tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55686471733020651702024-03-12T21:23:43.615-06:00Eyes In My HeadUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-59226111827546178642010-03-17T22:58:00.000-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.041-06:00Follow your own path<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2hEe4Asn8-1Jua4OVcCZTRwacn1u6S57SmjODpYUBN6ykA3XyvMs1ahilbazeq_dQUG7UryShuLTe45Q-dR8PpwIYXyrKbz4Q2uzr8obXu7z-1aq8snXhzHoEAsluEaAaL1xMN94JRY/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450013639839213138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2hEe4Asn8-1Jua4OVcCZTRwacn1u6S57SmjODpYUBN6ykA3XyvMs1ahilbazeq_dQUG7UryShuLTe45Q-dR8PpwIYXyrKbz4Q2uzr8obXu7z-1aq8snXhzHoEAsluEaAaL1xMN94JRY/s320/Picture.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> I've been struggling with anxiety and fear lately. I just have so many questions and so many life decisions that I'm making right now and I guess I've been letting the pressure of it all get to me a little. Sometimes I wish that I had arms that were stronger than mine to crawl into and feel safe for a moment, someone to bounce my ideas off of, but I don't. I'm not even sure that I would know how to let myself do that if I did. I just know that it is taking every bit of strength that I have not to bury my head in the sand and escape - to not just let everything fall apart around me. However, this is all causing me to dig very deeply and I think that is always a good thing and maybe even the purpose of this part of my journey.<br />
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Carl Jung called it the Individuation Process - where one must dig deep into their own psyche and carve out their own beliefs and convictions about themselves, their god and their life. This process happens not just once in life but throughout life. Joseph Campbell talks about "Crossing Thresholds" from the old person and life into the new person and life, believing that the unwillingness of a person to cross these thresholds is what causes a person to become neurotic. In ancient India (and maybe now, I don't know) the person having crossed over an emotional, intellectual or spiritual threshold will change the way that they dress to outwardly express the changes that have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurred</span> within. Then there are The Arthurian Romances with the definite theme of following ones own path. A belief was fostered through these stories that if you were on a path and realized that someone else had already taken this exact path, then you were not on your own path at all and needed to change course in order to live authentically. Ah ... the idea of truly living authentically is romantic is it not? And what a lovely ideal to hold. I'm learning that it has its price but in the end I believe it will have been worth it.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-91327172307548370492010-02-22T19:23:00.000-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.059-06:00I should be doing homework but . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7ytsMFfJ2SJ4hdTEURrCtyT5rJd5ySuz_0QLQQuQSe9Wg8sNUuGv7xnLpXtxO7CrBXWx24MxKZw-ZC0d1rjzrJyv3L05wDtVb_p5eDSuqf6oa430c8JmM-hSxPbSbsCMdRzTLoMZdpg/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442407688639717954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7ytsMFfJ2SJ4hdTEURrCtyT5rJd5ySuz_0QLQQuQSe9Wg8sNUuGv7xnLpXtxO7CrBXWx24MxKZw-ZC0d1rjzrJyv3L05wDtVb_p5eDSuqf6oa430c8JmM-hSxPbSbsCMdRzTLoMZdpg/s320/Picture.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sometimes</span> I wonder if I will die old and alone in this apartment. It's not so much a fear as it is a thought that I find myself pondering from time to time. I imagine how this place would look after living in it for the next fifty years. I've always related to that reclusive <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">character</span> in stories. You know the off the wall hermit who is never understood in their own time but decades or centuries later even, after all of their journals are read, is considered to be a genius or the ultimate visionary? A woman needs her dreams. Anyway, between the book that I am reading about the the role that our consciousness plays in the universe and the passing of a dear family friend, my mind has been preoccupied with questions about life and death - mostly death. Not just the average inquisitive questions but the kind that take all of your beliefs and turn them upside down and inside out. I actually enjoy this process, for the most part. It keeps me on my toes and helps me to understand things. Some people may believe that asking peculiar questions and seeking out their answers is the same as lacking faith, but I think that just the opposite of that is true. How else can you understand the arcane without diving straight into the unknown and finding your own answers to your own questions? Doesn't that actually take faith? Our minds are so amazing, why would anyone settle for a blanket answer to life's toughest questions and why would they fear any theory or fact for that matter?<br />
