<?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-4266649506608271824</id><updated>2012-02-14T22:47:01.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bread, wheat.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>85</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5625606199523161373</id><published>2012-02-04T17:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T17:55:34.584-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jGYpqZPOBjY/Ty3bzlLklMI/AAAAAAAAAWc/EFNxcZ8Qp54/s1600/hgkf%2B041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jGYpqZPOBjY/Ty3bzlLklMI/AAAAAAAAAWc/EFNxcZ8Qp54/s400/hgkf%2B041.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705457982148744386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;I got accepted into OU. I feel extremely good about it. I am just so incredibly worried about paying for it. Worried sick. Ideally, I would like to not have any dept once I get out which is totally and completely unavoidable. Naturally. I seem to have a lot running through my mind 24/7. It seems as though I'll never be able to get it all down on paper and especially in any sort of order. So, I will start with the things that I remember or feel that are most important. Here goes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;I no longer have my monroe. I took it out for soccer and let it grow back in. I feel different without it and I will probably get it redone once season is over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;Currently, I am sitting at home on the couch this Saturday night. I am kind of bitter right now, partly because I am cranky and partly because of nothing else, and I will tell you why. I literally do nothing on the weekends. I mainly hang out with my mom. We go to the grocery store, to various restaurants, and just run around town. Which in no way am I complaining about getting to hangout with my mom because really it's awesome! It's just when she is sleeping and it's five o'clock on a Saturday night and I have zero friends to hangout with and I'm just sitting in the dark watching AFV on Netfliz and wallowing in my misery, I tend to get a little irritated. I miss my friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;My senior year seems to be flying by. It's passing with a flash right before my eyes. Everyday is a new weary, sleepy-eyed adventure. Soccer is going just as it always goes. I realize a little bit more each day how much I am going to miss the people I am just now starting to form (or rebuild) or even add onto steady relationships with. I plan to keep in touch with the people that I hold close, though. With senior year comes senior prom (insert puking noise). Molly has already informed me that no going is not an option. This has it's pros and cons. I am just about one thousand percent sure that I will not be acquiring a date. So, I am going to be down on myself while I hangout with the love birds all night (kill me). Maybe I am wrong. I hope I am wrong. I hope the boy of my dreams asks me and I say yes and we dance the night away! Okay, a little cliche. But seriously though. I can't exactly say I have my sights set on any particular handsome man. I am fighting back the urge to sing "I Won't Say I'm In Love" from Hercules right now. No really, I am not in love but you can send in your applications for cuddle buddy anytime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span  &gt;I try to do a lot of things to keep my mind off of the first thought of this post, going to college. I need to remember to pray about this one often. Prayer is power, after all.&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/4266649506608271824-5625606199523161373?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5625606199523161373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-got-accepted-into-ou.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5625606199523161373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5625606199523161373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-got-accepted-into-ou.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jGYpqZPOBjY/Ty3bzlLklMI/AAAAAAAAAWc/EFNxcZ8Qp54/s72-c/hgkf%2B041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6790087960343808929</id><published>2011-11-16T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T15:42:09.940-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Hey blog, long time no see. I can't say that there is really anything new going on in the life of Kelsey. I can probably show you pictures of what's been going on, but who reads this anyway? The weather outside suddenly decided to acknowledge that it's the month of November. My hands are ice sickles. Well I've made it almost to Thanksgiving without my all my best friends but one at my side and I am happy to say that I'm doing surprisingly well. I see Jessica every weekend, and Kyle occasionally. Ashley comes down every so often and so does Garrett. I have even seen Lindsey a few times! Although I hardly talk to Jimmy. I don't think I've missed a single Friday football game so far. I also just turned 18 on Sunday and I registered to vote yesterday! I wanted to register Independent but my momma told me that I should not do that because there aren't many candidates. I registered Democrat because that is what my mom is. Even Ingham said that I lean more towards that side based on classroom discussions last year. Speaking of Ingham. I am biking on Saturday. Okay I guess I am just going to try and post the best pictures from this year so far... There will probably be a lot. Who knows? Maybe I will even blog again before Christmas break. Sorry there are so many pictures. The pictures are in no particular order. I must also say that recently I have been so into Motown music. Motown Radio on Pandora. I highly recommend it!!! Okay, that's all for now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LJkS-nmSKd4/TsRIn-JjsvI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/GDQ2rW7Uvgk/s1600/291729_10150405436082323_765592322_10105599_1720629592_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LJkS-nmSKd4/TsRIn-JjsvI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/GDQ2rW7Uvgk/s400/291729_10150405436082323_765592322_10105599_1720629592_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675741281928852210" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I miss Ashhey 108% of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TfYtAKYp0DQ/TsRIm73MYNI/AAAAAAAAAWE/5a3WWh3aDGE/s1600/373938_10150456068891454_704711453_10561613_446924161_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TfYtAKYp0DQ/TsRIm73MYNI/AAAAAAAAAWE/5a3WWh3aDGE/s400/373938_10150456068891454_704711453_10561613_446924161_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675741264135086290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Yes, yes I did straighten my hair one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V8UlLZoKF2c/TsRImszJZmI/AAAAAAAAAV0/wifVevXIq0g/s1600/321566_10150352615827323_765592322_9750547_7480942_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V8UlLZoKF2c/TsRImszJZmI/AAAAAAAAAV0/wifVevXIq0g/s400/321566_10150352615827323_765592322_9750547_7480942_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675741260091582050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TiIG82iFF5E/TsRImnxY6ZI/AAAAAAAAAVs/rzdwgWWEYSY/s1600/320635_10150351928267323_765592322_9744559_1572738_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TiIG82iFF5E/TsRImnxY6ZI/AAAAAAAAAVs/rzdwgWWEYSY/s400/320635_10150351928267323_765592322_9744559_1572738_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675741258742032786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Best friend rivalries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UUw5t9tlnCo/TsRILt0PTlI/AAAAAAAAAVc/8srmahLhkUE/s1600/320190_295167163827295_100000020407584_1269777_660796460_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UUw5t9tlnCo/TsRILt0PTlI/AAAAAAAAAVc/8srmahLhkUE/s400/320190_295167163827295_100000020407584_1269777_660796460_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740796508130898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I am happy he is my good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--E49HOo7Uwc/TsRILBeNuCI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/lYsuOgwKcPM/s1600/320122_10150503705779392_519589391_11401831_585621851_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--E49HOo7Uwc/TsRILBeNuCI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/lYsuOgwKcPM/s400/320122_10150503705779392_519589391_11401831_585621851_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740784604592162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Frat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xOMQXBbFIsc/TsRIKdVzAUI/AAAAAAAAAVE/rpAdzVu1Zz4/s1600/320059_10150414517685295_714165294_10724909_1878164580_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xOMQXBbFIsc/TsRIKdVzAUI/AAAAAAAAAVE/rpAdzVu1Zz4/s400/320059_10150414517685295_714165294_10724909_1878164580_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740774905610562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iy6-ALHqq8o/TsRIKIzaVRI/AAAAAAAAAU0/pQGBft7DL_0/s1600/319141_10150406150877323_765592322_10111098_1360780702_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iy6-ALHqq8o/TsRIKIzaVRI/AAAAAAAAAU0/pQGBft7DL_0/s400/319141_10150406150877323_765592322_10111098_1360780702_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740769392678162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;This was on the tilt-a-whirl. Yes this is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D43PW9jxkAQ/TsRIJ-uhlTI/AAAAAAAAAUs/4Adk9st9uH8/s1600/318868_10150374388989789_698264788_10099514_1145326107_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D43PW9jxkAQ/TsRIJ-uhlTI/AAAAAAAAAUs/4Adk9st9uH8/s400/318868_10150374388989789_698264788_10099514_1145326107_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740766687827250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-UHxukaqas/TsRHwNxC8MI/AAAAAAAAAUg/fOmfsI7JIpA/s1600/315973_10150354744982323_765592322_9775285_1273100_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-UHxukaqas/TsRHwNxC8MI/AAAAAAAAAUg/fOmfsI7JIpA/s400/315973_10150354744982323_765592322_9775285_1273100_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740324048335042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Earlier on in the year. Still warm enough for shorty shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TN2CfD9FBUk/TsRHv2_ecuI/AAAAAAAAAUU/EMxA7QIhlno/s1600/315864_1833858064551_1783428782_1250905_1063688087_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TN2CfD9FBUk/TsRHv2_ecuI/AAAAAAAAAUU/EMxA7QIhlno/s400/315864_1833858064551_1783428782_1250905_1063688087_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740317934842594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;This girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-07xA9wJtAAU/TsRHu6p42eI/AAAAAAAAAUI/DZ3ibu1pkv8/s1600/314941_10150541913019256_812144255_11542009_497527629_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-07xA9wJtAAU/TsRHu6p42eI/AAAAAAAAAUI/DZ3ibu1pkv8/s400/314941_10150541913019256_812144255_11542009_497527629_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740301738170850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I was a lion for Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kb0KHBjsVO8/TsRHuu4EPmI/AAAAAAAAAT4/RwnAQjE3d50/s1600/314600_10150503708854392_519589391_11401859_1266990216_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kb0KHBjsVO8/TsRHuu4EPmI/AAAAAAAAAT4/RwnAQjE3d50/s400/314600_10150503708854392_519589391_11401859_1266990216_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740298576412258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It's not hard to tell we're best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KOe87QH3ULk/TsRHuWGXcDI/AAAAAAAAATw/6zUS8lGyFkQ/s1600/311898_1804588333762_1811495759_1170127_1159522668_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KOe87QH3ULk/TsRHuWGXcDI/AAAAAAAAATw/6zUS8lGyFkQ/s400/311898_1804588333762_1811495759_1170127_1159522668_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675740291925504050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfWJ4dm0vxE/TsRHTFNdhAI/AAAAAAAAATg/OZTHsGwOSyw/s1600/311781_295167623827249_100000020407584_1269782_1790060702_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfWJ4dm0vxE/TsRHTFNdhAI/AAAAAAAAATg/OZTHsGwOSyw/s400/311781_295167623827249_100000020407584_1269782_1790060702_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739823535391746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I am hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-ZSLSjf-cI/TsRHSldQ6ZI/AAAAAAAAATU/PpgAyaqqNyY/s1600/309566_10150541457179256_812144255_11540699_22669641_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-ZSLSjf-cI/TsRHSldQ6ZI/AAAAAAAAATU/PpgAyaqqNyY/s400/309566_10150541457179256_812144255_11540699_22669641_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739815011740050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lKSdzX6qZPw/TsRHRyNr2XI/AAAAAAAAATI/0QlK4fyNlxo/s1600/302662_10150368075316454_704711453_10009822_6377055_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lKSdzX6qZPw/TsRHRyNr2XI/AAAAAAAAATI/0QlK4fyNlxo/s400/302662_10150368075316454_704711453_10009822_6377055_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739801256188274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Girls of Fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LVkdNjzDAxo/TsRHRsm67xI/AAAAAAAAAS4/fsivcuHr9ZM/s1600/302569_10150503703359392_519589391_11401819_1126506524_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LVkdNjzDAxo/TsRHRsm67xI/AAAAAAAAAS4/fsivcuHr9ZM/s400/302569_10150503703359392_519589391_11401819_1126506524_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739799751421714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Family reunions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VCDV-FqrWuc/TsRHRhvDCxI/AAAAAAAAASw/1fv-rkn7PNI/s1600/301038_10150467166574256_812144255_11111787_1828709919_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VCDV-FqrWuc/TsRHRhvDCxI/AAAAAAAAASw/1fv-rkn7PNI/s400/301038_10150467166574256_812144255_11111787_1828709919_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739796832717586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;80's day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5CPmvPKQu-I/TsRGn2sRQWI/AAAAAAAAASk/XpQwg8RzGVU/s1600/299990_10150449341364256_812144255_11008953_591736204_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5CPmvPKQu-I/TsRGn2sRQWI/AAAAAAAAASk/XpQwg8RzGVU/s400/299990_10150449341364256_812144255_11008953_591736204_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739080903704930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;KATY PERRY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ezgGhBs0Xvc/TsRGm8A9vfI/AAAAAAAAASc/aK8De8B-efw/s1600/299960_10150361297807323_765592322_9836904_7478525_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ezgGhBs0Xvc/TsRGm8A9vfI/AAAAAAAAASc/aK8De8B-efw/s400/299960_10150361297807323_765592322_9836904_7478525_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739065152814578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;In Norman for the weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2YPy9sDvI8/TsRGmrYxVQI/AAAAAAAAASI/ZdhTa1GkzBs/s1600/299885_2158129636109_1332547443_31963605_614179275_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2YPy9sDvI8/TsRGmrYxVQI/AAAAAAAAASI/ZdhTa1GkzBs/s400/299885_2158129636109_1332547443_31963605_614179275_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739060689261826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Bike bike bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5ptDKEOXULo/TsRGmbs_D8I/AAAAAAAAASA/wO-RUYlohFk/s1600/297413_10150475760119256_812144255_11165221_2144262799_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5ptDKEOXULo/TsRGmbs_D8I/AAAAAAAAASA/wO-RUYlohFk/s400/297413_10150475760119256_812144255_11165221_2144262799_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739056479080386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I am a good girls of fall member.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L5laYVWhcXc/TsRGmDWZAAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/6lW2JItnURc/s1600/296650_10150406150382323_765592322_10111091_16380627_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L5laYVWhcXc/TsRGmDWZAAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/6lW2JItnURc/s400/296650_10150406150382323_765592322_10111091_16380627_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675739049941860354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Best friends at the fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eutzXWgm-Js/TsRFk9V0CeI/AAAAAAAAARo/eoEqw_4HXbg/s1600/295920_1872419389496_1811495759_1219606_2079441085_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eutzXWgm-Js/TsRFk9V0CeI/AAAAAAAAARo/eoEqw_4HXbg/s400/295920_1872419389496_1811495759_1219606_2079441085_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675737931637328354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I am witty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZOXPDfOxd8/TsRFjgBb_uI/AAAAAAAAARc/lXiwXGACZ00/s1600/291951_10150424664217323_765592322_10228011_1331612060_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZOXPDfOxd8/TsRFjgBb_uI/AAAAAAAAARc/lXiwXGACZ00/s400/291951_10150424664217323_765592322_10228011_1331612060_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675737906587369186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Ashhey's birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvwuIpZlFPU/TsRFjpXr-KI/AAAAAAAAARM/fEjgxPJkdVM/s1600/294635_10150503707049392_519589391_11401839_2071050378_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvwuIpZlFPU/TsRFjpXr-KI/AAAAAAAAARM/fEjgxPJkdVM/s400/294635_10150503707049392_519589391_11401839_2071050378_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675737909096609954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;My cute little sophomores.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFjN9285J1M/TsRFjUU0ouI/AAAAAAAAARE/alFiCL85SyY/s1600/297227_10150373841134155_699269154_10279523_1041949846_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFjN9285J1M/TsRFjUU0ouI/AAAAAAAAARE/alFiCL85SyY/s400/297227_10150373841134155_699269154_10279523_1041949846_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675737903447450338" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;This girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/4266649506608271824-6790087960343808929?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6790087960343808929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/11/hey-blog-long-time-no-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6790087960343808929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6790087960343808929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/11/hey-blog-long-time-no-see.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LJkS-nmSKd4/TsRIn-JjsvI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/GDQ2rW7Uvgk/s72-c/291729_10150405436082323_765592322_10105599_1720629592_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5085528959316571042</id><published>2011-08-08T15:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T16:00:33.875-07:00</updated><title type='text'>family &gt; everything.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/250742_210273302346884_100000926465968_559588_3725798_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/37145_488896377322_765592322_6972041_7973274_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/63885_10150095474984256_812144255_7325828_2291774_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/30728_451747584391_519589391_5909358_3403958_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I have 10 best friends. Ten people I am sending away in a week (two of which have already gone). Ten people I spill all my guts too, ten people that I rely on, ten people that mean the world to me. Ten people I have spent the last three years of my life with. Ten people I will continue to be best friends with until the day that I die. &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/4266649506608271824-5085528959316571042?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5085528959316571042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-everything.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5085528959316571042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5085528959316571042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-everything.html' title='family &gt; everything.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5901211123435429484</id><published>2011-07-20T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T14:08:01.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;*I am apologizing in advance for the pictures being massively huge and any misspelled words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;I really should start blogging more. I probably will once school starts. Actually don't hold me to that, please. All the time I read Shelby and Ryan's blogs and they are both really great bloggers and I sort of suck. Anyway, I think I will fill you in on everything that has happened since June 21st (last time I blogged), just give me a second.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Well on June 29th I got my license. (I am scrolling through facebook to view the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; dates that way I can give you a very accurate account). So yes I finally acquired my driver's license and now, although I haven't yet, I can drive anywhere all by my lonesome. Legally. Also on this day, Zach had a pool party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/268131_10150299332737323_765592322_9200240_3759906_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;I guess now I will skip to the fourth of July. My favourite holiday! Ashhey and I went to her Pittser grandparents house because they have this huge get together every year that the whole entire family attends. I love her whole family because I am definitely apart of them. Well, we partied at the Pittser's and then we drove to Zach's because he is our best friend and also having a party. I love hanging out with the fam. I have some of the greatest best friends in the entire world. Honestly, I can't really remember anything crazy about this night but I will let you in on a few details. 1) When we got there everyone, including Zach's mom, was in the front yard playing kickball. Of course I joined the game. I got tackled by Garrett and I made a amazing catch resulting in an out. 2) While the boys, being the piros that they are, set off fireworks Kyle got the bright idea to run through a sprinkler resulting in a burn that looks like the bite marks from the movie Paranormal Activity. 3) Ashhey, Ryan, and I photobombed hard. 4) I made my shorts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/265114_251919468158785_100000222028101_1160364_7392391_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/262089_10150303364997323_765592322_9251876_2384200_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/260327_10150303365132323_765592322_9251877_3963748_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/270793_10150379402009392_519589391_10392642_4765676_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Two days later I was on a van for 14 hours on my way to Chicago with my youthgroup. Most amazing thing ever. I got to hangout with Ashhey, Garrett, Molly, Mike, Hunter, Dillon, Mikey, and everyone, everyday. There is this church in Chicago by the name of North West and every summer they hold a basketball camp for inner city kids and our church helps out with it. The camp is 3 days long but we always stay down there for a week. It is such a cool mission trip because we get to hangout and talk with such awesome kids for 3 days and then the rest of the time we just get to hangout with each other. I always have such &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;separation anxiety after I get back from somewhere and I am not with my youthgroup everyday. Anyway I can't sum up Chicago in a paragraph, the pizza, the hotdogs, the good times,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt; so here are a few pictures.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/284509_10150311108977323_765592322_9334459_7908360_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/268374_10150311109197323_765592322_9334464_1859051_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/268197_10150311113447323_765592322_9334580_4555035_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/264675_10150311108262323_765592322_9334436_6742213_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/269049_10150311113117323_765592322_9334575_1264488_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/282164_10150311108667323_765592322_9334449_4005520_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Since being back from Chi-town, I haven't slept in my bed once. I am currently residing on the couch. I'm not sure why. Also basically every day since we got back I have been with at least Ashhey, Mike, and Hunter (sometimes, most of the time Johnny, also). I love hanging out with them! I would do anything for any one of them. We like to spend our nights being out late, watching scary movies, swimming under the moon, and sitting in the grass talking about things best friends talk about. Here is what we look like:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/270547_10150315759247323_765592322_9377511_7903129_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/269477_10150315759647323_765592322_9377519_6375023_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/281252_10150315759857323_765592322_9377523_4888944_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/282192_10150315759102323_765592322_9377508_2696543_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Now, I realize that I am getting a little out of order but here is the part where I am going to talk about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. Overall I thought the movie wasn't that bad. There were a few (okay, kind of a lot) of things that could have been better, but only to those of us that actually read the book. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;A) Bellatrix Lestrange's death did her no justice. She is brilliant and deserves so much more than being cursed into a million pieces in the small corner of the room where nobody is paying a lick of attention to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;B) GEORGE HAS TWO EARS. I am not sure if you recall in Part 1 (chapter four, "The Seven Potters", to be exact) George gets his ear sliced off by a curse, thus resulting in only one ear ("How are you feeling?" "Saint-like."). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;C) Fred, Lupin, and Tonks were not seen enough. The film spent about 30 seconds on Fred's lifeless body and about 10 on Tonks and Lupin combined. They deserve much, much more respect than that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;D) What was up with Voldemort's death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;E) Also, Kings Cross Station. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;^ That is all I can think of at the moment that I was unhappy with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/270295_10150383139094392_519589391_10418438_5298888_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Well, well. I think this is a find update on my life and I hope I haven't bored you too much. &lt;/span&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/4266649506608271824-5901211123435429484?