<?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-4225896919634871901</id><updated>2012-01-30T12:08:13.038-06:00</updated><category term='questioning'/><category term='Truth'/><category term='lost'/><category term='Kreativ'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='do over'/><category term='Fear'/><category term='Stalker'/><category term='life'/><category term='Job'/><category term='Sara Bareilles'/><category term='creepy'/><category term='Tyalor Swift'/><category term='personality'/><category term='Want'/><category term='officer'/><category term='facts'/><category term='history'/><category term='pain'/><category term='about me'/><category term='face the facts'/><category term='Mask'/><category term='Letting go'/><category term='jail'/><category term='adult life'/><category term='fun'/><category term='Need'/><category term='love'/><category term='highschool'/><category term='7 Things'/><category term='work'/><category term='past'/><category term='MadMen'/><category term='heartache'/><title type='text'>Whatever It Takes</title><subtitle type='html'>…there is a beautiful view of the end of the world from the pier…</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-898034942780729741</id><published>2010-07-26T17:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T17:22:39.368-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If you miss me you can find me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://26facethefear.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://26facethefear.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to start over, I hated this blog and where it was going but I feel like I need a creative outlet in my life. Please come find me...I miss you too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-898034942780729741?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/898034942780729741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/07/if-you-miss-me-you-can-find-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/898034942780729741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/898034942780729741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/07/if-you-miss-me-you-can-find-me.html' title='If you miss me you can find me....'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-8833536349913584322</id><published>2010-04-11T22:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T22:51:10.589-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adult life'/><title type='text'>Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>In just a few short hours, it will be the first Monday of my first week of unemployment. I went from one side of a statistic to another in an instant. I knew it was coming, I was not surprised but I, like many americans and maybe even readers, was hoping to have something else lined up before the inevitable loss of income arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to face some tough choices...&lt;br /&gt;Do I sublease my apartment and move in with Offer's Mother?&lt;br /&gt;Do I wait it out? Do I look in other cities?&lt;br /&gt;Do I move home, with my parents and their zoo of a house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these questions running through my head at this moment and I don't have an answer to a single one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess that is why tomorrow is day one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-8833536349913584322?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/8833536349913584322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/04/tomorrow.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8833536349913584322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8833536349913584322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/04/tomorrow.html' title='Tomorrow'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-3433443439021101590</id><published>2010-03-24T22:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T22:41:19.628-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MVP no more</title><content type='html'>I continually find myself asking, how can life get any worse? And I really need to stop. Every time I ask myself that question another life altering event takes place. Seriously, I know they may not be life altering but right now they feel that way. I am not doing very well with the whole lets "focus on being grateful and positive" thing. Maybe after this post I will do better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway today was pretty rocky. I try not to talk about work on here, ok lets be serious Witty, &amp;nbsp;you don't talk about much of anything. Maybe I should.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway I work at this place, and remember the cash flow issues a month or so ago?? Well today MVP was let go...MVP kept me sane. And well today was her last day. Just like that G.O.N.E &amp;nbsp;I know she is not out of my life forever and I really think she can me a mentor to me for the rest of my life but it is really discouraging. And the job search, not going so well. I am looking pretty much all over the country....think happy thoughts....why are there no advertising agencies in the Virgin Islands? I am sure reps would love to come visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lets recap, my boyfriend of 4 years cheated on me repeatedly but kept saying he would change and like a crazy person I believed him. We broke up in November, didn't talk until after New Years. We spent too much time together in Feb, his grandmother dies, I try to be there for him with no avail (what I didn't mention this before...oh oops) so I decide what the hell. Keeping him in my life is more stress than it is worth right now. What exactly was I getting out of the situation, oh thats right..quiet you....anyway so I just stopped talking to him. Maybe that is not the most mature thing but I don't care. 'Cause at this point I am not sure I have anything else to say to him. And guess what, it has been two weeks and I have not heard from him either. What does that say?? I think it says I have been feeling less stressed because Officer is out of my life again and I should be happy. But it is still hard to be happy when you realize he has not tried to contact me either. I guess maybe he has moved on, or he became a hermit. Either way he won't be happy. Yes I can say that as a fact. Thanks for checking though, I know you are just looking out for me.&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/4225896919634871901-3433443439021101590?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/3433443439021101590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/03/mvp-no-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3433443439021101590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3433443439021101590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/03/mvp-no-more.html' title='MVP no more'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-281901920780388641</id><published>2010-03-01T21:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T21:06:41.183-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='officer'/><title type='text'>March Madness or the March of Change</title><content type='html'>I cannot believe that today is the first day of March. I am not sure where January and February went but they are gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been partaking in some pretty risky behavior for the past month and I am worried it is going to bite me in the butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first weekend in February Officer asked me out to lunch on Sunday and we ended up spending the whole day and night together. It was nice but weird and I just felt strange. The sex was great as usual but it left me wondering what the fuck were we doing. I don't want to be his fuck buddy. I am not even sure I am ready to be friends. But it was just so nice, it felt safe and comfortable. There was no baggage between us, just two people spending time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We repeated this event the next weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was out of town for the next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we repeated it yesterday. And it hits me. Why am I not hating this mans guts? Why do I even let him near me? Why am i so incapable of being angry with him? Lord know he has done enough to hurt me. I mean the song bad romance was written about us. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I put it out there, I told him, I don't trust him and I have reached my trust limit. And he says maybe we should slow down and in my head I am going. I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to give you advice on dating other woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am not sure I want to give you a second chance. SO WHY am I spending time with him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck are we doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now tonight he is calling to ask me for favors, like we are friends or dating again. But what perks am I getting from dating him again? None so far that I can tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-281901920780388641?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/281901920780388641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness-or-march-of-change.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/281901920780388641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/281901920780388641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness-or-march-of-change.html' title='March Madness or the March of Change'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-3269649727440930249</id><published>2010-02-27T23:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T23:50:21.649-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='do over'/><title type='text'>I realize I don't post often</title><content type='html'>I realize I don't post often, that has probably cost me what little readers I had. But I will be honest, blogging just was not a big part of my life. I really started a blog more to have something to direct people to if I left them comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was not the original reason I started this, I started this to get over a boy, a man really, a man who I thought was &lt;i&gt;the&lt;/i&gt; man. But it was more than that, it was about getting my life back. Really making it my life, taking control, being true to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been caught up in life and again not really taking care of myself. Sure, I make sure my basic needs are met, food, water, sleep, sex well maybe not so much in the sex department. But am I exercising like I should? Am I doing things to enrich my mind and to awaken my soul? Doesn't feel like it. It feels like I have fallen back into old patterns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become complacent with my life again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I accept what every day brings without trying to shape or mold it into things that I want for myself. Not in a sick way of thinking that I can control everything that happens to me, or anyone around me. More in a way of actually having goals and wanting things for myself and for no other reason other than that I want them, and they will make me a better person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-3269649727440930249?