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On a lighter note, after a year of keeping myself "off the market" (I really hate that term) I'm definitely ready to start dating again . . . definitely. It has become increasingly obvious that I have way too much time on my hands.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-37531946292272964452010-01-23T15:39:00.009-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.033-06:00birthday LOVE<div align="center">I had an impromptu birthday celebration on Wednesday night. Three of my girlfriends and I met downtown at <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.evaslc.com">Eva's</a> for dinner.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIdi7CV4h6X3xfsOT-vvmyBcIvpJyVKRkj1KZvtu6KprJoU0Fev3Bcs76Upupf5ckvBf-B7vsuVIVLB-8cydFUit8IjAwzKhpQVhUydBLNc8AN-uB1_3LGrFQ60AyJ8I6fzLpwnCjNiM/s1600-h/Picture+014.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430071367306277634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIdi7CV4h6X3xfsOT-vvmyBcIvpJyVKRkj1KZvtu6KprJoU0Fev3Bcs76Upupf5ckvBf-B7vsuVIVLB-8cydFUit8IjAwzKhpQVhUydBLNc8AN-uB1_3LGrFQ60AyJ8I6fzLpwnCjNiM/s320/Picture+014.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> (Christina & Shae)<br /></span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCXzxEMPFiFc1PvEj7D67aclfOIoby38JMvja5AsgAJLS-Utsk376M2egRmA9Kq6-sc-ccThUhwhm-TlrtOHRiGbSHoO1IMeqbt74-saLjc-OUKpt9T1sOekt3NoiTlgbRaUliTpYjds/s1600-h/David+Williams.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430070903159996194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCXzxEMPFiFc1PvEj7D67aclfOIoby38JMvja5AsgAJLS-Utsk376M2egRmA9Kq6-sc-ccThUhwhm-TlrtOHRiGbSHoO1IMeqbt74-saLjc-OUKpt9T1sOekt3NoiTlgbRaUliTpYjds/s320/David+Williams.jpg" /></a><br /><br />We ordered and shared several different tapas plates while listening to my new favorite local musician, <a href="http://www.myspace.com/daviwilliams">David Williams</a>. A couple of us had been wanting to try this restaurant for awhile and finding out that David plays on Wednesday nights sealed the deal. At least it did for me! </p><p></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jcwdSQsYrDFfVHEQz6P8t6_XG89y7-3DUajAGi_iaWywVXdm6O4PgQZ5ulSCU2fhAnZqNkIIhEgfgpz965Sw2ymFfwOiTkAIyDOhX0xfysQRhk4a3Ssw7yDX5Hk74sUFp3hqIaygrX8/s1600-h/Picture+012.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430070509751435970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jcwdSQsYrDFfVHEQz6P8t6_XG89y7-3DUajAGi_iaWywVXdm6O4PgQZ5ulSCU2fhAnZqNkIIhEgfgpz965Sw2ymFfwOiTkAIyDOhX0xfysQRhk4a3Ssw7yDX5Hk74sUFp3hqIaygrX8/s320/Picture+012.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> (me - apparently I looked as tired as I felt.)</span></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I was completely surprised by this gift from Christina and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Steph</span>. Christina knew this was one of my favorite of <a href="http://www.stephparke.com/"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Steph's</span></a> photographs and Steph framed it and even presented it with a bow. Which she kindly retied so that I could take this picture. I want to fill the wall of the entryway with nice photographs. Now I have a starting point.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-q1bXX-O06GMe1lsVx6S_YaOGdrGhQMyK14hACqSWL-resx7fTi5kZSnO1BVd1fEnHO6G3950wTVDWvvTD6qsVKUPeVKi1RvegUu-UBuiMU4s3ztjvrUwyjKKIGwO37wa2t-GC461F8/s1600-h/Picture+028.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430070013295040482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-q1bXX-O06GMe1lsVx6S_YaOGdrGhQMyK14hACqSWL-resx7fTi5kZSnO1BVd1fEnHO6G3950wTVDWvvTD6qsVKUPeVKi1RvegUu-UBuiMU4s3ztjvrUwyjKKIGwO37wa2t-GC461F8/s320/Picture+028.jpg" /></a>My friend <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Natali</span> couldn't make it to dinner but she had this work of art waiting for me at the coffee shop. It's "The Hermit" from the tarot. She chose it because I'm a little homebody. Her friend wood burned it and then painted it. The detail she uses is amazing.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzuRjOGgK4tv41n4z3pqfNvlKAWMZVBuAf493h5ygZnNCXjOJpEVI9G1v2NBnPiEg8-qj58dabNcmhK1IAm4HzPZjIR99-USfWxk8_b-DQHIqe8APqmZueSG4mt4VHin9l9SQO2I4tMg/s1600-h/Picture+029.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430069370202270770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzuRjOGgK4tv41n4z3pqfNvlKAWMZVBuAf493h5ygZnNCXjOJpEVI9G1v2NBnPiEg8-qj58dabNcmhK1IAm4HzPZjIR99-USfWxk8_b-DQHIqe8APqmZueSG4mt4VHin9l9SQO2I4tMg/s320/Picture+029.jpg" /></a> What a wonderful birthday! I felt so appreciated and loved. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-35969435870332880182010-01-17T10:47:00.019-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.031-06:00Saturdays are for junk shoppingChristina picked me up yesterday morning and we went to breakfast at my favorite breakfast restaurant, The Park Cafe. They make the best <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Huevos</span></span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Rancheros</span></span></span> I have ever eaten. Homemade black beans and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">tastiest</span> breakfast potatoes in the state.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL98xeGRAZdM5G3ELK-fcBcIRpQEXDscCaQUVuocyiM_TmorSpNaPY719jG-qW0eYCWd9JcdVZdr2JtYYeKq5jZ_O7c3Va8UuaEx-Ndxl5VYih8WrVRmc1Xp3ttIPA9mWbWyFtmChMdM0/s1600-h/Picture+016.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427770916698843634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL98xeGRAZdM5G3ELK-fcBcIRpQEXDscCaQUVuocyiM_TmorSpNaPY719jG-qW0eYCWd9JcdVZdr2JtYYeKq5jZ_O7c3Va8UuaEx-Ndxl5VYih8WrVRmc1Xp3ttIPA9mWbWyFtmChMdM0/s320/Picture+016.jpg" /></a><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Afterward</span> we went junk shopping! We hit a couple of places but <a href="http://www.abode-abode.blogspot.com/">abode</a> was the first. This little place is right up the street from me. We are literally on the same street. I could walk there in about 10 minutes or less. It's small but it is packed full of treasures and the owner <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Mariam</span> is so friendly and welcoming.<a href="http://www.abode-abode.blogspot.com/"><br /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQZIFOSuCihZsahVCYFWAvE0LBcUV7VzQyrN3zQNglJfAzGd4fBs2jx2wgQYvajJsGpycE_aDmjcmDc8dbiEXu_PU7c_DgH0v3tKqdtpZ7eXjLtX6kgY55mnc5N1WcWYGcPlHoL41Obk/s1600-h/Picture+024.