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5901211123435429484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-really-should-start-blogging-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5901211123435429484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5901211123435429484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-really-should-start-blogging-more.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-869456843299037644</id><published>2011-06-21T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T11:20:59.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;So, I started making this list a while back. I guess you could call it a bucketlist. I, however, lost this list and am being forced to try and remember manually what all was on it. It wasn't very long but I mean still. So, I suppose I am going to re-type a shorter version of this list. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Ride a horse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Go to Spain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Learn how to surf.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;California.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Camp at the Grand Canyon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Okay, that is a basic rundown. And now I can cross riding a horse off of my list because I did it for the first time ever yesterday! It was awesome! I can't wait to go back to Ellen's and do it again!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Church camp was awesome. I wish I was there still. I got so use to being with Ashley, Mike, Kenny, Hunter, Dillon, Angelea, and everyone else that when I came home it was so weird being by myself. I got back Friday night, and hung out with a few of the people mentioned above Saturday and Sunday. I was with them all day every day for an entire week until yesterday. Not being with them makes me really anxious and I don't know why. They are just my comfort right now I suppose and with good reason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Tonight I am going to Mike's with Ashley, Johnny, Kenny, and Hunter (I think). We are going to most likely do the usual of swimming and then I think we're going to watch Paranormal Activity (even though we have already seen it, more than once) because Mike's upstairs rocks! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Garrett and Kyle are home from Mexico!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't wait to see them and give them both big hugs. I have missed them so much! &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/4266649506608271824-869456843299037644?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/869456843299037644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-i-started-making-this-list-while.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/869456843299037644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/869456843299037644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-i-started-making-this-list-while.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8581897763881070097</id><published>2011-06-10T23:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T23:19:48.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Where are you? No, seriously. Where are you? You haven't been in my life in over a year. It's our season. I need to fill you in on everything you've missed. I miss sharing my secrets with you, I have so many secrets that I'm busting. I think my eyes are watering right now, even. I want to be in your car with the cd player up as loud as it can go. I want to sing Intergalactic Friends at the top of my lungs over and over again. I want to lay in your dad's truck bed and look up at the stars and eat sunflower seeds. I want to have a late night snack run to Taco Bell and I want to walk to Kum and Go and get 32 oz and some candy. I want cherry sours every day of my life. I want to stay up late and freeze to death in your house and play Mario Golf. I want to lay in your bed and watch The Nanny until 5 in the morning. I want to scrap up as much change as possible and go get a snowcone. I want to drive around and talk about all the drama going on in our lives. I want to fill you in with everything you have missed. I want to talk about music and time machines and aliens and kittens and life and boys and food and tree frogs. I want to feel infinite. I want to sneak next door and play with the baby kitties that are roaming around. I want to sit and talk about things that wouldn't make sense to anyone else besides us. I want to have a day where seriously everything is funny, again. I want to talk in stupid accents for hours. I want to take a million pictures and stay up until i physically can't anymore. Youre the best friend I've ever had in the entire world and I don't know where you are. You know? It just sucks that we haven't seen each other in so long. I guess I just miss you is all. I miss having you there to pick me up when I'm down. I miss having you there to tell me that things are going to work out no matter what the situation. I miss you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8581897763881070097?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8581897763881070097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/06/where-are-you-no-seriously.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8581897763881070097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8581897763881070097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/06/where-are-you-no-seriously.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7381692524989814079</id><published>2011-05-30T00:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T00:33:54.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I am probably not going to blog frequently over the course of this summer -but then again, I haven't been blogging frequently anyhow, have I? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Okay so here is the lowdown. School ended on Friday. I passed all my classes and most of my final tests. I got a 69 on my spanish test, which I realize its not flying colours but I will take it, and I got ended up with a letter grade B in the class. Ellen's graduation dinner was last night. Stuffz went down but everything is okay now and we're done with the stupid drama and once again a strong family. Family &amp;gt; everything. I have been thinking a lot lately and I don't know who I should tell what thoughts I have too*. Different thoughts go to different people. It's summer and I am not going to let a thing get me down. Over the course of the weekend I have been out late, swimming, and with the boys. The boys and Ashhey and I. Just as it should be. I will let everyone in on my plans for the next week: Tomorrow (Monday) I am going to wake up (semi) early and clean the house (-________-) then I will be off to the zoo at 12 and tomorrow night it's poker night 2k11 at Ld's house. I can't wait. I just love hanging out with the family. Skipping too Wednes! After soccer camp the girls are going to Ellen's to swim!! Then that night we're having a bonfire. Thursday, I can't remember but something good is happening! We are cramming as must summer into this week because Friday is the day of Jessica's surgery. Ah. I need to make a summer to-do-list ASAP. I have run out of things to say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;*bleh weighing my brain down. &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/4266649506608271824-7381692524989814079?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7381692524989814079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-am-probably-not-going-to-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7381692524989814079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7381692524989814079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-am-probably-not-going-to-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-830278708147371648</id><published>2011-05-24T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T20:26:09.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;My babies graduated on Friday and I couldn't be more proud. Garrett had a graduation party on Saturday that everyone attended. I'm very proud of him. I am realizing how much I am going to miss him. Ellen is having a grad dinner this Saturday and I'm stoked. My friends rule. I am going to be okay. Life is okay. There are only three more days of school left and I am very over school. I am done with my reviews. I am done with waking up early. I am done. Just done. I don't know what the summer holds but I really hope I find adventure. I want adventure, someone to cuddle with, lots of tacos, Polaroid cameras, one snow cone a day, and swingsets. As I said it's the last few days of school and I am going to bed later than ever, caring less then I've cared all year, slacking more than I've ever slacked, and I'm still going to pass with flying colours. Actually I am very very extremely worried about my spanish final... Meh. I need to get back to writing in my journal and I also need to read some more of The Chamber of Secrets. I can feel that this post is going nowhere so I would like to stop this random rambling. I want a summer romance. I really do. Why am I being such a girl lately?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;This is just a shout out to all the beautiful people I know. -Thank you for being you. Youre beautiful and please don't believe anyone if they ever tell you otherwise. I appreciate you so much! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&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/4266649506608271824-830278708147371648?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/830278708147371648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-babies-graduated-on-friday-and-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/830278708147371648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/830278708147371648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-babies-graduated-on-friday-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4843662288768114341</id><published>2011-05-16T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T16:01:49.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have been thinking (or more so trying not to think) about my best friends graduating on Friday. I really am lucky to have a numerous amount of best friends in my life. I have 10 people I consider to be my best friends and they go by the names of Ashhey, Jessica, Lindsey, Molly, Ellen, Johnny, Kyle, Jimmy, Garrett, and Zach. All such beautiful people. After Friday and this summer Ashley, Johnny, and Garrett will be heading off to Norman, Jessica to Stillwater, Ellen to Vanderbilt, Jimmy to Washington University, Ld is going to John Brown, Kyle to RSU, and Zach will be attending TCC. I know that most of my friends will be close to home but the closest will be Kyle and Zach. I honestly cannot tell you how incredibly grateful I am that those two are staying home. Kyle and Zach are my security blankets. I was so afraid of next year and being on my own, aside from Molly, I was scared of feeling abandoned and alone. Now though I am realizing that I am going to be okay because I will have Kyle and Zach, out of everyone leaving, to keep me rooted. I don't think the two will realize how much I am counting on them nor will they ever know how much I need them. I am forever grateful of my 10 best friends. They have taught me so much more than they will ever know and I can't wait to see them grow and grow with them over the years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4843662288768114341?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4843662288768114341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-have-been-thinking-or-more-so-trying.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4843662288768114341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4843662288768114341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-have-been-thinking-or-more-so-trying.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-146808899349286343</id><published>2011-05-14T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T00:08:02.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Beautiful, perfect, funny, considerate, wonderful, charming, adventurous boy of my dreams where are you? I can't seem to find you anywhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-146808899349286343?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/146808899349286343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/beautiful-perfect-funny-considerate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/146808899349286343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/146808899349286343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/beautiful-perfect-funny-considerate.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1083842095788166487</id><published>2011-05-09T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T17:43:02.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Lately, I have been feeling weird. I am not even really sure why. I think Hance's death has made me realize that life can be shorter than I think. It makes my stomach hurt to think about. I didn't even know Hance and I am devastated by the loss of him. It really is a shame that his life was gone because, although I didn't know him, I could tell he was a beautiful boy. I have been praying a lot lately especially for his friends and family. I mean praying a lot, and I know it may seem silly because I didn't know him but I asked God to tell him hey from me and I asked God to ask Hance if he would watch our backs from all the way up there. I am not sure why this is weighing me down. I was in Ingham's class today and my heart was just so heavy for him, I got really sad. Maybe this has me questioning life? I am not sure. As silly as it does seem, I will probably keep having God relay messages to Hance from me. Think of that what you will but I am going to keep doing it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-1083842095788166487?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1083842095788166487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/lately-i-have-been-feeling-weird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1083842095788166487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1083842095788166487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/lately-i-have-been-feeling-weird.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8319877874858895034</id><published>2011-05-01T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T15:11:54.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello blog. I've missed you. I would tell you everything that is going on and gone wrong since the last time I posted but there is just too much. What you really need to know is that I just have some few thoughts that I'd like to sit here and type out so you will be back in once again, when I am done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll start with this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;1) Friday I had a lot of fun because after school and my shower Molly, Garrett, Zach, Kyle, Ryan and I went to Coney Islander in Tulsa and then we went to the mall. Once we got back into town we went to Ben's bonfire (catchy) and we hung out and me and Molly had boy talk where Lindsey and Jessica and Molly found out about the other boy I have kissed in my life time. 2) Saturday the OHS team held a car wash via booster club. Me and the members of the fam that were still working took a break to go eat Baja Jacks before going our separate ways M, G, J, A, and E were off to psychology bonus while J went to soccer practice and meanwhile I went back to the bank to keep on washin' cars. This lasted until two. As soon as I got home, I was already leaving with RyBri to go to Glen's house with their crew. I had so much fun. I can see their bonds and it's amazing. Soon after I left Glen's I went to Ashhey's because we had a sleep over. 3) It's Sunday and now I am home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be the girl that wants a boyfriend but lately I have been feeling lonely in the boy aspect of my life. It doesn't even have to be a boyfriend boyfriend. I just want a boy to be around that I can hold hands with and kiss sometimes and lay around and do nothing with and we can watch scary movies and be cute with. Why am I being so boy crazy!? Okay so now that I am over that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I have been eight years old and in second grade JessWood has always and forever will be my comfort zone. My security blanket. Now though, she isn't around as often (or ever, really) I feel like I am getting the same type of security from another being. J will always be who I am the most comfortable with but I think the safe-ness is being split in two for the time being. Kyle is start to become my safety net. I am okay with this because he is a brother to me. He is my one of my best friends. Anyway, I just needed to get these things off my chest. Thank you for listening.&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/4266649506608271824-8319877874858895034?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8319877874858895034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/hello-blog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8319877874858895034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8319877874858895034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/05/hello-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7861394308039715615</id><published>2011-03-15T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T19:15:50.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJPGq24fUhc/TYAWGEV7UxI/AAAAAAAAAPo/zU6n3QaHAbo/s1600/DSCN0315.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584487831440151314" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJPGq24fUhc/TYAWGEV7UxI/AAAAAAAAAPo/zU6n3QaHAbo/s400/DSCN0315.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I don't know why, but I just feel like I am in a really good place right now. I spent the day with my mom again. She had her hair appointment at 10 am this morning, bffoy did it! So we spent most of the day with bffoy and I was so happy. We all ate lunch together on bffoy's lunch break. We went to Bill and Ruth's. I forgot how seriously amazing that place was. I ordered a taco salad and then I scarfed the entire thing down. I wanted another one instantly after. Thinking about it still makes my mouth water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I got a laptop today! I am so excited about it. No world wide web at my house until monday though. I am okay with that. The laptop was a late birthday/christmas present from my mom/dad. I will take care of my new baby. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am really proud of myself for getting along with my mom the past two days. I just feel like that is good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I really would like to meet someone new. Not new as in someone to date new. Not even necessarily new, it could be just someone in the fam. I just want someone to share my secrets with. I want to find someone that understands the person that I am. I just want to find somebody that gets it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I really miss RyanBright. We text quite often but I just think that saying the things we text about out loud and with our own voices might make us feel better. Some form of therapy. Saying problems out loud might make them okay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today my mother mentioned stretch marks on my hips. Bam, realization. I am getting bigger than my body would like me too, oddly I am okay with this fact. I happen to be comfortable with the size and shape of my body. I have been thinking a lot about tattoos lately. I can't wait to get mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is Tuesday. The second official day of springbreakage. Jessica comes home on Thursday &amp;amp; so does Jimmy. The rest of this week and weekend will kickbutt. I especially can not wait for Saturday. Flea market and an indoor game then most likely hanging out with the family. Saturday = Life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7861394308039715615?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7861394308039715615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-dont-know-why-but-i-just-feel-like-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7861394308039715615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7861394308039715615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-dont-know-why-but-i-just-feel-like-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJPGq24fUhc/TYAWGEV7UxI/AAAAAAAAAPo/zU6n3QaHAbo/s72-c/DSCN0315.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8626925016101899331</id><published>2011-03-14T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T15:30:10.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lHHBnk2c7hU/TX6TsMpgUlI/AAAAAAAAAPg/T-gSMfg09aE/s1600/197571_10150202658594392_519589391_8978723_1128275_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 492px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 326px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584062975504831058" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lHHBnk2c7hU/TX6TsMpgUlI/AAAAAAAAAPg/T-gSMfg09aE/s400/197571_10150202658594392_519589391_8978723_1128275_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;^ taken by my good friend Lindsey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;so, it is monday. it is the first official day of spring break and i spent the day with my mom. we actually got along for the most part. we went to Tulsa where i got new contacts, then we went to best buy because i will be purchasing a new laptop very, very soon, after that we went to eat at monteray's. it was nice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;spring break has just started and it is a lot to handle. so much to handle. basically i just wanted to blog because i had a really good day with my mom. i love my mom.&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/4266649506608271824-8626925016101899331?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8626925016101899331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/taken-by-my-good-friend-lindsey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8626925016101899331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8626925016101899331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/taken-by-my-good-friend-lindsey.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lHHBnk2c7hU/TX6TsMpgUlI/AAAAAAAAAPg/T-gSMfg09aE/s72-c/197571_10150202658594392_519589391_8978723_1128275_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6240744786766642661</id><published>2011-03-07T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T16:52:28.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc66xJD1_2w/TXV5Ix8W99I/AAAAAAAAAPY/wktM-FXpCig/s1600/tumblr_lhm9ogxXbs1qbwmgoo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581500504948013010" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc66xJD1_2w/TXV5Ix8W99I/AAAAAAAAAPY/wktM-FXpCig/s400/tumblr_lhm9ogxXbs1qbwmgoo1_500.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; i did it. i created the MOTHER OF ALL pandora radio stations. i am actually kind of proud of myself. it has anywhere from Jimi Hendrix to Blink 182 to Kid Cudi. champion. Pink Floyd is now on. it is actually the song that is playing in the movie Due Date when they are driving in the car, smoking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;anyway i just wanted to say a few things about my weekend:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Friday -after school i went to Ellen's where i did a book report why others talked about prom (Taylor Gang or Prom?), laid around, went to the boy's indoor game. had a very long, very nice, very clarifying talk with Jimmy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Saturday -woke up, worked at the jv tournament. that was actually fun. then soon after Mom, Ld, Momo, Ellen, and I all piled into the car and drove to our indoor game. where we played Jacob, Tyler, Mike, Hunter (who has never played soccer in his life), Jimmy, Johnny, and Molly. it was the funnest game ever! after we went to chickfila with the family. Garrett picked Wallstreet. no body paid it any attention. we all basically just got to sit around and hangout and talk. i loved every minute of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sunday -Jessica and I drove to Stillwater to visit Sam. i had a blast! i miss Sam so much its not even funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So, Jessica officially has a prom date!!!!!!! i am so excited and happy! my worries about prom are fading away and i am finally getting excited! i just need to get a date, which i am working on! i already have a dress that i adore. basically what i am trying to say is that i have the greatest life and the greatest family anyone could think to ask for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That is all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6240744786766642661?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6240744786766642661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-did-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6240744786766642661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6240744786766642661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-did-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc66xJD1_2w/TXV5Ix8W99I/AAAAAAAAAPY/wktM-FXpCig/s72-c/tumblr_lhm9ogxXbs1qbwmgoo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1520652047896790317</id><published>2011-02-25T17:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T18:25:22.269-08:00</updated><title type='text'>this is strictly a rant.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8XfR9zWS9Fk/TWhjkboGZVI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/5uIrwZJf4lY/s1600/l_0ca8c716a7104880b59722a5d1a5f17f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577817616040748370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8XfR9zWS9Fk/TWhjkboGZVI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/5uIrwZJf4lY/s400/l_0ca8c716a7104880b59722a5d1a5f17f.