<?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-8958532540671227143</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:48:14.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>just me</title><subtitle type='html'>desert wanderings</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-1738139200298394222</id><published>2008-10-28T18:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T19:01:24.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>okay, keeping two blogs was just too much work, so i decided to just keep my livejournal one. i liked the background choices better. This site has like, four choices. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you can find it at desertwanderer.livejournal.com. You can only leave a comment if you have a livejournal account, though. Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-1738139200298394222?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/1738139200298394222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=1738139200298394222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1738139200298394222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1738139200298394222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/10/okay-keeping-two-blogs-was-just-too.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-9184994276260243917</id><published>2008-02-07T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T23:52:41.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>baptisms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i went and did baptisms with mykle tonight at the provo temple. it was really crowded, it seemed to me. it was the first time i've ever been inside that temple; i've always admired the outside, because it looks like a fountain. mykle said he read somewhere that it's supposed to look like a pillar of fire. fire, water, either way, it's beautiful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  the fountains in front are so pretty. one of them the water would go very low, and then gradually shoot upwards about two feet higher, moving up and down as you watch it. i liked that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; i learned something new about myself tonight. when i went to the LA temple in california every week last fall/winter, i always HATED it when people would talk at the temple. it drove me crazy! i just wanted everyone to be completely silent, unless they were baptizing or confirming, anything else just killed the spirit for me. i was way tense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; mykle, as you know, likes to talk. so it should come as no surprise to me that he would talk in the temple. at first it bothered me, but after awhile, i began to relax. and i realized that really, there is nothing wrong with talking in the temple, as long as it is in a courteous whisper and the things you are saying draw the spirit closer to you. and i know you're thinking that i just changed my mind because it's mykle and mykle can do no wrong. but that's not true, because i got mad at him just tonight. i know he's not perfect, and i'm glad. perfection is intimidating. i liked talking to him in the temple, and having someone to hold my hand while we waited for our turn to get in the water. there was such a nice, peaceful feeling there, and it's lingered with me even after we left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; the provo temple is so beautiful. they have this massive portrait of jesus and john the baptist in the water as you descend the steps to the baptismal font. that's one of my favorite paintings of christ. my favorite part tonight was when we got into the water, and i looked up and saw these enormous mirrors all up and down the wall in front of us and the wall behind us, and i could see me standing there with mykle holding my wrist, going on forever into infinity. blurry, but beautiful. (i had my glasses off)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; i like that in the provo temple, there are always enough people so that you don't have to call and make appointments. everyone does three names, and it was set up so that mykle got to baptize me, no problem. i liked him baptizing me. it felt real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-9184994276260243917?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/9184994276260243917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=9184994276260243917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/9184994276260243917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/9184994276260243917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/02/baptisms.html' title='baptisms'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-7002561420110460664</id><published>2008-02-04T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T17:31:41.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Sibling Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6e8LPET_VI/AAAAAAAAAGs/WdU7cFXFj8o/s1600-h/n17802058_34580216_9137.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6e8LPET_VI/AAAAAAAAAGs/WdU7cFXFj8o/s400/n17802058_34580216_9137.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163302399012765010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;saturday sibling dinner was the best one ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; i brought mykle with me, and i was really excited going into it to see how kate and joe would like him. i had this feeling that joe would get along with him really well and kate would think he's nice but kind of weird. i have no idea if mykle was nervous or not; if he was, he sure didn't show it. unless he did show it and i just couldn't tell because i don't know what it looks like when he's nervous. whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; he and joe really hit it off. i have never had any of my friends or boyfriends get along so well with joe before. i mean, they always got along, but the way mykle and joe were talking, it just seemed like they could be friends even if i wasn't in the picture. they are so alike!! kind of scary, actually... i never thought i'd date a boy who's like my BROTHER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; kate and danny were so funny. i can't even remember half the things they said at dinner, but i was laughing the whole time. afterwards, we watched Howl's Moving Castle, which mykle brought with him. he had read the book before and was explaining what was going on during the movie; i had to keep telling him to be quiet! joe wants to read the book now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; i really liked the movie. i'd never seen it before, and the animation was very well-done. i especially liked calcipher, the fire demon, and the wheezing dog. they were so cute! whenever the dog came on the screen, joe and kate and danny would start wheezing along with him, which drove mykle crazy! it was pretty hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; the funniest part of the entire evening was when joe had just left, and i said something along the lines of "poor joe, i'll bet he wishes he had a girl." and danny said "well, so did the prince!" referring to the ending of the movie when the prince gets unenchanted and tells sophie "you're my true love!" and she's already in love with howl, so the prince ends up alone. maybe you had to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; kate loved mykle. she thought he was really cool. i knew they'd adore him. he's just such a likeable guy, you know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://i249.photobucket.com/albums/gg210/svasicek/n17802058_34580216_9137.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-7002561420110460664?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/7002561420110460664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=7002561420110460664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/7002561420110460664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/7002561420110460664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/02/saturday-sibling-dinner.html' title='Saturday Sibling Dinner'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6e8LPET_VI/AAAAAAAAAGs/WdU7cFXFj8o/s72-c/n17802058_34580216_9137.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-8484231873394545300</id><published>2008-02-04T15:51:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T16:05:02.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i have library fines again. oh well.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;i feel pretty today:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; so my sister got engaged yesterday. wow! i always knew she'd be the first one. the wedding will probably be may 24th, in the boston temple. that SUCKS that i won't be able to see it. why can't nineteen-almost-twenty-year-old women who aren't married and haven't served missions go through the temple?? there's probably a really good reason for it. i just feel like whining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; yesterday i ate dinner at mykle's house. dude, his family is hilarious! we had lots of fun playing scrabble afterwards; mykle and i were a team and we won. but of course, that was to be expected. i always win at scrabble. it sounds snotty, i know, but it is one of the few things i am just really good at. useful, i know. NOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; i had a cheese sandwich for lunch today. i have no idea why i just wrote that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; here are some drawings i did recently:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;the is the christmas vacation series continued. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ensfET_SI/AAAAAAAAAGU/eHtx5vpSBaQ/s1600-h/sc0019b1b2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ensfET_SI/AAAAAAAAAGU/eHtx5vpSBaQ/s400/sc0019b1b2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163279880499232034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;this is what i drew today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ens_ET_TI/AAAAAAAAAGc/igkL_k3RhgE/s1600-h/sc001995e6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ens_ET_TI/AAAAAAAAAGc/igkL_k3RhgE/s400/sc001995e6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163279889089166642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;this is how mykle makes me feel&lt;33&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6entvET_UI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Sugt2MM0QYo/s1600-h/sc0019cdd1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6entvET_UI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Sugt2MM0QYo/s400/sc0019cdd1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163279901974068546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:14px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-8484231873394545300?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/8484231873394545300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=8484231873394545300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/8484231873394545300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/8484231873394545300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-have-library-fines-again-oh-well.html' title='i have library fines again. oh well.'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ensfET_SI/AAAAAAAAAGU/eHtx5vpSBaQ/s72-c/sc0019b1b2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-1196256669591525474</id><published>2008-02-03T15:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T15:06:33.827-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pictures of us</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7PET_OI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YX3tr2bykc0/s1600-h/Photo+23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7PET_OI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YX3tr2bykc0/s400/Photo+23.