<?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-5059008044462175195</id><updated>2011-08-01T15:59:44.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks, I'll have water...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-8673241036585507170</id><published>2009-10-28T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T23:01:20.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This conversation through me for a loop a little and feel the need to preserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_3923798573" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;so he believes its important for a family to be unified under the last name&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_4240362900" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;which I agree with&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_2908017933" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;I asked whats wrong with being unified under the woman's last name or under the joining of both last names&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_1622147955" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;he said that our society traces lineage through fathers last names&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_4173448206" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;so I said then wouldn't the joining of both names be more efficient for that&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_2905058609" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and he said yes and so I asked his opinion on using both names&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_1301078057" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and he said makes him seem like less of a man&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_1595344672" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and I said he should be more secure in his masculinity and be more interested in a relationship being an equal partnership&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_3613123252" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and he said that he doesnt want a life partner, he wants a wife&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_1649953956" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;so I asked whats the difference&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_3925209517" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and he said "a life partner is less connected. It's like gays who can't get married get a life partner instead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_731978930" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;I said that I dont understand how being equal members of a relationship makes a woman a life partner rather than a wife&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p id="msg_1026900038_379724852" class="p_self pic_padding"&gt;and he just replied that he doesnt know, he hasnt given it enough thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him to give it the appropriate amount of thought some time, that I'd appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said okay, I thanked him, he said you're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you happen to read this. Thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-8673241036585507170?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8673241036585507170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=8673241036585507170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/8673241036585507170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/8673241036585507170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-conversation-through-me-for-loop.html' title=''/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-4765644016914403186</id><published>2009-09-01T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T22:07:59.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Over Due Ephiany</title><content type='html'>Dear My Most Loyal Readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apologize&lt;/span&gt; for being so long between posts. Now that I'll have a more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;consistent&lt;/span&gt; schedule I fully expect to update more regularly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; has a new spokesperson, famed talk show host, Ellen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Degeneres&lt;/span&gt;. As most of you know, I've used &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; foundation, blush, and various other products for most of my adult life. I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately and this new ad campaign has really got me thinking... Ellen is one of the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;prominent&lt;/span&gt; lesbian &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;celebraties&lt;/span&gt;... Ellen is a lesbian, she uses &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt;, who's to say that I'm not a lesbian, I mean.. I use &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another rather significant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; spokesperson is Queen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Latifa&lt;/span&gt;, she's been supporting and promoting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; ever since I can remember. If there is one person that I associate with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; more than anyone else, that person is Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Latifa&lt;/span&gt;. In case you've been leaving under a rock, the Queen finally came out of her loosely locked closet last year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If such prominent women that wear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;CoverGirl&lt;/span&gt; products can be lesbians, I must be a lesbian too. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I'll be in for an interesting weekend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading, Signing Off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-4765644016914403186?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4765644016914403186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=4765644016914403186' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/4765644016914403186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/4765644016914403186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-over-due-ephiany.html' title='My Over Due Ephiany'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-197831015188085347</id><published>2008-10-03T02:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T02:43:52.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live to Party or Party to Live?</title><content type='html'>Are you the type of person that lives in the moment like that Eve 6 song says, "Are you the now or never kind?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a number of guys and gals that are. Or at least live in such away that would lead to that assumption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not the now or never kind, I'm the "If not now, maybe next time" kind. And I like it that way, maybe I'm an optimist and anticipate next times always existing. I sort of feel as though if next time doesn't exist, oh well, I probably didn't want it all that badly anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Are we all clear on what it means to be the "If not now, maybe next time" kind? What do you think that phrase implies?