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i apologize if i sound hypocritical and stupid at anytime in this post, i just needed to get these things off of my chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;1) the last Rolling Stone i got in the mail had Justin &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bieber&lt;/span&gt; on the cover. i am not okay with this for a few reasons. one, i feel like the magazine is being brainwashed by the establishment. life is suppose to be about sticking it to the man &amp;amp; rock and roll. two, i feel like the magazine is selling out. i can't write for a washed up magazine that no one respects. i am sure that by the time i get my next one in the mail all these negative thoughts will be out of my head and i will be satisfied yet again. i just needed to get that off of my chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;2) i straight up wish i could control the things people posted on the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;. i am tired of seeing people posting pictures of things they can't explain or understand or even tell me what they mean in the slightest just because it is a picture from the 1960s. you don't look any cooler because you can quote &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jimi&lt;/span&gt; Hendrix or post a picture of multiple people in a field. i wish i could test everyone who thinks they are a "hippie" because sometimes they just look ignorant with the things they do. and i know that i am fascinated by the 60s and i realize i am not the only one who is. but when you are doing things and only listening to the music of the time to try and look cool and be in the stereotype, you just look dumb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;3) i get so frustrated with my daddy because he moans and groans about everything all of the time. and like i understand that our lives aren't the greatest and brightest in the world but they are worth living. i just get so sick of hearing him complain about every little thing that he encounters. i hate that sometimes he doesn't have any excuse not to go to work and he doesn't go anyway. i am not sure why i get so frustrated with him. maybe i just hold him to high expectations that are unrealistic. i do love my daddy very much and i hope that he never in his mind doubts for a second that i don't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;4) i am sick of people not having any respect for themselves. what you choose to do on your own time is your business and i respect that. i don't have anything against people and their choices. but i would rather not log onto &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; and see pictures of it. personally, i think it is tacky. i think if you feel the need to post pictures of what you do, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;youre&lt;/span&gt; doing it for attention not because of the effect it has on you after you swallow or exhale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;5) recently i have been becoming more and more aware that girls are uncomfortable with who they are and their bodies. i can not understand this at all. i just feel like i need to make an announcement of the loud speaker and tell every girl in my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;highschool&lt;/span&gt; that i am holding a seminar in the PAC and just preach to them about how being curvy is okay.&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/4266649506608271824-1520652047896790317?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1520652047896790317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-is-strictly-rant.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1520652047896790317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1520652047896790317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-is-strictly-rant.html' title='this is strictly a rant.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8XfR9zWS9Fk/TWhjkboGZVI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/5uIrwZJf4lY/s72-c/l_0ca8c716a7104880b59722a5d1a5f17f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1741234807315333573</id><published>2011-02-18T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T16:41:30.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INGtSCPEF8s/TV8JAxQdfdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CMrqWhqOYd0/s1600/tumblr_lg62curXrk1qfsjv3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 282px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575184772534992338" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INGtSCPEF8s/TV8JAxQdfdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CMrqWhqOYd0/s400/tumblr_lg62curXrk1qfsjv3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;this picture has nothing to do with this entry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;it. is. here. season. it is already soccer season. we have a tournament tomorrow. two games. the first time we have ever stepped on the field together in uniform in 2011. i am so nervous. well i feel like i have alot to share.. i survived the horrendous day of February 14th. Patrikkkk got me a buzz toy, which i find rather enjoyable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;so, nothing has happened this week. at all. last night consisted of random events. after school and practice me, ashhey, and juice went to the library which was actually really nice, i want to do that more often. then we proceeded to bueno. always a favourite. then we went to the basketball games which we left half way through the boys because we are all five years old and we got bored and hot. we ate icecream and ran into jimmy &amp;amp; his sister. which i am really glad because i love jimmy alot and i also got the cd's from him (finally) and will be putting them on my ipod very very soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;TOMORROW: wake up early just like it is a school day -_-. game at 9:00 and then another one at 1:30 (if i am not mistaken). then i have a indoor game sometime around the fifth hour of the after noon. Ld says she wants to get the family together tomorrow night. i really really really hope that happens. family &gt; everything. omg i can't wait for our indoor game tomorrow! but i am so nervous for this tournament D: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;the other half of the boys have an indoor game tonight in which i will be attending before i go home and i'm all like zzzzzz in my bed where the sheets are coming off by the wall. i hate when my sheets come off. ALSO: i have to write a descriptive essay for english about my favourite food. i am writing about a taco....surprised? i can't wait until it is finished! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;love.&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/4266649506608271824-1741234807315333573?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1741234807315333573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-picture-has-nothing-to-do-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1741234807315333573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1741234807315333573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-picture-has-nothing-to-do-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INGtSCPEF8s/TV8JAxQdfdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CMrqWhqOYd0/s72-c/tumblr_lg62curXrk1qfsjv3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8835931090714543632</id><published>2011-02-07T19:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T19:43:44.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1/7</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TVC50tnODSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/pZ-Rsp2nEV8/s1600/tumblr_lg77j5wdPG1qfrfyio1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 278px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571157054305733922" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TVC50tnODSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/pZ-Rsp2nEV8/s400/tumblr_lg77j5wdPG1qfrfyio1_500.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;so, i know i haven't been here in a while. really, honestly, not alot has happened. except i feel like i've moved to colorado because there is so much snow here. i got snowed in with Juice, Ld, and Ashhey. that was a blast. then i went over to Juice's for a couple of days. we had a indoor game saturday! its just me, Juice, Cari (kyle's gf), Ryan, Zach, Kyle, Robbie, another Ryan, and someone else. with Gman as our official coach. it was brilliant. i had SO MUCH FUN. then afterwards since it was K's birthday, we went to eat pizza after the game (we won by the way, 8-3 wut wut!). i felt like i was in rec soccer again, hahah. i love the boys so much. so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i can't help but agree with RyanBright about girls and their bodies. its such a sad issue that all these girls don't like themselves and the way they look. it hurts my heart. i am always and have always been fine with my body. i think women are beautiful in every way, shape, and form that they come in. its true. no women should ever have to look down at themselves for being "thick" or curvy. a woman should be confident about their figure. they should not let the media effect their thoughts about themselves. last year i did a research paper over anorexia and it just is a really heavy thing to think about -someone being THAT unhappy with themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;the other night my and my mom had a zombie marathon. five zombie movies in a row. we stayed up until 5 in the AM. i had a blast. i really am so thankful for my mom. no other mother would do that for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;LOL my mail hasn't come since Monday -_-.&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/4266649506608271824-8835931090714543632?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8835931090714543632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/17.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8835931090714543632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8835931090714543632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/02/17.html' title='1/7'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TVC50tnODSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/pZ-Rsp2nEV8/s72-c/tumblr_lg77j5wdPG1qfrfyio1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2109710553592096114</id><published>2011-01-15T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T18:36:20.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1/15</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TTJLxt6a17I/AAAAAAAAAOk/lh4R24h95RE/s1600/51d2sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 339px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562591807266281394" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TTJLxt6a17I/AAAAAAAAAOk/lh4R24h95RE/s400/51d2sm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; i want summer time. i went prom dress shopping today with Ashhey. we seriously were at the mall for a good four hours. feet = dead. but she got a dress and it looks pretty on her. Lord knows if she will change her mind or not because she has a ways to wait. i wonder if i will go to prom? i am sitting here alone on a saturday night listening to Wiz. i don't even know.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TTJT0Gah2KI/AAAAAAAAAOs/6NQ4wvzfEJk/s1600/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562600644296169634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TTJT0Gah2KI/AAAAAAAAAOs/6NQ4wvzfEJk/s400/untitled.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i felt this picture necessary, hahaha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;last night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; was with the fam (- jimmy), oh how i love them. same as always dinner &amp;amp; a movie. we actually watched a good movie this time (garrett wasn't there when it was picked out, go figure). after we watched The Town ( i recommend), kyle and i proceeded to throw down. i  got dominated. it is true that i do need to get good. i just really love the family. so so much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;my night is pretty much consisting of listening to Tom Petty and doing nothing. sometimes i like being alone. i just put lotion on my hands, i don't know what my problem is tonight. but today as we were coming home from the mall i was thinking and i really wish things had ended up different. i say "ended up" because that is the only way i know how to put it. i wish time would go back to a year and a half ago. no, i will not elaborate on this. i don't even know what i am saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2109710553592096114?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2109710553592096114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/115.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2109710553592096114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2109710553592096114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/115.html' title='1/15'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TTJLxt6a17I/AAAAAAAAAOk/lh4R24h95RE/s72-c/51d2sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7883432376251783518</id><published>2011-01-11T15:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T16:32:01.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;two things i feel should be a requirement to always have in your home: paper plates and ketchup, always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7883432376251783518?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7883432376251783518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/two-things-i-feel-should-be-requirement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7883432376251783518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7883432376251783518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/two-things-i-feel-should-be-requirement.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2156385863123310025</id><published>2011-01-01T17:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T18:32:53.574-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TR_OdS_IdeI/AAAAAAAAAOE/pjCSZ7dYHRc/s1600/tumblr_led8m94vdM1qzvmy7o1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557387467906643426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TR_OdS_IdeI/AAAAAAAAAOE/pjCSZ7dYHRc/s400/tumblr_led8m94vdM1qzvmy7o1_500.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;ohhhhh, new years. it really wierds me out to think that another year of my life has come and it has gone. i just spent another year with the most amazing &amp;amp; greatest people of my life. i am really not sure how to feel about 2011 yet. i mean, i wish i could write a really nice love note about 2010 but i just can't. i feel like instead of preparing me and growing me up for a new year, 2010 just made me more of a child. surprisingly, i am okay with this. so, i guess here is too another better year (yes, i know you caught this reference) &amp;amp; here is a picture to bring in the new year. because apparently 2011 is suppose to be a fresh new start, but i am going to make anything and everything i can of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i don't really have any new resolutions. just the same old same old. i hope i can quit picking my fingers blahblahblah. it won't happen. i know it won't and so does everyone else. i really feel like my resolutions should be 1) to be nicer to my parents and 2) to just say whatever is on my mind at any given moment. however, number two could have severe consequences. eh, what the f ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TR_Sm3D34-I/AAAAAAAAAOc/RyIcwm8jmtQ/s1600/168457_1373817724766_1811495759_702725_7652373_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557392030255539170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TR_Sm3D34-I/AAAAAAAAAOc/RyIcwm8jmtQ/s400/168457_1373817724766_1811495759_702725_7652373_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; i would just like to say also, (ignore my foul language if there is any) that &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;i am done with Your freaking bullcrap drama. and i am done with all of the words that you say. i'm done. i am so freaking done with biting my tounge. i am tired of you and your friends that do not even know me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;i am also tired of You playing both sides. eventually you will have to choose, and if you don't make the right choice your world is going to come crashing down around you.&lt;/span&gt; and honestly, i am not really sure if I will have any sympathy when that day comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2156385863123310025?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2156385863123310025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2156385863123310025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2156385863123310025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html' title='2011'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TR_OdS_IdeI/AAAAAAAAAOE/pjCSZ7dYHRc/s72-c/tumblr_led8m94vdM1qzvmy7o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8687482766118536995</id><published>2010-12-20T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T13:02:09.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQ-lUZh-C7I/AAAAAAAAAN4/aOBIT1gM4Z0/s1600/pollock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552838635440442290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQ-lUZh-C7I/AAAAAAAAAN4/aOBIT1gM4Z0/s400/pollock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;basically, my life is still a mess. always, always a mess. i was with the fam last night, they actually picked out a good movie. the one time i show up late. anyway we just mainly chit-chatted, about various (important) things that needed to be chatted about. e.i my h8 club and things. and i just am so, so grateful for my friends. anytime i need something to fall back on, i always fall back on them. trust fall. without them i would go insane.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&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/4266649506608271824-8687482766118536995?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8687482766118536995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/life.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8687482766118536995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8687482766118536995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/life.html' title='life.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQ-lUZh-C7I/AAAAAAAAAN4/aOBIT1gM4Z0/s72-c/pollock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8470728975830117555</id><published>2010-12-12T15:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T16:13:55.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my life as Kelsey.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQVgJq6IMvI/AAAAAAAAANw/EEjMbcb2vw4/s1600/tumblr_lb396qxWox1qarr5to1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQVgJq6IMvI/AAAAAAAAANw/EEjMbcb2vw4/s400/tumblr_lb396qxWox1qarr5to1_500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549947835057189618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;i have had the best weekend! allow me to lay it all out for you. going to california just came on my pandora, love.&lt;br /&gt;Friday. friday consisted of a jumble of plans. but in the end, it was just the best. me, Johnny, Garrett, Ashhey, and Lindsey went to bueno. and then we met Jimmy at the park. we get there, and he is running around on the jungle gym, by himself might i add, screaming. he is by himself. so, we all start playing and somehow the jungle gym turns into me and Ashhey's pirate ship. Garrett was the pirate that nobody can trust, but turns out to save everyone in the end. Jimmy was a troll, in the west wing, who had a pot of stew brewing. Lindsey was our zombie, she played the roll really good. Johnny was alien. he had acid spit. the zombie kept getting on our ship and trying to kill us, several times. Ashhey and i had to jump in the troll's stew and hide just so we wouldn't get eaten. this lasted for a good hour or so. all of us running and screaming for our lives. it was the funnest night i've had in a long time. seriously this is my life. then after our park adventures we went to cherry berry &amp;amp; Lindsey's house for a movie. -where J fell asleep. again.&lt;br /&gt;FAMILY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday. saturday was so awesome. i hung out with Chase all day. and we ate at the barrel and put together a puzzle, almost. and watched dead poet's society. and just talked and hung out and stuff. and i just really like him alot as a person. i do. idk. yeah, i am not sure how else to elaborate. and then on saturday night, Johnny, Ashhey and i went to Juice's house. Seinfeld Saturday! we are starting a new tradition. we ate tons of tacos and sweets and everything. it was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is the last week of school before Christmas break, and finals literally going to kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8470728975830117555?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8470728975830117555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-life-as-kelsey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8470728975830117555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8470728975830117555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-life-as-kelsey.html' title='my life as Kelsey.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TQVgJq6IMvI/AAAAAAAAANw/EEjMbcb2vw4/s72-c/tumblr_lb396qxWox1qarr5to1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1776739629709434482</id><published>2010-12-04T12:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T13:25:53.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPqiGChqbMI/AAAAAAAAANg/6CPpRLbM-t4/s1600/z202732338.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPqiGChqbMI/AAAAAAAAANg/6CPpRLbM-t4/s400/z202732338.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546924115701165250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;i decided that when i have a place of my own, i am going to buy tons and tons of coloured socks and dump them all in my sock drawer and then everyday pick up two random ones everyday. i actually really can't wait to have a place that i can live at by myself because that means i can decorate it in any fashion that i want too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its funny how things change. its funny how someone that meant so much to you at once point can just disappear, disappear and you almost forget that they were even there in the first place. a teacher that taught you so much and seemed like the wisest person to you at one time, gone. someone who's image got so twisted that it became unrecognizable. the one person who said that they would always be there for you, gone. -its just funny is all.&lt;br /&gt;its funny i don't even know you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/4266649506608271824-1776739629709434482?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1776739629709434482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-decided-that-when-i-have-place-of-my.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1776739629709434482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1776739629709434482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-decided-that-when-i-have-place-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPqiGChqbMI/AAAAAAAAANg/6CPpRLbM-t4/s72-c/z202732338.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8908344918031796535</id><published>2010-11-29T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T16:27:32.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPRAzlHSvRI/AAAAAAAAANY/BWZNocpSPPM/s1600/75104_1340758818314_1811495759_642957_7129485_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPRAzlHSvRI/AAAAAAAAANY/BWZNocpSPPM/s400/75104_1340758818314_1811495759_642957_7129485_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545128296080129298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the very essence of my life, right here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my life lately has just been a utter mess. seriously, i mess, i kid you not.&lt;br /&gt;things are changing and if they haven't already started too slowly, i know they are going to soon. i have been living simply and beautifully. however; i know i am about to be stressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have two book reports due in the span of two weeks. neither books have i read, of course. procrastinator. but somehow i am going to pull it off like a freakin' champ. so, two weeks and then christmas break. what what!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, Ashhey is moved into a new house. it doesn't feel like home yet. but i think in time it will? maybe that is my feeling of change. but i can't be sure. however, both me and my mermaid have new friends and its so exciting. life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, zach and garrett purchased my monroe for me and i am in love with it. everyone was really excepting (and by excepting e.i my aunt and uncle didn't say a single thing about it which represents disgust, my coach told me to get that booger out of my face which was actually really nice of him, and my grandma told me to take that thing out, and a million people telling me i have something on my face) better results than i could of hoped for! my mom hates it actually. i don't care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8908344918031796535?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8908344918031796535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/very-essence-of-my-life-right-here.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8908344918031796535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8908344918031796535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/very-essence-of-my-life-right-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TPRAzlHSvRI/AAAAAAAAANY/BWZNocpSPPM/s72-c/75104_1340758818314_1811495759_642957_7129485_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3734661183384524692</id><published>2010-11-16T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T16:58:28.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TOMn_cR3JsI/AAAAAAAAANI/R4lGTfOjl3s/s1600/73770_473377257368_811417368_5571471_1311000_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TOMn_cR3JsI/AAAAAAAAANI/R4lGTfOjl3s/s400/73770_473377257368_811417368_5571471_1311000_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540315937472194242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things are so different now. i am too tired to even do much of anything, or care much about anything anymore. i h8 the computer. i hate technology. i want summer. i want warm days and barefeet and cutoff jeans. i'm getting my monroe soonsoonsoonsoon. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3734661183384524692?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3734661183384524692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-are-so-different-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3734661183384524692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3734661183384524692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-are-so-different-now.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TOMn_cR3JsI/AAAAAAAAANI/R4lGTfOjl3s/s72-c/73770_473377257368_811417368_5571471_1311000_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2607852916641788927</id><published>2010-11-06T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T11:04:08.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNWXWfPr9pI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lJRAfNnzjfM/s1600/tumblr_lb9hbfxujw1qdbbywo1_250.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 442px; height: 295px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNWXWfPr9pI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lJRAfNnzjfM/s400/tumblr_lb9hbfxujw1qdbbywo1_250.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536497729522103954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;that was us last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2607852916641788927?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2607852916641788927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/that-was-us-last-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2607852916641788927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2607852916641788927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/that-was-us-last-night.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNWXWfPr9pI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lJRAfNnzjfM/s72-c/tumblr_lb9hbfxujw1qdbbywo1_250.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4426143196388419580</id><published>2010-11-02T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T15:15:15.