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427770407803557874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQZIFOSuCihZsahVCYFWAvE0LBcUV7VzQyrN3zQNglJfAzGd4fBs2jx2wgQYvajJsGpycE_aDmjcmDc8dbiEXu_PU7c_DgH0v3tKqdtpZ7eXjLtX6kgY55mnc5N1WcWYGcPlHoL41Obk/s320/Picture+024.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I found this <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">polka</span> dot <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">bulletin</span><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"> board</span> there and had to get it. I've been meaning to move my red desk from the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">living room</span> to the entryway and the new board gave me <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">incentive</span>. I can finally mark at least one decorating task off of my list. Next I'm painting the desk black and then distressing it. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The brothers came over later in the afternoon and worked on my car. I made a scrumptious dinner and salad (sorry <a href="http://www.collagecafe.blogspot.com/">Stacey</a>, no pictures of the food). We all ate, drank wine and laughed for the rest of the evening. Good times.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-32162811799382161912010-01-11T23:01:00.007-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.029-06:00Phew!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxusGscQiEunLj4ilAC3Uo3SoKP0W8dNcsjuCqf49yVSTZvQm6U9wjEbOcsF9mX36g_buHaMhIJYYrIXFDqsJuqDtrhqR2W4quez0dqLbtAbDqE6yl22oiZ-zQ5XJ34RxFBdr4507Gx1M/s1600-h/Picture+014.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426272266926116306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxusGscQiEunLj4ilAC3Uo3SoKP0W8dNcsjuCqf49yVSTZvQm6U9wjEbOcsF9mX36g_buHaMhIJYYrIXFDqsJuqDtrhqR2W4quez0dqLbtAbDqE6yl22oiZ-zQ5XJ34RxFBdr4507Gx1M/s320/Picture+014.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqg8zwU_FWXpeKqHTPSBvW_4HX5PumIkU8M6rwS2fcVN5KRNTIwvNzsAWcIKSXx1ItFb4E1Jiz1z_6oevzxFVoZbSH8iFmLyJGZg2t_kG6xDPy-RwP55b8vIfAImqb62uKyeLTEBmMOA/s1600-h/Picture+008.jpg"></a></div><div></div><div>Sometimes I feel like 2009 just kicked the tar out of me. I really am not sorry to see it go. I'm tired and I hope to God that my dreams and heart are reborn this year. I'm not the woman that I was before ... that's for sure. Growing is hard but I trust myself more than I ever have and that's important. ♥<br /></div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-55489787152562235902010-01-10T14:09:00.011-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.040-06:00A little decadence never hurt anybody<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLczKysk93TZqPGhvHir-xom0n-JimdHt9MkKZN70OaBgcHZgxg-qkLD-ei_C8F5458YwVHUl8lO0UZy7fzIyCxia6UVmMSn6kgpPIS7WOu8P7nXe9SxsyCM4fgT4BC5Ga2OCc8XPzBs/s1600-h/DSC00046.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425222469186706162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLczKysk93TZqPGhvHir-xom0n-JimdHt9MkKZN70OaBgcHZgxg-qkLD-ei_C8F5458YwVHUl8lO0UZy7fzIyCxia6UVmMSn6kgpPIS7WOu8P7nXe9SxsyCM4fgT4BC5Ga2OCc8XPzBs/s320/DSC00046.JPG" /></a> I think of my late grandpa <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">every time</span> I come to this bakery. My grandma use to warm a danish for him in the oven every morning. At least every morning that I was ever there. She would wrap it in tinfoil and stick it in the oven and then call him to the table when it was done. I bought two cheese danishes yesterday and warmed one of them up, just how grandpa liked them, right when I got home.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFBPxF9lTA8kOhqz-qk2LXXIWyk7tpnIMtP6IZ-kfxNpASVMn86ujCEwJJfBJ7gvFENzH5UODXo1_HM5iAKrHVCJZQnw4PGwUY1yCxoUUyGf2aFkwDWtjTZvtIQiXQYrOsDBR0w8X0Ds/s1600-h/DSC00051.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425221997555333266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFBPxF9lTA8kOhqz-qk2LXXIWyk7tpnIMtP6IZ-kfxNpASVMn86ujCEwJJfBJ7gvFENzH5UODXo1_HM5iAKrHVCJZQnw4PGwUY1yCxoUUyGf2aFkwDWtjTZvtIQiXQYrOsDBR0w8X0Ds/s320/DSC00051.JPG" /></a> Caffeine and sugar, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">mmm</span></span></span>...the American way! This morning I was only able to partake in caffeine because I downed the second danish around midnight last night. *sigh* In hindsight I would have only eaten half. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-40876431253393773682010-01-08T09:57:00.021-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.034-06:002010 I Like You Already<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJB10zEyeTANyEPoNHLq_sXHZxAZfDor4mvuiBv8nt1OWgrR2k3NSE1oLtdsRpLSzIsuyY_7DE1EDaGJNOQAV1UraDXqp4afopGEiqyZDA-GRpznEYA2jpY6GFFBKaXZbPUGnOkCPSOE/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424417003105046130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJB10zEyeTANyEPoNHLq_sXHZxAZfDor4mvuiBv8nt1OWgrR2k3NSE1oLtdsRpLSzIsuyY_7DE1EDaGJNOQAV1UraDXqp4afopGEiqyZDA-GRpznEYA2jpY6GFFBKaXZbPUGnOkCPSOE/s320/Picture+002.jpg" /></a> Wednesday night I met a friend downtown at the library for a poetry reading. This library is one of my favorite places to visit in Salt Lake City. Combine it with poetry and I'm a very happy woman!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJ2QeNtItLBSrVj40eybQy0k3hlJgc0R508flT0tjmJBGiIr8XeltxXqbxU133YCiIqZ5t7vYoRPzNqWuR6kC2xMlHXIXhHDgJUuo1__LydWMCkTtWVQ4EToe_hqEGcQLiO7mOM3wps0/s1600-h/Picture+004.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424416426048209970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJ2QeNtItLBSrVj40eybQy0k3hlJgc0R508flT0tjmJBGiIr8XeltxXqbxU133YCiIqZ5t7vYoRPzNqWuR6kC2xMlHXIXhHDgJUuo1__LydWMCkTtWVQ4EToe_hqEGcQLiO7mOM3wps0/s320/Picture+004.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div>We listened to poets who were published in the independent poetry journal, <a href="http://www.sugarhousereview.com/">Sugar House Review</a>. It is a semiannual publication of some very talented Utah poets - one of whom I hope to become. I'm <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">definitely</span> going to make an effort to get published this year. I'm excited to learn of another publication highlighting local talent.