232959?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8707726464773232959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/fairwell-to-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8707726464773232959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8707726464773232959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/fairwell-to-2009.html' title='Fairwell to 2009'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4558576680879175141</id><published>2009-12-30T01:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T01:16:28.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 class="me"&gt;hap⋅pi⋅ness&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div class="body"&gt; &lt;div class="pbk"&gt;&lt;span class="pg"&gt;–noun &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td class="dnindex" width="35"&gt;1.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;td&gt;the quality or state of being happy.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt; &lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td class="dnindex" width="35"&gt;2.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;td&gt;good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;hr class="ety"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span class="sectionLabel"&gt;Antonyms:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="secondary-bf"&gt;&lt;span&gt;1.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;misery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4558576680879175141?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4558576680879175141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/happiness-noun-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4558576680879175141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4558576680879175141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/happiness-noun-1.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3351716273949985978</id><published>2009-12-29T23:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T23:35:09.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is How I Feel...</title><content type='html'>This quote shows how I see ourselves when we're together, how it...hopefully feels to you as much as it does to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;words paint a much more romantic picture. He focuses of the fluidity of her body, the way her hands feel against his face, the way his hands feel against her body. He is active; his desire for her paramount. As he relives the scene after she falls asleep, he is content with not taking any of her clothes off; he is content with just kissing and touching.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;This is....everything.&lt;br /&gt;This is...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfection&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3351716273949985978?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3351716273949985978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-how-i-feel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3351716273949985978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3351716273949985978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-how-i-feel.html' title='This is How I Feel...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2665977570569516629</id><published>2009-12-29T23:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T23:18:12.378-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't want to be around anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I think, to be honest, that everyones lives would be so much simpler if I wasn't here.  Like, my being here makes everything worse and if I had never met any of these people...their lives would be so much better.&lt;br /&gt;Just existing makes everyone upset.  I ruin everything, and I'm just evil for doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is the point?&lt;br /&gt;There is none.  That's the point I think.  Which probably makes going away easier. &lt;br /&gt;Nobody would miss me.  I doubt that anyone would blink twice when they realized I wasn't around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Years everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2665977570569516629?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2665977570569516629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-want-to-be-around-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2665977570569516629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2665977570569516629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-want-to-be-around-anymore.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3991320468880283893</id><published>2009-12-28T21:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T21:13:00.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crayons.</title><content type='html'>Friends Collection, almost complete! Still need seasons two, three and ten.  (haha the three t's).  But yeah, watching season nine right now, hopefully there are some episodes on this season that I haven't seen yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff fell apart at the house today.  Celena is a stuck up bitch sometimes and doesn't care about anyone but herself which then set my mom off and she had one of her bitch fits.  She yelled at me, but... I'm not getting into at all, I just shut the hell up and ate my damn dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3991320468880283893?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3991320468880283893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/crayons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3991320468880283893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3991320468880283893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/crayons.html' title='Crayons.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8834862765270118624</id><published>2009-12-28T14:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T14:32:26.678-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Under Lock and Key</title><content type='html'>Life is going pretty swell, minus the minor altercation that just happened a moment ago.  My mother is so up tight all the time, and Celena...well she's just your typical stuck up teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But besides that, the past few days have been pretty nice, bowling with my baby and his sister and her boyfriend.  Then shopping yesterday with the same people haha, which was fun, minus some perverts at the food court.  Got some nice stuff, don't have any money left too.&lt;br /&gt;Going shopping again today, with my mom and sister, which kind of blows, because I'm so tired of shopping, two days in a row is not cool.  Plus, we're going to Sherway or whatever, so it's super far, and I'm so sick and tired of being in cars for long periods of time, I need a break.  I just want to stay home and relax before school starts again  *sigh*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got some new books! (Yeah, I realize that it's nerdy to be excited about books, but whatever) and I've started reading them all, and they are all so good I don't know which one to focus on first! I got Suite Scarlett by Maureen Johnson.  Jump Cut (it's a Criminal Minds book) by Max Allan Collins and I also got this book The Musicians Daughter by Susanne Dunlap, it's like a historical fiction book and one of the characters is Haydn, so it's pretty interesting, I think I'm farthest in this book than any of the others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Years Eve is coming soon! Planned to go to Nathan Phillips Square with the same people as bowling and shopping, and hopefully it won't be too chilly.  I hope it's a magical night.  I've always wanted to spend New Years with someone I loved, besides family of course.  And it is one of those things that I will want to keep doing with that same person every year.  Hopefully :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright well, time to go drag myself around some giant ass mall, I just realized, I've never actually been through the entire Sherway Gardens before, I think I've only been on the first floor, unless I am thinking of a different mall....which most likely is the case.  Oh, I am.  I'm thinking of that huge ass mall we went to in Ottawa on the grade ten history trip.  That was fun times, and also....yeah good times but also some stupid mistakes.  We'll leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8834862765270118624?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8834862765270118624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/under-lock-and-key.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8834862765270118624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8834862765270118624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/under-lock-and-key.html' title='Under Lock and Key'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3920504688290100511</id><published>2009-12-26T16:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T16:38:50.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pointless</title><content type='html'>I wanna type...but I don't? You know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, I need to type something, but there is nothing to type about, which results in pointless entries like this one...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3920504688290100511?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3920504688290100511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/pointless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3920504688290100511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3920504688290100511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/pointless.html' title='Pointless'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7749158834646438614</id><published>2009-12-26T16:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T16:24:56.388-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Enough</title><content type='html'>Today was basically a laze around day.  Was supposed to go boxing day shopping but those plans flopped, so today is just a day.  Watching a marathon of all those Bring It On movies, they're actually really enjoyable, I love cheerleading movies, even if it is peppy and strange haha. &lt;br /&gt;And I love the drama, mostly because it's not my own, but at some points if I were in the same position, I would have hit the bitch, especially in the third movie.  I'd punch Winnie in the face :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, besides that, nothing else is new, trying to decide on what  I really should buy tomorrow whe I go shopping, if I even go, but yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remembered that I have homework to do and I was supposed to keep a journal of one thing I'm greatful for each day, I haven't even started.  Most likely, I am going to make everything up off the top of my hair the last day of the break.  Otherwise, I'm going to be slaving away on my Frankenstein questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I wish Christmas had never ended.  Things were happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7749158834646438614?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7749158834646438614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/simple-enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7749158834646438614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7749158834646438614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/simple-enough.html' title='Simple Enough'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2035708759233868756</id><published>2009-12-25T19:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T19:01:33.599-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!!!</title><content type='html'>OH MAN&lt;br /&gt;Best Christmas ever I gotta say.&lt;br /&gt;Lots of family&lt;br /&gt;FOOD&lt;br /&gt;and love of course ;D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post more maybe tomorrow or whenever I'm free during this whirlwind of family and friends and crazy plans, or you know, playing around on my new laptop, so now I can post whenever the fuck I want :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hope everyone is having a safe and wonderful Christmas&lt;br /&gt;♥♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2035708759233868756?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2035708759233868756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2035708759233868756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2035708759233868756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!!!'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6100310623791052682</id><published>2009-12-23T21:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T22:07:21.945-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Eve...Eve !</title><content type='html'>If I hear Grown Up Christmas List &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one more time,  &lt;/span&gt;I will punch whats-her-face-from-cocoa-house in the damn face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, let's start from yesterday shall we?&lt;br /&gt;Actually, no, first, rest in peace Brittany Murphy :(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was pretty damn enjoyable, disregarding a few minor incidents that happened...okay one incident, and it technically, to me anyway, was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; minor.&lt;br /&gt;But I won't even get into it, because I regret it and the more I dwell on it, the worse it will become.  Plus, I don't want to make &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; feel like he didn't anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;But besides that, yesterday was fun, I finally feel more or less comfortable at Matthew's house, I trust that his parents like me haha.  Now I've just got to win over the rest of his family sooner or later.  Yeah, the butterflies in my stomach love that idea.&lt;br /&gt;So Christmas Eve is tomorrow :D So excited!  Get to go over to Matthew's again for like...an hour haha just to trade gifts and wish everyone a Merry Christmas.  I really hope he likes what I got him, I asked a lot of people if what I got him was good, so it better be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, I lost my train of thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and in case I don't blog soon, MERRY CHRISTMAS TWATS :D ♥&lt;br /&gt;(what is...twats?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6100310623791052682?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6100310623791052682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-eveeve.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6100310623791052682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6100310623791052682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-eveeve.html' title='Christmas Eve...Eve !'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6750537938451979272</id><published>2009-12-18T18:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T18:15:13.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Useless...</title><content type='html'>The title is how I'm feeling right about now.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so upset with myself that I can't even write what I'm feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Holidays are here, shouldn't I be happy?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6750537938451979272?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6750537938451979272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/useless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6750537938451979272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6750537938451979272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/useless.html' title='Useless...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-489885394538878973</id><published>2009-12-14T21:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:15:43.184-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid.</title><content type='html'>My mother is totally ruining my life.&lt;br /&gt;She's miserable, and I can understand her actions...most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;But let me tell you how she can't make up her mind and somehow does not want my sister and I to be happy, because she wants to be miserable together.  Of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides that, kind of bummed about New Years now.  Not going to get into it though, I was pumped to actually go out and do something.  Alas...you can't always get what you want right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The countdown to Christmas break is officially on, which is a bright side to this entire week I guess.&lt;br /&gt;Four days until this long awaited break, that G_d knows I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or is it really difficult to buy people presents? I never know what to get people, and I'm always afraid that they won't like it... or that they'll think I'm cheap or something, it's not fair! I know some people who get me the best presents, and beside what they gave me, I may as well have given them a pair of socks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dftba..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-489885394538878973?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/489885394538878973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/stupid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/489885394538878973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/489885394538878973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/stupid.html' title='Stupid.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6924108619728019958</id><published>2009-12-10T21:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T21:35:14.709-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Else Can I Say?</title><content type='html'>I have he best taste in books.&lt;br /&gt;I think it's a pretty safe thing to say that I really do.  Or maybe I don't, and Rachelle is the only one who appreciates my fine tastes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from my amazing taste...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK'S fucking MANNEQUIN is coming to Toronto, and like.  IM FUCKING GOING.&lt;br /&gt;I don't care how, but I'm going to that concert.  I will not miss this opportunity!&lt;br /&gt;Although...I'm probably not willing to break the law or anything, but still, I will like... sell my iPod for a ticket to that concert.  Okay...maybe not.  Oh darn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is soon, I can't wait.  I'm so sick of school, especially English and Religion class.  I just want to flip out everyday in that class, stupid bitchy teachers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to the holidays though, on new years, I plan on going skating with the love of my life in Toronto.  Personally, I know it's sappy, but it's also romantic, even if it was my idea.  But still, I would quite enjoy it, since my New Years usually sucks or is spent with family as I miss fun parties and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, this blog seem a bit choppy and random, apologies, looking for books that Rachelle may enjoy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6924108619728019958?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6924108619728019958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-else-can-i-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6924108619728019958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6924108619728019958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-else-can-i-say.html' title='What Else Can I Say?'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1261006945665311383</id><published>2009-12-07T17:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T17:56:28.632-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Damaged</title><content type='html'>I think my father has messed me up.  The way he treated my mother, what's going on with this whole messy divorce... It's definitely taking a huge toll on me, and on my relationships...&lt;br /&gt;I'm so afraid of ending up like my mother...unhappy, abused, alone.  I will do everything in my power to make sure I'm not like that and my sister isn't either. &lt;br /&gt;I sometimes feel like he is like my father, and it scares me to death.&lt;br /&gt;Because, I wouldn't be able to leave. &lt;br /&gt;He could yell and beat me and do whatever, and I wouldn't leave.&lt;br /&gt;I'd be like my mother, almost.  