<?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-8843310261150140965</id><updated>2011-09-02T09:07:17.515-07:00</updated><category term='Pissy'/><category term='fuckers.'/><category term='sad songs'/><category term='crap'/><category term='Boring-Town.'/><category term='Good Songs'/><category term='Drunk Hot Chicks w/ Boyfriends.'/><category term='my gay self.'/><title type='text'>Sarah's Blog</title><subtitle type='html'>Remember Those Days?..</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-7249234760408391427</id><published>2011-09-02T09:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T09:07:17.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm holding on your rope, &lt;br /&gt;Got me ten feet off the ground&lt;br /&gt;I'm hearin what you say but I just can't make a sound&lt;br /&gt;You tell me that you need me &lt;br /&gt;Then you go and cut me down, but wait&lt;br /&gt;You tell me that you're sorry&lt;br /&gt;Didn't think I'd turn around, and say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd take another chance, take a fall &lt;br /&gt;Take a shot for you&lt;br /&gt;And I need you like a heart needs a beat &lt;br /&gt;But it's nothin new&lt;br /&gt;I loved you with a fire red-&lt;br /&gt;Now it's turning blue, and you say...&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you&lt;br /&gt;But I'm afraid...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late&lt;br /&gt;It's too late to apologize, yeah&lt;br /&gt;I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-&lt;br /&gt;I'm holdin on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-7249234760408391427?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/7249234760408391427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=7249234760408391427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7249234760408391427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7249234760408391427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2011/09/im-holding-on-your-rope-got-me-ten-feet.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-4255676784202614481</id><published>2011-03-06T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T19:34:30.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yeah! I have a blog! Damn, I forgot..</title><content type='html'>wow I totally &lt;strong&gt;just&lt;/strong&gt; came across this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I'll update this thing even though nobody reads it...something to pass the time :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too much is different. I work loads, deal with my parents persistent bitching and get out of Nova Scotia as often as I can. &lt;strong&gt;AKA:&lt;/strong&gt; once a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I brought up that I want to go to europe again, well, lets just say that didnt go over very well. I was told I wouldnt have a place to live when i came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Im not going just for the hell of it. Im going to see my girlfriend of 2 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was then told that I shouldn't waste my time trying for someone who isnt going to be with me forever... &lt;strong&gt;Says my mother. how does she know this!? is she a fucking psychic!?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;It's a pain in the ass to have stupid people in my life but, ehh, I love them and they are my parents so I have to deal. Even though they try to act like they know everything about my life when they dont even ask so how could they!&lt;br /&gt;I figure it's my money so why the fuck can't I go!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive been saving up for school too so I really dont see why there is an issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday, I hope to have non-bitchy parents breathing down my neck every secound of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know they want whats best but I don't think they even know what is actually best for me. It's something I need to do. Shannon and I promised when we saw eachother next everything would be sorted out during that time..and now it feels like I'll never see her in person again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, that's all for now. I'm going to be coming back and updating again. promise! ; )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-4255676784202614481?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/4255676784202614481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=4255676784202614481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4255676784202614481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4255676784202614481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2011/03/oh-yeah-i-have-blog-damn-i-forgot.html' title='Oh yeah! I have a blog! Damn, I forgot..'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5354669096602637845</id><published>2009-11-05T10:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T10:54:29.139-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HELLO!</title><content type='html'>WOW, I havent updated this thing in aaages. Just dropped by to say hello. There will be an actual update about everything thats been going on shortly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5354669096602637845?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5354669096602637845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5354669096602637845' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5354669096602637845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5354669096602637845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/11/hello.html' title='HELLO!'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-1600573555167570239</id><published>2009-04-20T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T09:34:38.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:O</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYV1aBDH7cA&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYV1aBDH7cA&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-1600573555167570239?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/1600573555167570239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=1600573555167570239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1600573555167570239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1600573555167570239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/04/o.html' title=':O'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-1505635393341216446</id><published>2009-04-05T13:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T11:36:24.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time we talk, I feel like she is the only one who really knows. Knows me. Knows how I really am. She doesn't judge, she doesnt criticize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just fit. Shes knows I'll love her no matter what. I know she'll love me regardless aswell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's always mentioning how much she misses me, and how bad she wants everything back to how it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if its not torture enough that we're so far away from one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was the one who had my heart since the beginning. I guess I was just too dense to realize it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I screwed it up so bad, yet she's there. Still. Seemingly,Waiting for me. But I don't want her to wait..She could find someone. What is she waiting for?Even if its not me, what is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting for her. I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In some ways it makes sense why I've never really jumped into another relationship, even though I've had the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody will ever compare. I miss her so bad and I dont know how to tell her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had the guts I would call her and tell her how much she means to me. That now, I dont give a fuck about the age gap. I never cared. Everyone else cared.4 years and some odd months.. Come on! thats nothing. If I can wait this long, I'll wait even longer. As long as it takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing compares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-1505635393341216446?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/1505635393341216446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=1505635393341216446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1505635393341216446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1505635393341216446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-miss-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-1571334638568407484</id><published>2009-04-01T02:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T03:28:36.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee + Sunrise = Perfect.</title><content type='html'>No sleep again last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;, I really need to fix my sleeping pattern.&lt;br /&gt;I tried,and tried,and tried some more. I literally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;layed&lt;/span&gt; there for hours. NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I suppose its nice to be up before 7.&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful sunrise, birds coming out to greet the new day, snow glistening with the first appearance of the days sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I can survive off of a little coffee boost for a bit, until I inevitably fall asleep on the couch later.&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that ruins that image of said above is our half-broken fence from all of the storms we've gotten this past winter. And our half dead tree that was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pulverized&lt;/span&gt; by the storms as well.&lt;br /&gt;I'm guessing that I'll be helping &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; with the renovations. The list is ever-growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is the absolute best time of year. No more snow, no more sad trees with no leaves to blow around, no more gross brown grass. Sadly, our spring hasn't quite come yet. It's pretty odd, usually by this time we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; get any more snow storms. I suppose that weather is always changing, its truly unpredictable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt Nanette called last night, with a friendly invite to her place and also bad news. My aunt Phyllis is in the hospital, and all I know so far is she is Anemic and she had to get a blood transfusion. She has lost over 40 pounds, and she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; a huge lady to start with. This weekend I plan on going to see her. My mother though, I'm not so sure will even bother. She's got this weird thing that she wont visit someone in the hospital. Last person she ever visited was my grandfather..about 5 years ago. I think part of it had to do with him losing his memory, and not remembering mom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; she went in to visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Word also got through my family that I am going through some tough times and that I quit my job. Wow, word travels fast in the family! ( my aunt Karen called last week and asked how I was.. I'm guessing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; how the grapevine started.)&lt;br /&gt;Even so, I'm glad that they are concerned. I told Nanette not to worry, that things are slowly coming together for me. Even though I felt like what I was saying was somewhat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;deceiving&lt;/span&gt;, I truly am trying my best. School is my No.1 concern right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-1571334638568407484?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/1571334638568407484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=1571334638568407484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1571334638568407484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1571334638568407484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/04/no-sleep-again-last-night.html' title='Coffee + Sunrise = Perfect.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6038958205886910821</id><published>2009-03-25T10:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T10:18:42.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Who am I kidding?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6038958205886910821?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6038958205886910821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6038958205886910821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6038958205886910821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6038958205886910821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-am-i-kidding.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6697617905823653928</id><published>2009-03-20T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T13:37:51.955-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/ScP9JRbmN5I/AAAAAAAAACU/PxPHBngpeZo/s1600-h/drunkchicks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315370320967120786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/ScP9JRbmN5I/AAAAAAAAACU/PxPHBngpeZo/s320/drunkchicks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/ScP8ey3bGPI/AAAAAAAAACM/N5DiL4fMme4/s1600-h/goodpic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315369591207827698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/ScP8ey3bGPI/AAAAAAAAACM/N5DiL4fMme4/s320/goodpic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Everyone seemed so happy. Everything seemed so right.