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162894205320953058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7fET_PI/AAAAAAAAAF8/6JAJjaf4Q3c/s1600-h/Photo+26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7fET_PI/AAAAAAAAAF8/6JAJjaf4Q3c/s400/Photo+26.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162894209615920370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7fET_QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/7qhjf2jKar0/s1600-h/Photo+30.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7fET_QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/7qhjf2jKar0/s400/Photo+30.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162894209615920386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7vET_RI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pByiMoKpZa0/s1600-h/Photo+37.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7vET_RI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pByiMoKpZa0/s400/Photo+37.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162894213910887698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-1196256669591525474?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/1196256669591525474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=1196256669591525474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1196256669591525474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1196256669591525474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/02/pictures-of-us.html' title='pictures of us'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6ZI7PET_OI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YX3tr2bykc0/s72-c/Photo+23.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-4148292110470809892</id><published>2008-02-02T05:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T06:25:58.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>myklemyklemyklemyklemyklemykle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i can't sleep. i'm too in love!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  i know i'm going to regret this later when i'm exhausted and can't keep my eyes open at dinner tonight. but how is a girl supposed to sleep when she's going half insane over some boy??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; guesswhatguesswhatguesswhat???!! we're going out now! mykle is my boyfriend!!! i haven't had a boyfriend since viktor, and that was when i was barely seventeen. it was totally worth the wait, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; he FINALLY kissed me, and i felt like dying! i think i'm going to die now just thinking about it. i told him i was going to die, and he asked me not to, please, because that would be tragic. it's true. but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; oh my gosh, all this recovery shit and incredibly hard work i've done over the past three or four years has been TOTALLY WORTH IT!!! mykle would not like me if i were sick, and i wouldn't be in a position to pay attention to anyone but myself. recovery ROCKS!!! i highly recommend it to anyone with an eating disorder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I was seriously going out of my mind at his house yesterday. he still hadn't kissed me; he knew i wanted him to, but he kept waiting for some reason. then when we were at my house and i was getting stuff for hot chocolate, i stepped forward and kind of buried my head in his neck. i could stay there forever, doing nothing else for the rest of my life but breathing in his smell. he can sense this and thinks it is funny. we sat down on the couch and were cuddling for ages, and i don't know if i've ever been happier. not in this way at least. i was making rows of kisses on his cheek and neck when he finally moved his head and kissed me on the lips. i am only the second girl he's ever kissed, which surprised me because he's had so many girlfriends before. i'm the opposite; kissed a lot, dated only one or two guys. not nearly as honorable, in my opinion, but oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;mykle is a fabulous kisser. at one point he asked me a question, and i couldn't think at ALL! it was funny! it took me a minute to summon enough brain activity to process what he asked. i like that he is always thinking and there are never awkward pauses with him because he loves to talk. hahahahahaha, that sounds pretty hilarious, but it's true! he's totally ADD; we'll be kissing and he'll start laughing because he thought of some funny, random thing. it's entertaining and keeps things from ever getting boring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i could barely stand to let him go. i really think i could just sit and kiss mykle forever, with occasional bathroom breaks. and maybe food and showers. other than that, i'd like nothing better than to bury my face in his neck and kiss him all over. i literally melt when i'm with him. i thought i must be the only one who felt that way until i kissed him and he just dissolved. so i guess i drive him just as crazy as he does me. although he's probably able to sleep right now while i'm stuck awake and giddy like this. well, i had insomnia issues before this too, so that might have something to do with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;there was one point yesterday when we were at school and he was working. He was watching me from a few yards away behind the counter, when i had this impulse to look up at him. i saw him watching me and i broke out into this goofy smile, and he winked at me. it was so cute. oh geez, i am head over heels for this guy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i'm so happy he's a nice mormon boy. not only because he has the priesthood and we have a lot more in common because of the church, but also because it makes it so much easier for me not to cross the line. i have a really bad history of letting guys push me over that stupid line, and now it's great because i know mykle would never do that. he's such a good person. i love when he lets me sit there and cover his face with kisses. i love making him melt the way he does to me so easily. i loved when he pulled my hair out of it's ponytail to play with it, that was so cute. i love when i feel his warm breath in my ear, or listening to the way his voice echoes when i rest my head on his chest as he talks. i love how he'll just say exactly what he's thinking without worrying if it's embarrassing or not, like when he told me on our first date why he asked me out, or when he said he's always had a thing for girls with short hair. i love his boy-scent, and how when i get close enough to smell him i just want to die. i'm glad he wasn't afraid to cuddle with me in front of his family. i like his family. his dad is hilarious! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i love when he catches me completely off-guard. the other night, i was in the middle of explaining something when he just interrupted me and said "your hair is pretty," and i almost dropped the pot i was holding. i forgot everything i was saying and just stared at him. he thought that was funny. or like when we were at his house and i was talking and he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. i couldn't remember anything i'd been saying and just kind of sighed and leaned my head against his chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;oh my gosh, i sound so mushy talking about all this! i must be crazy about this guy if he's able to make me get all cheesy like this! he has this way of saying things sometimes that makes me want to fall over myself kissing him. crap, i'm doing it again! what is WRONG with me?? when did i decide to up and give my heart away? i cannot even believe i just wrote that last sentence, it is so corny. wow, i need to just stop typing before i completely humiliate myself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-4148292110470809892?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/4148292110470809892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=4148292110470809892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4148292110470809892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4148292110470809892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/02/myklemyklemyklemyklemyklemykle.html' title='myklemyklemyklemyklemyklemykle'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-2319800264768907465</id><published>2008-01-31T23:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T23:45:15.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm in love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6LOBTkK5AI/AAAAAAAAAFs/X1QFNanHsVw/s1600-h/The-National-Ballet-of-Cuba-2001-Print-C10093825.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6LOBTkK5AI/AAAAAAAAAFs/X1QFNanHsVw/s400/The-National-Ballet-of-Cuba-2001-Print-C10093825.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161914644747183106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-2319800264768907465?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/2319800264768907465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=2319800264768907465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2319800264768907465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2319800264768907465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-in-love.html' title='i&apos;m in love!'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6LOBTkK5AI/AAAAAAAAAFs/X1QFNanHsVw/s72-c/The-National-Ballet-of-Cuba-2001-Print-C10093825.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-4468195701083574372</id><published>2008-01-31T09:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T09:16:25.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBiTkK48I/AAAAAAAAAFM/n-zzEM5K7QM/s1600-h/sc0054c370.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBiTkK48I/AAAAAAAAAFM/n-zzEM5K7QM/s400/sc0054c370.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161689811799172034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBijkK49I/AAAAAAAAAFU/94bQ0_vq05Y/s1600-h/sc0054e04c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBijkK49I/AAAAAAAAAFU/94bQ0_vq05Y/s400/sc0054e04c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161689816094139346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBjTkK4-I/AAAAAAAAAFc/03fbwZEODIk/s1600-h/sc0054fae5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBjTkK4-I/AAAAAAAAAFc/03fbwZEODIk/s400/sc0054fae5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161689828979041250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBjzkK4_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/aZu39nhP2T4/s1600-h/sc00551596.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBjzkK4_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/aZu39nhP2T4/s400/sc00551596.