<br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5IP1YHNev3PmnwxdAICNr-EWE4ol2txPYCqTSd6-_tAUCKgSDFDRcvUFrjSA2i4w2s2IEcAjiUIwoecKZSon0pm1ffo4-GaWXHzASEANcEbpVztK4T2_eD6U9hNy7xYdWDI_ekefCFI/s1600-h/Picture+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424415854372885426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5IP1YHNev3PmnwxdAICNr-EWE4ol2txPYCqTSd6-_tAUCKgSDFDRcvUFrjSA2i4w2s2IEcAjiUIwoecKZSon0pm1ffo4-GaWXHzASEANcEbpVztK4T2_eD6U9hNy7xYdWDI_ekefCFI/s320/Picture+001.jpg" /></a> Isn't this building impressive? This photo was taken from the east entry of the vestibule. All along the right are shops, including an art gallery and a small deli. On the lefthand side is a coffee shop and the entry into the library which has a total of four levels. Four levels of BOOKS!? That my friends, is a modicum of heaven in my world. <div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-6196349034468944962010-01-07T18:12:00.002-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.044-06:00Making a life...<div>This past year has been so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">incredibly</span> hard. To feel things that you don't know how to express and have the object of those feelings give up on you and move on is among the most difficult of feelings I have ever had to endure. I had no idea I could cry so much...hurt so much. I hate that I seem to have been cursed with such insecurity, such shyness, especially toward the opposite sex. Fuck... I feel so broken. When will this go away?????????????????????</div>
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<br /><div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-62681823606560141442010-01-05T17:02:00.024-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.046-06:00hokay!My life has been slightly <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">interrupted</span> the last couple of weeks because my car broke down (shocking!). We thought it was just the battery and my brother replaced it only to have the timing belt go out a few days later, in the middle of a snow storm, while driving home from work one night. Jesus, my car (cleverly named by my brothers because it keeps <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">resurrecting</span> from the dead) was kind enough to wait until I was coming onto the off ramp of the freeway. Right when I was giving myself kudos for not having a panic attack while driving in the storm, on the freeway, in the dark - he died. No warning at all. My cell phone battery also died so I trucked the two miles home, on foot, in the snow storm. The strange part? I kind of enjoyed the walk...<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoufOxFKQXDu4s0Sc3_WSa_2iqMfzsOwXUlxFJfuzCmdwUIpPiJaXY6ET4uGDMSa_pN14b23goaxSLZfsxh7qRdAV3p4-6zApH1WH3leSSsy-nG1tn2IB0-iit4UV0pA5f8BLVuizxaw0/s1600-h/Art+037.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423414668509037442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoufOxFKQXDu4s0Sc3_WSa_2iqMfzsOwXUlxFJfuzCmdwUIpPiJaXY6ET4uGDMSa_pN14b23goaxSLZfsxh7qRdAV3p4-6zApH1WH3leSSsy-nG1tn2IB0-iit4UV0pA5f8BLVuizxaw0/s320/Art+037.jpg" /></a>On New Year's Eve, Christina took me to get my car out of impound. Yeah, that whole "You have twenty-four hours to get your car off of the road" all lies. Anyway, after that we hung out and ate pizza and watched movies. She also helped me pick out images for this collage project that I'm working on. I got the idea from my sister. She and her best friend <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">collaged</span></span></span> a life size <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">mannequin</span> a couple of years ago.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hJcO2aoeuLdNSJIGZyg7j2SoQV4cPAjUim30cMmCR4Ht0-1MVIqc2bNGrz6cmARPnXPkTjh3loay8s5O7yuZbpISRZ5qgtFsapdlTUIRQDeQApvjRNVUhm0eiYaalDX7oNElI0JqtE8/s1600-h/Art+042.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423414043115305506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hJcO2aoeuLdNSJIGZyg7j2SoQV4cPAjUim30cMmCR4Ht0-1MVIqc2bNGrz6cmARPnXPkTjh3loay8s5O7yuZbpISRZ5qgtFsapdlTUIRQDeQApvjRNVUhm0eiYaalDX7oNElI0JqtE8/s320/Art+042.jpg" /></a> One of my resolutions is to improve my vocabulary. I'm making myself flashcards and they really are helping me retain the information more quickly. I'm such a dork.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzlQ0QgQ0z7hFZhW4dY82-KejW_D_GKtrwxFepPJqldaJOOupMTmRK-KbSDQeEdz2jpmI71KonD0Ke5hxeIORvDdVtW8oHjGmiDHWRdXXY798z23_PhxQ8UFFHZwuxUNGXy_l4sm5zXI/s1600-h/Art+043.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423412684574241538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzlQ0QgQ0z7hFZhW4dY82-KejW_D_GKtrwxFepPJqldaJOOupMTmRK-KbSDQeEdz2jpmI71KonD0Ke5hxeIORvDdVtW8oHjGmiDHWRdXXY798z23_PhxQ8UFFHZwuxUNGXy_l4sm5zXI/s320/Art+043.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is Pascal the Parrot, aka Little Chicken Man. Another resolution is to spend more time <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">handling</span></span> him. He's a sweet little guy who I know would be an absolute lover if I held him more. He's currently entertaining me by barking like the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">neighbor's</span> dog.<br /><br /><br />And now, the lovely purse that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"><a href="http://camillebythesea.blogspot.com/">Mumsey</a></span></span></span> made! I really dig tartan and red is among my most favorite colors. It is also huge so I can pretty much put my entire life in there.