<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:12:26.108-08:00</updated><category term='american eagle'/><category term='anita'/><category term='dad'/><category term='smith'/><category term='generosity'/><category term='black flag'/><category term='set your goals'/><category term='jewish'/><category term='aquafresh'/><category term='broadway calls'/><category term='lomography'/><category term='hair school'/><category term='argument'/><category term='rent'/><category term='darjeeling'/><category term='Jackson'/><category term='tiffany&apos;s'/><category term='diana +'/><category 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term='terra nova'/><category term='the office'/><category term='clean'/><category term='hoodie'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>a new sonnet</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>527</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2075366346193788932</id><published>2012-01-18T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T11:51:40.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Square One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm&amp;nbsp;unemployed, again, this winter. There is a certain horizon in your mind when you realize someone has crossed it and there is no looking and no going back. I feel like I have been mistreated, mislead, completely and totally&amp;nbsp;unappreciated. But I guess that's the way most jobs go. This was different though, because I dedicated the last year of my life to this business as a manager and now it all means nothing. Not because I was refused pay, or held accountable for every mistake, or the cold hard fact that we were rated 'worst coffee shop' in Albany behind Dunkin' Donuts. Talking down to your employees to make them feel like they are nothing just so you can walk all over them is not any way to do business. And all of those people who have complained the most about being incredibly mistreated are still working there because they either don't have the means, or the balls, to tell him to fuck off. I'm lucky to have someone by my side who will support my irrational decisions, simply out of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, taking all of my baking items and my&amp;nbsp;recipes&amp;nbsp;out of the place before I leave for 12 days isn't a big enough "I QUIT," because he's still &lt;i&gt;texting&lt;/i&gt; Connor and I to work after I told him I'd never put up with his bullshit for minimum wage. You can't pay the rent? Let's just drop everyone's pay to minimum wage and see how many stick around. Not this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The job I started before I left sucked and I haven't heard from them, so I'm off on a clean slate. All of this piracy protesting online has shut off my communication to the job world for today so I'm just sucking it up for now, getting my life back from vacation world and joining reality again (cleaning). At least this time I came back with good news and something to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally have an opportunity to get back to California. My Uncle owns apartment complexes near my parents and is willing to offer me a place to stay for cheap until I get on my feet, which is all I could ever ask for. It's about an hour east of San Francisco which is far, but closer than I've been in the last 4 years. For now I just have to make ends meet until the car payment is done in September and then we're off. Finally a chance, finally a plan. I've dipped out of Albany life pretty much since I moved into our house with the only people I care to talk to, and I plan to keep it that way until I'm gone for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2075366346193788932?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2075366346193788932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2075366346193788932&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2075366346193788932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2075366346193788932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2012/01/square-one.html' title='The Square One'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5653987278523230132</id><published>2012-01-04T08:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T08:43:21.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shit in the Fan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Things have been awful. I was puke sick on&amp;nbsp;Christmas&amp;nbsp;and cold sick on new years eve. I'm supposed to be leaving for California on Saturday, I was so excited and now I'm almost dreading it. The cafe seems to be indefinitely closing, and oh yeah, I'm not getting paid either. "There is no money" is not a valid excuse in my book. I don't want to get into this, I've been stewing about it for the last 3 days I feel like my head might explode. I'm writing because one of my dad's best friends from the beginning of eternity has just suddenly died this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never dealt well with death, it's almost a denial thing. It just doesn't seem real enough to be dead. At such a young age, dying at 41 can only mean a human error of some sort. A patient being monitored for a fatty liver should be tested for every disease you could possibly think to be related, is this not apart of their job at hospitals anymore? Do they send out the bills without double checking their work? My dad's best friend is dead because someone was too fucking lazy and incompetent to do their job. How did no one no he had diabetes? His body was swollen, his pancreas, kidneys and liver were swollen. He died in a medical induced&amp;nbsp;diabetic&amp;nbsp;coma from internal bleeding that they couldn't find the source of. And I bet in less than three weeks there will be a medical bill waiting in his mourning parent's mail box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving for California on Saturday, a trip that was supposed to be about giving my parents a break from all the grief in their daily lives. Now I have to watch my entire family and friends go through their mourning period because someone fucked up and killed my dad's friend. He had the best laugh, he was always smiling, and everyone is going to notice when they don't hear that laugh at the next get together. I hope someone is held responsible for Kaiser hospital's 1,000,000th mistake. They almost killed my grandpa 2 years ago, if it wasn't him it would be someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never know that the last time you say good bye would be the last time forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5653987278523230132?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5653987278523230132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5653987278523230132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5653987278523230132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5653987278523230132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2012/01/shit-in-fan.html' title='The Shit in the Fan'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1971388285842374292</id><published>2011-12-13T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T21:59:13.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Finale</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm sorry, it's been long and nothing has changed. Only ideas amplified with research and data, researching the data. A friend of mine is planning on going to graduate school in Brooklyn next fall and hell or high water I think I'm going with her. We both have boyfriends who are making plans to attend, but with or without that's where I have to be. The prices for living aren't nearly as ridiculous as I thought, no worse than in California, that is definite. There is so much opportunity for anyone in that zoo, especially in my position now with 'management' experience and almost 3 years of steady sweat and bloodied kitchen work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I know going there will throw me to the sharks at the bottom of the deep oiled ocean, I will be nothing, yet again. But all of this 'managing' is exactly what everyone has ever said about being 'the' manager. Bullshit&amp;nbsp;overflowith&amp;nbsp;in my tea cup of life on a daily basis. I'm solidly convinced 90% of people on earth have a mental handicap/lack common sense entirely/are&amp;nbsp;subconsciously&amp;nbsp;evil. &amp;nbsp;But who really knows where I'll be next summer, this is only my best idea yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be going back home in January for a week and I'm keeping it a secret from my younger proteges just to watch them pee themselves in public! I didn't say I was excused from being 'subconsciously evil.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has bit the fucking big one and I hate it, I'm avoiding it now even in my own head. I'm letting things roll off of my back, trying to anyway. It is sometimes (most of the time) difficult to work with and also respect someone so demanding and completely irrational at the same time. He writes my paychecks and is pretty cool for the other 50% of the work day. You give and take, sometimes you've just got to take some shit for a little while to get ahead.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1971388285842374292?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1971388285842374292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1971388285842374292&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1971388285842374292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1971388285842374292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/12/finale.html' title='The Finale'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4913164393515807473</id><published>2011-11-07T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T17:55:31.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Confusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I don't know where my head is at today. Some days I wake up and feel like my life is totally on track and I know where I'm going and what I'm doing here and other days I feel like strangling myself and saying 'WHY?! WHY ALBANY?!' This place is wearing me down, mostly because I'm stuck here until I figure out something better to do. I'm still going along with this plan to buy the middle-of-nowhere farmhouse with acreage, but I find myself second guessing what my life will be like in 5 years. I find myself second-guessing my settling into being old at 21 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I don't want to stay out late, get all fucked up, and take all kinds of hallucinogens, this is not what I mean by 'something more.' The trouble is I don't know what I actually want to be doing. My career has consumed my life completely, which was the goal after graduating culinary school, but I wonder how long this will last? How long will I be able to put up with the complete bullshit, long hours, and migraine inducing customers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; This is going to sound utterly insane but I only really feel totally comfortable when I'm alone at home with my cats. I've been through so many changes over the last 21 years I guess I never really stuck to "doing me," I've always had a boy in my life in some way, and when I wasn't with them I was at home hanging out by myself writing or doing some kind of art. This is the only place I write now, and there is no time to be doing art. Where will I keep it? Hang it? Will my roommates like it? Life is so different now but I feel the same as when I started writing here. My responsibilities are different but still the same pain in the ass. Will I ever be content? Will I ever be&amp;nbsp;truly&amp;nbsp;happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I almost wish there was something wrong in my relationship with Connor to have something to complain about, a reason to take-off and 'do me' with my cats. It's so right that its at the wrong time. It sends me (cliche much?) to Blue Valentine, a move with Ryan Gosling and Michele Williams, you shouldn't watch it unless you feel like crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Tahoma, Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;I feel like men are more romantic than women. When we get married we marry, like, one girl, ’cause we’re resistant the whole way until we meet one girl and we think I’d be an idiot if I didn’t marry this girl she’s so great. But it seems like girls get to a place where they just kinda pick the best option… ‘Oh he’s got a good job.’ I mean they spend their whole life looking for Prince Charming and then they marry the guy who’s got a good job and is gonna stick around."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Tahoma, Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Why is it that I have everything I wanted a year ago and I am still searching for 'prince-charming' in life? I wish someone would slap me. Five years ago I was planning my fame lit fashion design career and now we're talking farm and babies. I've put my trust in the wrong people and taken such huge losses over the past 3 years that I don't even know which way to look up. Wanting both is the shittiest shit, I hate being a Gemini sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point of this is that there has always been someone else in my life that has kept me from 'doing me' and I'm afraid I'll never get to experience this until I've realized its too late, I'm too old, and I have too many&amp;nbsp;responsibilities&amp;nbsp;paining in my ass. But why would I let go of something so right at the most confusing time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Tahoma, Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4913164393515807473?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4913164393515807473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4913164393515807473&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4913164393515807473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4913164393515807473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/11/confusion.html' title='The Confusion'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8551514268520400646</id><published>2011-11-07T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T17:15:29.615-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Adult Thing To Do</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It seems as though my life has just been bundled up lately in this huge jar of fermented shit, with kittens on top. Juni had her nunies 5 wednesday mornings ago sometime between Connor leaving for work at 6:30am and me waking up on my sleep-in-late day at 9am. We should really have seen this coming, Juni is such a weird cat, the opposite of cat, she likes car rides, sits in the shower with me and she has weird allergy issues; She only had TWO kittens...and guess what they look like? One is Juni's exact grey and the other is completely black just like Milo and he isn't even the dad! Nature is so strange. She is a good mother without having to learn anything, I hope to have her instincts one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems as though my life has been consumed but a ton of complaining, and not even my own. Every one at work has something to bitch about, everyone of my friends has something to complain about, even I do. I am complaining about complaining here, folks. Everyone has got issues it's amazing. And what is even more amazing is that everyone else's issues are starting to inconvenience me at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Oh, your parents are visiting from 30 miles away and you need the weekend off? --Are you really asking me on Wednesday? --Sure, I'll work open to close on the busiest day of the week so everyone else can go to a birthday party I was invited to but cannot attend because I am too busy ATTENDING to your fucking problems.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish this story was hypothetical, it's just my morning wake-up call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can anyone possibly keep their sanity as a business-owner and/or manager? People are quitting their jobs and taking time off of work to camp out on Wall St. while everyone continues to go about their business making their dirty money. Someone explain to me how this is not counter-productive. How fucking ignorant do people have to be to quit their jobs to fly across the country and protest &lt;i&gt;joblessness&lt;/i&gt;. I attended a few protests while living in San Francisco and to be honest about 70% of it were teenagers taking myspace pics of themselves and each other at the protests. It just seemed like a huge fucking joke. So now I am working over time every week because of this bullshit. Everyone sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up, go to work, go home, shut the fuck up, go to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8551514268520400646?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8551514268520400646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8551514268520400646&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8551514268520400646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8551514268520400646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/11/adult-thing-to-do.html' title='The Adult Thing To Do'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6767846416764278224</id><published>2011-10-03T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T10:19:16.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Okay so I know it's horrible to brag about your salary, but this is the one place where no fucks is given and it's been that place in my life since junior year in high school. My generation is so weird...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v9wesCFZ_KY/TonuGXcC3yI/AAAAAAAAAxM/L73Am96xf6U/s1600/IMG_0905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v9wesCFZ_KY/TonuGXcC3yI/AAAAAAAAAxM/L73Am96xf6U/s320/IMG_0905.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not by any means &lt;i&gt;swimming&lt;/i&gt; in money, I'm just comfy. I haven't been comfy with money at all, ever, since I started working and paying bills. I've always been &lt;i&gt;behind&lt;/i&gt; and for the first time I am &lt;i&gt;ahead, &lt;/i&gt;and it feels great. Working 7 days a week isn't so bad either, I've gotten used to it by now, plus I get every other Monday off too. And when I'm sick I still get paid the same amount, and I've also got this cool new thing I found out about at the vet called &lt;a href="http://www.carecredit.com/"&gt;Care Credit&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;its basically health insurance on a credit card up to a certain amount of course. Its awesome for poor people with pets because you can use it at the vet and for yourself, there is no interest unless you make a late payment. &amp;nbsp;I've also been able to get a regular credit card finally, since this September I've been paying my phone bill for a year and my student loan for 2 years. I'm trying to build up to buy an iMac. Connor was right, this whole credit thing is like a game, except when you fail, it sucks really bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f9Q0EopL-rY/TonuI-WLF2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/um2nexfdUcA/s1600/IMG_0906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f9Q0EopL-rY/TonuI-WLF2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/um2nexfdUcA/s320/IMG_0906.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I still have yet to even mention to my mom that I might be staying in New York,&amp;nbsp;especially&amp;nbsp;with news about my grandparents moving back to California. Why does everyone I love have to live in the most unreasonably priced (and awesome) place in this country? I would love nothing more to be near all of that delicious food and the chilly beach and common grounded nerds, but I'm afraid of leaving my 'comfy' space to go back to being below the poverty line and not able to do anything cool anyway. I'll have to buy a car, I'll have to buy insurance, I'll have to pay to even get over there and then hunt for a place that has an apartment with a kitchen in my price range. It seems utterly ridiculous to think I'll be buying a house in New York, because getting here was a mistake. If I hadn't met Connor I would've gone home a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--PUqUuK2abg/TonuMky2xEI/AAAAAAAAAxY/J_Ba4rf--6c/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--PUqUuK2abg/TonuMky2xEI/AAAAAAAAAxY/J_Ba4rf--6c/s320/IMG_0908.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Someone asked me a few years ago what I liked to do and I had no answer, absolutely none. I was 18, only three years ago, but it feels like the whole world has spun a million years since then. Now I know what I value and found someone else who wants what I want, I want to live a life of&amp;nbsp;sustainability. Doesn't that sound so epic? That should be my climactic one-liner at the epicenter of my book. But really, I want to work my land and take care of my house, garden organically, have chickens for eggs and only ONE damn rooster 'cause they are the scariest alpha males. We've been talking about fostering animals and animal rescuing (when I say 'we've' I must be talking about me with myself, I've only mentioned it twice out-loud). There will be cooking, TONS of cooking, re-arranging, wall-paper ripping parties. Friends, you are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f9Q0EopL-rY/TonuI-WLF2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/um2nexfdUcA/s1600/IMG_0906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHlibISztdQ/TonuK2-xKbI/AAAAAAAAAxU/smIKgMAONBY/s1600/IMG_0907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHlibISztdQ/TonuK2-xKbI/AAAAAAAAAxU/smIKgMAONBY/s320/IMG_0907.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There cannot be any more pure a form of 'comfyism' than living in the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6767846416764278224?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6767846416764278224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6767846416764278224&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6767846416764278224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6767846416764278224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-time.html' title='The One Time'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v9wesCFZ_KY/TonuGXcC3yI/AAAAAAAAAxM/L73Am96xf6U/s72-c/IMG_0905.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7265669809319199929</id><published>2011-09-27T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T13:01:03.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wait</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It's been too long, dear old blog, I almost forgot all about you. Since we came back from California my life has been a total mess. I got a promotion at the cafe to Kitchen Manager/Partner, I deal with a whole lot more bullshit but the menu, specials, details, are mine. All mine. I've never been in charge before so it's been pretty stressful. Rallying your troops (inefficient employees) to actually work is the hardest part, I feel like a broken record. I see every eye roll, every scoff, I don't even care anymore. I have had to work at being a persistent bitch to everyone and it sucks, but it's really whats best. If you aren't, shit doesn't get done, plain and simple. I have a boss too though, so while I'm sometimes shitting on other people there is other shit to be shat upon me, constantly. I guess I don't work so well under stress, but I have yet to feel like I can't do it. I have certainly felt like I don't &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; to do it, but everyone does sometimes. Oh and my kitty is pregnant with more kitties (I'm&amp;nbsp;necessarily&amp;nbsp;upset about this, but I am stressing hard.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are giving me a hard time again, I don't want to be around them. At all. Connor and I are considering buying his parents home in a scenic county at least an hour away from any bullshit in Albany. 75,000$ for a 4 bedroom farmhouse with 7 acres. Seven acres of complete solitude. Chickens, dogs, pigs, we could have it all. I'm torn between being miserably poor near my family in California or eternally happy in exactly what I want, 3,000 miles away from anything connected to me since birth. Why can't I just have them both? In life you make decisions, most of them suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7265669809319199929?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7265669809319199929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7265669809319199929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7265669809319199929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7265669809319199929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/09/wait.html' title='The Wait'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6090715354673385164</id><published>2011-07-20T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T16:41:23.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best</title><content type='html'>One of the benefits of Albany being small is that you can always count on getting to know someone by asking the people around you what they know, and they're usually right. I always welcome first impressions, even if you don't feel like giving me one. If you can't project yourself according to who you are, then who the fuck are you? The guest should not forgo manners just because they are not the host, people are still judging you. How else can you judge someone who doesn't speak, except by their actions? When you assault someone in my home you are essentially ridding yourself of my respect by not being able to have the human decency to control your actions, drunk or sober, you are a disrespectful bitch. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WELL, now that this is all out of the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 more days until California! It doesn't even feel real, having been here for two years non-stop also seems unreal to me at this point. I've kept in such close contact with my immediate family I feel like we've been anticipating this trip since I was 18. Things have changed in my 'adult' mind and I'm really looking forward to long talks with my mother, just us two. It's been a long time since I've been able to talk to someone who I feel like could love me no matter what I've done or what I'm about to say. My feelings towards my father have changed as well as towards my step-father. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Getting to know Connor has led me to so many conclusions about my own life and my past, for the better. We both grew up on the opposite sides of the discipline spectrum but in retrospect, our lives have so much in common. I won't go into detail, I'll spare you the sap story, but I really do feel like in my parents mind they felt like they were protecting me all those years while in actuality they were fueling my anger and resentment for punishing me for ridiculous things. I did feel, and still do feel like the black sheep of the family and I don't think this will change until people in my family start being honest with me and themselves. We never were the perfect family, we never will be because people make mistakes. All I want you to do is look in the mirror and discontinue the cycle, for my siblings sake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grew up hating myself and not feeling good enough because of the constant dramatized discipline, 1 minute late was 1 week locked in my house, a B+ could've been an A, but I just wasn't. The American dream is dead for those who were not born into the top one percent, we should stop shoving achievements up every child's ass and start teaching them common sense. Maybe we should pay less attention to being an 'A' and pay more attention to being what you are, that must make me a pretty content B+.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6090715354673385164?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6090715354673385164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6090715354673385164&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6090715354673385164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6090715354673385164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/07/best.html' title='The Best'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8375858915815811755</id><published>2011-07-12T09:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T09:39:33.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worst</title><content type='html'>Hands down the worst part about being an adult is being in debt. It seems like the way credit goes in this country, you have to first be in debt to make an name for yourself. Too bad I haven't even been given the chance to make the mistake, I don't have enough &lt;i&gt;credit &lt;/i&gt;debt to be get more credit. Crazy. You'd think it'd be the opposite, I know I'd never want to lend money to someone who already has debt.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have started borrowing money out of the iPod fund, (which got stolen a few months ago when we were moving along with the hand truck, I hate you Albany) which is now empty, and I borrowed money out of my California fund to buy drugs. Ahh, priorities. When I get back from vacation my first move is to pay back all of my debt. And the shitty part about all this is that if someone just gave me a chance I could've been borrowing money from some asshole in a suit who will sign me off in a year as an official "fee and interest customer," and then I will be able to buy the computer I've been trying to get for the last year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I seem to be just taking the long route by picking up small bills every once in a while that count as credit. I pay my student loan, a cell phone plan in my name, and as of recently the internet at our new house. I guess the important thing is that I'm not fucking up my credit, which really tends to bite you in the ass later in life when people refuse to give you things or do things for you because of it. I could seriously damage my chances of getting an apartment in California because there are 1000000 people there who would make the payments on time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blah, the way things work is just so depressing. I'm glad I wasn't old and saw the world turn into this, I was just born here, I'm not responsible. I do believe however that it is the younger generation's responsibility to fix all of this up when all the old people can't tell us what to do anymore, because they'll all be dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8375858915815811755?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8375858915815811755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8375858915815811755&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8375858915815811755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8375858915815811755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/07/worst.html' title='The Worst'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6135249973890672099</id><published>2011-07-09T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T15:02:18.432-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chance</title><content type='html'>Here I am! A brief moment in time to reflect on this week's improvements. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started a personal journal, and when I mean personal, I mean not on the internet. After going back to read posts from years ago and having most of my personal life on display in metaphors since the sixth grade (all the way back at Xanga, wow.), I've decided to keep some things to myself. There are just some things that need to be said and not heard by anyone else...if you're following me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;"We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting."  -Charles Bukowski&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I am beginning to become disgusted with every single person I come in contact with. I shouldn't say beginning, because I've hated people forever, clearly. Albany really is a huge shit hole, but I've been here for the last two years so I can't tell whether it's everywhere or just New York. The other morning I was walking to work and a crazy homeless man was literally hurling text books at me from across the street, on a main intersection! I've never been afraid of the homeless anywhere else, there are more crazies here than I've ever seen in one place. This morning in the store-front someone left a wrapper from a blunt and an empty liquor bottle from the night before, I wouldn't be surprised if they we're camping out front all night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I have seen police officers arrest numerous people for the most insane reasons  here. A homeless man who is randomly stopped and ID'd on Lark St. (bar central) asks for a reason why he's being detained and is arrested after he throws his hands in the air in frustration. Just the other day we watched a police car pull up to a bus stop and just start asking for identification from everybody, when we drove back 15 minutes later there were 3 minorities in hand-cuffs. New York is hands down the most racist state I have ever lived in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I am getting so depressed, at a time in my life when I just started to see the world in a brighter hue. I need to stop reading the news. As much as I like to be informed, all they have to say is bad news. There is so much hatred, anger, and resentment in every person no wonder why we all suck. If we quit being assholes to each other, there would be nothing to resent, but unfortunately it's a vicious cycle. In the end you can only help yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;How can you expect to see change in your world when you're sitting on your ass complaining about your life? I fell into this hole for so long. Someone once wrote to me on this blog; "Don't let yourself fall back into old habits." And every time I feel my old feelings of wanting to crawl into my cave, I tell myself that little diddy. You come to realize that you do make your own happiness. Even when life hands you a pile of shit on your walk to work, you can chose to walk through it or walk around it and continue on with your day. I am not letting tiny or HUGE piles of dog shit interfere with my happiness. So far, it's been working out for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;If you can't live with all of the negativity in the world, you best make a positivity bubble around yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(24, 24, 24); font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt; (&amp;lt;---inventing words/objects again) No one is going to do your dishes, your laundry, or pay your fucking bills, you shouldn't waste your life sitting around waiting for someone else to come and fix it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6135249973890672099?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6135249973890672099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6135249973890672099&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6135249973890672099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6135249973890672099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/07/chance.html' title='The Chance'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6645907158384348478</id><published>2011-06-29T14:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T15:08:43.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Paper</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I guess I'm back to reading the news. It's become a daily routine for me to check the headlines and poke about washingtonpost.com, it's the only online newspaper I read now. After reading &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/checkpoint-washington/post/new-estimate-of-us-war-costs-4-trillion/2011/06/29/AGnolfqH_blog.html?hpid=z4"&gt;this article&lt;/a&gt; on newly estimated U.S. war costs over the last decade, I came across &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/post/obama-picks-fight-with-gop-over-tax-cuts-for-the-rich/2011/03/03/AGHTMsqH_blog.html"&gt;this little gem&lt;/a&gt; about Obama harshing on republicans for not being "serious" about abolishing tax cuts for the rich, where I read this inciting statement...&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "&gt;cries of 'class warfare' from Republicans." This alone prompted me to have to say something to someone, something, anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;For most of my conscious-opinion-making life George W. Bush was in office, I remember when he was wrongfully elected, TWICE. And although I have not taken the route of joining military service like some of my peers, I am not a total idiot on the subject of war, history, and politics. I have always kept up with the media, (only quitting the stuff briefly over the last year to take break from all the bad news) and talked openly with my family about our opinions, whether in agreement or disagreement. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Believe it or not, my father comes from a very white-collared republican family, who are immigrants from South America, but they once were apart of the rich minority so the last statement is irrelevant. We even have a few personally signed photographs of each Mr. Bush in thanks of support. My mother's side of the family couldn't be any more polar opposite, and this is the side I spent more time with. Even with all of these opinions flying around I was still able to form my own, which is the important part of this rambling nonsense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Even the idea of Republicans crying "class war" makes me want to fucking puke. You know at least 85% of them came to the place in a private jet, the rest in motorcade. There is no class system in this country, there is rich and there is poor. The recession has cost almost all of my family members their homes, even my grandparents who are creeping into their mid-seventies, have been forced to hand over their two Oregon homes, their home business, and their dignity to the bank. Might I also mention that the house was going through foreclosure just as my grandmother was recovering from a year and half long battle with breast cancer. There will never be any rest for us in this world unless we are stinky fucking rich, and I have come to terms with the fact that this will never happen for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;It's not that I didn't try hard enough in school or because I didn't attend a university (I couldn't have afforded it anyway, Connor's sister's student loan payments for a 4-year history degree from SUNY Albany has her hostage for 750$+ a month). I just didn't have the same opportunities that rich kids do, as far as attending private schools in a state where public schools scoot children along to keep the funding a flowin' (California), money was always an issue in my family. My mother would've packed on a third job just to get me through if it was honestly my ticket to investment banking, if it wasn't for a great teachers I did find in public education. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;In the end I came out alright, I'm still making eight dollars an hour, but at the same time I don't feel like hanging myself from my necktie or jumping out of my office window, so things are good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mS3nWAnOX80/TgucjkNdnLI/AAAAAAAAAxI/VjZ3K3-KEoA/s320/greece.bmp" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623760694531693746" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;shit is happening in Greece right now, the entire country has come together in a group organized through Facebook. I don't care what pretentious assholes are saying, that is fucking awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6645907158384348478?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6645907158384348478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6645907158384348478&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6645907158384348478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6645907158384348478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/paper.html' title='The Paper'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mS3nWAnOX80/TgucjkNdnLI/AAAAAAAAAxI/VjZ3K3-KEoA/s72-c/greece.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-697732780141921038</id><published>2011-06-28T14:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T14:31:31.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Trip</title><content type='html'>"Pool party," is the eight year old lingo I must use when my baby sister asks me what i did last night. "Pool party," can be translated into 21 year old lingo as, "crawling under the fence of a public pool to swim naked with a bunch of friends." It was worth the drunken after-show un-awkwardness to swim with a beer in hand to the dock in the center.&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Summer is proving to be spectacular so far. We've made plans to go camping for the weekend, leaving friday night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-697732780141921038?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/697732780141921038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=697732780141921038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/697732780141921038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/697732780141921038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-trip.html' title='The First Trip'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4549405452780543203</id><published>2011-06-23T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T00:12:39.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Up Late</title><content type='html'>Tonight is one of only nights of the year that I will allow myself to stay up on the computer into ungodly hours of the morning, killing time essentially. Killing sleep time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been all grumpy this week. The gay marriage debate is prominent in New York because it's being voted on, everyone is just watching and waiting for the suits to decide the fateful love of same-sex couples. I grew up in the Bay Area of California, it could quite possibly be one of the most open communities in the country. Not until I got older did I ever hear one of my relatives make a nasty remark about "the gays", and he's an ignorant white boy any who. My mother always had gay friends and I even had some friends come out to me in middle school. I'm too tired from being pissed off this week to fully divulge, but you get my drift. The audacity it must take for these so-called "pro-marriage" religious bigots to picket the capital is astounding, to deny a family's love because of your own opinions is rude, malicious, and insanely disrespectful. Sometimes I am even offended, their presence is surrounded in complete negativity and hatred, how could anyone agree with their statements unless they stem from something truly evil? I'd also like to hear ANYONE give me a reason against gay marriage that doesn't include the bible or religious beliefs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Catholic Church is threatening to shut down their adoption agencies just so they don't have to let same-sex married couples adopt, that has got to be the most unholy decision I've ever heard. But the bill proposes an exemption that would allow this kind of discrimination to be 100% legal, it blows my mind. Consider the fact that 27% of children grow up with two parents in the household, how could this possibly get any worse? You can't blame the destruction of family on homosexuals anymore, they aren't allowed to have families in 45 states, us "straight crusaders" have fucked it all up. I grew up with a parent with a head on their shoulders, and that is all that should matter. If they can prove that they will never massacre a pharmacy for hydrocodone, you should be allowed to be married and have children. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.springerlink.com/content/g37353050036326n/"&gt;A poll&lt;/a&gt; at an elementary school in 2007 states 69% of black students, 28% of white students, and 36% of students overall lived without their father. I happen to be one of these students, an even though I'm statistically proven to be an unwed mother by my age, I'm not. Because I'm not a total fucking idiot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe what we should be focusing on is keeping the population from over breeding and using up the oil supply, then we'd all have a bright future. And I bet in 15 or 20 years when all of the old-time conservatives and old-time plain racists die off this world will be filled with happily married people who share the same genitalia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4549405452780543203?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4549405452780543203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4549405452780543203&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4549405452780543203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4549405452780543203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/up-late.html' title='The Up Late'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4833159665880584161</id><published>2011-06-18T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T07:20:19.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Exhausting Circle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I don't want to be at work today, nor yesterday, or the day before. I'm getting really sick of the run around of things. We have been so slow lately that everyone is under prepping and I'm running out of things left and right, it's annoying. Saturday is usually busy so there should be more prepped, and that person should have been me to do it, but I was too busy catching up from yesterday's lunch I had no time to prep for breakfast. I feel like I'm running a one-woman-show here, everyone is so fucking lazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my one shitty day out of the week so I shouldn't be complaining. I am always complaining.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gTWpkr9nLg4/TfytVxsjAtI/AAAAAAAAAw4/5iVET0TcDrY/s320/shoppers.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619557024680575698" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We've had three bands stay at our house this week, all foreigners, all has been well except a little inappropriate ass grabbing (sorry, I'm a prude, but I have respect for myself) and the Czechs not knowing how to use a fucking bathroom apparently. Paper towels do not flush, the toilet seat is for sitting, not for breaking. Luckily the cats aren't too mad at me for having too many guests, I've actually gotten my Milo back. He wouldnt even come near me when we lived with Connor's dad because Connor's dad is in love with Milo, and I think the feeling was mutual. He is back to his cuddly kissing self, Juni is the Nunester as always, just doin' her thing. I like commas today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He's getting so big!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qh9HyYKpALw/TfyyqPde5zI/AAAAAAAAAxA/x1uMWwWljsE/s320/my%2Bmilo.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619562873825978162" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that we're basically settled into the house I am definitely more comfortable, I am enjoying dinner and movie nights with my friends :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That being said, I am taking a much needed break from alcoholic beverages. I haven't been 21 for a month yet and I can't even tell you how many times I don't remember coming home, this needs to end! I am fucking my stomach up, I feel like shit at work, and bad things sometimes happen...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4833159665880584161?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4833159665880584161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4833159665880584161&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4833159665880584161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4833159665880584161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-dont-want-to-be-at-work-today-nor.html' title='The Exhausting Circle'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gTWpkr9nLg4/TfytVxsjAtI/AAAAAAAAAw4/5iVET0TcDrY/s72-c/shoppers.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3733505085226008081</id><published>2011-06-14T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T10:49:48.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dead</title><content type='html'>All of this emptiness at work is giving me reason to write. It sucks that all of the assholes I don't miss while they're gone over the summer just happen to be our customer base, because we've been dead at work all summer. Lets just see what topic I can exploit today for my own amusement..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SLEEP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't felt like I've gotten a good nights sleep since last week, and it's killing me. For a while I didn't get that early morning dread of having to pull my lazy dreaming face from the pillow, but it's back, the sound of my alarm is like nails on a chalkboard. I guess it's better than my mother's voice, I honestly believe it was part of the reason why I was so mean to her. Anyone who has to wake me up on a daily basis will subconsciously become my morning hate target.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sleeping has always been a hassle with me. As a kid I would lie awake until 4 in the morning making pictures out of my ceiling, and as I got older I learned how to do things silently in the dark to not wake up my parents. I used to sit on the floor and sew with my machine with the tiny light and a book lamp during the summers. When I moved out of my parents house in California to Oregon when I was 18, I learned the magic of marijuana, and ever since then I've been able to sleep at night. It's costly, but for actually being able to fall asleep at night, it's worth it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sleep has always been prone to react to my surroundings, if I'm sleeping in a stressful environment I toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night. Living at Lancaster I felt like I never slept, especially in winter. When we moved to Connor's dad's a few months ago, I don't think I've ever gotten better sleep than that. The good feeling has continued into the new house, but just this week I've been noticing a difference. I think I need a break from things, more like people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My vacation couldn't possibly come any sooner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3733505085226008081?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3733505085226008081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3733505085226008081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3733505085226008081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3733505085226008081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/dead.html' title='The Dead'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3698349243394742663</id><published>2011-06-13T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T10:52:20.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drive North</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u81ctRGplZE/TfZNjghBK6I/AAAAAAAAAww/-mKwSnpPpbA/s1600/photo%2B%252836%2529.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u81ctRGplZE/TfZNjghBK6I/AAAAAAAAAww/-mKwSnpPpbA/s320/photo%2B%252836%2529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617762857610455970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this weekend I'm not leaving my house for a month. I feel like I've been hungover since Saturday, it's now Monday morning and I can't wait to crawl back into bed. On Sunday I took a trip to Buffalo, NY to see a girl punk fest, it was alright. I got to see the band i went there for, i don't know if it was necessarily worth it, but now that I'm back from that terrifying drive home I guess it was worth it. We spent ten hours in the car yesterday, crammed into a van with 7 people. I don't even want to get into what a horrible time that was. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm getting really sick of things again, I want to revert back to my house and I am almost pissed off when there are people there I don't know. Not because I don't like them or whatever, I just don't feel like being social in my own house. I chose cool people to live with because they're the only ones I felt like would respect us and our belongings, as well as know when to fuck off when I'm in the dumps. I guess this is the Gemini in me, torn between two lifestyles. I love to go out but at the same time I am awkward and by the end of the night I wish I didn't go out. And plus, there is so much drama in Albany you can smell it in the air, this is one of the things i absolutely hate about this place. There is drama everywhere, but everyone is so miserable here I feel like they bring the drama on themselves most of the time. If you're gonna talk in public, everyone is going to know what you said, there is no such thing as privacy or secrecy anymore. I can't wait to have zero friends, honestly. I'm getting sick of the same old routine, I'm just sitting back and waiting for someone else to fuck me over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd love to live in the country like connor's parents do. In the middle of butt fuck nowhere living the dream, raising intelligent children, farming, cooking, working and living together. They have the occasional neighborly visit but all they need is themselves and I strive to be that way someday sooner than later I hope. I still have things to do and see here, my good times being ridiculous are not over. But I have a feeling the smelly and I will be acting a fool forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3698349243394742663?