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161689837568975858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;so i have been corrected. it seems i was in error when i wrote "baluga whale" in one of my comics strips; the proper term was "sperm whale." thank you joe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  the coolest thing happened to me last night while. i fell asleep on my bean bag chair, and i started having this really strange sensation, like my spirit was floating away from my body. it was like my body was no longer capable of containing it, so the particles just sort of drifted off into the sky and away into this imaginary universe. i knew i was dreaming, but i mistook it to be real at first. usually when i dream, it is like watching a cartoon version of myself. this time, however, i was inside this ghostly body looking out through the eye sockets like i do all day in real life. after a few minutes, i realized the most amazing thing; i could control everything that was happening. characters would come into my dream, but i could make them come or go, do what i wanted them to do and say what i wanted them to say. all i had to do was wish it and they'd do exactly what i was thinking. i could make the plot anything i wanted, design new people to meet and talk with, and start and stop the scenes as i liked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  the best part was that i could still FEEL; even though it wasn't my real body, when a person came and took my hand, i'd feel their touch. it didn't feel real exactly. it felt cool, like air, but substantial at the same time. even thought it was very very light, it still had some weight to it. i could feel other people's heartbeat just from touching their hand. at one point, i bit someone who i wanted to leave the dream, and i felt the cold on my teeth; my teeth had nerves in them!! weird, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; another interesting thing about it was the background music. i didn't even notice it for a long time, until the song changed suddenly to something sort of familiar. it was electronica, like techno music, with a beat that matched my pulse. i think i was the only one who could hear it, after i started listening to it. it was like having a soundtrack to everything i was doing, one song that never stops going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; usually, i forget my dreams as soon as i open my eyes. but this one stayed with me, which made it more real than ever. it felt like it really happened for a few minutes. i wonder if there is something magical about my beanbag chair, or what. speaking of which, i need a name for my beanbag chair. any suggestions? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:14px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-4468195701083574372?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/4468195701083574372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=4468195701083574372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4468195701083574372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4468195701083574372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/dreams.html' title='dreams'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R6IBiTkK48I/AAAAAAAAAFM/n-zzEM5K7QM/s72-c/sc0054c370.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-3489624428884927174</id><published>2008-01-28T16:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T18:07:56.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>comics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R553xzkK40I/AAAAAAAAAD8/-q3FTMZ0a-M/s1600-h/sc001337e1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R553xzkK40I/AAAAAAAAAD8/-q3FTMZ0a-M/s400/sc001337e1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160693920552379202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R553yzkK41I/AAAAAAAAAEE/FPYSHe2Rlmk/s1600-h/sc00135446.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R553yzkK41I/AAAAAAAAAEE/FPYSHe2Rlmk/s400/sc00135446.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160693937732248402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-3489624428884927174?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/3489624428884927174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=3489624428884927174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3489624428884927174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3489624428884927174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/comics.html' title='comics'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R553xzkK40I/AAAAAAAAAD8/-q3FTMZ0a-M/s72-c/sc001337e1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-4087113511319224526</id><published>2008-01-27T21:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T21:54:36.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'>date with mike2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i went out with mike again. i called him yesterday and asked him if he wanted to come to our saturday sibling dinner. he said he was already eating dinner, but asked me if i wanted to go out dancing with him later that night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  we went to a high school in pleasant grove. there were about a hundred people there, some young, some old. most of them were wearing some sort of country dress, like boots and jeans and maybe a cowboy hat. i had never done country dancing before, but it wasn't that hard to learn. i was probably just lucky because dude is a freaking awesome leader, and made following incredibly easy for me. i was surprised what a great dancer he was! i told him he was great, then said something along the lines of "uh oh, i shouldn't have said that; it'll only make your oversized ego even bigger!" he laughed and agreed. he's extremely confident and carries himself very well, so it really is true that i have to be careful with compliments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; he showed me how to do all these twisting-turning moves to the fast songs, and then tried waltz and two-step to a few of the slow songs. i'm telling you, this guy is not a deacon-shuffle type of guy. he dances for real, and since he leads so well i almost feel like i know how to dance too! it had been over a year since i'd gone out dancing, and before that i hadn't done anything for about seven months. it felt good to get out there again! i refused to do the line dances, though, because it was too embarrassing. i told him i wouldn't line dance unless i knew every single person out there on the floor, and he thought that was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; we got tired after awhile, so we went to borders for some hot chocolate. unfortunately, borders had just closed, so instead we stopped at macey's and bought some hot chocolate and went to my house and made it ourselves. the only thing about mike that i don't like is that he talks a lot and doesn't listen enough. he'll talk about random things, too, like cars or a specific kind of guitar, and explain every little detail to me, even after i told him i don't know anything about cars. i think he took that to mean that i want to learn, or something. the first few times i just listened, but after awhile i started interrupting him, saying "oh no, not cars AGAIN!" in kind of a joking way to let him know to shut up without being too rude. now that i think about it, he reminds me of joe a LOT. not just because he likes explaining the most random things, but also his quirky sense of humor. his confidence reminds me of elliot. that's a little creepy. i'm not sure whether elliot amuses me, annoys me, infuriates me or disgusts me. but that's something else entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; tonight i went to game night at greg's house. they have it every sunday night, apparently. it was my first time going. i don't know what was the matter with greg, but he hid in his room the entire time! i still had a great time though; his roommate, dan, and esther, dan's fiancee, are absolutely hilarious! it was the girls against the boys, and we kicked their trash. whatever team i'm on ALWAYS wins. it doesn't matter what game we're playing or who's participating; i ALWAYS win. ALWAYS. the only game i ever lose is shanghai. dot kicked our trash with that over christmas break. i am very competitive, especially in word-games like scattergories and scrabble and catchphrase and boggle, and i make it a point to win every time. i'm also good at card games, though not as good as dot, apparently. i'm good at shuffling cards, too. i think my skills at board games and cards are largely due to all the time i spent in treatment. that's where i learned to do the bridge. i also put in a lot of time doing puzzles. i would get furious with anyone if they tried to help me with a puzzle i was working on. i need to learn to be more relaxed and easy-going when it comes to these types of things. that's probably what i like best about mike; he's just so laid-back about everything. it really helps to calm me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; he's funny. somehow we got on the subject of hair (random, i know), and i told him his hair was the perfect length. (it is; he has the most FABULOUS hair i've ever seen on a guy, that i remember.) he said i should be careful about complimenting him on his hair because i'll make him fall head over heels for me. i'll wait and see if he is able to be a better listener, and then maybe i'll compliment his hair again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-4087113511319224526?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/4087113511319224526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=4087113511319224526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4087113511319224526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4087113511319224526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/date-with-mike2.html' title='date with mike2'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-6872913072359343232</id><published>2008-01-25T22:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T22:48:17.774-08:00</updated><title type='text'>more doodles and comics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXYjkK4uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ObQviY_IRCg/s1600-h/sc00696cc0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXYjkK4uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ObQviY_IRCg/s400/sc00696cc0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159673139970106082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXYzkK4vI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3XYAV4hB4lc/s1600-h/sc00696cc001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXYzkK4vI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3XYAV4hB4lc/s400/sc00696cc001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159673144265073394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXHTkK4pI/AAAAAAAAACM/LvqbuJCV3RM/s1600-h/sc0068c43e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXHTkK4pI/AAAAAAAAACM/LvqbuJCV3RM/s400/sc0068c43e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159672843617362578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXHjkK4qI/AAAAAAAAACU/59qCA_xPNak/s1600-h/sc0068d97e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXHjkK4qI/AAAAAAAAACU/59qCA_xPNak/s400/sc0068d97e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159672847912329890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXIDkK4rI/AAAAAAAAACc/FOkMhI38TIo/s1600-h/sc0068f664.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXIDkK4rI/AAAAAAAAACc/FOkMhI38TIo/s400/sc0068f664.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159672856502264498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXITkK4sI/AAAAAAAAACk/VWnpDdFn24M/s1600-h/sc00690e33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXITkK4sI/AAAAAAAAACk/VWnpDdFn24M/s400/sc00690e33.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159672860797231810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXIjkK4tI/AAAAAAAAACs/IVixk6sMn8Y/s1600-h/sc006939cc01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXIjkK4tI/AAAAAAAAACs/IVixk6sMn8Y/s400/sc006939cc01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159672865092199122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-6872913072359343232?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/6872913072359343232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=6872913072359343232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6872913072359343232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6872913072359343232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/more-doodles-and-comics.html' title='more doodles and comics'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5rXYjkK4uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ObQviY_IRCg/s72-c/sc00696cc0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-6794200786575473201</id><published>2008-01-25T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T22:02:53.