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423411808938775234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRPzJ3C3my44zNca0d_LbU-3XY2R5OtoAegRgCC1MSLs2336kiPqoWLJtY97ednvZZEyoH-UEAJq2xV73j6vWxxcr28qkxVB1F1nMhdP1JzbSKiFH01dic_ZUntq99XH0FwYLzzmRhAQ/s320/Art+035.jpg" />Finally there is Gisele .... She's on a diet for the new year. She just doesn't know it yet.<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldUI6Y-kFr1iXQBqzerYX2Jpx9-ReH_vFqEMh9Z3NeEZfJA8__kzFv-01SbTvpdlFb54tylaaNb5zNUO-ba8xVGQ_OhbQ0f68NTdqcivig8GGZf3v2K2cSDGqbpPHS9xP5_3T75heKLU/s1600-h/Art+038.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423411208337543122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldUI6Y-kFr1iXQBqzerYX2Jpx9-ReH_vFqEMh9Z3NeEZfJA8__kzFv-01SbTvpdlFb54tylaaNb5zNUO-ba8xVGQ_OhbQ0f68NTdqcivig8GGZf3v2K2cSDGqbpPHS9xP5_3T75heKLU/s320/Art+038.jpg" /></a> ♥ </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-77173468659167345352010-01-05T16:29:00.000-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.053-06:00WARNING:<div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-31639821975272486362009-12-29T01:53:00.005-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.028-06:00twenty-tens a comin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt1CNGpnykWwVzfbJQZUSWtkoq36aF9Q42z1sD4MyoDeOmeIB7GJjbW2kKX28mTnh3BEs7TeZQgAArBNVUmjCwKuCwLODTDoje30fvchAnRlt-duIL3RmIy0NIeCwxMDYrZqh70wUQrn8/s1600-h/media1%5B1%5D.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420578709201237954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt1CNGpnykWwVzfbJQZUSWtkoq36aF9Q42z1sD4MyoDeOmeIB7GJjbW2kKX28mTnh3BEs7TeZQgAArBNVUmjCwKuCwLODTDoje30fvchAnRlt-duIL3RmIy0NIeCwxMDYrZqh70wUQrn8/s320/media1%5B1%5D.JPG" /></a> <div align="justify">Christmas was spent in Phoenix with my parents. It was really nice to spend it with them. It had been a couple of years. My mom put everything she had into us kids like always. As soon as I get a memory card for my camera I'll post some pictures of the killer purse that she made for me. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I've been thinking a lot about what changes I would like to make this coming year. Yep, I'm one of those. I enjoy this time of year and the reflection that it brings. I'm spending the next few days getting <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">organized</span> and (somewhat) planning my execution. I mean to do a lot more writing this year. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-31084478913032735542009-12-16T21:59:00.008-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.026-06:00It's time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB1XTvoaIqVW-CqnfG4cmCa9owyUNDFLozP8DgAWtVBQVTjLZb_dLY7vgSx40Ncyre5fsRim52m-lfqEjjavVrt2-LH_CE3EGj5zOgGFhUkXVVmnw1JPFUpv6uBFx9lptL0E42hDg_8c/s1600-h/Art+026.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416065410329511938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB1XTvoaIqVW-CqnfG4cmCa9owyUNDFLozP8DgAWtVBQVTjLZb_dLY7vgSx40Ncyre5fsRim52m-lfqEjjavVrt2-LH_CE3EGj5zOgGFhUkXVVmnw1JPFUpv6uBFx9lptL0E42hDg_8c/s320/Art+026.jpg" border="0" /></a> I've spent a lot of energy in my life trying to avoid being vulnerable in order to be, or appear to be, strong and independent. I also thought that I could keep myself from getting hurt. I realize now that I have had it all wrong. It takes strength and courage to let your guard down and fall in love be it platonic or romantic and there is no way to outsmart getting hurt. I'm finally ready to fall in love. I'm ready to fall big and I'm ready to fall hard. But mostly, I'm ready to fall completely.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-5350884545752113142009-12-12T18:00:00.009-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.038-06:00Intuition<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNAXY_lzVjU2d1a5a9eLFP3gLi0WuQLFHh48x67dQf1-LEDA56QR-BICuBTEeUCd36ohE4JXf2PEX1vhtYLggtd7kj9Qj2mHVgOxkF_ZbfnvY_uhzb-vok8B1fn34x7H-KngQ7ini5Ok0/s1600-h/Art+023.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414519847188423314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNAXY_lzVjU2d1a5a9eLFP3gLi0WuQLFHh48x67dQf1-LEDA56QR-BICuBTEeUCd36ohE4JXf2PEX1vhtYLggtd7kj9Qj2mHVgOxkF_ZbfnvY_uhzb-vok8B1fn34x7H-KngQ7ini5Ok0/s320/Art+023.jpg" /></a>Life is worth all of the trials...<br />the lost hopes...<br />the dashed dreams...<br />even the heartache...<br />when it teaches the dreamer...<br />how to listen...<br />to herself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-18213457850588943572009-11-26T21:49:00.004-07:002013-07-27T19:27:10.022-06:00I want someone to tell my secrets to...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgNPjwgQzA5AOZchfroI1VCNUasdEx8U7bHvpss5HhJoI75t8OvFFJNtTtvjCOpkj3eYE85vbTTTO1TWV7l8de1n8W4eMwE8hoegRW65zEiAOajKHwoeo48Gx6oGQwuXUwOGfYWKjkok/s1600/Secrets.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408641327444207298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgNPjwgQzA5AOZchfroI1VCNUasdEx8U7bHvpss5HhJoI75t8OvFFJNtTtvjCOpkj3eYE85vbTTTO1TWV7l8de1n8W4eMwE8hoegRW65zEiAOajKHwoeo48Gx6oGQwuXUwOGfYWKjkok/s320/Secrets.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-72158039259100762592009-10-18T03:55:00.005-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.051-06:00Crossing Thresholds<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFifTC1rO8j9a7SriXKiXfrghJ9aYOeWcdJuMz975DZeYWWq9vlOBsUcTQ2gxd4UvVXddijppOmSwc7Zg1MxjmpA1GlhZXetij0z1nYxa8MfqIYYylIKJJ3HtxEauGSqZYtlcGNgi6-Q/s1600-h/Art+005.