I wouldn't technically be alone.&lt;br /&gt;I would never leave.&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, there's only a slight chance that that might happen, but everyone has their bad days.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just afraid of how many bad days there will be.  And if there will be more bad days than good.&lt;br /&gt;I would never leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1261006945665311383?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1261006945665311383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/damaged.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1261006945665311383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1261006945665311383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/damaged.html' title='Damaged'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8776813357651253879</id><published>2009-12-07T17:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T17:51:00.317-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;name&amp;quot;}"&gt;                 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;" class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I'm not going to stress over you anymore, it isn't worth it. I'm not trying to say I don't want you because I definitely do. All I'm saying is I'm done chasing after you. Good night.. I hate that feeling that comes with crying. Tears stinging my eyes as I try to hold them back. It gets hard to breath. I can't hide it now&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 class="me"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;self⋅ish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="dnindex" width="35"&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt; &lt;td&gt;devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;   &lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="dnindex" width="35"&gt;2.&lt;/td&gt; &lt;td&gt;characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself: &lt;span class="ital-inline"&gt;selfish motives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8776813357651253879?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8776813357651253879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-not-going-to-stress-over-you-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8776813357651253879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8776813357651253879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-not-going-to-stress-over-you-anymore.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4195837135324224197</id><published>2009-12-06T18:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T18:20:23.618-05:00</updated><title type='text'>snowflake</title><content type='html'>Snowflake dance.&lt;br /&gt;I swear, a night I'll never forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4195837135324224197?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4195837135324224197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/snowflake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4195837135324224197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4195837135324224197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/snowflake.html' title='snowflake'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5016298262674918998</id><published>2009-11-30T21:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T21:30:43.525-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy, you drive me crazy</title><content type='html'>I'm so excited.  (and I just can't hide it...)&lt;br /&gt;HA!&lt;br /&gt;So, a school dance is coming up, I know my date/boyfriend isn't that pumped.  BUT I AM :D&lt;br /&gt;No idea why though, only thing I'm not looking forward to is all the slutty dancing, granted, I may partake in all this, but, granted, I will still maintain my high level of self respect.  (Which if you didn't catch on, is the difference between me and ...well three girls haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is getting busy, although I'm not as stressed as I usually am, which is good right? Religions essay due Wednesday, Sybil questions aren't due for a long while, although, should probably avoid leaving it to the last minute... English culminating is going to kill me though, I just know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can I say? Sometimes... sometimes I feel like I'm too friendly, and people don't see that exactly, and someone ends up getting hurt.  I won't go into any detail, but sometimes it's like... Hey? Can't guys and girls be friends and that's all? That's all that this is, wish some people could see that...  Plus, I don't understand the whole jealousy thing, so I guess I can't get too into this anyway because I don't understand the other side of this whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disregard that whole bit above.  I just realized how stupid it sounds.  No sense make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. So...I want some snow Canada.  *holds breath* *crosses fingers*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5016298262674918998?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5016298262674918998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/boy-you-drive-me-crazy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5016298262674918998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5016298262674918998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/boy-you-drive-me-crazy.html' title='Boy, you drive me crazy'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-257552639524636937</id><published>2009-11-25T20:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T20:02:46.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinning and Spiralling Down</title><content type='html'>I'm out of control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-257552639524636937?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/257552639524636937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/spinning-and-spiralling-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/257552639524636937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/257552639524636937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/spinning-and-spiralling-down.html' title='Spinning and Spiralling Down'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2401964705774161069</id><published>2009-11-23T22:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T22:34:00.448-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Title</title><content type='html'>I debated on whether or not to write a blog today.  But I guess some stuff did happen, which were more or less important enough for me to bitch and whine about here :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a few posts ago, I ranted about people breaking my trust.  Yeah, my bad.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I admit, I can jump to quick conclusions, and, as a kind friend pointed out, it's hard to argue with me once I've made up my mind.  I probably scare people sometimes, which is ridiculous considering my size.  But yeah, I want to apologize to the victim of my wrath.  (Not really my wrath, it was more like the ULTIMATE COLD SHOULDER...EVAR!) Haha, to put it in simpler terms.  I do feel particularly bad about this whole thing too, because one, I need to learn to get my facts straight and two, well, this person is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; nice, and I should've (SHOULD'VE SHOULD BE A WORD DARNIT) stopped and realized that this person really wouldn't have done that in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;I felt terrible after today, because I bummed the kid out too.  Like... sometimes I guess I under estimate the impact I have on people sometimes? I forget people do care... Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from being a terrible, mean person, I'm eating a tub of ice cream.  Gross.  Listening to Christmas music and wishing for snow, oh yeah.  I contimplated on drawing some more like I did yesterday, but I don't wanna...  Again, wish I could scan some of them, I'm proud of a few.  And still excited over my new pencil crayons XD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if whoever reads these thinks I'm messed.  Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2401964705774161069?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2401964705774161069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/title.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2401964705774161069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2401964705774161069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/title.html' title='Title'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8142064248943331222</id><published>2009-11-22T21:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T22:52:19.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Case You Wanna Start Over ♪</title><content type='html'>Okay first things first.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://userserve-ak.last.fm/serve/252/9423173.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hands down.  Best album I've ever heard.  EVAR!!!!! (I swear)&lt;br /&gt;Oh they're called &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Her Sweet Autumn Misery &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's amazing, I would give you a download link, but downloading from torrents is &lt;b&gt;illegal!!&lt;/b&gt; Haha.... Just go out and buy the album dammit.   Or check out their &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.myspace.com/hersweetautumnmisery"&gt;myspace&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay.  Moving on...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nothing happened today.  I hate Sundays, there's never anything to do.  Actually, I hate weekends in general because I only have something to do one day during the entire weekend and it blows! I hate it.  Maybe I should try making friends again...and you know...get a job...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Man, a whole day of drawing can take a lot out of your hands.  Wish I had a scanner, could totally post the stuff I drew today, I feel pretty darn accomplished.  Except for one, it didn't turn out that well, and there was another where I tried coloring it...didn't look as it did as a simple pencil sketch you know? I think next weekend I'll start drawing Christmas themed things, get into the spirit right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DFTBA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8142064248943331222?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8142064248943331222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-case-you-wanna-start-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8142064248943331222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8142064248943331222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-case-you-wanna-start-over.html' title='In Case You Wanna Start Over ♪'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7895407588522784039</id><published>2009-11-21T21:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T22:06:15.197-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Darker the Secret, the Harder You'll Keep It...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"My stupid mouth, has got me in trouble, I said too much again..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So today was uneventful and just plain lame. &lt;br /&gt;Did a lot of thinking today, mostly about the current situation, I'm worried about dealing with this crap on Monday, I'm dreading fourth period.  I'm dreading third as well, which is my favorite class.  I can't believe I'm letting one person ruin my day, my entire weekend and now school.&lt;br /&gt;I am not supposed to feel safe everywhere I go? Should I be able to keep and confide secrets, and not have them acknowledged to the world? Broadcasted? Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself for ever trusting that kid.&lt;br /&gt;But enough about it.  I won't let this take over my life, I won't get angry anymore, I won't take it out on myself either, because that is just letting them win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now...I cannot think of anything to talk about.  Darn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I heard you like mudkips? LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should try getting to bed earlier.  Last night I went to sleep around midnight, and didn't wake up until around one! Is that healthy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I need to get off my chest.  I'm pretty pissed that my article hasn't been posted on the school website.  Dammit, I'm pissed.  I stood out in the fucking rain and freezing cold to watch that damn game and stayed up really late to finish it.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dammit, dammit, dammit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done with this.  It pisses me off, because also, I don't even have an article to write this month, because apparently I am easily forgotten about.  It's ridiculous.  Plus, I'm the only one who knows about football, so who else could have written that shit? I don't understand it anymore, I'm pretty much done dealing with all of this.  I hate putting in effort and getting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; in return, no regards or even something to feel accomplished about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great.  Now I'm in a 'polly pissy pants' mood again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7895407588522784039?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7895407588522784039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/darker-secret-harder-youll-keep-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7895407588522784039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7895407588522784039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/darker-secret-harder-youll-keep-it.html' title='The Darker the Secret, the Harder You&apos;ll Keep It...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8648413970121291700</id><published>2009-11-20T23:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T23:59:20.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Stupid Mouth....</title><content type='html'>Dammit.  I did it again.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;trusted&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I told someone something that no one else knows, and I get &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;slapped in the face with it&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;No idea.  But apparently I've had it coming.  Things only get worse before they get better right?&lt;br /&gt;I am just &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;so sick&lt;/span&gt; of people proving me wrong, I hate that I'm stupid, that I trusted in this kid, or in anyone for that matter. &lt;br /&gt;Now everyone thinks I'm a crazy psycho bitch who wants attention.  Which is not what I want, actually, it's the farthest thing from it.  I didn't announce this, I didn't want anyone to know.&lt;br /&gt;I felt that I could confide in a friend, that someone was worried about me and deserved to know the truth instead of the regular, sugar coated, "I'm fine" with the totally fake smile and laughter that follows. &lt;br /&gt;Pitiful isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, why is it that when I'm with the love of my life, I seem to ruin it? Or why is it, that I get so worked up, and then when I get faced with a specific situation, I choke? OR WHY IS IT, that nothing ever goes right anymore and that my life is spirally down, down, down until I will finally hit rock bottom.  I can't do anything right anymore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8648413970121291700?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8648413970121291700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-stupid-mouth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8648413970121291700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8648413970121291700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-stupid-mouth.html' title='My Stupid Mouth....'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4492307689165354986</id><published>2009-11-12T19:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T19:59:29.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh man</title><content type='html'>I seem to mess everything up these days, or lead things into a more complicated or uncomfortable situation.&lt;br /&gt;Like...take the previous post, as I assumed that no one actually reads this, apparently people do, which, obviously you can picture how that turned out...&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, speaking your mind can get you into a lot of trouble, but it's kind of a ctach 22 isn't it? I'd rather be too outspoken then be silent for my entire life.  I'd rather be too loud then not loud enough, because that's no way to be remembered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the fact that I seem to cause trouble everywhere I go, I guess I have some good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'M PASSING ENGLISH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You out there reading this may not be as excited as I am, but we got out essays back (and I dare say I did very well) and she told us our mid-term marks.  I'm pretty pumped, because, I'm doing well, instead just grazing by.&lt;br /&gt;But on the other hand, I basically got a zero on a unit test in religion, so I'm sure that will not go over well on my mid-term :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when there used to be super fun concerts in Milton? Yeah....those are over, and I'm pretty fucking bummed.  I miss hearing new bands dammit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend....this weekend.  I'm scared about how it's going to turn out.  Don't really have any concrete plans, I tried to make some, so we'll see where that goes.  My love is grounded unfortunately, so in order to not be bored out of my mind I need to make these plans darn it.  Otherwise, I might be blogging hourly over the weekend. Ha. Ha....(dies inside).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4492307689165354986?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4492307689165354986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4492307689165354986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4492307689165354986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-man.html' title='Oh man'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5022772286181712194</id><published>2009-11-11T19:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T19:06:34.799-05:00</updated><title type='text'>[insert angry face here]</title><content type='html'>I'm pissed.&lt;div&gt;Seriously pissed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So pissed, I can't even say cheesed because it doesn't being to cover my overbearing anger right now.  Although, overbearing may not be th best word here either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm mad at a certain person, whom I hope reads this.  Because, that person, can go fuck them self.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm planning on having a fun ass weekend without this person, and I'm going to have fun with people that this person doesn't want me around, which will make it so much fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And what's the best part,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This person &lt;b&gt;can't tell me what to do&lt;/b&gt;.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This person can &lt;b&gt;kiss my ass and stick their opinion where the sun don't not shine.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;AND KEEP IT THERE.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5022772286181712194?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5022772286181712194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/insert-angry-face-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5022772286181712194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5022772286181712194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/insert-angry-face-here.html' title='[insert angry face here]'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6813765459706231866</id><published>2009-11-10T19:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T19:55:57.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Glee makes me excited...