<?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-3809316306418966278</id><updated>2011-07-30T12:04:39.414-07:00</updated><category term='regrets'/><category term='movie'/><category term='disappointing'/><category term='waiting'/><category term='babies'/><category term='people'/><category term='pregnant'/><category term='baby'/><category term='mistakes'/><category term='intro'/><category term='married'/><category term='colors'/><category term='sick'/><category term='dream'/><category term='labor'/><category term='movie?'/><category term='love'/><category term='whining'/><category term='changes'/><category term='sadness'/><category term='engaged'/><category term='FML'/><category term='friends'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>It's An Orange Life</title><subtitle type='html'>Mind Your Own Orange!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6179787178838405401</id><published>2010-04-12T00:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T00:16:37.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Tomorrow's Wish"</title><content type='html'>CONTEXT: Juniper is a shy young woman with learning disabilities. She lives in a small town with her grandmother, sheltered away from most of the world. In this scene, she is talking her cousin, Megan, about her first and only kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JUNIPER: "I kissed a boy once. At least I tried. I don't know if it counts if they don't kiss back. But I tried to kiss a boy and it almost worked. Most of the time Grandma and I don't get to see folks much, but we go into town. Sometimes. And Grandma says I just have to be careful to mind my manners, and Grandma says I'm real good at being careful, but sometimes I get so bored in that little town. Only one video store. Only two churches. And the park only has two swings and a pool that never gets filled up anymore. But in our little town there is a boy named Samuel. He's a bagboy at the grocery store. He does it just right and never squishes the eggs. And he has red hair and green eyes. And...freckles all over his face! And Samuel is so nice. So nice to me and Gram. He would always smile and always say "thank you" and "you're welcome." if he says, "have a nice day," then you do. That's how good he is at his job. And I always wanted...I always wanted to be close to him, or talk to him, without Gram around. And one day when Gram had a really bad cold I got to go to the store all by myself. And I bought some oyster crackers and medicine. Then I got to watch Samuel all by myself. Watch him do his bagboy job. I just stared and stared, trying to count all of those handsome freckles. Then, he asked if there was anything else I wanted. I just whispered "Yes." And then I grabbed him by the ears and MMmmmmph! That was my first kiss. It was the most romantic moment of my life. Until the manager pulled me off of him."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-6179787178838405401?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6179787178838405401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2010/04/tomorrows-wish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6179787178838405401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6179787178838405401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2010/04/tomorrows-wish.html' title='&quot;Tomorrow&apos;s Wish&quot;'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6361796576795195600</id><published>2009-12-09T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T17:40:22.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like I am living in a dream...not necessarily a good one, sometimes life just doesn't feel real. Like one day I'll wake up and my grandpa won't be gone, my cousin's fiance won't have a brain tumor. Maybe I won't even be alone. It is like a veil is drawn over everything and I'm not seeing clearly...something isn't right.&lt;br /&gt;Am I going to wake up one day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-6361796576795195600?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6361796576795195600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/12/sometimes-i-feel-like-i-am-living-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6361796576795195600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6361796576795195600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/12/sometimes-i-feel-like-i-am-living-in.html' title=''/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-4882375272893169509</id><published>2009-11-07T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T01:06:54.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's interesting how fluid and everchanging life is...one day you're fine and the next you're sick? Alive today...gone next week. Though we make plans and hope for the future, there is nothing that can guarantee that we're going to see it.&lt;br /&gt;My cousin's fiancee (they're set to marry January 30th) had a seizure yesterday. He had a cat scan, and turns out he has a growth on his frontal lobe. Today, probably as I am typing, he is getting an MRI to discover if it is benign. My mother said with his younger age (around 27), it is more likely for it to be benign...plus, with it being on the frontal lobe it is one of the better parts of the brain because of it's resiliency.&lt;br /&gt;However, for my cousin, this must be harder than normal. We lost our grandpa just a week ago and though that was kind of expected, this situation with her fiance came out of nowhere. But that is why I have been thinking about how there are a lot of things we really can't expect, and though we want to think we'll be able to live as long as we want to...we won't always have that chance.&lt;br /&gt;It's all we can do to hope and make our plans. And no matter how hard it can get, it's best to believe we will be able to keep them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-4882375272893169509?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/4882375272893169509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-interesting-how-fluid-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4882375272893169509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4882375272893169509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-interesting-how-fluid-and.html' title=''/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-562060858214345631</id><published>2009-10-30T15:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T21:47:25.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandpa</title><content type='html'>My grandpa passed away this morning. It was peaceful, and he was with at least two of his sons and one daughter-in-law. He was the most loving man I will ever know - loved my grandma with all his heart from the first time he saw her...63 years ago. We lost my grandma two years ago this May, and his heart had been broken ever since. He was a strong, caring grandfather who lived for his family - loving us more than we deserved. I saw him last week, when he was a little better...when I was sitting with him in the early morning, he woke up and told me he loved me, and that I was beautiful. He told me to get married and name my son after him. I am going to miss not having my grandparents meet my future husband, or at my wedding, or see me graduate from college, but I will always carry a part of each around with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-562060858214345631?