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3698349243394742663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3698349243394742663&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3698349243394742663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3698349243394742663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/drive-north.html' title='The Drive North'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u81ctRGplZE/TfZNjghBK6I/AAAAAAAAAww/-mKwSnpPpbA/s72-c/photo%2B%252836%2529.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3736801853934561254</id><published>2011-06-11T05:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T05:35:39.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drank</title><content type='html'>Literally, the only thing keeping me from puking right now is keeping my fingers moving and thinking of how shitty this blog post is going to be. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went out last night for my girl Ashley's 24th birthday and decided to stay awake till 2 am taking shots of rum and chiefing some marijhuahua.  I knew right then and there I had work at 7:30 am, but my drunk person is brave. I tried not to whine as much as possible, its my fault, but the power of being a manager is paying off all too well. I got someone to come in and work the ass end of my shift so really I'm just killing five hours on this couch because it's pouring rain and no one eats when it rains I guess. It is really easy to kill time on the internet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Burping alcohol the next morning has got to be the worst feeling on the planet. Tequila doesn't sit well with me and I started the night out with a margarita of my own as well as Ashley's massive birthday drink which was a free kiddie pool of drink mix and double tapped tequila. Maybe I should stop talking about this, it's occupying my brain with the worst thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm supposed to be going with some friends to buffalo tomorrow to see an all girl punk fest, but at this point I am NOT looking forward to it. The thought of waking up on my own and spending a rainy day inside is looking exponentially better than sitting in a van with 7 people for 10 hours. Although I do want to see the bands, I'm a hermit. Sunday is my only day off during the week too, god, what am I thinking. If Connor wasn't playing I would DEFINITELY say 'fuck it' lets watch horror movies in bed, but Anal Warhead must go on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eating toast and napping as soon as the counter girl gets in...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3736801853934561254?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3736801853934561254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3736801853934561254&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3736801853934561254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3736801853934561254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/literally-only-thing-keeping-me-from.html' title='The Drank'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2970471546051549411</id><published>2011-06-10T14:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T15:10:43.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wave</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e8bFQYxP8Fw/TfKUy_OxYKI/AAAAAAAAAwo/NjO2EhW7wPE/s1600/photo%2B%252835%2529.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e8bFQYxP8Fw/TfKUy_OxYKI/AAAAAAAAAwo/NjO2EhW7wPE/s320/photo%2B%252835%2529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616715288972189858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Juni and I have been feeling the same way about the heat lately. The cats sleep in the window sills while the rest of us sweat our asses off. This heat wave is crushing, especially when you work in a kitchen with no air flowing. It was almost 100 degrees yesterday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2970471546051549411?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2970471546051549411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2970471546051549411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2970471546051549411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2970471546051549411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/wave.html' title='The Wave'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e8bFQYxP8Fw/TfKUy_OxYKI/AAAAAAAAAwo/NjO2EhW7wPE/s72-c/photo%2B%252835%2529.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4576803619130148495</id><published>2011-06-06T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T12:56:16.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Monotony</title><content type='html'>Holy shit! I have readers. I mean, at least one, which is cool. :]&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;only 50 something days left until the California trip, i can't wait. I'll be making stops at all of my favorite food places, Japan Town, the wharf, the sourdough! I will eat mexican food every day. More importantly I can't wait to see my family. My sister has been calling me every day since she learned how to use the phone, I'm excited to be there for her 8th birthday. I can't believe she's fucking eight years old. I remember holding her in the nursery, hearing her first cry, and cuddling in the early morning in our parents bed waiting for the arrival of my quickly descending baby brother. Even though we're 13 years apart we are really close, even with all of this distance over the past 2 years. She is my little weirdo, my oli, my only sister. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish my parents could see New York and see where I've been all this time. I almost don't want them to come to my current neighborhood, it's not dangerous is just disgusting. I live right on the outskirts of the college ghetto, in the infamous city where in celebration of "Kegs and Eggs" (the made up college holiday before st. patricks to wake up at the crack of dawn and start pounding keystones) the students flipped cars, damaged property, and lost all respect for themselves. This worked in favor for all the people who had to clean up their mess, they had all of theirmade-up celebrations cancelled for the rest of the year. I like my location because it's close to my work and a walking distance from all of the places we hang out, but the students here are disrespectful, dangerous, and complete idiots. A lot of them are rich trust fund kids from all around the state. I've seen more garbage and violence/drunk ass fights in this area already than the entire time i lived next to the projects in my shitty house. I can't wait to leave Albany and go some place where people have ideas and creativity, but for now it's home. The summer has started and most of them have left, but they always come back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I forgot to mention mine and connor's one year anniversary! It was a blast, we went out to an insanely expensive restaurant and we drank a lot of wine. I love you Mr. Hogan! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;EDIT FOR RANTING://&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now that I'm the front house manager of the cafe, I thought it'd be awesome. And sometimes it's definitely rewarding, I'm at the top of the totem pole, but some days I like to strangle my phone and pretend its the employee on the other end. The summer brings slow business for us surviving in the college ghetto, there aren't that many hours to go around, and splitting it between 5 people is even harder. Everyone wants more hours, yet I have one girl who doesn't show up for two days and bitches about not enough hours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4576803619130148495?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4576803619130148495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4576803619130148495&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4576803619130148495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4576803619130148495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/monotony.html' title='The Monotony'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5377834990339982016</id><published>2011-06-01T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T14:10:02.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Follow Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--FFYyK0Om7c/TelNfoX2HoI/AAAAAAAAAwc/JqCudJwgY_I/s1600/259605_10150618705335621_833545620_18969542_543906_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--FFYyK0Om7c/TelNfoX2HoI/AAAAAAAAAwc/JqCudJwgY_I/s320/259605_10150618705335621_833545620_18969542_543906_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614103616302751362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 21st birthday came and went throughout memorial day weekend, as it always does. I didn't get wild and crazy, man, in fact I took it fairly easy. The joy of being old enough to drink where everyone else does decreases the likelihood that I would want to lose my mind on fruity carbonated alcoholic beverages, I would much rather enjoy feeding the jukebox (which is now touchscreen, you're fucked johnny rocket) to play "don't stop till you get enough" sipping on a delicious hard cider or blueberry wheat ale. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The move into the new place went easier than I thought, despite the fact that it was blazing hot for the 4 days I had to unpack. I'm not done. I'm lovin' the house, I love living with my friends, it makes my life 50% easier to know when I come home I can actually relax without getting pissed off at my shitty living situation. Work has been slow, the college students left the area for the summer so we've been closing early, but this means more time off for activities! Like New York City trips (35$ train ticket to huge angry wonderland), new tattoos, and park time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We bought our tickets to california which means it's official! Next month I'll be on the beach again! And maybe I can get away from these allergies for a little while. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5377834990339982016?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5377834990339982016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5377834990339982016&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5377834990339982016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5377834990339982016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/06/follow-up.html' title='The Follow Up'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--FFYyK0Om7c/TelNfoX2HoI/AAAAAAAAAwc/JqCudJwgY_I/s72-c/259605_10150618705335621_833545620_18969542_543906_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5081473198074581509</id><published>2011-05-23T10:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T11:25:15.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Vacation</title><content type='html'>I will be taking a very much needed vacation back home to San Francisco with Connor at the end of July. By the time I'm done moving in the house and working all summer, I'm going to enjoy the shit out of myself and not waste a day. We started the transition into the new house last Thursday, the place was left disgusting so we've been scrubbing and painting all week. I chose a nice and neutral..turquoise..oh well. My room is small, but I won't be in it 80% of the time, I'll actually get to enjoy the living space with friends. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took a mini trip with Connor to New Haven, Connecticut on Saturday and it was awesome! We went to Ikea and ate a lot of good food. Yale university just happened to be graduating that day, I've never seen so many yuppies in my life! We also visited the Rare Book Library and walked around campus for a couple hours. I got some awesome pictures too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also became 'manager' of the cafe, which is my first ever title above 'fun-ployee'. I'm movin' on up in the world!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Moving is stressing me out. I can't figure out how to please everyone, but then i guess you never can..I'm just counting down the days till i get to see my family. I wonder if it'll be weird, they haven't met the "new" me. I'm a different person in many ways than when I was 18, and I haven't lived home since then. I haven't seen any of them in two years, and i get to see my ENTIRE family. I can't wait for them to meet Connor too, he will win them over with his boyish charm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5081473198074581509?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5081473198074581509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5081473198074581509&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5081473198074581509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5081473198074581509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/05/vacation.html' title='The Vacation'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-828422165541668780</id><published>2011-04-25T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T19:37:47.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forget or Forgive</title><content type='html'>Let me start off by saying &lt;i&gt;forgive&lt;/i&gt; me for not posting, and don't&lt;i&gt; forget&lt;/i&gt; about me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things have come around! I moved out of my shitty house earlier than expected and was graciously offered a place to stay at Connor's dad's house with him until June when we move into our new house. We moved out almost a month ago and it's been smooth sailing ever since. I haven't gotten worked up, no depression, no anxiety, no runny noses from mold in the walls. Connor's dad, Brian, couldn't be easier to live with, his sister, Keely, lives there too. She recently let me snag some of her old clothes and came out with a drawer full of awesome things! I love their family so much, we had Easter brunch with Grandma &amp;amp; Grandpa Hogan at their house with some of the whole family. They are so easy going and hilarious! I actually look forward to family events with the Hogans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other exciting news, I love my new job! I've become the pastry chef and I'm about to be the front end manager as well. All of my co-workers are awesome, my boss is awesome, the food is great, the hours are perfect, the pay is not great but worth it for all the other perks. And to go along with this awesome job, we just got a house on the same block! A four bedroom to split between Connor and I, another couple Ashley and Chris, and the lone shark, Dan! I love all of them, they are such chill, genuine people and I can't wait to have more good times with them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course for every bit of good news, there is bad news. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The stalker problem finally rose to the surface and I had to handle it. I was in the mindset that night to not let stupid Albany people bother me anymore until the overzealous cunt wouldn't get out of my face all night. Even after i fully engulfed her face in my punch and she fell backwards into a crowd of people, she still wouldn't leave me alone. This turned into an embarrassing screaming match in front of a lot of drunk people who have more than likely forgotten, but I haven't. And the next time I see that skinny bitch I'll be on the offense. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The stupid asshole problem has yet to be resolved, it's been close to a year since all of this started. Going as far as Oregon to sleep with one of my best friends was a sad, expensive, and sorry attempt at payback. Her flirting was a nice way of saying, "I'm too mean to say you're disgusting and/or no thanks." I wonder if he'll fall off the face of the earth any time soon? If it wasn't for Connor, I'd really start to believe that every man on the face of this earth is a filthy, lying, thieving pig. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the end my biggest problem is forgetting. And it's not that I don't remember, I remember all too well. I can't forget about the way the story really goes, and all the people who've turned their backs to me after I was victimized. I also can't forget about all the mean things that were said, a time when Connor was blacklisted from Albany. Its such a shame how much one person's loud flapping well of a mouth can snowball into the biggest lie that has ever been told about me. I won't forget and I never forgive, because when you do, they turn back into the devil on horseback.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I keep wishing on those karma stars, but when I really think about you and how miserable you are behind all of the medication, the drugs, the talk, I can only see a boy hunched over in a chair shaking with nervousness who covers his mouth when he's uncomfortable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-828422165541668780?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/828422165541668780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=828422165541668780&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/828422165541668780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/828422165541668780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/04/forget-or-forgive.html' title='The Forget or Forgive'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-256291417812510951</id><published>2011-02-22T09:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T09:14:04.479-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drowning</title><content type='html'>I can't wait to move out of my fucking house.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I moved into a house with 4 people I didn't know and that was the worst idea, ever. I just went to the first place I could afford to get out of a hellish relationship. Theres been talk of us not getting back the 1000$ security deposit for some bullshit reason, and before I pay rent on March 1st I want to know for sure. If we aren't getting it back I'm moving out before then and living with Connor and his Dad until June when we can get a place with our friends Ashley and Chris. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm tired of being dicked around by some asshole holding the books, making me pay out the ass for the worst house I've ever lived in. Despite my shitty roommates existing I have to exist around all of their shit, literally, dog shit, human shit, cat shit. I shouldn't have to see this much shit in one day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't wait to wake up in the morning to a quiet house around people who aren't going to ask me for outrageous favors, chain smoke with the windows closed, or scream at each other till three in the morning about ex boyfriends. Things will be at peace and harmony, I'll be able to think, breathe, live, again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I fucking hate my shitty house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-256291417812510951?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/256291417812510951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=256291417812510951&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/256291417812510951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/256291417812510951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/02/drowning.html' title='The Drowning'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6626708708051015699</id><published>2011-02-16T23:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T23:57:16.032-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Followers/VDAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2C67e94n-gE/TVzRFN4P1DI/AAAAAAAAAvk/CH2SQlrc14I/s320/183873_643923410440_27901812_36216087_6333449_n.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574560326332961842" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New Years Eve pictures finally surfaced..yikes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the first time I haven't been able to sleep in months. I usually pass out and sleep like a rock through the entire night, but I napped too late. Connor took the nap to a whole other level and has called it a night. Funny how our sleep changes when we are where we are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I can't believe I actually have followers on this thing. I've been writing my angsty shit in here for years and it's finally picking up some steam. I'm not really sure anyone trying to get to know me should read this electronically filed garbage dump of a blog. I do have happy days too, ya know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u070F0KBEc8/TVzUfwnLa8I/AAAAAAAAAvs/kNCe5FzKzpA/s320/photo%2B%252822%2529.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574564080868092866" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Valentines Day was amazing, the best. Connor took me out for sushi at our favorite sushi place and then to play pool! Which doesn't sound very romantic, but it holds sentimental value in our relationship, and it was fun. He bought me FLOWERS my favorite color, which I'm sure you didn't know was &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;yellow&lt;/span&gt;. He went out and bought himself something nice to wear, but he didn't need much guidance, he's a man who cares about his appearance (sorta) and I love it. We looked real nice and I wore a really loud dress in his favorite color which is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;yellow&lt;/span&gt;. He bought me chocolate and a giant stuffed heart and a giant stuffed cupcake...he really knows my taste. We came home afterwards, watched a marathon of intervention and drank some wine. It couldn't have been a better Valentines Day, and it must've been good because I can't remember any other time I enjoyed celebrating the 'holiday.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At least once a week one of us always has to take a second to come back to reality and remember all the shit we went through just to be together now and it really is one of the craziest/worst/best year of my life. It was all worth it though, I can't imagine the position I'd be in now if I never went for the prize. It's really a shame that Connor's name has been dragged through the dirt the most in the end of this, because he really is the most caring, gentle, generous, and compassionate bear I've ever known. Things are looking up though, people seem to be coming to their senses (a little). It's been about a year now since the drama llama walked into my life, but I said goodbye over a month ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other spectacular news, I finally found a new job. I was hired by a cafe in the area that hasn't opened yet. I mean REALLY in my area, it's only a 10 minute bike ride into the college ghetto. We had an orientation last week where we got to meet all of the opening staff, we talked about the general idea and concept of what we wanted it to be like and I couldn't be happier. The owner is really innovative and we've got some really nice hippies making farm food, I'm excited. I'm not sure when the opening date is, but definitely before March!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6626708708051015699?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6626708708051015699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6626708708051015699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6626708708051015699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6626708708051015699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/02/followersvday.html' title='The Followers/VDAY'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2C67e94n-gE/TVzRFN4P1DI/AAAAAAAAAvk/CH2SQlrc14I/s72-c/183873_643923410440_27901812_36216087_6333449_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5939098830613040120</id><published>2011-01-29T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T14:31:12.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Completion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I did! I made the fricken blog. visit it @ wordpress.com  &lt;a href="http://ashortorder.wordpress.com/"&gt;A Short Order&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still havent had any luck finding a job here, and to tell you the truth I feel like giving up. How can anyone get to know me in a 5 minute conversation? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been doing a lot of crocheting since being home a lot. I made some head bands I think hippies will go for so maybe I'll try to sell them on etsy for food money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;check me out I'm blonde now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TUSVIo6fHYI/AAAAAAAAAvY/OCo1NjoLZto/s320/profile%2Bphoto%2B1.29" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567739014990994818" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life can be so unrewarding, so unfullfilling, sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5939098830613040120?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5939098830613040120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5939098830613040120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5939098830613040120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5939098830613040120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/01/completion.html' title='The Completion'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TUSVIo6fHYI/AAAAAAAAAvY/OCo1NjoLZto/s72-c/profile%2Bphoto%2B1.29' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4608903150463998522</id><published>2011-01-23T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T18:24:47.215-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Thoughts</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking about starting a new blog, something less personal and with more food. I'll still write my complains and worries here, so don't worry about any lack of melodrama in your life. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kind of want it to be based on what I'm eating/cooking. I can post when I eat out, when I cook at home, or come across a good recipe or cooking tip. Food sort of consumes my daily thoughts, and I've been doing a lot of home cooking lately because of the poverty in my life at the very moment. I've also been cooking for my roommates at night, (and getting paid for it) so I have more guinea pigs. Blogging from my iPhone is the easiest thing ever, it feels weird using my computer now. The only question is...what do I call it? It has to be witty, maybe a little cute, and of course foody. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4608903150463998522?