</title><content type='html'>The title is completely  irrelevant to the topic of this, besides the fact that Glee is one of the best television shows ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remembrance Day is tomorrow, have to play in the band for the thing at school, hopefully I won't mess up while playing Adagio for Strings, amazing piece, sooo hard, but it was definitely worth all the practice.  Pumped to be playing first trombone for Abide With Me, I never get first haha but yeah, pretty stoked :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self : Get an agenda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying (and failing) to catch up on English homework, it's not that it's difficult, but I'm just so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lazy&lt;/span&gt; sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's been a bit tough lately, mostly with the family.  My dad is not making anyone's life easier, and he's just pissing my mom off so much to the point where she goes insane every once and a while.  They both are not handling this divorce well at all, they're acting like children.  My mom wants to move, my dad is stalking us, he's a creeper, she's melodramatic.  This can only end in a whole shit load of court shit that I do &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; want to be a part of.  Plus, if I have to move, I'll be pissed, and I will not move with her, I swear.  I cannot bear the thought of leaving Milton, I want to graduate with my friends at BR, it wouldn't be fair to me or to my sister.  We need something to keep us stable, and making us start over is not the way to do it.  I need my friends in order to get through this, and especially, most importantly, I need my baby.  I get sick to my stomach when I think about what would happen if I moved far away from him.  Not seeing him every day... I think it would kill us both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6813765459706231866?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6813765459706231866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/glee-makes-me-excited.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6813765459706231866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6813765459706231866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/glee-makes-me-excited.html' title='Glee makes me excited...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8233407697041092786</id><published>2009-11-08T22:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T22:30:45.278-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sixteen Candles...</title><content type='html'>Finally sixteen!&lt;br /&gt;Well, I was sixteen on Tuesday, but I was suffering from swine flu (H1N1 for those who like to be politically correct), and I wasn't up to blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of pissed, I'm a part of the school's newspaper, and I handed in a great article about the first school football game, and it hasn't been posted.  Pretty cheesed, and I also wasn't given an assignment for this months issue, which again, sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I need to start keeping an agenda, it's getting hard to keep up with all the meetings and due dates I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, also.  DFTBA, I thought I mentioned this, means Don't Forget To Be Awesome.  It's a nerdfighter thing, don't worry too much about it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8233407697041092786?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8233407697041092786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/sixteen-candles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8233407697041092786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8233407697041092786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/sixteen-candles.html' title='Sixteen Candles...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3115609384030548088</id><published>2009-11-01T20:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T21:21:08.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch Up</title><content type='html'>Haven't posted in a long time.  Lots of stuff to catch up on more or less, (hence the title).&lt;br /&gt;Guess I'll start from most recent to oldest news, since I remember what happened recently more clearly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today, been sick really bad cough, body aches but now it's significantly better than this morning; let's hope it stays that way.  My baby is sick too :( And worse than I am.  I can only imagine how much that sucks, hope we both get better soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Fear Fest last night, pretty frightened while I was there of course, stupid clowns and things jumping out at me.  Definitely not a good idea to close and open my eyes while going through the mazes.  Ate at the buffet before hand, with Sarah and Jake as well, they're both so funny, I seriously get tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I figure this was on the same day, there's this whole drama with this bitch that I know.  And I'm so tired of it, she and her other bitch friend threatened me and all this shit, and yeah, not gunna lie, I'm intimidated since they're both really big girls, but the fuck? I didn't anything to either of them, and I'm just not interested in the drama.  I hate girls that are like that.  They get bored with their lives, so they start drama and try to ruin other peoples lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finished my first essay of the semester, somewhat confident about it, I like the conclusion that I wrote, but I really hope I do well on this, I need the high marks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decided on going to Guelph University, it's a top school that I'm interested in, the others are okay, but I really hope to get accepted there after grade twelve.  Which reminds me, I need to get a damn job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 16th birthday is coming up, what a time to have it though, I'll always remember that my parents got a divorce when I was 16, fantastic.  And I don't get anything special really, which is kind of a let down, but it doesn't matter, as long as I get to spend time with the ones I love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday (yeah, this isn't really in order anymore, sorry), I got to go see the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela.  Phenomenal,  when I saw these guys, I got &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shivers&lt;/span&gt; and goosebumps, I love when music is that great that my whole body takes notice.  Plus, it's always nice to have a school day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, the day before Halloween, pretty much got the day off school again too (missing a lot of it this past week).  Dressed up as a geisha for the costume contest, apparently it wasn't an original idea... Then I was in the haunted house all day long, until fourth, which I didn't go to because I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exhausted&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if I should buy Matthew another ring, I feel bad that he's so upset that it got stolen, it wasn't his fault.  Still, it's fun to tease him about it :P...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost train of thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3115609384030548088?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3115609384030548088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/catch-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3115609384030548088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3115609384030548088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/catch-up.html' title='Catch Up'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-9112003654184131473</id><published>2009-10-18T21:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T21:17:07.794-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shattered Glass</title><content type='html'>My mother has gone into this crazy little fit of hers again.  I really hate it.&lt;br /&gt;She&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; finally &lt;/span&gt;bought some fucking food for us to eat, I can't believe how neglectful she's being right now.  I understand that she is going through a lot, but hello? Get some help, or give up your fucking kids.&lt;br /&gt;But it's okay, 16 more days until I'm 16 (haha) and then I can move the fuck out and be away from both of my parents.&lt;br /&gt;But.&lt;br /&gt;Other than the crap at home, everything else is doing pretty well.  Went to a party on Saturday that was pretty fun, turns out I can dance a little bit, but only a little.  There's only so much mixed girls like me can get away with.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so totally in love.  I say it all the time, I know, but it's true! And I love being able to say it and know it's real and know that finally, the person I love &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loves me back&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that the best feeling in the world? You know, other than eating chocolate covered strawberries?&lt;br /&gt;Or riding a roller coaster while eating chocolate covered strawberries?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-9112003654184131473?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9112003654184131473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/shattered-glass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9112003654184131473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9112003654184131473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/shattered-glass.html' title='Shattered Glass'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5437218833180893360</id><published>2009-10-05T19:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T20:01:20.566-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Polyvore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/say_anything/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=6710035"&gt;&lt;img width="400" alt="Say Anything!" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFlFpR1NMU29BM2hHUEhpQUJtNnFRMEEAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="Say Anything!" height="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/say_anything/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=6710035"&gt;Say Anything!&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=210035"&gt;Based On A True Story&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/"&gt;Polyvore.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/you_found_me/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7336960"&gt;&lt;img width="400" alt="you found me.♥" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFkpMazhOdU1VM2hHRWNXOGFCNlpvSVEAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="you found me.♥" height="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/you_found_me/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7336960"&gt;you found me.♥&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=17186"&gt;CHORUS1&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/"&gt;Polyvore.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/broken/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7223443"&gt;&lt;img width="400" alt="broken" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFll1eFBfOThVM2hHbXEzSFpJTVo2ancAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="broken" height="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/broken/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7223443"&gt;broken&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=17186"&gt;CHORUS1&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/"&gt;Polyvore.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/love_is_everywhere/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7087726"&gt;&lt;img width="400" alt="Love Is Everywhere*" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFnJyTkphRUVNM2hHeVhWcUgtcnRIUGcAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="Love Is Everywhere*" height="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/love_is_everywhere/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=7087726"&gt;Love Is Everywhere*&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=17186"&gt;CHORUS1&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/"&gt;Polyvore.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/its_our_thing/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=6968728"&gt;&lt;img width="400" alt="It's Our Thing" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFjFNcWpaRmNJM2hHeVBPeUJxSnZvM2cAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="It's Our Thing" height="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/its_our_thing/set?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=6968728"&gt;It's Our Thing&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.mid=embed&amp;amp;id=17186"&gt;CHORUS1&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.polyvore.com/"&gt;Polyvore.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top one isn't by me, but it's awesome, and inspired by &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Say Anything&lt;/span&gt; a punk band that I like.  The rest are all made by Moi :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5437218833180893360?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5437218833180893360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/polyvore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5437218833180893360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5437218833180893360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/polyvore.html' title='Polyvore'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-588817700261480388</id><published>2009-10-04T16:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T16:45:10.757-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time for a Break?</title><content type='html'>Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;I'm never speaking with him again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-588817700261480388?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/588817700261480388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/time-for-break.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/588817700261480388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/588817700261480388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/time-for-break.html' title='Time for a Break?'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8118779618700229650</id><published>2009-09-29T22:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:35:10.992-04:00</updated><title type='text'>OH</title><content type='html'>I forgot to mention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilan Manahan should be seriously beaten.  For being a stupid mother fucking big mouthed idiot.&lt;br /&gt;For saying things about Anthony, terrible, untrue things.&lt;br /&gt;Like fuck, you don't say shit like that about anyone, especially about Anthony.&lt;br /&gt;Dumb bastard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8118779618700229650?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8118779618700229650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8118779618700229650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8118779618700229650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/oh.html' title='OH'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6839069547521427067</id><published>2009-09-29T22:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:33:42.755-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Again...</title><content type='html'>I kind of get lost in my own little world sometimes, between the school stress and the family stress, there's the stress of trying to be a good girlfriend, friend and whatever else I need to do.&lt;br /&gt;Plus now I've got the school newspaper, art's council, band and whatever else I'm apart of to look after too.  Too many people depending on me; which could possibly result in disappointment.  Which most likely, is my biggest fear.  Failing others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like shit, I never knew that once I got old, I got &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;responsibilities&lt;/span&gt;, well, I did, but not like this you know? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just now, like shit, my fucking mother, that dumb bitch.  I have things to do, she can't see that she gets in my way.  I'm tired of hearing, "you're so stupid" or "stop wasting my time" or my personal favorite "I wish I'd never had you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, that's dear old mom for you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess I don't have to go to appointments anymore, since she doesn't feel like getting me help, but then again, who says I even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; the help? Fuck her.  Fuck everything.&lt;br /&gt;No one really get's what I'm going through, which is fine, I'd rather be dealing with it on my own without having to deal with pity or whatever the fuck I get these days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is though, I don't know how to help my baby, there are obvious problems, but either I can't help or make things right or I'm not allowed to for whatever reason.  It's like a wall is put up sometimes, and I can't climb over it and are not strong enough to tear it down.  (Bad analogy I know).  I love him so much, I wish I could do more for him, he deserves it, God knows he does, but I haven't found out how to help him other than being there for him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of upset that I have to give back my iTouch, lame.  But still, I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; offer to give it back haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really almost blew it last night.  Did something stupid, broke a promise.  I cannot remember the last or even first time I had disappointed someone like that, and to make matters worse, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yelled&lt;/span&gt; at him.  And he was the one mad at me, and the entire time, he never even once raised his voice.  Foolish? Me? Yep.&lt;br /&gt;I somehow manage to fuck up things, it's like I wake up and the world goes "here comes Sarah everyone run before she ruins you".  Wouldn't surprise me at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.  (But really, you probably will).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6839069547521427067?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6839069547521427067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6839069547521427067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6839069547521427067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/again.html' title='Again...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1416151991838881256</id><published>2009-09-25T16:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T16:08:04.692-04:00</updated><title type='text'>100 !</title><content type='html'>So &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; had a fantastic day today.&lt;br /&gt;No fourth period class, just chilling watching sumo fights and other fun stuff, joking around with friends you know, the jist of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on tonight is the Fall Fair which I'm excited for, last year was amazing ahah so it should be just as great this year too. :)&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is my dad's weekend though, which is sort of a bummer because I wanted to throw a jam or something while my mommy was away, but there will be plenty of time for that, I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1416151991838881256?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1416151991838881256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/100.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1416151991838881256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1416151991838881256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/100.html' title='100 !'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8902319647732300200</id><published>2009-09-21T23:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T23:54:15.361-04:00</updated><title type='text'>99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall...</title><content type='html'>I noticed that I mostly start off these posts with something about what happened, or how in love I am or how the day went or whatever.  