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need more days like these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where friends are around every corner,&lt;br /&gt;and nobody gives a shit about anything but the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Just a week later today, I feel completely different. I feel so blah. Life is so weird. One day you can feel invincible, and the next&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;invisible&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8843310261150140965-6697617905823653928?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6697617905823653928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6697617905823653928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6697617905823653928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6697617905823653928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/03/everyone-seemed-so-happy.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/ScP9JRbmN5I/AAAAAAAAACU/PxPHBngpeZo/s72-c/drunkchicks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-3736497612196827971</id><published>2009-03-14T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T12:39:32.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Dream #2.</title><content type='html'>Last night, I had probably one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; of my friends. They would show up at random times throughout the dream&lt;br /&gt;the only person that went through the whole dream with me was Alex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dream felt so real... mostly because in the dream it was pouring outside.&lt;br /&gt;It felt so amazing though, and me and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Alex&lt;/span&gt; were just doing what we were there to do in the first place..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The setting was in the desert. yet it was raining, and the rain was just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ridiculously&lt;/span&gt; heavy.&lt;br /&gt;you would think that we would run for cover, but no, everyone just kept on running through this course. ( It seemed like it was an unlimited amount of staircases, and for some reason we would sometimes jump onto the rails and slide down them.) some went down, some went up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we got to this point that the staircases stopped and there was a road, and a place to eat.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, there was lightning. or..something like lightning. The rain stopped instantly.There was thunder and lightning at the exact same time. I can still clearly picture it in my head..it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;unbelievable&lt;/span&gt;. it lasted for about 30 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;seconds&lt;/span&gt; and then ( this is the part i still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; understand) the lightning stopped, or whatever it was, and then about 10 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;UFOs&lt;/span&gt; came out of nowhere. A hologram of some of the people inside of them showed up in the sky.. the colours that showed up were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;unbelievable&lt;/span&gt;.Blue's, Pink's..almost as if a rainbow, that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; formed, showed up out of nowhere.There was a group of a good 50 people, all looking up watching. It was night time. A human face showed up.I only heard "do not be afraid, we have come to.." and then I blacked out. Last thing I remember is Kate ( friend from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;high school&lt;/span&gt;) catch me before I fell. I woke up with her holding my hand, and everyone just went along doing the same thing we were doing before that happened. The staircases. Only It was day time again. Eventually Alex and I got through all of these staircases, and instead of doing that, we were trying to get over booby-trapped planks of wood, big hills of mud, several random things that made it hard to get across. There were litters of kittens and puppies at random places.. after this point I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; really remember much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much of this dream I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; understand. It switches from one thing to another. Why are my family and friends all going through the desert, through a course? why did it switch from day to night? why was there pouring rain, then no rain at all, then a crazy lighting looking bolt in the sky, and then "alien" contact? why did I pass out, and then we were back doing the course again? kittens and puppies? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-3736497612196827971?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/3736497612196827971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=3736497612196827971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3736497612196827971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3736497612196827971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/03/weird-dream-2.html' title='Weird Dream #2.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6590841783507881910</id><published>2009-03-06T10:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T11:19:09.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have decided that my dreams should be blogged about, since my dreams are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pretty much&lt;/span&gt; the most interesting thing of my day. All dreams have some meaning behind them, but the only problem is i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; no clue how to analyze them. So I'll just write them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several things happened in the dreams I had last night.&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I think the reason why my dreams were so random is because of the videos I watched last night. I'm actually trying to learn how to meditate now, and the videos teach you, but the person talking also goes into several other subjects, and in depth. Almost enough to scare a person, but i listened to all 18 parts and it honestly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; scare me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7l0cJL7e4w"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7l0cJL7e4w&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, if you do have an interest in this, which i believe everyone should, &lt;strong&gt;David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wilcock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; has some great stuff on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;YouTube&lt;/span&gt;. You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have to believe everything you hear, but give it a chance.&lt;br /&gt;12 is supposedly a very important number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, i had a really hard time getting to sleep. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; get to sleep until about 5. So when I woke up at 12:12, I was a little bit freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to understand why I watched these videos, you would have to understand my friends' father. He has opened up my eyes, In a sense, to the world around us.&lt;br /&gt;I have always considered myself spiritual, but have never figured out how to meditate. Supposedly dreams are a form of this, and now looking back at the dreams I had, It makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first dream I had, I was in the woods. I feel like this was the setting because nature is actually the best place for meditation. Your better off sitting next to a tree and meditating than you are sitting on your bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; quite remember who was with me, but I know there were two people. One Male, one Female. We ran for quite a while, but after this I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; remember much. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; trying to think of what happened and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; just drawing a blank. The dream completely changed into a more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;familiar&lt;/span&gt; scene. I was with every single person I was friends with in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;High school&lt;/span&gt;. They each had different sweaters on for different Colleges and Universities, but whoever &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; make it to college yet just had normal clothes on. We were in what seemed to be a waiting room. But what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; make sense about this was all of my friends went to different schools. Why were we in one singular waiting room for different schools? my guess is that it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; a waiting room for School. It was a waiting room for something entirely different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking the reason why my dreams went from one thing to another is because of the Male and Female that were in the woods with me. Possibly, I was put into another state of mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; all I have for now. When another dream occurs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; be right back here blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6590841783507881910?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6590841783507881910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6590841783507881910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6590841783507881910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6590841783507881910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-have-decided-that-my-dreams-should-be.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-2278451744836978315</id><published>2009-03-04T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T07:31:40.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Crazy? Wait..Dont Answer That.</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was eating a bagel..in bed. that may not seem so strange but for me, it felt so real, that when I woke up I was actually wondering if I really did that.&lt;br /&gt;I hate this kind, the kind of dream that feels like reality. 100%!&lt;br /&gt;this wasnt the only dream i had. I had the same dream that I've been having for close to two years now. In this dream, I can't screw up. If I screw up, I end up back at the beginning. Its like a huge maze..its so confusing!&lt;br /&gt;Eventually I get to the end, and at the end I have to use a ladder to get out of a tiny window.&lt;br /&gt;This time in the dream, I was carrying around a laptop..but it wasnt a normal one. It was state of the art, really cool and rigged up with the best technology.&lt;br /&gt;3 men came into the same room I was trying to get out of, and they were after me for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;I ditched the laptop and left it behind, then woke up....&lt;br /&gt;Im wondering whats going to happen next with this dream? maybe I'll never have it again. Or maybe I have to start all over again. last time I had this dream was probably around two months ago, so its not like its an every night thing. But when I do have it, I know exactly where I am, and know exactly what i have to do.. yet ive never in my life actually been at this place.I have to get through the little window with everything I brought with me.&lt;br /&gt;This dream really makes no sense to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-2278451744836978315?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/2278451744836978315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=2278451744836978315' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2278451744836978315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2278451744836978315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-was.html' title='Am I Crazy? Wait..Dont Answer That.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-1529969774865678458</id><published>2009-01-30T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T12:17:57.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I call this one "The Return".</title><content type='html'>This week has been a long and frustrating one. Ive tried seeing what it is that is making me so isolated from what im normally like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find burying myself in books has been helping lately. My ordinary ways of working, coming home,sleeping, all to do it over again, has changed. I know it will only be for a short time, but its made me realize that im not completely gone. Im still the same peppy girl, with a world of thoughts, sometimes that I become lost in.&lt;br /&gt;This mind would be a waste if i didnt travel. If i didnt get on that plane, and the first time in my life, alone, and see something that nobody else in my bloodline has seen.It would also be a waste if I revolved my whole life around work. Sometimes its okay to plurge into the life of a dreamer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has crossed my mind that maybe, If I decided to stick with it, I could be an author. I never really considered it before, but with my mind always running wild, maybe its the best thing i can do with myself? I know I have an undieing love for music, but I dont think it stops there. I think I have a love for art, as a whole. for writing, for singing, for musical instruments, for painting. Im just one of those types of people who loves to get lost into creating art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where my hostility towards this idea comes into play: Why do i keep changing my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to do one thing, I want to do another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish the world didnt revolve around one straight career for every person. In some ways, I like hearing about the Old World. Things were much more simple, mind you I dont much agree with how some things were handled. I think plenty of people can agree to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have learned from our mistakes, but whos to say that we are doing it right, now?