tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43846504572334562892024-03-13T04:46:04.766-06:00Beebee's BlogBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-20334024072015066842013-12-14T18:17:00.001-07:002013-12-14T19:01:20.222-07:00a poem: Trees<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Trees<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
EJ McNellan</div>
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<br /></div>
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April 20<sup>th</sup>,
1999<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was 5 years old<o:p></o:p></div>
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when the world was
shattered<o:p></o:p></div>
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by the sound of a
click<o:p></o:p></div>
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and a piercing
paroxysm<o:p></o:p></div>
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in a place where
books, not bullets, belonged<o:p></o:p></div>
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13 taken<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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July 20<sup>th</sup>,
2012<o:p></o:p></div>
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The utterance of that
date <o:p></o:p></div>
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sends chills down
spines<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was the age of the
Columbine victims<o:p></o:p></div>
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and it hit too close
to home<o:p></o:p></div>
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I felt the force of
the flame<o:p></o:p></div>
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burn the edge of my bubble<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where was Batman?<o:p></o:p></div>
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12 taken<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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December 14<sup>th</sup>,
2012<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wounds not yet healed<o:p></o:p></div>
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still seeping<o:p></o:p></div>
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festering<o:p></o:p></div>
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when our children<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our children<o:p></o:p></div>
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the age I was<o:p></o:p></div>
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when our world was
awoken<o:p></o:p></div>
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by wilting Columbines<o:p></o:p></div>
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were plucked from
space like a burst bubble on a freckled nose<o:p></o:p></div>
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so easily<o:p></o:p></div>
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whisked away<o:p></o:p></div>
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by a wild wind<o:p></o:p></div>
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a wind silent until
it shakes the walls<o:p></o:p></div>
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strong enough to
break bridges and buildings<o:p></o:p></div>
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But where does the
wind come from?<o:p></o:p></div>
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20 innocents<o:p></o:p></div>
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6 angels<o:p></o:p></div>
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and the carefree routines
<o:p></o:p></div>
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of 40 devastated protectors<o:p></o:p></div>
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taken<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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December 13<sup>th</sup>,
2013<o:p></o:p></div>
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One day less<o:p></o:p></div>
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than a year from
tragedy<o:p></o:p></div>
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and a girl<o:p></o:p></div>
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called by the same name
as my blood bound sister<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
feels the fiery force<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and messes the covers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
of a bed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
in a hospital<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
where one more bed could have stayed made<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
her life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
rustles in the wind<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
fragile as an autumn
leaf<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
51 feathers flown<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
51 bubbles burst<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
51 fires extinguished<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by such little force<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and I watch<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
the nation cry<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
distraught<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by the power of the
wind</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p></o:p>A wind that surrounds
me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Too close for comfort<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Why doesn’t the wind
want me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I wonder<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
When will the wind
want me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
the thought sends
chills down spines<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
we can plant trees<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I waver<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and surround our
flames with trees<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Let us plant trees<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
For trees will block
the wind<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and together, we can
plant trees<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And surrounded by
wood<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
we will waver no
longer with the force of the wind<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-67375871778878734192013-01-18T13:58:00.001-07:002013-01-18T13:58:30.482-07:00"A Prayer"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yTJQ0JoQQH4/UPm2b8Nk3HI/AAAAAAAAAcs/DEFD3F1HiQU/s1600/praying.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yTJQ0JoQQH4/UPm2b8Nk3HI/AAAAAAAAAcs/DEFD3F1HiQU/s400/praying.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
"May God break my heart so completely that the whole world falls in."<br />
<br />