Does that annoy anyone?&lt;br /&gt;Might as well keep going then.&lt;br /&gt;Basically was sick all day, didn't go to school, h to pee in a cup, bla bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Then&lt;/span&gt; I find out that the group project for English that's due tomorrow isn't near finished, so I basically finish it all myself.  Which is fine, but not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toronto Maple Leafs game tomorrow, awesome seats, my baby is coming too, so it should be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll talk about the game tomorrow :)&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8902319647732300200?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8902319647732300200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/99-bottles-of-beer-on-wall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8902319647732300200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8902319647732300200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/99-bottles-of-beer-on-wall.html' title='99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2951959193921779419</id><published>2009-09-16T23:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T23:20:56.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>I feel like everything is going well.  Minus the stress of school, trying to make sure I get exceptional marks and keep them that way is really dragging me down and pulling at my energy lately.  Few break downs have occurred.&lt;br /&gt;Mr.A yelled at me the other day, and I tried to pretend like I wasn't scared of him or at all intimidated, so instead of standing tall and strong, I started to cry.  Fuck.  Now I'm going to be one of the kids that he talks about like he does with us one day, the kid who was stubborn but a great kid, haha, those stories are always funny. &lt;br /&gt;I was reading this book today, and it started off with this lady getting married to the love of her life, and the way she was, all nervous but like a happy nervous, it made me even more excited for marriage.  I can't wait to walk down the isle, and get to look at someone who (hopefully) will be smiling at me, that someone that I get to spend the rest of my life with.  I know it's weird, but I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some more good news, I am most likely going on two school trips this year! The band trip to Cleveland and then the history and law trip to New York! I've always wanted to go to NY, and well I've never really been to the states, so it should be a fun new experience.  Really excited for that, hopefully my dad pulls through and doesn't chince out on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joining a shit load of clubs this year, I need to get a whole bunch of extra curriculars so that my university applications look really good.  I need those few extra things that can help me out, but I know I'll figure it out, not to be swollen with pride or anything, but I know I can do it.  My mom says that I can do anything I want, and I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to the party on Friday, well it's more like dinner and a movie, but it's for a friend and it'll be like a party, a birthday party.  I know it's no jam or whatever, but of course, I can't wait for my mom to go places this year so I can throw some crazy parties myself, the house is big enough, and no one would be around much really, so it's perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2951959193921779419?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2951959193921779419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2951959193921779419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2951959193921779419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4505604649639577894</id><published>2009-09-14T00:43:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T00:51:05.358-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Realization...</title><content type='html'>I have come to the understanding that bad times can only lead to good times.  That the rain must always be followed by a rainbow or at least the sun.  There can never be unhappiness without happiness because at first you had to be happy.  &lt;div&gt;I love the fact that fights always turn into make-ups and I love yous.  How no matter what that little fight was over, the bigger picture is still intact, and may even get better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love the way that everything seems terrible, but when I get off my ass and &lt;i&gt;look&lt;/i&gt;, it's actually not all that bad.  I have family, friends and my soulmate.  How many people have all three?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes it's baffling, how much I can love, but then I realize, there is always more to love, more ways to show how much I care.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to figure out what to do with all these feelings, I need something to channel them into..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something that will inspire others as well as myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is nothing I can't do, unless it's me standing in my own damn way.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have come to realize that God gave me life, and now it's my job to use it, to love, experience, to dance, kiss and sing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No more fighting, no more tears.  The nightmares that fill the night can be cast away with light.  No more will I complain about lifes uncertainties and unfair times, because things could always be a lot worse, but then again, it always gets better after it gets worse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is this all too cliche? Maybe.  Maybe that's what epiphanies are meant to be like. Cliche.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want to live in the moments that take my breath away, the times where he looks at me and I know he loves me and that everything is going to work out perfectly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;♥&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4505604649639577894?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4505604649639577894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/realization.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4505604649639577894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4505604649639577894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/realization.html' title='Realization...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5467959025804697750</id><published>2009-09-13T19:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T19:18:11.511-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You Liar...</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;You say you&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt; truly love me&lt;/span&gt;, but the way you treat me says otherwise...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;If I'm the one person you can trust, the one person who you know listens and hangs on your everyone word...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;The only person who wants the best for you and will do anything for you..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Why is it that you slap me across the face when I reach out to help you?&lt;br /&gt;You claim that I don't listen...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;But when I do, you simply push me away...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;And then complain some more.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#990000;"&gt;What am I doing wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5467959025804697750?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5467959025804697750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-liar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5467959025804697750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5467959025804697750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-liar.html' title='You Liar...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-640933797604363310</id><published>2009-09-10T21:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T22:07:31.138-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Future</title><content type='html'>There's a future in the fucking...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-640933797604363310?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/640933797604363310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/future.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/640933797604363310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/640933797604363310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/future.html' title='The Future'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6735157373178259299</id><published>2009-09-06T13:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T13:55:56.398-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Million Little Pieces</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;So broken...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything I do turns into crap, whenever I try to fix something, it just gets worse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;So lost...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't find a light to turn on, to chase away the darkness.  I can't even help myself or you, when you're upset I can't be there for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;So bitter...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate living in a world where you're unhappy, and worse;when I'm the reason for it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;So stupid...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For thinking that if I tried, it would happen.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6735157373178259299?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6735157373178259299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/million-little-pieces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6735157373178259299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6735157373178259299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/million-little-pieces.html' title='A Million Little Pieces'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1613684969030655378</id><published>2009-08-31T20:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T20:25:10.469-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting on the World to Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;i don't know how much longer i can do this. i don't know if i can just be your friend. i don't know what to do. i mean i love being friends w/you but it's getting harder and harder. not to say something, 5 nights in in a week. 4 nights in a row. and i used to miss you so much, but it never seemed like you missed me, i guess because of that i stopped missing you. it was like i was grasping at your shell, and getting back nothing in return. love can be so boring so it's alright, it's OK, i'm so much better without you. i won't be sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I guess you think life is going great sometimes and then that train catches up to you and you get sucked underneath it.  That's how life goes.  Everything can be great one day and then you're sitting there, watching someone fall apart right before your eyes; and the worst thing about it is the fact that you cannot do anything to help them.  The deal is to be there for them, but most of the rest is to be worked out on their own.  There is only so much we can do for other people, because, believe or not; we're only human.&lt;br /&gt;I hate not being able to do things for others though, to change something for them, to help.  When something is out of my hands I feel useless,worthless, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;School is starting soon, so on top of everything on my mind right now, I have the pressures to get good grades on my back too.  But you know, I will do it.  I need it.  I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;I need that future that will enable me to run away from all of this, I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cannot, CANNOT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; end up like my mother.  I won't do it.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe school will distract me from the crap in my life, at least for a little while and maybe things will turn around for the better.  I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner is soon.  I must go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;But in retrospect, a new Brand New album came out called Daisy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/SARAHM%7E1.D73/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.it-leaked.com/images/covers/1104969b92f47f03d51922a01e47fc0d/cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.it-leaked.com/images/covers/1104969b92f47f03d51922a01e47fc0d/cover.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?nxziyy5wzx3"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; to download it. NAAAOOO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1613684969030655378?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1613684969030655378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/waiting-on-world-to-change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1613684969030655378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1613684969030655378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/waiting-on-world-to-change.html' title='Waiting on the World to Change'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3627494024897068103</id><published>2009-08-30T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T11:17:08.069-04:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>Cannot believe everything that happened&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3627494024897068103?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3627494024897068103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/untitled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3627494024897068103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3627494024897068103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/untitled.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5918564249922381721</id><published>2009-08-25T01:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T01:26:34.595-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Lookie Here</title><content type='html'>I shamelessly advertise myself, it is my blog right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/CHORUS1"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://chorus1.deviantart.com/"&gt;Deviantart&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/envouge1234"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Youtube 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/SCREAMthechorus"&gt;Youtube 2 &lt;/a&gt;(no videos yet though)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OHH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video (below) made me lol.  Because I totally agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gBc6uBv99a8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;amp;hd=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gBc6uBv99a8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;amp;hd=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5918564249922381721?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5918564249922381721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/well-lookie-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5918564249922381721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5918564249922381721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/well-lookie-here.html' title='Well Lookie Here'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-377419823437213557</id><published>2009-08-25T01:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T01:20:25.881-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TROOOLLLLIIINNN'</title><content type='html'>I can't think of anything to say... FML&lt;br /&gt;What a waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just recovered from whatever the fuck it was....just throwing up and being dizzy and yeah, but nothing else other than that.  Can you say SWINE?&lt;br /&gt;haha playing... I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-377419823437213557?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/377419823437213557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/trooolllliiinnn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/377419823437213557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/377419823437213557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/trooolllliiinnn.html' title='TROOOLLLLIIINNN&apos;'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4125830913097668442</id><published>2009-08-20T21:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T21:19:19.018-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain in the Ass</title><content type='html'>I hate myself for doing this. &lt;br /&gt;FML I can't just swallow my own pride and love what I have and actually be HAPPY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4125830913097668442?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4125830913097668442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/pain-in-ass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4125830913097668442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4125830913097668442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/pain-in-ass.html' title='Pain in the Ass'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1239444105995225906</id><published>2009-08-20T19:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T19:36:08.434-04:00</updated><title type='text'>They Dont Call It A Hurricane For Nothin'</title><content type='html'>I hate the rain with a passion. &lt;br /&gt;Like for fuck sakes you would think that given it's summer time that there wouldn't be a lot of rain but of course, little seems to not be surprising anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe that there is only three weeks left until school. I'm on the one hand, excited but on the other hand I don't feel like dealing with everyone at school. I hate other people. &lt;br /&gt;(Im doing this post on my itouch, it's a mission and a half)&lt;br /&gt;I only like school for learning, which... Makes sense haha. But I hate all the drama and crap that has to be dealt with and endured. Don't think im ready to face that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't concentrate right now butni feel like losing my mind once again&lt;br /&gt; DFTBA&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1239444105995225906?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1239444105995225906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/they-dont-call-it-hurricane-for-nothin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1239444105995225906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1239444105995225906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/they-dont-call-it-hurricane-for-nothin.html' title='They Dont Call It A Hurricane For Nothin&apos;'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3287285133128218809</id><published>2009-08-19T22:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T22:31:33.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Screaming At You</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;"hey! i'm screaming at you, hey! don't care enough to write you a letter now that i'm doing better..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So! I'm bored.  So tired of volunteering right now, I hate getting up early and having to burp one kid and chase after another.  Everyone gets to run stations and stuff, I'm stuck with babysitting for three hours.  Blahh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the brightside, I do get out of the house for once and get to enjoy the day.  It's depressing waking up at one and then realizing, damn, the day is practically over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DFTBA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3287285133128218809?