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/3269649727440930249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-realize-i-dont-post-often.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3269649727440930249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3269649727440930249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-realize-i-dont-post-often.html' title='I realize I don&apos;t post often'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-7427684430571564164</id><published>2010-02-11T18:51:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T19:31:08.206-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adult life'/><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It is hard to be clever about this situation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There has been a lot of drama in the world of employment this past week for me. Without getting into specifics my place of employment took a big hit in cash flow. Turmoil has ensued and half the agency was let go, including my partner in crime Loride. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the good vibes paid off, I didn't lose my job. I feel like I should take it as a complement, my work speaks for it self, but slight survivor guilt is a bitch. Actually, I was the only non director/VP to keep their job but my work load has quadrupled. And if we cannot drum up some new cash in the next 90 days I could still be let go, the whole company could go under. Being an adult blows sometimes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not sure if this is the short straw or the long straw? Either way I am thankful I have a job still, but it has really made me think about things. Do I really still want this job? Am I going to be happy in this job in 6 months? Am I still growing at this company? Then there is the big one...&lt;i&gt;what in the heck would I want to do if I was not doing this??&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know some of the answers...  Yes, I still want this job, at least until I have the chance to find something better. I don't know if I am going to be happy at this job in 6 months anymore, I thought I was going to be when the direction of the company was clear. Truth be told, I have been bored, I felt stagnate and I was having trouble figuring out how to dig myself out of the rut I was in then. Everything has changed now, I am hoping that this new circumstance will bring all sorts of new experience that will make my resume nice and shinny for the future. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day four was rough, but I am trying to be positive. That is my goal this year, to try to turn everything I can into a positive, to see the good in life and to make the most of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I am trying to make myself into an optimist (here's hoping). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&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/4225896919634871901-7427684430571564164?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/7427684430571564164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/changes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7427684430571564164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7427684430571564164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Witty</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10967549011872099822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-6314091223335270778</id><published>2010-02-02T20:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T20:39:36.856-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost'/><title type='text'>Good Vibes</title><content type='html'>If I asked you to send me good vibes without telling you what they are for, would you?&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not ready to talk about everything that has been going on but I really really need some good vibes right now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please hope and pray that everything works out for the best.&amp;nbsp;&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/4225896919634871901-6314091223335270778?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/6314091223335270778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-vibes.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6314091223335270778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6314091223335270778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-vibes.html' title='Good Vibes'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2090728741045950177</id><published>2010-01-20T21:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T21:11:02.447-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Harder.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;&lt;img alt="loveharder.org.jpg" src="webkit-fake-url://B4F910FC-C9CB-4F0E-8F48-697CAA97C2CE/loveharder.org.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;please check &lt;a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/2010/01/for-brandy.html"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; out.&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/4225896919634871901-2090728741045950177?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2090728741045950177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/love-harder.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2090728741045950177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2090728741045950177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/love-harder.html' title='Love Harder.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-6379186964944645466</id><published>2010-01-18T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T22:51:26.589-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Apparently my post about 2009 really pissed off 2010.</title><content type='html'>So far this year....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a great encounter with Officer that I thought changed things but just turned into a muddy emotional mess so we decided not to talk again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a life threatening kidney infection that would have never been found if I didn't go to the emergency room for a kidney stone. Seriously...how is it possible that my body showed no outward signs of this infection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of this infection I have had to miss work a lot of work which I hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of this infection I broke down and called Officer again, he came and sat with me all night in the hospital. I thought it meant more than it did so I feel like we are breaking up all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(as a side note while I was high off my ass on pain killers and he was sitting there with me, I had a moment of undefinable clarity...he is not the man for me. How can I have been that clear, I knew it in my heart of heart and now sober again I cannot seem to get back to that place? I just cannot seem to get my heart in line with my head.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of this infection I have not been able to get clear perspective on thing and have become overly emotional. Seriously I cry about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really feel like my world was crashing down but I got an email from a friend telling me that it was...funny. I mean yes I have not have the best few months, hell lets be honest I have not had the best 2 years. Yeah some things are good but why in life does it always seem that we cannot have everything working out at once? When have I paid enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you this, I will certainly be able to appreciate the good so much more once I get it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-6379186964944645466?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/6379186964944645466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/apparently-my-post-about-2009-really.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6379186964944645466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6379186964944645466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/apparently-my-post-about-2009-really.html' title='Apparently my post about 2009 really pissed off 2010.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2136558826079545295</id><published>2010-01-02T23:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T23:27:35.782-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2009</title><content type='html'>Dear 2009,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can go fuck yourself. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned a lot about myself in 2009 but none of it was easy to learn and most of it was me just being pathetic and not respecting myself. &amp;nbsp;Much of the early part of the year until spring is a blur of self doubt and pain. Pain I could have easily walked away from but I didn't know how to put myself first. Spring and part of summer I lived in denial, I pretended things that were happening weren't or that they didn't matter. But they did and it cost me even more than the earlier months of the year. Then July happened. I turned 25 and hit a personal low with Officer. Still I stayed. Still I tried. Still I sacrificed...thinking it was enough that he would change and see the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fall was a blur of mistakes and mistrust. Of drowning in my own denial and misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November, the end. It was over, Officer said he didn't love me anymore, and that he hadn't for a long time. I know what really happened, he fell for someone else and it had been going on and off for a better part of the year. And it had been killing me, I had been killing me. I had been the one giving everything up where he just believed we could go on being friends. I was addicted to the pain, I was addicted to him. Like all good addictions, you must go stone cold sober to actually let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Without Trust there is NO love. I know it is drilled into our heads but believe you me. There is no truer statement on earth. And I cannot believe how long it took me to believe it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no point in retelling any more of the story of 2009. It knows what happened and it knows what I have now left behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will say it again, 2009, &lt;i&gt;you can go fuck yourself and never come back&lt;/i&gt;. I am glad you are over and I am glad I never have to see you again. I am hoping I never allow myself to become that low again. I am stronger because of you but pieces of me are still so broken that I know I am no where near putting myself back together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Witty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goals for 2010 are simple:&lt;br /&gt;1. To put myself first and never let my self respect take a back seat&lt;br /&gt;2. To move on from Officer, even if I do hope he misses me terribly and suffers badly for years.