-Mother Teresa<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-19280007299025248032013-01-12T22:19:00.005-07:002013-01-12T22:19:50.535-07:00"From the Ashes"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QSGdJcEvq5k/UPJDnhn06eI/AAAAAAAAAcY/QKmQ95dvuzg/s1600/skull.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QSGdJcEvq5k/UPJDnhn06eI/AAAAAAAAAcY/QKmQ95dvuzg/s400/skull.JPG" width="367" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-61714901706409493352013-01-09T17:01:00.001-07:002013-01-09T17:01:33.873-07:00"Hat"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udSxM150oO8/UO3-H75l9mI/AAAAAAAAAcE/BK8Hy6PkpQs/s1600/girlwithhat2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udSxM150oO8/UO3-H75l9mI/AAAAAAAAAcE/BK8Hy6PkpQs/s400/girlwithhat2.JPG" width="387" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-33572738510733831882013-01-08T11:16:00.000-07:002013-01-08T11:17:09.441-07:00"Beating in Unison"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VaJ-PyrTp5k/UOpi6NTYTZI/AAAAAAAAAbw/NauBRM8YdVY/s1600/%22beating+in+unison%22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VaJ-PyrTp5k/UOpi6NTYTZI/AAAAAAAAAbw/NauBRM8YdVY/s400/%22beating+in+unison%22.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-20194514911239600692013-01-02T14:38:00.000-07:002013-01-02T14:48:25.373-07:00"Rainy Day"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-srXmkiyJC_U/UOCEqoOGT6I/AAAAAAAAAbA/bBJYDgwei2c/s1600/rainyday.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-srXmkiyJC_U/UOCEqoOGT6I/AAAAAAAAAbA/bBJYDgwei2c/s400/rainyday.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-2227371019633601002013-01-01T12:26:00.000-07:002013-01-01T12:26:30.924-07:00"There is a Monster in the Bed"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3jY6WRlwrXM/UOCGGhNaV0I/AAAAAAAAAbU/wJ4YiZIRUcE/s1600/there'samonsterinthebed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3jY6WRlwrXM/UOCGGhNaV0I/AAAAAAAAAbU/wJ4YiZIRUcE/s400/there'samonsterinthebed.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-88125791119814377102012-12-31T12:00:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:20:41.095-07:00"Eye"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnPF-ovT-bg/UOCApFAm8XI/AAAAAAAAAas/wlQFsYpJfe8/s1600/eye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnPF-ovT-bg/UOCApFAm8XI/AAAAAAAAAas/wlQFsYpJfe8/s400/eye.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-74708327348203596792012-12-30T21:15:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:20:48.898-07:00"Lost Goggles"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xoypZujL9Yk/UN0cGU0848I/AAAAAAAAAZk/8hmFamk3ba4/s1600/lostgoggles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xoypZujL9Yk/UN0cGU0848I/AAAAAAAAAZk/8hmFamk3ba4/s400/lostgoggles.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-12909944730620372612012-12-30T09:31:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:22:30.278-07:00"Thoughts"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRAOjCRV9_I/UN3Im752g1I/AAAAAAAAAaY/MGpAdLtnXpo/s1600/thoughts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRAOjCRV9_I/UN3Im752g1I/AAAAAAAAAaY/MGpAdLtnXpo/s400/thoughts.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-40888286160210580792012-12-29T10:06:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:22:37.652-07:00"Skeletal"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02JyUuS0JyI/UN0bD05UqsI/AAAAAAAAAZY/K5-oTbmQJFo/s1600/skeletal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="327" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02JyUuS0JyI/UN0bD05UqsI/AAAAAAAAAZY/K5-oTbmQJFo/s400/skeletal.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-51861628775815690392012-12-29T09:10:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:22:52.698-07:00"The Bear Within Me"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This one seemed a bit Christmasy.. so I had to post before the holiday season is over! :'(</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YMksz1vTm7c/UN0UAzInycI/AAAAAAAAAZE/elK774Zl9Jc/s1600/thebearinme.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YMksz1vTm7c/UN0UAzInycI/AAAAAAAAAZE/elK774Zl9Jc/s400/thebearinme.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
..and when the boy closed his eyes on that dark winter's night, as flurries of snow enveloped him and the bitter air clawed at his lungs, he imagined himself as a mighty bear whose strength and power could overcome any misery...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-50952803334596139842012-12-27T17:56:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:23:01.950-07:00"Passion"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pGh71eFuFyw/UNzsHv8eC1I/AAAAAAAAAYw/04G2aYA8zdg/s1600/passion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pGh71eFuFyw/UNzsHv8eC1I/AAAAAAAAAYw/04G2aYA8zdg/s400/passion.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
While I'm dancing on stage, sometime after warmth has flooded my muscles but before the onset of muscle aches, a chill runs through my body sending currents through my spine and electrifying the performance. In that moment, I swear that my body, mind, and soul are unified in a fiery burst of sparks lighting the dark abyss of existence.<br />
<br />
-B<br />
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-75597639543118888522012-12-27T11:07:00.000-07:002012-12-31T12:23:13.715-07:00"Dreaming"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Da4_68jOuZw/UNyNENd0PRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/UId9BtxebuE/s1600/dreaming.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Da4_68jOuZw/UNyNENd0PRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/UId9BtxebuE/s400/dreaming.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<h1 style="font-family: serif; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven</i></span></span></h1>
<div class="stanza" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,<br />
Enwrought with golden and silver light,<br />
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths<br />
Of night and light and the half-light,</div>
<div class="stanza" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
I would spread the cloths under your feet:<br />
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;<br />
I have spread my dreams under your feet;<br />
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.</div>
<div class="signature" style="font-style: italic; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 1em;">
William Butler Yeats</div>
<div class="signature" style="font-style: italic; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div class="signature" style="font-style: italic; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div class="signature" style="font-style: italic; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 1em;">
<br /></div>
Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-52512837215716387692012-12-27T09:54:00.000-07:002012-12-27T09:56:04.618-07:00As the new year rolls around......I was scrolling through some old comments and I couldn't help but smile at what kind readers I have! It means more than you would think to hear nice feedback from a positive community of bloggers out there in cyberspace. Although posting lighthearted narrations is quite entertaining, lately, I have lost a lot of motivation for this blog. I've really felt no inspiration to write cheesy anecdotes. I have, however, had a few spurts of inspiration as far as my art. For a while, I thought that the art I was making didn't match this blog, so I felt that I couldn't mix the two. However, I've decided that what this blog once was does not need to restrict what it could be. Therefore, this blog is going through a slight transformation. I'm hoping to post more art than text in the coming weeks.<br />