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/562060858214345631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/10/grandpa.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/562060858214345631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/562060858214345631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/10/grandpa.html' title='Grandpa'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-5968382499833524694</id><published>2009-06-06T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T20:45:19.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of these lyrics will be tattooed somewhere on my person someday....</title><content type='html'>"Love is watching someone die. So who's gonna watch you die?" - Death Cab for Cutie&lt;br /&gt;"Still my fingers catch at the spark of touching you when you're wounded." - Third Eye Blind&lt;br /&gt;"I'm still trying to forget when you said you loved me." - DeVotchka&lt;br /&gt;"I'm falling asleep, but I'm catching your eyes now. So sleep can wait." - Some By Sea&lt;br /&gt;"And for a moment I love everything that I see and think and feel." - Eve 6&lt;br /&gt;"I love, I have loved, I will love." - I Capture the Castle (not a lyric, but still....a line).&lt;br /&gt;"How long do you wanna be loved? [Is forever enough?]" - Dixie Chicks&lt;br /&gt;"The night is beckoning..." - Eve 6&lt;br /&gt;"No day but today..." - Rent&lt;br /&gt;"Will you take me as I am?" - Joni Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;"It ends where it begins. So hot with love it burns our hands." - Dashboard Confessional&lt;br /&gt;"Vigilante thoughts and a cheap guitar..." - Eve 6&lt;br /&gt;"have i found you?" - Iron &amp;amp; Wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there were more....there will be more....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-5968382499833524694?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/5968382499833524694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/06/one-of-these-lyrics-will-be-tattooed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/5968382499833524694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/5968382499833524694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/06/one-of-these-lyrics-will-be-tattooed.html' title='One of these lyrics will be tattooed somewhere on my person someday....'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-8569668260071970062</id><published>2009-06-04T00:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T00:29:15.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>conflicted.</title><content type='html'>I had a lot of dramatic things going through my head, but I can't get them down....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-8569668260071970062?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/8569668260071970062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/06/conflicted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8569668260071970062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8569668260071970062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/06/conflicted.html' title='conflicted.'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6889002663468940231</id><published>2009-04-06T22:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T22:21:24.603-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FML'/><title type='text'>hahahahahaha</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I don't look up FML or anything, but my friend Tiny sent this to me and it made me laugh really hard:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went on a date with a guy for the first time. We went to Starbucks and got coffee. We talked for awhile, and we weere joking and having a good time. Suddenly, he put his hand on my stomach and said, "soon, this will be plump with my seed." FML&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-6889002663468940231?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6889002663468940231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/04/hahahahahaha.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6889002663468940231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6889002663468940231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/04/hahahahahaha.html' title='hahahahahaha'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6120143246838333981</id><published>2009-04-03T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T01:43:47.843-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disappointing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='changes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why do people keep disappointing me? Hate to be seem stereotypical and emo, but it especially seems to be guys. Everything just goes along swimmingly, but all of a sudden things change...and nothing happened? And then the people begin to act differently towards me.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew what was making this occur, but since I don't know what happened....I don't know how to evaluate or change this.&lt;br /&gt;It's unfortunate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-6120143246838333981?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6120143246838333981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-do-people-keep-disappointing-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6120143246838333981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6120143246838333981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-do-people-keep-disappointing-me.html' title=''/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-8190609726839564957</id><published>2009-03-26T01:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T01:34:30.595-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='regrets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mistakes'/><title type='text'>Mistakes and Regrets</title><content type='html'>Sometimes mistakes just have a way of hanging around and making things more difficult. I guess all we can hope for is that they don't end up ruining everything....and do our best to soldier through when things look like tough going...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-8190609726839564957?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/8190609726839564957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistakes-and-regrets.