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3287285133128218809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-screaming-at-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3287285133128218809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3287285133128218809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-screaming-at-you.html' title='I&apos;m Screaming At You'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6488092302752652341</id><published>2009-08-17T23:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T23:46:45.418-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Highly Inapropriate</title><content type='html'>You know that you don't care what people say when someone asks you what hey can do to get money and you reply , "try prostitution".  Oh my.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently thinking about, well, life in general... I have come to realize that I'm not really good at anything, not like exceptional or outstanding at something.  I can read, and read pretty fast, but does that count for anything really? Would that be an impressive skill on a resume, or a college application? Nah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realization: I can't seem to find any &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good &lt;/span&gt;music to listen to lately.  Nothing seems to be good enough at the moment; oddly enough I've settled for listening to an old Michael Buble album, good old blues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6488092302752652341?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6488092302752652341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/highly-inapropriate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6488092302752652341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6488092302752652341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/highly-inapropriate.html' title='Highly Inapropriate'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1467179750368088190</id><published>2009-07-27T21:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T21:49:02.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>colouring crayons</title><content type='html'>I keep contemplating on whether or not to post something.  Nothing has happened.  Wonderland on Saturday should be fun, maybe...&lt;br /&gt;I do seem to have a problem with a certain guy friend, I hate that he doesn't trust him, because then it makes me feel odd hanging around him, even if we're just friends.  But apparently some guys have other things on their agendas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weather has been shitty, I hope it doesn't rain anymore, stupid rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else to really tell, although I finally have the general main idea for my book, once I have something actually written down, I will definitely give a sneak preview or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1467179750368088190?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1467179750368088190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/colouring-crayons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1467179750368088190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1467179750368088190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/colouring-crayons.html' title='colouring crayons'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8974949086209727108</id><published>2009-07-25T00:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T00:56:22.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'>love - or in strong like</title><content type='html'>I really have fallen in deep haven't I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8974949086209727108?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8974949086209727108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/love-or-in-strong-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8974949086209727108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8974949086209727108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/love-or-in-strong-like.html' title='love - or in strong like'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3061343530806992707</id><published>2009-07-21T00:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T00:29:43.862-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Skin</title><content type='html'>Summer.&lt;br /&gt;Summer...&lt;br /&gt;So far, it hasn't been the wondrous adventure as I had thought it would be.  But of course, why does that surprise me? It shouldn't, at all.&lt;br /&gt;There's been like one perk in my summer, and that's Matthew.  And no, I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; complaining, but I would like to be able to hang out with more people other than my boyfriend, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thought&lt;/span&gt; I had friends, good friends, but of course again, I shouldn't be surprised.&lt;br /&gt;I attempt to make plans with people, and they fall through, and of course I never get invited to anything, so really... I just get this message that no one really wants me around, which would be fine, if instead of ostracizing me they just told me face to face that they don't like me, then I could well, do nothing but get over it.&lt;br /&gt;Summer sucks.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; something to keep me busy, at least with school I had something to do all day you know? Plus I actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;talked&lt;/span&gt; to people, not now, I'm so bored aha.&lt;br /&gt;Blah, although I don't miss certain people, I have this one...acquaintance that is such a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bitch!&lt;/span&gt; She's so high strung it's ridiculous, and she just, isn't nice.  AAGHH, even thinking about things she says pisses me off, you can't even say hello without her being all pissed off or of course, heaven forbid you ask if something is wrong because it will result in name calling (mostly nosy and shit).  Lord have mercy! Oh sorry, saying &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; probably would piss her off to. &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; *face palm*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time I know for sure that I'm in love.  I could write a thousand songs about how I feel, of course if I really think about it, most of them would be extremely similar to each other aha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;DFTBA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3061343530806992707?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3061343530806992707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-skin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3061343530806992707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3061343530806992707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-skin.html' title='Summer Skin'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1963009812153858882</id><published>2009-07-20T20:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T20:27:52.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flip Mino Camcorder</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style='width: 300px; max-height: 234px; padding: 8px; margin: 0 auto auto 2px; overflow-y: auto;'&gt;&lt;div style='float: right; width: 113px; height: 100px; padding: 0; margin: 0;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://www.share-server.com/view/content/53957834-758d-11de-eb97-979d0e44593b'&gt;&lt;img src='http://share-server.com/view/post/53957834-758d-11de-eb97-979d0e44593b'/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style='font: bold 12px Tahoma; color: #2f2f2f; padding: 0; margin: 0 123px 8px 0;'&gt;"I think this would be a cool design for a camcorder, might order it, not sure yet.  Looks good no?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style='font: 12px Tahoma; color: #2f2f2f; padding: 0; margin: 0 123px 0 0;'&gt;Flip Mino Camcorder with Personalized Design - Available only at www.theflip.com.  Check out this unique Flip Mino design. The Flip Mino camcorder combines remarkable video quality in a pocket-sized package. Now personalizable - create your&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style='font: 11px Tahoma;padding: 0; margin: 8px 0;'&gt;&lt;a style='color: #005cff;' href='http://www.share-server.com/view/content/53957834-758d-11de-eb97-979d0e44593b'&gt;View &amp;gt;&amp;gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1963009812153858882?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1963009812153858882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/flip-mino-camcorder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1963009812153858882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1963009812153858882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/flip-mino-camcorder.html' title='Flip Mino Camcorder'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1003035859762107655</id><published>2009-07-17T22:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T22:32:41.645-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Swim for the Cause ♪</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The whole world is watching, you haven't come this far to fall off the earth..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I truly believe that Jack's Mannequin is the best band I have ever heard, possibly.  Their lyrics are so amazing, and they are one of the very few artists that I like the entire album instead of a few songs at hand.  I'm excited for their music video "Swim" to come out, I think it comes out tomorrow so I'm pretty stoked for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could say that life is going pretty well, but I would be lying.  Ever had that nagging guilt of being happy for even a single moment, when you know someone close to you is suffering at that same time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Harry Potter (hopefully) with my dad on Sunday night, really don't want to though, my dad is really...well, annoying.  Don't get me wrong, I love him, I really do, but I love him from a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;distance&lt;/span&gt;.  I hate when he's around me and sees my friends or something and just...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;creeps!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; It's really embarrassing, and I'm sure he doesn't mean it or anything but that's the way it comes across. Blaah, my dad... he acts like such a child sometimes, like today he got pissed off because we wanted the inflatable mattress so that my niece could sleepover on it and he gets all pissy, drops it off, rings the doorbell and takes off in his car without a single word.  Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seriously?&lt;/span&gt; Even I don't do that.  Okay, I can do that sometimes, but there's a difference; I'm 15, he's 60 something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"You can breathe but the air is running out for you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1003035859762107655?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1003035859762107655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/swim-for-cause.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1003035859762107655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1003035859762107655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/swim-for-cause.html' title='Swim for the Cause ♪'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5947144709657719879</id><published>2009-07-16T23:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T23:57:20.629-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I actually laughed out loud</title><content type='html'>&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1914375&amp;fullscreen=1" width="640" height="360" &gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="AllowScriptAccess" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1914375&amp;fullscreen=1"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1914375&amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"  width="640" height="360"  allowScriptAccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="padding:5px 0; text-align:center; width:640px;"&gt;See more &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/videos"&gt;funny videos&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/pictures"&gt;funny pictures&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/"&gt;CollegeHumor&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5947144709657719879?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5947144709657719879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-actually-laughed-out-loud.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5947144709657719879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5947144709657719879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-actually-laughed-out-loud.html' title='I actually laughed out loud'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2056272619581547216</id><published>2009-07-15T00:21:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T00:23:51.602-04:00</updated><title type='text'>♥</title><content type='html'>What though the radiance which was once so bright&lt;br /&gt;Be now for ever taken from my sight,&lt;br /&gt;Though nothing can bring back the hour&lt;br /&gt;Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;&lt;br /&gt;We will grieve not, rather find&lt;br /&gt;Strength in what remains behind;&lt;br /&gt;In the primal sympathy&lt;br /&gt;Which having been must ever be;&lt;br /&gt;In the soothing thoughts that spring&lt;br /&gt;Out of human suffering;&lt;br /&gt;In the faith that looks through death,&lt;br /&gt;In years that bring the philosophic mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2056272619581547216?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2056272619581547216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2056272619581547216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2056272619581547216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title='♥'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5865640304860395325</id><published>2009-07-14T17:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T17:54:59.479-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To Anthony...</title><content type='html'>July 11 was the last day of your life wasn't it love? And you know what? We all fucking miss you to death.&lt;br /&gt;If heaven has facebook, go look at your wall, people post things on it every five minutes, every time you refresh the page, someone else has written about how much they love you.&lt;br /&gt;I cry every time I see a picture of you on the internet, every time someone says "have you heard?" or "are you going to attend..." it's terrible.  You were only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fifteen&lt;/span&gt;, God knows why you were called home so early, but no one here can make any sense of it.&lt;br /&gt;Love, there's a million photos of you out there, and everyone is missing you, and I keep looking at those photos going 'wow, he had the greatest smile, and was always having fun, always fishing always just Anthony'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;We &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; miss you so very much angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest in peace beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5865640304860395325?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5865640304860395325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-anthony.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5865640304860395325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5865640304860395325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-anthony.html' title='To Anthony...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-139630387486750175</id><published>2009-07-10T01:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T01:12:52.942-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>it is said that time heals all wounds, I do not agree, the wounds remain, in time the mind, protecting its sanity, covers the wounds in scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-139630387486750175?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/139630387486750175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-is-said-that-time-heals-all-wounds-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/139630387486750175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/139630387486750175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-is-said-that-time-heals-all-wounds-i.html' title=''/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-725908126992626405</id><published>2009-07-10T00:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T01:05:31.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>There is nothing better than the feeling of giving back to someone who has helped you throughout your life. &lt;div&gt;I am here, sitting in a room with the heat on and a fan against my face at full blast, taking care of my father.  I like that I can do this for him, I made him dinner, helped him with his cast, let him sleep and tomorrow I might make him breakfast if I get up before he goes to the doctors with my brother.  I just enjoy the fact that my father actually &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lets&lt;/span&gt; me ake are of him, some dad's go all macho on their kids and dtry not to show any signs of what they would imagine weakness.  I think that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;compassion&lt;/span&gt; is far from weakness, in fact, I believe it takes strength to be compassionate, to cry, to actually &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;care.  &lt;/span&gt;When did society decide that they would put limits on how a man is supposed to act and react? There is this song I like called &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Teach Me How To Love by Musiq Soulchild.&lt;/span&gt;  I love this song because the first line in it is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"I was told the true definition of a man, was to never cry, work til you die, got to provide.  Always be the rock for my fam, protect them by all means..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just think, that if guys are raised to be hard as rocks, just you know, no feeling, keep everything bottled up inside, that no good can come of that.  I fear for boys raised that way, because they really can never connect wit anyone fully.  I'm not sure how to fix that, but I think that's why God created women... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-725908126992626405?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/725908126992626405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/untitled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/725908126992626405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/725908126992626405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3996847209881297476</id><published>2009-07-07T14:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T15:01:41.414-04:00</updated><title type='text'>p.s. i loathe you</title><content type='html'>For those of you that have younger siblings, don't you have those days where you just need them to like....disappear? Unless that really is just me, which would then be quite concerning.  Anyways, my sister is into this &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Justin Bieber&lt;/span&gt; kid who just made his break into the music industry, 15, Canada, whatever.  Only has one song, and she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;won't stop &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;to it!!! I practically know the entire song by heart now because she's been listening to it ever since she heard me play it, which on my part, was a terrible mistake.&lt;br /&gt;Although if it wasn't for me, my sister wouldn't have any type of good taste in music, but of course she still listens to some garbage...really cannot stand that electropop like stuff it's all the same to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the ideas that I have for the book I'm going to begin to write are actually not all that bad in my opinion, I decided which idea would be the best for a storyline, plus writing it would be more personal and more people could relate to it.  So wish me luck, I'm starting that sooner than later.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of books, I'm going to start reading a lot more over the summer, I have a few books that need finishing, then I'm heading out to the library and picking up a lot more books to read and brush up, I used to read so much and I've fallen behind (this makes me sound like a nerd doesn't it? Nerdfighters ;D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got my report card, 81 average! Never gotten an average as good as that, unfortunately because of my average last semester (75) I did not make honor roll. Blaah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DFTBA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3996847209881297476?