&lt;br /&gt;3. Get back in shape, good shape.&lt;br /&gt;4. To figure out what I want out of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-2136558826079545295?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2136558826079545295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2136558826079545295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2136558826079545295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2010/01/2009.html' title='2009'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-578432564572156704</id><published>2009-12-02T21:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T21:44:52.906-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Liar.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Dear Officer, &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;You lied and said you were an innocent man but you're not. and you have not been for a long time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Love,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Witty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-578432564572156704?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/578432564572156704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/12/liar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/578432564572156704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/578432564572156704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/12/liar.html' title='Liar.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-1437413429827985953</id><published>2009-11-19T14:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T14:50:56.157-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Let Go.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ does not mean to stop caring. It means I can’t do it for someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to cut myself off, it is the realization I can’t control another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to change or blame another, it’s to make the most of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to care for, but to care about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to fix, but to be supportive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their destinies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to be protective, it’s to permit another to face reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to deny, but to accept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to nag, scold or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to criticize and regulate anybody, but to try to become what I dream I can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;To ‘let go’ is to fear less, and love more.&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/4225896919634871901-1437413429827985953?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/1437413429827985953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/11/let-go.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1437413429827985953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1437413429827985953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/11/let-go.html' title='Let Go.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-148893724625742479</id><published>2009-11-12T16:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T16:07:29.445-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If I had a computer I would post more</title><content type='html'>So as you can tell, July 1st is the last time my personal computer has worked. So much has happened since then and I feel like I have really lost touch with the blogesphere. I will try to do better. Besides I am changing my life for the better. I am going to live in the now and not in the past for the future. Just for right now. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have learned that for the last few years I have not been respecting myself (at all, seriously). I have been putting the needs of others so far above my own that I cannot even identify what my needs are.  And guess what, if you don't know what your needs are, how are you ever going to know what your true feelings are. The next few months are about finding clarity, about finding myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i really put my life out there, maybe it will force me to learn who I am again? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here goes nothing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-148893724625742479?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/148893724625742479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-i-had-computer-i-would-post-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/148893724625742479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/148893724625742479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-i-had-computer-i-would-post-more.html' title='If I had a computer I would post more'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2022307610766348872</id><published>2009-07-01T20:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T20:41:46.073-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letting go'/><title type='text'>Twenty One</title><content type='html'>Dear 21 doctors I have seen in the last 4 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did it take number 22 to figure out what is wrong with me? Why is my syndrome found with a simple blood test that none of you bothered to perform? Did you know that the longer this syndrome goes untreated, the more damage it can do to the body? The more catastrophic affects it can have on my future??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four fucking years of my life I had to live with people telling me…diet and exercise, there is nothing wrong with you. How many different 24 hour urine tests did I do? How many times did you take my blood, perform extremely painful tests and come back and tell me everything was normal?  How many different times did I tell my story, how many times did I get the look? You know the look that you gave me, the look do the work to make yourself feel better I cannot find anything wrong with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are lazy; you always looked at the one easy answer and didn’t bother to actually listen to what I am saying. I know my body and I knew something was wrong. After four years you not only put me through hell but you made me doubt myself, doubt what I knew with all of my heart to be true. I hate to admit it but I had given up, I had lost all hope that anything was ever going to happen to shine some light on what was happening to me. And it made me hate myself. So now we have not believing in myself, hating myself and add to that not being able to stand to see myself in the mirror and you have a pretty fucked up individual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of this I am angry, so angry but I don’t know how to be angry.  I want to scream out loud, I want to tear things apart, I want to make my pulse race. Sometimes I feel as if I am standing still but my body is violently shaking as I scream so loud all the glass around me shatters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t even cry about it, I don’t even know how to process what has happened in the last week. With one test and one letter, it feels like my whole life should have changed. I should be able to breath but I am wound so tight I cannot. I cannot even get close to feeling what I should be feeling now that I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four years of my life gone, that I can never get back, I feel like you stole them from me. You robbed me of things I could have had, you robbed me of my self-confidence, my ability to let things roll off of my shoulders. You make me feel weak and pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know how to get angry, but I wish I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So 21 doctors...go fuck yourselves, you make a mockery of your profession. Cases like mine should be what you live for, not what you brush off and push out the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-2022307610766348872?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2022307610766348872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/07/twenty-one.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2022307610766348872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2022307610766348872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/07/twenty-one.html' title='Twenty One'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-4355397690136310196</id><published>2009-06-19T15:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T16:08:04.936-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>I know I have been gone...</title><content type='html'>but if I could crawl out of my skin right now I would.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-4355397690136310196?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/4355397690136310196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-know-i-have-been-gone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/4355397690136310196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/4355397690136310196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-know-i-have-been-gone.html' title='I know I have been gone...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-4976261141110919751</id><published>2009-04-30T21:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T21:59:49.621-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letting go'/><title type='text'>Things I long to hear...</title><content type='html'>"I am not a guy who fights, but I should have fought for you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a tough day, with a lot of thing I really need to think about. Some things that I cannot get out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so scared to be alone, but aren't I really alone already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not where I wanted to be at almost 25.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fought for you, but all I hear is you are not sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not sure I want to wait to find out, because you should have fought for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-4976261141110919751?