<br />
Thomas Merton once said, "Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."<br />
<br />
Sometimes when I'm drawing, I imagine myself wandering within a dark thicket of trees, or wading through the murky waters of an everglade. I always concoct images that exist in a time and place apart from this one. In order to draw, I quite regularly try to lose myself in an entirely different world. But sometimes, I find that the faraway places that I imagine are those which feel closest to home. <br />
<br />
I think drawing from the imagination is quite therapeutic--and it need not simply be for children.<br />
<br />
-BBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-12753235194836021642012-06-14T20:50:00.002-06:002012-06-14T20:50:33.450-06:00STORE!! And cool guy.Hello friends,<br />
<br />
I have great news!! I am proud to announce that I have officially opened a store! Now I warn you, it is still very much "in progress," but I'll try to let you know when new things go up!! You all should go check it out and buy things. If you don't want to buy anything, you should tell all of your friends just in case <i>they </i>want to buy things. And if none of them want to buy things, you should advertise all over every social media site you are part of just in case anybody around the world wants to buy things. BUY THINGS!!!!<br />
<br />
Without further ado, here is the link!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/beebeesblogstore" target="_blank">www.zazzle.com/beebeesblogstore</a><br />
<br />
Go crazy!<br />
<br />
Also, my sister shared with me an incredible art blog that you all should check out here: <a href="http://johnkenn.blogspot.com/">http://johnkenn.blogspot.com/</a>. I completely adore his art, creativity, and ability. Even though it's totally creepy, I am completely inspired by it. Wow.<br />
<br />
OK.<br />
<br />
Peace out home dawgsBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-20052275244626457502012-05-12T15:50:00.002-06:002012-05-12T15:50:25.876-06:00I AM A WINNER!I love sleepless nights when I find random people on the internet who are just as weird and potentially unstable as me! That's why I am going to 1. Thank <a href="http://www.woodntyaknowit.blogspot.com/">woody</a> for presenting me with such a prestigious award and 2. Award this award to another award-worthy blog. I know this is long overdue; luckily there aren't fees for overdue award-giving like there are for overdue library books.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dZw3o6M5AXg/T6YEdlv4AFI/AAAAAAAAATc/iZRU-IOzRMg/s1600/leibster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dZw3o6M5AXg/T6YEdlv4AFI/AAAAAAAAATc/iZRU-IOzRMg/s1600/leibster.png" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
YAY I feel so loved. I have absolutely no idea what this is for. As far as I know it could be for the most pathetic blog that still has followers, or the blog that has unnecessary "awesomes" written all over the page, but I am going to make a positive assumption that it is really for the coolest blog ever that has yet to be discovered by the masses.<br />
<br />
Just looked it up, and I am SO right on the mark.<br />
<br />
<br />
When I went to see who I followed who seemed to fit in this category, I honestly had a hard time with it. Most of my favorite blogs are people who have at least 1,000 followers. I need to get out there! I need to meet new people! Living in the realm of the internet is anti-social enough, I need to be social in my world of anti-social!<br />
<br />
Anyway, I decided to award this award to just one blog, which is Leauxra's blog at <a href="http://www.doesthismakemybloglookfat.blogspot.com/">www.doesthismakemybloglookfat.blogspot.com</a>. She's pretty awesome due to the fact that she enjoys writing about trolls and such, lives in the beautiful state of Colorado just like me, and likes drawing comics. I love the way she writes and tells stories... you should all check her out!<br />
<br />
CONGRATS LEAUXRA!<br />
<br />
P.S. I turn to you, trusty followers. Any advice on some fantastic blogs flying under the radar? I will greatly appreciate it!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-46664991804456992092012-05-08T21:17:00.000-06:002012-05-08T22:15:27.681-06:00Future HusbandsFunnily enough, my writing skills increase exponentially when I am exhausted, which is why I am writing this post when my brain hurts, my eyes are blurry, and all I want to do is catapult myself into a full-on coma. <i>It's all for you.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
As a teenage girl, I have a tendency to have crushes on famous people. Just like any teenage girl.<br />
<br />
As a <i>completely off-the-wall </i>teenage girl, I also have a tendency to make long, unnecessary, slightly creepy lists of attractive men who I believe to be my future husbands. Sort of like a hit list, except much less foreboding. And a lot less dangerous. <i>Allegedly. </i><br />
<br />
It started with just one future husband... But then I started discovering more and more men that seemed worthy of my hand in marriage. Soon the list became exceedingly long. Considering most of these men are older than me... and I'm really not a fan of polygamy... I realize that this list is quite unnecessary, but as we all know, totally satisfying.<br />
<br />
So here's my list of future husbands.<br />
<br />
1. First place goes to the man that made me create this list: my darling Chris Martin, also known as the lead singer of Coldplay.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1WMSCvMFHHQ/T6iS_qY8hSI/AAAAAAAAATo/OlVK9NSqJDQ/s1600/Chris-Martin456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1WMSCvMFHHQ/T6iS_qY8hSI/AAAAAAAAATo/OlVK9NSqJDQ/s1600/Chris-Martin456.jpg" /></a></div>
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Other than his piercing blue eyes, stunning good looks, and heck-of-a-lot-of cash, Chris has an incredibly adorable way of making interviews hilariously funny with his weird-ass answers to normal questions. Like seriously, go look up Chris Martin interviews. I'm pretty sure that the reason he became my future husband was because I felt an oddly innate connection to him due to our similarly strange sense of humor. He is fairly odd. AND I LOVE IT.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, these things stand in my way:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KLU0njiD4UA/T6iZ_5p0CGI/AAAAAAAAAUE/x7ofQHLbtFM/s1600/chriswife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KLU0njiD4UA/T6iZ_5p0CGI/AAAAAAAAAUE/x7ofQHLbtFM/s320/chriswife.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Ugh. Wives and children are overrated. And those children... is it just me or are they <i>annoyingly</i> cute? I can just imagine their screechy little voices... "ehh i'm so cute and Chris Martin-y, and my dad can write a #1 hit song in the McDonald's drive-thru... ehh my life is perfect ehhh"<br />