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3996847209881297476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/ps-i-loathe-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3996847209881297476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3996847209881297476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/ps-i-loathe-you.html' title='p.s. i loathe you'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7387747089624932558</id><published>2009-07-04T20:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T20:53:37.759-04:00</updated><title type='text'>strangers have the best candy</title><content type='html'>Apparently I already posted today, but really, on my watch I posted yesterday.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was uneventful (what else is new), kind of got into a fight with my mom wasn't very nice but it wasn't that serious, we just both left the house to cool off, and she brought me back an iced capp hehe.&lt;br /&gt;So bored though, like really I hate summertime because I have nothing to do! So what do I do? Sit around...eat...blog...yeah I'm going to get fat soon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Actually&lt;/span&gt; my older sister found this work out thing and she wants me to do it with her, so we can both get back into shape together since she just had a baby.  So I hope that will be fun, hopefully I won't die XD but I really could use the exercise gained a bit of weight since first semester, and you can totally tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking a bit about what I want to write my book about, but I'm not sure if I want to do something like more fantasy or more real life... or maybe a mix of both? Like one of those cheesy teen witch books? Not sure yet, maybe I'll get a second opinion, or develop a vague story line for both my ideas and see which one I like best.  Now that I said that idea out loud, I think I'll try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so looking forward to grade eleven to come, I'm finally a senior, even though I don't look like one, which sucks a bit.  Really need a job and I need to get my marks together this year and the next if I want a shot at any  decent universities.  I think I can pull it off, but I'm not all that confident, I'm really going to have to give it my all, but I'm so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lazy&lt;/span&gt;.  haha! no...not really funny actually that's not good at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fuck&lt;/span&gt;.  I hate those days where you feel shitty and don't know what do to or why you feel like that.  I get these days often, it's like a downward spiral, and we all know where &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; end up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7387747089624932558?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7387747089624932558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/strangers-have-best-candy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7387747089624932558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7387747089624932558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/strangers-have-best-candy.html' title='strangers have the best candy'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5210829541061303928</id><published>2009-07-04T00:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T00:26:37.287-04:00</updated><title type='text'>august's rhapsody</title><content type='html'>Listening to the movie soundtrack for the movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;August Rush&lt;/span&gt; makes me giddy and warm and fuzzy inside (apologies for the cliche).  But it really does, I love the thought of music bringing people together, especially families, plus the music is simple fantastic.  I wish I could create music as beautiful as others do, maybe I could if I really put my heart into it I guess.&lt;br /&gt;Something that I plan on doing this summer though is writing, or at least beginning to write, a novel.  Not sure what I am going to write about really, maybe it will be one of those tragic books where the main character runs from their nightmares, falls in love, blah blah blah.  I don't want it to be like every other book I've read though, I don't want it to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;predictable&lt;/span&gt;.  I need to think this one through, really put my heart into it, even if it means I have to add some personal experiences into it, so be it if that's what it takes.&lt;br /&gt;I really feel like achieving something amazing.  Not sure what I want to achieve yet, or how I will, but I just...want to achieve something.  I feel like my life is just mediocre and bland, nothing that will get me remembered for.  I want to make a change in peoples' lives, but I'm not sure how.  I want to be remembered but I don't know what to be remembered by, as long as it's not a negative thing.  I'm not sure about anything at this time in my life really anyways, so I try not to worry about this garbage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is going to be lame, I can see it already.  I have no one to talk to anymore, I feel like...I feel like I can't trust anyone anymore, and that no one wants to even talk to me.  I feel as if everyone I thought was my friend really isn't anymore, and I'm not sure what to do.  Who can I turn to now? I can't talk to some people without getting judged, or I really don't end up knowing what to do after I've talked to some other people... I feel like I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; professional help &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; to talk to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;somebody!&lt;/span&gt; To think of it, that makes me sort of sad because well...what does that say about me? Why is it that I cannot some how connect on a personal level with people I consider my friends? I've got my family I guess, but they're not always around, not that I need someone always here, always talking and listening, I just need...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to realize how close I am with Rosic, even when I turn into a complete fuck up and get confused and just act retarded and send mixed signals when I do not mean to, he is still there for me! It is truly frustrating that someone could actually take all my shit and still see me in a good light.  I don't get it, but maybe that's the whole point...I'm not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to get it, that would ruin everything.&lt;br /&gt;I really hope though that what we plan will get to carry itself out, I really do want to go away to university with him and even stay at a place with him.  I feel &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;safe&lt;/span&gt; around him, I know nothing will happen, I know he won't try anything, there's this infinite respect for me that he has, and of course I respect him too.  I see myself with him in the future, but not with him with him, which is why I feel so shitty, it's like that movie Made of Honor... the guy is best friends with this girl and she watches him get with all these girls until she falls in love and he realizes that he loves her, and it's just confusing and shitty and I don't want that to happen, because life isn't like a movie (which I have to constantly remind myself day in and out).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this getting long or is it just me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got in touch with an old &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;old&lt;/span&gt; friend from when I lived in Burlington for all of like....two years haha.  Miss him to death and he's really really nice, someone I can talk to, but don't realy because well there's no need, I could use one of those friends who is just their when he needs to be but I don't need to always have him there.  Hopefully we will get to hang out soon, haven't seen the boy in seven years.  Funny how we haven't spoken in seven years and now we talk like we never missed a day.  Odd...? Not sure, probably a good thing really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blaah, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SO&lt;/span&gt; excited for the new Harry Potter movie coming out.  Also had an amazing night at the Lifestory Monologue show on Saturday! I love that band with a deep passion haha, I'm having Richard's babies (of course not).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5210829541061303928?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5210829541061303928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/august.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5210829541061303928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5210829541061303928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/august.html' title='august&apos;s rhapsody'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8178875382230989826</id><published>2009-07-01T00:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T01:00:13.262-04:00</updated><title type='text'>summer , canada's birthday , shit like this</title><content type='html'>Haven't posted in awhile.  Nothing new really has happened.  Finally finished grade ten, not sure how I did on my marks or anything lost my OEN number awhile ago... Not really worried about it, as long as I didn't get a phone call I didn't fail any classes.  So that's good.  But then again, the school doesn't have my new phone number either... HA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things have happened I guess, ...was in like the shortest relationship of life.  But I don't feel like re-opening wounds, for some reason it just set me off, the whole thing.  I swear it was just like before with...well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to a party this weekend.. or was it last weekend? Got slightly drunk ahha, I must've been weird drunk, but that's okay I had fun and the best part was no hangover once again :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I am planning on doing, hopefully once I get a solid good idea, is to write a book.  I want to, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to leave something like a book behind when I leave.  I want to be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;remembered&lt;/span&gt; for doing something, I don't want to be just an occasional thought to someone at instantaneous moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting late.&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8178875382230989826?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8178875382230989826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-canadas-birthday-shit-like-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8178875382230989826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8178875382230989826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-canadas-birthday-shit-like-this.html' title='summer , canada&apos;s birthday , shit like this'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-298120765193863889</id><published>2009-06-12T22:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T22:38:40.264-04:00</updated><title type='text'>YAY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FINALLY HAVE TV HOOKED UP.&lt;/span&gt;  Thank goodness, I thought I was going to die of boredom in this house, plus I got my actual fast working computer back too so it's all coming together quite nicely.  TV is basic cable though...I will miss the 200 channels of movies that we used t o have, and being able to actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see&lt;/span&gt; what was on TV instead of looking through channel 5 for fifteen minutes. &lt;br /&gt;Today was an okay day, finished my civics culminating, had a break from science culminating, have to finish that and a religion assignment by Monday.  Dun dun dunhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH and officially, the Pittsburgh Penguins WON&lt;br /&gt;WOOOOOHOOOOOO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-298120765193863889?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/298120765193863889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/yay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/298120765193863889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/298120765193863889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/yay.html' title='YAY!'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-872539088574715169</id><published>2009-06-11T19:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T20:16:25.668-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not An Angel</title><content type='html'>Oh my, the pressure is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;on&lt;/span&gt;! Exams, erm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finals&lt;/span&gt; are coming up really really fast.  And I am no where near ready, I've been procrastinating like a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pro &lt;/span&gt;it's not really a good thing.  Oh well, I am just so happy that summer is basically around the corner.  Like a week and a few extra days? Not even.  Amazing how time flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  sorry for the short post, too tired lately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-872539088574715169?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/872539088574715169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-angel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/872539088574715169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/872539088574715169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-angel.html' title='Not An Angel'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1245850743410362716</id><published>2009-06-09T16:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T17:07:11.392-04:00</updated><title type='text'>shiiiiit-ake mushrooms</title><content type='html'>Science culminating is a bitch.  Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;Civics culminating is relaxing and easy, get to listen to music while we do it so it's easier to focus, and it's about stuff we know and all, so it's nothing too hard.  It's just a lot of writing but then agian, what in high school isn't? (The answer is music class...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting enough day, nothing new and exciting, had a lame A lunch, and tomorrow will most likely be the same... Blaa.&lt;br /&gt;Just finally finished my overdue civics assignment, glad that's out of the way finally.  Hopefully I don't do too bad on it since I kind of rushed on it, not to mention I didn't know what was supposed to be on it because I didn't have the page with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have officially decided to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; start writing a novel.  I have a pretty good idea for a storyline and all that, so once exams are finished with, I will most definitely get started with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1245850743410362716?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1245850743410362716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/shiiiiit-ake-mushrooms.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1245850743410362716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1245850743410362716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/shiiiiit-ake-mushrooms.html' title='shiiiiit-ake mushrooms'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6182148800383796070</id><published>2009-06-08T21:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T22:19:53.372-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sundresses and Sweater Vests!</title><content type='html'>Wow, check my pretty decent mood today, haha.  Awesome stuff.  I feel like really...weird, giddy, I feel like being random.&lt;br /&gt;So instead of bitching about my day, I'm going to talk about music, youtube, and other entertainment shizz like that.  Yes, I did say shizz, and yes, I realize it's not really a word.  Stfu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically I've found this one artist named &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Morgan Laurence&lt;/span&gt; whose music is actually pretty fucking fantabulous.  I'll post a link a little later on.&lt;br /&gt;Also, one of my favorite bands is coming to play soon, June 27th I believe, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lifestory: Monologue  &lt;/span&gt;is pretty fucking amazing, their music speaks to people a lot, and I love that the band is really down to earth and into their own music style, not trying to comform to anything else haha.  Link again to their myspace will be posted later.&lt;br /&gt;Another favorite band of mine just came out with their new album.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There for Tomorrow&lt;/span&gt; just released &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Little Faster&lt;/span&gt;.  I downloaded it, yeah thats right I'm broke thus no purchase, but I'm not going to give the website or wherever I may have gotten it, for you know...the purpose of not getting booked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my, so I found this website, and it basically has every single tv show and like movies and music, although I haven't checked out the movies and music parts yet, known to man.  I swear, they have everything, all the seasons and stuff like that.  I usually go on it to watch some Criminal Minds just to catch up on some of the episodes, but yeah, it's a pretty good site, check it out sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I finished reading Paper Towns by John Green, excellent read, really.  I just have to read An Abundance of Katherines and then I'd be finished reading all of John Green's novels.  Hopefully he writes more, and soon.  I am currently reading a Criminal Minds book, yes, I am clearly obsessed with that show, which is alright, it's a healthy obsession haha.  I actually am aspiring to become a profiler, of course, Canada does not have an FBI, but still, it would be a cool thing to be.  That or a musician, not sure yet.  I know, they're two very different things, hard to decide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on youtube, well I spend a lot of time on youtube, watching my favorite youtubers like kevjumba, shaycarl, sxephil, charlestrippy, etc.  The ones I listed, minus kevjumba, all make daily videos of what they do that day, which I think is cool, and sometimes they actually have really interesting days.  Makes me wish that I could film my day sometimes.  Although, I would have t invest in a camcorder...hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of investments, you need money for that...money I do not have...which means... I really should get a job, jeez I'm a lazy bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOH, almost forgot those links.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);" href="http://www.myspace.com/morganchingmusic"&gt;Morgan Laurence&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" href="http://www.myspace.com/lifestorymonologue"&gt;Lifestory: Monologue&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://www.yidio.com/"&gt;Yidio&lt;/a&gt;  (the website with all the tv episodes)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Enjoyz :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6182148800383796070?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6182148800383796070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/sundresses-and-sweater-vests.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6182148800383796070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6182148800383796070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/sundresses-and-sweater-vests.html' title='Sundresses and Sweater Vests!'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6813539273699741922</id><published>2009-06-05T23:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:29:02.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper Towns</title><content type='html'>Go read it, seriously.  Possibly one of the best books I have ever read.  I actually cried a bit and laughed out loud numerous times...and a book has to be damn funny to make me do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6813539273699741922?