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/4976261141110919751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-i-long-to-hear.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/4976261141110919751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/4976261141110919751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-i-long-to-hear.html' title='Things I long to hear...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-3521536951852595182</id><published>2009-04-23T21:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T21:58:51.060-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>I am not going to chase you...</title><content type='html'>I am not going to chase you. I am not going to continue to expect you to show up because you can't and you don't, ever. This is not a relationship we are in, this is you getting exactly what you want. Exactly what you have convinced yourself is what is going to make you happy and fix all of your problems.  I am done chasing you, I am done trying to be the glue that olds our relationship together. I am letting go, I am trying to make myself happy. I love you, I will always love you. I thought you were the love of my life, I imagined my whole future with you and you just say things like " I am not sure what I want" "I don't know if I want to be with you". It makes me sick inside to even hear your voice in my head saying those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to let you go, we never see eachother, we dont talk, I feel like I have lost my best friend. But I don't even know you. Sometimes there is a glimmer of what I thought we had together, but if it is so easy for you to exclude me from your life. I want to believe the saying "if you love something let it go and if it comes back to you then it is yours forever" but what if i dont want to wait for that. We have been together for almost 4 years, if you dont know if you want to be with me now when will you ever know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With everything that has happened and how many times you have lied to me I should be angry with you, why can't I be angry?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-3521536951852595182?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/3521536951852595182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-not-going-to-chase-you.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3521536951852595182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3521536951852595182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-not-going-to-chase-you.html' title='I am not going to chase you...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-8178155343062262474</id><published>2009-04-15T21:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T22:02:02.230-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='face the facts'/><title type='text'>Things I need to get off my chest</title><content type='html'>So months ago, maybe no months LuLu did a great post where she wrote little snippets to people without saying who she was directly speaking to...I loved the idea so here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were wrong, I am lovable. I am not a fat cow and I am not alone. I have not been alone in years because I have some wonderful friends (if they live in this city or not). I never understood why you called me 20 times that night (you know the night, years after we saw eachother last) or why you have not called since but you were an asshole and for years I wished bad things for you. Now I know you were lashing out at me to look cool for the other kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know you were unfaithful to me, I know you would lie to my face all the time but I think we both know I dished it back. But what you told me day in and day out has damaged me forever. Thank you for telling me all the time that you wouldnt love me if I gained weight. I was a college athlete, in better shape than most woman can dream of, but that was still never good enough for you. I know now that you were not enough for me and that I put up with your crap for far to long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I remember  now, what you did to me when I was five and you were ten and then again when we were older. I didn't until you  made a joke about it, then it hit me like a ton of bricks, it is not a joke. I thought for years that you and I had this amazing connection. It turns out you were just the first boy who kissed me, who did other things to me when I was all too young. I though you were the love of my life for over 15 years. Turns out, that was just a defense mechanism, to protect me from you. I convinced myself that you and I had a connection, well we do. But is is not one you should be proud of, what you did me has forever altered the way I see men and sex. All I wanted to do was be with you, the only thing I wanted to do was make you happy, but it was all a lie. I was too young for what you did to me, what you said I wanted you to do. Why can I not pull myself away from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You threated to kill me, why would I owe you an apology?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So I think that is enough for tonight, they are not well thought out and seem to ramble on. Maybe I will try again tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-8178155343062262474?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/8178155343062262474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-i-need-to-get-off-my-chest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8178155343062262474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8178155343062262474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-i-need-to-get-off-my-chest.html' title='Things I need to get off my chest'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-3181882488794261632</id><published>2009-04-12T23:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T23:22:21.391-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>Lost...</title><content type='html'>I know I have been gone for a while, I am still struggling with what exactly I should be saying. Rather, what I want to be saying. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't have clever TMI posts, or the secret project (not that I don't love those posts) but i have really been struggling to find my voice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am going through a really rough or terrible  time in a relationship that has been a significant part of my life for the last four years. And I believe in signs, and I keep seeing signs to not give up, to hold on, to tough it out, but every time I think things cannot get any worse....they do. We try to communicate but there is so much baggage we individually carry that it is hard to get past those walls we both have built. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't love myself and he doesn't know how to love anyone. Wonderful combination. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't always want to write about this, but currently this is sort of my life. I feel foolish because I have lived in Dreamtown for two years, and I have made very few friends. I feel like I don't even remember how to make friends. I have friends from work but they are not the type of friends you share your whole life with, there are very few people I feel I can talk to who won't judge me. Not that I should care what people think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do you get back to the beginning, without feeling like you are totally abandoning the other person? How do I make myself happy in this mess I have created? I changed my whole life's path for this relationship and for the life I thought it meant I would share with Officer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was on the fast track in the advertising world (seriously) in the greatest city in America (and I don't mean NYC) and although Officer was not the entire reason I walked away from it all, he played a big part. Now I am in a much smaller city with an even smaller advertising community and it has made me feel lost in my career path because it is nothing like where I was before. You try to adapt and grow where the opportunities are but there  isn't the rush, the challenge, the change, the struggle to push yourself farther than you thought possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In short I am utterly and completely .....L O S T &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/4225896919634871901-3181882488794261632?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/3181882488794261632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/lost.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3181882488794261632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3181882488794261632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/04/lost.html' title='Lost...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2482121856503644079</id><published>2009-03-25T19:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T19:40:23.671-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='highschool'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='history'/><title type='text'>Blast from the past</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I received a very interesting message on facebook. It was an absolute blast from the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;"So, I'm supposed to be studying for my Nursing midterm but instead I decided to clean out all my old junk I have stored. I came across a box I had saved with stuff that apparently I found it important to save from grade school. On the top was a pack of pictures from a "photo shoot" we did in you room which really made me laugh. However, the next thing underneath it was a letter from you. I know this probably doesn't mean anything now but I was really hateful to you and I'm sorry. Looking back I was a bitch and for no good reason and I'm sorry. I think I was just trying to find my place and fit in but on the way there I actually lost myself. You were probably the best friend I had those years. You don't have to reply or anything I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for the way I acted and that I wasn't a better friend to you back then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;It is the truth, she made my life hell, not only in grade school but also my freshman year of high school.  I am not going to lie, I am still bitter about some of the things she did. So my question is, highschool is long over, nothing can ever be undone, should I let it all go? It probably took a lot for her to send me that message. I have moved past things, but does it warrant a response? I dont see us ever becoming close friends again, we dont live in the same city and have not run in the same circle for years. If I did respond, what the ef would I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-2482121856503644079?