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNCCF7Gl4GI/AAAAAAAAAMw/8-RWAinxzok/s1600/z214544027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNCCF7Gl4GI/AAAAAAAAAMw/8-RWAinxzok/s400/z214544027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535066980314636386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;my life lately, has just been one huge cycle of suckness. i wish i could even explain it. but i don't know if i can. i wake up, i go to school, i go to soccer, i come home, i mosey around, i go to bed, wake up, go to school, go to soccer, come home, mosey around, go to bed. and let's be honest, it really freaking sucks. i have no inspiration, i have no way of mixing things up. i miss what used to be and if i keep dwelling on that i am never going to move on with my life. i miss my bffoy, i miss the apartment, i miss chicken pot pie, i miss running to mcals with no shoes on and a longboard just because its right down the road, i miss james bond on the 64.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want my tattoo, badbadbad. i started a tattoo fund jar! i cut a hole in the top of a old pickle jar and its got somewhere around four dollars in it. i however, have stopped making progress. but it is okay because i've got quite awhile to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;school sucks, soccer sucks, but i am okay for now. &amp;amp; that is not a lie. i am okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after about ten minutes i just realized that i should edit this because i am not okay at all. everyday i feel like my life is nothing and i feel like it is getting nowhere. i don't know what to do. i have no idea. maybe i should print out some pictures of my cool friends and hang them up all over my room, maybe i should make a new friend, maybe i should apply myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only question i have now is why?&lt;br /&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/4266649506608271824-4426143196388419580?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4426143196388419580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-life-lately-has-just-been-one-huge.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4426143196388419580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4426143196388419580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-life-lately-has-just-been-one-huge.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TNCCF7Gl4GI/AAAAAAAAAMw/8-RWAinxzok/s72-c/z214544027.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4213496395959076913</id><published>2010-10-28T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T15:20:31.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TMnzV3xFC8I/AAAAAAAAAMo/bFiYhXe_kQE/s1600/z211651059.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TMnzV3xFC8I/AAAAAAAAAMo/bFiYhXe_kQE/s400/z211651059.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533221174273969090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't been able to sleep much these past few days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;. i am not even really sure why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt; it is a terrible feeling though &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;i hate it more than anything. laying in the dark makes you feel kind of hopeless, that is sad to say. maybe i'll get better. i really do not know what to say. other than the fact that this week @ school was a 4 day week &amp;amp; it felt like i'd been going for 6. truth is, i don't know what to write here. &amp;amp; i'm not even going to try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4213496395959076913?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4213496395959076913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-havent-been-able-to-sleep-much-these.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4213496395959076913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4213496395959076913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-havent-been-able-to-sleep-much-these.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TMnzV3xFC8I/AAAAAAAAAMo/bFiYhXe_kQE/s72-c/z211651059.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5754173753165065450</id><published>2010-10-18T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T15:51:19.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAmHEY_XI/AAAAAAAAAMg/N0phhz2rYzY/s1600/alkghu+061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529506203469151602" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAmHEY_XI/AAAAAAAAAMg/N0phhz2rYzY/s320/alkghu+061.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAmIdkDtI/AAAAAAAAAMY/I3Hj3Bwk8WI/s1600/untitleddsasdf.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529506203843170002" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAmIdkDtI/AAAAAAAAAMY/I3Hj3Bwk8WI/s320/untitleddsasdf.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAlwwosEI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/Sxb7CbpoEqI/s1600/alkghu+069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529506197480714306" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAlwwosEI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/Sxb7CbpoEqI/s320/alkghu+069.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i miss my braid so much. its official. i am putting it back in over fall break. ALSO. i have failed to blog about my weekend. which was enjoyable ---- to say the least. friday was fun, but most of my friends turned out to be douchebags that day. and then saturday man. what a day. i love bonfires and i love Ellen. saturday was so fun. sunday i proceeded to sleep until two p.m. and then did a book report like my life deepened on it, allllllllllllllllllllllday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;this week is going to freaking rock. today is monday, and it started out good. even in spanish (i think i'm really starting to like spanish class...i know i know). and plus i didn't have to run today! we just scrimmaged, which was a-okay with us! tuesday is blah. and WEDNES. i get to go with Jessica to get her tattoo &amp;amp; i can't even tell you how excited i am!!!!! seriously, i think i'm more excited than she is. i am also very happy because i will not be running any miles this week than Jesus. i will also be staying the night with Ashhey, wednes night because thursday is her birthday! not to mention her PARTY! and the party doesn't start till i walk in...... (okay poor Ke$ha reference...). friday i have no idea what is going to happen but i'm going to the Castle this weekenddd!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway that is about my week summed up in a nut-shell. i have a incredibly average life. and on that note i must bid whoever still reads this goodday. i hope you have a fantastic week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i want my monroe done so very badly for my birthday, sigh. &lt;/div&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/4266649506608271824-5754173753165065450?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5754173753165065450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-miss-my-braid-so-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5754173753165065450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5754173753165065450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-miss-my-braid-so-much.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLzAmHEY_XI/AAAAAAAAAMg/N0phhz2rYzY/s72-c/alkghu+061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1890693781064679989</id><published>2010-10-13T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T15:42:43.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shelby makes me happy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLYyEFoP6zI/AAAAAAAAAMI/fxdXags1qC8/s1600/8-1119.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527660638455720754" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLYyEFoP6zI/AAAAAAAAAMI/fxdXags1qC8/s320/8-1119.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am starting to become more and more Harry Potter obsessed, once again. and a also want to say that i love Luna Lovegood. i adore her. i really need to get a move on with the seventh book or i am not going to finish it by the movie due date or i am screwed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i have to run a mile everyday in soccer. and i know what youre thinking "a mile? sooo easy". okay but its really not. for uno, i am NOT IN SHAPE AT ALL. and second off i play in goal!!!! its not like i need to be good at running four laps around a track (being last every freaking time). so basically, i am the last one to finish every time and despite how you might feel in this situation i am perfectly okay with being the last one to finish at a time that varies from 9 minutes and 59 seconds (yaya, pathetic i know) to a time of 9 minutes and 52 seconds. and everyday i dwell upon the fact that i am for sure going to run a mile today. it makes my stomach ache and i had to take a tum today. not to mention my period is M.I.A and i can't remember if i am suppose to have one this month or not. oops. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;thank the dear Lord its wednes and tomorrow is thursday. and the day after that is friday. on which i will be attending the Owasso football game in Stillwater compliments of Jessica and her family. i will once again be eating Joe's for the second time in two weeks! and then the following day (Saturday), i will be attending Jessica's senior photos with TSWIFT and Sam. thoroughly pumped. and Sunday is Lindsey's shoot..but let's be honest. i am not sure if i am willing to get up at the asscrack of dawn two days in a row. this girl NEEDS her sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i went to the dentist today at 7:10. mom makes my appointments before school that way i don't miss a single second of it (go figure). my teeth are still hurting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-1890693781064679989?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1890693781064679989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/shelby-makes-me-happy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1890693781064679989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1890693781064679989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/shelby-makes-me-happy.html' title='Shelby makes me happy.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLYyEFoP6zI/AAAAAAAAAMI/fxdXags1qC8/s72-c/8-1119.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8559505690878593310</id><published>2010-10-11T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T16:39:44.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>last dance with Mary Jane.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLOczb5rQMI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7-geOUiS5QE/s1600/tumblr_l9uhviA6u51qdewr8o1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 309px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526933575190659266" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLOczb5rQMI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7-geOUiS5QE/s400/tumblr_l9uhviA6u51qdewr8o1_500.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am one heck of a adventure. this weekend was marvelous! on Friday i attended the football game where we (of course) got beat by union. but i had some fun being with my family of friends. and i got too see my b who i am in love with! i miss her sososososo mucho. and basically i just had fun being a kid. a loud, obnoxious, fun kid. Saturday held great joy for me. and for that i applaud you Saturday. i attended the fair with Jessica, but first went to Cherry Berry, and we basically just caused shenanigans for a good five hours. &amp;amp; Sunday held Sillwater. it was so much fun! i had the best burger @ Joe's. and i love Sam's dorm, its so cute and very sam-y. we went to Orange Leaf too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i have ate entirely too much "frozen yogurt". so here goes: Cherry Berry vs. Orange Leaf. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;round one: i think that they both taste exactly the same to be honest. if i had to pick one though i think i'd go with cb (and no i am not being biased just cause Ashhey works there. i'm not i swear) even though their yogurt is ice cold. its something about the thickness of it that i like though, seeing as i chew my icecream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i just realized earlier how big of a freak i am. i am a teenage girl who is suppose to be lady-like and grown-up. i pretend i am a princess, my bed is a boat. i like dragons and zombies and mortal kombat. immature kelsey &gt; mature kelsey. my crush on Tom Petty is starting to become greater and greater.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;one more time to kill the pain.&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/4266649506608271824-8559505690878593310?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8559505690878593310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/last-dance-with-mary-jane.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8559505690878593310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8559505690878593310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/last-dance-with-mary-jane.html' title='last dance with Mary Jane.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLOczb5rQMI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7-geOUiS5QE/s72-c/tumblr_l9uhviA6u51qdewr8o1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-635099917887645174</id><published>2010-10-09T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T11:55:15.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC0HZYuydI/AAAAAAAAALg/eLLB1YtsZ58/s1600/61043_1280037140310_1811495759_544659_7154095_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526114781950298578" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC0HZYuydI/AAAAAAAAALg/eLLB1YtsZ58/s400/61043_1280037140310_1811495759_544659_7154095_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;there they are. that's my family. give or take a few ppl, of course. but, yeah, that's them. i can't say enough about them. each and every one of them is beautiful. granted we're all a bunch of douchebags that can't even get along half the time. we've been together for almost three years now. and i honestly think the majority of us will be together even when we're thirty. it sucks to think that they're all going off to college in less than a year. i am going to be separated from them and there is nothing i can do to avoid that. my heart will be split in 10 different ways, whether they know it or not. i am going to be broken into ten different pieces. but i will have Molly, thank goodness for that. i am going to be okay. our connections will survive. we're going to do great things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i will live in my grandma &amp;amp; grandpa's house when i am a grown up. there is no doubt about it. it will happen. i was sitting out on the patio with them earlier. they're so beautiful. the sky was so blue and the leaves were so green and i couldn't help thinking "this is where i am meant to be". and it is. &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;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5pkV-OVI/AAAAAAAAALo/a7foQK_0ArA/s1600/62458_1278498101835_1811495759_541076_438471_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526120866565208402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5pkV-OVI/AAAAAAAAALo/a7foQK_0ArA/s400/62458_1278498101835_1811495759_541076_438471_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5qTe1hzI/AAAAAAAAALw/RBm6NdF-IpA/s1600/46906_156082857736890_100000055299782_477505_7223038_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526120879218853682" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5qTe1hzI/AAAAAAAAALw/RBm6NdF-IpA/s400/46906_156082857736890_100000055299782_477505_7223038_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5rEUiCgI/AAAAAAAAAL4/N1A8F7p7ZEY/s1600/47798_1178673844857_1768486959_328305_3106769_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526120892328970754" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC5rEUiCgI/AAAAAAAAAL4/N1A8F7p7ZEY/s400/47798_1178673844857_1768486959_328305_3106769_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/4266649506608271824-635099917887645174?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/635099917887645174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/there-they-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/635099917887645174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/635099917887645174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/there-they-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TLC0HZYuydI/AAAAAAAAALg/eLLB1YtsZ58/s72-c/61043_1280037140310_1811495759_544659_7154095_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6142728927553173501</id><published>2010-10-06T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T11:57:06.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"We now present the seventh and final installment of the epic tale of Harry Potter."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6142728927553173501?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6142728927553173501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-now-present-to-you-seventh-and-final.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6142728927553173501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6142728927553173501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-now-present-to-you-seventh-and-final.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4467851706777810283</id><published>2010-09-30T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T15:26:29.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>truth is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TKUA_5MqB1I/AAAAAAAAALQ/wanZ23qk6Ws/s1600/z82656286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522821615725446994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TKUA_5MqB1I/AAAAAAAAALQ/wanZ23qk6Ws/s320/z82656286.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; i'm like a bird, i'll only fly away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am nothing extremely special, i am just kelsey. i know exactly what i am capable of and quite frankly that scares me. it scares me because if my life ends up in a dumpster somewhere, in a alley behind a chinese restaurant, i know exactly whose fault it will be.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i don't like opening up to people but if given the chance, i'd rip open my rib cage and let the sun shine through me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i want wings. i want to soar. i want to go outside and lay in the front yard. i want to own a pond. i want scars just to prove i've done something while i am here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;my life is broken record and my eyes are windows. and one day i am going to be that girl. one day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am not going to be a waste. one day i am going to really be somebody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4467851706777810283?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4467851706777810283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/truth-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4467851706777810283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4467851706777810283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/truth-is.html' title='truth is.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TKUA_5MqB1I/AAAAAAAAALQ/wanZ23qk6Ws/s72-c/z82656286.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5584036204021139995</id><published>2010-09-26T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T11:04:32.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quicksand. Lola.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;dear [name of a good friend here],&lt;br /&gt;i honestly feel stuck. there is something inside me telling me that i am never going to get away from here; that i will amount to nothing and to nobody. but the other half of me keeps saying that that is not a true statement. i am not sure if this is a big deal or not but its something i have been struggling with over the past week. i am also not sure if this is a cry out for help either. friend, i need something to take my mind off of this.&lt;br /&gt;i feel so helpless. i do. like i'm sinking into a black hole, its dragging me further and further down. and waves are crashing on top of me and i am going further and further under. and sometimes i think i make myself feel this way. i think i subconsciously create feelings like this.&lt;br /&gt;there are two people i wish to tell [what i previously wrote] too. one of them i know will read it and the other might never get a chance to know these words were meant for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note: i successfully went to two concerts in one week! Rush on tuesday and Tom Petty with a side of ZZ Top on thursday. and it was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to paint my finger nails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-5584036204021139995?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5584036204021139995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/quicksand-lola.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5584036204021139995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5584036204021139995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/quicksand-lola.html' title='Quicksand. Lola.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-841039015002571818</id><published>2010-09-19T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:09:05.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gooddaytoyou.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TJZ-9Zs-zHI/AAAAAAAAALI/gn9k3bBghVY/s1600/z213473269.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518737986725792882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TJZ-9Zs-zHI/AAAAAAAAALI/gn9k3bBghVY/s320/z213473269.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;i would give anything to go back in time and grow up with my dad and his friends. anything. and i know that may seem foolish, its not. they have the best, most incredible, hilarious stories to tell. honestly, they could write a book. and i really think that without my daddy and the friends he has, being the way that they are, i wouldn't be the same girl i am today. all of them have been a father to me at some point in time, or another. i am so thankful for them. i will never tell them that of course, but i am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;it's funny how things change. time changes. the seasons change. clothes change. but i don't believe people change. i think people put on a mask some days, but at the end of the day we all lay down in our beds that we've made, the same as we woke up. that morning, and the day before, and the day before. plain and simple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;if you want to argue with me, go ahead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;my month of september calender has almost every little box filled up! I LOVE FALL. my events for this evening will most likely be as follows: getting some RyanBright time, running by Jd's to get some magazines and starting on a hella good birthday gift (which i will not say on here incase the person it is intended for were to discover and find out!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;fin!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-841039015002571818?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/841039015002571818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/gooddaytoyou.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/841039015002571818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/841039015002571818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/gooddaytoyou.html' title='gooddaytoyou.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TJZ-9Zs-zHI/AAAAAAAAALI/gn9k3bBghVY/s72-c/z213473269.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3974258486639198778</id><published>2010-09-13T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T15:27:02.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it's been ages.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TI_2nL62ikI/AAAAAAAAALA/kKAjdgKRLro/s1600/z215589293.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 226px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516899221627112002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TI_2nL62ikI/AAAAAAAAALA/kKAjdgKRLro/s320/z215589293.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i am in desperate need of a adventure, a story book, a picnic basket, a open sky, a camera, and a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i should be at the park today. but instead, i find myself sitting here. thinking of things. my mind is outside and not held captive in this little room. as fall sets in, i can't help but get excited. Sept-Nov &gt; any other months of the year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am in the midst of making a book. and oh how i can't wait for it to be done.&lt;br /&gt;maybe when i will find myself somewhere along the way. maybe i am just not going to look.&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i want to type things i've previously said, that way i can show the blogging world, (well what little of a world i have, with whoever reads this) but then i just feel repetitive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;idk. it happened again the other night. i got the feeling that i just never want to leave here. i want to stay right here. right here in these moments forever. i was with Ashhey, driving around in her grandpa's stupid old truck, Lucky. hahah and yet again another country song was what did it. a country song came on the radio and my heart was bound in chains, here forever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;yu were a child crawling on your knees toward it; means the world to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3974258486639198778?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3974258486639198778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-been-ages.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3974258486639198778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3974258486639198778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-been-ages.html' title='it&apos;s been ages.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TI_2nL62ikI/AAAAAAAAALA/kKAjdgKRLro/s72-c/z215589293.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3203434567354642013</id><published>2010-08-30T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T17:57:11.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>!@#$%^</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THxRaafR54I/AAAAAAAAAK4/PtuEPh4yzYQ/s1600/tumblr_l2h7lh1OxM1qzcso1o1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511369558223611778" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THxRaafR54I/AAAAAAAAAK4/PtuEPh4yzYQ/s320/tumblr_l2h7lh1OxM1qzcso1o1_500.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i took this from the notes i took in history today:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. What are you afraid of?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to be completely honest, i don't know what i am afraid of. i am not afraid of the cliche answer. i am not scared too take a chance and get hurt, i am not scared of experiencing something new. nor am i terrified of being on my own. What exactly am i afraid of? i am afraid of fairy tales not being real. i am afraid of not finding someone who shares the same beliefs as me. i don't want the surface of my own wold to be broken by rules and judgments, i want it to be broke by someone diving in and trying to see it like i do. i am afraid that i won't come across someone in my life that will take my hand, and just let me be me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. What is holding yu back from exploring?