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4608903150463998522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4608903150463998522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4608903150463998522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4608903150463998522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/01/thoughts.html' title='The Thoughts'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4376635193314438161</id><published>2011-01-17T17:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T19:51:37.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flip</title><content type='html'>I could go on forever about how I hate everyone in Albany, but mostly, almost entirely it's just Josh that I hate. The thought of him now makes my stomach turn, especially after Saturday night. Connor and I weren't on the "guestlist" to the show so we were &lt;i&gt;denied entry&lt;/i&gt; by the devil himself. I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is, but i think he is the devil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4376635193314438161?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4376635193314438161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4376635193314438161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4376635193314438161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4376635193314438161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/01/flip.html' title='The Flip'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5764232143214462696</id><published>2011-01-08T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T13:14:02.701-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='failure'/><title type='text'>The Extravaganza</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TSjTgDIa4uI/AAAAAAAAAuo/PmqWndY6lfE/s1600/me%2Band%2Byou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TSjTgDIa4uI/AAAAAAAAAuo/PmqWndY6lfE/s320/me%2Band%2Byou.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559926287538774754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend is sleeping to ignore me being pissed off again, who can blame him?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was deathly ill for the last week with the worst gastrointestinal virus I've ever had in my life. Felt like my insides were eating each other. After all this time off from the holidays the last thing i needed was to be sick. Now I'm 200 dollars behind on the rent, with 60 bucks in my pocket and my phone bill is due in a week. I'm royally fucked. And they stopped giving me hours at work, so now I'm really fucked. Isn't there some place I can call and complain about having shitty owners/managers? There should be. Theres a place you can call when you are fired from your job to be supported by the government, but what about those people who have been working and are still working but their job is too cheap to give them enough hours to pay their rent?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm fucking sick and tired of everyone treating everyone like shit. Maybe I just have to face the facts that all humans are born evil, maybe the Christians are right. Or maybe we just have to make a different approach as parents and teach our children that it is not okay to blatantly ignore a customer because you've had a bad day, or how to speak to other people respectfully. Its the kids everyones trying to protect but its the adults that I'm worried about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5764232143214462696?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5764232143214462696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5764232143214462696&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5764232143214462696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5764232143214462696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2011/01/extravaganza.html' title='The Extravaganza'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TSjTgDIa4uI/AAAAAAAAAuo/PmqWndY6lfE/s72-c/me%2Band%2Byou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2828981161134238515</id><published>2010-12-14T21:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T21:54:43.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Overwhelming Feeling</title><content type='html'>The past month has been sort of rough, like a dark cloud hanging over my head. I have no money, its winter, my roommates piss me off, and I can't wait to get home. Connor and I are doing well, I just can't get out of this funk. I've had such bad luck, I'm just waiting for something to come my way. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket, a cheap one.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made the mistake of looking up the girl Connor drunkenly fucked years ago and she was surprisingly not hideous, it kind of made me mad. SO now I'm back to being down about ME, so I guess i should go back to the GYMahslkdjhvglhujsgb. I'd rather go to work than go to the gym. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Milo's testicles are getting chopped on Thursday so the piss extravaganza is going to be over soon, and i can go back to keeping the kitties together like they should be. AND we can go back to sleeping past 6 am, his MAAAAAOW-ing is keeping the whole house awake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Christmas in two weeks! I'm broke but my sister really wants a zuzu pet, so I'm thinking of scratching my plans on going to NYC to see the tree in Rockafella Centa. The things I do for love!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2828981161134238515?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2828981161134238515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2828981161134238515&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2828981161134238515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2828981161134238515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/12/overwhelming-feeling.html' title='The Overwhelming Feeling'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4765379410408789957</id><published>2010-12-01T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T12:29:15.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Turn Around and Explode</title><content type='html'>Things haven't changed too much really, I'm still reaching for that goal of getting home but every day it gets farther and farther away. Once again, my life is fucked over money, but i shouldnt be feeling guilty because it's not my fault.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I currently live in a house with 3 other roommates and Connor, we had a 5th roommate but she decided to skip out on our verbally agreed rent situation so we were left to pay her tab. This was pretty much my phone bill money, so it got shut off. Its so rainy and windy here it looks like the apocalypse outside. Winter is quickly approaching and I'm not looking forward to sitting inside. At least we got to move rooms and we have a bunch of new gaming systems to play with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;blerg. i hate everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4765379410408789957?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4765379410408789957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4765379410408789957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4765379410408789957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4765379410408789957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/12/turn-around-and-explode.html' title='The Turn Around and Explode'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6734702975864910063</id><published>2010-10-20T07:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T08:22:25.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Deal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div clss='blogium-image'&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TL74jxO06yI/AAAAAAAAAuY/WPgHq2ZOxlQ/Uploaded%20from%20Blogium.jpg'/ img width="250" img hieght="150"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I have figured it all out, think. For the past couple of weeks Connor and I have been brainstorming places that we could move when the lease is up. California has always been at the top of my list, and I had my heart set on San Diego. I think I'm ready to go home though. And by home I dont mean living with my parent, we (meaning my mom and I) have agreed that this is NOT an option. And I don't mean pacifica either, because frankly I will never call that shit hole full of shit hole people my home. If I move back I'm going to live in San Francisco, yeah it's expensive but I'm a hermit and every dollar I spend on rent will be put to good use. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it's anything I've learned by floating around for the last 20 years it's that no matter where you are you should be with your family. I never thought those words would ever come out of my mouth but it's true. I found something that makes my life stable and that's food. If you like what you do you are going to like your life, I just had to go out and find what I truly loved more than hating everyone and that's cooking and baking. I also had to find someone along side of me who I could learn from and someone who could learn from me and that's Connor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's teaching me how to be a social butterfly again. To talk at the people who you can't stand instead of being offended by their stupidity and arrogance, which I have to do quite often living here in New York. The difference between him and everyone else is that he wants a family, which means he is really mushy inside (but I won't get into that for your lunch's sake).  He wants to meet my family and I know they will just adore him, he fits snug like the last puzzle piece    In my life and I can't wait for them to meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also can't wait to be apart of my family's life. Olivia and Jagger need a person in their life to be the mediator between parent and friend, and I had that in my uncle Shaun. I want to teach them common sense about things my parents will tell them to avoid because they're parents and that's what they're supposed to do, like friend problems and boy/girl problems. In all honestly I'm just coming back to disapprove every one of my siblings suitors, no one will ever be good enough for my baby brother and sister, maybe I just feel that way because I know some day soon they will be crushed by the opposite sex so badly they want to die, and I want to be there for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also want to take them away on some weekends to give my parents a chance to love each other again. They never have time alone without a bedtime, and I want them to start sleeping in the same bed again. I understand my brothers a bit of a bed hog but they have been married for 8 years, they need to get a bigger bed or start acting like they love each other and TRY to love each other. I know they do, I've seen my mothers lovey eyes when she looks at him since I was 7 years old and I can't wait for them to fall back in love again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something else Connor has taught me, love can last. I was always a cynic believing that marriage can never work, but it can, I've seen it in his family. His mom and dad might not be together anymore but I can tell that his mom and stepdad David love each other very much. Thats why I like to go visit them all the time, they can deal with the stress in their lives because they have structure and teamwork in their daily lives. Everytime we go up there there is something new they've built together as a family in the garden or time they put in together working on the house, and I love that about them. I want my family to be this way too because it works and it keeps them healthy together, that's why Hannah and Jack are so smart and well behaved! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well enough of my sappy rant, just thought you all should know I'm at a different place in my life and I'm ready to be apart of my family's. I'm ready to bring home the lessons ive learned along this crazy path that still has a few more miles on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class='blogium-promo'&gt;&lt;small&gt;Posted from &lt;a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/"&gt;Blogium&lt;/a&gt; for iPhone&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6734702975864910063?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6734702975864910063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6734702975864910063&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6734702975864910063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6734702975864910063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/10/new-deal.html' title='The New Deal'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TL74jxO06yI/AAAAAAAAAuY/WPgHq2ZOxlQ/s72-c/Uploaded%20from%20Blogium.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-420051182988922635</id><published>2010-10-18T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T10:57:33.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New York Fall...again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div clss='blogium-image'&gt;&lt;img width="320" img height="420" img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TLzv2FIymvI/AAAAAAAAAuM/b81kTDJfq9o/Uploaded%20from%20Blogium.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The golden leaves are back just in time for me to not be ready for the cold again. I brought all of my winter clothes out which was almost like shopping for them all over again!  I quit my fancy job because it was making me unhappy, it's too serious for me. I like the pace of the cafe and the community in it.  I also like having free time to enjoy my life. I'd rather be a little less wealthy and get to spend time with my friends and Connor after work, than be rich and never have time to do anything.&lt;p class='blogium-promo'&gt;&lt;small&gt;Posted from &lt;a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/"&gt;Blogium&lt;/a&gt; for iPhone&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-420051182988922635?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/420051182988922635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=420051182988922635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/420051182988922635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/420051182988922635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/10/new-york-fallagain.html' title='The New York Fall...again!'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TLzv2FIymvI/AAAAAAAAAuM/b81kTDJfq9o/s72-c/Uploaded%20from%20Blogium.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5126829816247940719</id><published>2010-10-06T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T11:56:16.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Alone Time</title><content type='html'>The entire month of September I spent ALONE at home and working like a dog. Connor left on tour with his band Anal Warhead for a month across the country, but I got him back in one piece. It was fucking HELL in case you're wondering. There is only so many times you can say 'i miss you, i love you, can't wait to see you' without wanting to off yourself and/or reach through the phone for a quick kiss. I'm happy to have him home again, it almost felt like a limb was cut off because living in this house really takes a team effort. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my roommates, but I am beyond the feeling of wanting to party every night and being irresponsible for my own shit. I also feel like I never got to that point. I never wanted to party every night, I'm a hermit, we cook dinner, eat movies, (smoke weed), and chill out. Connor is too, which makes our relationship easy and comfy. He's an aries and i'm a gemini, do your freakin research! We were meant to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5126829816247940719?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5126829816247940719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5126829816247940719&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5126829816247940719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5126829816247940719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/10/alone-time.html' title='The Alone Time'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3172175107410072871</id><published>2010-09-20T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T13:42:19.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 500</title><content type='html'>This is my 500th post can you even believe it? I really hate reading back some times...my life has taken a lot of turns since the beginning but I still feel the same. Except I'm financially independent, I've started a career, and I've been through SIX boyfriends. I just can't make up my mind now can I? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I can say that I am content with my life at the moment. I have two jobs, an apartment I can afford, nice stuff (a new iPhone!), two kitties, and a darling boyfriend. I am more confident and I am less awkward, which is sweet! I wonder what I will be like in 5 years. Maybe I will be taller, you never know.  The next thing I want is a whole apartment to myself, my own kitchen, bathroom, and living room would be excellent. But I won't be settling in New York, with the hours I've been working it looks like i'll have enough money to move when my lease is up. Working long hours isn't hard when you see the pay check at the end.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm proud of me! And you should be too, because you know I've gone through the fiery rings of hell to get here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3172175107410072871?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3172175107410072871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3172175107410072871&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3172175107410072871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3172175107410072871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/09/500.html' title='The 500'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7022196166566384145</id><published>2010-09-10T20:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T20:35:03.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TIr3Yg0t5TI/AAAAAAAAAt8/eKPnW91ELRc/s1600/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIwNDIuanBn%3F%3D-714819"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TIr3Yg0t5TI/AAAAAAAAAt8/eKPnW91ELRc/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIwNDIuanBn%3F%3D-714819" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515492694168560946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;This is the boy who left me for all of September to go on tour with his band and leave me lonely. I haven't felt an ounce of happiness since he left. Except rediscovering Sonic Overload Radio, thanks Ashley!&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7022196166566384145?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7022196166566384145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7022196166566384145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7022196166566384145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7022196166566384145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/09/img02042jpg.html' title='The Boy'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TIr3Yg0t5TI/AAAAAAAAAt8/eKPnW91ELRc/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIwNDIuanBn%3F%3D-714819' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-329570129598247812</id><published>2010-09-02T14:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T14:53:40.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cut</title><content type='html'>My hours at work have been cut to shit, but my second job is going well. I have this Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off, so I'm going to spend them hanging out with Connor until he leaves Wednesday for a month. I sold my Xbox and bought a Wii, which is awesome because all the games are adorable. I got animal crossing, mario party 8, rayman raving rabbids, and elebits. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next month is going to royal blow. I'm not planning on quitting my first job just yet so I'll be working day and night for a while. Hopefully I'll start raking in the cash so I can start saving to move. The day can't come any closer, Albany is miserably hot and humid this week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got food poisoning for the first time last Tuesday which was a total blast, I just haven't felt right in the belly since then. I'm happy lounging with my cats and doing nothing, so thats good enough for now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-329570129598247812?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/329570129598247812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=329570129598247812&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/329570129598247812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/329570129598247812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/09/cut.html' title='The Cut'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-161664172078402603</id><published>2010-08-20T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T15:28:57.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TG71d9eZ4UI/AAAAAAAAAts/_E__9VtZRnY/s1600/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIxNTIuanBn%3F%3D-715488"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TG71d9eZ4UI/AAAAAAAAAts/_E__9VtZRnY/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIxNTIuanBn%3F%3D-715488" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507609289387794754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This is my new little baby. I could resist having him in my life, he's a precious baby angel. He has bright blue eyes! I named him Juni. This cheered me up quite a bit, plus i got a new job! I'm going to be working pantry at this fancy restaurant. It's kind of weird that I'm not baking, but the place is so nice and the chef said he has no problem training me since I'm new to it. It seems too good to be true, but it's a new place and I do have SOME experience. I am not quitting the cafe just yet, but in the next couple weeks I will be. I'm excited to be back in a real kitchen, like I had when i went to school. I won't have to deal with customers and I have to wear the coat! soo excited.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am starting a career, it's weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-161664172078402603?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/161664172078402603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=161664172078402603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/161664172078402603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/161664172078402603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/08/img02152jpg.html' title='The Little Guy'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/TG71d9eZ4UI/AAAAAAAAAts/_E__9VtZRnY/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDIxNTIuanBn%3F%3D-715488' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1189026205844675285</id><published>2010-08-16T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T13:18:38.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Loss</title><content type='html'>It's been almost 3 months since I stopped seeing Josh, and you'd think after this amount of time I'd go back to my bitch ways and hate him, but I don't. As nasty as he's been to me over the past couple months, you'd think I would hate him but I can't, even for as much as he hates me. Our relationship wasn't the boy and girl holding hands down the block, but it was fun, comfortable, and passionate. Our non-existent relationship still has meaning, its hateful, spiteful, and disturbing.  I never knew the person inside him that could be so cruel. I have kept my distance from him, I've stayed inside at night away from his prized territory, why wasn't it possible for people who are not associated with me to keep to themselves?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I understand, I'm doing a bad thing, but at this point what is the incentive to stop? There was a point about a week-in when i thought 'what the fuck am I doing? what have I done?' But there was something in the back of my head, an itch that I could not scratch, that kept me from being able to be in love with Josh for so long. I wish to something greater than myself that i would've never seen what I saw, because if i didn't then maybe I wouldn't have gone so crazy and been so miserable since then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought i could replace him with someone who does all the things he never did, but i shouldn't be looking for a replacement I shouldn't be looking for anything at all. I just feel like his chapter in my life was ended too soon and it's all my fault. I don't know what to do when my significant other starts ignoring and avoiding me, my first instinct is to get out of there before he does. Well there's no going back, no good enough excuses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It just really sucks to not have him to talk to, because I have no one on this coast who gives a shit about me now. All I want at this moment is to have someone agree with me that we were partners in this mess so I can die with knowing I wasn't the lonely asshole.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1189026205844675285?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1189026205844675285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1189026205844675285&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1189026205844675285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1189026205844675285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/08/loss.html' title='The Loss'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7597500430063538536</id><published>2010-08-12T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T17:00:31.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Danger There</title><content type='html'>"Fools rush in where wise men never go, but wise men never fall in love, so how are they to know?"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I lied. I was wrong and all that, but theres no going back. Josh hates me, he knows Connor and I have been seeing each other for a bit. I can't say it ended the way i hoped it would, there were three days of screaming, crying, and lots of anger towards each other. I've been going on bike rides to keep my head out of the water, but this week has been too below average for my sweet taste. My hours got cut in half this week because August has been slow, and the job hunt so far isn't successful. A lot of places drug test, and thats not really my style. I don't want to work some place where they're concerned about what i do on my free time. At my job now i show up every day and I show up on time. I've called in sick one time since i started there in January, not too shabby for a pot head is it? I get my bills paid and my responsibilities taken care of, but outside of work I'm a different person, and thats the way it should be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been hanging out with my roommates more often, and it's easier because they're out of the "scenester" loop, and they're on my side when i get the chance to complain about being harassed for three days. My house seems to be the only safe area now too, it's really the only place Connor and I can be without being afraid of outer drama seeping in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I've gotten a lot better at cooking, too. FOR REAL! I make something different every night, and the more I do the more I know. I successfully made a red thai curry last night with vegetables from Connor's mom's garden. And it wasn't disgusting! I'd make it again! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New tattoo also, from a super cool equipped roommate. They're California poppies!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7597500430063538536?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7597500430063538536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7597500430063538536&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7597500430063538536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7597500430063538536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/08/danger-there.html' title='The Danger There'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7230170463087660205</id><published>2010-07-31T18:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T18:58:28.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Decision</title><content type='html'>I've decided where I'm off to next. I'm pretty sure I'm going to shoot for San Diego's beach areas, I lived there as a kid and I'm looking forward to something mellow and charming. Its surprisingly cheaper than Santa Cruz, which i researched as well. No other cities really appealed to me, and I don't want to live in the Midwest. That cancels out a lot of places. I'm planning on getting a second job and getting the fuck out of here as soon as my lease is up. I'm not looking forward to moving again, but I am looking forward to something new. There seem to be plenty of food service jobs, and I want to try and sell some pies to local cafes, but theres a lot to be done before that.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I only have 300 or so more days left in New York. 6 months of that will be spent miserable again in the damn winter. The first thing I'm going to do when I get back is take my brother and sister to Disneyland!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7230170463087660205?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7230170463087660205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7230170463087660205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7230170463087660205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7230170463087660205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/07/decision.html' title='The Decision'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2475990929913336185</id><published>2010-07-29T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T19:24:00.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Weight</title><content type='html'>I feel like there is 1,000,000 pounds cozying up and making a home on my shoulders.  There are people my age opening bakeries with money their parents gave them, or money they've been given because of a freak accident. It just doesn't make any sense, I've jumped through all the hoops, I've obeyed, yet I still don't get a fucking hand out. I want to open my tiny pie shop and nest my house full of cute things. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got a letter in the mail saying that my absent father stopped making payments on the rest of my tuition last year. I owe them about 4,000 dollars now. I guess I was just too blind to see that people never change. He ruined my life from the beginning and now he's ruining my credit and making me poor. I also recently have been informed that i could die at any moment while driving my car because of the horrible rust underneath it. So now I'm car-less.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When am I going to getting a fucking break here? What the fuck must I do to stop life from fucking me so far up the ass that it makes me want to give up? Theres no way I can possibly fight back, except to be pissed off and sad that theres nothing i can do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I'll show you all. One day I'm going to have all that I want and get it by working hard. I wont take a hand out, I won't cut any corners. I am sick and tired of being shit on by everyone and everything in New York, I'm not going to take this anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2475990929913336185?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2475990929913336185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2475990929913336185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2475990929913336185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2475990929913336185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/07/weight.html' title='The Weight'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7140367864547306270</id><published>2010-07-19T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T15:16:32.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Payment</title><content type='html'>The time has come for me to pay off my debt to a small town outside of Albany for all of the ridiculous tickets my hunk of shit car has acquired in the last six months. In the end of all this I'll have paid the town $150.00, and in my line of work money is hard to come by.&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting sick of my job, maybe just bored not sick, but I am sick of being paid $8.00 an hour to do my boss's job and my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been recent news to me that my car is not worth fixing up, so the next step is borrowing a shit load of money from people who are obligated to like me through a disasterous marriage. Hopefully. If not, it looks like I'll be heading back west. I think it might be emotionally and physically draining for my family to have me back living there since I'm so set in my messy adult ways, I just can't bring myself to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what it is, I just can't get happy. Maybe its the dullness of the days gone by but I am growing tired of waking up early, going to work, dealing with everyone else's problems, and then going to bed. I'm looking to get a second job once the cold creeps back in a few months, an extra hundred a week will get me back to the beach faster, I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other non-depressing news I'm thinking of starting up a food blog. I've been talking about it for a while now, but I'm finally getting some ideas together. Nothing fancy, just what I ate and where I ate it. With my witty imput of course! Maybe the occasional picture or two, when my computer crawls back from the dead I'll make the attempt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7140367864547306270?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7140367864547306270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7140367864547306270&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7140367864547306270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7140367864547306270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/07/payment.html' title='The Payment'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8151498231205845400</id><published>2010-07-10T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T15:07:10.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hiatus</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the lack of posting, I've been in quite a bind for the last two months. Well I moved in, been living there for about a month and a half now, it's going pretty well. Milo is content and that's all I could ask for. I've learned not to expect much happiness in my life lately, so I'm just concerned with how comfortable my cat is.&lt;br /&gt;Josh and I are no longer together, and that's a drag because not only did I lose my first real life love, I lost my best friend. The kind of best friend who doesn't put up with your shit and can read your thoughts. But he wants nothing to do with me so what can I do?&lt;br /&gt;Things got out of hand at the last Graboids show, Connor got slapped and I got kicked in the back by said best friend. It honestly hurt much worse when he stabbed me in the back emotionally. But my back is fucked now, something about a pinched nerve sending pain down my left leg. What some people will do out of jealousy makes me fucking sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm planning my escape out of New York next June. I want to go back to San Diego but my budget is restricted and I won't make it alone, somewhere or anywhere else would be nice. There is nothing left for me to do in New York since I came here for Josh, so I'm ready to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm making life work for now, just scooting by day by day. I wouldn't say I'm miserable but I'm broke, alone and pissed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8151498231205845400?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8151498231205845400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8151498231205845400&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8151498231205845400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8151498231205845400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/07/hiatus.html' title='The Hiatus'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5552243914342738709</id><published>2010-05-07T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T18:28:08.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mexican food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new york'/><title type='text'>The Beginning</title><content type='html'>A lot has changed since the last time i posted. My computer is out of commission for right now, posting on a regular basis might be difficult. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got the apartment I wanted (I think?). I move in on June 1st, its in a cute little neighborhood in Albany, close enough to everything worth riding my bike for. I am pinched for money, and I'm scared but I'm trying not to worry too much about it. I bought some furniture and got a kitten because Josh is keeping our Nyx. I am really torn between being a grown up and being Josh's little pet, because sometimes I like it. I don't know what the future holds, I can't even tell you what I'm doing for my 20th birthday on the 28th of this month. I hope i wont spend it alone, most of all I'd like to spend it at home with my family but on any given day that is what I'd rather be doing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't seen my mom, dad, sister, or brother in almost a year. I feel like this lost little fish all alone in a sea of red sauce. C'mon New York! Where the fuck is the mexican food? I am beyond sick of New York food. I would give up ever eating italian food again just for one damn carne asada burrito from Las Pasaditas in Portland. Looks like I'll be heading out there in July! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All i do is work work work and I don't hate it. It's weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5552243914342738709?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5552243914342738709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5552243914342738709&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5552243914342738709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5552243914342738709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning.html' title='The Beginning'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1470296122432983898</id><published>2010-04-13T09:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T09:09:55.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pest</title><content type='html'>Life has never been forgiving, kind, or respectful to me. I am going to start taking shit back, like my dignity and the control over my own destiny. I am sick of depending on men to help me, a favor turns into a lifetime commitment and I am not a piece of property to be shuffled around. &lt;br&gt;I found a place to live in Albany, just waiting to hear if I got it or not. With my luck I&amp;#39;ll be stuck in this cave for a few more months. &lt;br&gt;This has a little to do with the Josh I know now, one moment he&amp;#39;ll be my best friend and the next he&amp;#39;ll be my enemy. And if he says moving out is the end of all ties then that&amp;#39;ll be it. I am sick of ultimatums. &lt;br&gt;Bizzaro world seems like it will never happen but I&amp;#39;m commited to making it work somehow. The entire universe is against me, I can feel it sometimes when I&amp;#39;m sleeping alone.&lt;p&gt;I had a dream last night that Josh and I were sent to a rehab facility. They said the only way Josh would get better was if we were seperated, so I got sent to a different one. I just cried the entire time, I sat in a chair all day and cried for Josh. He came to visit me once, he was all better with a giant smile on his face and I was still a fucking mess. For some reason Christian was there and we were smoking outside when Josh came outside and looked at me then walked away. There was something in his eyes, I don&amp;#39;t know if it was pity or apathy, but it made me feel like the lowest human being on earth. I woke up soaked in sweat, I fell back asleep only to have the nightmare begin where it left off. &lt;br&gt;I was sitting in the chair, smoking again, watching t.v. when I got up to enter what must&amp;#39;ve been the mock dining room because it was just Josh sitting at a table with two plates of fancy food. I sat down and started eating it when I realized it was a familiar looking womb. Josh gave me the apathetic pity look again and walked away from me. I ran outside into pouring rain and he was gone, one of the counselors came outside and tried to talk me out of this fit of rage but no words could come out of my mouth. It was like I was a well person who was stuck in someplace where well people do not belong but I couldn&amp;#39;t say a fucking word. I woke up furiously crying in a puddle of cold sweat.&lt;p&gt;The dream was so incredibly real I felt like I was waiting in that chair for a month. I don&amp;#39;t understand the signifigance of it to my life, but whatever it was I don&amp;#39;t ever want to go back to it again. &lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1470296122432983898?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1470296122432983898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1470296122432983898&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1470296122432983898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1470296122432983898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/04/pest.html' title='The Pest'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3328000165428911071</id><published>2010-03-26T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T19:45:36.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unwelcome Matt</title><content type='html'>I have been living in Josh's house too long, I'm feeling unwanted. I am also feeling helpless in this situation, seeing as I have nowhere to go and no money to bring with me. I don't know how my life got this way, I thought I was keeping track of what I was fucking up and it seems as though I just wasn't paying enough attention. I've dug myself so far into this stupid fucking cave and now I can't get out without help. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm about to make a decision that will change the rest of my life forever, no matter which way it goes. Sorry internet, but you can't be trusted. Just know that my brain is eating my stomach alive and I'm in a shit load of pain. O mother where art thou? I need you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And i don't want anything to do with men anymore. I love them for a little while and then I snap into destruction mode and tear their feelings apart. Sorry bout that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Coughing Fit living room show was crazy, I always look forward to seeing them play. Picked up a foil cover 7"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back to the real world..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3328000165428911071?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3328000165428911071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3328000165428911071&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3328000165428911071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3328000165428911071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/03/unwelcome-matt.html' title='The Unwelcome Matt'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4121188806956911875</id><published>2010-03-19T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T16:18:18.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Last Day</title><content type='html'>Today is the last day of winter, and possibly the last day of my sanity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4121188806956911875?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4121188806956911875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4121188806956911875&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4121188806956911875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4121188806956911875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/03/last-day.html' title='The Last Day'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8955960936863859221</id><published>2010-03-16T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T09:31:42.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Familiar Feeling</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5-ybgJjv3I/AAAAAAAAAtk/Ck7zhgceKdM/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3OTEuanBn%3F%3D-702835"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5-ybgJjv3I/AAAAAAAAAtk/Ck7zhgceKdM/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3OTEuanBn%3F%3D-702835"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449270259697827698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I&amp;#39;ve been hanging out with Quincy the hedgehog a lot lately. He&amp;#39;s the only animal in our house who doesn&amp;#39;t get enough attention, rightfully so because he hates it. He wasn&amp;#39;t people trained as a youngin so he&amp;#39;s scared of everything. Every time its too loud or too bright or you get too close, he curls up into a little spikey ball and clucks. I&amp;#39;m serious! He clucks!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;On a different note, all of my stomach issues are making a vicious comeback. I was doing so well! For almost 8 months I could eat without feeling sick and wake up without wanting to puke, but now it&amp;#39;s all back and I haven&amp;#39;t eaten a real meal in about a week. I wish our country wasn&amp;#39;t so greedy so I could have health insurance. I haven&amp;#39;t been to the doctor in almost 2 years now because of it, and I don&amp;#39;t think its fair, expecially because I have been working full time (and going to school full time for some of it) for the entire duration of those 2 years. Alas, I have never been offered affordable health care by my employers. Maybe someday in my future the people of my generation will ball up and overthrow the government, I doubt it, but the first thing I&amp;#39;d do as president is at least give everyone the option of seeing a doctor without having your bank account raped. But if you guys want to keep living your lavish lifestyles while the rest of us suffer, then I hope you&amp;#39;re truely happy. &lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8955960936863859221?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8955960936863859221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8955960936863859221&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8955960936863859221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8955960936863859221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/03/familiar-feeling.html' title='The Familiar Feeling'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5-ybgJjv3I/AAAAAAAAAtk/Ck7zhgceKdM/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3OTEuanBn%3F%3D-702835' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2355829772200928648</id><published>2010-03-10T07:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T08:00:27.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5fCG4Uh9vI/AAAAAAAAAtc/H4GWXXAB2Dw/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA4NDEuanBn%3F%3D-727684"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5fCG4Uh9vI/AAAAAAAAAtc/H4GWXXAB2Dw/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA4NDEuanBn%3F%3D-727684"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447035697781405426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The time has come finally, for the weather to stop being such a frigid asshole. I got my car on the road just in time to enjoy open windows again. I was outside in shorts painting a picnic table for two days! It looks like a popsicle.&lt;p&gt;The Graboids finally have a demo and a Myspace page, check it out! Myspace.com/graboidsband. We played our third show last night, smoked too much and forgot the lyrics to our cover but whatever! It was a good time. Next show is April 14th with Crooked Teeth @ Oddfellow&amp;#39;s Hall.&lt;p&gt;We are starting to make plans to move out, how exciting!&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2355829772200928648?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2355829772200928648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2355829772200928648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2355829772200928648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2355829772200928648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring.html' title='The Spring'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5fCG4Uh9vI/AAAAAAAAAtc/H4GWXXAB2Dw/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA4NDEuanBn%3F%3D-727684' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3370510203632581429</id><published>2010-03-05T08:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T08:45:29.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Most Painful Yet</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5E1KZGN_qI/AAAAAAAAAtU/cUWiop8szOU/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3MjUuanBn%3F%3D-729657"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5E1KZGN_qI/AAAAAAAAAtU/cUWiop8szOU/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3MjUuanBn%3F%3D-729657"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445191877119573666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Brutal stick n&amp;#39; pokes. I don&amp;#39;t think I&amp;#39;ve ever felt so much pain with a needle in my entire life. You definately need to be drunk to handle this. Thanks Mike!&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3370510203632581429?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3370510203632581429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3370510203632581429&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3370510203632581429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3370510203632581429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/03/most-painful-yet.html' title='The Most Painful Yet'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S5E1KZGN_qI/AAAAAAAAAtU/cUWiop8szOU/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA3MjUuanBn%3F%3D-729657' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6834894651714931694</id><published>2010-02-24T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T09:37:11.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Turn Around, Maybe</title><content type='html'>Its hard for me to be in relationships, I guess. Some how I always end up being a bitch even if things in life are going my way for once. I just feel like I am wasting time. Josh feel like I am getting tired of him because I am starting to do things on my own again. I'm starting to figure out my surroundings and I want to explore them on my own sometimes. Is it that much trouble to want to be alone? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, as you may know, am a very excitable person. I daydream constantly and I get worked up (good and bad) about the tiniest little things. Thats just the way I am. It's really hard to be with someone who is only excited when good things happen to them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am ready to come out of this fucking horribly depressing cocoon I've spent the last 19 years in, and no boy is going to keep me from it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6834894651714931694?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6834894651714931694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6834894651714931694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6834894651714931694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6834894651714931694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/02/turn-around-maybe.html' title='The Turn Around, Maybe'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6285565730807756571</id><published>2010-02-13T12:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T12:57:18.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good News, Finally</title><content type='html'>FINALLY! After all this time i have happy news to deliver. I am finally getting my car on the road this tuesday, Graboids played an awesome first show at Oddfellows last saturday, and I am raking in the dough.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did my taxes, i get 800 back. FUCK YES.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Graboids played an impromptu show at J Krak's Sweet 16x2 party. I drank way too much, and fucking went for it all. I am very proud us! We are recording the demo very very soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am working all the time but its easy and fun, I seem to be making a lot of money very quickly. When i get my taxes back I'm going to pay off Josh's parents for the move and get a tattoo! Then i can begin saving for our apartment which we can get also very very soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything is easy right now! Can't wait for everything to fall apart again..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6285565730807756571?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6285565730807756571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6285565730807756571&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6285565730807756571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6285565730807756571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-news-finally.html' title='The Good News, Finally'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5944471484716426498</id><published>2010-02-04T19:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T19:23:19.