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2482121856503644079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/blast-from-past.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2482121856503644079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2482121856503644079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/blast-from-past.html' title='Blast from the past'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2421219489406572840</id><published>2009-03-22T22:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T22:37:30.142-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mask'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fear'/><title type='text'>Please Hear What I'm Not Saying</title><content type='html'>So I have been struggling with what to post about next because so much has happened, I just don't know how to put it into words. But I found this poem by Charles C. Finn that I like. It is rather long but bear with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Please Hear What I'm Not Saying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be fooled by me.&lt;br /&gt;Don't be fooled by the face I wear.&lt;br /&gt;For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,&lt;br /&gt;masks that I'm afraid to take off, and non of them is me.&lt;br /&gt;Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled&lt;br /&gt;For God's sake don't be fooled.&lt;br /&gt;I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me,&lt;br /&gt;within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,&lt;br /&gt;that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.&lt;br /&gt;But don't believe me.&lt;br /&gt;My surface may seem smooth but my surface is a mask,&lt;br /&gt;ever-varying and ever-concealing.&lt;br /&gt;Beneath lies no complacence.&lt;br /&gt;Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.&lt;br /&gt;But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear of being exposed.&lt;br /&gt;That's why i frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade,&lt;br /&gt;to help me pretend , to shield me from the glance that knows.&lt;br /&gt;But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only hope and i know it.&lt;br /&gt;That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love.&lt;br /&gt;It's the only thing that can liberate my from myself,&lt;br /&gt;that I am really worth something.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good,&lt;br /&gt;and that you will see this and reject me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,&lt;br /&gt;with a facade of assurance without and trembling child within.&lt;br /&gt;So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front.&lt;br /&gt;I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.&lt;br /&gt;I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything,&lt;br /&gt;of what's crying within me.&lt;br /&gt;So when I'm going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying.&lt;br /&gt;Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,&lt;br /&gt;what I'd like to be able to say,&lt;br /&gt;what for survival I need to say,&lt;br /&gt;but what I can't say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to hide.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to place superficial phony games.&lt;br /&gt;I want to stop playing them.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me.&lt;br /&gt;You've got to hold out your hand&lt;br /&gt;even when that's the last thing I seem to want.&lt;br /&gt;Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead.&lt;br /&gt;Only you can call me into aliveness.&lt;br /&gt;Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings,&lt;br /&gt;very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings!&lt;br /&gt;With your power to touch my into feeling you can breathe life into me.&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know that.&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know how important you are to me,&lt;br /&gt;how you can be a creator--a honest-to-God creator--&lt;br /&gt;of the person that is me&lt;br /&gt;if you choose to.&lt;br /&gt;You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,&lt;br /&gt;you alone can remove my mask,&lt;br /&gt;you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic and uncertainty,&lt;br /&gt;   from my lonely prison,&lt;br /&gt;if you choose to.&lt;br /&gt;Please choose to. Do not pass me by.&lt;br /&gt;It will not be easy for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.&lt;br /&gt;The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back.&lt;br /&gt;It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man, often I am irrational.&lt;br /&gt;I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.&lt;br /&gt;But I am told that love is stronger than strong alls, and in this lies my hope.&lt;br /&gt;Please try to beat down these walls with firm hands but with gentle hands&lt;br /&gt;for a child is very sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I, you may wonder?&lt;br /&gt;I am someone you know very well.&lt;br /&gt;For I am every man you  meet&lt;br /&gt;and i am every woman you meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;My life has been full of a series of abusive relationships, and I am trying to throw myself into recovery. I am not sure what that word recovery means but I am tried of being a door mate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;I still worry about posting extremely personal stuff here for fear of judgment or lack of interest. But I think that is something I need to get over. I should not care if people read what I have to say or not, as long as I say it out loud where others might hear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-2421219489406572840?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2421219489406572840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/please-hear-what-im-not-saying.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2421219489406572840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2421219489406572840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/please-hear-what-im-not-saying.html' title='Please Hear What I&apos;m Not Saying'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-7812533696033175132</id><published>2009-03-16T23:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T23:43:02.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kreativ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='7 Things'/><title type='text'>Kreativ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K1aHJpUUZVc/Sb8nAu0mlcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vtyt_Ixo-WU/s1600-h/kreativ_blogger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K1aHJpUUZVc/Sb8nAu0mlcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vtyt_Ixo-WU/s320/kreativ_blogger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314008978842621378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to &lt;a href="http://dvkm.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rich at New Dollian&lt;/a&gt; I officially feel like a "real" blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been tagged as Kreativ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Things I love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Music&lt;br /&gt;2. Swimming&lt;br /&gt;3. Reading Everything in sight&lt;br /&gt;4. Sailing&lt;br /&gt;5. Photography&lt;br /&gt;6. The Ocean&lt;br /&gt;7. The buzz of making a new connection and a new friend (good one Rich)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Bloggers I love&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://ablondiemoment.wordpress.com"&gt;Blondie @ A Blondie Moment&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span class="entry-author-name"&gt;&lt;a href="http://imerika.wordpress.com"&gt;Imerika @ Refreshingly Honest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://startingoverat24.blogspot.com/"&gt;SO@24&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://adorablybitter.wordpress.com"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-author-name"&gt;adorablybitter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;a href="http://www.livitluvit.com"&gt;LiLu @ LiveitLoveit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;span class="entry-author-name"&gt;&lt;a href="http://twoliablog.com/the-catherinette-chronicles"&gt;Catherinette here&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://http://catherinette.wordpress.com/"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;a href="http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com"&gt;Brandy @ It's like I'm mmmagic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Here are the award rules:&lt;br /&gt;List 7 things that you love, and then pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you love! Be sure to tag them and let them know that they have won. You can copy the picture of the award and paste it on your sideboard letting the whole world know...you are Kreativ!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know how to tag people other than what I just did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/7635649475948697641-8068213841229386210?l=dvkm.blogspot.com" height="1" width="1" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-7812533696033175132?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/7812533696033175132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/kreativ.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7812533696033175132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7812533696033175132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/kreativ.html' title='Kreativ'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K1aHJpUUZVc/Sb8nAu0mlcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vtyt_Ixo-WU/s72-c/kreativ_blogger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-2822314649506640412</id><published>2009-03-11T20:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T21:27:32.342-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creepy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stalker'/><title type='text'>Creepy</title><content type='html'>I generally don't like to call people out for things but enough is enough. There is this person, Petry, who cannot take a hint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Petry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are creeping me out, I have not talked to you in almost three months, not one word. And I wont ever again. Please stop contacting me, emailing me, texting me and whatever other form of communication you may try. For months before we got to the point of not talking you were trying to have a relationship with me, an inappropriate relationship (because no matter how bad my current relationship is I am not a cheater).  