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>date with mike</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i just got back from the best date EVER! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  so much better than the one with painter dude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; me, mike (my date), and his two friends ben and eric all drove up the canyon and had a fire and smores in the middle of the snow. it was so much fun! not because we were outdoors or because i got to demonstrate my skills with fire, or because we had smores with reeses cups (my idea), though all of those things were great. it was fun because these guys are simply HILARIOUS! they're all kind of nerdy, but then again so am i, and it was really easy to talk to them. there wasn't any awkwardness, it was just like we had always been friends or something!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; and mike and eric are so funny together! one is a democrat and one is republican, and they fight about EVERYTHING, but it's funny fake-arguing, which just makes me laugh! ben is quieter, more of a peacemaker. he made the most awesome roasted marshmallow reeses peanut butter cup sandwich EVER! he balances out the other two, and he's a better planner. like, it was his idea to bring aluminum foil to make the fire on since we were building it on top of the snow. the other two never would have bothered, and then we would have wound up without a fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; and my date was so cute! he wouldn't let me get out of the car before he came around the side and opened the door for me! he told me he asked me out because he noticed that when he talks with me, he is funny and can make me laugh (very true, though it's also true that i laugh at pretty much anything), and he likes hanging out with people who laugh at his jokes. i'm a nice person to have around in that way, i guess. unless you have sensitive ears, because my laugh is very loud and jolting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; i say it was better than my date with painter dude because i had more fun, and i like the guy better, and there were other people there to break the ice and take away the tension, and he didn't kiss me at the end and make me feel bad, like i was committing to something i'm not ready to commit to. all three of the guys i was hanging out with are return missionaries, and even though i have nothing against nonmembers or inactive members, i think there's something about worthy church members and good clean fun that makes me feel comfortable and more able to relax and be myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; it was so much fun, and i really hope he asks me out again! i told him he should; hopefully that's a big enough hint! you never know with guys, though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; now i'm anxious about seeing painter dude this saturday. he's nice but i know things with him won't go anywhere. he's incredibly hot but there just aren't any sparks for me. i wish i hadn't kissed him. regret... oh well. live and learn i guess. i'm glad i didn't kiss mike, even if part of me wanted to. i hate feeling committed to something i don't feel ready for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-6794200786575473201?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/6794200786575473201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=6794200786575473201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6794200786575473201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6794200786575473201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/date-with-mike.html' title='date with mike'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-3699847938552780283</id><published>2008-01-21T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T20:20:28.964-08:00</updated><title type='text'>narcoleptic?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Narcolepsy is a neurological condition most characterized by Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS). A narcoleptic will most likely experience disturbed nocturnal sleep, which is often confused with insomnia, and disorder of REM or rapid eye movement sleep. It is one of the dyssomnias. A narcoleptic may also sleep at any random time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  The main characteristic of narcolepsy is excessive daytime sleepiness (EDS), even after adequate night time sleep. A person with narcolepsy is likely to become drowsy or to fall asleep, often at inappropriate times and places. Daytime naps may occur without warning and may be physically irresistible. These naps can occur several times a day. They are typically refreshing, but only for a few hours. Drowsiness may persist for prolonged periods of time. In addition, night-time sleep may be fragmented with frequent awakenings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; In most cases, the first symptom of narcolepsy to appear is excessive and overwhelming daytime sleepiness. The other symptoms may begin alone or in combination months or years after the onset of the daytime naps. There are wide variations in the development, severity, and order of appearance of cataplexy, sleep paralysis, and hypnagogic hallucinations in individuals. Only about 20 to 25 percent of people with narcolepsy experience all four symptoms. The excessive daytime sleepiness generally persists throughout life, but sleep paralysis and hypnagogic hallucinations may not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Although these are the common symptoms of narcolepsy, many (although less than 40% of people with narcolepsy) also suffer from insomnia for extended periods of time. This is most often from an excess of sleep and/or use of self-medications such as energy drinks, or caffeinated drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The symptoms of narcolepsy, especially the excessive daytime sleepiness and cataplexy, often become severe enough to cause serious problems in a person's social, personal, and professional life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;To imagine what a person with narcolepsy copes with daily, keep in mind that while many are not sleep-deprived (in the classical sense), a major symptom of narcolepsy is akin to sleep deprivation in a normal person; as a normal person, imagine going years functioning off just 3-4 hours of sleep per night. While lifestyle changes and drug therapy can help largely mitigate many symptoms of narcolepsy, there currently exists no complete and permanent solution, therefore patience, empathy and self-education are excellent coping tools.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Individuals with narcolepsy, their families, friends, and potential employers should know that: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Narcolepsy is a life-long condition that may require continuous medication. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Although there is no cure for narcolepsy at present, several medications can help reduce its symptoms. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-People with narcolepsy can lead productive lives with proper medical care and lifestyle changes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-A major physiological and physical effect of narcolepsy is roughly akin to the effects of sleep deprivation; such effects can often be controlled and minimized through a combination of lifestyle changes and drug therapy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Individuals with narcolepsy should avoid jobs that require driving long distances or handling hazardous equipment or that require alertness for lengthy periods (especially where the consequences of falling asleep are dangerous to themselves or others). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Parents, teachers, spouses, and employers should be aware of the symptoms of narcolepsy. This will help them avoid the mistake of confusing the person's behavior with laziness, hostility, rejection, or lack of interest and motivation. It will also help them provide essential support and cooperation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Employers can promote better working opportunities for individuals with narcolepsy by permitting special work schedules and nap breaks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Doctors generally agree that lifestyle changes can be very helpful to those suffering with narcolepsy. Suggested self-care tips, from the National Sleep Foundation, University at Buffalo, and Mayo Clinic, include: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Take several short daily naps (10-15 minutes) to combat excessive sleepiness and sleep attacks. -Develop a routine sleep schedule &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;– try to go to sleep and awaken at the same time every day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Alert your employers, co-workers and friends in the hope that others will accommodate your condition and help when needed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Do not drive or operate dangerous equipment if you are sleepy. Take a nap before driving if possible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Consider taking a break for a nap during a long driving trip. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Join a support group. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Break up larger tasks into small pieces and focusing on one small thing at a time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Take several short walks during the day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;-Carry a tape recorder, if possible, to record important conversations and meetings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  ....i think i must have this. greg thinks i just have low iron. that is also a possibility. whatever my problem is, though, it is very real. i slept ten hours saturday night and had to leave church because i could not stay awake. i came home and slept for five hours. then, last night, i slept from 2am until 5:30pm, i am not even kidding. i am going to go to the drugstore and get something to treat it until i can see a doctor about it. i'll get pills for iron deficiency, probably, as well as codeine (they said that is supposed to help) and possibly caffeine pills. i need to stay awake during the day; this is very dangerous for my recovery. being up all night is depressing because i never get to talk to anyone, except greg because he works all night. but he's usually busy working. i haven't been getting out as much recently, either, and this could be very damaging to my schoolwork and job (if i ever get a job). just last week i had to cancel two appointments because of it, and i still had to pay for half the price. it is an expensive problem! and i'm telling you, there are very few things that are more painful than trying to stay awake and knowing it's very important that you do, but not being able to. especially when you're in church clothes and you don't have a car or anywhere to go. it's awful. it'd probably be even worse if i had a car- imagine trying to drive with this problem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;i need to go get this fixed. until then, i shall consult my local drugstore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;greg is so nice. he takes me everywhere i need to go. just tonight he took me to go get bread and milk and soda at the grocery store (i was nice too, because i let him borrow some money to buy milk and butter for himself), and when i asked him if he'd take me to go get some codeine, he said sure. he also takes me to the gym almost every day. it's a good arrangement; he drives me to the gym, and i get on his case to take me to the gym so he doesn't sit around doing nothing all day. if you ask me, i have the harder job. sometimes i am just not motivated. tonight i was motivated to go, but FHE was too long and i missed my ride. how upsetting. oh well. not much i can do about it now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-3699847938552780283?