&lt;br /&gt;Imagine all of the people who become a burden to themselves because they are lost in their jobs. All that becomes important is that paycheck. Your life becomes dull, each day rolls into the other, and you find yourself weary of your life.&lt;br /&gt;Some are lucky enough to say that they love their job.&lt;br /&gt;Most are struck with the thoughs, day and day again, that they want something more than the life that they are living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life becomes dull, when its the same thing over and over. I consider myself one of these people. I need adventure, I need to be on the tips of my toes, I need the adrenaline rush. Why?&lt;br /&gt;I could ask whoever reads this the same thing. Why do you do what you do? Whatever makes you happy, whatever makes your heart beat. Why do you do it? Is it to feel complete?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For most people, it is. Thats why you hear of people you've never heard of before, With a New York Times bestseller. Thats why everyone has heard of Loenardo da Vinci. Indulging in something they truly love, something they truly appreciate. No matter what it is that someone has told them, judged them about, the artists seem to be like a needle in a haysack.. so hard to find, yet so amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an Artist, And the World is my canvas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-1529969774865678458?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/1529969774865678458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=1529969774865678458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1529969774865678458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1529969774865678458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-call-this-one-return.html' title='I call this one &quot;The Return&quot;.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-1978827318155414922</id><published>2009-01-23T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:57:58.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Asking.</title><content type='html'>I am now an Unemployed 21 yr. old, looking for an education and a part time job.&lt;br /&gt;My Colitis flared up, again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the worst possible time, while im trying to get everything together. I wish i was 100% healthy, but dont we all? I wish i could make it go away so i dont have to worry about it, so its not a burden on my life and so that I dont have to worry about flare-ups all of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I could be that person stuck in a hospital bed for the rest of my life, dieing of some kind of cancer, wishing their life away, with no possible way for their dreams to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My list is growing longer and longer each day, with some things I shouldve accomplished a couple years ago, but didnt. I wish that depression didnt exhist, that sickness and death was impossible. To find that one person, who would give me space but at the same time love me unconditionally. If I were to enter a relationship in the next few years, im sure I would ruin it all. I dont want to be this way, but its me. I get so lonely, and all i can do is think about it. Running what happened through my head, again and again. But this was the way we were built, we are all flawed in some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drugs, Alcohol, Suicide.&lt;br /&gt;Ways out.&lt;br /&gt;and now that I dont do those things, my thoughts drive me crazy. I want to be a level-headed person. With no worries, with their future set up, all from a wealthy family.&lt;br /&gt;My family is not wealthy. Far from it..&lt;br /&gt;Im doing this all by myself now. My money, My blood, tears, and sweat.&lt;br /&gt;Work for a minimum wage job, and a horrible manager, and all they can really do is manage their smoke breaks. you'd want a way out, too, right? So i took it, on my Birthday. I passed my notice in, the day i turned 21.&lt;br /&gt; Yesterday all that my manager could manage was a glance at me, at the end of the day, and a pitiful "bye."&lt;br /&gt;No kind words, no good luck or we'll miss you.&lt;br /&gt;bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think way too much into things. Always wondering if im the only person who does it.&lt;br /&gt;Afraid of my parents seeing me as a failure. I already know i feel like it. I feel that my brother sees me as a failure.&lt;br /&gt;I dont get out enough, im a homebody lately, and its starting to take its toll.&lt;br /&gt;I hate this, this me, whoever i am. Whatever I've become.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously ive done something wrong...i can think of plenty of things ive done wrong. When i try to be as nice as possible, it comes back and kicks me in the ass. My father tells me that im silent too much. That he misses Sarah. It tears me apart inside. Mom eats alot now. And they both drink on any day off...to the point that i hate to be around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im tired. Too tired to want to go on. I need to be happy, but im not. Not one bit.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know anyone as lonely as myself. But then again, nobody talks to me about the personal things,like they used to. My best friend barely talks to me.. I dont see any girls looking my way.&lt;br /&gt;Whats the sense of all of this? my life feels like a living hell, and as hard as I try to see peoples lives that are worse than mine, i cant help but feel pitiful. &lt;strong&gt;Nobody wants to help, and I really think that this time, I need it. I do. Call me selfish, but I really cant think of any other way out of all of these problems. help is all I ask for. Is that too much to ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-1978827318155414922?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/1978827318155414922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=1978827318155414922' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1978827318155414922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/1978827318155414922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/01/asking.html' title='Asking.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-9190815216622862114</id><published>2009-01-05T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T14:28:48.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 8th, 1988.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SWKHvbCZ-ZI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TUoLX3yG4L8/s1600-h/gooddays.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287938161267833234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SWKHvbCZ-ZI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TUoLX3yG4L8/s320/gooddays.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 Days..&lt;br /&gt;wow.&lt;br /&gt;In three days, I am considered a full grown-up.21. or, in Canada anyways.&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, im still a proud owner of the "young-adult" label.&lt;br /&gt;how many years until your not a "young adult"? how many years do i have left for that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Im growing tired of people expecting more and more from me, because it just puts pressure on me to want to change who I really am.&lt;br /&gt;I realize lately that im a pessimist. Every conversation im included in either includes some kind of apocalypse or depression or how much my friends hate their jobs.&lt;br /&gt;DONT TALK ABOUT YOUR JOBS, IT IS DEPRESSING. Unless you like it, then go ahead.&lt;br /&gt;Im tired of hearing "waah waah waah" yet i've turned into that somewhat.&lt;br /&gt;Thats why i've distanced myself from those friends. im sick of drama, of depressing conversations, of fighting, of bitching and moaning.. you only live once. supposedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im ready to be more of an Optomist. But I dont know when that will actually make things better.&lt;br /&gt;I remember being Optomistic. For example the picture. The last time I remember truly being complete, whole, loved. And loved myself. Plus I had the guts to get up in front of the entire graduating class and SING. Thats what music is to me. Its more important than most things i know. It's an art form and a freedom. From everything else in this world, It gives me an inner peace. Every single time I pick up my guitar, play the keyboard or sing, I feel almost complete.&lt;br /&gt;almost.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to me? hm.&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/8843310261150140965-9190815216622862114?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/9190815216622862114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=9190815216622862114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/9190815216622862114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/9190815216622862114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2009/01/january-8th-1988.html' title='January 8th, 1988.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SWKHvbCZ-ZI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TUoLX3yG4L8/s72-c/gooddays.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-7318366794244292477</id><published>2008-12-27T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T14:28:39.965-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Floating on a prayer&lt;br /&gt;wondering whats to come&lt;br /&gt;being here and being alone.&lt;br /&gt;day after day,&lt;br /&gt;my life works this way&lt;br /&gt;prayers are empty, with no belief&lt;br /&gt;no believing&lt;br /&gt;just being&lt;br /&gt;being me&lt;br /&gt;being you&lt;br /&gt;another day.&lt;br /&gt;assuming always&lt;br /&gt;with my heart wide open&lt;br /&gt;waiting.&lt;br /&gt;wondering,&lt;br /&gt;whats to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-7318366794244292477?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/7318366794244292477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=7318366794244292477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7318366794244292477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7318366794244292477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/12/floating-on-prayer-wondering-whats-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5130695913108490638</id><published>2008-12-20T07:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T08:23:49.999-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pissy'/><title type='text'>Everyone For Themselves.</title><content type='html'>If i had a reason for writing this right now, I would tell you.&lt;br /&gt;I dont have one. Its something to do i suppose.&lt;br /&gt;Is it a waste of time? probably. whats the difference of keeping the thoughts in your head and writing them down onto a website?&lt;br /&gt;Does it make the least bit of a difference?&lt;br /&gt;i guess if someone else wants to read it then they would. Thats the whole purpose, right?&lt;br /&gt;For other people to read your thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;But when they read your thoughts, do you think they really see things the way you see them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Probably not.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why am i ranting? i have no idea. Its the mood that im in right now. It could be the new album i just got thats making me seem dark. Or it may be that I have no running water at the moment. OR! it could be about my Brother whos currently stuck in toronto. He was supposed to be home last night.&lt;br /&gt;Air Canada totally fucked up. I hope he sues. He could!&lt;br /&gt;he had no direction to where he was supposed to go. I know exactly how that all goes, Im surprised that I got home on time from New Mexico!&lt;br /&gt;He's currently in a motel, as far as i know.&lt;br /&gt;It just goes to show you how important people really are to airlines.&lt;br /&gt;If their plane they were supposed to catch wouldve waited, then he would be here right now. 15 minutes! 15! it cant wait that long?! UGH.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5130695913108490638?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5130695913108490638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5130695913108490638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5130695913108490638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5130695913108490638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/12/everyone-for-themselves.html' title='Everyone For Themselves.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5814050008116109839</id><published>2008-12-18T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T10:31:21.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Curiosity didnt REALLY kill the cat, did it?</title><content type='html'>I happened to come across an article about Will Smith giving money to &lt;strong&gt;Scientology&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;one link led to another, and i was absolutely shocked at what I found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I checked the scientology website...nothing was really out of the ordinary, but I found that you could find only very limited information about the religion. It kept telling you to buy the books. That came as no surprise to me, seeing as they charge each of their members $250,000 dollars to "join."