Every time you tell me you love me and miss me and need me you make me really uncomfortable. I had asked you to stop &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;R E P E A T E D L Y! &lt;/span&gt;I told you I didn’t want to hear those things from you EVER. There is a line, and you have crossed it, it is now called stalking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please leave me alone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the deal, I am generally not a mean person, but Petry became/is obsessive (stalking). What started as a working relationship I will admit turned into a friendship. But I never gave him any inclination that I ever felt it was or would be more than a friendship. But then he started doing and saying things friends don’t say to each other. So I asked him to leave me alone as a friend and we could just work together.  The feeling I got from him was just all wrong, I didn’t ever feel comfortable and I still don’t. He is trying to be everywhere. He did leave me alone for a few months, but then he started crossing the line again. I was in a bad spot and needed a friend and Petry took advantage of the situation. I quickly corrected my ways. He began texting me every night that he misses me and loves me. Wanted to know why I didn’t want to talk to him on the phone. My boyfriend saw my phone, the texts, emails everything.  I have been open and honest about Petry and Officer was aware that I was really uncomfortable, and not encouraging this sort of behavior. We both decided I should just stop talking to Petry, that hopefully he would get the hint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was almost three months ago. Now Petry is commenting on my blog, trying add me under different names on Twitter and still texting and emailing. I have had to change my privacy settings on almost everything.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What else can I do? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-2822314649506640412?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/2822314649506640412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/creepy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2822314649506640412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/2822314649506640412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/creepy.html' title='Creepy'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-5704820966865937402</id><published>2009-03-10T22:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T23:12:37.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is why...</title><content type='html'>This is precisely why I thought we should take two weeks and not talk to or see each other. But he asked me not to cut him out of my life so I didn’t. (this is a pattern you will see with me that I am trying to work on, I don’t know how to put myself first) I knew it then and I know it now, about a week and a half into this new existence we were both going to realize that neither of us knew what the hell to do. Fights were harder because we never see each other and tensions were higher to make the most of the time we do spend together. And now tonight after years of asking for this kind of respect, he tells me that he is just not in the mood to talk to anyone. If the past were not the past I would believe him, but now I just cant. It just makes me wonder, because it is her day off, even if he does have to work tonight. My gut is burning and guilt seems to sting the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should go back to the beginning but I don’t want to, I don’t know if I am in a place where I can write down everything that has happened. Maybe it is because that means I will have to face everything I have put up with. Everything I have believed in him through. All the parts of myself that I have sacrificed and put aside to “take care of” him to take care of everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no easy way out of this, I know I need to rewrite my priorities and put myself at the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday I will write it all down and tell you what happened. If anyone ones to hear about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-5704820966865937402?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/5704820966865937402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-why.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/5704820966865937402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/5704820966865937402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-why.html' title='This is why...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-1448428924183392836</id><published>2009-03-06T15:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T15:58:45.391-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Bareilles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tyalor Swift'/><title type='text'>You're Not Sorry...</title><content type='html'>If you would rather listen Click &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsCY-UKwcsA"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this time I was wasting, Hoping you would come around&lt;br /&gt;I've been givin' out chances every time&lt;br /&gt;And all you do is let me down&lt;br /&gt;And it's taken me this long baby&lt;br /&gt;But I figured you out&lt;br /&gt;And you think it would be fine again&lt;br /&gt;But not this time around&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to call anymore&lt;br /&gt;I won't pick up the phone&lt;br /&gt;This is the last straw&lt;br /&gt;Don't wanna hurt anymore&lt;br /&gt;And you can tell me that you're sorry&lt;br /&gt;But I don't believe you baby, Like I did before&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;Oh no, no, no.&lt;br /&gt;Looking so innocent, I might believe you if I didn't know&lt;br /&gt;Could've loved you all my life&lt;br /&gt;If you hadn't left me waitin' in the cold&lt;br /&gt;And you got to share your secrets&lt;br /&gt;And I'm tired of being last to know&lt;br /&gt;And now you're asking me to listen&lt;br /&gt;Cause it's worked each time before&lt;br /&gt;But you don't have to call anymore&lt;br /&gt;I won't pick up the phone&lt;br /&gt;This is the last straw&lt;br /&gt;Don't wanna hurt anymore&lt;br /&gt;And you can tell me that you're sorry&lt;br /&gt;But I don't believe you baby, Like I did before&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;No, no, Oh.&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;No, no, Oh.&lt;br /&gt;You had me crawling for you honey&lt;br /&gt;And it never would have gone away, no&lt;br /&gt;You used to shine so bright, But I watched all of it fade&lt;br /&gt;So you don't have to call anymore&lt;br /&gt;I won't pick up the phone&lt;br /&gt;This is the last straw&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing left to beg for&lt;br /&gt;And you can tell me that you're sorry&lt;br /&gt;But I don't believe you baby, Like I did before&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;No, no, Oh.&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;No, no. Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Ms. Taylor Swift, I Love this song!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also if you would rather watch Click &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBiGrHc0Xy4"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;...i dont know how to get the actual video in the post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something always brings me back to you.&lt;br /&gt;It never takes too long.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what I say or do&lt;br /&gt;I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.&lt;br /&gt;You hold me without touch.&lt;br /&gt;You keep me without chains.&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign&lt;br /&gt;Set me free, leave me be.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.&lt;br /&gt;Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;But you're on to me and all over me.&lt;br /&gt;You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.&lt;br /&gt;When I thought that I was strong.&lt;br /&gt;But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.&lt;br /&gt;Set me free, leave me be.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.&lt;br /&gt;Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;But you're on to me and all over me.&lt;br /&gt;I live here on my knees as I try to make you see&lt;br /&gt;that you're everything I think I need here on&lt;br /&gt;The ground.&lt;br /&gt;But you're neither friend nor foe&lt;br /&gt;though I can't seem to let you go.&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also a big thanks to Ms. Sara Bareilles for this song.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-1448428924183392836?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/1448428924183392836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/youre-not-sorry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1448428924183392836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1448428924183392836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/youre-not-sorry.html' title='You&apos;re Not Sorry...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-3867256798328601858</id><published>2009-03-05T18:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T13:26:25.569-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Need'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Want'/><title type='text'>My Truth: Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I need what I say to matter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter who I say it to, but right now there are two people in particular. Wait three that i can think of where I not only want what I say to matter but I NEED it to matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I make this happen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-3867256798328601858?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/3867256798328601858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-truth-part-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3867256798328601858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/3867256798328601858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-truth-part-i.html' title='My Truth: Part I'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-722583753728379519</id><published>2009-03-04T22:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T22:57:05.904-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='questioning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Looking Back...Questioning</title><content type='html'>So I was reading &lt;a href="http://http://imerika.wordpress.com/2009/02/26/its-hard-to-let-go/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; and then &lt;a href="http://http://imerika.