<br />
Psh, who needs that, Chris Martin?<br />
<br />
What you do need, on the other hand, is ME.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
Number two on the hot list (Get it? Hit list, hot list...?) is....<br />
Danny O'Donoghue!! (Lead singer of The Script)<br />
<br />
Ah.. his name is so freaking adorable. I need not go on. But I will, because his face is even adorable-er.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qm3ZwnTVIOg/T6ianPrs0VI/AAAAAAAAAUM/P6qnGBJNyYk/s1600/Danny-ODonoghue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qm3ZwnTVIOg/T6ianPrs0VI/AAAAAAAAAUM/P6qnGBJNyYk/s320/Danny-ODonoghue.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I sense an interesting pattern: European lead-singers for famous bands.<br />
<br />
But gosh he's so darn cute and <i>Irish</i>.<br />
<br />
He makes me want to squeeze kittens and sing in sob-screaming soprano to his deep, heartfelt love songs.<br />
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<br />
Ok three.<br />
<i>BEN AFFLECK.</i><br />
I put that in italics and all-caps because his name must be said in a whispery, sensual manner each time it is spoken. <i>BEN AFFLECK. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
And when you say his name you have to make this face:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BL_oR-HVB0Y/T6nWUu9fX8I/AAAAAAAAAWM/P4fKVDryrlQ/s1600/creepface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BL_oR-HVB0Y/T6nWUu9fX8I/AAAAAAAAAWM/P4fKVDryrlQ/s400/creepface.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>"BEN AFFLECK"</i></div>
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
And imagine this man:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oQ_kRqU9ZuU/T6iffcPo_9I/AAAAAAAAAUY/ZpC-vNHElLE/s1600/Ben_Affleck_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oQ_kRqU9ZuU/T6iffcPo_9I/AAAAAAAAAUY/ZpC-vNHElLE/s320/Ben_Affleck_4.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
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<br />
<i>BEN AFFLECK</i> is just hot. Really that's why he's on the list. Not every man can pull off such a look. Tyra Banks would be proud of his professional smise.<br />
<br />
<i>BEN AFFLECK</i> also has a wife and a handful of kids, but I've come to terms with the fact that my future husband will possibly/most likely have wives and children hanging about. That does not make me any less determined to continue with my plan. The more the merrier! In fact, I'll just sleep in the basement. Alone. Squeezing my cats. Being the third wheel ain't <i>that </i>bad...<br />
<br />
Next on the list...<br />
four...<br />
<br />
Jesse Williams.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZByrMs_YHAU/T6ijQyi0xZI/AAAAAAAAAUk/dOFHC2-1DRE/s1600/Jesse-Williams-Finnick-Odair-Catching-Fire-Casting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZByrMs_YHAU/T6ijQyi0xZI/AAAAAAAAAUk/dOFHC2-1DRE/s320/Jesse-Williams-Finnick-Odair-Catching-Fire-Casting.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
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<br />
What's cookin', good lookin'?<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure if I ever met Jesse Williams and used that pick-up line, I would immediately be shot down by his blue smising glare.<br />
<br />
I wish I was your coronary artery, so I could be wrapped around your heart.<br />
<br />
No? That doesn't work either? Ok.<br />
<br />
Well, other than the fact that this beautiful hunk of man-meat plays a starring doctor on my favorite TV show of the century "Grey's Anatomy," he <i>also </i>used to be a high school teacher.<br />
<br />
Yes, I said it. <i>A high school teacher.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
This would be me in his class:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cpiw6I3DVpY/T6nblq4E--I/AAAAAAAAAWs/Zj8fniKMFA0/s1600/hotteacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cpiw6I3DVpY/T6nblq4E--I/AAAAAAAAAWs/Zj8fniKMFA0/s640/hotteacher.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was trying to say "you're hot" but your hotness distracted me.<br />
<br />
Are you a library card? Because I'd like to check you out.<br />
<br />
No? No good? Ok.<br />
<br />
Five.<br />
<br />
Dave Welsh.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCF3EXfv5IE/T6ioUKxMXWI/AAAAAAAAAUw/vdotysnx3Mw/s1600/fray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCF3EXfv5IE/T6ioUKxMXWI/AAAAAAAAAUw/vdotysnx3Mw/s400/fray.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Although I would totally marry all four of these guys at the same time, I'm specifically talking about Dave, the one on the far right. Mainly because he is an epic guitarist of the Fray and he can ROCK that orange hat and indie glasses.<br />
<br />
Considering I also rock glasses of this caliber of awesomeness (the word "rock" is questionable, but "attempt to pull off" definitely fits) I am totally prepared to not only be his loving wife, but also match his every outfit. We'll be like twins.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qlSFTPHVTkI/T6naEamnF8I/AAAAAAAAAWc/9asLIhEyF0o/s1600/davewelshtwin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qlSFTPHVTkI/T6naEamnF8I/AAAAAAAAAWc/9asLIhEyF0o/s320/davewelshtwin.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>
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<i>I love you Dave Welsh...</i></div>
<i><br /></i><br />
Six.<br />
Ok this is going to come as a surprise considering the long line of soulful musicians, but the next man on the list is <i>totally...</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
VERNON DAVIS.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uhtdbvd8Spk/T6ipurn0CDI/AAAAAAAAAU4/iAJa9p5ZGIU/s1600/vernon_davis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uhtdbvd8Spk/T6ipurn0CDI/AAAAAAAAAU4/iAJa9p5ZGIU/s320/vernon_davis.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
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Wow. What an epic photo. Even <i>he </i>probably thinks he's a hunk.<br />
<br />
Ok, I admit that football players aren't usually my type, but this man right here is. Why, you may ask?<br />
Because when I was reluctantly watching football with my dad last year, I witnessed a beautiful moment when Vernon began crying like a baby after catching a winning touchdown.<br />
<br />
He cried like this:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HlOL1Klnguk/T6iqtZhNOiI/AAAAAAAAAVA/CUnvKQTua9A/s1600/vernon-davis-crying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HlOL1Klnguk/T6iqtZhNOiI/AAAAAAAAAVA/CUnvKQTua9A/s320/vernon-davis-crying.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And hugged his coach like this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MRfDbCo14PY/T6irAriaVOI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/3M0YX44HQT8/s1600/tumblr_lxtpufM30u1qfgi90o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MRfDbCo14PY/T6irAriaVOI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/3M0YX44HQT8/s320/tumblr_lxtpufM30u1qfgi90o1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As I sat there like this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyrQVTDTAoI/T6nbNvfpbbI/AAAAAAAAAWk/RmPnjfMKs4E/s1600/vernoncryin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyrQVTDTAoI/T6nbNvfpbbI/AAAAAAAAAWk/RmPnjfMKs4E/s640/vernoncryin.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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<br />