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Tom Cruise and Will Smith, and a few other famous actors can join, why not? right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a very bogus-sounding article, that at the same time made some sense. But to believe what its saying is a whole other topic. the article literally made my head spin with thoughts of "Is this actually for real?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole time I was reading it I was thinking: "someone actually wrote this down on paper? someones actually making people BELIEVE this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing that this is my blog, I think I have the freedom to write down my thoughts. If you dont agree with me, thats ok. reading what I post next may either make you laugh about it, or make you search up more about scientology...I assure you. there is NO site telling you exactly what you do. For some reason all of the sites only go so far. You would have to become a "member" to really know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heres the link for the messed up article i stumbled across:&lt;a href="http://www.larabell.org/ultimate.html"&gt;http://www.larabell.org/ultimate.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and for the article that seems real... im hoping it is. It seems like it was written from someone who was either in the cult or who had a friend who gave information about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://home.snafu.de/tilman/scwhat.txt"&gt;http://home.snafu.de/tilman/scwhat.txt&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from what i hear, the more liberal of this "cult"..who do not believe in harming others, have gotten away from the original religion and started up their own..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regardless...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why must humans run mindless things through their heads to feel more secure?&lt;br /&gt;is it to have a meaning? to have a more purposeful life?&lt;br /&gt;war exhists simply because that is human nature. who starts the wars is an entirely different story..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My belief is that we are here simply because we are.&lt;br /&gt;Just as dogs and cats and worms and snails, birds and the like..&lt;br /&gt;we're here.&lt;br /&gt;yet we are the only beings that have to follow religions to feel more worthy.&lt;br /&gt;are we advancing, or are we slowing ourselves down with these religions?&lt;br /&gt;have we strayed off of the path of true meaning?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we have. but we may never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess i should stick this in here somewhere : I dont have a Religion. I dont hate Religion, but i dont hold any desire to become a follower. While i have the chance, i'll also put in that i wouldnt want to be a leader of a new religion, or an old one.&lt;br /&gt; What i believe in is we got here somehow..that i dont know. But i dont believe that being on your knees, believing in something youve never seen before or come across, is doing anything spectacular for this world. Yes - we got here somehow. Yes - it &lt;strong&gt;is&lt;/strong&gt; a miracle how it happened. No- i dont believe that something is watching over me. Thats just the way my mind works, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I hope someone else searches up "what is scientology?" just like i did, and somehow come across my very- biased opinion, some would say. Yet at the same time, its freedom of speech. Its Human Rights.If anyone has anymore juicy gossip about this wretched topic dont hesitate to E-mail me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:sarahtbruce@hotmail.com"&gt;sarahtbruce@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;dont be afraid. an opinion is an opinion. everyone has one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5814050008116109839?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5814050008116109839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5814050008116109839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5814050008116109839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5814050008116109839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/12/curiosity-didnt-really-kill-cat-did-it.html' title='Curiosity didnt REALLY kill the cat, did it?'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6817099114183735295</id><published>2008-12-14T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T13:31:20.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time To Look Back.</title><content type='html'>This has been an interesting year. to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;I have travelled, I have lost some family, I have become a different person.&lt;br /&gt;I've made mistakes. Who doesnt?&lt;br /&gt;I have calmed down, significantly. Its as if the child in me has given up.&lt;br /&gt;I guess thats what happens when your life revolves around work. Believe it or not, if someone were to approach me that knew me in highschool, I wouldnt know what to say to them. So, hows life going? Well, im not sure.Stressful days at work, not knowing what to do with myself, with my life.So many aspirations, going to waste, because i dont know what to do with myself.Thanks for asking though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To sum up this year would be extremely hard.&lt;br /&gt;Ive seen the beautiful mountains and desert in New Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;I've been to the warm and beautiful Dominican Republic.&lt;br /&gt;I've met some of the most amazing people i will ever know in my life. and not met them, at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;I lost my Sister. Or what i would consider one, because im a pet lover.&lt;br /&gt;I lost my grandfather, who had it coming for a long time. All that we did was patiently wait.&lt;br /&gt;I sat at the corner of his bed, wondering what the man was actually like. what he had actually gone through, what the war was actually like. Maybe thats why he was so quiet at family gatherings. Maybe i got that from moms side of the family. Reserved. But so far away from shy.&lt;br /&gt; To some it may not make any sense. But its true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so many questions about life that its disturbing. Nobody can answer these questions. Does anyone else in the world think like me? feel like me? someone out there must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheltered. Thats what i was always told.&lt;br /&gt;well guess what? im not. if i was, i dont know when.&lt;br /&gt;Im more curious and adventurous than mostly anyone i know.&lt;br /&gt;yet scared to spread my wings.&lt;br /&gt;scared to fail.&lt;br /&gt;if i fail, i may fall.Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everytime i hear the song "Sober" by Pink, i think of myself last year. and some of this year.&lt;br /&gt;a mess. Calling for help.&lt;br /&gt;and none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only person that can really help you in this world is yourself.&lt;br /&gt;heres to getting my life completely on track. slowly, im getting there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6817099114183735295?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6817099114183735295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6817099114183735295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6817099114183735295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6817099114183735295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-to-look-back.html' title='Time To Look Back.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5875567434835652111</id><published>2008-11-09T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T08:14:43.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Change You Need.</title><content type='html'>Horrible.Dispicable.Disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The state of California, while being more liberal than other states, is not as liberal as i thought originally. It hurts to know that we, The Gays, are still very discriminated in the U.S. No, i do not live in the U.S. but it hurts me regardless. Arkansas has illegalized adoption for same-sex couples. I have no words to put in a correct sentence for all of this. It just blows my mind that because you are a woman that falls in love with a woman or a man that falls in love with a man, that you dont have the same rights that everyone else has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This needs to change. The world needs to stop being so discriminatory. Even my friends need to stop in some ways as well. Not all of them. but some are very narrow-minded people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just last night there was a discussion that I would rather not hear, but in another way it opened my eyes. This world in some ways is like hell on earth. If theirs even a hell to begin with. I opened my mouth during the discussion, openely telling a few "friends" that they were narrow-minded. Some people are alot different than what you percieve them as.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; To be honest, I dont know why i'm so into this whole election and the outcome of the gay community in the States. Maybe its because if I were an American I would be fighting this until the day I die.Also its because I have met many Americans personally. I would be going to rallies and maybe even riots if I was that much into it.&lt;br /&gt; I am an extremist of sorts. I know that this world will not be a better place unless we change the things that need to be changed. Religion has no actual grasp on us. We just believe to have something to believe in. of course! why not? thats the only way to feel safe in this world. believe in a god that might not even exhist. At the same time, i dont want to knock on religion.I know plenty of religious people that do not believe what the bible has written about us. But the reason why we are seen as lower than the straight Americans who go to church is because it was written in a book 70 years after Jesus Christ died.While not being absolutely direct about it, we are "sinful".This was like a big game of telephone, then someone decided to write all of these stories.If anyone read Mia's note on facebook, you'll know what im talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As generations grow older and people change, hopefully we will be changing this world for the better. We have already started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop the Racism.&lt;br /&gt;Stop the Sexism.&lt;br /&gt;Stop the Discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;Change the World.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5875567434835652111?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5875567434835652111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5875567434835652111' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5875567434835652111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5875567434835652111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/11/change-you-need.html' title='Change You Need.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-8393172006552303050</id><published>2008-11-04T06:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T06:32:08.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My shite day.</title><content type='html'>GO C! WRITE THAT BOOK! DO IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is very off. here are several reasons why i want to go crazy today.&lt;br /&gt;1) its cold.&lt;br /&gt;2) im sick. again.&lt;br /&gt;3) my boss wants me to truck across half of the city to get a doctors note when i should be home resting.&lt;br /&gt;4)i hate my phone.&lt;br /&gt;5) i have to go to the doctors at 5:45. great.&lt;br /&gt;6) the parentals have major issues with me being sick. last time i checked, its not my decision whether to be sick or not.&lt;br /&gt;last but not least:&lt;br /&gt;7) since ive been sick, i have been playing gta 4. again. but it makes me mad because IM STUCK! stupid video games.. lol.&lt;br /&gt;i think thats all of the reasons why im having a shitty day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-8393172006552303050?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/8393172006552303050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=8393172006552303050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/8393172006552303050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/8393172006552303050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-shite-day.html' title='My shite day.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-7113370524822828052</id><published>2008-10-18T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T08:06:15.649-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Close Your Eyes or We'll Fade.</title><content type='html'>This week has been pretty blah.&lt;br /&gt;but the good news is i dont feel sick! holyy i felt sick for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;colds and flu's everywhere! prettymuch everyone i know caught one or the other. knowing my luck i'll be sick in the next couple weeks. again. NO FUN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week was short but at the same time felt really long..&lt;br /&gt;all i wanted to do was sleep in today. and now that i did im happy =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wish i had some more to write but all this week consisted of was feeling shitty and work. and my crazy Supervisor.. im not going to get into that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll end this with McCain is an IDIOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The Americans have gotten to know Sarah Palin. They know she's a role model to women and reformers all over America."