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6813539273699741922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/paper-towns.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6813539273699741922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6813539273699741922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/paper-towns.html' title='Paper Towns'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3104459110827331400</id><published>2009-06-05T23:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:24:10.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Ready to Drop</title><content type='html'>WOOH.  I am so sore man, legs are killing me from a bike ride.  I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; out of shape it's disgusting.  Hung around with a friend, who happens to have the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cutest dog in the entire world&lt;/span&gt; and it just happened to love me !&lt;br /&gt;Today was an OK day, music was fun, finished religion culminating, although I think with a little more time it could have been a lot better.  Science was fun and interesting, learned how to read weather maps and stuff like what you see on the weather channel.  Civics was fun, as always I mean of course it is, because I get to flirt and we are allowed to talk and it's just a fun class overall.&lt;br /&gt;Kinda still into the same guy, but not really as interested, I'm just not into the get a boyfriend wave anymore, it's summer, which means I can meet a whole new bunch of people this time, and well, who knows where that can lead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To update you on the whole fight scene with Rosic, it's not really getting better.  He's mad a me because I'm mad and won't tell him why, and it's just a never ending cycle.  I'm mad at him for being an asshole and just annoying and shit, and I would tell him that if he would stop avoiding me.  And when confronted with this he says he's "giving me time to cool off".  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TIME TO COOL OFF?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Are you fucking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kidding me????&lt;/span&gt; This guy thinks he knows me so well that he actually does shit like that.  And now he's mad and well, I guess I did flip out on him, I may have told him what he can do to himself and that  hate his guts.  And sad to say that I said this because I knew it would make him either a) angry b) sad or c) come crawling back apologizing and bullshitting his way until the next fight we have.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't understand that when we are not talking, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to talk to him that much more.  I do not have feelings for him in that way at all, it's too weird.  But it's even weirder not talking to him at school or on the phone at home or whatever, I guess because it's been so routine...&lt;br /&gt;But whatever, if he doesn't want to talk to me, fuck him.  I'm tired of always apologizing when I didn't do anything wrong.  I mean, why should I apologize for me being pissed off? I am only pissed for legitamate reasons, so obviously it's sort of a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blahh, so tired of going on and on about this dramatic shit.  Excited for the Street Festival tomorrow, We Are Bravest is playing! Aha, hopefully I will get a nice tan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3104459110827331400?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3104459110827331400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-ready-to-drop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3104459110827331400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3104459110827331400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-ready-to-drop.html' title='I&apos;m Ready to Drop'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1847395828404501834</id><published>2009-06-04T22:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T22:13:39.511-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Here.</title><content type='html'>So, I moved this week so it's been pretty chaotic and all so really couldn't find the time to write anything you know?&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, nothing really new has happened, got a new haircut whatever.  In a fight with Rosic &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;.  Stupid shit, not even important, but I am definitely not apologizing this time, well I shouldn't ever have to since it's always &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; fault!&lt;br /&gt;Blahh, culminating and exams, fucking shit, so exhausting and I'm worried about my marks, well not really I am just afraid on how I am going to do on the exams this year.&lt;br /&gt;Music is going well, getting a 90, playing trombone and trumpet.  Fun fun.  Also teaching myself how to play guitar, not very good yet, can only play a few songs haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exciting stuff, Street Fest/Fair is on Saturday so I'm planning on going with a bunch of friends, should be uber fun.  (Yeah, uber.) Stoked, fresh, trippy.  Get it out of your system bud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1847395828404501834?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1847395828404501834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/still-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1847395828404501834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1847395828404501834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/still-here.html' title='Still Here.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2686760363759136675</id><published>2009-05-27T23:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T23:27:07.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping Up Appearances</title><content type='html'>Jeez, I just realized how annoying it is when I remember this late at night to make a blog post.  I really should start doing this in the day time when I am not as tired or anything, then the day's memories would still be fresh in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, basically today was uneventful, minus getting locked out of my house, walking about twenty minutes to find my sister who also didn't have a key, so I ended up talking to some friends and walking back.  Kind of weird, this kid I just recently met, saw him walking and yelled hello, he's a sweet kid, but just as I was asking him to borrow his cell phone, my mom pulled into the drive way, jeez, timing is impeccable sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, don't know where my dad is, kind of freaking out slightly, he usually isn't out this late, or at least he calls and checks in....he's been acting weird lately, I'm not sure if everything that's happened and that is happening is finally hitting him or what, I am so confused right now, no one talks to me anymore, and I find myself closing into my own personal bubble too.  I'm just afraid that he went off and did something stupid...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2686760363759136675?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2686760363759136675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/keeping-up-appearances.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2686760363759136675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2686760363759136675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/keeping-up-appearances.html' title='Keeping Up Appearances'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-2912821820888599801</id><published>2009-05-26T22:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T22:37:40.385-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You Have Been Terminated</title><content type='html'>Today was a pretty decent day I guess.  Went to see Terminator Salvation, to be honest, I was on the edge of my seat the entire time, and pretty make shaking from the intensity of the entire movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, my day went pretty well, cannot complain very much or anything, it was just a day.  Fourth period never fails to make me happy, the teacher is great, the class is great, and of course, that certain someone is in that class to.  All the more reason to smile and be happy, or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Wow, it's funny how someone's smile can make your entire day.  Like, you see it, and you get all tingly inside and you're just bubbly...just bubbly.  What a wonderful feeling.&lt;br /&gt;To think that I wanted to give up that feeling altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got into a fight with one of my closest friends, I probably have mentioned him a few times, it was a scary fight, he actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yelled&lt;/span&gt; at me for the first time ever.  Like I've known him for almost two years...and he's never yelled at me, until yesterday night.  I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hate hate hate&lt;/span&gt; it when people raise their voice at me, even when it's my fault or something, I think it's unnecessary. &lt;br /&gt;Blah, whatever I'm not getting into that, such a stupid situation that probably could have been avoided...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discovered, okay well...not by myself really, but there's this guitarist Andy Mckee, he's pretty freaking insane at guitar, really like his music, probably download some of his stuff haha.  Really good, great for pick me up days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, until tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. if you haven't already guessed, I am planning on making a post everyday, even if my day wasn't interesting, until I get a video camera, this will be my blog until I can start vlogging ...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S as much as a nerd that that makes me sound....haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-2912821820888599801?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2912821820888599801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-have-been-terminated.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2912821820888599801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/2912821820888599801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-have-been-terminated.html' title='You Have Been Terminated'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-1756979946846787887</id><published>2009-05-25T23:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T23:25:57.444-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper Towns - Remembering the Lost ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://heightslibrary.org/wordpress/ratpack/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/papertowns.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 280px;" src="http://heightslibrary.org/wordpress/ratpack/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/papertowns.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm reading this book by John Green, who I really love, his books are fantastic and he has this funny youtube channel with his brother, Hank.  Anyways the book is called Paper Towns, it is pretty good so far, not really getting the the mysterious part, well I am but I am not sure what to make of it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/SARAHM%7E1/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, sadly, today is the one year anniversary of Mario and Ilko's tragic accident, and honestly, I cannot believe it's been a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whole year&lt;/span&gt;.  It's scary to think how people can just pick up and move on with their lives in such a short time, I'm not saying people will forget, but life does go on.  I wish that I had gotten to meet them and get to know them, when I think about it, I sometimes find myself wracking my brains trying to think of a time when I saw one of those boys in the hallway, or bumped into them, but unfortunately no such memory exists.  I do not think I crossed paths with these boys, because they weren't any different then any face I see everyday, which makes me even more upset, because they changed a lot of lives, and of course, lost theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, it's late, just wanted to get that out of my system, couldn't seem to find anyone to talk to about it since today was actually terrible, well, after school mostly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-1756979946846787887?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1756979946846787887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/paper-towns-remembering-lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1756979946846787887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/1756979946846787887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/paper-towns-remembering-lost.html' title='Paper Towns - Remembering the Lost ♥'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-5359813050106989759</id><published>2009-05-23T18:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T18:00:43.299-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hero of War - Video.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&amp;videoid=57569588"&gt;Hero Of War&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;object width="425px" height="360px" &gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=57569588,t=1,mt=video"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=57569588,t=1,mt=video" width="425" height="360" allowFullScreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-5359813050106989759?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5359813050106989759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/hero-of-war-video.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5359813050106989759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/5359813050106989759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/hero-of-war-video.html' title='Hero of War - Video.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-440893404448191058</id><published>2009-05-22T23:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T23:30:59.103-04:00</updated><title type='text'>late nights</title><content type='html'>I'm so exhausted, so this is going to be extremely short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was actually a pretty fantastical day, and yes, I know fantastical is not a word, but shh.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I think I'm starting to like this kid in my class...which is like...kind of good and kind of bad, because I'm just setting myself up again for heart break, but then again, you always get that little voice that says ,"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lets try it one last time&lt;/span&gt;".  Of course it never really is the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Z.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-440893404448191058?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/440893404448191058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/late-nights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/440893404448191058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/440893404448191058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/late-nights.html' title='late nights'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-9032545020293126470</id><published>2009-05-20T17:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T17:16:17.173-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe In;;Breathe Out;;</title><content type='html'>So basically, I'm doing much better than last time I freaked out of course...ha ha?&lt;br /&gt;Only trouble right now is that I am &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not ever again&lt;/span&gt; speaking to Rosic.  He's an asshole.  A seductive, perverted, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;asshole&lt;/span&gt;.  No need to get into to detail of exactly why I do not wish to ever talk to this kid again, but we'll see how long I can actually hold a grudge because, in this situation, I am pretty sure I can keep it for a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; long time.  And I usually never hold grudges, never.  The longest grudge or maybe not grudge, but I guess a streak of not talking to someone ever is about a year and I'm still going on that, so maybe, hopefully, I can never talk to him ever again, which may be possible because graduation is in near sight...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of graduation, I have a bit of a choice to make, I either play at the graduation mass in band which really be fun because we get to play Jupiter.  Or not go to the band thing and go on a field trip for science to Bronte Creek or something and just have fun there.  If I go on the field trip, I really wouldn't have any classes either, which means, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no Schiller.&lt;/span&gt;  So I think the field trip sounds pretty nice right about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, this divorce thing is really just fucking destroying everything.  Actually.  No scratch that, it's my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;father&lt;/span&gt; that's making everything ten times fucking worse.  Always accusing my mother of shit, dropping hints that she can't raise me and my sister, always lying, fucking up her bills and shit, honestly, he's fucking 60 something years old, to think that he would act his fucking age and stop acting like a child.  This is his second divorce, so hmmm I am sensing a pattern here... But seriously, he should know the drill, he wants to fight my mother for custody, but that's fucking stupid too, because me and my sister are old enough to make a decision on which parent we want to live with, and obviously, it's not psycho over here.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't understand why he's doing this to us, my mom blames herself, but she's not as depressed now, she's just pissed off at my father.  But hopefully, I won't lose it between now and when we move, hopefully....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-9032545020293126470?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9032545020293126470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/breathe-inbreathe-outi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9032545020293126470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/9032545020293126470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/breathe-inbreathe-outi.html' title='Breathe In;;Breathe Out;;'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8116231575325179365</id><published>2009-05-12T19:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T19:33:49.102-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Quickiee</title><content type='html'>&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1910517&amp;fullscreen=1" width="640" height="360" &gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="AllowScriptAccess" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1910517&amp;fullscreen=1"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1910517&amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"  width="640" height="360"  allowScriptAccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="padding:5px 0; text-align:center; width:640px;"&gt;See more &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/videos"&gt;funny videos&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/pictures"&gt;funny pictures&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/"&gt;CollegeHumor&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my, this made me giggle.  I simply love College Humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you maybe can tell, my mood has lifted slightly, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;slightly&lt;/span&gt;.  Except for the fact that my father is driving my entire family insane with his whole charade with this messy divorce.  My mom isn't happy, she doesn't want him around and he really should understand that and stop acting like a child trying to get me and my sister on his side.  It's ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: don't get married.&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8116231575325179365?