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2uPJ_4a3zI/AAAAAAAAAtM/YpDLF9ftuTE/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjEuanBn%3F%3D-799416"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2uPJ_4a3zI/AAAAAAAAAtM/YpDLF9ftuTE/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjEuanBn%3F%3D-799416"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434594777282305842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Cream puffs I made at the new work!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;My new job is going really well, I make sandwiches, take orders, clean up, and hang out. I am learning how to run my own business by working at these tiny places. The fancy restaurant I wait at on sundays is tghe best place I&amp;#39;ve ever worked. I did the dessert menu for their new years ever dinner, and they decided to keep me on in the front of the house just until summer when I can bake and eventually bartend. I&amp;#39;m pretty excited to make some good money.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The restaurant was named one of the 25 best farm-to-table restaurants in the country, and its amazing that everyone who makes it happen is under the age of 26. I love the food industry, you learn something new at every place you work, everyone does it differently. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This will also be good experience for New York City moving time at the end of summer. It&amp;#39;s cool to learn all these different jobs in the restaurant, I get to work a (sandwich) line, I wait tables, I get to be chef. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;m thankful the job situation is finally settled. I have a routine now, which is weird, but I still get to stay out late every night. I don&amp;#39;t mind working on the weekends, because it doesn&amp;#39;t matter what day of the week it is, we still drink heavily.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Red Stripe is my fuckin&amp;#39; dawg.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5944471484716426498?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5944471484716426498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5944471484716426498&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5944471484716426498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5944471484716426498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-work.html' title='The New Work'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2uPJ_4a3zI/AAAAAAAAAtM/YpDLF9ftuTE/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjEuanBn%3F%3D-799416' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2612878111839499335</id><published>2010-02-03T20:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T20:05:18.282-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Break</title><content type='html'>Josh and I decided to take a break from smokin&amp;#39; dat green, and we&amp;#39;re sort of sticking to it. I&amp;#39;m not as sleepy I guess.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Tonight was an excellent Graboids practice despite the PA mystery and having to go buy a new microphone. We have a total of 9 songs now, and we&amp;#39;re playing two covers. Our songs are short so it will be nice to fit so many songs in our first set. I hope people like us, shit. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Once our recordings are done we will start a MySpace Music page so everyone can hear a few songs.(Despite your nasty comments I happen to enjoy this style of music so check your fucking face). &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I wrote a song about pizza and another one about hating straight edge nazis. The subjects vary, on a quite large scale, and the lyrics are all crap. Its hard to fit brilliance inside of a single minute of music that sounds like it&amp;#39;s on fast forward. Darby Crash manages to do this extremely well and that is one reason why the Germs are/were fucking great. If you don&amp;#39;t believe me read the lyrics to Land of Treason.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Having this blog makes me hate myself.  &lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2612878111839499335?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2612878111839499335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2612878111839499335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2612878111839499335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2612878111839499335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/02/break.html' title='The Break'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1125731024374706492</id><published>2010-01-30T18:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T18:12:35.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Recent Image</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2TnE8bTQeI/AAAAAAAAAtE/TdtX9rJ03oM/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDYuanBn%3F%3D-755509"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2TnE8bTQeI/AAAAAAAAAtE/TdtX9rJ03oM/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDYuanBn%3F%3D-755509"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432721122641789410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This is what I look like these days..&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1125731024374706492?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1125731024374706492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1125731024374706492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1125731024374706492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1125731024374706492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/recent-image.html' title='The Recent Image'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/S2TnE8bTQeI/AAAAAAAAAtE/TdtX9rJ03oM/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDYuanBn%3F%3D-755509' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5724856778183516368</id><published>2010-01-30T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T12:46:38.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mix</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Tramadol + k + alcohol + green smoke, will send your body and mind on a very expansive trip through the inner workings of your brain. Look how funny I am! Seeing Josh's K face is HILARIOUS!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5724856778183516368?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5724856778183516368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5724856778183516368&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5724856778183516368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5724856778183516368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/mix.html' title='The Mix'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-23726179224960069</id><published>2010-01-25T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T12:51:17.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Interview</title><content type='html'>Today I watched GG Allin's last interview on Jane Whitney's old talk show, I had seen the beginning with the Club Kids a few times, but I never saw GG on it! I wonder what happened to the cop in the middle of all of them trying to make his point. It's sad that people probably will still agree with him too. It's hilarious how both the club kids (Richie Rich went on to do Heatherette!) and GG Allin are fucking legends now, and that cop is either dead or old and bitter still.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like how in both the Jerry Springer interview and the Jane Whitney interview all the opposing opinions are coming from the fucking pigs, lawyers, and parents. Every person who could possibly hate punk more than anything on earth.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Rock n' roll is the fury from within you, rock n' roll is revenge, rock n' roll is your enemy, and I am your enemy." - G. G. Allin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-23726179224960069?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/23726179224960069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=23726179224960069&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/23726179224960069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/23726179224960069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/interview.html' title='The Interview'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6104293296296695975</id><published>2010-01-18T10:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T10:39:48.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Vitamin Feeling</title><content type='html'>I read somewhere that a special hallucinogen can lessen symptoms of depression, for weeks afterwards not just the next day. The last two days I have been optimistic and happy, so maybe their experiment was right.&lt;p&gt;I am going to a working interview tomorrow, at a cafe pretty close by. I am half hopeing I get to work there and the other half wants me to sleep in for the rest of my life. I am excited to make some money and get my car on the road. &lt;p&gt;I would kill someone for Mexican food right now&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6104293296296695975?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6104293296296695975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6104293296296695975&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6104293296296695975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6104293296296695975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/vitamin-feeling.html' title='The Vitamin Feeling'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5727925375881999732</id><published>2010-01-15T22:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T22:15:56.595-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Vitamin</title><content type='html'>A few friends, josh and myself took a trip with kristina yesterday. My whole body felt like a cartoon, drunk and quirked somehow. Communication and mobility were especially difficult but incoherent screaming was easy&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5727925375881999732?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5727925375881999732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5727925375881999732&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5727925375881999732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5727925375881999732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/vitamin.html' title='The Vitamin'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5739594998118100076</id><published>2010-01-11T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T10:09:25.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dissapointment</title><content type='html'>So, New York isn't really working out. Things between Josh and I have hit the fan, I don't have a job, a car, or any money. I'm completely drained of any ambition or faith in myself to continue living like this. It has been close to 5 months since I've felt comfortable or happy. Upstate New York has nothing to offer me except the freezing cold, but I knew this all before I moved here. I have spent almost my entire teenage life chasing after my heart as it bounced from one boy to the next from one state to the next, I just want to be alone and not have to please anyone else. I want to go where I want and figure out what the fuck I'm still doing here and what I'm supposed to do in the future. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every day I wish I owned a VW bus to drive down the pacific coast into South America. Off the radar, out of the system, 86'd from life. This will never happen, because 6 months from now I will still be suffering somewhere with no money, no car, and no ambition.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If it would make my family feel better, I'd crawl into a hole made of glass so even though I would be hiding from the world, they could still see me and i wouldn't feel so guilty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started this blog three years ago depressed, angry, and confused. I don't think anything has changed at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5739594998118100076?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5739594998118100076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5739594998118100076&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5739594998118100076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5739594998118100076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/dissapointment.html' title='The Dissapointment'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1116418788427653146</id><published>2010-01-09T09:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T09:43:11.378-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drive To MD</title><content type='html'>Josh, John Torn, and myself are on our way to Baltimore to see Integrity, Gehenna, Ringworm, and Pulling Teeth! Starkweather was supposed to be playing but I have heard that they are not. 5 hours on the snowy road in the backseat is the best.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1116418788427653146?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1116418788427653146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1116418788427653146&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1116418788427653146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1116418788427653146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/drive-to-md.html' title='The Drive To MD'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4641879927635061416</id><published>2010-01-06T13:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T13:48:45.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Long Hair!</title><content type='html'>------Original Message------&lt;br&gt;To: Blogger&lt;br&gt;Subject: The Long Hair!&lt;br&gt;Sent: Jan 6, 2010 4:42 PM&lt;p&gt;Its been a full year since I cut all of my blonde hair off, and look at it now!&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4641879927635061416?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4641879927635061416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4641879927635061416&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4641879927635061416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4641879927635061416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2010/01/long-hair.html' title='The Long Hair!'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1729934387812735616</id><published>2009-12-20T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T19:20:18.541-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth Shall Set Me Behind</title><content type='html'>There is no way to describe the feeling of finding recent naked pictures of your boyfriend's ex girlfriend in his email inbox. The bad part is that I wasn't snooping, they were just there. I was looking for the recordings Mike was supposed to send us of our band practicing the other night. I wish he would've had a great excuse, too. But he didn't, and I am stuck here wondering where I should be stuck. The worst part is that I never thought he would do it to me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remember over the summer when she came to visit and it was the end of the world because I was the bitch girlfriend asking questions about why she was even there. I was reassured time and time again that she "mean't nothing," and was "just a friend." He has spent the last year making me trust him when she's around, but I'm not fucking stupid. Remember last New Years Eve when he was here in New York at a party with her "flirting" and "maybe kissing" and I had to hear it from the other side of the country? Guess who was the crazy one then too. This is making me question every single second that he has ever spoken to me, I don't know when he's told the truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is my best fucking friend on earth. We wake up together, we eat together, we hang out together, we play in a band together, we go to sleep together, and to tell you the truth I don't think I could do that with anyone else. But now I feel like I can't look at him the same anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I wasn't stuck here in New York, I would not be here in our room. I'm stuck between a cheating boyfriend and being broke. It is quite possibly one of the worst places to be stuck. On top of all this, the job at the farm is boring and mindless work, easy money. I need something to occupy my mind, not numb it. Josh has already done that for me this week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;here are those fucking recordings anyways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=SY66EFEJ" target="_blank" rel="nofollow" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), &amp;quot;bfe092a162a0627566280ec6cc1005c1&amp;quot;, event)" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;http://www.megaupload.com/?d=SY66EFEJ&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=LVE4ILB1" target="_blank" rel="nofollow" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), &amp;quot;bfe092a162a0627566280ec6cc1005c1&amp;quot;, event)" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;http://www.megaupload.com/?d=LVE4ILB1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1729934387812735616?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1729934387812735616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1729934387812735616&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1729934387812735616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1729934387812735616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/12/truth-shall-sent-me-behind.html' title='The Truth Shall Set Me Behind'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2388775594302658240</id><published>2009-12-14T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T12:19:30.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Let Down</title><content type='html'>I am running really low on money. I need 600 dollars to get my car on the road now, I still owe Josh's parents 600 dollars, and the bills are piling up. I dont understand how the world expects me to start living. I went to college, I moved out on my own without any help from my parents, I got a job where they treat me like complete shit, and I save money. But it's still not enough. I moved to New York so I could start a life of my own and be a responsible adult, but I just seem to be slipping farther and farther into a giant hole. Everyone is still dictating how I should live my life and making me do tons of shit that I don't want to do. And it's different from being younger because the shit I didn't want to do was homework or something ridiculously easy, and now there are consequences. I work so fucking hard week after week and I have yet to get anything rewarding out of it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On top of all this, Josh's sister hates me because I didn't go to two dentists appointments that she made for me that I told her to cancel because I don't have any insurance or money. She calls me today and tells me she made me another appointment for this thursday and she wants me to watch her kids on wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I wake up every morning wishing I hadn't, just so I could avoid all the bullshit that everyone else throws on me. I wish i owned a camper van so I could drive down the pacific coast off the radar and live on the beach. I hate this fucking country and I hate everyone around me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2388775594302658240?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2388775594302658240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2388775594302658240&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2388775594302658240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2388775594302658240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/12/let-down.html' title='The Let Down'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7219749419460397784</id><published>2009-12-13T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T17:18:03.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cro Mags Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SyWSS_AugmI/AAAAAAAAAs4/9X_fAUn497c/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMDcuanBn%3F%3D-783699"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SyWSS_AugmI/AAAAAAAAAs4/9X_fAUn497c/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMDcuanBn%3F%3D-783699"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414894981832671842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I saw the Cro-Mags play last night at Bogies in Albany. Let me start by saying that I will never attend another show at Bogies. I have tried my hardest to stay away from tough guy hardcore assholes, and now I know where they all coagulate. Besides this, people were going off for the fucking Cro Mags per usual and I was completely enjoying myself. Right Brigade cover was righteous. The best part of the night was watching them soundcheck. Josh was playing in the opening band so we got to watch the magic happen in an empty room. We heard them cover Banned in DC and 12XU (minor threat version). I don&amp;#39;t think anything could ever top that. Wow.&lt;p&gt;There is much more Cro Mags to see, and I know this isn&amp;#39;t the last time.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7219749419460397784?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7219749419460397784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7219749419460397784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7219749419460397784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7219749419460397784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/12/cro-mags-part-2.html' title='The Cro Mags Part 2'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SyWSS_AugmI/AAAAAAAAAs4/9X_fAUn497c/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMDcuanBn%3F%3D-783699' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1527090547583296068</id><published>2009-12-10T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T02:37:54.681-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Passive</title><content type='html'>It is 5:30 am and I just got back from passive aggressively leaving my job. My last day was to be Friday, but I decided that I didn't feel like dealing with their shit today so I left him a note saying adios. He has fucked me over so many times in the last three months that I've worked there, that I didn't really feel like helping him out on our largest production day, or ever again. It was an extremely shitty thing to do to your employer, but he is an extremely shitty person so I don't feel too bad. Work should be challenging, not incriminating. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My new job offers me health and dental insurance, about 3 more dollars an hour, and it's in the field of my choice (which is primarily bread baking). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No more fucking pastries, pizza dough bagels, and improper techniques. I feel like I'm actually going to be able to use my schooling at this new place, instead of being taught everything over completely ass backwards.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, it snowed about 6 inches yesterday, and its the most snow ive ever seen fall in my life. We built a snowman with a mohawk, unfortunately he killed himself shortly before I left for work this morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1527090547583296068?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1527090547583296068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1527090547583296068&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1527090547583296068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1527090547583296068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/12/passive.html' title='The Passive'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6332953931894473701</id><published>2009-12-07T11:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T11:46:01.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Snow</title><content type='html'>It started snowing on saturday and it was beautiful. Very cold, but beautiful. I am about to quit my job on wednesday. I am nervous because they are going to be huge assholes about it. I think if they are I am just going to walk out and never go back, what can they do then? If I just never show up and never answer their phone calls, they can&amp;#39;t punish me for quiting. I still haven&amp;#39;t heard anything from the farm, but its my fault. I took so long to get back to her, I just had no time. I&amp;#39;m not worried about finding a job, I&amp;#39;d rather be jobless for a while than have to work at this place. Plus, the asshole was going to make me work all the week of christmas so he could go on a vacation AGAIN. I&amp;#39;m covering for him this entire week because he is on vacation. On wednesday I&amp;#39;m giving him my weeks notice, so I don&amp;#39;t look like a giant asshole quiting the week before christmas, I am the giant asshole quiting two weeks before christmas. Ugh, I just can&amp;#39;t deal with people yelling at me. I chose the wrong career path.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6332953931894473701?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6332953931894473701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6332953931894473701&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6332953931894473701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6332953931894473701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/12/snow.html' title='The Snow'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2200785716139480145</id><published>2009-11-15T18:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T18:24:31.639-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fleeting Year</title><content type='html'>------Original Message------&lt;br&gt;To: Blogger&lt;br&gt;Subject: The Fleeting Year&lt;br&gt;Sent: Nov 15, 2009 9:15 PM&lt;p&gt;Halloween came and went, I&amp;#39;ve just been making it rain for the past couple of weeks. I&amp;#39;ve been saving most of my money. My shitty car is still not on the road, its been almost a month. I feel like its cursed, I don&amp;#39;t quite trust it yet. I have a job interview at this new place, I don&amp;#39;t really like the place I&amp;#39;m at now, and I don&amp;#39;t make enough for the amount of slave work they&amp;#39;re giving me. I forget that since I have a degree now, I should technically by the law of good business, be getting paid at LEAST 10. There are very few college educated bakers up here, they expect a lot out of me. The holidays are coming up and I&amp;#39;m about to work very long hours. I will be rich at the end though. I want to pay Josh&amp;#39;s dad back partially, and get a tattoo! Its been a while. I&amp;#39;m not sure what I want to get yet. I think I deserve a reward.