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;- McCain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We're going to take Joe's money, give it to Senator Obama and let him spread the wealth around."&lt;strong&gt;-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;McCain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with this man? and why am i so amused by how stupid he is? im Canadian! i cant even vote there! I guess its because most of our channels are American, or have American programs on them. CNN is a popular channel in this house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ick..politics. slimy subject but at the same time - interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sen. McCain, this is the guy who sang, 'Bomb, bomb, bomb Iran,' who called for the annihilation of North Korea. That I don't think is an example of speaking softly. This is the person who, after we had — we hadn't even finished Afghanistan, where he said, 'Next up, Baghdad.' So I agree that we have to speak responsibly and we have to act responsibly. And the reason Pakistan — the popular opinion of America had diminished in Pakistan was because we were supporting a dictator, (former President Pervez) Musharraf, had given him $10 billion over seven years, and he had suspended civil liberties. We were not promoting democracy. This is the kind of policies that ultimately end up undermining our ability to fight the war on terrorism, and it will change when I'm president." -Obama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of my friends actually told me that he will become president, but they think he will be shot because he's black. another JFK but for other reasons. and NO they werent trying to be racist. they just know theirs still racism. obviously. WTF. what the hell is wrong with the world? people are seriously messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I guess one main reson why im so into this election is because my brother is going to Afghanistan for a year in February. He has already been there before.&lt;br /&gt; Obviously, i want him out of there. and no, America had no control on whether or not my brother does-Canada does.&lt;br /&gt; I know for sure that America rubs off on us somewhat- America is there, Canada will be there.&lt;br /&gt;Barack wants America out - chances are Prime Minister Stephen Harper- which also has no clue what hes really doing with our economy- will want Canadian troops out of there too.&lt;br /&gt;this last election, 59% of our population DIDNT vote. Harper &lt;strong&gt;does not&lt;/strong&gt; set hearts aflutter in Canada, but no one offered a better alternative. An election was held, and virtually nothing changed. The prime minister did succeed in icing any near-term interest in another election.&lt;br /&gt;Harper even earned 6 seats in British columbia!&lt;br /&gt;conservatives won.again. Seriously, what is wrong with this picture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright, ive had enough of the politics for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-7113370524822828052?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/7113370524822828052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=7113370524822828052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7113370524822828052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7113370524822828052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-close-your-eyes-or-well-fade.html' title='Don&apos;t Close Your Eyes or We&apos;ll Fade.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-2729795965676141022</id><published>2008-10-08T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T09:22:30.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your So Far Away From Me.</title><content type='html'>Last night,I was thinking alot about things that have happened in my life that i could have easily avoided. If only i had actually used my brain for some things, instead of hearing something someone says and blowing up over it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;losing people in my life because of my efforts. not just mine, but theirs aswell.&lt;br /&gt;im not putting names down, just initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E&lt;/strong&gt;:stop playing around with me. Im being dead serious, i dont have time for a mind-fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;B&lt;/strong&gt;: your just the same as you were when you threw the cup of coffee and stormed off on me. have fun in Alberta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;D&lt;/strong&gt;: Your such a sweet girl but you hate me for no reason. I feel bad for you that your worried about me doing anything. I wouldnt touch her with a ten foot pole as far as im concerned. Theres nothing there between us. Oh, and thanks for that dirty look you gave me before you decided to talk to me. whatever, you think i honestly care? I dont hate you, dont see why you hate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;K:&lt;/strong&gt; your my best friend. still. to this day. I wish i was &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;C:&lt;/strong&gt; your soo far away. but your are one of the coolest people i know. I havent been on here lately but just know that i care about you. More than you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;M&lt;/strong&gt;: what happened to you? i havent seen you in months, didnt even know you moved out. Good luck with things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt;: im happy that you got a good job in your hands, but you dont want to work odd-jobs for the rest of your life! i cant believe you even told me that. go back to school! be smart about things!&lt;br /&gt;i havent seen you much lately and im sorry for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their's alot more people but these are the people who matter most. all of the other people i hang around with, im good with, so i can say things to their face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll put up another post, maybe not as depressing, in a couple of days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-2729795965676141022?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/2729795965676141022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=2729795965676141022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2729795965676141022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2729795965676141022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/10/your-so-far-away-from-me.html' title='Your So Far Away From Me.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5225117575259884030</id><published>2008-09-28T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T08:58:44.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tina Fey Is On a Roll</title><content type='html'>John McCain makes me sick. So does Sarah Palin.&lt;br /&gt;if they are elected, something is really wrong with America.&lt;br /&gt;She doesnt even know how to correctly answer a question!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supposedly the skit that was on SNL last night, was pretty much what&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SERIOUSLY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really funny to watch.. cause come on.. its Tina Fey. Shes awesome.&lt;br /&gt;But it just goes to show you how stupid people can be when they pick running partners.&lt;br /&gt;Really McCain? Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever. Vote Obama. America will be better off with someone with &lt;em&gt;intelligence&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5225117575259884030?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5225117575259884030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5225117575259884030' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5225117575259884030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5225117575259884030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/09/tina-fey-is-on-roll.html' title='Tina Fey Is On a Roll'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-3505510020519130934</id><published>2008-09-15T02:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T03:28:01.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Weekend.</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure this was one of the most interesting weekends. Alot happened!&lt;br /&gt;-Also if you see any typos its because its 7am in the morning and im too tired to care if theirs a few mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRIDAY-&lt;br /&gt;Friday after work I went to my friends place (she works with me) to stay the night. She showed me this neat new game called Spore - you start out in the game as one tiny cell and..well.. multiply. The game is pretty nifty, but a little too "Kiddish" for me.&lt;br /&gt;Also, shes a very cheap drunk lol. it was funny though.&lt;br /&gt;her cat is definatly evil. when i was sleeping he kept pouncing on me and biting my feet.&lt;br /&gt;overall it was a pretty sweet night. She has a nice cozy place with her boyfriend, who is a really smart, nice guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SATURDAY-&lt;br /&gt;Busses around here dont run the same schedule as they do on weekends. Infact, its entirely different. Especially when your on the totally opposite side of town, and it doesnt make matters any better when your friend has to go even further away from where your supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;It was either stay lost around her place (neither of them knew the bus route to get to where i had to go) or go with her, because my aunt and uncle live out where she was going.&lt;br /&gt;This, of course, made me so especially happy because i got to see my aunt and uncle that i had just seen last week and i just LOVE to randomly show up out of the blue..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uhm, yeah. sarcasm. =]&lt;br /&gt;They were happy to see me, and i know i didnt put a damper on their day, cause thats really how nice they are. Part of the reason why i went all the way out there is because in my panicked mood, when i called them to see if i had a lifeline left, my uncle invited me to a BBQ at my Aunt Carens place.&lt;br /&gt;One thing i dont like about this particular celebration is how mom was left out in the dark about it. Just last week she turned 50, yet the only person who had sent her a card is my aunt Phylis, who is the outcast of the family..she only shows up for funerals. No phone call from any of her other siblings..which makes me mad that they would celebrate Nanettes birthday but only mention moms birthday and go on with their day as if it wasnt something to celebrate. the big 5-0. I eventually got over this because it is, of course, how my family runs. Everyone is dysfuntional with one another in some way. They also enjoy to drink.&lt;br /&gt;Ahem.&lt;br /&gt;On with the evening, after i decided to drink 4 coolers in a row (Vodka, 7% ,Mikes Hard Lemonade) i found myself incapable of being quiet. I also found out that the entire family knows of my Homosexuality and they see it the same way as you would see a Husband and Wife. Which is great for me...*sigh*. I LOVE being Canadian! and thats not sarcasm! seriously, the entire family?! nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after the night of loud drunk talking, we got my uncle Leonard who didnt drink a drop to drive us to Aunt Nanettes place, where Uncle Ken and I decided to grab a beer and jump into the hot tub.&lt;br /&gt;I now know why they say not to drink while your in a hot tub.&lt;br /&gt;i was alright until 2am. Supposedly. I dont remember any of this, but i guess i passed out on the couch before that and when woke up i made a poor attempt to make it to the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;I owe my Aunt a bathroom rug.&lt;br /&gt;ew right? yeah i know. and imagine me waking up, asking if she knew if i got sick-&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;Aunt- yes i think that was you, all over the bathroom rug *giggles* but thats alright because i wanted to get a new one anyways!&lt;br /&gt;Me- *looks at aunt in shock* *turns red* this is so embarrassing.. i need to go lie down now.&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;SUNDAY- the above conversation took place on Sunday, where i curled up into a ball on the couch and waited for dad to drive me back home. I guess I looked like death, because everyone I saw yesterday looked at me and asked if I was okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, im done drinking. I'm sure I wont miss it too much, because it usually makes me sick all of the next day anyways. I dont even drink that often anyways, so i guess thats why i was so effed up after just 4 drinks. When i felt a bit more alive after popping two Advil i watched a movie that they're filming around my place. The security guards are dicks, but i guess its their job to be a little dickish.&lt;br /&gt;ew. I hate that word. AAANYWAYS&lt;br /&gt;now im home, sniffling and sneezing..&lt;br /&gt;I dont know what did it. could it be the coolers i had?&lt;br /&gt;I wouldnt be suprised.&lt;br /&gt;now i think im catching a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that was my fun-packed exciting weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Sick Chick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-3505510020519130934?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/3505510020519130934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=3505510020519130934' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3505510020519130934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3505510020519130934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-weekend.html' title='My Weekend.