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, if I'm the "If not now, maybe next time" kind and I'm an optimist, is the now or never kind the opposite of me? If we're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;opposites&lt;/span&gt; and I'm an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;optimist&lt;/span&gt;.... them that would make them a pessimist? Or do they not even think enough to be a pessimist, they just think enough to say "yes" and act?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew one guy that claimed he had "no regrets"; he said that whatever decision he'd made, even if later he thought the other choice would have been better, he knew that at the time, he thought he was making the right, best choice, thus, no regrets. If this were ECON 2050, we'd "assume" that he was "rational".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what if... you do make a mistake, you're beating yourself up about it... how long until you finally let yourself go, forgive yourself, if you will?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or answer this, can you make mistakes and admit to those mistakes, but still have no regrets? Are you sure about that? ....really answer this one, I'm so interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which has the best result?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A number of people claim that it's better to make decisions as though right now is all there is, that what's happening right now is what counts.  What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As G/T kid, they tell you that you think way more than other kids. Thinking about my friends, the G/T kids that come to mind seem as though they'd be thoughtful when it came to decisions for the most part. So would that put them in the "If not now, maybe later" group? And if that is the case, are the brainy kids "If not now, maybe later" and the "less brainy" kids the now or never?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to me people. I want &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;input&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-197831015188085347?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/197831015188085347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=197831015188085347' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/197831015188085347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/197831015188085347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/live-to-party-or-party-to-live.html' title='Live to Party or Party to Live?'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-5300145661200450967</id><published>2008-08-28T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T13:30:26.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tribute to Examples and the People Who Set Them</title><content type='html'>On my floor the RA put papers on each door with the name of the people that live inside. For example, our door has two papers taped to it, one with my name, Kelly, and another with my room mates name, Kristin. As far as I can tell, each paper has an inspirational quote at the bottom of it. The quote that accompanies my paper goes as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mistakes can often be as good a teacher as success."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironic? I thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that quote that says something about how some peoples purpose is to be an example to others of what NOT to do? I've always thought how much it sucks to be those people. But when I look at stuff that I've done the only solace I have is to think "Well, at least I know that I never want to do that again", "at least I know that's not what I want for myself", and "at least I'll be able to help other people by advising them against doing what I did".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always make decisions because I think they'll work out, and then while they're happening or after they happen I think "Man, this might have turned out better if I hadn't done that." Ross used to be bothered by some action I took and I'd say something along the lines of "Okay, I won't do that next time." but then something similar (but not the same) would happen and I'd do the same thing. (I wish I could be more specific, I just can't remember an actual example.) And Ross would say that I'd done it again, and I'd say "It was a different situation, I didn't know it would be wrong in that situation." And Ross would say something relating to how he wishes I didn't always have to make a mistake first, that it'd be nice if sometimes I could just know not to do something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is that sometimes I do KNOW not to do something and I don't do it, other times I KNOW not to do something but I do it anyway... because its what I want to do, or because I really just want to believe its the right thing, other times I feel that there is reasonable doubt, and then sometimes, I feel pressured to choose wrongly as to not hurt someone else. I'm sure there are scenarios other than this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I've written this before but I once told my camp kids that a pretty reliable way to tell what the right thing to do is, is that the right choice is usually the more difficult one. Not always true, but it definitely can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of this post? &lt;br /&gt;Eff decisions not being black and white. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post rambles a lot... sorry. I was doing a lot of other things while I was trying to write it. I finally gave up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-5300145661200450967?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5300145661200450967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=5300145661200450967' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5300145661200450967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5300145661200450967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/08/tribute-to-examples-and-people-who-set.html' title='A Tribute to Examples and the People Who Set Them'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-1122152720769027508</id><published>2008-08-07T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T13:42:54.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I hold the Record</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJtxVg2IeUI/AAAAAAAAAAo/htdC4bY1N7Q/s1600-h/iswitchedmarketsagain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231900006529136962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJtxVg2IeUI/AAAAAAAAAAo/htdC4bY1N7Q/s320/iswitchedmarketsagain.