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393877082884265026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFifTC1rO8j9a7SriXKiXfrghJ9aYOeWcdJuMz975DZeYWWq9vlOBsUcTQ2gxd4UvVXddijppOmSwc7Zg1MxjmpA1GlhZXetij0z1nYxa8MfqIYYylIKJJ3HtxEauGSqZYtlcGNgi6-Q/s320/Art+005.jpg" /></a></div><div align="left">Sometimes I sit down to write or work in my art journal or paint and it just flows right out of me. But lately...that's not the case. The last several months have been full of change and emotional growth. There is not much in my life today that was there only a few months ago. People leave, people die, jobs are lost, loved ones are terminally diagnosed...yet somehow life goes on and even has the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">capacity</span> of becoming sweeter. Relationships are appreciated, time is valued, hopes and dreams are fought for. In the middle of it all lies opportunity to change direction and cross the much needed thresholds in order to live authentically. My life, my person, is like this unfinished painting. Unsure of the result of each new <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">decision</span> but determined to become a work of art anyway... </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-25987664781862727112009-08-22T00:02:00.015-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.025-06:00Closing doors and opening windows<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvf5FJ80uj7ditLAeh50sJbk3CKj64I6N8QcLOm6Ni2u4MdCOQTqSGv7jLPgd2VZgWm9pjhFomz0mlk0wOgPDnI-QcJk5JhpUFSTijnoDhEKBYzkoJmqqt3whvcjJGM8xgi0RgtUrK-U/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372664866491279570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvf5FJ80uj7ditLAeh50sJbk3CKj64I6N8QcLOm6Ni2u4MdCOQTqSGv7jLPgd2VZgWm9pjhFomz0mlk0wOgPDnI-QcJk5JhpUFSTijnoDhEKBYzkoJmqqt3whvcjJGM8xgi0RgtUrK-U/s320/Picture.jpg" /></a><br />Love isn't actually difficult to find but rather easy to miss. It's too subtle to outshine our ideals and if we've never learned to love or value ourselves, it's not only tricky to recognize, but to accept.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#990000;">♥ ♥ ♥</span></strong> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-77347967611429249112009-08-16T11:55:00.016-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.056-06:00I need someone I can talk to<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93RsuF5gwLqzDKT3Rl7foAj_3APip7DasIxj_GLbtWUzaSvpzqhq3GNumi_iWe7FxQgukS0JjjRrtArJ3aWoKHOzbGDJIGvu6Ruscv5y2au4Vey_2Ix7qo8ZVjFP1-EuCA6EAdbrJXUI/s1600-h/Picture+065.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370625280640917458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93RsuF5gwLqzDKT3Rl7foAj_3APip7DasIxj_GLbtWUzaSvpzqhq3GNumi_iWe7FxQgukS0JjjRrtArJ3aWoKHOzbGDJIGvu6Ruscv5y2au4Vey_2Ix7qo8ZVjFP1-EuCA6EAdbrJXUI/s320/Picture+065.jpg" border="0" /></a> I have a hard time digesting things quickly. In terms of life I mean. I comprehend things emotionally much sooner than I can speak about them with any genuine intellect. I see the big picture first and then I work on understanding the details. I work backward in a sense. A lot of times, in interactions, I'm very aware that I tend to be operating on a different wave length than most. Sometimes that realization is empowering other times it's maddening and can leave me feeling very alone and insecure<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgya2GcZrvgUOX7RIILFipzC-iKcYadxy8xicu2onL_L_eWgMpHNMGvSCukG6dMSCHPiPzqpWIJ28vQ7EgXfN9cMBhcpbnUnZGiKLhymS-DjxShcn_j4pzJP9z7u8GqQuJrfKhkGbsCVoU/s1600-h/Picture+078.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370625031551746626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgya2GcZrvgUOX7RIILFipzC-iKcYadxy8xicu2onL_L_eWgMpHNMGvSCukG6dMSCHPiPzqpWIJ28vQ7EgXfN9cMBhcpbnUnZGiKLhymS-DjxShcn_j4pzJP9z7u8GqQuJrfKhkGbsCVoU/s320/Picture+078.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>This is why I enjoy writing & making art so much. Talking often moves too fast and I'm almost certain to say the wrong thing or respond the wrong way and piss someone off (which evokes a whole new set of emotions and thoughts to quickly grasp!) or, I make myself sound like an idiot…. I do that a lot. I'm much smarter than my conversation reveals. With writing, I can take the time to articulate my thoughts and feelings into the right words. With art, it doesn't need to make sense to anyone else at all.</div><div></div><div></div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;">(photos were taken while sailing in San Diego last week)</span></em></div><div><em></em></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><div><div><div><div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-69288831511436750202009-08-16T11:14:00.005-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.048-06:00<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZKpaFAsq6svjjqcsy2nzgfFXVDijgN-H6DBYbf0QJX49JVhUBKWM9uIj8J0ybqLduzxnICmNQlix-LuM3zbDWaUR_LS3cvm2gX1flLO9yrLfVqQY45fUEVwD4t4OOKfT5o8_Lspifrs/s1600-h/Picture+065.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370621292184814882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZKpaFAsq6svjjqcsy2nzgfFXVDijgN-H6DBYbf0QJX49JVhUBKWM9uIj8J0ybqLduzxnICmNQlix-LuM3zbDWaUR_LS3cvm2gX1flLO9yrLfVqQY45fUEVwD4t4OOKfT5o8_Lspifrs/s320/Picture+065.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />
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<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_FmSg0v06rlnDIQxMABu4hX_Al1epBIAUaoG9uaY9a42t6iOmicBae-7y8MdzU8TxTQRtxWaef_OcmLt0ygqAqPwgngCgQWulRyfJeIXvpEKOQMpImCShUIxuq20JOpORl08FrCuKgA/s1600-h/Picture+078.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370613768418177986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_FmSg0v06rlnDIQxMABu4hX_Al1epBIAUaoG9uaY9a42t6iOmicBae-7y8MdzU8TxTQRtxWaef_OcmLt0ygqAqPwgngCgQWulRyfJeIXvpEKOQMpImCShUIxuq20JOpORl08FrCuKgA/s320/Picture+078.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br />
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<br /><div>I have a hard time dygesting things quickly. In terms of life I mean. I comprehend things emotionally much sooner than I can speak about them with genuine intellect. I see the big picture first, then I work on understanding the details. I work backward in a sense. A lot of times in interactions, I'm very aware that I tend to be operating on a different wave length than most. Sometimes that realization is empowering other times it's maddening and can leave me feeling very alone and insecure.<br /><br />