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Myself. i am holding me back from exploring. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. Could you be wrong about what is out there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;i could be, but i am not going to be. the possiblities to discover are endless. i am not looking for something somebody else has already seen. i want to know what lives under the rocks in my backyard. i want to see inside the mind of a flower. i am going to push the limits of what other people have found, i'm going to discover something more. something in the eyes of a child. my mind is a blank canvas, so therefore; i am not going to be wrong about anything i may find. but, i very well could be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4. Why is exploring easier for some than others?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;sometimes the act and want to explore is natural. i think it just depends on the person really. i think the reason that some people don't explore is because they would have to step out of their comfort zone to do so. maybe they are scared of what they might find?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5. What do you need to go and find out about that might change the rest of your life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;i need to find my roots, all the way through history. i need to find my wings. i need to dig up old memories and clean out my closet for new ones. i need to find beauty in things that other people disregard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3203434567354642013?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3203434567354642013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3203434567354642013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3203434567354642013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title='!@#$%^'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THxRaafR54I/AAAAAAAAAK4/PtuEPh4yzYQ/s72-c/tumblr_l2h7lh1OxM1qzcso1o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2269144593822252260</id><published>2010-08-27T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T16:27:35.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THgyethaddI/AAAAAAAAAKg/CgbUHFP3u_0/s1600/bffoy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 351px; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510209647285007826" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THgyethaddI/AAAAAAAAAKg/CgbUHFP3u_0/s320/bffoy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i am sleepy. and as a result of that i am restless. i want to reconnect with someone. two someones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i miss my Jw. i haven't seen her in what seems like years. a million years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i really need to call Eli. but i don't think i have the courage right now and i don't even know why. i miss him a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the high of the first moments of going back to school with all my friends has already worn off, i held onto it longer than usual. a week &amp;amp; a half -thats a new record. i am falling back into my same routine from last year, and the year before that, and again. i absolutely hate it. i can think of so many better ways to spend my time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;let this be a little secret no one needs to know we're feeling higher and higher and higher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;something happened that day, i was with you. and we were just being. nothing too special. but something happened. and i got the worst case of good butterflies. and i swore on my life i would remember and hold onto that feeling, but i would never get used to it. i wanted to collect all those butterflies and hold them in a jar. and that is exactly what i did. i caged them up, along with my memories to hold on too. and everytime i was lonely or i was needy or i was sad or scared, i allowed myself to open the jar and let them out but only for a moment. but soon enough the butterflies were not content with being locked inside of their little jar anymore. they were fighting to get out. and they were desperate. i couldn't take them anymore. so i stomped them out. i tried the best i could to let everything that i had go. i destroyed the butterflies the best that i could at the time. but in doing so, i got careless. and not long after i rid myself i them only did i notice i had missed some. so, sometimes i visit that sunshine day, looking into your beautiful face. and swimming in your eyes. and i still feel a little twinge of a butterfly wing. something to remind me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;right now i should be on a swing. or texting Bffoy about getting together tonight. i want a taco. i want so many things in my life right now. i know i will never have all of them at one moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THhIooG1NXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/oWUSAjEnBlU/s1600/2009.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 343px; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234006885840242" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THhIooG1NXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/oWUSAjEnBlU/s320/2009.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that girl there, she's still chasing the moon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2269144593822252260?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2269144593822252260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-am-sleepy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2269144593822252260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2269144593822252260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-am-sleepy.html' title=''/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THgyethaddI/AAAAAAAAAKg/CgbUHFP3u_0/s72-c/bffoy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-768748185249866208</id><published>2010-08-22T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T14:23:34.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Security Blanket.</title><content type='html'>last night, i sat in the middle of my best friend's floor. singing at the top of my lungs while playing mario kart for a near five hours. 64 courses. i couldn't think of a better way to spend a saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;at first when i walk into my memories, i am blinded by the present day whiteness of the walls. the emptiness as a whole. no recollection of family living, just a few pieces of furniture tossed around here and there. what a terrible first impression. but once i make my way one layer deeper my eyes feast upon something new...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a monster. something terrible. something terrible and unavoidable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am not quite sure how to finish this post now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THGVL2go3bI/AAAAAAAAAKY/1z-mhDnTrQg/s1600/2dsfxnc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508347850094337458" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THGVL2go3bI/AAAAAAAAAKY/1z-mhDnTrQg/s320/2dsfxnc.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-768748185249866208?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/768748185249866208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/security-blanket.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/768748185249866208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/768748185249866208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/security-blanket.html' title='Security Blanket.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/THGVL2go3bI/AAAAAAAAAKY/1z-mhDnTrQg/s72-c/2dsfxnc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8049344259724433938</id><published>2010-08-20T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T14:58:18.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackbird.</title><content type='html'>yu were only waiting for this moment to be free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TG7tS_tKE3I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/dFxbIqWV9M8/s1600/41191_151342811544228_100000055299782_447607_3978902_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 253px; HEIGHT: 366px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507600304914961266" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TG7tS_tKE3I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/dFxbIqWV9M8/s320/41191_151342811544228_100000055299782_447607_3978902_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so, i'm a big high-schooler now. i wish i could say my views of school have changed. sadly. they haven't. i still lay in bed every night until odd hours of the morning, just like i did last year. and i don't want to go more than ever. HOWEVER; i absolutely adore being at school with all of my friends again! it takes a load off, a little. (and by friends i mean the people not in my grade). i also have decided i am going to count down the days to the weekend each week! with some hope that by doing this i will be just a little more okay with school. unfortunately i have spanish first hour..that will be interesting i presume. but other than that everything else is a-okay. off-season starts on monday. and i am probably never going to have time to get near a computer for recreational purposes, much less blog about me life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i still can't believe that we are back in school. last night should have been summer. i was with Jw and we were just playing in the creek, taking pictures, and we went for a walk to kum and go and we just sat there and chatted with some people for a couple of hours and then around nine we walked back home. the air felt so good against my skin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;if yu don't hear from me in a while, you know why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TG7sbxc_enI/AAAAAAAAAKI/Kj_GB7H-98s/s1600/2eat3df.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8049344259724433938?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8049344259724433938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/blackbird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8049344259724433938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8049344259724433938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/blackbird.html' title='Blackbird.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TG7tS_tKE3I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/dFxbIqWV9M8/s72-c/41191_151342811544228_100000055299782_447607_3978902_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3265470776883684805</id><published>2010-08-14T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T13:36:18.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Expression.</title><content type='html'>i have words that need to get out of my system.&lt;br /&gt;here's to you,&lt;br /&gt;i want to tell you thanks. for what, i can't exactly clarify. thank you for sharing your smile with me. and thank you for putting colour into my life. thank you for making me feel. thank you for waiting on me and being patient til i found the courage to let you into my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; everything else along those lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everytime i start typing one of these. i can't finish. i give up. i quit. i'm done. i'll try again later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3265470776883684805?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3265470776883684805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/expression.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3265470776883684805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3265470776883684805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/expression.html' title='Expression.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1132456398643617192</id><published>2010-08-08T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T10:55:43.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Five.</title><content type='html'>-skipping day two because quite frankly. it does not exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;My Dreams-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;my dreams. this could be the topic of alot of controversy. this is me, stripped down to nothing. this is me standing butt naked about to skinny dip in the lake. my dreams. i could give the generic answer: grow up, go to college, get a great job, get married, have a nice house, and pretty kids. but luckily, i'm not so gung-hoe on those dreams. to be completely honest with yu, i have dreams because i feel obligated too. believe me, i would lay around become nobody and amount to nothing if i could. but i am not allowed because i am "better than that". here are the dreams i have made for myself, and the dreams people have made for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i dream of living in a white house, with a wrap-around porch, and rocking chairs. a stream in the backyard. i dream of a thunderstorm that i am caught up in. a storm where i can sit on that very porch in those very chairs and watch the lightning. holding my lovers hand as i do so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i also dream of picking up and moving to California. it is there that i will longboard and surf all day. mark my words, one day, i will write out of California. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;no, i do not know where i will be in five years because i can not tell you where i will be in five hours. but i can tell you where i think it would be nice to land after i jump out of this plane. i have this vision of me, being older. (i will not say i have visions of me grown up, because truth is, i refuse to grow up. and i am not going to do so.) in my vision i have at least four tattoos, my clothes and hair are still outrageous and i am in a office building. but it isn't your boring average office building. it has a nice view and there are really cool posters on the wall. in this vision i am writing. a journalist. the Rolling Stone. and that vision is what drives me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;my heart lays with writing and so i guess you could call that my dream. me. my soul. my dreams. my drives. my passions. my heart. they are hidden beneath my words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;my dreams also consist of staying close and in touch with my family of friends over these next few years. i want to write them letters and see them from time to time. and catch up in a small coffee shop. i want to be able to reach out to them, when i need them the most.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-1132456398643617192?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1132456398643617192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/day-five.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1132456398643617192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1132456398643617192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/day-five.html' title='Day Five.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6156414325104119412</id><published>2010-08-07T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T13:41:58.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>your words spread hope like fire.</title><content type='html'>i am at a loss for words. i think it is because i realize that you have said the same words over and over and over. they are like loose change you find on the ground. you throw it out, give it away, cash it in. but, they never really leave you. you never really mean them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my mind is a sponge. or more like a wet rag. it absorbs things, but only the things it wants to absorb. but mostly it just spreads the mess around. confused by what the counter top looks like after the clean up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;yesterday i was driving down the back roads with Ashhey, singing some country song when i realized that i didn't want any of this to change. i want to be right there next to my best friend, listening to music singing at the top of our lungs, on our way to go swing. forever. i don't want to go to school, and i don't want to go to college and drift away from her. i want here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i guess to make sense of myself i will attempt to do this thirty days whatever. here are the ones i'll be doing. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. my best friend. 2. my crush. 5. my dreams. 6. a stranger. 7. my ex. 9. someone i wish i could meet. 14. someone i've drifted from. 15. the person i miss the most. 16. someone that isn't in my state. 18. the person i wish i could be. 19. someone on my mind. 20. who broke my heart the worst. 24. who gave me my favourite memory. 26. my last pinky promise. 28. someone who changed my life. 29. someone i want to tell everything too. 30. my reflection in the mirror. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a few of those are still ify. but i guess i could start with one right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TF3DbdnIIYI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6PQH8MoopO0/s1600/2cnbc0n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 311px; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502769196289237378" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TF3DbdnIIYI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6PQH8MoopO0/s320/2cnbc0n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TF3D37CW5qI/AAAAAAAAAKA/r7rfCB-dYUE/s1600/2zjl7nk.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Emily keeps my feet on the ground. the first and last person i talk to everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she is going to be with me forever, and i know that for a fact. we have traveled the unknown road of our lives this far together, and that will continue. i am not sure what all i should say about her because nothing will do her justice. not only can i say she is my best friend, but i can feel it too.&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/4266649506608271824-6156414325104119412?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6156414325104119412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/your-words-spread-hope-like-fire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6156414325104119412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6156414325104119412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/your-words-spread-hope-like-fire.html' title='your words spread hope like fire.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TF3DbdnIIYI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6PQH8MoopO0/s72-c/2cnbc0n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2423366668587734028</id><published>2010-08-02T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T18:11:25.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>into the ocean,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;end it all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i want to end things. i want to end all my doubt and i want to end all my worry and i want to end all everything. i want to put a end to all my troubles. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when i look around at my family of friends, i can't help but wonder. what makes them tick? do they feel how i feel? how do they see the world around them? do they see like i do? do they keep things hidden like i do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i have let different pieces of the puzzle i would call myself in the hands of different people. i am scared. i am terrified. i am scared that the hands are going to rip me apart. i fear rejection. so much to the point where i won't even ask the question. i am so scared that i am giving up, unwillingly. if i am so scared to live, then what?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i wonder what Journee Soleli dreams about? i wonder what i dream about? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i love when i come to the realization and the lightbulb of my brain goes off. today it was that maybe my love was different. i think it was for a different person. but you can't stop change, or can yu. today i felt for the first time that if i let go, and i just fell. i felt like i would be okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;now if yu'll excuse me, i'm off to watch some shark week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFdsNnulkcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/BVd7MCZP0D8/s1600/2e3ddh5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500984451114832322" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFdsNnulkcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/BVd7MCZP0D8/s320/2e3ddh5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2423366668587734028?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2423366668587734028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/into-ocean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2423366668587734028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2423366668587734028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/08/into-ocean.html' title='into the ocean,'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFdsNnulkcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/BVd7MCZP0D8/s72-c/2e3ddh5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1429712695064359308</id><published>2010-07-31T16:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T17:31:50.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>swing-set.</title><content type='html'>i feel like this might be me letting go.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like this is me being done with here. i want to be there.&lt;br /&gt;there is where you lie, whoever you may be.&lt;br /&gt;i hope whoever you are can love me for who i am.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like this is me trying not to care.&lt;br /&gt;because not caring would be so much easier than the feelings i'm going to have when i leave my people and my place here.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like this is my heart wanting something more than this.&lt;br /&gt;because this is not a place for a heart such as mine.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like i can make it on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if there is anyone out there, who can answer any of my questions about life. holler at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-1429712695064359308?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1429712695064359308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/swing-set.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1429712695064359308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1429712695064359308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/swing-set.html' title='swing-set.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7670021653903689459</id><published>2010-07-21T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T21:11:15.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tattoo.</title><content type='html'>"control yourself take only what you need from it."&lt;br /&gt;it's like i can't wait for everything here to be a memory. every memory will be in that lyric.&lt;br /&gt;the memories when everything was better than good. and when i see it, i'll go back to those times. i'm going to remember how everything crashed and burned after things were better than good. i'll remember the crash and i'll remember i made it out alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everytime i sit down here to think, i catch my breath. it is happening right now. -like i said. memories. it feels like i am having a sit down lunch with my past. especially today. mainly today. today, i couldn't even finish my dinner. one of those kinds of days. wanna know a secret? i got butterflys in my stomach today. i think they were the good kind. i know exactly why i got them i'm just not sure if i'm ready to admit it to myself, yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;half of my brain is trying to tell me i can't psychically let go. and the other half just calls me fucking pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7670021653903689459?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7670021653903689459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/tattoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7670021653903689459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7670021653903689459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/tattoo.html' title='tattoo.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3467765925665195676</id><published>2010-07-04T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:44:20.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>give me symphonies.</title><content type='html'>my soul is fifty years old. my heart is heavy. and its wanting and its thirsty. i am homesick for a place i can't even call my home yet. i miss my best friend, any and all of them in a sense. i'm out, and i'm alone. i can not collect my thoughts, which i was so honestly prepared to give. i can't collect them because they are lost in the salt water of my brain. my brain is just a fish bowl. idk. i am getting seasick. sitting here and typing on this makes me remember everything. good. bad. everything. it makes the memories so clear that i almost want to stop. "how can typing do such a thing to you?". but it does. it does it to me and i allow it to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to liberate someone. it almost feels like a need. maybe by freeing someone else, i will be able to free myself. i am held captive. i purposely do things that i know are bad for myself. and i'm not talking about eating too much junk food or anything of the extreme. i just mean, i make decisions that i know will end up causing me pain in the end. things that hurt my heart or that bring me down. i don't know why. i have a theory to this though. i cause myself pain, to remind myself that i'm still alive. not alive in the sense of dead. but that i am still here. i am alive, and i am real. and the pain is alive and it is real too, and i have to learn a way to deal with it. not just me, everyone. that theory applys to mankind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't see how i am related to anyone in this day and age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have found a group of friend boys that i adore being around because it's easy and i don't get judged on anything (wellll). i could be with them everyday of my life and i honestly don't think i would get bored. not even for a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am on a mission to achieve peace in my heart and in my life. my eyes have been hazy for a long, long time. to reach my goal i really, really, really need to let go of so many things that i have been holding onto for so long. i feel as though i am so ready to let go of these things, but at the same time i am terrified to do so. but i am always working on it. i think i am making progress. its a day by day thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am breathing. i am thinking. i am living. in terms of music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3467765925665195676?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3467765925665195676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/give-me-symphonies.