Dear Vernon,<br />
Be my hubby, you sensitive, teddy-bear man.<br />
Love,<br />
Your Fellow Crier<br />
<br />
We will have super sensitive children together.<br />
<br />
And thus, we are brought to my final future husband,<br />
<br />
Marko.<br />
<br />
Who knows what his last name is, but who really cares?<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUjfPeHPq8k/T6isJrdThRI/AAAAAAAAAVY/lrMdw32156o/s1600/MarkoSYTYCD.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUjfPeHPq8k/T6isJrdThRI/AAAAAAAAAVY/lrMdw32156o/s320/MarkoSYTYCD.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Star dancer on "So You Think You Can Dance," Marko is probably the cutest man to ever set foot on the dancing stage.<br />
<br />
And he was really cute when he kissed his partner:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0v44C5BToJc/T6is9cdnrzI/AAAAAAAAAVg/wcsec7_rmWM/s1600/realityrocks-5878428-1309423105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0v44C5BToJc/T6is9cdnrzI/AAAAAAAAAVg/wcsec7_rmWM/s320/realityrocks-5878428-1309423105.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>
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<br />
And he's sort of epic.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzxigiKr640/T6itekO02LI/AAAAAAAAAVo/hkAx3E_363k/s1600/aug10sytycd7-46832522906645124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzxigiKr640/T6itekO02LI/AAAAAAAAAVo/hkAx3E_363k/s320/aug10sytycd7-46832522906645124.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I WILL DANCE WITH YOU MARKO<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-viItZsht3nE/T6ncS9L5DcI/AAAAAAAAAW0/KKbvvUJNv5E/s1600/uglydancing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-viItZsht3nE/T6ncS9L5DcI/AAAAAAAAAW0/KKbvvUJNv5E/s320/uglydancing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Somehow I don't think I would look as cool.<br />
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<br /></div>Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-77868273014635546002012-05-05T18:08:00.000-06:002012-05-05T18:08:21.762-06:00"Journey of Hope"A little different post than usual; here's a graphic novel that I wrote! Hope you enjoy!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUn-QcAbBjs/T6W_BOSW9_I/AAAAAAAAASY/8RFaTPVio_k/s1600/graphicn1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="491" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUn-QcAbBjs/T6W_BOSW9_I/AAAAAAAAASY/8RFaTPVio_k/s640/graphicn1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2V67Znd1j6g/T6XAGcNePPI/AAAAAAAAATA/J9o5hhQDz3o/s1600/graphicn6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" mea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2V67Znd1j6g/T6XAGcNePPI/AAAAAAAAATA/J9o5hhQDz3o/s640/graphicn6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-72549295210704067932012-02-23T20:21:00.000-07:002012-02-23T20:28:20.237-07:00Wolves are taking over.Hello all!<br />
<br />
So, it's the second day of our little happiness challenge! How are you all holding up?<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, I have not missed Facebook a bit. "Sweets" on the other hand, have been more of a challenge, mainly because I had a hard time figuring out what is <i>truly defined </i>as a "sweet." I kept pulling things out from the fridge and asking my mom, "Does orange juice count? What about yogurt? Can I eat granola bars?" I finally decided that I'm <i>not </i>trying to cut ALL sugar from my diet, just desserts. So, if I look at the item and decide "<i>Yes I would eat that for dessert," </i>then I don't eat it. Everything else is just fine to eat.<br />
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On another note, <i>looky here!</i><br />
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It's a wolf shirt. And not just any wolf shirt. It's <i>my </i>wolf shirt.</div>
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When I wanted to buy it, my mom and I had a bit of a disagreement.</div>
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Me: "Hey mom, do you mind if I use your credit card on Amazon to buy something?"</div>
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Mom: "What is it?"</div>
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Me: "An awesome wolf shirt."</div>
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Mom: *<i>looks* </i>You have <i>got </i>to be kidding me.</div>
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Me: What! No, I'm serious! Look, read the reviews.</div>
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Mom: *<i>reads* </i></div>
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<i>Real customer reviews by real customers:</i></div>
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<i>"</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">It is almost blasphemic to use mortal words to describe this garment. A product that carries within it the power of not one, but three times the wolf intensity. I purchased this shirt (legally must be called so, although it more closely resembles armor) after months of debating how to survive taking tank rounds to the chest. Once equipped with this modern day chain-mail, I slammed a Rockstar and was well on my way to becoming more creature than man. I bolted out the door leaving a trail of fire and wolf fibers behind me as I was ready to take on any challenge the world threw my way." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">"Since adorning this garment a fateful two days ago my life has undergone a remarkable metamorphosis. I have grown by three foot, attained a heightened sense of smell, sprouted a silvery mane, accurately charted the position stars, navigated long distances underwater, experienced emotions far greater than what I had wrongly assumed to be happiness, learnt to read, eaten a cat, and successfully eluded its owner. Basically I cannot recommend this thing enough."</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(I'm not kidding. These are real reviews. Like, no joke. Go look for yourself)</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mom: You realize that they are being sarcastic... because that shirt is awful, right?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Me: Mom! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mom: I am not letting you buy that on my account. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Me: Mo-om!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mom: Go ask your dad for his credit card.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Me: <i>Mo-o-om!</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then I went and showed my dad and he seemed much more enthusiastic, although his only concern was, "what's on the back?"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Mooore wolves, father. Many more wolves.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ANYWAY, I'm procrastinating (or rather, warming up) for an essay that I have to write about Irish history. It's been a while since I've written an essay like this so I thought I'd get my creative juices flowing by writing on my blog. Unfortunately, I don't think wolves will be a very good choice of topic...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wish me luck!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<i><br /></i>Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-85728620191495214622012-02-21T20:27:00.003-07:002012-02-21T20:30:31.906-07:00A challenge for you.OK, serious post.<br />