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2200785716139480145?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2200785716139480145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2200785716139480145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2200785716139480145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2200785716139480145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/11/fleeting-year.html' title='The Fleeting Year'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3790357698127848131</id><published>2009-10-26T20:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:18:42.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The True Love</title><content type='html'>------Original Message------&lt;br&gt;To: Blogger&lt;br&gt;Subject: The True Love&lt;br&gt;Sent: Oct 26, 2009 11:15 PM&lt;p&gt;I wish my body was fueled by Miller High Life so I could drink it all the time, it is truely delicious. &lt;p&gt;Josh and I started a band with our friend connor, we don&amp;#39;t have a drummer yet though. We&amp;#39;ve written 4 song so far, I&amp;#39;m singing and I guess I&amp;#39;m a bit nervous but I think I will just have to be a little drunk before we play. I don&amp;#39;t mind. I tried Jameson today, it was better tasting than Fernet. I really hate it, even though it is fancy. &lt;p&gt;My weekend is over, time for work again. When I think about, my job is really not that bad. I wish I got pain more.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3790357698127848131?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3790357698127848131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3790357698127848131&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3790357698127848131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3790357698127848131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/10/true-love.html' title='The True Love'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-521830706782644296</id><published>2009-10-12T13:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T13:29:33.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fall</title><content type='html'>------Original Message------&lt;br&gt;To: Blogger&lt;br&gt;Subject: The Fall&lt;br&gt;Sent: Oct 12, 2009 4:23 PM&lt;p&gt;Fall has arrived in New York. It&amp;#39;s getting very cold, there hasn&amp;#39;t been a day above 55 since the start of the season. I&amp;#39;ve just been working like a dog and losing lots of sleep. I still haven&amp;#39;t found a car and I still don&amp;#39;t have any savings really. We&amp;#39;ve been looking at apartments but that is a long time coming. Living with Josh&amp;#39;s parents is hard, and I&amp;#39;m uncomfortable. Some days I really feel like a fool for moving here, it isn&amp;#39;t any more glamorous than any other place I&amp;#39;ve lived, maybe just a lot prettier in the autumn. I think about moving back everyday, but I came here for Josh and he isn&amp;#39;t going to budge as long as rent is free and the band is still together. I feel stuck.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-521830706782644296?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/521830706782644296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=521830706782644296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/521830706782644296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/521830706782644296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall.html' title='The Fall'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3556342427258726985</id><published>2009-10-04T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T19:29:03.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final Product</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SslZ743NjXI/AAAAAAAAAsw/ku29m5q7cf0/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSmFnZ2VyIGZ1bm55IGhhIGhhLmpwZw%3D%3D%3F%3D-743882"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SslZ743NjXI/AAAAAAAAAsw/ku29m5q7cf0/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSmFnZ2VyIGZ1bm55IGhhIGhhLmpwZw%3D%3D%3F%3D-743882"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388937314536623474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The final product of my personal life ruining is dull. New York is not anything like what I dreamt about for years. To be honest with you its like Portland with more people and lots of unnessesary advertising. I really miss it there, even the shitty hipsters. I go to work most days at 3am and work between 10 and 13 hours a day. I like the job, just not the hours or my sexist, extremely Italian, boss. It is not at all glamorous, most of the people who work there are over 40, except for the sluts who close at night in the cafe. &lt;br&gt;Maybe I will convince Josh to move back if the band goes sour, but I doubt it. I feel a little trapped. I don&amp;#39;t have a car yet, either. I&amp;#39;m currently at the band practice, but going to these make me angry because its mostly them fucking around and playing a few songs every few minutes. It makes me feel silly for moving out here so Josh could play with them again. I really miss Safeway and nice people, even if they were a little fake. Maybe I just need to toughen up.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Things are really hard right now. &lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3556342427258726985?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3556342427258726985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3556342427258726985&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3556342427258726985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3556342427258726985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/10/final-product.html' title='The Final Product'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SslZ743NjXI/AAAAAAAAAsw/ku29m5q7cf0/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSmFnZ2VyIGZ1bm55IGhhIGhhLmpwZw%3D%3D%3F%3D-743882' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-14859286410883080</id><published>2009-09-15T19:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T19:17:42.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New York Life</title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;m here! been here for &amp;#39;bout 2  weeks now, everyhing looks really different and real, thre are real houses like we&amp;#39;ve seen in books and lots of real trees and real people. I&amp;#39;m glad to be here. i got a job working as an assistant pastry chef at a good bakery in a historic old town. I&amp;#39;m excited to start over and have things of my own. expensive responsible things. manhattan tomorrow!&lt;p&gt;----------&lt;br&gt;Sent from my Verizon Wireless mobile phone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-14859286410883080?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/14859286410883080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=14859286410883080&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/14859286410883080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/14859286410883080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-york-life.html' title='The New York Life'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-7918515501479702059</id><published>2009-08-30T18:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T18:56:45.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Northeast</title><content type='html'>I am sort of in the north east states now. We are about to cross into Ohio from Indiana. We tried to get hot dogs in Chicago but sat in an hour of traffic instead. Luckily we got some delicious food from a co-op in Madison in the morning before we left Wisconsin. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Josh and I ate at L&amp;#39;etouile on Friday night, where his friend is cooking at. I feel honored to even been able to eat there, the food was so incredible. It&amp;#39;s sad that we have to go to places like that to get fresh, real food. It&amp;#39;s a luxury to be able to eat food that hasn&amp;#39;t been packaged, preserved, or processed. I could go on for hours about this, l&amp;#39;ll stop myself.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We took a few strolls down State St., in the trendy part of Madison. There were a bunch of college-kid marketed shops, a few mediocre pizza places, and one very cool record store called Ear Wax.the sign said &amp;quot;punk and metaI&amp;quot; on it so we definately wanted to see what was up. I bought an Infest back patch, so kill me! I know I&amp;#39;m not crusty enough for it, but it was five dollars. Josh got a rare Melvins tape for 2 dollars.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The cooks snuck me into a few local bars. Since all the college kids were back it was sort of easy. I saw a lot of puke and some dude peeing in the middle of the sidewalk with zero shame. All in all Madison was really really fun, everyone wanted to have a conversation and/or use our cell phones. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We are skipping the rock n roll hall of fame because we are running dangerously low on cash. And all these mother fucking toll booths on these mother fucking freeways are using up all my change.  Only 10 more hours till Philly. &lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-7918515501479702059?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/7918515501479702059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=7918515501479702059&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7918515501479702059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/7918515501479702059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/northeast.html' title='The Northeast'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2086509726725321634</id><published>2009-08-29T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T12:18:43.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Half Way</title><content type='html'>We are about half way on our road trip to New York. We decided to skip out on a few things because we are running legitimately low on cash. We aren't going to the Rock N' Roll hall of fame because we heard it was lame for the price, and we're skipping out on Hershey because it's way too expensive to get in right now. We are staying in Madison Wisconsin for another day to check things out, and thats where I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blogging&lt;/span&gt; from right now. A coffee shop in trendy Madison Wisconsin. I feel so lame!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have eaten some really delicious food and some really horrible horrible food. We are off to Chicago tomorrow, then driving straight to Philly for the Lightning Bolt show and then to New York.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2086509726725321634?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2086509726725321634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2086509726725321634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2086509726725321634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2086509726725321634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/half-way.html' title='The Half Way'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5070391931697630800</id><published>2009-08-20T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T12:28:36.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Second Guess</title><content type='html'>I've spent this week being pissed off, I can't help it. I'm broke, have so much to do, and I'm trying to please everyone at the same time. I'm having second thoughts about moving now, but I can't stay here either. It's days like this when I wish that I never moved to Oregon in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5070391931697630800?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5070391931697630800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5070391931697630800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5070391931697630800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5070391931697630800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/second-guess.html' title='The Second Guess'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6556475942638847066</id><published>2009-08-13T14:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T14:59:54.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Room</title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;ve been sitting in the chemo room with my grandma since 9 30 this morning. I&amp;#39;ve been trying to sleep but I can&amp;#39;t because I feel like death is watching me. Everyone is in surprisingly good spirits, but there&amp;#39;s this dark cloud that creeps in every once in a while. &lt;p&gt;This man who left a little while go had a Phd in economics, his wife was talking about all the awards he&amp;#39;s won. He could barely speak, he had lung cancer. It was sad to listen to this woman speak about her genius of a husband who can&amp;#39;t talk at all now. &lt;p&gt;Death is so scary, not because it might be long and painful, but because its the end.&lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6556475942638847066?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6556475942638847066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6556475942638847066&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6556475942638847066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6556475942638847066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/room.html' title='The Room'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2498901120554789990</id><published>2009-08-10T08:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T08:23:35.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Loss of Trust</title><content type='html'>If it isn't obvious, I've got some issues with trusting people. So when I do finally come around and after months of good times, you deliberately betray me, I have a legit reason to lose my fucking mind with anger. The two people I trusted most out here have me questioning their motives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danielle, one of the best friends I've made out here, tried to get me fired from the place we both work by trying to make me look like a psychotic liar just because she went back on her word. It's all handled now, but I will never trust her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh's ex girlfriend is in town which is awesome to deal with. He keeps calling her his "friend" which I'm not doubting but she still is his ex girl"friend." And plus when he got back from New York after Christmas all he could talk about was how much he hated seeing her. After that I knew there was still pent up feelings, which sucks. I felt like he lied to me on Friday night involving something with her yet he still thinks he did nothing wrong. I'm not trying to be&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; that&lt;/span&gt; girlfriend, but I can't help feeling like there is something I should be afraid of. I know having her here puts him in a weird place but I'm sure it's even weirder for her. I want to be nice can't you tell? But I can't, because we're girls, and even though we don't know each other we hate each other just because Josh is in the middle. I'm protective, and if I wasn't, it would be like sitting on the freeway with my chest cut open waiting for my heart to be run over by on-coming traffic. Plus her and I are completely different people, so I'm told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me what you must, but I'm not into letting my boyfriend get snatched away by some east coast nature girl who hurt him once already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(reppin' the west coast till i die!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2498901120554789990?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2498901120554789990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2498901120554789990&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2498901120554789990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2498901120554789990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/loss-of-trust.html' title='The Loss of Trust'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-251094474624075937</id><published>2009-08-08T14:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T14:37:56.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Remaining Days</title><content type='html'>There is just about two weeks left until the great American road trip goes down. Its starting to really hit me that I&amp;#39;m leaving the last part of my family. I left my immediate family, and now I&amp;#39;m leaving the very last bits of what I have left. I hate leaving my grandma just as she&amp;#39;s starting to lose her hair, I can see all the stress on her face now.&lt;p&gt;In lighter news, yesterday was my last day in the kitchen at Oregon Culinary Institute. I&amp;#39;m really going to miss all the chefs and my classmates. I could go on for days about how much I love that school. I&amp;#39;m really excited to get out there and put my skillz to work, for money.&lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-251094474624075937?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/251094474624075937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=251094474624075937&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/251094474624075937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/251094474624075937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/remaining-days.html' title='The Remaining Days'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4050193737812708735</id><published>2009-08-03T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T00:54:42.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cutest Kitty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SnaXwqwtOhI/AAAAAAAAAsI/nc79yvXFuK0/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2ODcuanBn%3F%3D-782217"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SnaXwqwtOhI/AAAAAAAAAsI/nc79yvXFuK0/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2ODcuanBn%3F%3D-782217"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365642868426619410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4050193737812708735?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4050193737812708735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4050193737812708735&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4050193737812708735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4050193737812708735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/cutest-kitty.html' title='The Cutest Kitty'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SnaXwqwtOhI/AAAAAAAAAsI/nc79yvXFuK0/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2ODcuanBn%3F%3D-782217' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1525964498351515682</id><published>2009-08-02T00:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T01:05:01.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Few Weeks</title><content type='html'>Only a few weeks left to pack until the giant road trip/move. We haven't started, we're lazy. We are making quite a few stops along the way, but if we're driving THAT far, i better see some cool shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to camp most of the way there except for in Madison, Wisconsin where Josh's friend lives. Here's a list of places we'll be stopping at;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Maryhill, Washington. There is a giant replica of Stonehenge here, the northwest is so weird.&lt;br /&gt;2.Butte, Montana. we will camp and eat here.&lt;br /&gt;3.Yellowstone, Wyoming. We will camp here! I hear there are some wicked hot springs here too.&lt;br /&gt;4.Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota.&lt;br /&gt;5.Wall, South Dakota. &lt;a href="http://www.walldrug.com/"&gt;Wall Drug.&lt;/a&gt; I heard this place is fucking silly.&lt;br /&gt;6. Murdo, South Dakota. &lt;a href="http://www.1880town.com/"&gt;1880 Town&lt;/a&gt;, fuck yeah.&lt;br /&gt;7.Madison, Wisconsin. We'll stay here for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;8. Chicago, IL. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo1LPf9mnyU"&gt;Wiener Circle!&lt;/a&gt; &lt;- - - completely worth watching&lt;br /&gt;9.Cleveland, OH. Rock N' Roll Hall of Fame&lt;br /&gt;10.Pittsburg, PA.&lt;br /&gt;11.Hershey, PA. FUCK YEAH&lt;br /&gt;12. Philly, PA.&lt;br /&gt;13. New York!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited for this trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other sad news, a man was beaten to death by a bunch of kids on a full MAX train last night. Only in Portland would a man be brutally beat to death while a train full of selfish, careless assholes sat there and watched. You're cool for what you've got Portland, but your people suck. I can't wait to leave this fucking town.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1525964498351515682?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1525964498351515682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1525964498351515682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1525964498351515682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1525964498351515682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/08/few-weeks.html' title='The Few Weeks'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-4249780403150573209</id><published>2009-07-18T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T12:28:30.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bad Dream</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been having a lot of bad dreams. i woke up one morning last week crying because I dreamed of hanging out with my brother and sister and then losing them in a mall. It really made me miss them. The only time I get to hang out with them now is in my dreams, so when they're over I get really sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning I had a dream that my Chef was screaming at me for ditching school on Tuesday. It was pretty scary because that dude can yell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I had a dream about an old friend's shitty snaggle-toothed girlfriend ganging up on me with his even shittier ex-girlfriend, it wasn't too bad though because I got to tell them off in the dream too. People suck, even in dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though this is almost completely unrelated to my bad dreams, it correlates with bad friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more and more I don't talk to you the more I realize what a shitty person you are, and how you hurt me in more ways than i can count, and also that it's not okay. I don't call you anymore because I can't talk to you without thinking of all the shitty things you've done to me and other people. Its sad to think that I thought you were the only one on earth who would ever be able to trust, and it turned out the exact opposite. You don't agree with the way I live my life, or moving to New York, and I'm okay with that. And don't call me when she starts fucking any of your other friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said before, I'm leaving all this shit behind me on the west coast, including our friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-4249780403150573209?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/4249780403150573209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=4249780403150573209&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4249780403150573209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/4249780403150573209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/07/bad-dream.html' title='The Bad Dream'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6190989707833267468</id><published>2009-07-13T00:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T00:40:28.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tilly Cover</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DrLNG2Q6wrg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DrLNG2Q6wrg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6190989707833267468?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6190989707833267468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6190989707833267468&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6190989707833267468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6190989707833267468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/07/tilly-cover.html' title='The Tilly Cover'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8101745300061317994</id><published>2009-07-11T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T00:11:10.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Return to Normalcy</title><content type='html'>I've been back from California for about a week now. Josh has been on tour with his band since Monday and won't be back until this coming Monday. The house has been so lonely without him. Nyx and I just hang out all night after school and watch the Food Network. She has become a very cool cat, she just kind of hangs out all the time. She learned from the best!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I think the trip to San Francisco was a huge "closure" between me and California, now I have to say goodbye to Portland. I told my grandma today that we were moving and she looked really sad. This was after she told me she'd be starting chemotherapy in two weeks and will be undergoing treatment for 4 months. I hate leaving her in the middle of all this complete shit (there are no other set of words I can use to describe this current situation, I'm trying to clean up my mouth). Being in the kitchen has definately worsened my sailor mouth. Even my Chef today told us to "pay attention and don't fuck it up." All jokes aside, he rarely curses. He sings the theme to Alladin more than he curses. The food service industry is a strange, and some times very drunk/high, world. I'm excited to get a new job doing what I love, but I'm not looking forward to the hunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to a weekend of work, and cleaning for when Josh gets home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8101745300061317994?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8101745300061317994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8101745300061317994&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8101745300061317994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8101745300061317994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/07/return-to-normalcy.html' title='The Return to Normalcy'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-5329016187915574036</id><published>2009-06-30T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T02:14:25.