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/3699847938552780283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=3699847938552780283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3699847938552780283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3699847938552780283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/narcoleptic.html' title='narcoleptic?'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-2903598205627201756</id><published>2008-01-19T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T19:15:34.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5K8xV5UyrI/AAAAAAAAACE/7Zxem0L5Yf4/s1600-h/Photo+23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5K8xV5UyrI/AAAAAAAAACE/7Zxem0L5Yf4/s400/Photo+23.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157392079169833650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;greg says i look better without glasses. is that true? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-2903598205627201756?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/2903598205627201756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=2903598205627201756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2903598205627201756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2903598205627201756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/greg-says-i-look-better-without-glasses.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5K8xV5UyrI/AAAAAAAAACE/7Zxem0L5Yf4/s72-c/Photo+23.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-4320244962192456888</id><published>2008-01-18T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:50:32.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>doodles</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;these are some drawings i did in sociology and psychology. i was taking notes but they didn't say anything important enough to write down except for the few lines i copied. i should give up on being a therapist and go back to byu to major in animation. it's funner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5GBal5UypI/AAAAAAAAAB0/7vVr10196GM/s1600-h/sc00463a44.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5GBal5UypI/AAAAAAAAAB0/7vVr10196GM/s400/sc00463a44.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157045342165060242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5GBbF5UyqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/p6xAqYbGrFk/s1600-h/sc0046173b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5GBbF5UyqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/p6xAqYbGrFk/s400/sc0046173b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157045350754994850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-4320244962192456888?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/4320244962192456888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=4320244962192456888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4320244962192456888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4320244962192456888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/doodles.html' title='doodles'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R5GBal5UypI/AAAAAAAAAB0/7vVr10196GM/s72-c/sc00463a44.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-8653919152475112773</id><published>2008-01-17T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T19:46:37.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my date with painter dude</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;oh wow.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;so i just barely got back from my date with painter dude. i am supposed to be working on homework or job applications but i cannot concentrate.  i could probably go ahead and do a sociological analysis of the date, the way professor england likes us to, but i am not really in the mood for that. instead, i'll just give the high points and low points of the date.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: talking without awkward silences &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;low point: when he didn't come and open my door when he first got here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: making me laugh by getting excited to see that they had smoothies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;low point: following me inside instead of leading the way in (i get self-conscious that people are looking at my butt) (i know it's just me being paranoid but still) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: just being casual and relaxed, so i didn't have to feel anxious &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: sharing his pizza with me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;low point: when his phone rang and he took the call at the table &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;low point: having a hard time with the food (restaurants are always hard) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: pulling through anyways and eating intuitively because i'm AWESOME &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: when he opened the car door for me as we were leaving &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: thanking me for paying (i told him i'd pay to thank him for driving me to the airport, but it was still nice of him to thank me) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: telling me i'm pretty (i am a sucker for that. maybe it's because i want to believe it so badly.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: walking me to my door &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: asking me out again this saturday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;high point: getting a kiss goodnight  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;all in all, a good date i think. maybe i can turn my dating history around and have less disasters, now that i know what it's like not to have things go completely wrong.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;my mom would love this guy, because he is so laid-back and relaxed, and very nice and polite and not sarcastic, and he tucked in his shirt. (except the phone thing wasn't very polite, but i think guys are just dumb sometimes) pop would like him because he's like a cowboy bull rider guy, and he'd probably slip into a southern accent talking to him. But he wouldn't like the fact that he isn't in college and doesn't plan to go and wouldn't be very excited about doing math problems with him. Kate would think he's okay. Dot would think he's incredibly hot and nod her approval at his cowboy boots, maybe asking if he has a brother or a friend she could hook up with. Joe is in his own little universe.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;i like him. he's not my one true love (if i even have one) and i'd never marry him, but it's not like i'm in some sort of hurry. i like how he is able to calm me down by being casual, and i like that he's an optimist. sometimes a lack of sarcasm can be like a breath of fresh air. and, he's flat out gorgeous. he's a taurus, which is supposed to be my perfect match. (completely irrelevant yet slightly interesting) i want to see him ride a bull.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-8653919152475112773?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/8653919152475112773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=8653919152475112773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/8653919152475112773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/8653919152475112773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-date-with-painter-dude.html' title='my date with painter dude'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-4476342034343423027</id><published>2008-01-16T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T22:57:25.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I'm so sad right now, and I don't know why. I hate it when the depression hits me like this; it's like someone creeps up behind you and slams a frying pan into the back of your head. In one fell swoop all your motivation, all your cheerfulness and confidence and contentment is drained out of you, replaced by this horribly uncomfortable feeling of sadness that sucks away all your will power and energy. It's a lonely sort of sadness, lonely and helpless and hopeless and forgotten, lost and abandoned and betrayed by everyone. and suddenly no one loves you, no one knows you or cares about you or even notices or thinks about you. your parents love you, but they don't count because they're your parents. your siblings love you but they have their own troubles to worry about. your friends all hate you because you're just an annoying, needy head-case who is destined to fail at anything they try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;it's surreal, too. because i know this feeling enveloping me is just plastic, and if i had the right tools i could chop it up easily. but i don't have anything and it has me trapped where i can't move or breathe or blink. all i can do is think about how miserable i am and how i have no one and never will, and i how i don't deserve happiness anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;the loneliness is the worst part, but the self-hatred is a close second. i am ugly, i am grotesque, i am loathsome and stupid and pathetic and i could have been something spectacular, i could have been great, but i ruined it, i ruined everything, i always ruin everything. i am a dirty, repulsive, whining, clingy, disgusting whore and i deserve to be treated like one. it is my own fault for making myself this way, and the regret tears into me like a knife cutting into dry ice, only the ice isn't screaming, i'm screaming, i'm screaming and writhing and no one will help me, they just look at me, revolted, and walk away. they could save me if they wanted to but no one wants to and no one ever will because i am not worth saving. i am not worth the space i take up on this planet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;so, yeah. i'm depressed. hopefully my readers enjoyed my poetic description of what it's like to feel like shit. as to what i'm going to do about it, well, what CAN i do about it? whenever i go to a friend with my problems, they are disgusted and run away like i have some sort of highly contagious disease, and spending time with me might get them infected. and i seriously don't have any friends to talk to anyway; they are all in other states. that's what happens when everyone you know is from treatment centers. i could drown my sorrows in something healthy like exercise or art or meditation, but those things take too much effort; i can hardly summon the energy to type this. i could channel my distress into an unhealthy coping mechanism, like food or burning or cutting (tempting), but i have lost the energy it takes to go down that path either. i am too worn out to relapse; having an eating disorder is a hell of a lot of work, and besides, i am aware of the benefits which are few and far between, especially when compared with the costs. no, i won't binge and purge tonight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;so what else can i do? what other options do i have? i could read but i don't have the concentration. i could play piano but i just finished doing that. i could look at dirty web sites but that is revolting and i'd rather slice my arms open. i could watch tv but i don't have one. i could clean my room but i just finished with that. i want to write my story, but i'm afraid it will just make me more sad. i'm on the part where i met john for the first time. for those of you who don't know, john was one of the chief instructors in the wilderness program i was at when i was 17. he and mark, the other CI, were both my heroes. they helped save my life. then they both let me down. it was my own fault, too. it was that gross, inexplicable quality about me that makes people want to run- i am not making this up, there is seriously something about me that repulses people when they get to know me too well. they came too close, saw whatever it was in me, turned around and ran as fast as they could to get away from me. the words ryan said to me that day out in the summer range are seared into my brain, i can't escape from them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"There's a reason you weren't told he was in town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"THERE'S A REASON YOU WEREN'T TOLD HE WAS IN TOWN."