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I was reading Seventeen Magazine the other day, and I came across an interesting article. The article was all about how to be happier as a teenage girl. I know a lot of you are not teenage girls, so you might think this post does not pertain to you, but I think most of their ideas are universal. There were two things that they said to give up immediately in order to make yourself feel better: Facebook and sweets. <br />
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It comes as no surprise to me that these are on the list of things that make people feel unhappy. <br />
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I know very well that sweets are the devil in disguise. They can make you feel good in the moment, but a lot of the time the only feeling that lasts after eating sweets is guilt and grossness. <br />
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I've talked to my friends before about how stressful it gets to read about other people's seemingly "perfect" and "happy" lives on Facebook and compare yourself to their oh-so-sexy, I-just-spent-a-week-sitting-on-the-beach-getting-my-tan-on-while-you-were-stuck-at-home-and-even-if-you-were-here-you-would-just-be-a-red-tomato pictures; but I never followed through with deleting my Facebook because I was worried that my relatives in other countries and friends who had moved state would be angry at me for losing touch. But something about reading about these two things in this article made me suddenly think, "GAME ON." If people want to stay in touch, then they can call me or text me, and I will do the same. Not having a Facebook is a pretty lame excuse for losing a friendship, so I'm not letting that hold me back.<br />
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It's Lent season, and if any of you out there are religious, this might be the perfect time for you to take on such a challenge with me. Let's try quitting Facebook and sweets for a few weeks. If anything at all, we can think of it as an experiment. There's really nothing to lose: either you end the challenge and you feel happier, or you end the challenge and you go back to your old ways. Who knows, this could be a very liberating experience!<br />
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I know personally that I have pretty much no restraint. I pretend to restrain myself from certain activities, but usually that lasts for about a day and then I reward myself by letting myself do whatever it was that I was trying to quit.... *<i>sigh* </i>so illogical. It's a vicious cycle.<br />
But anyway, this time I am really going to try. I'll keep you guys updated on my progress, and hopefully a few of you will take on the challenge with me.<br />
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So, who's in?<br />
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Here are some inspirational photos:<br />
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LET'S DO THIS</div>
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I ALWAYS WIN</div>
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<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-13695414684034028322012-02-20T21:05:00.000-07:002012-02-21T14:59:54.561-07:00Hamlet is a Zombie. Or something...This isn't an actual post. Just warning you.<br />
I have a big, huge, horrible, final, large, giant, annoying, what-i've-been-working-towards-my-entire-life-exam on Monday, so I really don't have the time for my blog at the moment, however, I had to share with you this crazy discovery I made. A few months back I did a guest post on Tara's blog: greeneyedopinions.blogspot.com.<br />
The post was slightly random and definitely insane, and when I was going back through old posts, I reread it and thought that it was worth posting again on this blog, too, so I'll copy and paste it at the end of this post.<br />
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BUT before I allow you to read it, I just have to say the point of this post, which is: I'M A GENIUS.<br />
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After you read this post, you will see that I came up with a genius idea about putting ZOMBIES in HAMLET, which my friend, to my dismay, told me was a stupid idea. WELL, I found out the other day that there is a MOVIE called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1778940/">"Zombie Hamlet"</a> that is due to come out <i>this year </i>and it's <i>all about zombies and Hamlet. </i>If only my friend had not stifled my dream, I could have copyrighted that genius proposal and sent it off to some fabulous movie producer who would have surely created a feature film.<br />
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What is it they say? Something about there being a fine line between insanity and genius? BAM.<br />
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(P.S. There is quite a strong possibility that this movie is a complete joke.)<br />
(P.P.S. The possibility is strong enough to be definite. In other words this movie is definitely a joke. Because it was supposed to come out last year.)<br />
(P.P.P.S. The definite possibility of this movie being a complete joke does not change the fact that I am a genius.)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hamlet, the Zombie Version</span><br />
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This is an exact replica of the conversation I had with my friend about me writing a guest post:</div>
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Me: Hey, guess what? I'm writing a guest post!</div>
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Friend: Cool, what are you going to write about?</div>
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Me: I was considering doing a reenactment of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" except everyone who dies will come back as zombies at the end and kill everyone else and then I was thinking I would add a philosophical debate at the end of my post about why reading about zombie attacks would be so much more entertaining and educational than reading about a boring murder and then finish off with a logical list of why school systems suck.</div>
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Friend: Um... well... maybe you should try something a little less... complicated?</div>
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Me: Yeah, you're right. I don't want to discriminate against people who have never read Hamlet and have no idea what I am talking about. Ok, my second idea is to set up a battle between a mermaid and a centaur and list all of the different attributes that would make one or the other win.</div>