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I hold the record for crying in the widest variety of places, at least when it comes down to our friends. I would guess, although I dont have hard proof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I believe there was either a postsecret or a response to a post secret that said something about how nice and concerned people are when they see someone distraught in pubic. It true. And it only makes me cry harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't tell you the number of times I've cried just thinking about how nice people are. I'm always impressed when people care enough to show concern. Friends and strangers alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think that the times I've cried weren't completely warranted. I'm not usually that sensitive, special circumstances over a span of months. I don't cry like that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I'll go into detail, have shout outs, the whole deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-1122152720769027508?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1122152720769027508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=1122152720769027508' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/1122152720769027508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/1122152720769027508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post_07.html' title='Because I hold the Record'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJtxVg2IeUI/AAAAAAAAAAo/htdC4bY1N7Q/s72-c/iswitchedmarketsagain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-5517597931212573948</id><published>2008-08-03T23:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T23:25:42.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJag1Q3npEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/IyLNP4am93s/s1600-h/andnowsheknowsittoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJag1Q3npEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/IyLNP4am93s/s320/andnowsheknowsittoo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230544854159172674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-5517597931212573948?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5517597931212573948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=5517597931212573948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5517597931212573948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5517597931212573948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SJag1Q3npEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/IyLNP4am93s/s72-c/andnowsheknowsittoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-8463366943432067499</id><published>2008-07-16T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T00:02:56.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Only the Best?</title><content type='html'>Refusing to settle doesn't &lt;strong&gt;just &lt;/strong&gt;mean not marrying a prick. It means refusing to let a pricks presence in your life weigh you down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-8463366943432067499?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8463366943432067499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=8463366943432067499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/8463366943432067499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/8463366943432067499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/07/refusing-to-settle-doesnt-just-mean-not.html' title='Only the Best?'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-7175256925575056500</id><published>2008-07-16T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T00:02:05.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dare to Sacrifice</title><content type='html'>One time I told Ross that I wouldn't allow fear to keep me from taking care of others. That I would be willing to take care of Kid Ciry kids even if it meant there was a possibility that I could get shot and that even if I did "get shot" I wouldn't let that stop me from returning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't support that and the reasoning he gave related to the idea that I have more to offer by not getting mortally wounded/endagering myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's the thing. By being with him I have sacrificed much of what made me such a capable person in the area of aiding others. Being with him has caused me to feel ashamed and inadequite. Being with him hasd damaged my abilities more that the prospect of physical danger ever could, I believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-7175256925575056500?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7175256925575056500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=7175256925575056500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/7175256925575056500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/7175256925575056500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/07/one-time-i-told-ross-that-i-wouldnt.html' title='Dare to Sacrifice'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-5832538562018095406</id><published>2008-07-16T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T00:01:31.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Wants" List</title><content type='html'>Genuinly loves and cares about people&lt;br /&gt;isn't opposed to Christianity/would come to church regularly&lt;br /&gt;truely respects my morals &amp;amp; beliefs/who I am&lt;br /&gt;doesn't feel a need to change me but will accept me if I do&lt;br /&gt;would mae a good father/husband&lt;br /&gt;accepts my flaws &amp;amp; imperfections &amp;amp; loves me for them&lt;br /&gt;is willing to put up with my crap&lt;br /&gt;will let me argue&lt;br /&gt;refuses to lay an angrily aggressive hand on me&lt;br /&gt;doesn't abuse substances&lt;br /&gt;lets me make my own decisions&lt;br /&gt;looks at what is best for &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt; not what he prefers&lt;br /&gt;lets me make my own mistakes&lt;br /&gt;forgives me when I do wrongly&lt;br /&gt;Loves my appearance, even when I look crummy&lt;br /&gt;good sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;Loves &amp;amp; respects &lt;strong&gt;my&lt;/strong&gt; love of people&lt;br /&gt;respects my money and time and doesn't take themn for granted&lt;br /&gt;accepts &lt;strong&gt;all&lt;/strong&gt; my friends&lt;br /&gt;doesn't put "weird" restrictions on my actions&lt;br /&gt;Loves/is good with "my" kids&lt;br /&gt;inspires me to be better&lt;br /&gt;makes me stronger&lt;br /&gt;Loves New Orleans&lt;br /&gt;supports/balances me&lt;br /&gt;doesn't make me feel preasured about things&lt;br /&gt;into festivals/music/food&lt;br /&gt;No/limited altimatums/hypotheticals&lt;br /&gt;doesn't hold me back&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-5832538562018095406?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5832538562018095406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=5832538562018095406' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5832538562018095406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5832538562018095406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/07/wants-genuinly-loves-and-cares-about.html' title='The &quot;Wants&quot; List'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-4569176970957852736</id><published>2008-05-28T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T21:36:23.