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<br /><div>I think this is why I enjoy writing so much. Talking moves too fast and I'm almost certain to say the wrong thing and piss someone off (which evokes a whole new set of emotions and thoughts to quickly grasp!) or make I myself sound like an idiot.<br /><br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxtw97QOC1eyDoNJSBuBW6bJ7_6Q4Xda4QPPveavt-SDmdKea40SCvW9cXRU3pachyphenhyphen1AVTMPju2uZxUCj7jmwScfOx9PnM7g8s6xVQJw7S-XEIGjEvGSX0p_MxO1t5Frb6xEJg4gcqyw/s1600-h/Picture+078.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyyaoZX5rQTrumm7K_PTPkxpoVhbLLWAe5tTFal4PIvNLemZQa4pz6F-01R0jOezpS7WUoFyaGlz403s661qq6FpOcTA9HT1LltFygX9JkmNaOWc3JQpLs3O0rJ1n4HSRiYuXGXzkKAA/s1600-h/Picture+065.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfkzEQ4c_CjW6QtjyNhfIfx6P2YNRhAOmD3yzCf6DqUbFscFPyn-kVhoPpgBPy49t_ODqAl1BmPuUZehjNIe7gyDUq8OHUFS2fXIix0uVF8VcZRQMz5gPMbBo4LfWJAb787nPKVZknmc/s1600-h/Picture+047.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-2386590739790818712009-08-02T22:07:00.005-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.023-06:00Life's constant alterations<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYjc-JF26utT5JL_mV89jO6QA3L9te31sYKSySR67-LM-Q3-IymzH6nMjXEIZukSdxyVLkGp9Dg2K8ugm9B8RbTTOTBoBVhAXFKCZKcooqFojdaWalQ486NWzrjfxvQtImNbf2qMmVBU/s1600-h/Picture+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365584832552235074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYjc-JF26utT5JL_mV89jO6QA3L9te31sYKSySR67-LM-Q3-IymzH6nMjXEIZukSdxyVLkGp9Dg2K8ugm9B8RbTTOTBoBVhAXFKCZKcooqFojdaWalQ486NWzrjfxvQtImNbf2qMmVBU/s320/Picture+001.jpg" /></a>It's an odd thing when you outgrow your life. Like most things we outgrow, it happens over night - the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">quantum</span> leap. The tiny changes we've made up to this point, the books we've read, the decision we've made (good & bad) even that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">brief</span> conversation with the stranger that tweaked our perspective, all of these things abruptly manifest and suddenly nothing fits.<br /><br />I've been sorting through it all the last few months trying to figure out exactly what I need to change and who it is that I want to be and how it is that I want to live. I need to take some risks in my life and start betting on my own dreams.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-49915723247257646242009-06-21T19:48:00.014-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.037-06:00Fertile Ground<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKcngdfVOSvDhwfr9zFTkxF2uWqYZVd3ghj4M2qfZzcCq5Wmr5mwDO6Os_3hjE_wmFSEt8FZS-ym3TwBgHUTpfg8oj4yd03qfaViH-0HfRd1sUcG2DF8HqmVF6F5NuJOKdTiZe1mJK7k/s1600-h/Picture+008.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349966334921387922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKcngdfVOSvDhwfr9zFTkxF2uWqYZVd3ghj4M2qfZzcCq5Wmr5mwDO6Os_3hjE_wmFSEt8FZS-ym3TwBgHUTpfg8oj4yd03qfaViH-0HfRd1sUcG2DF8HqmVF6F5NuJOKdTiZe1mJK7k/s320/Picture+008.jpg" /></a> We've had a lot of rain this spring and I've really enjoyed it. I like the way rainy days calm my nerves and remind me to step back and take time to reflect... <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiF4G-F5ic8uLXQ95XZV2JwJspKHwSyCRfvTlt84L5ZsKemOmOczMkUJY5hZcMXuYJ7jqOlP79nN3N-mmoSEoAuVH0052TLLpiICnFdiVum8M1QEoirDxpxMt5sx-N0Jq9dZx53pLWz8/s1600-h/Picture+009.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P6FFPG2_SjEcGJUkEdhV1v-HDnVMdPkooOS6spwKBYx2tUZjol39SZUUAIpop7ARo5U3ArEEqqI70P6t0q-NQeIE33hWoFTB9bH2Kac-Z7E27gexm9FemEBlErUPDPuZ1FQ4MNAHhgo/s1600-h/Picture+007.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349965648371068418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P6FFPG2_SjEcGJUkEdhV1v-HDnVMdPkooOS6spwKBYx2tUZjol39SZUUAIpop7ARo5U3ArEEqqI70P6t0q-NQeIE33hWoFTB9bH2Kac-Z7E27gexm9FemEBlErUPDPuZ1FQ4MNAHhgo/s320/Picture+007.jpg" /></a> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>to forgive...<br /><br /></div><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikwP71u4QsNh0EOrY3LzkytpvXNv4DMscB5Gg8sMTadrBHzDf3Nt5t272-m7jbNjp6D2g46O0whiD6yGdy_VLGCKYFf-LFTEM6leVZNvHev2PibIC3BjDuBFDMmLeuNejM6ieS5N6Uy3Y/s1600-h/Picture+120.jpg"></a>to hand it all over to God & allow the soil of my heart to soften once again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-85264387901924253012009-06-16T21:33:00.005-06:002013-07-27T19:27:10.057-06:00Sometimes a girl's just gotta splurge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7FGpwVLmowY4CV5tQbHZm02WY327lzRn9HR4kOk6lVOYKH9GuUiKpUacVZa9jDuR4hi8bA-orJ1QjcXee6mNyD-MQJTPeogqvGlK1bxx1Bttr-itvpjbvixqaNXumHhkvB75Vv_cgN0/s1600-h/Picture+003.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348135122229767698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7FGpwVLmowY4CV5tQbHZm02WY327lzRn9HR4kOk6lVOYKH9GuUiKpUacVZa9jDuR4hi8bA-orJ1QjcXee6mNyD-MQJTPeogqvGlK1bxx1Bttr-itvpjbvixqaNXumHhkvB75Vv_cgN0/s320/Picture+003.jpg" /></a> I bought my first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Moleskine</span> today and OH.MY.GOODNESS. How have I lived this long without one? I don't know, I don't know. I can only plead ignorance.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-58269827510636638682009-06-12T21:59:00.014-06:002013-07-27T19:36:31.968-06:00It's the little things<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIhDvbiKKtYKk8_5l2qo3_RIcupNH5d30sOGoHTDMRKQ1q4V2H41Ui-HPLz1TEZvOB-vm71ksYPbT0ARj0nFjseBlbYp9X2B9LjF7r8CO7-8hqbSzhxdkxPfkRpR2IZ_0Lnn0i9LBSl8/s1600-h/Picture+080.