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Friend: Ok... well, I was just thinking maybe you should do something a little more... sane? No one will follow your blog if they think you're crazy.</div>
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Me: ExcUSE me? I beg to differ. (About the people-not-reading-my-blog-because-I'm-insane part, not the I-am-insane part. That part's true.)</div>
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Actually, she kind of has a point considering the blog that I'm writing for, "Green-Eyed Opinions" happens to be incredibly awesome and also incredibly normal and I don't think I've ever seen Tara write about zombies or battles between imaginary creatures, so her readers probably will be very confused and may get angry that they're reading such nonsense on a blog that they expect to be nonsense-less. So now I have to think of something <i>normal </i>to write, which doesn't come easily for me, believe me, considering <i>I spend my life coming up with weird battle scenarios, </i>and that is the opposite of normal. Well, I've hit a wall. I have writer's block. What do normal people write about? I can't even think of an idea.</div>
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Ok, I just looked up "what do normal people blog about?" on Google and it came up with a lot of random sites about wine-drinking and mountain-climbing that had nothing to do with my original search and that's why search engines suck. Unless it's trying to hint at the fact that wine-drinking and rock-climbing are awesome things to blog about, but <i>I don't think so. </i>One site did give me a straight answer, and that was "their lives".</div>
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Well that didn't work, considering it <i>brought me back to where I started. </i> I spend my life coming up with weird battle scenarios, PEOPLE.</div>
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So I've decided to return to one of my original ideas. I hope you like it, but if you are scared off by my insanity, all I have to say is... BLAME GOOGLE.</div>
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EPIC BATTLE BETWEEN CENTAUR AND MERMAID. WHO WILL WIN??????</div>
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So as I was drawing this, I realized how silly this battle scenario is for two reasons: first of all, mermaids are known for their peaceful personalities so they would probably never battle anything. And second of all, mermaids have freaking TAILS. So I don't think they stand a chance against something that has four legs that all have sharp hooves attached to the ends of them plus two arms that have spears attached to them. That's like three times the amount of limbs and 100% more weapons.</div>
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So, the centaur wins. No question.</div>
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<i><br /></i>Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-1589563955255372752012-01-15T16:41:00.002-07:002012-01-15T16:41:29.094-07:00Short Attention Span.The other day I was studying for a math test, when suddenly, without warning, I realized I was on Facebook.<br />
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It made me think. There are many instances when I <i>intend </i>to do one thing, but end up doing something completely different.<br />
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For example, sometimes I decide to go downstairs to get something to help me study. Let's say I need a stapler, or some other similarly vital piece of office supplies. I walk downstairs, expecting to go grab the stapler and then run back up to my room to continue studying.<br />
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All of a sudden, I realize that I'm<br />
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Another one that I do sometimes happens during school. My teacher begins saying something that is extremely vital knowledge. I realize almost immediately that I NEED to hear this. In order to pass the class, this information <i>must be stored in my long term memory. </i>I have to pay really close attention. Much closer attention than I do normally, even closer than when I'm actually interested in what my teacher is saying. If I don't hear this information, I don't know what I'll do. I might as well drop out of school.<br />
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Suddenly, I realize<br />
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I was spending so much time thinking about how important it was to pay attention, that I forgot to pay attention.<br />
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I also struggle with this when I go to the super market. I prepare my list ahead of time, knowing that I really need to be focused so I can make it a quick shopping trip. I write down the vital groceries that I desperately need, and prepare for my adventure.<br />
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Suddenly,<br />
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This is a problem that I've had to deal with for as long as I can remember. My attention span never graduated the fifth grade. At times, it can be slightly entertaining. Sometimes I ask myself, where did <i>that </i>come from, brain? And I laugh at my randomness. At other times, however, it can get frustratingly annoying. For example, I'll begin saying something, a thought that I had that seems extremely exciting, and then all of a sudden,<br />
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OH MY GOSH I need to tell you something.<br />
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OCTOPOCALYPSE 2012.<br />
Did you know octopuses could walk on land, and they have beaks?<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Co-5HZ_061M/TxNiqPScaJI/AAAAAAAAASA/nzm7d8zF4I0/s1600/octopus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="459" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Co-5HZ_061M/TxNiqPScaJI/AAAAAAAAASA/nzm7d8zF4I0/s640/octopus.jpg" width="640" /></a>THEY ARE PLANNING THEIR ATTACK. BE PREPARED. BUY SOME HARPOONS.Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-55807274838981484072012-01-02T19:04:00.000-07:002012-01-03T13:49:19.815-07:00Why New Year's resolutions fail.Just like 2/3 of the world, I made a New Year's resolution to exercise and get fit. I used to run quite a few times per week, but the huge amount of food that was idly sitting around my house during the holidays held me hostage in my own home for two months. <i>Oh, pity me.</i><br />
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The other 1/3 of the world resolved to become fatter. I think. Isn't that how fractions work?<br />
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I started my resolution by getting really psyched for an amazing run that I was about to CONQUER. I put on my <i>neon yellow</i> running jacket (that I once found on the side of the road, I think a biker must have dropped it. But it was too ugly and expensive-looking to throw out, so I kept it. But that's another story), my black runner leggings, and my purple leopard-print ear muffs, and began my run. <br />