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;and i hate myself even more, until i wish i could rip my soul into tiny shreds and burn them and bury the ashes ten miles underground so no one would find them and be plagued by my presence ever again. and i know i can't trust ANYONE, because no matter how well-meaning they are, i know they'll run when they see it. no one stays. the only people who stay are tied to me by blood. they've seen me grow up and i've seen them grow up and i guess that makes us friends forever. but what good is a family when you're alone and destroyed, and the world exists to let you down? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;no, i can't write my story when i'm like this. i'd probably get all sad and sentimental and regretful about john and end up rereading it later and sounding like a retard and erasing it all because it's complete trash. john, you let me down. i know i disgust you and annoy you and you don't want to be bothered by me so much that you won't even add me as a friend on facebook and refuse my invitation when i send it. you come into town and apparently "there's a reason why i was not informed." reason being, you dislike me and think i am a clingy, needy, whiny kid who has a crush on you. but maybe it wasn't that i was whiny and needy and had a crush. maybe it was that you helped me remember why i chose to live, why i wanted to live, why all the pain was worth it. YOU gave that back to me, YOU helped me trust people again, and i believed you when you promised to write me back, that i could talk to you anytime and you wouldn't care, that i was wrong when i worried that you'd forget me. Maybe you were just my goddamn fucking hero, the first hero i'd ever had, and i'm sorry because obviously you can't handle being someone's hero. you do your job but you can't deal with the responsibility because you made fucking sure i wouldn't look to you as a mentor as soon as you noticed it happening. you took great pains to insure that you wouldn't be my hero anymore. well congratulations, john, you're not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i am so mad right now. anger gives me more energy than depression. i was all set to sleep my sadness away, but now i am angry as hell. i want to kick someone in the nads, but i guess i'll have to settle for cleaning my room again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;by the way, if anyone was disturbed at all by this entry, don't worry. it'll all evaporate in the morning when i take my effexor. goodnight---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-4476342034343423027?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/4476342034343423027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=4476342034343423027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4476342034343423027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/4476342034343423027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/sad.html' title='sad'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-6330012287952639692</id><published>2008-01-15T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:35:41.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>how to make a friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"CANCER (June 21-July 22): "Dear Rob: Help! When I give love I feel powerful but when I accept love I feel weak. So even though I dearly crave love, when someone tries to give it to me I run away. I'm afraid of the vulnerability that comes from being the recipient of the gift; I'm afraid of being in debt to the person who's offering it; I'm afraid of the loss of control that comes from not providing myself with everything I need; and I'm afraid that if I accept love, I'll get addicted to it, and then how will I cope if it goes away? What can I do? -Cowardly Crab." Dear Crab: In the coming weeks, the universe will conspire to help you find new ways to think about these riddles. You'll have tremendous access to the precise kind of courage you need."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;That's an interesting horoscope. Then again, Rob Brezny always has something witty to say.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i was lonely today, but i tried something new. instead of sleeping, like i usually do, i went to the gym with greg and katie. the hardest part was giving up my nap and the prospect of isolating and wallowing, and making the decision to get my butt on an exercise machine instead. when i said i was too depressed to exercise, greg made a good point that exercise releases endorphins. i couldn't very well argue with that, so i went. it wasn't bad at all, and made me feel good that i'm not just wasting my gym membership.   the other reason i decided to give in and go to the gym was because i didn't want greg to be right. the other day we were fighting and i called him self-absorbed because he is always feeling sorry for himself, and he told me it is my own fault that i'm lonely and depressed because every time he invites me to go somewhere and do something where i'd get to meet new people, i always say no. he said i'd be less depressed if i'd actually spend time with people once in awhile. so when he asked me to go to the gym, i couldn't very well turn him down, right? then he'd win!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;it's just hard to meet people and make friends in college. in high school you have the same set of people in pretty much all your classes for all four years, so it's easy to get to know people. (even if everyone is mean and cliquey and you're a social outcast and no one sits with you at lunch or talks to you in the locker room and you have no friends whatsoever. but that's purely situational and has nothing to do with what i'm talking about.) college is just too big; you can have five different classes and not a single person who's in more than one of them with you. unless you live on campus, there really aren't that many opportunities to meet people. i suppose i could join a club, but there's nothing i'm interested in or good at which has been made into a club. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i have tried what john from wilderness quest told me to do to make new friends: every time i'm in class, i turn to the person sitting next to me, stick out my hand and say "hi, i'm sarah, what's your name?" but john forgot to tell me what the next step is. because all i have accomplished with the "hi, i'm sarah" technique is learning the names of about ten people. knowing names doesn't get me invitations to parties or dates or study groups. maybe it just takes some time. that sucks. i HATE things that take time. i HATE waiting.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i tried a new technique of making friends the other day, and it seems to have worked better than anything else i've tried. but i am pretty sure it is not a very repeatable method. i went to the taco place they have on campus, and just started talking to the guy who works there. mostly i was teasing him for taking such a long time with my order. (he is seriously the slowest taco-maker of all time! it took him literally five minutes to make two tacos, maybe longer!!) i don't think that's generally a good way to make friends, seeing as how it might upset the people waiting in line behind me. (i am not the only person who has a hard time waiting) it didn't matter this time since there was no line at all.   i was sure he'd just forget about me since he sees so many customers, but i came back like two weeks later and he remembered me and asked me my name. so now i have a friend at the taco stand. but that's pretty much it. i think i might be able to make a few friends in my english class soon- she sometimes has us work in small groups, which is conducive to meeting people. i am scared of girls, though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;the only girl friends i have are from treatment, and that's only because they were the only people available to me and i had no choice. believe me, if i'd had a choice, i would never have made friends with those girls. don't get me wrong, girlfriends are GREAT; in fact, i'd go so far as to say that one solid girlfriend is worth three or four guy friends. they are loyal, stick by you, sensitive, understanding, and sympathize with you in ways guys never could. but it is so HARD to make friends with a girl. the only practice i have is from treatment, where everything is already out on the table and you have no secrets. getting a girl to take down her walls and open up to you in the real world is virtually impossible for me to figure out how to do. i should get a self-help book or something.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;just when i finished the first book in a totally exciting series, kate left town. she had the second book, and i couldn't get it from her and start reading it until she got back. how excruciating! fortunately, she drove me home tonight and was thoughtful enough to listen to my pleading messages on her answering machine and bring the book with her to lend me. i am so excited to start reading it! the series is "Uglies," and the second book that i'm reading now is called "Pretties." it's about a world in the future where everyone, once they turn sixteen, gets to turn pretty. so in a world where everyone is pretty, normal people are considered ugly. but there's this girl and she's not sure if she wants to be turned pretty, so she runs away with her friend, and it's about where they go and what happens to them. i definitely recommend it. the plot makes up for an occasional lack of elegance in the writing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i am also reading one flew over the cuckoo's nest. i've read the first half before, but never finished it. it's good. reminds me of klarman. a LOT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-6330012287952639692?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/6330012287952639692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=6330012287952639692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6330012287952639692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/6330012287952639692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/how-to-make-friend.html' title='how to make a friend'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-2455673216048731549</id><published>2008-01-12T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:36:00.