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-928950770202276693</id><published>2008-08-29T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T04:28:14.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wheres Your Head At?</title><content type='html'>Falling memories, passing by&lt;br /&gt;my faith has never exhisted.&lt;br /&gt;my mind screams for sincerity&lt;br /&gt;yet my mouth wanders&lt;br /&gt;the nothingness clutches me.&lt;br /&gt;my own thoughts eluding me.&lt;br /&gt;i take in the room. one second at a time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tick.tock.tick.tock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;i feel completely under-estimated.&lt;br /&gt;she looks at me with love,and compassion&lt;br /&gt;i can see it in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;she steps forward and reaches for my hand&lt;br /&gt;her hand goes right through mine.&lt;br /&gt;i look at her in shock.&lt;br /&gt;but i love(d) her. she knows it.&lt;br /&gt;her mouth grows into a smile.&lt;br /&gt;i look into her eyes, and open my mouth to speak&lt;br /&gt;nothing comes out. not even a whisper.&lt;br /&gt;i feel reality calling me back and clutching my heart&lt;br /&gt;clutching my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;a dream&lt;br /&gt;it was just a dream.&lt;br /&gt;just a dream.&lt;br /&gt;i curl up into a ball of misery&lt;br /&gt;of a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;my broken dreams haunt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they will tease, and poke.&lt;br /&gt;there's no controlling them.&lt;br /&gt;they will come and go as they please.&lt;br /&gt;she will come and go as she pleases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i ask myself  "why the torture?"&lt;br /&gt;and i know why.&lt;br /&gt;because she was my dream. before i even met her.&lt;br /&gt;i will dream of her until my body becomes one with the ground.&lt;br /&gt;but im tired of this dream.&lt;br /&gt;i want to trade it in for a new dream.&lt;br /&gt;a new her. a new amazing dream.&lt;br /&gt;not this one that breaks my heart.again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;please?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-928950770202276693?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/928950770202276693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=928950770202276693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/928950770202276693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/928950770202276693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/08/wheres-your-head-at.html' title='Wheres Your Head At?'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6754877614030313705</id><published>2008-08-14T14:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T15:03:33.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Veronicas</title><content type='html'>ARE THEY GAY??&lt;br /&gt;or bi?&lt;br /&gt;or one straight, one gay?&lt;br /&gt;they are totally pulling a katy perry, if they are straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;check it out :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://%3cobject%20width=%22425%22%20height=%22344%22%3e%3cparam%20name=%22movie%22%20value=%22http//www.youtube.com/v/jIlPP_FGExo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1%22%3E%3C/param%3E%3Cparam%20name=%22allowFullScreen%22%20value=%22true%22%3E%3C/param%3E%3Cembed%20src=%22http://www.youtube.com/v/jIlPP_FGExo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1%22%20type=%22application/x-shockwave-flash%22%20allowfullscreen=%22true%22%20width=%22425%22%20height=%22344%22%3E%3C/embed%3E%3C/object%3E"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jIlPP_FGExo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jIlPP_FGExo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6754877614030313705?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6754877614030313705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6754877614030313705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6754877614030313705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6754877614030313705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/08/veronicas.html' title='The Veronicas'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-4609708672217541530</id><published>2008-08-11T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T12:55:19.536-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good Songs'/><title type='text'>Guess This Song.</title><content type='html'>It seems every time i listen to the radio in the early morning, a good song that i can really relate to plays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I had to cut some of the lyrics out, just so i dont give the song away straight off the bat.&lt;br /&gt;do you know the song?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she rules her life like a bird in flight&lt;br /&gt;and who will be her lover?&lt;br /&gt;all your life you've never seen&lt;br /&gt;a woman , taken by the wind&lt;br /&gt;would you stay if she promised you heaven?&lt;br /&gt;will you ever win.....?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is like a cat in the dark&lt;br /&gt;and then she is the darkness&lt;br /&gt;she rules her life like a fine skylark&lt;br /&gt;and when the sky is starless&lt;br /&gt;all your life you've never seen&lt;br /&gt;a woman..taken by the wind...&lt;br /&gt;would you stay if she promised you heaven?&lt;br /&gt;will you ever win.....?&lt;br /&gt;will you ever win.....?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams unwind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love's a state of mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-4609708672217541530?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/4609708672217541530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=4609708672217541530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4609708672217541530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4609708672217541530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/08/guess-this-song.html' title='Guess This Song.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6056795604312434138</id><published>2008-08-05T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T13:42:58.624-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunk Hot Chicks w/ Boyfriends.'/><title type='text'>Odd and Crazy.</title><content type='html'>So this weekend was probably the weirdest weekend i've had in a while. Almost as weird as the time a 30-something-year-old woman tried to make out with me when i was bar hopping with some friends a few months back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Saturday night, my Aunt and Uncle held this party. Just a random party. But it just so happened that one of the people coming was having a birthday the next day, so we kind of celebrated her birthday too.She was trashed. I wouldn't doubt if she was way hungover on her b-day. Her boyfriend was a total asshole. he had the attention span of a 4-year-old kid. my aunt couldnt stand him either, which was pretty funny. i just ended up ignoring him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anyways! im going to get to the main point of the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This couple came and one works with my Uncle. My Uncle works as a mechanic.&lt;br /&gt;She's been working there for around a month, and I thought her boyfriend was a cool guy.&lt;br /&gt;a few hours passed by, pretty much everyone was drunk, and I'm pretty sure im one of few that still knew what they were actually doing and what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;the girl from my uncles work got soooo drunk. her and b-day girl were dancing in the living room , and i'd go in every once in a while to talk to them..or at least try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually B-day girl stopped dancing and the other girl was still dancing.  I went to go and talk to the one who was still dancing ( I'm not sure what her name is.. I know it started with N. So her name will be N in this)&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm sitting there, trying to talk to her over this &lt;strong&gt;BLASTING &lt;/strong&gt;music, and..&lt;br /&gt;and..&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;she kissed me.&lt;/strong&gt; oh my god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;she kissed me. So im sitting there freaking out, because her boyfriend is in the next room. then she goes off saying " ohmygod im so sorry, i love my boyfriend sooo much bla bla bla.." and i just said " hey, i didnt kiss you, you kissed me." then i kind of walked away from N and went to the bathroom. luckily i wasnt USING the washroom cause she walked right in!&lt;br /&gt;Then she went on to try and get my belt undone..and..ahem. you know. Trying to do stuff.Saying stuff to me, saying shes done it before, that shes bi..and i dont doubt it.and she was really pretty and all, but i don't do that shit. Especially when shes so drunk and has a boyfriend. UGH. it isnt the first time this has happened.&lt;br /&gt;  I felt sooo bad, had to push her off, then she tried making out with me.. had to push her off some more.. oh man. i had to tell her to leave. then the rest of the night i didnt bother talking to her, and her and her boyfriend left about 10 minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;soo... again, not the first time something like this has happened.&lt;br /&gt;and i have no idea how she knew about me, unless of course if its obvious. which i dont doubt. Im not a butch or anything like that, but i think people are crazy if they dont guess that im gay.&lt;br /&gt;so..yeah. Im sure this will happen again.&lt;br /&gt;oh, the wonders of alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;ughhh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6056795604312434138?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6056795604312434138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6056795604312434138' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6056795604312434138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6056795604312434138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/08/odd-and-crazy.html' title='Odd and Crazy.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-3243647676871699454</id><published>2008-07-31T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T14:08:28.426-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fuckers.'/><title type='text'>This Is Life.</title><content type='html'>We go to school, we graduate, we (sometimes) go back to school, all to become a miniscule worker.&lt;br /&gt;One Doctor&lt;br /&gt;One Waitress&lt;br /&gt;One cashier..&lt;br /&gt;Throw a few millionaires in here and there.&lt;br /&gt;work is work.&lt;br /&gt;your lucky if you have a job you love.&lt;br /&gt;your lucky if your not trapped.&lt;br /&gt;your a lucky &lt;strong&gt;fucker&lt;/strong&gt; if your rich.&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone can simply fuck off. im sick and tired of bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;relationships, jobs, money, government..&lt;br /&gt;fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;its all the same. i hate it. same thing day in day out.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like an ant in the grass, about to be stepped on at any moment.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like a failure.&lt;br /&gt;and then my friends start to avoid me, when i get like this. and some people i cant explain it to. you've got to understand, i get in these moods. i hate almost everyone for a while. i hate life for a while. i hate how SHITTY mine is starting to turn out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shove your fucking brains and books in my face, go ahead! i know im not stupid, i shouldnt have to make people believe the same thing. People can think whatever the fuck they want about me.&lt;br /&gt;its all a viscious cycle. you work then you fucking &lt;strong&gt;die.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope everyones fucking &lt;strong&gt;happy.&lt;br /&gt;i hope you drown in your money and forget about things that actually matter in life. i hope you become an arrogant person that i myself will never have the need or want to talk to. i hope your money takes over your every thought and you are a lonely fucker for the rest of your life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;money is so fucking stupid.&lt;br /&gt;excuse me while i loathe in my disgusting &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dumbass&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shove it up your ass. how about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-3243647676871699454?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/3243647676871699454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=3243647676871699454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3243647676871699454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3243647676871699454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-life.html' title='This Is Life.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6426986338369740056</id><published>2008-07-26T10:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T10:25:17.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>With One Voice -The Material.</title><content type='html'>My eyes are still burning from such sunny days&lt;br /&gt;When you came to paint all of my dark skies away&lt;br /&gt;Who would choose between two shades of gray&lt;br /&gt;In a world, in a world so fast my heart stops beating?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to wrap my head around a world so big, when we've got just one life, just one life to live&lt;br /&gt;How can my voice sound above all the lies?