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At first, I was feeling gooood. I saw a few other New Year's resolutions running by, and we waved to each other, knowing perfectly well what the other was thinking. <br />
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I decided to do my favorite run, the one I did almost every time I went running before my two month "cake-break." This run meanders through a beautiful area in the open-space right behind my house where a little trail runs through some pretty fields and up a hill, where there is a perfect view of the mountains. I have always loved this run, and the cold air felt very fresh and reviving.<br />
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As I began to run into the open-space, the cold air slowly began to hurt a little. I don't know if you've ever experienced running in the cold, but it hurts. The cold air cuts at your throat and freezes your lungs so that your stamina plummets and you just wish you could quit breathing. But you can't quit breathing, because you need to breathe to live, so another breath comes, like, every second, which makes it even worse, because you really want the air but you really don't want the pain, so suddenly you are in a hopeless, never-ending circle of trying to get air into your system without breathing. So your breathing becomes erattic and irregular. And then<i> </i>your stamina becomes <i>even worse.</i><br />
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I tried to ignore the fact that my throat was freezing off, but suddenly I ran into <i>yet another obstacle. </i>I completely forgot that there had been snow on the ground <i>just a few days ago. </i>The ground was MUD. Pure mud. And by pure mud, I mean... well, mud. <br />
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I tried to run through the mud, but it started sticking to my shoes. Suddenly my feet were extremely heavy and I felt like I was running in moon shoes.<br />
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Reality:<br />
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What it felt like:<br />
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Wait. Now that I think about it, running in moon shoes would be really fun. So it actually was nothing like running in moon shoes.<br />
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Anyway, to make a long story short, I walked the next mile through the slippery muck until I got out of the open-space. Then I spent the next five minutes getting the majority of the caked-on mud off of the bottom of my shoes. Then I ran the rest of the way home. Then I tried desperately to get the rest of the mud off using a hose, to no avail.<br />
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So here I am, with soaking wet, muddy sneakers and a sore throat, wondering where this beautiful New Year's resolution went wrong. I've decided that someone, somewhere is trying to tell me something. Either I need to start running on pavement, or I need to become part of the 1/3 and resolve to eat more and become fat.<br />
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And this is why New Year's resolutions fail. So if you are out there, feeling negative about your resolution or becoming fit, the truth is, sometimes we're all a lot happier eating cookies in front of the TV.<br />
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<br />Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4384650457233456289.post-25922267513843121912012-01-01T14:17:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:05:34.341-07:00Bucket List?<br />
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I was looking at an article <a href="http://www.dietgirl.org/dietgirl/2008/08/8-things-to-d-1.html">here</a> about what <a href="http://www.dietgirl.org/dietgirl/">this blogger</a> wants to do before she "kicks the tin." It got me thinking. What do <i>I </i>want to do before I die? Or should I say, before I become an old woman and spend all hours of the day eating french bread dipped in olive oil over my knitting and refusing to speak to a living soul except my dog? </div>
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So this is the list I came up with. It slowly transformed from a "bucket" list to a "things I've always secretly wanted to do but didn't tell anyone about because my reasons were questionable" list. But I'm telling you now! </div>
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<b>List of Awesomeness</b></div>
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(<i>Things I secretly want to complete before I get old and fat)</i></div>
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1. Skydive.</div>
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2. Sit on a mattress and slide down the stairs. <i>Multiple times.</i></div>
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3. Make a baked good for someone randomly.</div>
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4. Eat a spoonful of wasabi. <i>I've just always been curious about what it would feel like, ok?</i></div>
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5. Go on a random road trip with a friend. <i> Across Canada</i>.</div>
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6. Change my personality for a day to see how people react.</div>
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7. Wear <a href="http://www.househaunters.com/images/products/gorilla-costume-1.jpg">this costume</a>. <i>And go grocery shopping in it.</i></div>
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8. Write a letter to a famous person and get a response.</div>
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9. Create a Wikipedia page for myself.</div>
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10. Have someone else create a Wikipedia page for me.</div>
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11. Go to an ice cream store and order the most extravagant desert on the menu and <i>eat the entire thing without any guilt.</i></div>
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12. Watch all eight Harry Potter movies in a row.</div>
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13. Watch The Shining. <i>I don't have the guts to do it right now.</i></div>
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14. Throw up after working out. <i>It would be cool to tell people afterwards.</i></div>
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15. Eat something really odd or disgusting. <i>The most interesting thing I've eaten to date is sushi.</i></div>
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16. Meet a mermaid.</div>
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17. <i>Become a mermaid.</i></div>
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18. Win a contest. <i>The lottery would work just fine.</i></div>
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19. Throw a surprise party.</div>
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20. Find a puppy. <i>Or a kitten. A kitten would do fine.</i></div>
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So, what's on your list?</div>Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07031979976087752452noreply@blogger.com4