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>feeling shitty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;why does recovery have to be so hard? i can be doing fine for weeks at a time and then BAM! all of a sudden something hits me, like depression or loneliness or fatalism or cravings or bad body image. it's like being in the hospital for months at a time, unable to get out of bed, and then as soon as you're walking out the door all happy and healed, you slip on a patch of ice and are flat on your back once again. with no warning at all, either. it sucks, because how am i going to know whether or not i'm ready to go back to wilderness if these episodes are so unpredictable? and if i don't go back to wilderness, i'll DIE inside! even worse would be if i made it back to wilderness only to relapse again and redo everything i did before. that would be like the most painful kind of death imaginable. maybe crucifixion. i don't want to crucify myself. i want to be healthy and nomadic and live like a hippie. sarah the happy hippie. not sarah the pathetic, twisted, deranged, repulsive bulimic. i want to be finished with that sarah. so why does she keep showing up? it bothers me how that happens. more than bothers. it scares me. i wish my recovery was 100% already. why does it have to take an average of 7 years? i'm only at the beginning of year 4, and i don't know if i can deal with another three years of the same old bullshit. i'd better not relapse again. i'd better not relapse because i am DONE with treatment, so if i go down again it'll be for good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-2455673216048731549?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/2455673216048731549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=2455673216048731549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2455673216048731549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/2455673216048731549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/feeling-shitty.html' title='feeling shitty'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-1450005760330835412</id><published>2008-01-11T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:36:17.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>augh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i am sooooo excited about wilderness quest...!!! i KNOW i should spend less time daydreaming about the future and more time studying and doing homework, but i can't HELP it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i plan on downloading an application and mailing it in at the beginning/middle of June, when i get my one-year-in-recovery. (!!!) i'll call troy a week or two later, asking what he thinks and when i could possibly come in for training. they generally have training the first or second week of every month, so who knows? maybe i'll be in monticello on my birthday! i'll start working for wq after taking a week off- driving back to provo, settling any business stuff i have here, etc, then either getting a ride or taking the bus down to monticello on tuesday to make it there in time for the next day. they have a staff house that i can stay at whenever i need to, so lodging won't be a problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;after i get a few weeks of money saved up, and before my contract runs out at the end of august, i plan on buying a car. (hopefully a small truck with good gas mileage, if there is such a thing) i'll spend my weeks off back in provo, seeing my therapist and dietician, going to meetings, hanging out with my siblings, maybe working a side job or doing art projects, going to church/institute/FHE, and trying to get rid of as much "stuff" as possible. (like the dresser i just bought, and all the clothes and shoes i don't need, etc) maybe dot will be out here by then and i can help her out by lending her some things- like, she could borrow my scentsy warmer or exercise ball, which wouldn't make sense to have in a car. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;when my contract is up at the end of august, i will officially begin life as a nomad; when i work i'll be traveling everyday, and when i'm off i'll be living out of my car...!!! i can shower at the staff house before i leave and when i get back into town, and maybe kate or dot would let me use their shower. if worse comes to worse, i'll shower at the rec center (it's like a YMCA), or at aunt mary's house if she lets me, or (and this would be really sneaky) in the showers in hinckley hall. they leave the doors wide open, anyone can use them! haha, that would be HILARIOUS if it came to that! "pardon me while i borrow your showers, ladies!" hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;the reason i want to have a truck instead of some other type of car is so that i can put a mattress in the back and sleep under the stars. of course, if i were parked in a non-deserted area, i'd probably want to sleep inside the car. it'd be perfect to live out of my car because i could go wherever i wanted on my weeks off and not have to pay for bus fare or train fare, or worry about walking. if i didn't have a truck, i'd at least need a bike rack; my bike, charlotte, is my darling. she got me EVERYWHERE when i was in CA. even when i get a car, i'll still need her to get around, and just to have fun. bikes can go places that cars can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i wouldn't have to pay rent to anyone and i'd be entirely self-sufficient! i could go on trips and explore different places- if someone randomly invited me to visit them in CO, i could just GO! i could visit friends without having to worry about inconveniencing them by staying at their house. i could go to whatever ward i wanted to. (my ward here is kind of ehn) i could even make a trip to long beach to visit everyone down there! if i wanted to visit my parents on my week off (which i could do because i'd have money to buy myself a ticket!) i could park at the airport and fly home, then come back and have it there, ready to drive back to monticello. i'd get tons of driving hours in (i need more practice; i NEVER get a chance to drive now) and i could listen to music and books on tape! i'd have everything in my car set up like a little home, with a place to store books and somewhere else to store clean clothes and a bag for dirty clothes, and my little store of food... i'd have to get a car that doesn't break down all the time, because i'd be really dependent on it, but if it did break down i'd have money to fix it and friends all over the place to give me a hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i'd have my laptop and could go to any internet cafe if i needed to go online. (i also have a router, which they desperately need at wq- or at least they needed it when i was there last time.) i might even think about getting a dog! okay, now you KNOW i'm dreaming...!!! (but i really do want a dog! i'd get an older one that's already trained from craigslist or a shelter somewhere, that the family can't keep because they're moving. he could stay with me all the time, even when i go out to the wilderness to work, and the kids would love him! aww...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i am so excited. i'm telling you, i have everything all planned out. i'd get a utah driver's license and become a resident so that whenever i decide to go back to school, i'll have super-cheap tuition. i can go to school every january and go back to work at wq every june-december. not until i graduate, just until i decide it's time to really get on top of my schooling. that could be in a year or two. i could even do online classes while i work at wq, doing the work on my off weeks and getting credits that way. this could totally work, i am telling you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-1450005760330835412?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/1450005760330835412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=1450005760330835412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1450005760330835412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1450005760330835412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-am-so-excited-for-wilderness.html' title='augh!'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-1420159930234013970</id><published>2008-01-10T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:36:33.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>costco</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;today i went to costco with greg to buy groceries. it is cool having a friend (and a sister) with a costco card, so that i can buy things for a discounted price. the only problem with that store is that i don't NEED two economy sized jars of peanut butter for $7.35, and would be much better off getting one smaller sized one for $2.50. when i buy stuff at costco, it is expensive because there's a whole ton of it, which means i can only buy a few things, which means i am stuck eating the same meal for the next two weeks. is it worth it because i get the food for cheaper? hm, you tell me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; i need to go to albertsons to get peanut butter and honey in regular quantities. i have a gift card so it'll be free! gift cards to grocery stores are such excellent presents for students, i think. at least for this student.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;oh, just to dispel any rumors out there, greg and i are never going to hook up. greg will never be a vasicek because i have already promised myself to marry someone who has absolutely no issues with food or depression, and greg has issues with both. besides, i don't like him in that way. he's an awesome friend, though, and i have lots of fun when we hang out. but it's not going anywhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;sometimes i worry that i send mixed messages to boys. this is not a good thing. i have problems with making a guy think i like him when i don't, and then before i know it we're getting involved, and then i have to tell him i don't like him and he gets mad at me for leading him on, and there's not much i can say because i DID lead him on, even if i didn't mean to. i really hate it when i do that, but i don't mean to, so it's very hard for me to stop. oftentimes i don't even catch myself doing it until i find myself stuck in a relationship with a guy i don't even have feelings for. maybe it's because i am so out of touch with my emotions. no, more likely it's because i love attention and will do anything to get it from someone, even if it means leading them on. that is a really repulsive quality to have. ugh, i seriously need to work on that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;but i think a lot of it has to do with the fact that my personality is to be funny and joke around and be flirtatious with people. like, even girls, or married guys or older people. that sounds weird, that i would flirt with them, but i don't do it because i'm interested in them; playful banter is just what i DO, how i like to communicate. is it my fault if someone reads too much into that? yes? if so, then that sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; anyway, guess what? next tuesday, i'll probably be eating dinner with the hot painter dude! i told him i'd buy him dinner in exchange for driving me to the airport- i still think that was super-sweet of him to volunteer to take me. i think i'd rather buy him dinner than make it for him, since i am not a good cook and if he wanted a microwaved frozen dinner, he could have one at his own house right? my culinary prowess would not be much of a thank you, i'm sad to say. i told him this and he said "haha, well, um, at least you're honest." i wish i had more patience with stoves and cutting boards.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;where will we go for dinner? not costco, since that would mean i'd have to bring kate (and danny) with me, or else greg. THAT wouldn't be awkward. and though their drinks are only 55 cents, i'd rather go somewhere slightly more upscale. like taco bell. (that was a JOKE) knowing me, we'll probably end up at brick oven again. i love that place! should i ask kate and danny to come with me? would that be weird and awkward, since they are practically engaged? so many possibilities! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;it has definitely been way too long since i went on a real date. (i do NOT count that disaster with marlon where we yelled at each other the whole time. okay okay, I yelled, he laughed at me condescendingly. which is worse?)   