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End of the East Coast and I</title><content type='html'>I made the trip to my Uncle Shaun and Aunt Jessica's wedding this past weekend, all the way from Portland to Tahoe alone! It was a long and tiring trip, especially with no AC in my ill equipped car. It got into the 100's for a few hours and I felt like I was on the brink of death until I poured 3 gallons of water over my head. Besides the terrible heat, I got to see my family and some other family I haven't seen since I was in diapers. I made the trek back to Pacifica earlier today and upon entering the city limits I dropped my iPod into a cup of water. It will be a very long ride home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being back in California makes me want to be back in Portland, where it's never too hot and I can get a wholesome meal for under 5 dollars on every corner that I'm not afraid to eat. I used to love this busy life, but as I've grown over the past year I am yearning for a life more simple and less plastic. I've spent my entire life on this coast, and I think it's definitely time for me to step out of this box. I mean, just a few years ago I was burning boxed German chocolate cupcakes in my oven, and now I'm almost finished with culinary school. The next step is to &lt;i&gt;completely&lt;/i&gt; remove myself from anything comfortable, and the only way I can do this is by packing up, sucking back tears, and moving to the east coast. I've dreamed of it for years and now I have an opportunity. I have been warned that it lacks glamour and grace, but I'm okay with that. If you know me well enough you know that "grace" would not be within the top 1,000 in the list of adjectives describing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gone on long enough about my eagerness to reinvent my life, so for everyone who ever doubted me, for every bad grade, for everytime I embarrassed myself, for every year that I have spent feeling insecure, and for every time I doubted myself, this is me telling you to suck it. I'm leaving it all behind in the Pacific Ocean where it belongs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-5329016187915574036?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/5329016187915574036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=5329016187915574036&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5329016187915574036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/5329016187915574036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/06/end-of-east-coast-and-i.html' title='The End of the East Coast and I'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6901312372827911257</id><published>2009-06-14T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:10:23.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Official Move</title><content type='html'>I am moving to New York on August 24th. Due to circumstances beyond my control Josh and I are being forced to leave a little earlier than planned. As much as I am excited to see new things I am sad to leave Portland. I won&amp;#39;t miss all the hipsters and passive aggresive behavior, though. I am ready to finish school and start my career. The best thing about working in kitchens is that it&amp;#39;s fun and you get to do what you love while building a career. I feel like I will be constantly learning for the rest of my life if I choose to do so. There are always new recipes to try and new things for you to invent.&lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;m confident that things will work out for us, no matter how shitty things are right now. I&amp;#39;m surprised to hear myself say it but its true &lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6901312372827911257?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6901312372827911257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6901312372827911257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6901312372827911257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6901312372827911257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/06/official-move.html' title='The Official Move'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2228199096150309112</id><published>2009-05-31T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T13:36:38.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Messy Room</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SiLqVgndc_I/AAAAAAAAAsA/myOqsqey5Bg/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxNzQuanBn%3F%3D-798795"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SiLqVgndc_I/AAAAAAAAAsA/myOqsqey5Bg/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxNzQuanBn%3F%3D-798795"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342089763268424690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Its impossible to keep our room clean.&lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2228199096150309112?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2228199096150309112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2228199096150309112&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2228199096150309112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2228199096150309112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/messy-room.html' title='The Messy Room'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SiLqVgndc_I/AAAAAAAAAsA/myOqsqey5Bg/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxNzQuanBn%3F%3D-798795' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2051515636403340308</id><published>2009-05-23T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T21:31:04.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sweat Leaf</title><content type='html'>Most of the time I am completely ashamed of a certain part of me. Not physically, but mentally. The only thing on earth that keeps me from having panic attacks and lets me sleep at night, is not at all accepted by society. I have no health insurance, and I don't want to fill my body full of pills that control my brain, so self-medicating is the only thing I've got. I wish everyone else could see and understand that this is something that cures me of my daily bouts of depression and restless stress that is not a federally regulated chemically enhanced super-drug. People spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on medication and therapy for something I can cure myself, if people just opened their own minds instead of letting others tell them what is wrong and what is right, maybe they would save a little heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I first met you, didn't realize&lt;br /&gt;I cant forget you, for your surprise,&lt;br /&gt;You introduced me, to my mind&lt;br /&gt;And left me wanting, you and your kind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, &lt;a id="KonaLink0" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/black+sabbath/sweet+leaf_20019391.html#"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:15;color:#b00000;"   &gt;&lt;span class="kLink" style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:15;color:#b00000;"   &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; oh you know it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life was empty forever on a down&lt;br /&gt;Until you took me, showed me around&lt;br /&gt;My life is free now, my life is clear&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;a id="KonaLink1" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/black+sabbath/sweet+leaf_20019391.html#"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:15;color:#b00000;"   &gt;&lt;span class="kLink" style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:15;color:#b00000;"   &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; leaf, though you cant hear"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Black Sabbath &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sweet Leaf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2051515636403340308?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2051515636403340308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2051515636403340308&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2051515636403340308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2051515636403340308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/sweat-leaf.html' title='The Sweat Leaf'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2833707587326429219</id><published>2009-05-16T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T21:30:01.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Future</title><content type='html'>My uncle is getting married to his girlfriend of 8 years at the end of June. They have two kids and I think they really love each other. My uncle is the only person ive seen grow from child to adult, so its really weird for me to see him as a married man with children and a house when just a few years ago (or so it feels) he was kicking me out of his room and getting busted by my grandma for a mass amount of CO2 cartridges in his drawer.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Speaking of my grandma, a month or so ago she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had surgery last week. She is always depressed now, especially since we found out that the cancer has spread and she will still need chemotherapy.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I also watched Synecdoche, New York last night which has me in a weird mood about dying and the future. I have no clue where I will be 5 years from now, or even 6 months from now. I am almost afraid to live because I am so afraid of dying.  My mom always tells me to think positively and enjoy my moments now, but how can I be positive about the end?&lt;br&gt;Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2833707587326429219?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2833707587326429219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2833707587326429219&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2833707587326429219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2833707587326429219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/future.html' title='The Future'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1162620771321606599</id><published>2009-05-15T23:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:07:16.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Overworked</title><content type='html'>I've been extremely weird lately. I've felt and acted extremely unlike me for the past week and I don't know when I'll start to be myself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'm making the right decision with school, am I cut out for this? It's so competitive and I'm so shy. Should I move to New York or should I stay in Portland? Are Josh and I going to be able to stand each other for much longer? Is my Grandma going to be alive for my Uncle's wedding?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask myself these stupid fucking questions all day long and I can't concentrate on anything else. I wish I could rewind to when my mom and I were still getting along so I could kill myself and never have felt all the shit that came afterwards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1162620771321606599?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1162620771321606599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1162620771321606599&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1162620771321606599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1162620771321606599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/overworked.html' title='The Overworked'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-707801507395627008</id><published>2009-05-10T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:35:33.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Live-In Boyfriend</title><content type='html'>Now that Josh and I officially live together, the way I saw things hopefully panning out is not the way things are working out. We are both so busy all the time that the only part of the day we get to spend together is when we're both exhausted and in desperate need of sleep. I feel like we're just living around each other. The Josh I knew a few weeks ago is not the Josh I know now, and I feel like I am different too. The things I swore I'd never do for a spouse, I'm doing, and I don't hate it. It's freaking me out. I'm folding &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our &lt;/span&gt;laundry and making &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our &lt;/span&gt;bed and cleaning &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our &lt;/span&gt;room. Some girls dream about this kind of shit, and I'm questioning it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-707801507395627008?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/707801507395627008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=707801507395627008&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/707801507395627008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/707801507395627008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/live-in-boyfriend.html' title='The Live-In Boyfriend'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-6737341312026016778</id><published>2009-05-02T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:50:25.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Time</title><content type='html'>or the lack thereof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I started school have absolutely no time to do anything besides school, work, sleep, and eat...maybe. In the last three weeks a lot of shit has gone down. Josh moved in officially on the 28th and it's been great so far. Having him around all the time makes life much less stressful. He's currently working three jobs, so he's never home except on mondays and tuesdays. He's quiting both of the part-time ones so he'll have more days off though. I'm not really home too often myself. I am at school 32 hours during the week and on the weekends I'm working. We have surprisingly found time for each other though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am battling the stomach flu virus. It's not too bad, I got to take tomorrow off of work and I'm pretty sure I lost a few pounds. Hallelujah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-6737341312026016778?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/6737341312026016778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=6737341312026016778&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6737341312026016778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/6737341312026016778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/05/time.html' title='The Time'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1500509780626648252</id><published>2009-04-17T00:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T00:36:56.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chocolate Filigree</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SegxmM9id6I/AAAAAAAAAr4/kt2iWTxfm8A/s1600-h/IMG00241-716174.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SegxmM9id6I/AAAAAAAAAr4/kt2iWTxfm8A/s320/IMG00241-716174.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325561091749738402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Look at how poorly I am doing making beautiful pictures out of cornettes &lt;br&gt;with chocolate filigree! Seriously, if those fucking cornettes were &lt;br&gt;easier to fold maybe my hands wouldn&amp;#39;t be exhausted by the time I got to &lt;br&gt;the fun part.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1500509780626648252?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1500509780626648252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1500509780626648252&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1500509780626648252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1500509780626648252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/04/chocolate-filigree.html' title='The Chocolate Filigree'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SegxmM9id6I/AAAAAAAAAr4/kt2iWTxfm8A/s72-c/IMG00241-716174.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-3121527687970811401</id><published>2009-04-16T00:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T00:26:15.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New School</title><content type='html'>Today was my 4th day in baking and pastry school. We learned how to use &lt;br&gt;the ice cream machine and we made cinnamon ice cream! It was delicious. &lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;ve been learning a lot, expecially things I would&amp;#39;ve never figured out &lt;br&gt;on my own. There is a lot of information to remember but I memorized how &lt;br&gt;to make every drink from working at Starbucks so far so I think my &lt;br&gt;memory bank can take a beating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-3121527687970811401?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/3121527687970811401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=3121527687970811401&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3121527687970811401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/3121527687970811401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/04/new-school.html' title='The New School'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2751412120951798126</id><published>2009-04-11T02:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T02:19:32.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Day of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SeBgpKFvAGI/AAAAAAAAArw/JnjaeI70XSA/s1600-h/IMG00240-772475.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SeBgpKFvAGI/AAAAAAAAArw/JnjaeI70XSA/s320/IMG00240-772475.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323361019751235682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Today it feels as though I am back in kindergarten. I&amp;#39;m learning the &lt;br&gt;basics of baking, which is math. I am struggling, but I&amp;#39;m doing it. &lt;br&gt;Currently I&amp;#39;m at another lonely night of biscuit baking. Sometimes Josh &lt;br&gt;has to make things other than biscuits like pies or cornbread kits, and &lt;br&gt;waffle mix, which I am now incharge of. It&amp;#39;s pretty easy. 24 eggs, 6 &lt;br&gt;tbsp of yeast, 4 tbsp of vanilla, some amount of flour, 1 gal and 5 cups &lt;br&gt;of milk, and a ridiculous amount of melted butter.&lt;p&gt;Work tomorrow and sunday. UGH&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2751412120951798126?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2751412120951798126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2751412120951798126&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2751412120951798126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2751412120951798126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-day-of-school.html' title='The First Day of School'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/SeBgpKFvAGI/AAAAAAAAArw/JnjaeI70XSA/s72-c/IMG00240-772475.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8278128068564898295</id><published>2009-04-09T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T18:41:21.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chef Coat</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sd6jwaGvKxI/AAAAAAAAAro/2Pf9omrr--U/s1600-h/IMG00239-781786.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sd6jwaGvKxI/AAAAAAAAAro/2Pf9omrr--U/s320/IMG00239-781786.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322871861635132178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;First day of school tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8278128068564898295?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8278128068564898295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8278128068564898295&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8278128068564898295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8278128068564898295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/04/chef-coat.html' title='The Chef Coat'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sd6jwaGvKxI/AAAAAAAAAro/2Pf9omrr--U/s72-c/IMG00239-781786.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-2050435506690379651</id><published>2009-03-27T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T23:15:17.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Suit</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sc3AdYybusI/AAAAAAAAArg/FxYS82xYei0/s1600-h/IMG00230-717049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sc3AdYybusI/AAAAAAAAArg/FxYS82xYei0/s320/IMG00230-717049.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318118346097146562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Ain&amp;#39;t it cute!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-2050435506690379651?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/2050435506690379651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=2050435506690379651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2050435506690379651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/2050435506690379651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/03/suit.html' title='The Suit'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Sc3AdYybusI/AAAAAAAAArg/FxYS82xYei0/s72-c/IMG00230-717049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8114897439105846500</id><published>2009-03-25T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T19:52:07.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tattoo pt. 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Scrt19n7VGI/AAAAAAAAArY/q9WPPuLPUR0/s1600-h/IMG00232-727721.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Scrt19n7VGI/AAAAAAAAArY/q9WPPuLPUR0/s320/IMG00232-727721.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317323821395170402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Scott Harrison at Atlas Tattoo kicks so much ass it&amp;#39;s ridiculous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8114897439105846500?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8114897439105846500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8114897439105846500&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8114897439105846500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8114897439105846500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/03/tattoo-pt-5.html' title='The Tattoo pt. 5'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/Scrt19n7VGI/AAAAAAAAArY/q9WPPuLPUR0/s72-c/IMG00232-727721.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1272134822354604864</id><published>2009-03-22T01:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T01:58:53.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Eating Habits</title><content type='html'>I have to drink peppermint tea at 2am because I am feeling so nauseous. &lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;ve been eating so poorly ever since we got back from California. I &lt;br&gt;haven&amp;#39;t been eating fast food either, at all! Josh just makes food that &lt;br&gt;is fucking delicious that also happens to be horrible for me. I always &lt;br&gt;feel sick to my stomach, sometimes really light-headed, and it&amp;#39;s getting &lt;br&gt;really annoying.&lt;p&gt;Blerg, I hate and love food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1272134822354604864?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1272134822354604864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1272134822354604864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1272134822354604864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1272134822354604864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/03/eating-habits.html' title='The Eating Habits'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-8750038924432537916</id><published>2009-03-19T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T21:44:42.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Insider</title><content type='html'>I've been reading "Get In the Van" by Henry Rollins about his tours/life with Black Flag. I've also read "Smile, You're Traveling" by Mr. Rollins. Just by chance, Josh and I decided to watch "The New Guy" on netflix last night and Henry was in the movie as the prison warden! I was so weird to see him in a movie because I feel like I know him on a personal level after having a glimpse into his mind with all those journals he's published. I really look up to him as a writer and as a person, he's extremely courageous and intelligent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting a black flag tattoo on the 25th. I feel like the bars have just been a trendy tattoo to have at shows these days, but I legitimately love them. The lyrics, Ginn's guitar sound, Keith Morris, Henry Rollins. So many great things have come out of that band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been really frustrated with people telling me what to do and judging me lately. Whether it's my mom, or Josh, or Jake, or my Grandparents. I'm getting really exhausted. You all say you love me, so why won't you just let me be happy and stubborn?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-8750038924432537916?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/8750038924432537916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=8750038924432537916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8750038924432537916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/8750038924432537916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/03/insider.html' title='The Insider'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2568142225972054217.post-1854969931396441813</id><published>2009-03-17T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T19:19:02.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dearest Joshua</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/ScBaFqaKq5I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Y9ilg022eKI/s1600-h/IMG00224-742413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/ScBaFqaKq5I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Y9ilg022eKI/s320/IMG00224-742413.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314346613627071378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;when I feel like I&amp;#39;ve got nothing else, I&amp;#39;ve got you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2568142225972054217-1854969931396441813?l=anewsonnet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/feeds/1854969931396441813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2568142225972054217&amp;postID=1854969931396441813&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1854969931396441813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2568142225972054217/posts/default/1854969931396441813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewsonnet.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-dearest-joshua.html' title='My Dearest Joshua'/><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10952945423798350391</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_9NEnzy9YY/Ton1nVZKQfI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DqMRnHNZcz4/s220/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8DoSigzzQIY/ScBaFqaKq5I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Y9ilg022eKI/s72-c/IMG00224-742413.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