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/its-hard-to-let-gountil-you-admit-what-your-relationship-wasnt/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But either way it really got me thinking. I pulled out all of my old journals and started reading, kept reading and then read some more. And it is true we seem to easily forget the disappointment we have been feeling for a while. The things we tell ourselves are going to change, things we don’t think we wont put up with ever again. As you read you realize everything you said you would never put up with again is what you have been living with for month’s maybe even years. The things you thought would change are the things that have driven a wedge so deep between the two of you that you feel you can never recover. Because communication was lost, walls were built and change was halted because each person has too concerned with protecting themselves and not dealing with their own issues that they are unable to be in a successful mature relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you start to wonder, even with therapy, even with years of patience could you ever bring back the passion? Could the relationship be successful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could We ever be successful?  Why can I not get past the comfort and see that the issue we are having have only gotten worse. His unfaithfulness and lying are progressing. Why I am pathetic enough to stay, why do I believe in him so much? Because I don’t trust him, and I tormented by terrible thoughts of what he could be doing, what he has done. Things that make me stick to my stomach and make it hard to look him in the eye. I question everything, every single thing that comes out of his mouth. Why can I not just tell him to get out of my life??  How many times can I go through this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that relationships have cycles, you are not always head over heals for each other, people fall in and out of love but they are still committed to one another. Committed to working on it every day, knowing that the person they are with is their match, but how they know I have no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-722583753728379519?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/722583753728379519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/looking-backquestioning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/722583753728379519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/722583753728379519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/03/looking-backquestioning.html' title='Looking Back...Questioning'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-8923915619776415757</id><published>2009-02-25T12:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T12:51:17.899-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MadMen'/><title type='text'>Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;You are a Marilyn -- "I am affectionate and skeptical."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marilyns are responsible, trustworthy, and value loyalty to family, friends, groups, and causes. Their personalities range broadly from reserved and timid to outspoken and confrontative.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How to Get Along with Me&lt;br /&gt;* Be direct and clear and do not lie to me, ever&lt;br /&gt;* Listen to me carefully&lt;br /&gt;* Don't judge me for my anxiety&lt;br /&gt;* Work things through with me&lt;br /&gt;* Reassure me that everything is OK between us&lt;br /&gt;* Laugh and make jokes with me&lt;br /&gt;* Gently push me toward new experiences&lt;br /&gt;* Try not to overreact to my overreacting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  What's Hard About Being a Marilyn&lt;br /&gt;* the constant push and pull involved in trying to make up my mind&lt;br /&gt;* procrastinating because of fear of failure; having little confidence in myself&lt;br /&gt;* fearing being abandoned or taken advantage of&lt;br /&gt;* exhausting myself by worrying and scanning for danger&lt;br /&gt;* wishing I had a rule book at work so I could do everything right&lt;br /&gt;* being too critical of myself when I haven't lived up to my expectations &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So strange that this is me, sounds a lot like me. I love Mad Men and that is why this quiz I took caught my eye. &lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/are-you-a-jackie-or-a-marilyn-or-someone-else-mad-menera-female-icon-quiz"&gt;http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/are-you-a-jackie-or-a-marilyn-or-someone-else-mad-menera-female-icon-quiz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Have fun. Do you think this is an accurate picture of me? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-8923915619776415757?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/8923915619776415757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/are-you-jackie-or-marilyn-or-someone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8923915619776415757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8923915619776415757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/are-you-jackie-or-marilyn-or-someone.html' title='Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-104069079173643739</id><published>2009-02-23T15:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T15:21:23.544-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jail'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Monday, not so fun day</title><content type='html'>So I started my day with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good morning, I just walked through to say good morning to everyone. I noticed that it is 8:15 and no one in my media department is in. We are really cranking to keep business coming in, including media. I really need your full support ready and working on time…but also being willing to help get us through when needed at the end of the day too. In fact, the entire company is encouraged to be engaged in sales. We are slammed with RFPs and marketing and account management cannot get them all done because much of the work we’ve turned in the past 3 months is hitting them the hardest. Thank you. The Prez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, are you questioning my commitment or what here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi All,I’ve received complaints about microwave use—someone used the microwave this morning and did not cover their food. It blew all over the top, making the microwave stink. Someone tried to use the microwave and had to clean it first. It’s as simple as a paper towel over the plate or bowl, which takes less time than the cleaning process for you or someone else. Please try to remember. Thank you! Office B&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously I work in a office full of people who sweat the small stuff…so needless to say the office is a bit tense today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now we have this…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toxic Shock Woman’s son got arrested for shop lifting today, it is quite amusing. Not only was he cutting school but he got arrested for stealing condoms. Seriously just condoms…apparently he is so scared of “my life is so much worse than yours ever will be woman” that he lied about all his information. So they took him to jail. And for the first time she is not going to let him walk all over her, he is going to sit there till she is good and ready to go pick him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now she is back at my desk telling me how to do my job, again. Better Go. Shhh no blogging at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-104069079173643739?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/104069079173643739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/monday-not-so-fun-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/104069079173643739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/104069079173643739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/monday-not-so-fun-day.html' title='Monday, not so fun day'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-7207108856859215403</id><published>2009-02-18T10:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T11:05:04.759-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='about me'/><title type='text'>Because I'm bored and trying not to think about things, a silly survey to take up some time.</title><content type='html'>A- Available: Most definitely not&lt;br /&gt;- Age: 24- Annoyance: people who act like they are better than others and liars&lt;br /&gt;- Animal: cats J two are very near and dear to my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B- Beer: Ugh, no thanks (insert image of me making the international I HATE beer face)&lt;br /&gt;- Birthday: July 26&lt;br /&gt;- Best Friend: you know who you are&lt;br /&gt;- Body Part on opposite sex: I prefer if they have them&lt;br /&gt;- Best feeling in the world: happiness&lt;br /&gt;- Blind or Deaf: tough call&lt;br /&gt;- Best weather: thunderstorms and snow lots and lots&lt;br /&gt;- Been in Love: Still am…&lt;br /&gt;- Been on stage: not in a long time&lt;br /&gt;- Believe in Magic: sometimes&lt;br /&gt;- Believe in Santa: I believe in giving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C- Candy: Reeses&lt;br /&gt;- Color: Dark blues light blues and greens and reds&lt;br /&gt;- Chocolate/Vanilla: Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;- Chinese/Mexican Food: Asian&lt;br /&gt;- Cake or pie: cake- Continent to visit: Australia&lt;br /&gt;- Cheese: ummm not a big cheese eater&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D- Day or Night: currently night&lt;br /&gt;- Dancing in the rain: there’s something sexy ‘bout the rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E- Eyes: hazel and or green&lt;br /&gt;- Everyone's got: to earn my respect&lt;br /&gt;- Ever failed a class?: came close stupid C++&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F- First thoughts waking up: here we go again&lt;br /&gt;- Food: nothing sounds good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G- Greatest Fear: Losing the people close to me, being lied too&lt;br /&gt;- Goals: Be happy and live life&lt;br /&gt;- Gum: ok so I chew it a lot so what???&lt;br /&gt;- Get along with your parents?: yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H- Hair Color: what day is it?&lt;br /&gt;- Height: short- Happy: doing my best&lt;br /&gt;- Holiday: fourth of July&lt;br /&gt;- How do you want to die: Without a lot of regrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I- Ice Cream: peanut butter chip. Karen do you deliver?&lt;br /&gt;- Instrument: I am not that talented&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J- Jewelry: I like it in moderation&lt;br /&gt;- Job: is an evil three letter word&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K- Kids: no freaking way&lt;br /&gt;- Kickboxing or karate: kickboxing&lt;br /&gt;- Keep a journal?: Yep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L- Love: What about it?