&lt;br /&gt;We're silenced by the masses, but who are we if we don't try?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a reason to believe this life is more than what it seems&lt;br /&gt;Give me a reason to believe you're all I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to decide just where my loyalties lie&lt;br /&gt;When our heads are filled with so much useless pride&lt;br /&gt;Children's cries drowned out as we feed our greed&lt;br /&gt;With no thought to the future, will we ever take a chance on peace?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a reason to believe this life is more than what it seems&lt;br /&gt;Give me a reason to believe you're all I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you're already gone, and I've been here too long&lt;br /&gt;And I see that it's all about to change&lt;br /&gt;Well you've come and gone and it seems so long &lt;br /&gt;please someone tell me that I am strong&lt;br /&gt;It's all about to change&lt;br /&gt;And you were here all this time&lt;br /&gt;But I was blind without a chance to make it right&lt;br /&gt;It's all about to change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a reason to believe you're all I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are my reason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6426986338369740056?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6426986338369740056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6426986338369740056' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6426986338369740056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6426986338369740056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/with-one-voice-material.html' title='With One Voice -The Material.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-7230673164457891340</id><published>2008-07-23T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T14:25:10.690-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad songs'/><title type='text'>No One Knows What Its Like..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="file://%3Cobject" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2Pp38SR1lMU&amp;amp;hl=" fs="1" width="425" height="344" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2Pp38SR1lMU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2Pp38SR1lMU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;this is how i feel today.&lt;br /&gt;ignore the straighties making out for a few secounds.&lt;br /&gt;the video is neat, and i love the song.&lt;br /&gt;i heard it in the car today, and it totally fits me lately.&lt;br /&gt;except im not a man..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah.&lt;br /&gt;P.S: i have NO idea why its showing up twice, but oh well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-7230673164457891340?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/7230673164457891340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=7230673164457891340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7230673164457891340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/7230673164457891340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/no-one-knows-what-its-like.html' title='No One Knows What Its Like..'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-6706878443795717135</id><published>2008-07-18T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T15:01:30.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My heart, It Beats, Beats For Only You..</title><content type='html'>im feeling defeated.walking with the weight of the world on my shoulders.trying to hide the things that i shouldnt hide.i try to be proud,and outgoing,but i cant help but cover up.my eyes are closing on me.my arms are weak, for all the weight ive been holding up is straining me.i can't keep up.my legs are giving up, as i try to run away from my life.my hands are clutching my past, my future, my everything.i crave a drink. i crave whenever i stress.i crave water, beer, anything.i dont want to feel out of this world. out of my realm.but really, i do. deep down.my heavy eyes close, but i lay awake.for hours.i see myself and i dont see the me who was youthful and free.yet i yearn to be that, always.i want to run and scream at the top of my lungs, jump around and be myself for once. whoever that may be.im tired of being alone.my heart is beating but it doesnt have that special beat that it deserves,,that it once had been given.Sarah Theresa Bruce, Where have you gone?i keep looking for you but i find an empty shell.please come back to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-6706878443795717135?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/6706878443795717135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=6706878443795717135' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6706878443795717135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/6706878443795717135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-feeling-defeated.html' title='My heart, It Beats, Beats For Only You..'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-3722772811047884497</id><published>2008-07-08T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T18:51:28.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fibres of Me.</title><content type='html'>every single cell in my body&lt;br /&gt;looks beyond, seeing sad eyes&lt;br /&gt;seeing pity on the faces of youth&lt;br /&gt;preying that someday i'll be yours.&lt;br /&gt;you are where i belong&lt;br /&gt;you are home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;expecting the world to straighten up&lt;br /&gt;become top notch in your mind&lt;br /&gt;its too far to stray&lt;br /&gt;its simply too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somehow i find a comfort in dreams&lt;br /&gt;dreams are the reality of my norm.&lt;br /&gt;they are what i think, yet im away from admitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stars in the distance remind me of how far i am&lt;br /&gt;from your touch, from your eyes&lt;br /&gt;i feel myself being pinched by reality&lt;br /&gt;yet i ignore it and take another whiff&lt;br /&gt;of life in the dark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no lover, no love&lt;br /&gt;just pain and agony&lt;br /&gt;i see myself hold on to the arrow in my heart&lt;br /&gt;slowly pulling at it, wishing the pain would stop&lt;br /&gt;letting it gradually pull out of my being.&lt;br /&gt;just a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smoke fills my lungs once again&lt;br /&gt;and i can see you&lt;br /&gt;feel you&lt;br /&gt;kiss you&lt;br /&gt;touch you&lt;br /&gt;but i fear this wish will never come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the arrow lies on the ground,covered by my feelings&lt;br /&gt;followed by the green that i wish i had never tried.&lt;br /&gt;it has taken me hostage&lt;br /&gt;i become aware that its a false comfort&lt;br /&gt;yet its a comfort at the moment, all the same&lt;br /&gt;voids will be covered by my stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only the dreams were true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-3722772811047884497?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/3722772811047884497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=3722772811047884497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3722772811047884497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3722772811047884497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/fibres-of-me.html' title='Fibres of Me.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-2968811563107583011</id><published>2008-07-08T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T11:26:23.588-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Oh Shit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;It takes everything in me not to tell you about my dream last night.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-2968811563107583011?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/2968811563107583011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=2968811563107583011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2968811563107583011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2968811563107583011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/it-takes-everything-in-me-not-to-tell.html' title='Oh Shit.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5957415924708153705</id><published>2008-07-05T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:39.391-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my gay self.'/><title type='text'>Lets Talk About..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Oh, how fun it is to be chased around the yard by raging hornets trying to sting you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are hornets always so mad? stupid hornets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a good day. It was nice out. I was in a good mood, for the most part. I was still hungover from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thursday&lt;/span&gt; earlier today. Which has made me think, maybe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; better off staying away from the alcohol. Or at least limit myself. I never really had a limit like I did when I first started drinking. I built up this tolerance for it.. it kind of makes me feel sick just thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was allergic to vodka, but i guess not. Instead I turn into a completely different person. Not in a bad sense, its just weird. Then I drunk dial people and they probably think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; completely INSANE! ( Sorry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Slo&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; Green, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kelka&lt;/span&gt;) I had no recollection of calling anyone. I kind of felt like a huge asshole.&lt;br /&gt;It made me emotional in a sense. Like the drunk girl who runs around at a party telling everyone how much she loves them.. yeah. That was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to another subject..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mowed the lawn today, which caused a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ruckus&lt;/span&gt; with the bee's and hornets. fuck them all, i say!&lt;br /&gt;well, bee's are cool, but they still scare me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May i just say how much i love my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt;?? I think I would seriously go insane without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was a little awkward..went to Greg's, He told me they were meeting up with some people, then i came back.. I cant be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;assed&lt;/span&gt; to walk all around town today, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; just not in the mood for it. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; probably gonna chill with him later tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents insist that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not gay.This is another reason i choose to stay away from vodka,but..maybe it was good that I fought back. I find it completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;hilarious&lt;/span&gt;, and i told it to their face that they have no idea what they are saying. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; pretty fucking gay. They said because I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have a Girlfriend. So what if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have a Girlfriend?!? I've dated girls!&lt;br /&gt;then they went on to say: "You've never done anything with a girl, so how would you know?" then I went on to tell them how naive and bigoted they were being. Also because I was drinking, I quickly told them that: &lt;strong&gt;I've had sex with girls. Including my 9-month relationship with that girl that they wouldn't let in the house in grade 11-12. Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;THEN! they go on to say "well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;you've&lt;/span&gt; never had sex with a boy, so how do you know you wont like it"&lt;br /&gt;I was fuming at this point. Just imagine me, red faced, with both of my parents down-sizing me.&lt;br /&gt;I then said &lt;strong&gt;" how do you know I've never had sex with a boy? And even if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt;, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; mean I've never done anything with one. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; simply not attracted to Men in that way. At all. Who cares if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have sex with one."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me feel..well..good. Good because the cat was out of the bag. They can think whatever they want but this is me, This is who I am, and they can accept it, and move on with their lives and not get tied up about it, because its my life and not theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;here's&lt;/span&gt; your daughter saying,&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; give a shit what you think of my sexual preference&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. I have no control over it. So fucking what if i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have a Girlfriend, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; make sense to call me a hetero. LOOK AT ME. Gayness just radiates off of me. if you cant see that, your blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy post? Not so much.