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3467765925665195676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3467765925665195676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/07/give-me-symphonies.html' title='give me symphonies.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4565209431971650373</id><published>2010-04-11T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T16:56:27.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hey soul sister.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;do you ever feel like life is moving really fast? i feel like that today. i want to live a slow life when i'm older. not like just dragging on, but you know. i don't know how to explain. i'm really bad at trying to explain myself! i get tongue tied. i am a wrap around porch, with a dozen rocking chairs. i am a still afternoon followed by a stormy night. i am watching the lighning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4565209431971650373?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4565209431971650373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/04/hey-soul-sister.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4565209431971650373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4565209431971650373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/04/hey-soul-sister.html' title='hey soul sister.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4269844771172461580</id><published>2010-03-14T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T18:27:09.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As of Late.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S52KC9A2HxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/jwzXNneASDE/s1600-h/z125463741.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448662907530649362" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S52KC9A2HxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/jwzXNneASDE/s320/z125463741.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;things have changed. and they've changed alot. i don't feel much anymore honestly. and i'm sorry i know this post is WAY over due. its spring break so i will be everywhere. i am everywhere anyways. i don't know what the deal is. i don't know what to say. i don't know what to say to you. i don't know how to start a conversation with you anymore. it must be a relief to you, is all i can think. to know that you've gotten away. and i don't have energy to chase you. maybe its time for me to stop fighting, or maybe i stopped fighting a long time ago. i can't say. i've lost myself. and i don't know how i should feel about that. i need someone with my view. i try to fall back on you, but youre not there to catch me. and noone is anymore. so i'm just keeping up the balance as best i can. i'm thinking of Shelby as i write this. and the first thing i do when i get done is text her and tell her i FINALLY  blogged. i can't stop listening to Kid Cudi and i'm going to go out and invest in his cd. things are changing. the trees tell me so. and i'm going to change. my heart will evolve soon. and thats all i can hope for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4269844771172461580?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4269844771172461580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/03/as-of-late.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4269844771172461580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4269844771172461580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/03/as-of-late.html' title='As of Late.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S52KC9A2HxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/jwzXNneASDE/s72-c/z125463741.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6422808537611260513</id><published>2010-02-13T18:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T18:29:56.597-08:00</updated><title type='text'>riot girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i think i have a big fat reason to be angry at the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so i'm going to take that reason and i'm going to use it against all of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;forget you, hate you, take you, love you, judge you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;thats all for now. i don't have this kind of time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6422808537611260513?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6422808537611260513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/02/riot-girl.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6422808537611260513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6422808537611260513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/02/riot-girl.html' title='riot girl.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3782932279102033373</id><published>2010-01-17T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T17:57:09.817-08:00</updated><title type='text'>story of a lonely guy (girl?).</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S1OVXKSyIoI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/pszSXBggF8U/s1600-h/apple2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427846201044247170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S1OVXKSyIoI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/pszSXBggF8U/s320/apple2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;- meet my best friend. meet half my heart. meet my smile. _______ moving on. i'm still not sure on how to feel. it was the perfect day for swinging today, i let go of today. i feel like i've been letting go of alot or maybe i'm just sitting back for a while. i think that is it. the sky is very dark. i've been missing the sun alot. unfortunately i am out of words. "8 oclock monday night and i'm waitin to finally talk to a girl a little cooler than me her name is Nona she's a rocker w/ a nose ring". i love you. i do, i do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3782932279102033373?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3782932279102033373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-lonely-guy-girl.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3782932279102033373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3782932279102033373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-lonely-guy-girl.html' title='story of a lonely guy (girl?).'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S1OVXKSyIoI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/pszSXBggF8U/s72-c/apple2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6259372235923312370</id><published>2010-01-14T15:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T16:31:28.055-08:00</updated><title type='text'>oh my oh my oh my heart.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S0-3S3-QMKI/AAAAAAAAAII/TnWPWch32J4/s1600-h/z181867214.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426757610895323298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S0-3S3-QMKI/AAAAAAAAAII/TnWPWch32J4/s320/z181867214.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;i don't know where to start. and i don't know how to feel. but i am tired. tired of dealing with everyone's crap. and of people who aren't themselves. people who think they're hot shots and say things and talk alot of game. mainly just people in general. i'm really, very unsure of how i should feel these days. my emotions are just a roller coaster. there are some things i want so so bad. my arms aren't long enough for those things yet, but i've got time. youve got alot of time.. when time is laid out in front of you. my words seem to be disappearing. i absolutely hate talking out loud, and try to only do so when i have too. i can't hear my heart because my music is too loud, &amp;amp; its whispering. i find it really fascinating that music can turn my mood like that. *snaps* music effects me, infects me. actually. "how poetic". oops. look around you. do you see the beauty? i see it. its in everything and its captivating and its in you. you shine brighter than the sun. (you might feel i'm rambling. but i'm not) i miss the sun so much. i miss driving around with the windows down and i miss wearing shorts that are too short and i miss not wearing shoes i'd give anything at all to feel the earth on my feet i want to go pick moss off of trees and i want to make sun-tea and i want to stay up late and swing until my legs fall off i want to wear tank tops and i want to drive everywhere with my best friend i want to dance and i want to climb trees and read good books and colour. and my heart is looking forward to a number of things that can't be wrote down i want to hangout with my parents &amp;amp; their best friends i want to go to the zoo i want to do so many other things. my mind is coming up short for the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6259372235923312370?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6259372235923312370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/01/oh-my-oh-my-oh-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6259372235923312370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6259372235923312370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2010/01/oh-my-oh-my-oh-my-heart.html' title='oh my oh my oh my heart.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/S0-3S3-QMKI/AAAAAAAAAII/TnWPWch32J4/s72-c/z181867214.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2241943821050539111</id><published>2009-12-29T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T22:10:40.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'>cut the skin to the bone.</title><content type='html'>i'm scared. of what you'd ask? i'm scared of losing you.&lt;br /&gt;i think my problem is, i don't know how to deal with my sadness.&lt;br /&gt;and i don't know how to get mad. so what else am i suppose to do?&lt;br /&gt;i had to turn off my ipod today because i couldn't even deal with the&lt;br /&gt;feelings it gave me. then i realised how stupid that was and i turned it back on.&lt;br /&gt;do you ever think of me?&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure i know how to do this blog thing anymore, i will try again tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;or at another convenient time.&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2241943821050539111?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2241943821050539111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/cut-skin-to-bone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2241943821050539111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2241943821050539111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/cut-skin-to-bone.html' title='cut the skin to the bone.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7574033511140446940</id><published>2009-12-14T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T16:08:32.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>biggie biggie biggie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SybScoI6tEI/AAAAAAAAAIA/PiV5ycxjraQ/s1600-h/z190707878.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415246991212590146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SybScoI6tEI/AAAAAAAAAIA/PiV5ycxjraQ/s320/z190707878.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i rented and watched Notorious. i wish more people rented movies. and i wish movies were still on vhs. i also think the world would run alot smoother if people bought more cds and coke was in glass bottles. the other day i was taking the bro to work with my moma and the radio was on the old station and the windows were down a crack because my dad spilled vod in the backseat and i, it was good. i wish i was in bffoy's car right now, with the same cd and the same songs playing over and over and screaming hold on loosely at the top of our lungs. i don't know what to say, although i've found a new love for hip hop. Christmas is about to stress me out really bad. i've got alot of projects going on. and some i haven't even started on yet. the main thing is that i just finish the quilts, and get/make jd something. i hate being a girl once a month. mom, why couldn't i be a boy? "because God wanted to make my life hell. thats why he made you a girl." i don't think i'm going to make a very good parent, when i have a kid. okay, a zillion thoughts are running through my head. i want to go on a adventure, but only if i can hold your hand the whole way. can we sit and watch the lion king? its the only disney movie i managed to hold onto (unless i'm getting it mixed up with the little mermaid). four more days until break, maybe i'll last. i have a feeling something good is going to happen on break. no deep thoughts today, except i've found someone easy to talk too. its nice talking to them. sigh, lets go to sleep now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7574033511140446940?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7574033511140446940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/biggie-biggie-biggie.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7574033511140446940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7574033511140446940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/biggie-biggie-biggie.html' title='biggie biggie biggie'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SybScoI6tEI/AAAAAAAAAIA/PiV5ycxjraQ/s72-c/z190707878.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2583565337590509272</id><published>2009-12-07T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T15:54:55.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i want to be your crystal baller.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sx2VxBVcl0I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Oe-vOhqyTOs/s1600-h/13943_206454912368_811417368_3015220_2120010_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412646996573722434" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sx2VxBVcl0I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Oe-vOhqyTOs/s320/13943_206454912368_811417368_3015220_2120010_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sx2I_EKjZxI/AAAAAAAAAHo/ca80TXSwJvU/s1600-h/13943_206454912368_811417368_3015220_2120010_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i don't want to do this. i want to cuddle with you on the couch. i want to hangout at my best friend's house and piss off her parents. i want to play tony hawk on PlayStation. i want to climb a tree. i want to run wild. i want to jump on the trampoline we put up with our bare hands. i want to have a taco eating contest. i want to feel infinite. i want to go barefoot. i want to wake up at three in the p.m. i want to go get a sonic burger. i want to stay with Madi for weeks. i want to eat cookie dough until i feel like i'm going to puke. i want to play Mario Kart Double Dash on the game cube and scream at the top of my lungs. i want to hangout, the four of us. i want to go swing for hours on end. i want to go to go California. i want to listen to Cher and stay home alone and dance around in my underwear. i want to walk to the park. i was on the road to discovering myself, but i think i've taken a detour. i've made a pit stop. and i am okay with that. i'm at the beach, there is sand between my toes, my drink has a umbrella in it, i can see the sun through my eyelids. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2583565337590509272?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2583565337590509272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-want-to-be-your-crystal-baller.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2583565337590509272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2583565337590509272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-want-to-be-your-crystal-baller.html' title='i want to be your crystal baller.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sx2VxBVcl0I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Oe-vOhqyTOs/s72-c/13943_206454912368_811417368_3015220_2120010_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6818188127983248651</id><published>2009-11-30T15:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T17:10:43.295-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i talk big.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SxRlL95DweI/AAAAAAAAAHg/BomRjZ5pZLk/s1600/group180.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410060308645659106" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SxRlL95DweI/AAAAAAAAAHg/BomRjZ5pZLk/s320/group180.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; so, my grandma just made me eggs. for once i don't know what to say. i like rastafarian hats. i think the colours red, green, and yellow go beautifully together. i love emotions (i'm still working on that theory). i hope that everyone had a gooooood Thanksgiving. i ate so much it should be a sin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You know how you have those friendships, that just can't really be explained by words? like does that even make sense? Well i'm discovering one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;all i've wanted to do since last wednesday is just lay around, not wear the proper clothing, and listen to Blink 182. i've been thinking lately. i am going to make a great artist. can't you just come back into my life already. fourteen days until Christmas break! i honestly don't think i can last that long. that is a long time, when time is stretched out ahead of you. you get me. as a person. as a whole. an individual. a lover. a friend. you read my mind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6818188127983248651?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6818188127983248651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-talk-big.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6818188127983248651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6818188127983248651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-talk-big.html' title='i talk big.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SxRlL95DweI/AAAAAAAAAHg/BomRjZ5pZLk/s72-c/group180.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7320262883071759093</id><published>2009-11-23T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T15:45:46.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>z boys.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;today was hard for me. and like, i don't even know what it was about today that i just got put into a disgusting mood. i have a foul mouth when &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwsVVyGoWdI/AAAAAAAAAHY/sER-MniRqaQ/s1600/z204815051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 228px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407439241559431634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwsVVyGoWdI/AAAAAAAAAHY/sER-MniRqaQ/s320/z204815051.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i'm not happy. then i'm shocked i've said such things on God's green earth. music is about the only way to get me to open my mouth anymore. well, without pain anyway. my lips are cracked beyond repair, i would completely understand if noone wanted to look at me ever again. i can't get thoughts straight. youre messing with my fucking head. i am struggling to keep myself in line. when i feel myself start doubting. i just remind myself. of you. of things you say. of things in the past. i win. love wins. you worry me. and i pray for you every night. turns out. big surprise, i don't want to open up to anyone. i'm very much glad that tomorrow is the last day of school before the break. i'll have the house to myself on wednes. i'm not sure what will come out of being left alone. i would very much like to get out of my own head. mystery solved, everything, it all points to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;i'm crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7320262883071759093?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7320262883071759093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/z-boys.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7320262883071759093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7320262883071759093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/z-boys.html' title='z boys.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwsVVyGoWdI/AAAAAAAAAHY/sER-MniRqaQ/s72-c/z204815051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-3565568523591918872</id><published>2009-11-19T14:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T15:42:42.884-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"you mean our child"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwXFp-tGU9I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vVDpCEqgBOw/s1600/z192101676.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405944252725613522" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwXFp-tGU9I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vVDpCEqgBOw/s320/z192101676.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i always loose my train of thought. but i can tell you that i've fallen in love with beauty, and hope, and happiness, and other things all over again. i am not sure what brought it on, but its here. and its refreshing. only, i can't help but feel a little bit, teensy bit, out of my element. i like to pretend. today, its all i did. i saw a zombie in one of my classes. i'm not joking. i think i've started up writing again. i'm not sure yet, but i have been thinking like i used too. i'm proving myself, i can be happy without you. so far, i've only come up with like two days. i am getting wierder. the weather is getting wierder. my attitude is wierder. i am finding it difficult to speak out loud again. i don't know why, just got no desire to do it. i think the reason i've cheered up (if you want to call it that), is because i told myself i was to quit doubting.  so far, i'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to that (believe it or not). oh oh oh, i know what i want to make everyone for christmas! homemade, thats my theme this year. i hope i can stick to this. because personally i think it would rock. is it sad i'm already thinking about christmas, and it hasn't even been thanksgiving? the answer: yes. i really don't mean for this to be so ridiculously long, but its been a while. keep your head up, you will pull through this. i promise, i know you will. i know you can do it. i love when music gives me chills. i said this to someone recently, they laughed. i think tattoos are beautiful. and art is beautiful. and people are beautiful. and again, i'm in love with love and with the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-3565568523591918872?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/3565568523591918872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-mean-our-child.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3565568523591918872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/3565568523591918872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-mean-our-child.html' title='&quot;you mean our child&quot;'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SwXFp-tGU9I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vVDpCEqgBOw/s72-c/z192101676.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4217533293744850970</id><published>2009-11-14T17:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T18:58:01.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>old man, i'm alot like you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sv9eaXgEN5I/AAAAAAAAAHI/mSy3bIqjVdA/s1600-h/b204507335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404141884946003858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sv9eaXgEN5I/AAAAAAAAAHI/mSy3bIqjVdA/s320/b204507335.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kelsey, my dear, your life is terribly average.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;i have received Kiss tickets. the satanic music is going to steal my soul. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;i scrabbled frantically to finish this post, i did not succeed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4217533293744850970?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4217533293744850970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/old-man-im-alot-like-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4217533293744850970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4217533293744850970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/old-man-im-alot-like-you.html' title='old man, i&apos;m alot like you.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sv9eaXgEN5I/AAAAAAAAAHI/mSy3bIqjVdA/s72-c/b204507335.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-1514889499574843900</id><published>2009-11-12T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T14:44:31.635-08:00</updated><title type='text'>semi-charmed life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvyAaCYRF_I/AAAAAAAAAHA/ubNGzLlVIsQ/s1600-h/color12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 230px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403334837741361138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvyAaCYRF_I/AAAAAAAAAHA/ubNGzLlVIsQ/s320/color12.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i lead a very boring life, i mean, is it sad that i get excited over 'galaxy glue'? yes, it is Elmer's, it was see-through red glue with sparkles in it. and my whole math class made fun of me. but i'm okay with that. so, i've recovered my shoes that i lost three days ago at school. when i woke up today, i didn't feel anything. i was numb. but i was okay with that, it wasn't a bad feeling. i just, didn't feel anything at all. i can't figure out why, but all of a sudden i feel as though i've got all the time in the world. back. that feeling had left me for some time. i can't hold my attention long enough to do something for more than five minutes. i was talking to someone the other night, "tell me something.", i told them. they replied "like what?". why can't i find anyone that knows me like you do. NTS: youre terribly cliche, tone! it down. tomorrow is my date of birth and i couldn't be more excited. i shall try and give a detailed recount sometime soon. i am in such a mellow mood its scaring me. well i think i'm going to go make some pizza rolls. (she listens to twisted sister!?) we're going to have pizza rolls in our fridge, always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cryptic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-1514889499574843900?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/1514889499574843900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/semi-charmed-life.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1514889499574843900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/1514889499574843900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/semi-charmed-life.html' title='semi-charmed life.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvyAaCYRF_I/AAAAAAAAAHA/ubNGzLlVIsQ/s72-c/color12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-4268748831492398486</id><published>2009-11-09T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T14:33:48.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SviN1Zt4QEI/AAAAAAAAAG4/NzYdMIvVhqE/s1600-h/cf2c505709189e4866976e32af1e7f12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402223701606809666" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SviN1Zt4QEI/AAAAAAAAAG4/NzYdMIvVhqE/s320/cf2c505709189e4866976e32af1e7f12.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; everyday i have to wake up and not speak and shuffle through halls with people i don't like, everyday i die a little. which is such a horrid thing to say, but a true thing to say. in the sense of giving up, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; on great terms with it. i can actually feel myself letting go. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; not trying harder, in fact &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; not trying at all. its &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; less tiresome to simply, not try. the rope is slipping out of my hand. i can't figure out what my problem is. and as &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; sitting here thinking about up and just quitting, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; looking through &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;postsecret&lt;/span&gt;, and so &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; sitting here moping and i see a postcard that says "don't give up.". sign!? definitely. that has to be a sign. that was my sign. and now i feel obligated to be the strong one, and i have to know everything will work itself out. because hardly anything anyone says is getting me by anymore. yesterday i was thinking, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; honestly jealous of how some people's lives just seem to work out of them, how some people seem to get everything. you wouldn't last one day as me, you wouldn't last two seconds as me. try my shoes on. you won't fill them as good as i do. and here i go back into the depths of this letting go nonsense. boy, we're quite the package deal. much much too hot too handle. damn paper &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;shredders&lt;/span&gt;! causing a ruckus&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-4268748831492398486?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/4268748831492398486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/why.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4268748831492398486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/4268748831492398486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/why.html' title='why?'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SviN1Zt4QEI/AAAAAAAAAG4/NzYdMIvVhqE/s72-c/cf2c505709189e4866976e32af1e7f12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-148998805919929635</id><published>2009-11-04T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T15:34:30.621-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm no good, i'm not myself.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvH2pWqSW0I/AAAAAAAAAGw/TJTuA39L8lk/s1600-h/m205272926.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400368618511948610" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvH2pWqSW0I/AAAAAAAAAGw/TJTuA39L8lk/s320/m205272926.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i can feel the winter. its already here, in my thoughts and in my eyes. i'm getting closer and closer to falling apart. and without you, its not making it any easier. i don't know if its just the fact that i can't go a day without talking to you. -yes i am referring to yr phone. ten things happen all at once, things that i would only tell you because youre the only person that would pay the slightest bit of interest in them. like how a temps song came on in first hour. or how i won two games in a row in spanish. or that i've actually had money to but pizza like, twice this week. but i've come up with a resolution for this, i can't wait to tell you about it. so much is being put on me right now. i can hardly listen to my ipod without crying. because i'm always reminded of something. one thing or another. i wonder if people think i'm too young. young to say the things i do, too young to feel the things i feel. i hope no one thinks that, because its certainly not the case. not at all. i'm real. i feel. i miss you. i miss you alot. i should stop. but i can't think of anything else. i can't even hide it anymore. i need to stop. i'm cracking and cracking and i'm about to shatter. and i can't do that. not right now. because i honestly have nobody to put me back together. at least not right now. i can't wait till i can have you back. its so nice outside, i want to go swing! i love third eye blind. i love love. i love grass. raise hell don't stop till the cops come. i love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its annoying how everytime i need someone to talk too, everyone fucking bails out on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-148998805919929635?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/148998805919929635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-no-good-im-not-myself.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/148998805919929635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/148998805919929635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-no-good-im-not-myself.html' title='i&apos;m no good, i&apos;m not myself.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SvH2pWqSW0I/AAAAAAAAAGw/TJTuA39L8lk/s72-c/m205272926.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2141558558675416055</id><published>2009-10-31T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T14:58:29.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>if i don't go crazy tonight.</title><content type='html'>i'm too lazy to just make a new post. (11/2).&lt;br /&gt;my birthday is in twelve days. i can only tell you two things i even want to ask for. they wouldn't even be great things to anyone else. but they are great to me. the weather is far, far too nice for me to be sitting here wasting away on the computer. but all i can think about is how those tater tots made my stomach hurt. my heart hurts. maybe because you decided to take a stab at it last night, jerk. don't you dare fucking tell me that you know my heart, and its intentions. or that there is very little chance of it staying where it is for very long. you don't know shit about my heart. i don't care if you tried to make up for it by telling me youre happy that its somewhere, at least. thats a lie. "there is a small chance". i don't care if i am your mirror or not. youre going to have to look away sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love the park. i love you. i love grass. i love benches. i love you. i love swinging. i love your skin. i love how you feel. i love how you make me feel. i love your lips. i love your voice. i love your touch. i love your hair. i love you. you make me happy. fresh air makes me happy. trees make me happy. laying on you makes me happy. so does kissing you. you have my ipod, and don't you dare take in back with you. bring it home. why can't you stay here with me? we've already discussed this. i'll have you for the next fifty years. muwahahah. youre right you know, you bring out the best in me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2141558558675416055?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2141558558675416055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-i-dont-go-crazy-tonight.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2141558558675416055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2141558558675416055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-i-dont-go-crazy-tonight.html' title='if i don&apos;t go crazy tonight.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-9034625300009536938</id><published>2009-10-28T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T15:05:13.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>big, heart shaped glasses.</title><content type='html'>please don't go, the love you save may be your own. this week has been running smoothly, for the most part. i'd say. my definition of smooth may be quite a bit rougher than some. its official that i seriously can not find my thumb ring anywhere. soccer ruins everything for me. i'll be seeing you bright and early my dear. i've been thinking alot lately. i've got a good outfit planned out, thank you to jay's skinny jeans. woot! i'm &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sui6tWfRNUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/bT5b-zsipf8/s1600-h/z193045242.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397769441697150274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sui6tWfRNUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/bT5b-zsipf8/s320/z193045242.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;very excited about eli coming home this weekend, i've found myself smiling very hugely when thinking about it. a recent conversation made me think. how can i be the 'right person' for someone? this probably won't even make any sense, but just. bare with me. you know what. why should i worry. okay kelsey shut up. i was going somewhere with this but the five year old part of my mind got the better of me. i don't see how i could fit in a puzzle with anyone, except one person. my imagination is running wild. i haven't got butterflys in a long time. i like monsters, love them acutally. i've read every goosebumb book there is. i want to be a princess. its almost my birthday, i want you for my birthday. i like sharks and bats. i like people who try to act like something they are not. i like holding your hand. this post has gotten way out of control. just know, i'm happy and carefree for the time being. i've got it all figured out just like every other teenage cliche out there. right now, i'm on top of the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-9034625300009536938?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/9034625300009536938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-heart-shaped-glasses.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/9034625300009536938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/9034625300009536938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-heart-shaped-glasses.html' title='big, heart shaped glasses.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sui6tWfRNUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/bT5b-zsipf8/s72-c/z193045242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6704847714947795912</id><published>2009-10-22T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T14:53:56.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>are cannibals real?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SuDJgAvY9eI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/soieqBgjLVg/s1600-h/20081012111047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395533905381619170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SuDJgAvY9eI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/soieqBgjLVg/s320/20081012111047.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i can't answer this.&lt;br /&gt;i wrote a letter today. one of several i've been needing to write. it has the answers to last nights math homework on it also. i'm losing my creativity. U2 was EPIC! i can't even explain. amazing, amazing, amazing. fastforward button. i'd love to have one of those in real life. this is getting hard, i'm closing down. the weather is getting to me. the cycle has already started, and i can tell its going to be brutal. i'm so thankful youre here though, i'd be worse if i couldn't talk to you i think. i hate the monster this season makes me. i'll pull through, in the end. i always do. i always win. we're drifting, you say. driftwood. no we're not. i'm not going anywhere. nothing is never nothing. always definitely something. i miss you. the trees are dying, someone told me. i saw a couple arguing about which way their hands go. i'm trying to fix myself. i can do this. start with the little things. the medicine, yes, thats a good start. lets keep it small. thats good. a new bed, thats even better. keep going. don't give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SuDIo8cISRI/AAAAAAAAAGI/VPO3iw4hoDc/s1600-h/20081012111047.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6704847714947795912?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6704847714947795912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/are-cannibals-real.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6704847714947795912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6704847714947795912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/are-cannibals-real.html' title='are cannibals real?'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SuDJgAvY9eI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/soieqBgjLVg/s72-c/20081012111047.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7428797539860024657</id><published>2009-10-15T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:02:37.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no, no, no.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StfAufvP4BI/AAAAAAAAAGA/gYrc2RWjPic/s1600-h/22ddc2b0074b89eda7328fc797c5dccad68e54b7_m.png"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 211px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 227px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392990983825645586" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StfAufvP4BI/AAAAAAAAAGA/gYrc2RWjPic/s320/22ddc2b0074b89eda7328fc797c5dccad68e54b7_m.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;you all have got me all wrong. all of you. seriously. all. wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just now, today, this day, realized how wierd i am. please forgive me for that. it really isn't something that can be easily controled.&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm scared of being happy without you. forgive me again, for overanalyzing things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7428797539860024657?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7428797539860024657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-no-no.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7428797539860024657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7428797539860024657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-no-no.html' title='no, no, no.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StfAufvP4BI/AAAAAAAAAGA/gYrc2RWjPic/s72-c/22ddc2b0074b89eda7328fc797c5dccad68e54b7_m.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7372466629994086657</id><published>2009-10-13T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T16:51:15.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>slow: zombies at play.</title><content type='html'>my lack of sleep is getting to me. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StUB6cMot-I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Fs5oYC83_sI/s1600-h/owl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392218232359270370" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StUB6cMot-I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Fs5oYC83_sI/s320/owl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; its impossible for me to have a meaningful discussion. i am easily distracted. by thoughts, by beats and rhythms, by faces. by thoughts, by worries. here i go, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; on repeat. my heart just really hasn't been put into anything lately. its gloomy. the winter always does this to me. when i scratch my legs i can feel my fingernails. i don't think you fully understand the concept of 'this'. oh and could you please slip me some of those lovely pills you have there? i think not, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;youre&lt;/span&gt; the best medication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; a tree. my emotions run as deep as roots. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; so full of life, so full of color, so ready for the emptiness that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; sure is to come. my cheeks flush, i let out a deep breath. i sway in the wind. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;vulnerable&lt;/span&gt;, but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; stable. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; pieced together, undergo change with the weather. right before your eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7372466629994086657?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7372466629994086657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/slow-zombies-at-play.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7372466629994086657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7372466629994086657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/slow-zombies-at-play.html' title='slow: zombies at play.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StUB6cMot-I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Fs5oYC83_sI/s72-c/owl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2453123041075646249</id><published>2009-10-10T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T15:22:23.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the silence isn't so bad.</title><content type='html'>i have a thousand things running through my brain. maybe i can pretend that everything is alright? that might work.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StD7uI63dyI/AAAAAAAAAFI/gImZ7oXrA5Y/s1600-h/8888.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391085524049426210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StD7uI63dyI/AAAAAAAAAFI/gImZ7oXrA5Y/s320/8888.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i wish i could just flip my head inside out to let everyone see what is in there. that would be so much easier than trying to explain myself. i'm here for you. i'm strong for you. i'm fighting for you. i'm pulling for you. i'm praying for you. i've seem to of lost my train of thought. there is a ocean inside me, about two months worth of ocean. i don't know how much longer i can last. welcome back, i think i'll let you in again. i love you. its getting colder out, and the air is breathing easier. take a deep breath. don't lose your faith. everything will turn out how its suppose to be. i think i need a hand to hold. just a few days ago i was all ready and set to unleash my wrath upon this internet page. but now that i'm here, i don't know what or how too. i need to go swing, its easy, simple therapy. i must mention things are tumbling down. i need my sleeping bag and my best friend's floor, some cookie dough and a sad movie, my ipod and mario kart double dash, a trip to the garage and a stomach ache from laughing. thanks for everything. i can't tell which one of us needs the other more. you or me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; i got new curtain fabric for my room. it was meant for the windows but instead, it was destined to go on the closet. i'm so excited. i can't wait till i get this room finished!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2453123041075646249?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2453123041075646249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/silence-isnt-so-bad.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2453123041075646249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2453123041075646249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/silence-isnt-so-bad.html' title='the silence isn&apos;t so bad.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/StD7uI63dyI/AAAAAAAAAFI/gImZ7oXrA5Y/s72-c/8888.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7906799786453065647</id><published>2009-10-04T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T14:43:45.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a thousandtimes more than a thousandwords</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388862364790803954" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SskVxPTTzfI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TOy8G0nYFRI/s320/8519_176681619391_519589391_3812534_7382303_n.jpg" /&gt;how do you like fried everything? walking around, laughing at the wierdest things, and making fun. i hate when you force me into doing things i don't want to do. i always end up liking them anyway. *cough* skyscraper. you know me too well. way, way, way to well. get me out of this cavern or i'll cave in. i thoroughly enjoy the fair. i left the house with forty five dollars, and came back with one. i'm ashamed to say. but i totally got my moneys worth out of everything! spiral spud, a huge coke. and i bought a new bag for 25$, that i think kelsey cooper would really enjoy, and maybe even be proud of me for getting. i am happy for that best friend day, i really needed it. thanks for sitting through everclear with me. i feel good cause its saturday and i just fell in love. i can't even explain myself, the feelings i've got. how deep they really run. i'm just a micro-organism. i can't tell you how many times i've fallen short in just the past week. everything i say cancels out something else ive said. i've heard the word 'hippie' t&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SskWaJyaLyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/gNIj6cClkPI/s1600-h/Picture+015+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;o many times to count on twenty different hands. i'm tired of the aching in my stomach, however i'm still to stubborn to take any medicine. i don't know what my problem is. no, i know exactly what my problem is. no. no i don't. i can't tell you how much i miss the way us four used to be. we. were. perfect. and now, look at us. it hurts to look. i don't mean to be cliche. its a stupid problem that i have. everything i think or say. i backtrack, i erase, i bite my tongue. i hope noone notices. i'm falling apart and i need someone to glue me back together. i'm being way to melodramatic. no, i won't settle. i'm going to get what i want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7906799786453065647?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7906799786453065647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/thousandtimes-more-than-thousandwords.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7906799786453065647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7906799786453065647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/10/thousandtimes-more-than-thousandwords.html' title='a thousandtimes more than a thousandwords'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SskVxPTTzfI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TOy8G0nYFRI/s72-c/8519_176681619391_519589391_3812534_7382303_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8674697481189908169</id><published>2009-09-29T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T17:13:33.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it doesn't matter what yu do, i win.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387037309983454242" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SsKZ5EVW9CI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2yfWQvd6Tgo/s320/z197885067.bmp" /&gt;i can't wait for this month to be over. people have got alot of nerve these days and my respect for them as gone way down. i bring home so much work to do and i can't find it in me to do it any better than half-ass. however recently i have gone back to thinking critically in the ways of a writer (one that needs mental help). one much like edgar allan poe, except not so dark and tormented. well, maybe. whatever. i'm tired of having to reasure myself. and i'm tired of bothering other people with that. this inconsistancy is bothering me. why are you always my main focus? i can't help but wonder. i'm sure that i am not yours, correct me if i'm wrong. so i re-read Twilight, i forgot how good those books were. i like getting lost in something that isn't reality, or the woods. the more i observe, the more i take heed too. or maybe i don't pick up on anything at all, who knows. i have a million things to say but i can't find my annoying words. my heart has been fluttering on and off. i know i should start following it more. i know that its in the right spot. don't worry, i'm just a stupid young girl that believes in love. but boy, do i believe. well at least we made it this far. but we've got a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need a new journal (i shutter to think of what some people would think of this):&lt;br /&gt;i'm drowning. its not the rain this time. i can't breathe. don't leave me, i'm not here to stay. dont forget, i'm here waiting. you wouldn't dare. haunt my dreams. taunt me with your charm. remind me again, youre the one worth waiting for.&lt;br /&gt;more for the journal:&lt;br /&gt;a new season, new monster. theyre all drones. tempting and disillusion. group therapy. i think i like this. open your eyes, shut your mouth. get back here. oh, i need you now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SsKV2dQyFTI/AAAAAAAAAEA/lUJsS2Ifke8/s1600-h/z94214209.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8674697481189908169?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8674697481189908169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-doesnt-matter-what-yu-do-i-win.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8674697481189908169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8674697481189908169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-doesnt-matter-what-yu-do-i-win.html' title='it doesn&apos;t matter what yu do, i win.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SsKZ5EVW9CI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2yfWQvd6Tgo/s72-c/z197885067.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8913917998014348768</id><published>2009-09-26T10:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T16:02:55.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be careful what you ask for.</title><content type='html'>i treat you like king of the world. i do everything and anything for you, or that would help YOU to feel better. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sr5QN41wkdI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Go7m6Q4CGlw/s1600-h/z154237479.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385830403908080082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sr5QN41wkdI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Go7m6Q4CGlw/s320/z154237479.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i do it all out of the pure kindness of my heart (and yes even with a bad attitude it still counts as kindness). because i can not stand to see you looking so sad or so pathetic. i try to refrain from telling you things that you don't want to hear. or from giving you a serious piece of my mind. for your benifit. and i get nothing back. remind me why i do this again? and you, i wonder if youre reading this right now. you probablly aren't. or you might be, i never know with you. i find you so awfully wonderful, not to mention complicated, stubborn, and a ass at times. but i am in love with you. and your charm. the effect you have on people. people. i could say so much on that subject. however; the backspace key is screaming my name. so i better keep this going. i finally tried to watch Coraline today, i stopped it about a fourth of the way through. i just don't know what it is with that movie. minutes seem like hours with you, and hours are merely minutes. i don't know what it is. what anything is anymore. i need a big porch, with rocking chairs, and some sweet tea. have i mentioned the things you do to me, love?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8913917998014348768?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8913917998014348768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/be-careful-what-you-ask-for.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8913917998014348768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8913917998014348768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/be-careful-what-you-ask-for.html' title='be careful what you ask for.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sr5QN41wkdI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Go7m6Q4CGlw/s72-c/z154237479.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7190201208234937574</id><published>2009-09-24T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T14:08:01.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yes mom, i really knew to call.