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8190609726839564957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8190609726839564957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistakes-and-regrets.html' title='Mistakes and Regrets'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-4827272118244694940</id><published>2009-03-11T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T21:34:08.308-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Going along...</title><content type='html'>It's kind of weird...how we all just go along and live our lives, and sometimes we run into new people and we all have our effects on each other.  I wonder how my life has been changed by these casual encounters, and how I've changed others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-4827272118244694940?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/4827272118244694940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/going-along.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4827272118244694940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4827272118244694940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/going-along.html' title='Going along...'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-7352505836143840736</id><published>2009-03-07T13:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T03:10:24.650-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>Dream...</title><content type='html'>Had quite the dream last night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Started out in some sort of barracks or something, where I lived next to this man I was interested in. And there were these evil beings that took you over...kind of like yeerks from Animorphs, you know? He came in one day and we started hanging out...and then I think it sort of jumped forward where we were hanging out at his sort of hotel room, and then I had to go to the bathroom. The room didn't have a bathroom in it, so I had to go to a sort of communal one. When I was coming out of it, there was some sort of man in a Jason (like, the freaky killer guy) mask that made me scream really hard, but then I started laughing because it was just some person dressed up.&lt;br /&gt;So I went back to the room and the guy was sitting there, so I went over and we talked or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;After a while, he want to go get food or something, and his ex or something comes barging in and says she wants to know where he is or she loves him and that he'd been missing for days, or something similar...and I was confused because he had been with me minutes ago. Then she shows me a paper where he had been missing for days...and then I remembered some random fact about Jason, that he can create illusions or covers (I doubt if that's a real fact, that is just what my dream said, haha).&lt;br /&gt;So this begins a grand trip to try to find him...we go all over this failing world - famine, disease, ect, by the evil guys. This part is a little fuzzy, but at some point we found my guy...who helped protect me from some evil dogs...and then he got taken away again? Or something. At some point, an older couple, a small child, and some sort of male doctor join us. We get back to the hotel room from the beginning and I have MAJOR de ja vus. We had already done this! Turns out we had done this entire story before, but he left a way for us to get to him. And he left a hint somewhere for us.....he wrote a date onto the cupboards in the room, which led to a filing cabinet...which led to ANOTHER envelope.&lt;br /&gt;I found the last clue, which held warm clothing and hats....this is when the older couple said they couldn't come with us, so we started crying and saying how much they had helped us (which I'm sure they did, I just can't remember it), while the rest of us got dressed to go save my guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that was when I woke up. haha. Is this some sort of movie?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-7352505836143840736?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/7352505836143840736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/7352505836143840736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/7352505836143840736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/03/dream.html' title='Dream...'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-8284636490198794777</id><published>2009-02-28T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T15:00:55.111-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So at 11:59 am, Saturday February 28, my godchild AM (or Baby B) was born. 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and 19 3/4 inches long, with brown hair! : )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-8284636490198794777?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/8284636490198794777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-at-1159-am-saturday-february-28-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8284636490198794777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8284636490198794777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-at-1159-am-saturday-february-28-my.html' title=''/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6305564640766781308</id><published>2009-02-28T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T19:19:52.506-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='labor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>Waiting for Baby B!</title><content type='html'>So H and I are in the waiting room, obviously waiting, for Baby B to venture out. Mom, Dad, and one of the aunts is in the room asleep now, trying to reserve strength for the big day coming up! They induced her a couple hours ago because her protein was low and her blood pressure was high, and originally things were supposed to start around 7 am, but she started having contractions pretty quickly, so they think the process might be a little speedier for her. Seems like mom and Baby B are going along fairly well, though.&lt;br /&gt;So soon I'll be a godmom! : )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-6305564640766781308?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6305564640766781308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/waiting-for-bella.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6305564640766781308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6305564640766781308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/waiting-for-bella.html' title='Waiting for Baby B!'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-8218281323690157851</id><published>2009-02-27T03:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T03:40:57.894-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><title type='text'>My favorite color...</title><content type='html'>ORANGE – Orange is associated with vibrancy and the tropics, as well as warmth and contentment. It can instill a sense of fun and excitement. It implies health. It suggests pleasure, cheer, endurance, generosity and ambition. It can make an expensive product seem more affordable. It appeals to a wide range of people, both male and female.