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346663146645299618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIhDvbiKKtYKk8_5l2qo3_RIcupNH5d30sOGoHTDMRKQ1q4V2H41Ui-HPLz1TEZvOB-vm71ksYPbT0ARj0nFjseBlbYp9X2B9LjF7r8CO7-8hqbSzhxdkxPfkRpR2IZ_0Lnn0i9LBSl8/s320/Picture+080.jpg" /></a>I pray for more moments where I recognize the sweetness in the simplest parts of life- where I pause to listen to the rain against my window & remember to enjoy the journey...<br />Be it full of sorrow or joy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-32006631864648278402009-06-06T22:33:00.011-06:002013-07-27T19:36:31.953-06:00Restoration<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidr49N8Zd_DqyzZXBWsZZOd9sv8usjX4fWH5p9WURV8rj63XWJJ2HdaYYP2g5pe0I5udbvGd_7u-cTzGKLQUZ-fJl7OYDIS6npoQp2eBpQGkr4t_nLTlxeCYX7-3n2wxzufFHPR47aEz0/s1600-h/Picture+004.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344439928735955570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidr49N8Zd_DqyzZXBWsZZOd9sv8usjX4fWH5p9WURV8rj63XWJJ2HdaYYP2g5pe0I5udbvGd_7u-cTzGKLQUZ-fJl7OYDIS6npoQp2eBpQGkr4t_nLTlxeCYX7-3n2wxzufFHPR47aEz0/s320/Picture+004.jpg" /></a> <p>I've been a social butterfly this week. After being pretty much a hermit for the last year or more, it feels nice to extend myself into other people's lives again. Utah hasn't been the easiest place for me to make girlfriends. Most people have known each other all of their lives here and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">penetrating</span> that circle can be intimidating to say the least. Either that or they are married with a bazillion kids and I have a hard time relating. So, I've spent the majority of my time here feeling out of the loop and a bit awkward. But I've been praying about it and what do ya know...women that I've met over the years are beginning to surface once again and this time around there is more of a connection. We seem to be at the same place in our lives on many different things. The reinvention of 'me' is well underway and making some mighty fine progress. ♥</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h0oAgDU4t3E-oPax4p_B4q2TFRaYVPpCzJVzZDnZkw_IWippPjhmOm8uXZDha_75TxPYAMKOAQAGjSBiXI4QXL1pmlO_k8dlDRph8McID6QqrEdVJH5etZhNj7n0AZUsMhzNJ9ZvSFg/s1600-h/Picture+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344439441092293954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h0oAgDU4t3E-oPax4p_B4q2TFRaYVPpCzJVzZDnZkw_IWippPjhmOm8uXZDha_75TxPYAMKOAQAGjSBiXI4QXL1pmlO_k8dlDRph8McID6QqrEdVJH5etZhNj7n0AZUsMhzNJ9ZvSFg/s320/Picture+001.jpg" /></a> I came home from a BBQ tonight to find this sweet little girl sleeping in my a<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">rmouire</span>. She is determined to get fur on every square inch of this place! <div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-23065194581078282832009-05-31T01:46:00.022-06:002013-07-27T19:36:31.940-06:00thee poetess is learning to paint<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8h6icQCJtxgSB1G56v08h9dMo8pCrsc7O7f-pG5PnIiaSVJJyMcr3mxgoJPIcOsw-UAg0dl7y6NQrsVEiWY0nmeSVR3K9ocZ8Zm5ShxIFcaMQSMSBHJr_r3lKZ__0nvQ2q48pU9PaMlU/s1600-h/Picture+126.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341895042400382866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8h6icQCJtxgSB1G56v08h9dMo8pCrsc7O7f-pG5PnIiaSVJJyMcr3mxgoJPIcOsw-UAg0dl7y6NQrsVEiWY0nmeSVR3K9ocZ8Zm5ShxIFcaMQSMSBHJr_r3lKZ__0nvQ2q48pU9PaMlU/s320/Picture+126.jpg" /></a> Last night it was so beautiful outside that I took my supplies out onto my back steps and painted while I listened to music by 'Wovenhand'. It's a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">CD</span> that Ben brought by a few weeks ago that I can't get enough of, especially when I'm creating something. The lyrics are like prayers & the music is dark and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">mystical</span>, it's fabulous!<br /><br />It's difficult to capture the effects of the different layers by photograph and it's my first time drawing a 'real life' looking person. I don't think I did too badly. I'm actually kind of proud of the lips, even though they are a bit uneven.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUbFo6FVRwUFcOXJ7XBOYTqYXQDeC4DqbJ6ZTnfd3EQDFTh1QZ93UCaV40vzz7jT4Cp0dpDZMoDtjyWRMrvcfNv8AcXriWAf-nUXtaJGCbOK9lBxkdTB-La2QGTWYq_K2ptTl2ju-Khg/s1600-h/Picture+003.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341894700801148914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUbFo6FVRwUFcOXJ7XBOYTqYXQDeC4DqbJ6ZTnfd3EQDFTh1QZ93UCaV40vzz7jT4Cp0dpDZMoDtjyWRMrvcfNv8AcXriWAf-nUXtaJGCbOK9lBxkdTB-La2QGTWYq_K2ptTl2ju-Khg/s320/Picture+003.jpg" /></a><br />♥~♥<br /><div><div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I feel so small<br />inside of myself<br />as if I'm beginning<br />to disappear<br />watching<br />from the outside<br />looking in<br />a fly<br />on my own wall</div><div></div><div></div><div>~E~</div><div>♥~♥</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_qlPdrLDq5_AbYARBTCZCbQ3IbsYcL_OG8zzQuOgyPXS8RTqx41vP21rhM4E4pLBAReKtt810IuslUSJvK_g5JUeVLiI0nuw060VDNS05hCgFOKpjUN09A56BkS5BGUJ55AIQORvmMpM/s1600-h/Picture+003.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568647173302065170.post-31639918307199983462009-05-17T18:26:00.006-06:002013-07-27T19:36:31.951-06:00Revolution of the Heart<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtr6kcj6XmdaOPpnWmh0ocZSYyZ-GyCXFBE2MoalLQkT9pPLkbctwrGZ6p58xV-l7EaAFGgi4ioNAv2i73s5a1PSdTpTxGRbM9YTqcsb4AiQvCusUvuIC332duey4bEu70z_GbHzPK7U/s1600-h/Picture+103.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336956508323950322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtr6kcj6XmdaOPpnWmh0ocZSYyZ-GyCXFBE2MoalLQkT9pPLkbctwrGZ6p58xV-l7EaAFGgi4ioNAv2i73s5a1PSdTpTxGRbM9YTqcsb4AiQvCusUvuIC332duey4bEu70z_GbHzPK7U/s320/Picture+103.jpg" /></a><br /><div>If you click on the picture you'll be able to see more of the detail in this. <div><span style="font-size:0;"></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2