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 230px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385135146955462338" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrvX4m3AVsI/AAAAAAAAADw/B1ablyl8IUY/s320/z158178317.jpg" /&gt;isn't it funny how people put such trust into words? i find it quite comical. comical. i should know the spanish word for that however; i'm everything short of paying attention in that class. words. words can be so beautiful, or so darn ugly. so full of meaning, or empty empty empty. the empty words are the ones that i feel for. making false promises and judgments and all. is any of this making sense? i miss picking the locus shells off of trees. i've come up with another thing to add to my birthday list. eachday opens up an old cut. another question. another reason. a really miss writing poetry, i was thinking about it last night and it just all of a sudden hit me. i really need to look into burning my old journals. i don't want to do it alone. but i can't think of anyone to do it with. i can only hope that i  am opening up someone's eyes. isn't it strange to think about the way some of us work? i know that if anyone was to look into my skull, they would run away screaming. i really should consider cleaning it up upthere. short but sweet, slow and steady we finish the race. i really wish my 'friends' would stay out of my buisness. i'll tell you what you need to know. have a lovely day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7190201208234937574?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7190201208234937574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/yes-mom-i-really-knew-to-call.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7190201208234937574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7190201208234937574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/yes-mom-i-really-knew-to-call.html' title='yes mom, i really knew to call.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrvX4m3AVsI/AAAAAAAAADw/B1ablyl8IUY/s72-c/z158178317.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7568681908616904821</id><published>2009-09-22T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T14:03:07.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we don't need to whisper.</title><content type='html'>i'm sorry, really i am. i don't mean to bring you down as you read this but, its a last resort and again, i apologise.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrkvPK1TiQI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ju3ovF9wXwE/s1600-h/acabd6a36e0b17fa3ab4e708b66498fdf06deac2_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384386767150614786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrkvPK1TiQI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ju3ovF9wXwE/s320/acabd6a36e0b17fa3ab4e708b66498fdf06deac2_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i haven't slept well since thursday, i haven't eaten either.  i'm so sick of&lt;br /&gt;everything. first off, don't sit there and do crappy things to me and talk crappy about me and then turn around and try and be my friend. because you will get way worse than you give, i promise you. i don't remember the last time i talked to someone at school. Emily, is the only person, i'm starting to realise that i can even help me deal with this. you are so unfair, and i'm really starting to think you don't even mean the things you say. which, really just pisses me off. but if i know you at all, i know i'm wrong. i need to stop this, its all very unhealthy. i need a book to get lost in, or a dream. meanwhile, i'm thinking of starting a list of the things i would like for my birthday. so far i've only gotten one thing. the new postsecret book. if i just got that, i'd be happy. school is really starting to set me in a trance. i'm already to careless about it, i never do my homework. its to early in the year for this. however! it is the first day of fall, and i'm so excited. because after fall its winter and winter means the year is half over and that means only one half left to go. till everything is what i've hoped for. things are looking up. here you go again, trying to be my friend. its sad. youre sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* i'd just like to note that the cross walk lady that stands on the conner @ the mid-high is a bih.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7568681908616904821?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7568681908616904821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/we-dont-need-to-whisper.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7568681908616904821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7568681908616904821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/we-dont-need-to-whisper.html' title='we don&apos;t need to whisper.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrkvPK1TiQI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ju3ovF9wXwE/s72-c/acabd6a36e0b17fa3ab4e708b66498fdf06deac2_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-2844296751384509007</id><published>2009-09-17T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T15:23:30.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>selfish, shellfish. (excuse the language).</title><content type='html'>does anyone really know where they are 'going'?&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrKdAXoFQ9I/AAAAAAAAADI/LfOIbUZzbnU/s1600-h/untit3az0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382537134328857554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrKdAXoFQ9I/AAAAAAAAADI/LfOIbUZzbnU/s320/untit3az0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; because i can't say that i do. i don't want what i've got and i need what i don't have. i need my best friend back. although i am happy for her, i just need her, more than she realises i think. peanut butter and jelly, we were. you said so yourself. but i guess now that we're growing up and all things are changing and i think i can respect that now. i need kelsquared, its just not the same without seeing that girl everyday. no more wierd kids, and making signs, and making fun of my art work. we had the most interesting conversations. and i know we weren't like 'omg, tell eachother everything' --but i mean, we were still good friends. i need no homo. i need 'i want to give you the world', you say. you tell me the most amazing things. things that i don't even know what to say back to. i need next year, i absolutely need it to get here as fast as it possibly can; there are things i need to happen, things i need to see, things i need to laugh at, laugh with, and things i need to check up on. because as of right now, i've just set my own fucking death trap. my attitude has just gotten worse, and worse towards eveything. i'm lying to everyone. mainly myself. i don't know how long i can keep doing this. i hate opening up to people. like, don't grill me about myself and my life. i'll tell you what i want you to know. don't question the things i do or the answers i give. or i'll push you so far away. i don't mean to, thats just how i am. i've done it once, and it took alot of effort on my part and understanding on theirs. alright, i've come a long fucking way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-2844296751384509007?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/2844296751384509007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/selfish-shellfish-excuse-language.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2844296751384509007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/2844296751384509007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/selfish-shellfish-excuse-language.html' title='selfish, shellfish. (excuse the language).'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SrKdAXoFQ9I/AAAAAAAAADI/LfOIbUZzbnU/s72-c/untit3az0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-5119136134147469158</id><published>2009-09-12T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T22:27:26.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>live and learn, weeeee hate youuuu.</title><content type='html'>wowwww, its been awhile;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alot of things different, so many feelings are getting deeper, so many friendships going in&lt;br /&gt;different ways. this little town is going to corrupt us all, i'll say. i am hearing tons of empy words. i mean what i say, and i say what i mean. september is basically, half way over. i keep finding my heart to be beating insanely fast. its still yours. i'm starting to realise i'm alot stronger than i thought i was. i just about got this down pat. heres how it goes: i wake up to a text, always something classy. i get up, i literally roll out of bed and go to school. where, i tend to sort of sheepishly tred through the halls, i've got no desire to be there, it isn't my place. by now my brain is completly dead, where i suffer through spanish, geometry, and biology. mind you i'm texting all through the day. then i go to lunch where i get to be 'one of the guys' -lucky me. i miss my friends. i can't wait until next year. i really can't. then i come to soccer. story of my life. and by the end of the day, you're still all i can think about. i don't know, you make me weak at the knees, and don't think i don't know that if i told you that you'd say some perverted joke about me and your junk. because i know, i know you. and even though we're miles apart, distance within this distance, i'm yours and youre mine. i've decided. youre it ;if you know what i mean. as far as love goes, we're all falling quite hard. 'noone can be in love at sixteen' excuse me but i beg to differ. this is getting out of hand. i don't even know where to begin, or end. i have no freetime. i have no say. i have no control. i'm losing myself, and i hate to love it and i love to hate it. i can't help but think 'is this it?' 'kelsey this is nothing, you've got so much more time' you tell me. people are pushing me. i'm getting options thrown at me. i don't like what i see. i want you. 'what does your heart tell you' i don't have my heart 'what does the abyss that was your heart say' the abyss just wants to hav fun. so i think i'm going to start doing things for myself. so this is it. this. is life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-5119136134147469158?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/5119136134147469158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/live-and-learn-weeeee-hate-youuuu.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5119136134147469158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/5119136134147469158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/09/live-and-learn-weeeee-hate-youuuu.html' title='live and learn, weeeee hate youuuu.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6253790113612341699</id><published>2009-08-27T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T17:30:20.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you can stand beside me when the world comes down.</title><content type='html'>this is so hard, and august is almost over. i keep getting sign after sign, and i know you have to be getting them too. i've got much to say and it is all well overdue. school is devistating, sucking the life right after me. i can never seem to wake up until it is time for me to go to bed. i have no desire to apply myself. i am so sick of this sick feeling in my stomach. i find you in everysong i hear, every sentence i mutter, every thought that runs by me. i need this to go by fast, while others need it to drag out as slow as possible. i need a deep breath, a breath of fresh air. can you please come hold my hand? i know this is going to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i have so much i need to say but i'm afraid i just can't right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6253790113612341699?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6253790113612341699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-can-stand-beside-me-when-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6253790113612341699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6253790113612341699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-can-stand-beside-me-when-world.html' title='you can stand beside me when the world comes down.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-9064001179607600925</id><published>2009-08-15T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T13:23:11.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my friends all asked just why you went away.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sob1MJ-xw1I/AAAAAAAAADA/1YxADCWObXY/s1600-h/No_One__s_Getting_Younger_by_jazzylemonade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370249194872357714" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sob1MJ-xw1I/AAAAAAAAADA/1YxADCWObXY/s320/No_One__s_Getting_Younger_by_jazzylemonade.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i'm a small town girl. i don't really know much about the world or how it works. i think i know, but i think i'm totally wrong. all i know is that i'm here, and i'll always be here. i haven't figured out how to give up yet. i've decided i need to mellow out and quit worrying so much. everything is going to work out how it is suppose to be. that's right, nothing is going to happen that isn't meant to be. meant to be, what does that even mean. i have to remind myself to breathe too often. i think instead of eating my feelings, i starve them to death. because i sure as hell don't talk about them. i've recently started to watch sappy movies about love. opposed to ones about zombies and people dying and stuff. i think its because i find some kind of hope, in a way, in those stupid love movies. i miss my best friend. i miss laughing, really real actual laughter. i miss making fun of everything. i miss listening to our ipods, and dancing around in the middle of your driveway. i miss swinging. i miss getting in fights with you. i miss talking about how different we are. i miss sleeping on your floor in my sleepingbag. i miss waking up and hearing you tell me how ugly i am. i miss eating bagle bites and fishsticks. i miss going out to the freezer even when we know there isn't anything to eat out there, there never is. i'm right here, i'm always here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-9064001179607600925?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/9064001179607600925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-friends-all-asked-just-why-you-went.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/9064001179607600925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/9064001179607600925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-friends-all-asked-just-why-you-went.html' title='my friends all asked just why you went away.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sob1MJ-xw1I/AAAAAAAAADA/1YxADCWObXY/s72-c/No_One__s_Getting_Younger_by_jazzylemonade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-994321703775848127</id><published>2009-08-12T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T21:14:02.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the road to self-discovery.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SoOMVaKox4I/AAAAAAAAACo/rwTjvnQL6iI/s1600-h/QPnqMHihxlba3iycH4LTQTKjo1_400.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369289480184842114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SoOMVaKox4I/AAAAAAAAACo/rwTjvnQL6iI/s320/QPnqMHihxlba3iycH4LTQTKjo1_400.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm learning about myself. i'm finding out who i can lean on and who won't catch me. i'm thinking and i'm feeling. i hope i can work on myself, perfect myself, dress myself, take care of myself, be myself, face myself, whatever. school is in a week and i am going to die. i'm already stressed and its about to get twenty times worse. lately i've found that i don't know what to say -thats odd for me. last thursday i came home to a Wonderful surprise. i walked in my room to find Eli sitting on my floor coloring. so then after a nice hug i took a shower. and we sat in the green chair and watched a movie. i never wanted to get up, ever again. then i went about my dang business to kansas city. i have tons i need to get off my chest. and i let a little out last night to a very unfortunate friend ;i hope he didn't mind. if i'm honest with myself, i feel the future. if i'm honest with myself, i know what i want and what i can get. so here it goes: i don't want to go to school. _but i know that not going is not an option. i don't want to play soccer anymore. _i'm not allowed to quit so i better freaking suck it up. i think i know who i want to spend the rest of everyday with. _they know who they are, and i think they feel the same. i need more passion. _self explanatory. and that is all i've got so far. recently i was told that "you don't want myself to be happy." and "you act like he is the only thing when you have her and everyone else in yr life" and "yr acting like it sucks when it doesn't". that completely set me off. i can't tell if i'm dying to live another day, or simply living to die.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-994321703775848127?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/994321703775848127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/road-to-self-discovery.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/994321703775848127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/994321703775848127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/road-to-self-discovery.html' title='the road to self-discovery.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SoOMVaKox4I/AAAAAAAAACo/rwTjvnQL6iI/s72-c/QPnqMHihxlba3iycH4LTQTKjo1_400.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7724730372422726467</id><published>2009-08-05T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T15:02:41.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i promise you this, a little's enough.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366591456378346130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Snn2fwQT2pI/AAAAAAAAABo/3aDqTlqb3WM/s320/587707739_1f5d2b1f93.jpg" /&gt;i can't help it but i just find Angels &amp;amp; Airwaves to be so inspiring. so far in my life i've found: about three people that can totally understand me. about seven people i relate too. one person that knows me better than i know myself. and two people that can make me laugh no matter what. i hate to say it but at times i have really, REALLY judging friends. and i just sit there and let it happen. because when i do speak up, everything all seems to fall back on me. i mean, i can handle it. it just annoys me. but we all have different eyes. speaking of eyes, i wish i could find someone that would catch my eye. it would probablly do me a little good. but i seem to only have eyes for one person. this fact doesn't bother me, however. this past week has been sucking the life right out of me. i can't ever get to sleep. thoughts of you fill my head. i try not to think. i lay in the dark hopelessly, with my ipod set quiet. i can't tell if my standards are too high or far too low.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7724730372422726467?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7724730372422726467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-promise-you-this-littles-enough.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7724730372422726467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7724730372422726467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-promise-you-this-littles-enough.html' title='i promise you this, a little&apos;s enough.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Snn2fwQT2pI/AAAAAAAAABo/3aDqTlqb3WM/s72-c/587707739_1f5d2b1f93.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-7098605694431711798</id><published>2009-08-04T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T12:15:05.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>like a bird in the sky, i'm so high.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SniDBFCBECI/AAAAAAAAABA/QABLxAW6MIQ/s1600-h/z180658348.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366183010565689378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SniDBFCBECI/AAAAAAAAABA/QABLxAW6MIQ/s320/z180658348.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i want to take life slow, one sip at a time. and yet i can't help but find myself thinking "i wish this would hurry up" and just be done with me. i mean, what's the point? you try and try the best you can and no matter what it just comes back around to bite you in the ass (excuse me). i haven't collected my thoughs, forgive me. i wish i could express how i am feeling. one minute i'm perfectly fine and content. and then two seconds after i feel like the most pathetic thing on earth. and then its like some depression monster has got a hold of me. i think its the people in this town, or lack there of. full of not-so-good people, some say. i think that my head may be full of salt water. i need Peter Pan's number so i can learn how to fly. life seems to be full of heartbreak and it is not holding anything back lately. growing up isn't so easy anymore. i have a great image in my head of what i want or maybe even need my life to look like. now all i have to do is just paint the picture with reality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-7098605694431711798?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/7098605694431711798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/like-bird-in-sky-im-so-high.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7098605694431711798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/7098605694431711798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/08/like-bird-in-sky-im-so-high.html' title='like a bird in the sky, i&apos;m so high.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/SniDBFCBECI/AAAAAAAAABA/QABLxAW6MIQ/s72-c/z180658348.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8120613336049769092</id><published>2009-07-26T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T20:08:28.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cry a river, drown the whole world</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sm0Zb-Mu4fI/AAAAAAAAAA4/iZXHlKuCnL4/s1600-h/aaaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362970699611693554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sm0Zb-Mu4fI/AAAAAAAAAA4/iZXHlKuCnL4/s320/aaaa.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i hate the feeling of doubt ; not knowing where your breath is taking you has a very freeing sense. much like how i feel when i don't wear a seatbelt in the car. i've seemed to of lost my freeness lately or misplaced it rather, what have you. and i would like it back as soon as possible. i'm tired. i'm tired of holding back my feelings and biting my tongue. and its not that i don't care what people are going to think once i've let all that go. i don't know what it is. i'm just petrified of letting people in, thats the only explination i can come up with. there are things i would rather not talk about is all. i'm sick too. i'm sick of second guessing. second guessing, myself, love, humanity, the grass, my feelings, his feelings. i know what i want, and i know what i need. i'm lost in life, and honestly i don't plan on looking for myself anytime soon. i find it much more adventurous to be lost in the woods than to be found and sitting at home on the couch. that was a crappy metaphor. i'm in love and it is a very nice feeling. i guess i've drug this out enough, i'm done for the time being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8120613336049769092?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8120613336049769092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/cry-river-drown-whole-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8120613336049769092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8120613336049769092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/cry-river-drown-whole-world.html' title='cry a river, drown the whole world'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/Sm0Zb-Mu4fI/AAAAAAAAAA4/iZXHlKuCnL4/s72-c/aaaa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-8348945006678097172</id><published>2009-07-23T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T22:34:36.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fox's not so deep thoughts</title><content type='html'>tonight: could last forever.&lt;br /&gt;it was the last night of vbs and i'm secretly kind of sad.&lt;br /&gt;i actually had alot of fun, and i got to hangout with Austin,&lt;br /&gt;i love him so much. he is just the best thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i was home alone all day, except for my visit to chickfila&lt;br /&gt;with Ashley. and i put in your cd and turned up my stereo&lt;br /&gt;and i danced. and danced. is this good for me? i only think&lt;br /&gt;about you pretty much everysecond of the day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;give me a tree so i can spill all my secrets.&lt;br /&gt;put me in a room with someone i don't like and lets see&lt;br /&gt;where we get.&lt;br /&gt;lessons in love, it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;i'm so very sorry my thoughts are everywhere today.&lt;br /&gt;make me a sandwich and i'll tell you where i come from.&lt;br /&gt;i want my lisa frank coloring book with a side of crayons.&lt;br /&gt;i  need you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;type, type, backspace, type, backspace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-8348945006678097172?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/8348945006678097172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/foxs-not-so-deep-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8348945006678097172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/8348945006678097172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/foxs-not-so-deep-thoughts.html' title='fox&apos;s not so deep thoughts'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266649506608271824.post-6226964095135719637</id><published>2009-07-20T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T14:29:12.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ain't to proud to beg.</title><content type='html'>today is pizza;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday, i got two whole meals down :).&lt;br /&gt;i'm so proud of myself. it rock'd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me and jess suck. we're out of control.&lt;br /&gt;i hate my pretty friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm trying to open my pessimistic eyes to oh the joys of&lt;br /&gt;optimism. but its just so hard, when i can't even give things&lt;br /&gt;a chance. music knowledge, or lack of. i'm trying to find&lt;br /&gt;perfection, again. its not working out rinnow, so i think i will&lt;br /&gt;just try and be content and quit looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm cuttin' it short today boyz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266649506608271824-6226964095135719637?l=breadwheat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/feeds/6226964095135719637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/aint-to-proud-to-beg.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6226964095135719637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266649506608271824/posts/default/6226964095135719637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breadwheat.blogspot.com/2009/07/aint-to-proud-to-beg.html' title='ain&apos;t to proud to beg.'/><author><name>Cher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789800420797579432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GWdvqZy_LX4/TFTCV8sl3UI/AAAAAAAAAJA/cfzVrIy0G5w/S220/apartment.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