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-8218281323690157851?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/8218281323690157851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-favorite-color.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8218281323690157851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/8218281323690157851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-favorite-color.html' title='My favorite color...'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-1683266523615554872</id><published>2009-02-22T03:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T03:33:47.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You are goodbye....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Another one down the drain, to bury itself in the muck. A blinded pilot, stuck in a veil of fog, on a crash course of love. A memory of another time, but it's stuck in the hole of yesterday. I watched you walk away as I walked away myself, and I said goodbye to hope. A third opportunity to give yourself away, but another chance to run. A sleepless night, a dreamless sleep, an empty hand...another chance to grieve.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-1683266523615554872?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/1683266523615554872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-are-goodbye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1683266523615554872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1683266523615554872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-are-goodbye.html' title='You are goodbye....'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-2907306708058950943</id><published>2009-02-17T15:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T15:59:04.155-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='married'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engaged'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnant'/><title type='text'>I'm getting really irritated...</title><content type='html'>Friends Recently Married&lt;br /&gt;- D &amp;amp; E&lt;br /&gt;- K &amp;amp; J&lt;br /&gt;- another J &amp;amp; K&lt;br /&gt;- C &amp;amp; C&lt;br /&gt;- W &amp;amp; J&lt;br /&gt;- S &amp;amp; N&lt;br /&gt;- E &amp;amp; D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends Recently Engaged&lt;br /&gt;- W &amp;amp; M&lt;br /&gt;- T &amp;amp; M&lt;br /&gt;- A &amp;amp; J&lt;br /&gt;- A &amp;amp; B&lt;br /&gt;- another B &amp;amp; A&lt;br /&gt;- L &amp;amp; J&lt;br /&gt;- K &amp;amp; A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pregnant or New Babies of Friends&lt;br /&gt;- A &amp;amp; B = B&lt;br /&gt;- another B &amp;amp; A = B&lt;br /&gt;- D &amp;amp; E = G&lt;br /&gt;- C &amp;amp; C = R&lt;br /&gt;- K + ? = ?&lt;br /&gt;- K + J = ?&lt;br /&gt;- B &amp;amp; C = Z&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!? HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY?!?!?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-2907306708058950943?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/2907306708058950943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-getting-really-tired-of-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/2907306708058950943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/2907306708058950943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-getting-really-tired-of-this.html' title='I&apos;m getting really irritated...'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-7430034010741830329</id><published>2009-02-09T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T19:38:23.803-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sadness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>A letter to everyone, but mostly to me...</title><content type='html'>An extremely long rant for you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm young, but.....&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it feels so hopeless trying to cope with life everyday. There are so many struggles to overcome, so many interactions to consider, and so many expectations placed upon it. We have to engage in multiple routines and demands from the people we come across. School, work, family, friends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally, I am pretty complacent when it comes to what school asks of me - it is giving me an education, and in return I am expected to put forth my effort to contribute. But how can I think about homework and assignments when I can't focus because my head is mush and my eyes are wet? I can't even begin to try to read a chapter because my heart is broken. I just want to lay in bed, curled up in a ball and asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it about my regrets that make me realize who I am and what I truly want? Things I thought I was okay doing become horrible incidents that I can't fully recount to anybody because I feel so horrible about it. How did I convince myself that something is okay to do when it is clearly not? All situations are different, but I have found myself in my current position before, promising myself it won't happen again. I don't want to sound pathetic, but I am here again, tears streaming down my face, questioning myself and who I am, and wondering what prevents men from truly seeing what my friends say they see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't as if my whole life is about finding a man, because it isn't. I love my family, my friends, my pets. I like to talk with people and learn new things, and sing along to my music. I like to read and watch movies and laugh and make friends. But we're genetically programmed, on an organic level, to find a compatible mate that can help them feel more like they are supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like any human I am not perfect, but I could be so much worse. If we were to make a list of my faults and my benefits, I could imagine that the list would be pretty favorable, as far as general humanity and the dating world goes. I would make him feel so loved, and would do everything in my power to make him happy. But I guess this isn't something is visible at first glance, nor is it maybe readily obvious. Instead, perhaps people I don't know very well, don't see what makes me good or likeable, and see only my faults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it that people think when they see me or talk to me for the first time? How about an acquaintance that I don't know very well? Is it that they think I'm quiet and rude, dumb and unattractive? Do they know me to enough of a degree to make a truly applicable opinion about my person? Maybe I really am all of those adjectives, and my friends just see me differently - making those personality faults into loveable traits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This feels so innappropriate - trying to bare my heart on a