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed with the Best?</title><content type='html'>Originally posted to xanga.&lt;br /&gt;I really really want to be the person I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;I want to do what I want.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be whatever.&lt;br /&gt;I want to make my mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy's a great best friend. She's really down for letting me fuck up if I want to. Like, yeah there are times when you really need to interviene I guess, but those times don't exist with me. I ask Amy her opinion and she gives it and says "... is what I'd do" or "...is how I'd feel." and she doesnt get offended if I'm not down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shes really good about letting me know where she stands, and shes really good at thinking the way I think, and when we think differently we accept that thats the case.Shes down for trying things, and doing different things. but if one of us if like "I don't want to do that" we accept that thats how the other one feels and we don't hold it against them and we don't pressure them into anything. (Sometimes I push a little but I give in really easily, cuz Amy's Amy, you can't make her do anything.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're really great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People always talk about having become a better person for having known such and such a person for having had such and such a person in their life. And maybe its just because the last few years/high school is a really important time, but Amy is definatly one of the most positivly influencial people that I've ever known. And yeah I'm glad that I've known all these other people, but I can say with all the confidence in the world, that I wouldn't be the same person without having known her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm definitly funnier, I definitly listen to more/different music, watch more/different movies, she helps me reason things out. If I hadn't had her to depend on throught things with Ross, I might have exploded. She was always patient and always listened and when I was stupid, she could see, some how, where I could be coming from. I always trust her not to judge me, or hold my thoughts/actions against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's exactly what it means to be a best friend. I swear. I want to know her forever and I never want there to be a time when I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could probably talk more about it. I could go into the history of us, we're pretty effin adorable/ridiculous. I love us. The best thing thats happened to me so far in life, is getting to have a real best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha, what does that make me sound like a lesbo?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-4569176970957852736?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4569176970957852736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=4569176970957852736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/4569176970957852736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/4569176970957852736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2008/05/blessed-with-best.html' title='Blessed with the Best?'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-7510359533461436947</id><published>2007-10-01T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T00:00:46.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honesty... slash Lying</title><content type='html'>People always tell me how honest I am, that I "tell it like it is", I'm straight forward.&lt;br /&gt;Its pretty true. I hardly know how to lie and when I do lie, it was with the intwntion of doing what I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day when I was thinking about people saying that about me, I wondered why telling the truth is such a big deal; I mean its weird to lie, why would anyone do that? But then I realized how naive that question is, everyone lies. People lie about homework, people lie to their bosses, people lie to their friends and family. People lie because they are greedy, or ashamed, or habitual. Some people just lie because they've gotten so use to doing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-7510359533461436947?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7510359533461436947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=7510359533461436947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/7510359533461436947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/7510359533461436947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2007/10/people-always-tell-me-how-honest-i-am.html' title='Honesty... slash Lying'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059008044462175195.post-5908446829859552668</id><published>2007-10-01T23:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T00:02:35.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Causing a Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I like myself pretty well. Sounds really conceited but its because of the way I talk/we talk. I love the way it seems to affect people. I like that its impossible not to notice it and I love when people say that they've started doing it, talking with their hands or talking in questions. It shows that you have some hand in peoples' lives, that sounds sick and twisted, but I don't mean for it to. It's just that everyone's goal in life is to "change the world" or "make a difference" and even though it isn't actually doing any good or improving anyone's quality of life, and even though it won't leave a lasting mark, to know that at some point, some how, you altered someone's reality, altered their sense of self, you can't help but be a little proud.&lt;br /&gt;Boy, that sounds more concieted that I expected it to.&lt;br /&gt;Its, impacting someone, is like some kind of reassurance. Like reassurance that you matter or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Who doesn't love when it drizzles but tha sun still shines? This morning I realized that part of the reaon that situation is so great is because its like the definition of Hope. Can you see that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5059008044462175195-5908446829859552668?l=trylookingleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5908446829859552668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5059008044462175195&amp;postID=5908446829859552668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5908446829859552668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5059008044462175195/posts/default/5908446829859552668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trylookingleft.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-like-myself-pretty-well.html' title='Causing a Change'/><author><name>PrettyDamnIncredible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00259928569311201801</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2kDpgfYiD80/SId2ENu5XeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vGysxioSs-E/S220/hmmm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