&lt;br /&gt;Needed to be written as I was overlooking my last drinking experience? yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SHAMoFu3VHI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NC2ZaueH9wY/s1600-h/nofakeorgasms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219685850995446898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 354px" height="343" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SHAMoFu3VHI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NC2ZaueH9wY/s320/nofakeorgasms.jpg" width="259" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nova.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5957415924708153705?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5957415924708153705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5957415924708153705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5957415924708153705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5957415924708153705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-how-fun-it-is-to-be-chased-around.html' title='Lets Talk About..'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SHAMoFu3VHI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NC2ZaueH9wY/s72-c/nofakeorgasms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-3593138393723525141</id><published>2008-07-03T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:39.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG9z4BQn3jI/AAAAAAAAABI/cOWDGTYHqVI/s1600-h/IMG_9530.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG9z4BQn3jI/AAAAAAAAABI/cOWDGTYHqVI/s320/IMG_9530.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219517899393719858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-3593138393723525141?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/3593138393723525141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=3593138393723525141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3593138393723525141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/3593138393723525141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/post-that-needs-to-be-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG9z4BQn3jI/AAAAAAAAABI/cOWDGTYHqVI/s72-c/IMG_9530.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-4546461605828252317</id><published>2008-07-03T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:39.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Music = &lt;3. Fo' Real.</title><content type='html'>So today consisted of cleaning the house up. yep. fun stuff! =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I realized last night when I was paying my phone bill that im pretty much BROKE right now. fuckshitfuck. I didnt pay the whole thing,because..well thats how broke I am. plus I need to pay for my meds, that keep me healthy. Hrm. Kind of an oxy-moron.&lt;br /&gt;I miss being in Abq. And how much fun it was. Actually, I miss being anywhere but here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is such a stupid blog. I feel super un-interesting, but really! alot of interesting things happen! Interesting as in, really weird things. really.Like everytime I sit down in a bus, the military people always sit next to me. I never really understood why. Why me? I'm not yanking your chain! I have the weirdest experiences..but they are so weird that i like to block them out. Maybe I'll start writing about my dreams, cause they are really fucked up!JUST LIKE ME!!! (Makes a Vodka&amp;OJ)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I wanna make a podcast. like, bad. I think it would be super fun, and it would keep my mind off of the stupid annoying things in my life. Anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So if anyone is reading this.. and has read all the way through, congrats! I like to talk about stupid random things. =]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG0yS1zeejI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YKYtT8UK9bM/s1600-h/IMG_0248.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG0yS1zeejI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YKYtT8UK9bM/s320/IMG_0248.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218882842454293042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-4546461605828252317?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/4546461605828252317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=4546461605828252317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4546461605828252317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/4546461605828252317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/music-3-fo-real.html' title='Music = &lt;3. Fo&apos; Real.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SG0yS1zeejI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YKYtT8UK9bM/s72-c/IMG_0248.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5699948422542953779</id><published>2008-07-01T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T13:30:46.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weapon of Choice.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One More Thing That I'm Addicted To.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-5699948422542953779?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5699948422542953779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5699948422542953779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5699948422542953779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5699948422542953779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/07/weapon-of-choice.html' title='Weapon of Choice.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-2160263012376421898</id><published>2008-06-22T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:39.792-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boring-Town.'/><title type='text'>Culture.</title><content type='html'>Today, I realized how bored I am of my Town.&lt;br /&gt;Theres nothing here. Nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;Its a dead end. I dont want to live here. If i lived in the City I think it'd be okay. anywhere but here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today consisted of not a heck of alot:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biked to the store to replace the juice I drank last night with Vodka.&lt;br /&gt;yippee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Later when I got back the computer decided to be a fucktard.&lt;br /&gt;so that was really fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then made my facebook a little more private, because of the photos and videos that are showing up on there from KP'08. some are normal but there are a few that are BAD. Not boss worthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went up to Alexs.. *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;We then sat there, saying over and over how we wished there was something to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sitting here, typing this lame-ass post because theres nothing better to do.&lt;br /&gt;ahh fuck no wonder i want to travel all of the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SF8T_l15E2I/AAAAAAAAAAo/iASUXbcW45I/s1600-h/wegangstas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SF8T_l15E2I/AAAAAAAAAAo/iASUXbcW45I/s320/wegangstas.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214908876729160546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-2160263012376421898?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/2160263012376421898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=2160263012376421898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2160263012376421898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2160263012376421898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/06/culture.html' title='Culture.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SF8T_l15E2I/AAAAAAAAAAo/iASUXbcW45I/s72-c/wegangstas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-8668987844109156046</id><published>2008-06-20T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:39.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Into Your Head.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Yeah lame title. I know. I tend to use song lyrics when i cant think of anything else to put.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   So today im in an alright mood I suppose. I've been in a pretty awesome mood lately. the only reason im "alright" right now is cause my friends decided to have me over for some beer last night. me+beer = guaranteed hangover.&lt;br /&gt;I slept in too late for my own good so here I am, at 2:30 am wide awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I dont think I can put into words how amazing last weekend was. It actually changed me. It was the best decision i've ever made, to just do something spontaneous like that.&lt;br /&gt;   I met so many amazing people! every single person who attended KP08 was so nice!&lt;br /&gt;the whole trip just plays over and over in my head. Not a single thing went wrong, not a single awkward moment..just..ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   but now im thinking of next year.already. hmmm. probably shouldnt, but I know I'll be able to make it for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  so many hot girls..ahh....&lt;br /&gt;anyways! thats all for now. and heres a picture :&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFyTueisRnI/AAAAAAAAAAg/aGHYKCPcdNs/s1600-h/omgyyes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFyTueisRnI/AAAAAAAAAAg/aGHYKCPcdNs/s320/omgyyes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214204895270028914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-8668987844109156046?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/8668987844109156046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=8668987844109156046' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/8668987844109156046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/8668987844109156046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/06/into-your-head.html' title='Into Your Head.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFyTueisRnI/AAAAAAAAAAg/aGHYKCPcdNs/s72-c/omgyyes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-2605938482061061035</id><published>2008-06-11T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:40.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>this is how i feel right now</title><content type='html'>i feel like a huge bundle of nerves. im SO excited for tomorrow. but im also worried that something might happen.&lt;br /&gt;most of all though i guess im happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont really have much else to say... i'll post tomorrow at the airport if i can find an internet card or a wi-fi spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFB5utcCTYI/AAAAAAAAAAY/ERuFJ0WGW0w/s1600-h/IMG_0229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFB5utcCTYI/AAAAAAAAAAY/ERuFJ0WGW0w/s320/IMG_0229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210798612245794178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8843310261150140965-2605938482061061035?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/2605938482061061035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=2605938482061061035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2605938482061061035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/2605938482061061035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/06/this-is-how-i-feel-right-now.html' title='this is how i feel right now'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SFB5utcCTYI/AAAAAAAAAAY/ERuFJ0WGW0w/s72-c/IMG_0229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8843310261150140965.post-5406347204502635115</id><published>2008-06-09T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T03:48:40.363-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my gay self.'/><title type='text'>First and Foremost..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    Well, this is the first of probably many posts on this blog. i do use LJ but, i think I'll be switching to this. It seems a little more creative i guess.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have much to say right now really..&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from getting my passport and i was going to get US money but the bank was closed when i went by, so I'll probably get some either tomorrow or Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting my hair did in a while. yes i said it, getting it DID and WHATT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    heres a random picture.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SE0sX3VSawI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/i6Yf695S78o/s1600-h/airport.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SE0sX3VSawI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/i6Yf695S78o/s320/airport.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209869132439382786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;note: im the dork in the black making a retarded face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8843310261150140965-5406347204502635115?l=sarahtb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/feeds/5406347204502635115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8843310261150140965&amp;postID=5406347204502635115' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5406347204502635115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8843310261150140965/posts/default/5406347204502635115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahtb.blogspot.com/2008/06/first-and-foremost.html' title='First and Foremost..'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759821416023238892</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BhGK76E0e7Y/SE0sX3VSawI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/i6Yf695S78o/s72-c/airport.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