public blog, giving people the opportunity to read into my every insecurity and unanswered question, and maybe offering people the impression that I'm an unsecured basketcase that cries about every little situation that I come across. I don't want to look like a weakling that can't take care of herself. because I can... just would like someone to catch me if I trip up, someone to lean on if maybe one day it is a bit too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to discount my friends because they have been more than anything I could ever hope to ask for. They were there through my lowest and highest moments; crying with me when I cut myself, giggling with me about a boy, holding me through losses, and there to act like a fool with me while doing one ridiculous thing after the next. But in a way I can't really explain, there is a special person ready to enter into this circle of my friends I've made and become my best friend in a different way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone that knows me in a different way than anybody else, and that will love me regardless. That person will maybe have to give me more chances to make mistakes and will be patient, they will understand my personality quirks, including the ones I can't explain. He'll fall in love with my flaws and my talents, my freckles and tattoos. He won't manipulate me and he'll give me time to figure out what is right, and how we work. When we argue he'll give me a chance to say how I feel without completely discounting my opinion, or feeling as if he is always right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm not the only one to feel unhappy or to feel this way. But because it is me that is feeling it, I am forced to feel as if it is this unexplainable raw burn that flares and then simmers in my heart, never extinguishing and always present, burning a hole that gets bigger every day and leaves singed edges that are ultra sensitive to any touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I ever truly tell you how much I feel, how much I care? I want to be able to see the world for how beautiful it truly is, and I want to give something more it. I don't want to be another bitter lonely human, adding to the broken rhythym of our existence that should be smooth and whole and clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be seen inside the crashing blue ocean, the striking jagged edges of glaciers, the lush long grasses in never ending fields, and the burning intensity of the sun. I want to be remembered in eyes full of passion, in rich colors that make you feel warm, in the dimples that make a smile real, in hugs that make you feel loved. In every person I want to be able to see the hope of a child, and the talent of an artist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to find me in random crannies of your life, reminding you of times we shared when we laughed or cried or learned. I promise I will think of you when I am washing the dishes or walking to class or sitting at work.There are so many things I wish I could say to everybody if I could. I wish I could tell you how I really felt or what really happened. I wish we had a better relationship so things wouldn't be so awkward. Or most of all, I wish that we still talked like we used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have." -Hermione, "Harry Potter &amp;amp; The Order of the Phoenix"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you." - Valerie, "V for Vendetta"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-7430034010741830329?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/7430034010741830329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/humans-are-so-complex-full-of-emotions.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/7430034010741830329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/7430034010741830329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/humans-are-so-complex-full-of-emotions.html' title='A letter to everyone, but mostly to me...'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-1635477501847062115</id><published>2009-02-08T21:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T21:36:26.052-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>An unfortunate blog to read....</title><content type='html'>I am going to whine.&lt;br /&gt;I am so sick. My nose is runny, my throat is raw. My joints are swollen and my bones are sore. My head is foggy and my eyes are blurry. I cough and hack, but I never feel clear.&lt;br /&gt;I can't sleep, and all I want to do is lay down and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm so behind and there is so much I need to do. I have to get better soon, because if I don't....I am going to have real issues.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I am feeling so unsure about my life right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-1635477501847062115?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/1635477501847062115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/unfortunate-blog-to-read.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1635477501847062115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1635477501847062115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/unfortunate-blog-to-read.html' title='An unfortunate blog to read....'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-2229843564555314942</id><published>2009-02-04T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T16:44:05.122-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>Wahhhh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYo2E-tKhTI/AAAAAAAAABM/W_feVkEYTqI/s1600-h/trixie+9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299107370734617906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYo2E-tKhTI/AAAAAAAAABM/W_feVkEYTqI/s200/trixie+9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is Trixie's 10th birthday!&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&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYo2E-tKhTI/AAAAAAAAABM/W_feVkEYTqI/s1600-h/trixie+9.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But other than that, I am very sick. My throat is extremely sore and it is making it hard to breathe, and when I talk I sound like a depressed 30 year old smoking man. Plus, I could sleep last night because my back has decided that it is going to hurt no matter the position I lay in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning I woke up at nine and let Trixie out and then went back to sleep. A couple hours later I woke up and Trixie was barking and I tried to yell at her to stop, but no sound came out. So I had to get up and let her back in. I skipped my first two classes because when I tried to get ready, my head started spinning. But I had to go to choir because it is attendance based, so I got there and was happily doing my crossword when the teacher came and told me I couldn't do it anymore. After class, my friend E and I went to Starbucks and I got a ginormous Chai tea, which helped my throat some, but it is not really much better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am about to take a shower until I have prunes for fingers to see if the steam and heat helps some. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/3809316306418966278-2229843564555314942?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/2229843564555314942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/wahhhh.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/2229843564555314942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/2229843564555314942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/wahhhh.html' title='Wahhhh!'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYo2E-tKhTI/AAAAAAAAABM/W_feVkEYTqI/s72-c/trixie+9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-6303883991713632128</id><published>2009-02-03T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T12:05:59.736-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><title type='text'>Mad, Hot Ballroom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.pleasedancewithme.com/ClipArtMadHotBallroomHome.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 755px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 590px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.pleasedancewithme.com/ClipArtMadHotBallroomHome.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pleasedancewithme.com/ClipArtMadHotBallroomHome.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am watching "Mad, Hot Ballroom" which is a documentary about two classes of 5th graders in New York public schools learning ballroom dances. It is really rather adorable. A lot of the girls are taller than the boys, but when they are dancing and being forced to look into each others' eyes it is so sweet. One boy was asked what the color of his partner's eyes were without looking, and he said "greenish blue", which was the right answer. It was extremely cute. There is a tiny little boy with curly hair that is always blinking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love it. &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/3809316306418966278-6303883991713632128?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/6303883991713632128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/mad-hot-ballroom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6303883991713632128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/6303883991713632128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/mad-hot-ballroom.html' title='Mad, Hot Ballroom'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-1259203383165566321</id><published>2009-02-02T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T14:24:56.731-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intro'/><title type='text'>Sitting in Kimbrough....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdysdyLhII/AAAAAAAAAAo/tyBGz8B7zX8/s1600-h/Feb+2,+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298329594859586690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdysdyLhII/AAAAAAAAAAo/tyBGz8B7zX8/s200/Feb+2,+2009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdu2z5mTkI/AAAAAAAAAAg/H97SNqQpquA/s1600-h/Feb+2,+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdeIBw1KvI/AAAAAAAAAAY/0nhUozh4LXc/s1600-h/Feb+2,+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYddD-JJ7NI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/YICTeqHE23U/s1600-h/Feb+2,+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi y'all! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My name is Emily, I am the youngest of three, 20 years old and am halfway through my third year at WSU. I like to read, write, and sing. I love All Stars, flats, and horizontally striped shirts, the show Scrubs and Heroes, stupid movies, and the color orange. I love book series that make themselves in epics, especially when they creat their own worlds (Harry Potter, A Great and Terrible Beauty/Rebel Angels/The Sweet Far Thing, LOtR, Twilight, Georgia Nicolson, Series of Unfortunate Events). I love musicals, hip hop/rap, dance music, shitty pop music, classic rock, and accoustic guitar. I love to dance like a dork, but only do it mostly in the car. During school vacations I work at a vet clinic as a vet tech and receptionist, which can be trying but overall I enjoy a lot. I take lots of pictures of myself, though a lot get deleted or never shown to anybody. My hair turns red in the sun and is brown during the winter. Year round, I am covered in freckles, which I get from my dad. I love to scrapbook and cross-stitch, but I have to be in the right mood to do either. of them I don't like to be bossed around, nagged, or told what to do, even more so than the average person. I fall in love daily.&lt;/div&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/3809316306418966278-1259203383165566321?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/1259203383165566321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/sitting-in-kimbrough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1259203383165566321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/1259203383165566321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/sitting-in-kimbrough.html' title='Sitting in Kimbrough....'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdysdyLhII/AAAAAAAAAAo/tyBGz8B7zX8/s72-c/Feb+2,+2009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809316306418966278.post-4081245381911385415</id><published>2009-02-01T23:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T23:37:52.028-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intro'/><title type='text'>Hello to the Blogosphere!</title><content type='html'>After D and I spent four hours trying to make any layouts work...and I finally ended up using one from the site, with a few tweaks. Not that everything is set up right, but hopefully it will be soon.&lt;br /&gt;I will do a better blog tomorrow, and hope that I will soon have something interesting to talk about! But for now, it is late and I must get ready for school tomorrow. : (&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3809316306418966278-4081245381911385415?l=bobmi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/feeds/4081245381911385415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/hello-to-blogosphere.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4081245381911385415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3809316306418966278/posts/default/4081245381911385415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bobmi.blogspot.com/2009/02/hello-to-blogosphere.html' title='Hello to the Blogosphere!'/><author><name>bobmi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06873412038974501875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEEyw4PkBG4/SYdzOdz-sSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KDcitP6qJSE/S220/0124091211a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