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8116231575325179365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/quickiee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8116231575325179365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8116231575325179365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/quickiee.html' title='Quickiee'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-529503195375660051</id><published>2009-05-12T16:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T16:26:02.838-04:00</updated><title type='text'>FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am so SICK AND TIRED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and it's not just something silly.&lt;br /&gt;It's fucking EVERYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand it anymore, I'm miserable all the fucking time.&lt;br /&gt;I hate it&lt;br /&gt;I hate everything&lt;br /&gt;and I hate feeling this way all the time, fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Okay, now that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; is over with, I feel a whole lot better.  Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;Lately, things have been rough, Ten Second Epic concert on Saturday night was fun though, basically the only highlight of my weekend, plus my new guitar haha that I am slowly and painfully (callused fingers) learning to play.&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, nothing much has happened lately, well actually there was that one big thing on Sunday night, but no biggie, what's done is done.  Unfortunately, the result I wanted didn't exactly pull through.  Even worse, I totally broke my friends heart in the process, not my intention at all, but now I feel really shitty about it, which is definitely not helping me in this situation.&lt;br /&gt;Music Night is on Thursday, really excited to play my trumpet and trombone haha, wonder how I'll manage.  My family is coming to hear us play so that's going to be exciting.  Also, on Thursday is some Link Crew meeting (yeah, I got in!) so I'm pretty excited for that, plus it means civvies day for us!!  And that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;also&lt;/span&gt; means no religion!! woohoo!!&lt;br /&gt;Friday, might plan to go see Star Trek of X-men Origins with a few friends, maybe, not exactly sure who to go with or who is even up to it yet.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, plans are usually made at the last minute anyways.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow, although it's not very likely, I just hate myself a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-529503195375660051?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/529503195375660051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/529503195375660051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/529503195375660051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.html' title='FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3542478070199740277</id><published>2009-05-04T19:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T19:22:07.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone Downhill.</title><content type='html'>I feel like crap.&lt;div&gt;Not just at random, spontaneous moments, but &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all the time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I've come to the realizationg of my unhappiness too,&lt;br /&gt;I'm alone&lt;br /&gt;I'm ugly&lt;br /&gt;I'm not that smart&lt;br /&gt;I'm loud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This list could get long, but then I'd feel like I'd be bitching more than I need to...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fuck this.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is so fucked up! It's ridiculous,&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3542478070199740277?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3542478070199740277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/gone-downhill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3542478070199740277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3542478070199740277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/gone-downhill.html' title='Gone Downhill.'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-6728143783913228781</id><published>2009-05-03T22:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T22:14:29.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>shot after shot after shot...</title><content type='html'>Oh my, this weekend was quite the adventure I must say.  On Friday I skipped out on a party to hang out with a friend, which was stupid in it's own way because now that "friend" is like "I really like you" and I'm like... shit.  Yesterday was pretty fun too, hung out with some friends from school and slept over at one of hose friends house haha.  We watched &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Figh Club&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Milk&lt;/span&gt;.  Which both are actually pretty fantastic movies, so you should go out and rent them right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, experienced something pretty gross that night too, not going to lie.  I "blew chunks" for reasons the title should make obvious...haha, I am the lightweight of lightweights, I have realized that much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I finally went shopping for clothes that actually &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fit&lt;/span&gt;.  Which, sadly enough, was loooonng over due.  Had a barbeque at my older sister's house today, had fun with her two adorable kids, and then went to visit my grandparents since my aunt had come down from Ottawa to visit.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next weekend should be pretty fun to, sleeping over at my sister's to have a long over due girl's night (including the two babies, but that's no problem really).  Then Saturday night &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Ten Second Epic&lt;/span&gt; is coming to Milton!! Which I am totally stoked for because they are pretty fucking amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yeah, great...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Z.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-6728143783913228781?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6728143783913228781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/shot-after-shot-after-shot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6728143783913228781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/6728143783913228781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/shot-after-shot-after-shot.html' title='shot after shot after shot...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-3033434830567532654</id><published>2009-05-01T15:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T15:44:25.790-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IF YOU READ THIS :: YOU NOW HAVE SWINE FLU</title><content type='html'>Oh sorry, the title was wrong, it's now "H1N1 Flu" but whatever.  I am so sick and tired of people freaking out like it's SARS.  Ridiculous, even my Religion teacher is like DONT COUGH NEAR ME.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;FUCKKK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0); font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Although, there is a rumor going around that one kid already has it, but seriously, it's just like the regular flu just a new strain.  I believe that if you freak out about it and become paranoid, you will be more likely to get it.  Now, I'm not being ignorant, I know what I am talking about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's what's up:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the United States, there have been 141 cases, of those 141, only 1 person has died.  Now before you all &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;freak out&lt;/span&gt;, that person who died unfortunately was a 26 month old baby, who was from Mexico and died in Texas.  So &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;everyone needs to chill the fuck out.&lt;/span&gt;  Before I give you all swine flu (haha).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-3033434830567532654?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3033434830567532654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-you-read-this-you-now-have-swine-flu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3033434830567532654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/3033434830567532654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-you-read-this-you-now-have-swine-flu.html' title='IF YOU READ THIS :: YOU NOW HAVE SWINE FLU'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-4057611511414080961</id><published>2009-04-28T22:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T22:22:53.106-04:00</updated><title type='text'>oh oh oh</title><content type='html'>Oh man, religion project due on Friday, still haven't started my part of the project...SO DEAD.&lt;br /&gt;And on top of that I have a civics test tomorrow, and a chemistry unit test on Thursday &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;on top of&lt;/span&gt; a stupid religion test too.  WTH, if grade ten is like this, I am so fucked for grade eleven and twelve...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there, for once I managed to get over a guy in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;record time&lt;/span&gt;.   It took me approximately 16 hours to officially and safely get over &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt;.  Even though I am sort of bummed out that it didn't work, it's better than not knowing ever right? I'd rather get this part over with and move on, then get hurt later down the road and like I don't know.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Weather was shitty today, so lame.  I liked the sun while it lasted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like pulling my hair out now, family life has gone down the drain, really need to get a job, there's just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so much to do&lt;/span&gt; and I can't handle it all by myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Got report cards today, sort of pissed off about my marks, fucking careers teacher fucked up every one's marks it's ridiculous.  Science, I'm disappointed, but I know I'll be able to pull it up significantly once we start biology it's easy.  Religion, meh I thought I was failing, but the shockingly high mark I have in that class (not high - high but higher than I would have thought) is something I cannot complain about.  Music, well 90% is pretty fucking awesome, and I believe I can still do better, two instruments, heck yes, my efforts will be duly noted. Hopefully I'll be able to get on honor roll this year, I don't think that will happen though considering my average last semester, 75 not bad, currently mine is 76.8, but I don't see it getting higher to average out both unless I pull some major smart shits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Excited about one thing though.  No actually two things, but I'm not really genuinely excited for one of the things but still, it's something to do.  Fitzpatrick Incident show at St.Paul's is tomorrow, I am pretty excited, even if they did bump the price to $10... And on Friday, a party, apparently rumored to be the party to end all parties, but you know, whatever that means.  I'm not into the party scene,  but it's an excuse to dance, get drunk and get away from my shitty home life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright, it's late.  Toodles. (I promise never to say that again).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Z.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-4057611511414080961?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4057611511414080961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-oh-oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4057611511414080961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/4057611511414080961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-oh-oh.html' title='oh oh oh'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7745365931643679965</id><published>2009-04-27T19:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T20:16:01.817-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fill me in</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;okay, so many things have occured over the past several days since I last posted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;well first off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt; ITS SO FREAKING NICE OUT.!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so stop fucking reading this and get the fuck outside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NOWWWWWWW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After you get your daily intake of vitamin C, you make continue reading...&lt;br /&gt;So, my school's semi formal was on Thursday night, pretty uneventful, except for people who were getting 'down and dirty', but of course it's never really a surprise.  Danced with one person, big whoop, I can't really dance anyway, besides I don't need to rub my ass into some guys crotch to have a good time.&lt;br /&gt;A couple days ago, I got in a bit of trouble with my parents, and now I'm seeing a pysch.  Yeah I know the proper term or whatever, but that's what he is to me.  I hate sitting in that room.  I hate knowing that that man couldn't give a shit about what I do, and he only pretends to care because he is getting something out of it.  Ridiculous, and I really hope they don't put me on meds either, because I don't feel like walking around like a zombie, numb to everything and being uninteresting (as if I am either way haha).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Oh, and that 'guy' that I have fallen for, yeah it's going I guess, I am still as confused as ever, when  I talk to him we totally connect, but sometimes he doesn't show anything, it's like....off and on, and I'm not sure if that's a bad sign or anything, I mean he is really shy and whatever but I don't know what to make of it anymore.  &lt;br /&gt;(grr, stupid font, I don't know why it changed itself half way through).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to one of his friends, and I know they are pretty close, the three of these guys tell each other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; pretty much so I learn a lot when I decide to listen haha.  I was told that he was afraid of being shot down, which now makes me confused as to what kind of signals I'm sending this kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Boys are stupid.  Let's just end that at that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing interesting, I have finally realized that I can't allow myself to fall in love with others.  Now I still love my mommy and daddy and whatever, but it's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;other people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.  I have this really close friend, and I love him, but I can't love him at the same time.  I just don't want to, it's so weird.... He loves me, but I don't get that feeling because I only love him like a brother.  But the worst part is, knowing that I can't really love him back and it's only one sided.  I hate that he cares for me so much and I can't give much in return.  Maybe for him me just being there is good enough, but I'm afraid there will come a day when I can't give him anymore than that and he will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; more.  I'm scared of letting him down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, so on Friday I believe.... yeah friday, it was a P.A. Day (woot) so and bunch of friends and I decided to go watch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Obsessed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; which is possibly one of the best movies I have seen this year so far.  I suggest you go see it, but only on a day when the weather is crappy because you shouldn't be inside on days like these, and I hope there are a lot of them this summer.  So we watched the movie and just hung around Booster Juice and then Second Cup, fun times, love hanging with my friends, I never would have thought I would be in my own position today if I was thinking about this kind of stuff about three years ago, or before high school or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow this is getting really lengthy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright so.. one last thing then, I found this website, and it's pretty self explanatory when you see it, so check it out and donate.  It's a non-profit organization called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.justyellfire.com/index.php"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Just Yell Fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.  Just check out  the website (hint, click the bolded words to get to the site genius)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Watch the movie thing they have there, it's worth watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7745365931643679965?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7745365931643679965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/fill-me-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7745365931643679965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7745365931643679965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/fill-me-in.html' title='fill me in'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-8206678282077159518</id><published>2009-04-20T16:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T16:52:08.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Worry, New Post Coming In A Moment...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-top:0; width:336; text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;object width="336" height="383"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.socialvibe.com/sv2.swf?sid=834853"/&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="s=12-834853"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.socialvibe.com/sv2.swf?sid=834853" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="s=12-834853" width="336" height="383"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.socialvibe.com/?r=599346&amp;rs=join_sv" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://media.socialvibe.com/m/badge/join_sv.png" border="0"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-8206678282077159518?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8206678282077159518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/dont-worry-new-post-coming-in-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8206678282077159518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/8206678282077159518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/dont-worry-new-post-coming-in-moment.html' title='Don&apos;t Worry, New Post Coming In A Moment...'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8090336300872922018.post-7192638089867065459</id><published>2009-04-19T00:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T00:18:19.608-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cut, sneeze. whoops</title><content type='html'>as emo as that title sounds, seems fitting i guess?&lt;br /&gt;don't worry, i haven't lost my mind, i thought it was funny-ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, i hate when people close to you pull that one line, you know the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"if you loved me, you wouldn't (fill in gut wrenching line here)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuuuuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life just got more complicated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8090336300872922018-7192638089867065459?l=thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7192638089867065459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/cut-sneeze-whoops.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7192638089867065459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8090336300872922018/posts/default/7192638089867065459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbyagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/cut-sneeze-whoops.html' title='cut, sneeze. whoops'/><author><name>The Captain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08327536535215212317</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fi2OmskoWk4/Spx7Gs8TVtI/AAAAAAAAAEc/QzSUI2oRSgU/S220/n603635581_4330016_3694.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