&lt;br /&gt;- Letter: W&lt;br /&gt;- Laughed so hard you cried: A lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M- Milk flavor: skim&lt;br /&gt;- Movies: most definitely, yes, thanks&lt;br /&gt;- Motion sickness: not really, but riding in a car can put me to sleep...like a baby…for hours&lt;br /&gt;- McD’s or BK: Taco Bell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N- Number: 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O- One wish: keeping that in the quiet of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P- Pepsi/Coke: Dr. Pepper&lt;br /&gt;- Perfect Pizza: Chicago Deep Dish&lt;br /&gt;- Piercings: none&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q- Quail: Quailman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R- Reason to cry: not even going there&lt;br /&gt;- Reality T.V.: sadly yes, but hey deadliest catch…&lt;br /&gt;- Radio Station: my computer&lt;br /&gt;-Roll your tongue in a circle: I can, also into three&lt;br /&gt;- Ring size: fat fingers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S- Song: honestly depends on the moment&lt;br /&gt;- Shoe size: yes I have very small feet&lt;br /&gt;- Salad Dressing: ranch&lt;br /&gt;- Sushi: yes please&lt;br /&gt;- Skinny dipped?: yep&lt;br /&gt;- In the shower?: there is water&lt;br /&gt;- Strawberries/Blueberries: strawberries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T- Tattoos?: yep 2, it is an addiction.&lt;br /&gt;-Time for bed: not so big on sleeping these days.&lt;br /&gt;- Thunderstorms: never enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U- Unpredictable: life and the people around you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V- Vacation spot(s): BVI, sail boat, the mountains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W- Weakness: too much faith in people&lt;br /&gt;- Which one of your friends acts the most like you: ummm?&lt;br /&gt;- Worst feeling: feeling betrayed&lt;br /&gt;- Wanted to be a model: was a child model&lt;br /&gt;- Worst Weather?: the kind that kills people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X- X-Rays: several, but of course it is impossible to break fingers like that he said….RIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y-Year it is now: last I checked it was still 2009-&lt;br /&gt;Yellow: makes me sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z- Zoo animal(s): my family&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-7207108856859215403?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/7207108856859215403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/because-im-bored-and-trying-not-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7207108856859215403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/7207108856859215403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/because-im-bored-and-trying-not-to.html' title='Because I&apos;m bored and trying not to think about things, a silly survey to take up some time.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-6122057859006193945</id><published>2009-02-16T16:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T16:36:40.301-06:00</updated><title type='text'>History...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;“So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new, And happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you.” Led Zeppelin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been re-reading his blog, back from the beginning, basically depressing the hell out of myself. I don’t know how we got from there to where we are now but I found tears streaming down my face. I know people change, I know time moves on but what got in the way of all of that??  The way he use to talk about me, our love our life. It is beautifully captivating. It reminds me of why I feel in love with him in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I constantly try to cause myself more pain, or I am searching for a way to bring back the love? He told me he had been rereading it well them both to go back to the start. So I thought I would too, just to go back to the beginning before all of this baggage got in the way. It is plain and simple when you read it. There was nothing that could come between us. Not random hook ups with other people, me being in another country, drunken nights, awful fights, we share a connection. We both professed that we would never let go. What do I do if we both say we still feel that same connection we just lost the strength of it somewhere??? I know I can still feel it, I can still feel him when he walks into a room, and there is just some pull there, something I cannot explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was once so strong is now so weak, such a huge question in my life. I know that if I walk away there will be a huge hole in my life, but not only my life but it feels like the depth of my soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-6122057859006193945?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/6122057859006193945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/history.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6122057859006193945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/6122057859006193945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/history.html' title='History...'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-1142873092930783197</id><published>2009-02-13T13:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T13:15:07.399-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartache'/><title type='text'>My whole life is “have to”…he says</title><content type='html'>I don’t want to be somebody’s &lt;strong&gt;“have to”&lt;/strong&gt; I want to be somebody’s “want to”…though the statement was not directed at me I am a part of his life. I don’t know if I am in that category but the word &lt;em&gt;whole &lt;/em&gt;is pretty much a glairing fact that I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been so many things that say Witty, this man is not making you a priority, this man does not respect you, this man does not have your best interest at heart any more. I feel as though every day is a new slap in the face a new realization of how low I am on the scale. His scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am having trouble defining my scale and finding a place for myself. Because I know to do that, I have to cause myself an immense amount of pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again how do I know which pain is worse?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-1142873092930783197?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/1142873092930783197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-whole-life-is-have-tohe-says.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1142873092930783197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1142873092930783197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-whole-life-is-have-tohe-says.html' title='My whole life is “have to”…he says'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-1465634444727460108</id><published>2009-02-12T15:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:18:06.762-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Here Again.</title><content type='html'>I am at a place where I have so much I want and need to say, to get off my chest that I am speechless and have been for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last 6 months or so my life has done a complete 180 from where I thought it was headed and every time I find myself thinking things cant get worse than this, they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to see the light, to find the good, to believe consistently that everything in life happens for a reason. The lesson just is not there yet, I know the theory that you cannot appreciate the good without the bad but I have just about had my fill of the bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else can I do or learn from this? It is hard not to be angry and feel that this has been some sort of test. Some sort of way to make me change everything about who I am, or maybe it is just forcing me to get back to who I was, the person I liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when nothing could stand in my way, I did what I wanted when I wanted and I didn’t care who else it impacted. But now I feel as though my whole life is out of my control, every decision that has any meaningful impact is being made for me, or without me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person that matters the most to me seems to not think of us at all. He is off on his own mission to find himself. Which in turn has forced me to realize all the things I have become that I said I would never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is good, and is something I must face, whether I am ready or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-1465634444727460108?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/1465634444727460108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/here-again.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1465634444727460108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/1465634444727460108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2009/02/here-again.html' title='Here Again.'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225896919634871901.post-8544883010117013562</id><published>2008-12-22T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T11:10:41.307-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Return to the Beginning</title><content type='html'>so i have another blog, a very old very personal blog but i cannot remember the username and password so it is forever locked away without editing. Maybe that is good, maybe it means that part of my life has come to an end and i have started a new path. Several things have changed since my last post on that blog but one thing remains the same. The man in my life, whom I still love dearly. But I feel like we are getting lost. And how better to find my way and maybe our way back than to go back to the beginning…back to the start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4225896919634871901-8544883010117013562?l=thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/feeds/8544883010117013562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2008/12/return-to-beginning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8544883010117013562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4225896919634871901/posts/default/8544883010117013562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thespotwherethingsarenot2.blogspot.com/2008/12/return-to-beginning.html' title='Return to the Beginning'/><author><name>Witty</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