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;my love sac is coming in the mail! i am so excited! soon, i shall be able to sprawl across it, laptop on my knees, and surf the net in comfort and style. if i clean my room, that is. right now there's not enough floor space cleared for it.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;dude, i wish i had a picture of this painter guy to post so everyone could see how hot he is. he's got this really cute, wide smile, and big, dreamy eyes with long eyelashes, and he has this really cute way of flipping his hair out of his face. my dad would think he's hot. he has very good taste in men. haha, that sounds funny, but it's true! he looks kind of like trent ford: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;img style="-webkit-user-select: none" src="http://i.imdb.com/Photos/Ss/0319524/howtodeal_CN-240-34A.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-1420159930234013970?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/1420159930234013970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=1420159930234013970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1420159930234013970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/1420159930234013970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/costco.html' title='costco'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-7512823916002575741</id><published>2008-01-09T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:36:49.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>purpose of this blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;sometimes the posts here will be identical to the ones on my live journal. (www.desertwanderer.livejournal.com) sometimes they won't be. i am somewhat irked by the way my parents react when they read about my struggles: my mom sends me about fifty emails and calls me ten or eleven times, and sometimes she gets very emotional. i am a wimp; i cannot stand to hear my mother cry. therefore, when i am distraught and don't want my parents to have to deal with it, i'll still have an outlet for those emotions. or, similarly, if i want to say something and not get teased about it, i'll put it here. my siblings probably know about this blog though, so that'll still be a consideration. it's not like i'd write anything incredibly personal that i don't want anyone to know about and then post it on the internet. that's be just plain stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-7512823916002575741?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/7512823916002575741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=7512823916002575741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/7512823916002575741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/7512823916002575741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/purpose-of-this-blog.html' title='purpose of this blog'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-3502437308404329821</id><published>2008-01-09T21:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:37:03.708-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WQ again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i am so excited about going back to wilderness quest!! it is hard for me to think about school and focus on the here and now with thoughts about returning to work there as a field staff are bouncing wildly around my head! i know i cannot get ahead of myself--- look what happened last time i did that--- but it's sooooo hard not to!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i think the desert and wilderness quest are like france was for kate. now it is easier for me to understand why she was so annoying and never stopped talking about it all the time. if it were up to me, i'd be talking about WQ at least 50% of the time. but no one would get it! which is why i am SO excited that i might be able to return to WQ, because obviously the people there would know what i'm talking about! oh my gosh, i miss it so much...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i wrote a few letters to my old boss to verify whether or not he would give me a second chance if i expressed an interest in returning as a staff. imagine how happy i was to hear him say YES! he is not entirely closed to the idea, what he'd really need from me is some way of knowing that i am strong enough in my own recovery to be in that environment. (last time, one of the students triggered me INSANELY. but i was already doing kind of sucky in recovery by then anyways.) that makes sense to me, and i responded that i really have no intention of returning before i get myself one solid year in recovery, which will be in June of this year. I have seven months now, and even with that i know i wouldn't be ready if i tried to go back now. i think when i am ready, i'll pray about it, and i'll know. certainly melissa (my therapist) will know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;now all i can think about is wilderness quest and all the wonderful crazy happy funny fantastic times i had out there, both as a student and later as a staff, and anticipating going out there again!! it's really quite distracting, you know. i need to think about other things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-3502437308404329821?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/3502437308404329821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=3502437308404329821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3502437308404329821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/3502437308404329821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/wq-again.html' title='WQ again!'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8958532540671227143.post-5964415634599008644</id><published>2008-01-09T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T21:37:28.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i have glow in the dark lipstick!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;classes at school are going swimmingly! it turns out i have nothing to fear, the stuff being taught is totally not over my head whatsoever--- i'd even go as far to say that some (not all, but definitely a few) classes at Williston would be harder than some of the classes at UVSC. but then again, that's to be expected when it's public v. private. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;the great thing about UVSC being public, by the way, is that i got a bus pass for FIVE BUCKS!! at BYU, they're $70! HAH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;anyhow, now that i've faced my fears and gone to my classes, (i even took a leap and signed up for another one last minute, ENG 1010, making it 9 credits) i feel very capable and ready to face the world! i know nine credits is not hardly anything, but it's more than nothing, and for someone who hasn't been in school long-term since the tenth grade, it's plenty. besides, i am looking for a job, so it's not like i'm planning on lying around doing nothing when i'm not in class. the biggest obstacle when looking for a job is transportation. i have no car, therefore i rely on the bus, and unless i want to spend about two hours commuting everyday, i pretty much need to get a job somewhere within 5 miles of where i live, or at least on state street. it would be really cool if i could work selling alarms (i don't think i'd mind it, once i got past the initial fear of talking to people over the phone), but they are located way over by the riverwoods mall, and i'd have to take two seperate buses to get there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;a job at the university mall would make sense, since it would be easy to get to and from on my own, but those jobs pay $7-$8 per hour, and i was hoping for something slightly more lucrative. tomorrow i will have the entire day to search, minus a doctor's appointment in the morning. i need refills on my medications. it was kind of funny, because when joe and i went to the storage unit the other day, i found some spare pills in a heap of junk that i was sifting through- score! i'm actually no longer on trileptol, so i guess i can throw that bottle away. or sell it on the black market, heh heh... mood stabilizers anyone? heh heh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;dude, i ran into the most random person today! so i was walking through the institute building, leaving a message on joe's answering machine, totally not expecting anything, when i hear this high pitched SHRIEK, and there, right in front of me, staring at me in disbelief, was margaret valdez, from gardner ward!! i totally did not know she was out here!! actually, i think my mom had told me at some point but i had completely forgotten. it was so crazy!! she ran up to me and gave me this great big hug- she would not let me go for like, a whole minute! how funny that i ran into her on campus! i gave her my number and she's going to call me to get together some time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i think we should have a springfield stake reunion. for real. me, kate, joe, greg, margaret, pat and matt cox, geoff, ellie, maybe kaori soon, elliot king, maybe cooper king soon, elder jones, elder sherwood, and i'm sure there's lots more people i'm forgetting. kate, if you are reading this, i think we should organize some sort of get-together, maybe at my house or yours. there's usually no one here except for me, so i doubt it would be too disruptive. kate and greg could do all the food since they like to cook, i can prepare the house and help spread the word, and joe can write more short stories to read for entertainment! (THAT LAST PART WAS JUST A JOKE, JOE, DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT WRITE MORE STORIES TO READ FOR ENTERTAINMENT!!) it's such a good idea! and the elders would totally feel like they were back on the mission, aww! i think we should do it! thoughts?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i like garrison keillor's voice, but i'm scared of his face. does anyone else feel the same way? recently, i've been feeling very repulsed when i see ugly people. this is not a good thing. i feel bad, like i'm prejudging them without meaning to. i wish i were nicer. then again, i have weird ideas of what's ugly and what's not, so maybe i'm doing the opposite without meaning to. hm. for example, i think george clooney is ugly. the hottest actor, in my opinion, is macauley culkin by FAR... and no, i am not talking about home alone, i am not a complete creep, i am talking about him when he's older. also, i think sheryl wringer is cute. but maybe i think that because i know she has a good heart, and so i don't notice her flaws anymore. meh, whatever. i'll try not to judge the weirdos i see on the bus as much. (first step: stop referring to them as "weirdos")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i think i am rambling now, so i'd better stop. all is not well in zion, but i'm doing pretty good. ta ta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8958532540671227143-5964415634599008644?l=desertartist.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/feeds/5964415634599008644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8958532540671227143&amp;postID=5964415634599008644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/5964415634599008644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8958532540671227143/posts/default/5964415634599008644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://desertartist.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-have-glow-in-dark-lipstick.html' title='i have glow in the dark lipstick!'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10354153251635732069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yHigMJ2Q1U4/R56PNDkK43I/AAAAAAAAAEU/5-bAbcr3mgo/S220/Photo+35.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
